Chapter 116: How Are You Supposed to Win?

——At Chantilly Tracen Academy, deep in the forest track. A 4000-meter match race was about to take place on a tough course modeled after the Epsom Racecourse.

Acting as both referee and judge, Tomio recorded the race with a video camera, with Kayf Tara’s approval. Since this was a fair match, they had already agreed to share the footage with her as well.

There was no resistance to giving her footage of my run. If anything, we wanted a video of Kayf Tara’s racing. Kayf Tara, too, didn’t seem all that interested in her own footage—she looked more like she wanted mine, or at least my data.

Maybe we were feeling the same thing. My running is complete. There is no absolute countermeasure that can beat it. Precisely because it’s that kind of running—it’s the only kind that can compete with a rival’s phenomenal pace.

To be honest, my runaway strategy is seriously crazy. If anything, the real odd ones are the rivals who still manage to challenge that. I’ve even come to view it with a kind of detached clarity.

“All right, are you two ready?”

“Yeah.” “Uh-huh!”

“Looks like we’ve drawn an unexpected crowd, but you’ll be in the spotlight during the real thing too… let’s go ahead and start.”

Though the meet time had been set for after school—meaning after lunch—an unexpected number of spectators had gathered. Somehow, word got out, and people like Angely-chan, Alfrance, and other trainers were crowding around the track.

Tomio acted like he hadn’t expected this, but for Kayf Tara and me, other people’s gazes were like air. We’ve run in grade races so many times, we’re used to being watched.

…Though I really don’t love being seen by Angely-chan.

(Angely-chan… she’s definitely hiding her fangs.)

Angely. Winner of the G1 Gold Cup. One of the strongest stayers of 1999, having beaten Kayf Tara in that very race. Though Kayf Tara won the Cartier Award for Best Stayer in '99, she and Angely were effectively No. 1 and No. 2.

Angely had the ability to beat Kayf Tara during their racing days. That being the case, the Angely-chan existing in this world as a horse girl must be seriously strong too. Especially since I know how powerful Kayf Tara’s finishing burst is. The real-world Angely that beat her in the Gold Cup? Her potential here is impossible to measure.

I glance over at Angely-chan waving near the inside railing and let out a quiet breath. She pulls that cute little smile while holding the kind of strength needed to casually win the Prix Vicomtesse Vigier. She doesn’t stand out because Kayf Tara and I are here, but people don’t realize just how hard it is to win without showing any signs of weakness.

There are plenty of flashy racers who win by gambling on their style. The opposite is rare. Winning quietly means you were in control the entire time—which means you were overwhelmingly strong.

Winning without a single heart-pounding moment only happens when someone’s backed by invisible strength and experience. Chairperson Rudolf was sometimes called “too strong to be fun,” and that was only because he was normally just that strong. I wouldn’t be surprised if Angely-chan is already entering that realm.

Still, after discussing with Tomio, we decided Kayf Tara was the one to watch out for. That’s how we framed this match. If we end up losing, then we’ll just have to admit Angely-chan is stronger than both Kayf Tara and me. We’ve already made that call.

(…And besides, that girl’s on a winning streak in graded races, yet still looks like a late bloomer. Kayf Tara and Angely-chan both just have way too many strong elements piled on.)

After Angely’s victory in the 1999 Gold Cup, one of her connections supposedly said, “Angely’s a late bloomer. She’s only going to get better from here.” Whether that was just a nice comment or not, it’s true that many excellent stayers tend to blossom late. Quite a few horse girls hit their peak during the senior spring season.

Angely-chan is probably no exception—her real prime may be just beginning. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time or stamina to do a mock race against her, so I’ve got no choice but to cut her out of the equation for now.

“Take your positions.”

I pull down the hem of my gym uniform and step up to the starting line. I’m on the inside; Kayf Tara’s on the outside. Tomio, stopwatch in hand and flag in the other, stands diagonally in front of us, ready to give the starting signal. Since we had a crowd, he’d apparently handed the camera duty to someone else.

“Ready——…”

As the audience’s anticipation built up to a boil, Tomio made a sharp motion and waved the flag.

Pop! A crisp sound broke through the air as we kicked off the turf. With a roar, we accelerated, becoming twin gusts of wind. Cheers erupted from all corners of the forest. The peaceful murmur of Chantilly was shattered by the explosive atmosphere of the mock race’s beginning.

There was no commentary melting into our thoughts—just decent applause and the sound of four feet pounding the earth. The tension of a real race and the uninterrupted sense of sprinting made the whole thing feel oddly surreal.

