Chapter 100: Tenno Sho (Spring) – Final Preparations

Several days had passed since I mastered the new running style—Super Front-Running—and at last, the lineup for the Tenno Sho (Spring) was finalized.

Apollo Rainbow.
Special Week.
Seiun Sky.
Mejiro Bright.
Machikane Fukukitaru.
Jara Jara.
Destiny.
Little Flower.
Joyous.
Jewel Zircon.
Ribbon Finale.
Illapa.
Jewel Amethyst.
Stay Shine.
Duo Target.
Yum Yum Parfait.
Rapid Builder.
Reverent.

A full gate of 18 had gathered. Most were horse girls who had battled in the Kikuka Sho, Stayers Stakes, or Arima Kinen. Though this was Japan’s longest G1 at 3,200 meters, many of them were confident in their pace-keeping and stamina management. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down.

Among them, five were G1-winning horse girls: Apollo Rainbow, Special Week, Seiun Sky, Mejiro Bright, and Machikane Fukukitaru. I’d raced against all of them before, and more than a few were rivals with… unpleasant memories attached.

With the roster now set, we held a strategy meeting to solidify our path to victory in the Tenno Sho (Spring).

After classes and lunch, I knocked on the trainer’s office door—then walked in without waiting for a response. Tomio was just finishing his meal. I eyed his food suspiciously, making sure it wasn’t cup noodles or convenience store bento, but relaxed when I saw it was a simple homemade dish.

"Good work in class. I’ll finish eating quickly, so just wait a sec."

"Nah, take your time. Do what you want."

"Mmm… thanks for the consideration."

He spun his swivel chair around and resumed eating at his desk. Lately, he’d gotten into cooking for himself, claiming it was "pretty fun," which put me at ease.

On his computer screen, Spe-chan’s face and race data took up half the display, while the other half was crammed with interview schedules and appointments.

With the influx of new students and rookie trainers this spring, the academy was buzzing with fresh energy—but trainers’ workloads hadn’t lightened. Even Tomio, a dedicated trainer, was pushing himself relentlessly.

It wasn’t fair to compare, but the inhuman workloads of trainers like Rigil’s or Spica’s were terrifying. How could a single person manage that many horse girls…?

"Tomio, you’re not overworking yourself, right?"

"Hm? I’m sleeping fine, and I’m not as exhausted as before. Don’t want you worrying about me."

"Hmmm… really?"

"Y-Yeah… Why so suspicious?"

I circled behind him and started playing with his hair as he ate. Against the backdrop of Special Week’s race data—memorized so thoroughly I could recall it with my eyes closed—I twisted and tugged at Tomio’s stiff strands.

"Totally different from a girl’s hair~."

"Obviously. I’m almost done, so get ready."

"Yeah, yeah."

This pointless contact had a purpose, of course: stockpiling affection. The more fuel for my burning heart, the better. Touching someone dear, confirming their presence, stirring up restless passion—all fodder for the "Unknown Territory Zone."

……Not that I need an excuse! Light contact like this is just right. Anything deeper, and "I" (if not "he") would overheat from embarrassment. Pathetic, huh?

"Thanks for the meal. …Apollo, mind letting go now?"

"Ah, sorry! We can start the meeting whenever!"

While Tomio took his dishes to the kitchen, I grabbed a pen and notebook and sat on the sofa. Spec-chan’s smiling face on the monitor caught my eye, and I smirked. That adorable face… but now, as rivals, her smile was terrifying in the best way.

After placing third in last year’s Japan Cup, Spec-chan went on break before returning this year in the Osaka Hai, where she defeated Grass Wonder and proved her Derby-winning strength. For the Tenno Sho (Spring), I expected the popularity to split between me and her.

When Tomio returned, the "Tenno Sho (Spring) Opponent Strategy Meeting" began.

"We’re strategizing against all 17 competitors. First, Japan’s top stayers—Special Week, Seiun Sky, Mejiro Bright, Machikane Fukukitaru, and Jara Jara. These five are the focus."

He listed the names on the whiteboard. Just fighting one of them would be tough, but five? With front-runners like Seiun Sky and Jara Jara, my options would be severely limited.

"First, Seiun Sky and Jara Jara. Even with your Super Front-Running, they’re still the biggest early-game threats."

His marker screeched as he wrote. Between the monitor and whiteboard, my hands and eyes were busy taking notes.

Tomio outlined Jara Jara and Seiun Sky’s opening accelerations. The data sheet on the monitor vanished, replaced by footage of their starts—edited to loop relentlessly.

"Comparing your acceleration out of the gate, if we set Apollo’s Front-Running at ‘1’ and Super Front-Running at ‘1.2,’ Seiun Sky is ‘0.8–1’ and Jara Jara is ‘0.9–1.’ Even with Super Front-Running, don’t get careless in the positioning battle."

"...I’m confident in my starts, but if they get inside posts while I’m stuck wide… who knows?"

