Chapter 119: When This Night Breaks

With the Gold Cup drawing closer, my DMs were blowing up with messages.

Messages of support were flooding in from across the world—in Japanese, English, French, German, and more—and they piled up faster than I could keep up with while eating breakfast or brushing my teeth. Big races always brought in a surge of well-wishes, but this time, since it was an international event, the volume was on another level.

Right now, I'm replying to them bit by bit in my spare moments, but at some point, it might get too overwhelming. It’s super peaceful—barely any trolls or haters—but knowing I might not be able to keep up forever, I’ve been thinking about letting my agent or trainer take over managing my UmaStar official account...

Today, Guriko, fresh off her win at the Yasuda Kinen, was arriving here at Chantilly’s training center. The room that El-chan and I share has three beds, so the extra bed and desk were finally going to be put to proper use.

They had turned into a dumping ground for that carrot-filled cardboard box that arrived recently and El-chan’s luggage, but I made sure to tidy everything up and clean the area in advance.

I finished cleaning early in the morning and turned on the TV, just in time to catch a live broadcast with the headline “Green Titan Arrives in France!” The scene was at the airport nearest to Chantilly. Fans and press had gathered, waiting for Guriko to arrive.

To me, Guriko is just a laid-back friend, so I tend to forget—she’s a full-fledged G1-level Uma Musume. I mean, she’s beaten Taiki-san and Pearl-san, and even back in her Classic class days, she won two mixed G1 races that included Senior-class competitors.

(And winning the Hong Kong Sprint? That’s said to be on par with the Arc in difficulty—pulling that off as a Classic-class horse? That's insane.) She's a lightning-fast Uma Musume with a monster of a record.

Her major G1 wins are the Hanshin Juvenile Fillies, Oka Sho, Sprinters Stakes, Yasuda Kinen, Al Quoz Sprint, and Hong Kong Sprint... That’s six G1s already. What the heck? That's nuts. She’s got two more G1 wins than me—kind of irritating, honestly...

Incidentally, the one among my generation with the most G1 wins is none other than Happy Meek-sama. She started this year by winning the Dubai World Cup and has been dominating the American Senior-class dirt track circuit ever since.

She’s up to eight G1 wins in total. Her main victories include the Zen-Nippon Junior Yushun, Shuka Sho, Oaks, Japan Dirt Derby, JBC Ladies’ Classic, Dubai World Cup, Hollywood Gold Cup Stakes, and the Metropolitan Handicap... And it’s only spring of her first year in the Senior class? What kind of joke is that? She’s so insanely strong that in our usual group chat, we’ve started half-jokingly using honorifics when talking to her.

But back to the topic—Guriko, Japan’s speedster Uma Musume representative, was greeted by enthusiastic fans and media the moment she landed. The coverage spanned multiple TV channels, and El-chan and I watched as Guriko tried to speak broken English, which made us smile. That contrast between her cute demeanor and her career record is just too good.

She still seems completely lost when it comes to studying English and everything else, but somehow, something about her felt different. Back when she was still in the Classic class—especially after her win in the Hong Kong Sprint—I started sensing this aura of pressure and intensity around her.

But now, after winning both the Al Quoz Sprint in Dubai and the Yasuda Kinen, it seems like she’s developed a stronger sense of resolve and awareness. The fact that she matured mentally around the same time I did... must be some kind of roommate bond.

"Guriko-chan's gotten really calm all of a sudden, hasn’t she? She’s got this grounded, steady vibe now," El-chan commented.

"Same goes for you, El-chan. Ever since you won the Prix d’Ispahan... you’ve changed too, you know?"

"Really? I feel like Apollo-chan’s changed more than I have..."

"Ah, look—Guriko gave up and left the translating to her trainer."

"...She really didn’t have to force herself from the beginning."

