Chapter 168: I’ll stop pretending to be well-behaved now.

If someone were asked who the strongest Uma Musume in France—or more broadly, in all of Europe—was, I believe the answer today would be very different from what people would have said a year ago.

A year ago, Europe had no clearly defined strongest runner.

Noble Singer. Nedirika. Kindness. Bale Rouge…

Many Uma Musume stood close to the summit, yet none who unquestionably ruled at the very top. Rather than a single dominant figure, numerous elite runners coexisted side by side. In Japan, I believe they call such an era a “Generation of Stars”—génération d'étoiles.

And I—Witch Evening—was one of those powers as well.

At first, I wasn’t rated very highly. But through my own ability, along with the promotional strategies I developed together with my trainer, I clawed my way upward.

I reached the level where I could compete in G1 races—and win, so long as I was in form.

One of Europe’s acknowledged elites.

That pride… that confidence… I truly carried it within me.

Which is precisely why—though it may sound rude—I believed I could win comfortably in races held in the East.

Japan.

An island nation that had only recently begun catching up to European standards.

To put it bluntly, at the time—at least from the European perspective—Japan was viewed as a region where only the very top layer had begun approaching world-class level.

Even though El Condor Pasa had achieved remarkable results, upsets were never rare in racing.

Viewed as a whole, many still believed Japan had yet to truly match Europe.

So even after hearing that the strongest Uma Musume in history had emerged there—even accounting for differences in track conditions—

I believed I could fight on equal footing.

Simply put…

I underestimated them.

I thought that with my ability, whether facing a genius or a dragon, I could catch them.

But… reality wasn’t so kind.

The race pace was completely unlike Europe—an absurdly fast, high-speed contest from the very start.

And within that environment, one runner stood so far beyond the rest that she practically shattered the field itself—

Hoshino Wilm’s overwhelming pace.

And clinging to that pace with monstrous endurance was Mejiro McQueen.

Trying to follow them, I was gradually ground down, my stamina completely exhausted.

I didn’t even finish third behind them.

I was overtaken by Silver Pigeon—who hadn’t even been performing well recently—and crossed the line in fourth place.

…but truthfully,

what shocked me wasn’t losing.

"Next time, at the Arima Kinen. I’ll be the one who wins."

"No… next time, victory will still be mine!"

After the race, I couldn’t understand their words, spoken in the local language.

But Hoshino Wilm and Mejiro McQueen—after battling each other—were chatting warmly together.

And within their field of vision…

there wasn’t even the slightest trace of me.

In other words, I hadn’t even reached the point where I could stand beside them.

The backs of those two Uma Musume talking together felt impossibly distant.

No matter how far I reached, I couldn’t touch them.

That realization shattered my confidence far more than defeat ever could.

Then, this year—

a new Uma Musume appeared, one possessing the brilliance of someone truly capable of standing at Europe’s summit.

Her name was Understandible.

Despite late physical development and a small frame disadvantageous for racing, she had never once lost since debut—and had gone on to achieve three consecutive Oaks victories.

I met her once during a joint interview project.

And… Understandible truly felt different from the rest of us.

With a body that should have lacked the necessary physical gifts, she defeated her generation as if it were only natural.

Through explosive growth, she had already gained the ability to run shoulder to shoulder with us.

That talent alone deserved immense praise.

But more than anything—

what reflected in her eyes wasn’t us.

It was the back of the dragon I myself had once watched that day.

…Hoshino Wilm was the same.

I didn’t even exist within her sight.

She looked only toward rivals capable of resisting her at equal—or greater—levels.

In that sense, Understandible exists in the same out-of-bounds realm as Hoshino Wilm.

…Though honestly, she might like Hoshino Wilm a little too much.

Monsters beyond reach existed both abroad and at home.

So what did I do, knowing I would someday race against them?

Naturally, my trainer and I devoted ourselves entirely to training—and to thoroughly analyzing them.

In her early days, Witch Evening wasn’t highly regarded.

But through relentless training and research, I gained the strength needed to capture my opponents—and earned recognition.

That was the only method I’d ever known.

And it was the only one I needed.

This time would be no different.

