Chapter 36: After the Race

Even with the familiar distance, the familiar track, and my familiar horseshoes, today felt unbelievably easy to run. Normally, when I’m behind someone, matching their pace is difficult, but with Suzuka-san, she keeps pulling ahead with such a steady rhythm that my own speed naturally stabilizes.

And because she maintained that fast pace all the way into the final stretch, passing her was harder than usual. As expected of a senior-class runner—she clearly knows how to race.

Watching her from behind during the run, her form looked incredibly beautiful. No wonder Spe-chan admires her so much.

While I was thinking that and staring at Suzuka-san, our eyes naturally met.

Suzuka-san stepped closer and said,
"Congratulations. But next time, I won’t lose."

The declaration was so cool—like something straight out of a battle manga—that I ended up responding that I wouldn’t lose next time either.

After we silently stared at each other for a moment, we shook hands and went our separate ways.

Then my trainer hugged me with a face that looked seconds away from crying. As usual, he’s so dramatic.

The interview caused a stir, but I’ve gotten used to that lately. Today’s commotion felt even louder than usual, though. My trainer answered most of the questions, but there are always a few reporters who insist on talking to me directly. Honestly, even if they ask me things, I don’t know what to say.

Most of their questions are nothing special, so if I give a vague answer, they take it as something meaningful. But one thing I absolutely couldn’t tolerate was when they treated my classmates like my enemies.

They asked,
"Are you saying there are no rivals in your own grade?"
—pretending to be considerate while implying that I must be running the Tenno Sho because the Kikuka Sho runners are harassing me or something.

I’m not good at talking, but even I couldn’t stay quiet for that. Ignoring my trainer trying to stop me, I firmly stated that no one in my grade is my enemy. Once I said it clearly, the reporter finally backed down. Wow… I guess I really can stand my ground when I need to.

As for the finer details, my trainer went off on a complicated explanation. It had a lot of fancy wording, so it was hard to keep up, but I think the gist was: worries about my condition after traveling, concerns about the long distance affecting my legs, wanting to race against someone specific in the Tenno Sho—something along those lines.

Still, it really is a hassle how every race choice needs such complicated reasoning.

Speaking of races, apparently Sei-chan won her race in Kyoto, which was held around the same time as mine. I heard she pulled off a brilliant strategy to break ahead of Stay-senpai and Bright-san.

That’s just like Sei-chan. I’ve lost count of how many times she suddenly claims the entire sofa the moment I look away. She’s definitely an Uma Musume worth being wary of.

After finishing the Winning Live as usual and heading back toward the dorm, I faintly heard some kind of strange yelling from far away. Now that I think about it, there was an old rumor that sometimes you can hear a Uma Musume screaming from the hole near the school building.

It was early evening, with no moon and only faint starlight. The heavy air clung to everything around me.

Feeling uneasy, I rushed into my empty dorm room and locked the door immediately, but for some reason, that yelling sounded like a voice I had heard before.

Checking my phone before bed, I saw LANE messages from King-chan, Spe-chan, and a few others. They all congratulated me on today’s victory and said it was a shame we couldn’t run the Kikuka Sho together. They ended with something like "Good luck in the Tenno Sho."

I really have such wonderful friends—it feels almost too good for me. Of course, I replied with my thanks and "Good luck in the Kikuka Sho." Running 3000 meters in Kyoto… they’re seriously amazing.

By the way, King-chan had several messages she sent and then deleted. I wonder if she needed something. But since she didn’t follow up afterward, it probably wasn’t anything important.

Silence Suzuka’s POV

How many times have I watched her run now?

From the mock race we had the first day we met, all the way to the Derby where she raced against Spe-chan, I’ve seen her run in all kinds of situations. But I think this is the first time I’ve ever felt such overwhelming force from her.

It was enough to make her feel even more imposing than the many Uma Musume who ran in the Tenno Sho or the Takarazuka Kinen.

Her dash out of the gate.

My start was perfect—exactly the way I always want it. Hers was just as clean, but since I had the inner lane, I should’ve been able to take the lead before she could cut in from the outside.

But that expectation was overturned almost immediately.

She stopped trying to take the lead on the straight and tucked herself right behind me. For a front-runner like me, taking the lead and dictating the pace is essential for victory. The fact that she gave that up on purpose honestly surprised me. But instead of trying to figure out her intentions, it was better to use the situation to my advantage.

Maintaining the front, I ran with a smooth, steady rhythm—my own world, wrapped in sharp air and the roaring cheers of the crowd.

The pace was perfect. Feeling the comfort of leading, I began to accelerate. This was the usual moment to widen my advantage. The goal was the three-length lead my trainer always talks about.

But this was where her true strength revealed itself.

No matter how much I pushed forward to shake her off—or slowed down to break the rhythm—she never wavered. No matter what I tried, she stayed firmly planted exactly one length behind me.

If I wanted to burst forward on the final straight, I absolutely had to create that lead here.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, she repeatedly threatened to overtake from the outside from the third to the fourth corner.
A brief acceleration, a slight shift left or right—just small movements, but enough to completely throw me off.

If I panicked and sped up to avoid being passed, I’d fall straight into her trap. I’d burn through the stamina I needed to build my lead, while she would simply sit behind me, unshaken.

Unable to pull away and unable to ease up, we entered the final stretch.

I could hear the footsteps of the other five closing in behind us, but my attention was fixed on only one person.

If I didn’t launch my sprint at the exact moment she did—or even a fraction earlier—I’d be left behind without question. That’s why I focused on sensing the slightest sign of her move.

Then, the moment we entered the straight, it happened.

Her footfalls changed.

In just a single step, the light, quick rhythm transformed into a heavy sound that seemed to gouge the ground, and even the air around her shifted.

I hurried into my own sprint, but I was too late. By her third stride, her body was already right beside mine.

I’d heard Spe-chan describe it countless times. My trainer too. And I’d seen it with my own eyes again and again. But running the same race was the first time I truly understood.

The fierce finishing burst Spe-chan saw in the Derby was now coming straight for me.

I held on for a moment, but after running without a proper chance to breathe, I had no stamina left to accelerate up the slope.

All I could do was watch as that small yet immense back slowly—but unmistakably—pulled farther and farther away from me.