Guriko, who now had a bit of a ‘cool factor’ going on, occasionally winked at overseas fans as she answered questions. They asked things like: What’s your big goal during your stay? Who do you want to race against? Any message for your fans?

Her main target is the G1 mile race in October—The Queen Elizabeth II Stakes. Before that, she’ll be racing in several short-distance G1s. Every time she winked, fans screamed in real-deal, overseas-style shrieks. It was fun to watch, but I kind of wished she’d stop killing off the die-hard stans with her gaze.

Once Guriko left in a taxi, seen off by the media, footage of her past races began to play. Her sparkling achievements were narrated over the broadcast, and the news program started to feel more like a documentary we’d all seen somewhere before.

We waited for her arrival, chatting things like, “She’ll be here in a few more hours?” “Once Guriko’s here, that’ll be the end of the European sprint season,” and “America’s already being torn up by Suzuka-san and Meek-sama…”

Two hours after she disappeared from the live broadcast, Guriko showed up at our room, accompanied by Alefrance-san. Even though it had been a while since we last saw each other, once we were face-to-face, we didn’t know what to say, so we just exchanged a few quick greetings.

"Guriko, long time no see."

"Apollo-chan! El-chan! It’s been ages!"

"Glad to see you’re doing well, desu!"

"How’s life in Chantilly? You getting used to it by now?"

"The food’s... well, let’s just say it doesn’t compare to Japan’s!"

"Wait—don’t say that in front of Alefrance-san! That’s bad manners, desu!"

"Don’t mind me~"

“Hyup.”

“Ke.”

"Eh? What did Alfrance-san just say?"

After that, we spent the morning helping Guriko unpack and catching up with each other over small talk and updates.

But there wasn’t much time left before the Gold Cup. We’d be heading to the UK soon, so as happy as I was to see Guriko again, a part of me felt a little lonely knowing we didn’t have time to relax together.

Ten days before the Gold Cup, after finishing final training in France with Guriko and El-chan, I boarded a flight to England to prepare for the race in the fourth week of June.

The Gold Cup is held at Ascot Racecourse, located in Berkshire, about 40 kilometers west of London. After landing at the airport, it was a few hours by train and a 10-minute walk from the station to get there... but to be honest, that probably doesn’t give you a clear picture. I don’t really get it either.

Between the York Cup and the Gold Cup, all this traveling has made it harder to get a feel for the land. The only place abroad I’ve gotten used to is Chantilly.

Ascot Racecourse itself apparently began centuries ago when a queen, who was a huge Uma Musume fan, stumbled across a vast hill in the area and thought, “This is the perfect place for Uma Musume to sprint full throttle,” and ordered the construction of the racecourse right then and there.

...I don’t think it actually went down that casually, but that’s how Lumos-san tells it, so let’s just go with that.

Seeing Ascot in person, the grandstands rising from the vast green fields and the wide track left me breathless. The undulations of the course span 20 meters—my first time racing on a course with double-digit elevation changes. It was nothing like any of the tracks I’d run on before.

Coming all the way from Japan, I could feel the weight of history and tradition looming before me. I had trained on that special course in the Chantilly forest, sure—but Ascot’s layout is so unique that it feels like starting from scratch. And that’s the hard part.

Tomio had given me 3D data of the Ascot Racecourse, and I'd run through mental simulations using it countless times. But once you’re actually on the track, the scenery changes completely. After finishing the course inspection, I ran across the turf to get a feel for the grass and elevation shifts.

…It’s hard to describe in simple words, but compared to the York Racecourse or tracks in Japan, it felt like this one would be brutally draining on stamina. The 20-meter elevation change is already a monster, and the heaviness of the turf adds another layer of trouble. The grass here is thicker than York’s, and the ups and downs are steeper—just running through it wraps your legs in a different kind of exhaustion.

European racetracks are often carved right out of nature, so they tend to be wild and unpredictable. That’s why stamina is more important than speed, and we Japanese Uma Musume tend to struggle with that difference.

