Chapter 26: NHK Mile Cup

The NHK Mile Cup is held at Tokyo Racecourse. Since there’s no travel involved, I figured I’d get to sleep in for once—but that hope is shattered when an obnoxiously loud alarm clock goes off in a nearby room early in the morning. And not once—five times.

Honestly, I’d really like to relax at least on Sunday.

After changing into my racing outfit and finishing the paddock walk, I enter the gate with practiced ease. Sometimes I still see some Uma Musume reluctant to step in, but it looks like no one’s throwing a fit today.

At the signal, the gates burst open and we take off.

My hooves dig into the turf and I try to surge forward… but I can’t.

It feels like my legs are sinking into the grass—like the turf itself is grabbing at me, making it hard to run. Every time I push off, there’s this tiny dip, so I can’t advance the way I intend to.

On top of that, the turf is torn up with divots and gouges from the earlier races; patches of grass are missing entirely. It’s terrible footing.

Come to think of it, my trainer warned me about the turf before the race. Something about needing to move outside early or I’d have trouble running… was that it?

While I’m fumbling with my footing, the outer horses cut inward, leaving me no option but to stay on the deteriorated ground hugging the inner rail. It’s not that there aren’t any gaps, but barging into the pack from here looks nearly impossible.

And even if I want to drop back to escape, judging from the hoofbeats behind me, there are several runners to my right rear as well. I’d have to fall back a long way before I could angle outward—not realistic.

The race moves into the corner just like that. The group gradually shifts from a pack to something more like a line, but that only means the wall around me becomes longer. I’m short, so I can barely see anything around me anyway.

A wall of Uma Musume on my right, the inner rail on my left, and the only available lane is the churned-up, miserable path ahead.

My field of vision is narrow. The road is narrow.

And to be honest, my irritation is reaching its limit.

I never liked crowds to begin with. Running in one is even worse. The hoofbeats are loud, sometimes the girl next to me bumps my arm, clumps of turf get kicked into my face, and if things get bad, someone might even body-check me.

If I can’t get out from behind, then I have to break through from the front.

Maybe things will open up on the straight, but winning or losing aside, I refuse to keep running in this mess any longer.

I lean forward more than usual and slam my hooves into the ground with force.

Even if they sink into the turf, I twist and drive them deeper, pushing with my ankles and pressing the horseshoes down. My body moves like it remembers exactly how to run like this.

A sensation like my entire body bursting forward—and I accelerate in one go.

Each hoofbeat catches the turf, flinging it behind me as I slice the air with my chest.

With every step, I pull ahead of the girl beside me. A few more steps and the one next to me switches places entirely.

Around the midpoint of the fourth corner, the horse next to me disappears from view, and my sightline opens wide.

What fills my eyes is the grandstand packed with spectators—and El-chan, about six lengths ahead of me.

Without changing my stride, I shift slightly outward off the torn-up inside and enter the straight.

Ahead of me is El-chan, running like she’s having the time of her life.

All that’s left is to run straight through.

El Condor Pasa’s POV

Witolum Pedes.

Normally, she’s a friend with childlike looks and a slightly airheaded personality—someone you can’t help but fuss over. She zones out a lot and often naps on benches by the roadside.

She frequently gets King to help with homework, or ends up studying for pop quizzes with Spe-chan and Grass. Her academics… well, let’s not talk about those.

But on the turf, she becomes something else entirely—nothing short of a monster.

Her tiny frame unleashes unbelievable natural speed. She has the stamina to pull off outrageous breakaway runs. Her final straight is unmatched—enough to mow down everyone in front of her. And she can handle short intervals between races as if they’re nothing.

Every time I rewatch race footage, I’m forced to acknowledge her strength all over again.

And that’s exactly why I want to win.

I want to say it—I want to prove that I am stronger.

My first chance came in February at the Kyodo News Hai.

For me, it was my first attempt on turf. Meanwhile, she had already beaten Grass on turf—already a Grade 1-level Uma Musume. Trainer-san said the race would probably be tough for me, but I still wanted to try.

And of course, I knew it would be a fierce battle.

In her first match against Grass—the Ivy Stakes—she won in a way that didn’t let Grass get anywhere near her.

After the Winning Live, Grass murmured something in the dorm that I’ve never forgotten:

"That girl doesn’t see me as a competitor. Actually… I get the feeling she doesn’t even consider other Uma Musume as opponents she might win or lose against."