The terror of Hoshino Wilm remains burned into my mind.

Simply chasing her makes her presence impossible to ignore.

Increase your pace, and she crushes you outright.

Fail to chase, and you’ll never reach her before the finish.

An unavoidable monster.

Understandible’s rate of growth is equally terrifying.

Most frightening of all is her stamina.

Even now, she can comfortably complete 2400 meters at G1 pace—more than worthy of being called a first-class stayer.

And she achieved that in less than a year after reaching full development…

Which makes it impossible to predict just how strong she’ll be at the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe two months from now.

Still…

Against monsters like them, the only answer I have ever known is simple:

Train myself.

Call it “magic” if you like—victory is ultimately decided by one’s own ability.

Though… winning cleanly through preparation and skill—

that is what I choose to call magic.

---

And before I knew it—

the day arrived.

The Eastern monster, Hoshino Wilm.

The dragon who had crossed continents to conquer these gates was about to run her first race here.

G2 — the Prix Foy.

Before the race, which both Nedirika and I were also entered in, she spoke calmly during an interview.

She would run, test how much strength she could display—

and naturally, win.

Hearing my trainer’s translation, I couldn’t help but smile wryly.

Of course she would say that.

I knew that arrogance.

That insolence.

She shows interest only in those capable of surpassing her—and offers no recognition without undeniable strength.

A runner who couldn’t even compete with her in last year’s Japan Cup… someone who faded like I did…

would never earn her attention.

…Which also meant there was an opening to exploit.

In stories, it’s always the hero who slays the dragon.

But sometimes—

a story where the magician defeats the dragon should exist too.

Passing through the underground tunnel, I stepped onto the turf.

The rain that had fallen until yesterday had stopped, and sunlight poured down from a brilliantly clear sky.

The sudden brightness nearly blinded me, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes.

…So it cleared after all.

Just as the forecast predicted.

According to my trainer’s research, Japanese Uma Musume struggle on heavy European turf.

The grass alone prevents them from achieving the same speed as back home—and poor footing further disrupts their usual racing style.

Hoshino Wilm, being Japanese, likely wouldn’t escape that weakness either.

Honestly, I would have preferred a torrential downpour and a truly heavy track…

But what’s done is done.

At least slightly soft ground is still fortunate.

Later, when I was called to the paddock, I performed my usual trick—pulling colorful flowers from my hat—and successfully excited the crowd.

Good. Practice had paid off.

For racing Uma Musume, the paddock is an appeal stage.

A moment to thank fans, gain new supporters, and build expectations for the race to come.

Because I lacked elite bloodlines and possessed a small frame, gaining supporters after debut had been extremely difficult.

And the solution I established was—

a character persona based on my racing name.

Witch Evening.

The confident, flamboyant personality people imagine upon hearing that name is merely one of the masks I wear.

My true nature… honestly speaking, I’m probably not very playful or entertaining at all. Even my trainer teases me about it sometimes.

Truthfully, I’m not especially fond of claiming I “win through magic.”

Personally, I believe race results are decided by ability—and circumstance.

But still…

*"Il faut casser le noyau pour avoir l'amande."*¹

To reach the sweet, magical result called victory, one must first break through the hard shell of effort.

That’s how I justify it to myself.

And in reality, this persona helped me gain many fans.

If it makes them happy, then a little acting is a cheap price to pay.

That’s why I continue performing as Witch Evening the Magician.

…Except when I’m with my trainer.

Come to think of it, according to my trainer, there’s apparently a rumor that even Hoshino Wilm puts on an act in front of her fans, just like I do.

From what I’ve heard, her bloodline was almost completely unknown, and her build is even slightly smaller than mine. She may have struggled quite a bit when she first debuted.

If that’s true…

then I can’t help feeling a small sense of kinship with her.

While thinking about that, I continued stretching when a voice suddenly called out from behind me.

"Witch Evening."

When I turned around, another racing Uma Musume stood there.

Short chestnut hair marked by a beautiful flowing blaze, a physique even smaller than mine, and a large black-and-blue dress-like racing outfit paired with pure white long boots.