The Epsom Racecourse was originally a 2400-meter track with no loops. This forest course had been remodeled from that classic horseshoe shape into an oval to allow for laps. That meant it had a unique 40-meter elevation difference, with one lap being about 2800 meters.

That 40-meter elevation gap? It was brutal. For a normal horse girl to do two laps and run 4000 meters here—it was easy to imagine they’d be completely wiped out.

Kayf Tara had trained extensively on this course. That’s probably why she’d developed such unthinkable strength. I kicked the soft turf, hitting top speed. As always, Kayf Tara stayed back. By the time we’d passed the first few hundred meters, there was already a four-length gap between us.

(She knows I don’t burn out in races anymore. And yet she’s not changing her style… That means she plans to stay behind in the actual race too.)

With my wide field of vision, I spotted Kayf Tara and caught sight of her golden eyes. Just a flicker of emotion swam through them like gentle waves. But what I saw clearly was her firm confidence and unshakable calm.

A burning heart, a cool mind. She was living that basic principle to perfection, sticking to her own pace. We’d already passed the 600-meter mark and hit the final straight. 3400 meters left. The gap had widened to eight lengths.

At this point, it was my pace. Or rather—it had become my pace because Kayf Tara had no intention of taking the lead. Every other opponent I’d faced had, without exception, chased me down. When someone remains this completely indifferent to a runaway lead, you can’t help but feel a strange kind of doubt: “Is she really going to catch up by the end?”

Of course, extra thoughts only weaken your fighting spirit. Everyone knows that I’m at my strongest when I stick to a pure runaway strategy. I climbed the steep home straight slope and kept extending my lead over Kayf Tara.

“Go, Apollo-san!”

“Kyaa~! So cool and cute~!”

Voices I’d never normally hear tore through the air as I raced over the raised hill. More like off-road than a track. Lush green grass and wildly uneven, soft ground sent direct shocks to my cardiovascular system. A dull ache was already blooming in my chest. With about 3000 meters to go, I was already feeling the strain.

(Ugh… this hill is merciless…!)

A 40-meter elevation change? That’s basically a mountain hike. And this course even has inclines that are tough just to walk. Combined with the turf quality, it brings back memories of running up mountain paths during summer training camp…

My breath was ragged. Just running was already sheer agony. —No, no, this won’t do. If I kept this up, Kayf Tara would overtake me. I had to pick up the pace. Why did Kayf Tara insist on maintaining her own pace? It was all calculated—for one final burst to blow past me in the end.

Stop her before that happens. You can do it. You can run faster. I knew how brutal this was—every muscle was screaming—but this was a flat 10,000-meter course. I knew full well my stamina could handle an all-out sprint here. So run. Throw yourself into the agony, Apollo Rainbow.

"Apollo Rainbow! One lap left! You got this!"

From behind the goalpost, Angely called out, sitting on a tree stump. Her voice gave me just enough of a boost to grit through the pain at the edge of my limits. Show weakness here and I’d be eaten alive—by Kayf Tara, by Angely, by all of them.

If my strongest self were a constant full-throttle sprint, then I couldn’t afford to ease up from the start line to the goal post. This wild front-runner style—my front-running—wasn’t just a tactic. It was pride.

My 1000-meter split—65.1 seconds. If I remembered right, the Gold Cup record was 4:16.9. If I maintained this pace, I’d be pushing close to record time. And if I could accelerate even more, I might even break into the 3-minute range.

I rounded the first and second corners. 2400 meters to go. Once I returned to the starting line, the gap between me and Kayf Tara had widened so much, she was no longer in sight. The forest didn’t help—trees narrowed my vision.

(—Still, she’ll come! Once I pass the 1500, maybe even the 1000-meter mark, she’s going to come at me with that insane long-range kick! Don’t let your guard down!)

The gap must’ve been 17 to 20 lengths now. It was such an extreme development, it barely felt like the same race. But I knew it—once we reached the goal post, it’d be a dead heat. It was so ridiculous, I couldn’t even think straight anymore.

As my thoughts slipped into detachment, I felt it. A strange twinge at the base of my thighs—near the hips. Fatigue as if wrapped in wet, heavy cotton. A tremble like a spasm, and then numbness. A little alarming.

I passed the midpoint of the backstretch—2000 meters left. I could see the third corner ahead, but Kayf Tara still wasn’t in view—wait, now she was. And she was fast. Already accelerating.