After that, she beat Grass again with a suicidal escape pace. Considering Trainer-san watched that up close, it’s no wonder he tried to stop me.

However, the conditions for the Kyodo News Hai ended up being entirely in my favor.

Because of the snow, the race was changed to a dirt course—one she was unfamiliar with and I was good at.

And on top of that, I drew Gate 1 on a course where the inside was torn up.

Then, once the race began, she stumbled at the start and dropped to dead last.

At that point, I was already certain I would win. All I had to do was pass the Uma Musume ahead of me in the final stretch and that would be that.

But she flew.

When I later watched the footage, I doubted my own eyes.

She swung wide and dodged the entire pack, running a huge outside arc at the corner where the distance loss should have been fatal.

By the time she reached the straight, she had so much momentum that she was running close to the outer rail at top speed—and in an instant, she blasted past me.

She ran a completely reckless race like that, and yet afterward she was barely out of breath. Caked in mud from that brutal, punishing run, she didn’t even glance my way. Expressionless, she simply walked back in.

Three months have passed since then, and the chance for a rematch came far sooner than I expected.

And on the greatest possible stage.

For me—someone who didn’t follow the so-called royal road—the biggest goal of the spring season: the NHK Mile Cup.

For her, who is expected to become an undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume, this is a race she has no reason to enter.

More than that—under normal circumstances, she shouldn’t even be able to enter.

A packed race schedule leading up to the Satsuki Sho. Her fierce all-out run in the Satsuki Sho itself. And considering her next race after this should be the 2400m Derby, running a 1600m race like the NHK Mile Cup here could easily throw off her rhythm.

Above all else, the physical and mental strain of back-to-back big races isn’t something one can simply push through.

And yet… she chose to run.

What is she seeking?

When I asked her directly, she dodged the question, but the answer is obvious.

A rival.

An opponent worthy of standing as her equal.

If that’s the case, then who could possibly fit that role—no, more importantly, I will prove that I am stronger than she is.

The race developed in a way eerily similar to the Kyodo News Hai.

She drew Gate 1. I drew Gate 9. And the inside track was a muddy mess.

I took the lead early and secured the perfect position. She, unable to accelerate at the start, was trapped on the inside.

But I cannot afford to relax for even a moment. I have no idea when that monstrous late kick of hers will come roaring from the far outside.

From just before the fourth corner, I begin accelerating, keeping the lead with room to spare.

She still hasn’t come.

But the moment we enter the straight, I hear explosive hoofbeats bursting up from the inside.

For an instant, I pictured myself in a ring, facing down an opponent. All right—now the real battle begins.

Race Commentary

Now, El Condor Pasa moves up and takes the lead!
Just as they approach the fourth corner, El Condor Pasa takes command with authority, leaving the others behind!

What about Witolum Pedes?
Is she still not coming?
Is she stuck on the inside with nowhere to go?

Second-place Shinro George is pushing forward. The yellow silks—Hinoki Cutie—also advances from the outside.

And here comes Witolum Pedes!
She surges forward from the inside with incredible speed!

Can she break through from there?

But the one in front is El Condor Pasa! Breaking away early, El Condor Pasa drives down the straight! Six hundred meters to go! The long Tokyo straight—this is where the race is decided!

El Condor Pasa cuts through the wind at the head of the field!

But Witolum Pedes is closing in!
That gap is shrinking in an instant!

It’s two lengths—can El Condor Pasa hold on?

Shinro George in third is starting to struggle!

Will Witolum Pedes draw alongside—?
No! El Condor Pasa holds firm, running on pure determination!

El Condor Pasa digs deep and accelerates again!

One length between them—a duel!

Four hundred to go! They climb the hill!

As expected, it comes down to these two! Neither giving an inch!

El Condor Pasa still leads!
Witolum Pedes chasing in second!

And the rest of the field has fallen far, far behind!

Will the reigning dominance be broken here?
Or will the undefeated pride prevail?

El Condor Pasa still leads, but the gap is shrinking!
Two hundred to go—can she endure!?

But here comes Witolum Pedes! Witolum Pedes!
Charging up from the inside!

Two hundred meters left—she takes the lead!

El Condor Pasa clings on, but is slowly pushed back!

Witolum Pedes leads! As expected—she’s strong!

Second place, El Condor Pasa!
Third appears to be Shinro George!

Witolum Pedes breaks free!
And now—she crosses the finish!

A flawless twelve consecutive wins!
A champion worthy of the title!