Super Front-Running burned stamina explosively for short-distance speed and acceleration. The downside? Extreme physical strain and difficulty cornering. Skipping the positioning battle was its greatest advantage—but if "widest post," "heavy track," "both rivals inside," and "terrible condition" aligned, I’d relive the hell of the Satsuki Sho. Unlikely, though.

"I’ve got a backup plan for the worst post scenario. Don’t worry."
"Ugh… so cool."

"Regardless, watch Jara Jara more than Seiun Sky early on. Seiun Sky rarely forces the lead unless conditions favor her—she can stalk from 2nd or 3rd. Jara Jara, though? She’s scarier because she only wins from the front."

He pointed to footage of Jara Jara boldly breaking away. Gone was the messy debut vibe—she’d refined her style into a tricky, tempo-controlling front-run.

"Jara Jara’s a different beast now. Her recent wins show wildly shifting tactics—she’s still evolving."

He pulled up her split times: in the Diamond Stakes, she held ~13-second 200m splits until the final 600m, while in the Hanshin Daishoten, she alternated between 11s and 15s mid-race.

Unlike Seiun Sky’s psychological warfare, Jara Jara seemed to follow pre-set race plans. Strong when in rhythm, but if denied the lead? Done. A style not unlike mine.

Honestly, if I used my usual start and let Super Front-Running’s speed take over, I could seize the lead and hold it to the finish.

A running style that silences all front-runners—that was Super Front-Running. With this overwhelming stamina, I should win nine times out of ten.

But it’s precisely because there’s even the slightest chance of losing that you must never let your guard down. You have to devise a plan that covers every detail and go into the actual race in a state of complete preparedness. There’s a reason why so few Uma Musume retire undefeated.

You can never have too many walking sticks to prevent a fall. The odds of someone matching pace right out of the gate are low, but—what if you stumble the moment the gate opens? What if your starting dash fails? What if you’re in terrible condition and can’t pick up speed? What if your outermost lane placement prevents you from cutting in effectively?—

And what if you haven’t considered the possibility of someone pulling alongside or even taking the lead, and you freeze up, your mind going completely blank? A professional is someone who prepares for those worst-case scenarios and plans exactly how to overcome them.

"—First off, if Jara Jara or Seiun Sky comes up beside you. Sorry, but you’re going to have to grit your teeth and shake Jara Jara off to steal the lead. Jara Jara and Seiun Sky both have long-lasting sprints, but they’re no Apollo. If they try to push, trust your stamina and never back down. If she gives up, great. If not, just keep going and grind her down—until she breaks."

Of course, this is all hypothetical. He’s talking about the unlucky case where the long-distance sprint power of an extreme front-runner in a short-distance race somehow aligns with Jarajara’s top-end speed. If several bad conditions stack up against me, then sure, this might actually happen.

"Next—if by some stroke of bad luck, someone takes the lead and gets fully ahead of you. Honestly, if that happens, Apollo’s done for. If they’re just beside you, that’s one thing, but I need you to promise me that you’ll never lose the fight for the front."

When I lose the lead, my race performance takes a nosedive. I don’t know if it’s something I was born with or a side effect of “me” being possessed, but—either way, if I’m not in front, I will lose. That’s just the kind of Uma Musume I am.

I lost the Satsuki Sho because of that. Seiun Sky stole the lead, and my lack of intelligence led me to panic halfway through. I walked straight into her trap—like a fool.

When I’m not leading, my vision narrows, and my thoughts get boxed in. If there’s someone in front of me, I can’t focus, my form falls apart, and nothing good comes of it.

No matter how badly things go, I have to take the lead somehow—that’s just how I’m wired.

"Alright, that covers the early part of the race. Now let’s talk about the second half."

Tomio continued, pulling up images of Special Week, Mejiro Bright, and Machikane Fukukitaru—strong back-of-the-pack types. They’re the ones expected to make a charge in the final 1000 meters.

"The scariest among them is... well, obviously, Special Week. You know she took first in the Osaka Hai, right? But she’s not the same girl she was last year."

Tomio started playing footage from Special Week’s Osaka Hai run. She surged past Grass Wonder, who had broken into the lead on the final stretch, and widened the gap at the finish. That sharp closing speed, combined with her improved race instincts, was evident as she overtook Grass Wonder—who had already hit top speed.

In the end, all I can do against Spe-chan is rely on momentum and run like hell. But Tomio had a suggestion.

"Once you get to a certain level in racing, physical specs don’t differ much. On top of that, you’ve got to factor in mental toughness—how well someone handles pressure—and their nose for reading a race... But there’s one more thing that matters. That’s fighting spirit. There are a lot of Uma Musume who can go beyond their limits through sheer intensity."

"You’re saying Spe-chan’s one of them?"

"Exactly. She almost always unleashes that fighting spirit during the final burst in the second half. So—Apollo, when you sense that moment, I want you to raise your speed by one more gear."