I was the type of uma musume who ran the full 4000 meters at full blast, a pure front-runner. But Kayf Tara? She was the type who blasted through the final 1000 to 2000 meters at a speed that made even front-runners look slow. In theory, I should be faster. But what I was seeing now—that acceleration—was clearly, unmistakably dangerous.

(Ggh...! 1600 meters left!! Faster!! Run faster!! That woman’s final sprint is so much faster than mine!!)

I didn’t know the exact numbers, but based on feel, I figured Kayf Tara’s final kick was about 1.1 times stronger than mine. If I were running at 70 kilometers per hour (43 mph), Kayf Tara would be closing in at 77 (47.8 mph).

If I reached 80 (49 mph), Kayf Tara would be hitting 88 (54.6 mph). Even with the massive lead I had now, I could feel her breathing down my neck, like no matter how fast I went, I’d be overtaken.

I had a premonition. An inevitable, nauseating sensation. A chill like recalling my humiliating loss in Dubai. Even if I had prepared countermeasures, none of it would matter—I’d be crushed by overwhelming, brute-force pressure, like a hydraulic press bearing down. Cold, mechanical, unstoppable.

My front-running had developed to the point it could rival a short-distance dash. And Kayf Tara was still able to hang on? That was the real absurdity. The only thing left was to meet her with everything I’d trained and fought for up until now.

Digging deep, I accelerated again—and as I did, the mental landscape of my “Unknown Domain Zone” began to expand. At the same time, Kayf Tara rounded the third corner, surrendering herself to a speed that defied logic. 1400 meters left. This was it—the final battle.

—A voice, from nowhere.

A bell-like tone. Firm, unwavering.

In an instant, a shiver. A cold jolt. From some 20 lengths behind, a majestic, mental radiance pierced my chest like a lance. Black miasma slithered forth, turning into steel chains that wrapped around my limbs and squeezed.

“—Apollo Rainbow. You hear me, don’t you?”

Like a spider hunting its prey, Kayf Tara closed in soundlessly. The dense forest canopy kept her mostly hidden from view. Only faint beams of light filtering through the dark mist suggested she was even there.

“You’re a dear rival and friend to me. That’s exactly why I won’t hold back. Even if this is just a mock race, meeting you at anything less than full strength would be an insult to you—!”

The world distorted. 1200 meters to go. Death itself had begun to move. The gap was now 18 lengths. Kayf Tara had fully activated her “Unknown Domain Zone” and was using it to lock me down. Refusing to yield, I leaned forward, my hooves striking the turf to blow away the shadow bearing down on me.

And then, just before I dipped under the 1000-meter mark—

The chains around my limbs turned into anchors and crushed my momentum.

“Gh—ah...! My legs... they won’t—move!?”

That’s when I finally realized. Kayf Tara’s “Unknown Domain Zone” had evolved—it now had the power to paralyze the uma musume ahead of her.

I’d already run 3000 meters, circling a track with a 40-meter elevation difference. Was that why? The moment I felt that pulling sensation, like something tugging at me from behind, my legs stopped turning altogether. The rattling sound of chains rang out loud and clear, as if to declare their presence.

So that was it. That time when Kayf Tara so easily dodged my own Jara Jara attack—it was because I had been slowed down by these bindings!

“Now you’ll learn—what the pride and resolve of a European stayer truly means, through pain and struggle!! Apollo Rainbow!!”

Before my heart could even react, Kayf Tara’s spirit had spread across the world. The golden lands of legend bloomed behind her, transforming the night into a divine racecourse. In that instant, the chains stretching from behind Kayf Tara latched onto my legs and completely halted my movement. My spirit and stamina were ripped away in chunks. The overwhelming discomfort in that moment scattered my focus like dust.

“Ugh—hhuu...—!”

My own “Unknown Domain Zone,” meant to counter Kayf Tara, was obliterated. At the 3200-meter mark, I was left gasping in pain. This was bad. Terrible. I couldn’t trigger my boost from the zone. I’d already lost a fraction of a second—who knew how far that delay would ripple through the rest of the race.

And this... this oppressive aura?

Was just the appetizer. The main dish—her true acceleration—was still to come.

“Burn this run into your soul!! Thiiis— is the run of the World’s! Strongest! Stayer!!”

――【Turn of a Century】

Just before the steep slope of the final corner, the European champion began her advance. A storm raged through the Chantilly Forest, and I felt a pressure against my back like a drill bearing down on me.

