Chapter 15: Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes

My first GⅠ race. My first racing silks. The finest stage at the close of the year.

Just walking toward the starting gate makes something hot well up from deep inside my chest.

"Gate 1, Number 1: I’m Princeps — a graded-race-winning Uma Musume who took the Sapporo Junior Stakes. Her closing kick is terrifying."

"Gate 2, Number 2: Agnes Sekai — another graded-race-winning Uma Musume, victorious in the Hakodate Junior Stakes. She stays toward the front, then unleashes the fastest final dash; even in a sprint she won by nearly two lengths."

I recite the information on the opponents running today, just to calm myself down. By now, it’s already a habit.

"Gate 5, Number 9: Machikane Sorekara — third in the Ivy Stakes two races back, second in the Keisei Cup last race. The ability to chase right up behind me—never someone to underestimate."

But today, the opponent that truly matters is only one.

"Gate 7, Number 13: Witolum Pedes."

In her last race, she struggled to break through the pack, but once she did, that late burst she used to overtake King Halo was pure menace. And beyond that—if she runs her usual style and takes the lead freely, even my full-strength finishing kick won’t be enough.

So if I want to win, I absolutely cannot allow her to run away unchecked. My only chance lies in a head-to-head fight in Nakayama’s short final stretch. If I can stay right behind her until the straight… I might find an opening to strike.

The gates burst open with a sharp clack, and they all start at once—looks like no one was late out.

The Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes runs 1600 meters on the turf at Nakayama Racecourse. Unlike the 1800 meters of my debut, this course has a different shape; after the first straight, a long, gentle curve continues endlessly. That makes it hard to move up and mark someone from behind later on.

Which is why—right from the start…

A quick glance to my left shows her: that small figure accelerating lightly, fluidly, clearly gunning for the front. No doubt her strategy today is to take the lead.

If I can’t stick with her here, there’s no chance to win.

I shift gears, pushing forward along her path.

There isn’t the usual wall of rivals in my vision, but the hoofbeats behind tell me I’ve already put three lengths between us. The Uma Musume ahead is two lengths away—and she’s trying to stretch that gap even further. She really does intend to end this race with a runaway from the start.

This pace is… too much. But now that I’m wearing these colors, I can’t show something so disgraceful as giving up and accepting defeat.

I grit my teeth and close the distance again—one length. I can no longer tell how far back the others are.

We enter the second corner, and things finally stabilize.

That was my mistake.

She kicks up her pace yet another notch.

Before I know it, one length becomes two, then more—she’s pulling away. In a mile race, this isn’t just taking the lead anymore. It’s reckless.

I don’t understand. If she really had this much power, the correct place to use it would be the third corner. If she wanted to beat me for certain, she would choose a long spurt starting at the third-corner entry. If she did that, I’d have no counterplay.

Even in simulations with my trainer, that was the worst possible scenario for me. There’s no way she doesn’t know that.

Yet she widens the gap—four lengths, five lengths.

If her only goal were simply “to win,” she wouldn’t need to increase the pace here.

So why did she speed up?

No… that’s wrong.
Why didn’t I realize it sooner?

Her debut was the same. She put more than three seconds between herself and the field.

A race is meant to be won. Whether by a head or by a wide margin, a win is a win.

Then what is it she’s running for? What a foolish question.

I knew she didn’t even see me as an individual. But I didn’t know it was to this extent.

Pathetic.
Pathetic.

What was that “monster” reputation worth, then?

What monster am I, if I’m not even deemed worthy to compete against?
What Uma Musume warrior am I, if she doesn’t even consider me a rival?

I steel myself and hurl my legs forward. Ignoring the screams of pain pulsing up from them, I chase.

Maybe she senses that—because she raises her speed again.

The only thing holding me upright now is sheer stubbornness.

We thunder past the 800-meter mark, still at a murderous, blistering pace, barreling toward the third corner.

But no matter how much willpower I pour into my legs—
All I can manage is to cling on until the entrance of the fourth corner.