"And what happens if I do?"

"Just like Sakura Bakushin O said: once back-runners kick into their final sprint, they won’t be able to catch you. Or—better yet, you’ll pull even farther ahead. And what does that lead to? Their spirit gets crushed, even a little, and Special Week will stumble mentally and start falling apart."

It’s a ruthless thing to say, but what I’m trying to do here is exactly that kind of tactic. If I were a back-runner, putting everything into my final sprint, only to see a front-runner widen the gap even further... I’d fall into despair, no question.

Thinking about it this way, I might look super cute, but what I’m doing is actually pretty evil... Like, devil-level evil.

"Another option is to open up such a massive lead that it sows panic in the back-runners. Let’s say you’ve got a 20-length gap mid-race. You’re running the back straight, and they’ve just started the turn. In that kind of scenario, do you think Apollo could catch up?"

"...Even with all the confidence in my final gear, that’s the kind of thing that’d make me freak out and overextend myself."

"Exactly. That’s why you should have more confidence in your legs, Apollo."

Saying that, Tomio suddenly reached out and patted my head. I flinched, my ears twitching upright. I almost let out a weird noise from the surprise, but managed to hold it in, settling for just letting my ears and tail wiggle in protest.

"...Wh-What was that for?"

“This is payback for earlier.”

“H-huh? Using that as an excuse to touch a girl’s hair? That’s seriously not okay…”

What really pissed me off was how good he was at it. His big hand gently brushed through my hair, and it made my whole body want to melt from this strange sense of comfort. A shiver of euphoria ran through my core, and before I knew it, I was leaning into Tomio.

He was so good at it, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was used to dealing with girls. Someone as attractive as him probably had dating experience…

“…Are you used to this?”

“Huh? Used to what?”

“N-nothing! Forget it!”

“Oh—was it weird how I petted you? We had a cat back home. Maybe I picked up some weird habits.”

As he spoke, Tomio switched to a light, ticklish stroke with the tips of his fingers. From the top of my head to my ears, he gently ruffled my fur as if tracing its lines.

He probably thought it was just harmless teasing, but this time, I couldn’t withstand the unfamiliar sensation. A searing heat lit up the crown of my head, and the pen I’d been holding slipped from my fingers. It tickled, it felt good, and it was borderline addictive. I couldn’t even sit still.

“Mmgh… s-stop, seriously—”

As I squirmed to resist his assault, Tomio finally pulled his hand back to pick up the fallen pen.

“Sorry, sorry. Anyway, let’s get to training. Speed, stamina, power… you’ve still got room to grow, and we need to work on that.”

He started tidying up the whiteboard, completely unaware that I still couldn’t stand up. I wiped a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth and puffed out my cheeks.

…I feel like I’m being played like a toy in Tomio’s hands.

Feeling a bit sulky, I dove into another intense training session under his guidance.

Just before we wrapped up for the day, Tomio suddenly said something.

“Oh, right. I just remembered—there’s something that’s been bugging me.”

“Huh?”

“At the Dubai Gold Cup—you had a nosebleed, didn’t you? That’s really not a good sign.”

“Oh, that? I don’t think it was anything serious.”

After the loss in Dubai, my nose suddenly started bleeding. It stopped quickly, so I hadn’t thought much of it. But clearly, Tomio hadn’t let it go. The fact he brought it up now meant it had been bothering him all this time.

“No, I don’t think so. I believe that nosebleed happened because you pushed yourself too hard, Apollo.”

“…Meaning?”

“I mean don’t overdo it. Your dreams and the races are important—but your body has to come first. You haven’t had any other weird symptoms, right? Bad headaches, tightness in your chest, stuff like that?”

“Nope, none of that… Besides, if I ran as hard as I did in Dubai every time I went for an all-out escape strategy, I’d probably drop dead.”

They say the nasal membranes are fragile during growth spurts, so nosebleeds can happen easily. Since it happened right after intense exercise, I’d chalked it up to that. Still… Tomio probably knows way more about human and Uma Musume anatomy than I do, so maybe I should tuck that concern away somewhere in my mind.

Win without overexerting myself… yeah, easier said than done.

“Please—don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I know, I know. If I burn myself out now, I won’t be able to go to Europe.”

I looked up at the sky, glowing crimson with the setting sun.

My current goal is to conquer the European G1 races. But that doesn’t mean I can slack off on the Tenno Sho (Spring). I’ll win the Tenno Sho, and then I’ll win in Europe too. That’s how we reach our dream—mine and my trainer’s—and head straight for the happiest of endings.

I’m Apollo Rainbow—the ambitious Uma Musume.

I’ll win in Japan and win around the world. The Tenno Sho, the Gold Cup, the Prix du Cadran—I’ll take them all.

Don’t forget the sting of defeat in Dubai.

That burning regret, like molten lava, still smolders deep inside me.