Her Unknown Domain Zone blew away every last trace of my fighting spirit, snatching away the inner landscape I had just begun to reshape. My emotions swayed violently. It was as if the very foundation of my spirit had been overturned.

—A sword. It feels like a blade is being pressed against me. I almost think, I don’t want to run, gripped by a wave of sheer revulsion. Slowly, as if licking at me, the bare steel drags along my neck.

The Unknown Domain Zone I’d barely managed to create through sheer force of will was obliterated. I gasped, coughing out a chunk of air. Somewhere, a scream rang out, and a strange tension wrapped around the track.

It was no surprise. I had… misfired. Overwhelmed by Kayf Tara’s sheer force of will, my Unknown Domain Zone had failed to ignite. The usual second kick didn’t explode. I just slipped backward, step by dragging step. Meanwhile, Kayf Tara accelerated without mercy.

And then—when we passed the 400-meter mark—

This time, the cheers truly turned into screams.

It was—an instant kill.

No time to draw even—just one—flash.

At the 1000-meter mark, 15 lengths.
At 800, 11.
At 600, 6.
At 400, just half a length.
And before we even reached the final 200 meters—she overtook me.

Our positions were completely reversed.

There wasn’t even a fierce battle to speak of. It was a one-sided slaughter.

Kayf Tara’s Unknown Domain Zone surged like a storm, overwhelming every living thing in the forest. Her mental landscape was so dense, so intense. An unshakable determination not to lose. Kayf Tara’s body and mind were at their absolute peak.

Long leads didn’t matter. Anyone who stood in her way was cut down. It was a wild, ferocious run that roared, I am the strongest stayer. Her conviction was backed by overwhelming spirit—and a harmony both sublime and terrible, spun by the gifts heaven had bestowed on her.

Right before the finish line. Right before my eyes, the strongest back was dancing in the air. She had wings.

I lost my words. I even forgot to breathe. I forgot this was supposed to be a mock race. I reached out toward that pitch-black brilliance of hers. In that moment, I had already forfeited the match.

Not—I want to catch up—
But—I want to become like that.

I had lost in every way. Physically. Emotionally. I was inferior in everything.

Before the mock race began, I had thought this:

If our abilities were truly equal, then the deciding factor would be experience, wouldn’t it?

—How naive. No, it wasn’t even close to naive—it was disqualifying as a competitor. This wasn’t about experience or logic. I had lost overwhelmingly in spirit. The Unknown Domain Zone is a final sprint spun from emotion. And I couldn’t even activate it. That alone proves Kayf Tara had crushed me with her heart.

But still—losing in spirit to a rival? That can’t be right. I had remembered the root of my dream, was burning with fighting spirit before the race. I had been more than ready.

So then, just how strong must this person’s conviction be, to drive her so far?

That thought drifted through my mind as the scattered cheers rose around me, and my mock race came to an end.

In the end, Kayf Tara finished five lengths ahead of me. And that was even after she eased up, judging the outcome was already decided. She simply coasted across the finish line. And even then—I couldn’t catch her.

I didn’t even have the luxury of feeling frustration anymore.

She was simply—strong. Kayf Tara’s condition could only be described that way. No weaknesses in sight. All I could do was hope for a mistake—but even that felt hopeless. I knew better than anyone that Kayf Tara was a horse girl who never gave anything less than her all.

This—this was like a natural disaster. What could I possibly do? What kind of countermeasure would even work? How could she leave my long-lead strategy in the dust? My strategy had finally been perfected thanks to the help of Bakushin-Oh and the others. It was supposed to be an invincible technique—beyond any counterplay. So why?

Only two weeks remain until the Gold Cup.

What—can I do in that short time?

I won’t meekly accept defeat. I still want to win the Gold Cup.

But—my body, my technique—have already reached near completion. Which also means that, as a horse girl—Uma  Musume named Apollo Rainbow—there’s little room left for dramatic growth.

No matter what—I’m—helpless.

Crushed by despair and powerlessness, I sank to my knees on the spot. My whole body heaving with breath as I slumped to the ground—and just then, Kayf Tara reached out to me without a shred of mercy.

“You alright, Apollo?”

Kayf Tara’s voice—so genuinely, deeply concerned. I reflexively lowered my head and bit down on my lip hard enough to tear it.

“...Yes, somehow.”

I couldn’t win like this. That truth was laid bare for me to see. And even as I clenched my hidden fist in the shadows with every ounce of strength I had—I kept killing the emotion that had nowhere to go.