Her deep ultramarine eyes carried the unfathomable stillness of a silent sea. Combined with her rarely changing expression and cool demeanor, they formed the calm, unshakable aura that defined her presence.

Her name was Nedirika.

Like me, she was one of Europe’s acknowledged elite Uma Musume.

Though we debuted in the same generation, I pursued the Oaks route while she followed the Derby circuit, so we rarely faced each other directly.

However… ever since we competed at the recent Grand Prix de Saint-Cloud, she seemed to have taken a liking to me. Since then, she had frequently approached me like this.

…For the record, in that race, I did manage to finish ahead of her—but ultimately lost by five lengths to another runner from our generation, Bale Rouge.

…Well.

Best to swallow that bitter memory.

We’re in front of fans—and rivals. Carelessness isn’t allowed.

In a single blink, I switched my mindset from my “plain self” to that of the “magician,” then faced her.

"Hey there, Nedirika! Has it been four days?"

"Yes. Judging by your demeanor, you seem quite confident."

Her husky voice was calm and restrained.

Between her cool appearance and that voice, she enjoyed considerable popularity among female fans.

Though, if I’m being honest, I’m fairly popular with them myself.

Which makes her a direct competitor. I can’t afford to lose fans during a preparatory race like this.

"Naturally. My magic is invincible! Even against a dragon, I won’t fall behind again!"

I declared it boldly—but half of that was bluff.

Truthfully, whether my strength would work against Hoshino Wilm remained uncertain. My trainer had said, "We’ll have to use this race to measure how well she performs here."

…Still, the other half was genuine.

Ever since hearing that Hoshino Wilm would run in the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe, I had devoted myself completely to preparing for our rematch.

Confidence is built through steady, daily training.

And in that regard, I pride myself on losing to no one.

So it wasn’t a lie.

If anything, it was simply dressing my true feelings in elegant clothing.

There’s nothing shameful about it.

Both my “plain self” and my “magician self” are equally me.

"Good confidence. That is how a racing Uma Musume should be.

…Though this time, your words may border on bravado."

As she said this, Nedirika glanced toward the paddock I had just come from.

And there—

she stood.

Semi-long chestnut hair streaked with a single dark lock.

A body even smaller than mine.

Matching ornaments adorning both ears.

Her facial features differed entirely from those of European Uma Musume, and within them shone small, cool-toned eyes filled solely with passion for the race before her.

The monster from the East.

The dragon sought for a decisive battle against heroes.

…the racing Uma Musume who had utterly defeated me that day.

Hoshino Wilm.

Even while standing in the paddock, she made no exaggerated appeal.

She simply stood there with composure—and flicked the brooch fastened to her chest.

The gray, particle-like mantle said to be the origin of her nickname unfolded outward…

And the racing outfit I could never forget—one I had seen less frequently in her recent races—returned in its complete form.

A short crimson-based jacket accented with pale gray.

Innerwear and black shorts lined with white.

A light-gray star brooch—and from her back extended a radiant, intangible mantle.

Compared to her second outfit, the design was simple.

Yet that simplicity felt like proof of her true self—stripped of ornamentation, revealing the blazing fighting instinct rising from deep within.

That wasn’t the figure of an invincible champion.

It may have been—

the form of a single racing Uma Musume.

A warrior.

And because of that…

she merely stood proudly before the crowd.

No unnecessary performance.

As if silently declaring: Believe in me. Entrust your dreams to this back.

I found myself staring before I realized it—

and then, beside me, I heard something incredibly rare.

"Heh. Even Witch Evening can’t help feeling tense when facing Hoshino Wilm, it seems?"

"…You startled me. You actually smile?"

"How rude. I am an Uma Musume, you know."

At my reflexive remark, Nedirika immediately returned to her usual expressionless face.

Since she was always so stoic, I had half believed she lacked emotions altogether—but apparently, she possessed perfectly normal feelings after all.

Well, I hide my expressions behind a mask too. I’m hardly one to talk.

"I still owe her for last year’s Japan Cup. Of course I have thoughts about facing her again.

But this isn’t tension—it’s motivation.

I am a first-rate magician and a first-rate entertainer. Standing before a race and my fans, I’m no amateur whose legs tremble from nerves!"