El-chan and Taiki-san, who’ve both won G1 races in Europe, are Uma Musume with high dirt aptitude. According to them, it’s better to approach European turf with the mindset you’d have on a dirt track—or more precisely, you have to accept that European turf is a completely different beast from Japan’s.

“The long-term forecast says race day’s weather looks iffy.”

“…We’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“Good turf or muddy, what we need to do doesn’t change. But the way it’s looking now, rain’s basically guaranteed.”

I gazed out at nighttime Ascot from the hotel window. The sky above the city lights was cloaked in a thick, heavy churn. According to the forecast, there's a 100% chance of rain on the day of the Gold Cup. The turf will definitely be, at best, soft—maybe worse.

Ever since we arrived, the smell of rain’s been in the air. More than just the numbers, that scent tells me something dark and heavy is on its way.

If the track gets muddy, the race will likely unfold just like Tomio predicted. But I’ve been in Europe for less than two months—my experience training on soggy European turf is sorely lacking. You barely even see muddy tracks worse than “heavy”; they only happen during or right after a downpour. At that level, the ground’s basically like a rice field—dangerous. Most people just train indoors instead.

Besides, France doesn’t get that much rain in general. Japan’s just overly rainy in comparison, but even so, a torrential downpour—the kind where it feels like a bucket’s being dumped on your head—is rare here.

So, all my training in Chantilly has only been for conditions up to “heavy.” I’ve got way less experience with bad turf compared to European-born girls like Angely-chan or Kayf Tara-san. That much is obvious.

Still, I’m not planning to lose. It’s just that, relatively speaking, I’m less confident. Even if the track turns to mud, I’ve got enough stamina to finish at record pace. …If something does give out, it’ll probably be my legs. The real fear isn’t the stamina—it’s the injuries waiting at the limits of speed. If I go full sprint and just slip, I might never be able to run again from the trauma.

Waterlogged turf and ground bring more than just slower speed—they bring danger. The combination of water droplets and blades of grass makes for some serious slip risk, and when you’re talking speeds over 70 kilometers an hour… well, you can imagine.

Every step you plant carries a risk big enough to be fatal. If you fall at full natural speed, what lies ahead might very well be death. Compared to a good turf day, you just can’t help but pull back. You have to run just shy of your limit—at a pace where safety and competitive drive stay balanced.

—Can I overcome that fear and go full throttle? Even if I come in second or lower because I ran safely, I doubt Tomio would scold me.

—But. As far as I know, Kayf Tara-san’s determination is nothing short of ferocious. Angely-chan’s fighting spirit is straight-up unhinged. More than anything, they expect me to give it my all. Tomio does. Lumos-san does. The fans do. The URA staff do. Everyone’s hoping we’ll deliver a transcendental sprint that breaks through the fear.

The Gold Cup will be held next year too, and I could wait to achieve full Stayers’ Million victory then—but that’s not the point. No one knows if a race with Kayf Tara-san and Angely-chan will even happen next year. They might retire. They might be out on injury.

Even if they’re still around, if we want to revitalize the European long-distance scene, this year’s Gold Cup is our one shot to spark it. If I go out there playing it safe, people are going to say, “Oh, that’s it?” or “Kind of normal, huh?” That kind of cold, honest evaluation will kill all future interest in the sport. It’s that simple.

Fans are cruel in a way—they come for what they want to see. No matter how hard we work behind the scenes, if the final product bores them, they’ll just move on.

There’s a lot of other entertainment out there. Sure, you can stir up some buzz with media and the internet, but to get something to really explode—you’ve got to make the fans take it seriously. You need something powerful enough to hook them for real.

If we want this to be more than just a fleeting trend—something that lasts ten, fifty years, something that becomes part of people’s lives—then I can’t afford to underperform at the Gold Cup.