That’s as far as I can keep up.

Is that my limit?

My legs stop moving.
My arms can’t swing anymore.

At this distance, this shouldn’t be happening. Not normally.
It’s obvious—I’ve burned through all my stamina.

She shouldn’t be comfortable either, and yet her speed isn’t dropping at all.

By the time we face the straight, all I can do is watch as the gap stretches—seven lengths, then eight. Witolum Pedes pulls away, and I can do nothing but stare.

These past few weeks have been… honestly, pretty rough.

To start with, Suzuka-san, who was supposed to run in the Mile Championship, was pulled out at the last minute due to a sudden muscle pain. They decided she needed rest until the start of the new year, which also meant she couldn’t go to Hong Kong for the year-end race.

She’s allowed to move around as long as she doesn’t run, but Spe-chan worried so much that she started fussing over Suzuka-san nonstop. The side effect? Spe-chan apparently didn’t practice her Winning Live at all—which resulted in her debuting a glorious “blank stare at the sky” pose during her first live performance.

Then, after Spe-chan got scolded from above, her trainer put her through intensive practice. But now Suzuka-san couldn’t run, and with both her trainer and Spe-chan having less time for her, Suzuka-san ended up completely worn out.

And then, for some reason, that same Spe-chan—who did the blank-stare live because she fussed over Suzuka-san too much—ended up getting yelled at by Grass-chan. I have no idea how that chain of events even formed, but everything spiraled into a mess.

In the end, King-chan proposed that everyone practice the Winning Live together, and that finally calmed things down.

The plan was for Suzuka-san and her trainer to act as instructors, while Spe-chan, Grass-chan, King-chan, and a few others practiced. El Condor Pasa—El-chan—joined since she’s Grass-chan’s roommate. Somehow, for reasons unknown, I was put in the group as well.

One of the songs we practiced had some mysterious performance element involving a slide. Thinking back, the vibe didn’t feel like a Winning Live at all. I still have no idea which race that song was even meant for.

Living that exhausting daily life, before I knew it, my next race arrived.

A GⅠ—this very long-named race called the Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes.

But the course itself is nothing special: Nakayama’s 1600-meter track, one I’ve run before.

If anything is different, it’s that I’m wearing my racing silks today, and the spectators’ attention feels unusually high.

Speaking of spectators, recently there have been plushies made of me. On the way to the racecourse today, I saw quite a few people holding them.

The problem is… I can’t tell if they’re well-made or not, but the plushie’s eyes are way too lively. It’s a little creepy, so I have to say the accuracy is pretty low.

…Racing might actually be kind of fun.

In the last race, I felt like I had grasped something—some kind of spark.

Maybe today, on this stage, I can confirm what it was.

For three whole weeks, I let myself think something that naïve. What on earth made me believe that simply “running” could hold such meaning?

Right after the start, I burst forward so I wouldn’t get swallowed up like last time. No delay this time. The moment I felt safe, something surged up behind me.

I didn’t need to look back to know who it was. It was Grass-chan.

Usually, she runs from further behind, but now she was already close to the front. That alone was within Trainer-san’s expectations.

In that case, I was supposed to break away so she couldn’t follow—go for a full-on runaway, put about ten lengths between myself and the pack.

But Grass-chan kept coming.

Her presence pressed closer and closer, like she could take my head off at any moment. The moment I entered her range of attack, I felt like I wouldn’t make it out alive.

If there were a shadow nearby, a hole in the ground—anything—I would have dived in and hidden. I just wanted to get out of her line of sight.

I ran. Grass-chan chased.

Normally she’s so gentle, yet now she came at me with overwhelming intensity. It felt like something straight out of a horror game.

I had no idea what the pace was anymore. I didn’t know where the other Uma Musume even were.

It was literally just the two of us in a desperate game of tag.

When I finally crossed the finish line, sweat and cold sweat poured from every inch of my body—more than ever in my life.

Are races supposed to be this exhausting?

…Somehow, I think I’ve grown to dislike racing a little more than before.