I declared proudly.

This time—

those words were one hundred percent sincere.

There was a time when those results left me deeply discouraged…

But now, as I look at her back, what rises within me isn’t fear—

only an overwhelming fighting spirit.

I want to compete with her.

I want to defeat her.

I want to see the view that lies beyond surpassing her.

That desire is what sets my heart ablaze.

…Ah.

For a mysterious magician meant to remain composed and unreadable, this probably isn’t something I should let show.

I quietly sealed away the heat swelling inside me and looked up at the Uma Musume beside me with a smile.

"So, what about you, Nedirika? She’s hailed as the strongest Uma Musume of the East—surely you have thoughts?"

"...Hmm."

She watched Hoshino Wilm for several seconds—

then gave a small nod before answering.

"I can’t beat that."

"…What?"

Honestly, that statement surprised me far more than seeing her smile earlier.

Racing Uma Musume Nedirika… how should I put it?

If I had to compare her to something, she’s like a knight.

No matter who her opponent is, she challenges them with everything she has—and believes she will overcome them.

That’s the kind of straightforward, honorable girl she is.

She never speaks negatively about a race.

No matter the situation, she declares, "I will win." And even if she loses, she simply says, "I’ll win next time."

Like a boar—or perhaps a charging bull—she knows only how to move straight ahead.

That may sound harsh, but in truth, she is simply unwaveringly direct.

It doesn’t quite suit my character to say aloud, but I’ve always liked that about her. I even felt a certain sympathy toward it.

Which is why I never expected Nedirika to plainly declare, "I can’t win."

Before my widened eyes, she calmly continued.

"But even so, I will win."

"...You can’t win, yet you’ll win? That’s quite a paradox."

"Right now, I cannot win. The conditions are unfavorable. Information is insufficient. The gap is too large. All of those factors make victory impossible."

"...Nedirika, I didn’t realize you thought about things so logically. I assumed you’d always just say, ‘I’ll win.’"

"There is a difference between challenging a race with a chance of victory and boasting of victory when none exists.

Until now, I simply always had a path to win."

"And now you don’t? This should be her first race since arriving here."

"...Rather, Witch Evening—after seeing that, do you truly believe there is a chance?"

Confused, I tilted my head toward her.

But without meeting my gaze, she continued watching Hoshino Wilm and nodded faintly to herself.

"I see. So that’s the difference… How troublesome."

"Um… what exactly are we talking about?"

Still perfectly calm, she proceeded to reveal something utterly unbelievable.

"It seems I possess a kind of sixth sense. One connected directly to my vision through synesthesia.

At times like this, what I perceive differs from what others see, which causes misunderstandings. That is what I meant by troublesome."

I blinked repeatedly.

A sixth sense.

Something beyond the five senses possessed by both Uma Musume and human trainers—

intuition… or perhaps something closer to spiritual perception.

Nedirika had something like that?

It sounded difficult to believe. Though admittedly, it felt strange for someone who calls herself a magician to deny such things.

…If anything, wouldn’t that make her far more of a magician than me?

As I looked up at her with mixed emotions, she stroked her chin thoughtfully and continued.

"...When I look at her, I see something enormous layered over her. A vast gray presence.

Uma Musume with large ‘colors’ are strong. And this one exceeds the scale I can possibly deal with."

"So… you mean she looks stronger than anything you’ve seen here before?"

Nedirika had run five G1 races and won two of them.

For someone like her to openly declare defeat for the first time…

I assumed that meant this color she described surpassed anything seen in Europe.

But she slowly shook her head.

"No. She is the third."

"...That many? Who were the others?"

"The first was the golden radiance of Montjeu at his peak, which I witnessed several years ago. That was immense—but of a slightly different nature.

And the second was…"

"The second?"

She paused and shifted her gaze toward the spectator stands.

Following her line of sight, I looked as well—

…and immediately froze.

…Oh.

She’s here.

A very familiar Uma Musume stood there.

She wore an extremely suspicious disguise—mask, sunglasses, and cap—but it was hopelessly ineffective.

The girl waved her entire body in wildly enthusiastic cheers, attracting enormous attention.