That’s why I need to give them something clear and simple to latch onto. A mud-covered, all-out runaway victory by a foreign Uma Musume—isn’t that incredibly easy to understand? I’ve got a white coat and ash-grey hair. The mud will stand out even more. With drama like that, we could catch the attention of casual viewers too.

And so, I have to weigh that calculated appeal against safety.

—But I already know which way I’m leaning.

I understand the risks. I know my family and trainer are worried about my body. But I can’t turn away from the burning dream in this moment. Racing is dangerous by nature. Getting scared now would be laughable. For my sake—and for everyone else’s—I’m going to smash the brakes in my heart.

Rain or snow, I’ll run with everything I’ve got. For my dream, for that vision I long for—I’ll keep running. I swore that, deep in my heart.

“Are you scared, Tomio?”

“Of what?”

"What do you mean? The Gold Cup, of course."

"Of course I’m scared."

"Why?"

"...Something I’ve always dreamed about is finally about to happen. That strange feeling when your dreams become real—I still can't get used to it. It was the same for the Derby and the Kikuka-shō, but an overseas G1 just hits differently..."

"……"

"And this time, the attention is off the charts. I should be used to it by now, but seeing how fired up URA Europe is over here... it's making me nervous too. Kinda ridiculous, the trainer being more nervous than his Uma Musume..."

"No, it's okay. I get it. Honestly, I don’t even feel like this is real... It all feels kind of floaty."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I’ll flip the switch during tomorrow’s interview."

"That's reassuring."

"Who do you think I am?"

"Apollo Rainbow."

"Correct~"

"My Uma Musume."

"Hehe."

"What even is this back-and-forth?"

"Who knows?"

"...Alright, enough chatting. Time for bed. From today until the Gold Cup, it’s strict early nights for you."

"Fiiine."

I’d already taken a bath, so I obediently lay down on the bed. Seeing that, Tomio said, “Goodnight,” then turned off the lights and started to leave the room. I reached out and tugged his sleeve, whispering, “Just stay with me a little longer.”

In the darkness, Tomio smiled. “You haven’t changed,” he murmured. I wanted to seem strong, of course I did—but I couldn’t deny the small, lingering fear. I squeezed his hand tight, silently asking him to stay with me until I fell asleep.

He said yes.

The bed creaked slightly as he sat down, and then a large hand gently rested on my head. He followed the flow of my hair, stroking it gently. I let out a soft breath before I could stop myself. Hearing it, his touch grew even more tender. As my mind began drifting into sleep, his quiet voice began to speak.

"...That's right... You’re a star Uma Musume with fans all over the world—but deep down, you’re still just a kid, huh..."

"……"

"If it’s what you want, I’ll do anything. As your partner."

"...Thank you."

"I can’t run on the turf myself... so this is the least I can do."

Tomio’s hand stroked my hair, gently brushing over my horse ears. My breathing deepened, drowsiness pulling at me stronger and stronger. And just before sleep claimed me, I let out the one thing still weighing on my heart.

"...The Gold Cup… the track’s probably going to be heavy or even sloppy, right?"

"Yeah, most likely."

"If I go all out... will my legs be okay?"

"You’ll be fine. It won’t go the way you’re imagining… Hey, we made it through that Kikuka-shō, didn’t we? Everything you’ve been through up to now will protect you."

When Tomio said that, the vague unease inside me began to melt away. His hand stroked my head, his fingers brushed my cheek, and all my senses filled with a soft, warm light.

...I’m sorry. Thank you, Trainer. Just for tonight, I needed you to hold me through this weakness. I needed just a few words to push me forward.

Once this night ends, I’ll change. I’ll become the strongest stayer everyone’s been waiting for.

But... only in front of you—

Now and forever—

Let me stay just a normal girl.

The die has been cast.

Her awareness as the strongest stayer has solidified, and in response, a new “end” begins to reveal itself.

The end draws near.

And with it, the beginning.

The fateful Gold Cup, where three champions will collide, is about to begin.