Her small stature, blond hair tinged with brown, and the tiara-shaped ornament on her left ear…

Anyone in this country would recognize her instantly.

In fact—

she was currently considered Europe’s strongest contender.

What on earth is she doing?

Well… cheering, obviously. She must have come to watch Hoshino Wilm.

Beside her, her contracted trainer clutched his head in despair, which made me feel slightly sorry for him.

As I watched with an awkward smile, realization struck me.

"...Ah, the second one."

"That’s right. Her. The Heroic Princess—Understandible.

Her gold tinged with white is still rough around the edges… but its scale rivals even Hoshino Wilm’s."

Understandible is scheduled to run in the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe this October.

She is apparently set to race in the St Leger Stakes beforehand, but even if she were to lose there, her popularity has already reached overwhelming heights.

Unless something unexpected occurs, her participation is practically guaranteed.

And there, alongside her, will be Hoshino Wilm—

as well as Nedirika and me.

"...That means—"

I met her gaze instinctively—

and almost at the same moment, we both spoke.

"Sounds like fun!"

"This will be enjoyable."

There is no Uma Musume who fears battle when challenging the gates of greatness—when striving to stand at the pinnacle of the world.

We love to run.

We enjoy racing.

We rejoice in competing against the strong.

And we find exhilaration in victory.

Those who stand at the summit of Uma Musume racing—

or perhaps hopeless racing addicts like us—

are exactly that kind of being.

"At present, I cannot win. Though difficult to accept, I acknowledge this as my own failing.

However, I will fully utilize this experience and claim victory at the Gate. For the sake of strategic triumph, I shall use this race as preparation.

Of course, I will still fight with everything I have."

"You don’t have to say it. No Uma Musume holds back in a race.

But if you’re going to sound that cautious, maybe I’ll just take this race with my magic instead!"

I deliberately teased her as I looked up.

After meeting my eyes, Nedirika briefly looked surprised—

then slowly curled her lips into a fierce, predatory grin.

"Heh. Bold words.

…Still, you’re right. That wasn’t very like me.

Then let me correct myself. Whether it’s the Foy or the Arc—victory will be mine."

"That’s more like it! Let’s both give it everything we’ve got!"

As we exchanged spirited words ahead of the approaching race—

"Hey, you two."

A voice suddenly called out to us.

The Uma Musume who had just emerged from the paddock stood there—

the very opponent we had been most conscious of.

Hoshino Wilm.

For reasons unknown, she stared directly at Nedirika and me with those pale, almost mystical eyes.

…Facing her like this made it unmistakable.

The overwhelming pressure she carried.

I don’t possess any sixth sense, yet even I could feel it clearly—

she stood at an entirely different height as a racing Uma Musume.

As we both fell silent, she slowly opened her mouth.

Her pronunciation wasn’t perfect—

but unmistakably, she spoke in French.

"La victoire est à moi — Victory belongs to me."

…Had she been listening to our conversation?

After saying only that, she turned her back and walked away.

"...Hmm. A declaration of war, I suppose. Looks like we’ve caught her attention."

I scratched the back of my head with a troubled sigh.

I hadn’t expected to stand out to her—let alone already be on her radar.

My strategy had assumed she wouldn’t focus on me at all.

Well, plans were never limited to just one. I could simply shift to the next-best approach.

Still, at the very least, the easy path to victory had just disappeared.

Unlike my troubled expression, Nedirika’s eyes gleamed with eerie excitement.

"Naturally. However… I see now. No matter how far beyond us she may seem, Hoshino Wilm is still the same as us—an Uma Musume."

"Hm? Ah… heh, I see."

In other words—

our overflowing passion had stirred something within her as well.

Even if words failed us, we understood one another through racing instinct alone—

no, we had understood each other.

…Ah.

I feel like I understand her just a little better now.

And once again—

"I really want to win."

Hoshino Wilm.

The terrifying Gray Dragon who, together with that legendary performer, utterly crushed me that day.

The racetrack is different now.

The ground conditions are different.

The competitors, our respective strengths—even my own understanding—

everything has changed since that day a year ago.

How close can I get to her today?

Can I surpass her back?

…Ah.

I can hardly wait to find out.