Chapter 130: And Then, On to the Prix du Cadran

It’s been a while since I conquered the Lonsdale Cup.

Apparently, being at the top of your field comes with a special kind of value. Ever since I became the first horse girl in the world to complete the full Stayers’ Million challenge, the offers and job requests have come pouring in more than ever.

I couldn’t accept everything, of course—not with the Prix du Cadran coming up in a month and a half. Still, I did appear on news programs and variety shows, and even landed the cover of a well-established magazine. All in the name of boosting my popularity further—I really gave it my all.

...And now, I might’ve overdone it a bit. I didn’t hold back with the races or the media appearances, and now I’m running a little low on fuel. It’s not like I’m about to collapse or anything—the schedule isn’t that bad. But if I had to keep this up for two or three more years... even I might not last.

I won a hot spring trip in a New Year’s lottery, so lately, every time I see Tomio, I’ve been like a broken record:
“I want to go on a hot spring trip early next year.”
“Let’s go to the hot springs together.”
“hot springs” Over and over again.

Hot springs are supposed to be good for recovering from fatigue. They heal that deep, core-level tiredness that massages and sleep can’t reach. It’s not like I want to go on a trip alone with Tomio or anything. Don’t get the wrong idea.

And then, just the other day—I tried my usual routine again, saying, “You must be tired too, right?” expecting the usual deflection, but surprisingly, he caved right away. He seemed oddly serious about it.

“Alright. Let’s go on a hot spring trip at the start of next year.”

“Wait, really?”

“Of course.”

“Yes!”

“But first, let’s focus on the Prix du Cadran and the Arima Kinen. Once we’ve got those done, we can relax and recover at the hot springs, and then talk about what comes next.”

“Okaaay.”

To be honest, the “great escape” racing style isn’t exactly built for longevity. It feels like it’s wearing down my mind and career stamina pretty hard... but I think I can keep going for another year like this. No need to take things so seriously.

“Oh, by the way. Since you completely conquered the Stayers’ Million, it looks like you’ve got a high chance of winning a Cartier Award.”

“Really? For the Best Stayer category?”

“Exactly. Two G1 wins in long-distance races, and in record-breaking times, no less. Unless something unexpected happens, you’re a lock.”

“Whoa~”

I let out an involuntary dumb-sounding gasp. Now that he mentioned it, pretty much every reporter who came to interview me said I had a high chance of winning the Best Stayer award at the year-end Cartier Awards in Europe.

The award ceremony is in November, I think. If things keep going this way, El-chan and Guriko might win something too. But if it delays my return to Japan, that’d be a problem. A happy problem, I guess.

“Think I could win European Horse Girl of the Year too?”

“…Uhhhmmm... I dunno. If you’d won the Arc or the Champion Stakes, sure. But you’re not aiming for that route, right?”

“But I’m super cute and really popular, y’know?”

“Yeah… that’s not really a factor in the Cartier Award criteria.”

“Aww, come on...”

Even if European Horse Girl of the Year is off the table, locking in the Best Stayer award is still a big deal, right? Who knows, maybe I’ll even pull off a double win across two countries!

…Ah, but in Japan, my only domestic G1 win is the Tenno Sho (Spring). That might make it tough. If I win the Arima Kinen too, that’d make two domestic G1s, so there could be a shot...

“I wanna be Horse Girl of the Year in two countries at the same time~”

“…I’d love to see that too, but you debuted at a really rough time. Even just within Japan, there’s Silence Suzuka one year ahead, and in your own generation there’s Special Week, Grass Wonder, King Halo, Seiun Sky, El Condor Pasa, Happy Meek, Green Tea Turn... there’s too many stars.”

“Depending on how the Japanese selection criteria play out… nah, probably not.”

“Can’t say for sure. Yeah... no idea.”

“Well, first things first: the Prix du Cadran and the Arima Kinen.”

“Exactly.”

Looking at overseas performance, the European team—me, El-chan, and Guriko—and the American team—Meek-chan and Suzuka-san—are all doing crazy well. 

Meek-chan’s been dominating the dirt sprint to mid-distance circuit. Suzuka-san’s unbeaten in turf mile to mid-distance. I’ve heard that the names “Happy Meek” and “Silence Suzuka” are making waves across the ocean, in their own kind of fever.

Apparently, both of them are planning to enter the Arima Kinen after the Breeders’ Cup. Suzuka-san has powered up to the point where she can run up to about 2600 meters without losing performance—seriously scary. Meek-chan’s even tougher than me in terms of versatility and endurance, so she’ll probably show her strength there too.

But the Europe team isn’t falling behind. El-chan’s been casually sweeping France’s G1s, and now she’s only got the dream race—the Arc—left.

Guriko’s showing off her full strength in the short-distance to mile range, and she’s apparently set her sights on the Queen Elizabeth II Stakes (G1, 1600m). She’s the favorite in the early odds... which means Taiki-san and El-chan, who’ve beaten her before, must be insane.

Not that I’m falling behind either. Sure, I lost in Dubai, but in Europe I’m undefeated—four wins from four starts. Two G1 wins, a full Stayers’ Million sweep.

Recently, Guriko’s been talking big, saying “I could totally beat Apollo-chan even at Arima Kinen distance,” but right now, I’m seriously one of the strongest stayers in the world. No way I’m losing to a short-distance miler like her.

And it’s not just the international scene. The domestic races are looking wild too. In our generation’s first senior year, there’s Spe-chan, Grass-chan, King-chan, Sei-chan, Jara-chan, and the late-blooming powerhouse Tsurumaru Tsuyoshi-chan.

In the second senior year, you’ve got Fukukitaru-san and Mejiro Bright-san. In the classic class, there’s Opera O-chan, Ayabe-san, Top Road-san, and the recently resurgent Dotou-chan…

So yeah, as far as Arima Kinen contenders go:

From the second senior year: Silence Suzuka, Matikanefukukitaru, Mejiro Bright.
From the first senior year: Apollo Rainbow, Special Week, Grass Wonder, Seiun Sky, King Halo, El Condor Pasa, Jarajara, Happy Meek, Tsurumaru Tsuyoshi, and Green Tea Turn, sort of.
From the classic class: T.M. Opera O, Admire Vega, Narita Top Road.

Hmm. Yeah...

Is this the end of the world?

Hope or despair—it all depends. As I looked ahead to the Prix du Cadran and beyond to the Grand Prix, I wrapped up September and stepped into the first week of October.

“Only one week left until the Prix du Cadran... That was fast.”

“Yeah, unlike Japan, Europe doesn’t have a summer break season, so all the races get crammed together. But in return, Europe has a long off-season from October to March.”

As of the first week of October, both Kayf Tara-san’s comeback race, the G2 Doncaster Cup, and Angely-chan’s comeback, the G1 Irish St. Leger, had wrapped up.

Both of them won in dominating fashion. As expected of the long-distance Big Three, they completely outclassed the competition.

The early odds still had me as the favorite for the Prix du Cadran, but it was clear that the top three contenders were us. There was a big gap in popularity between us and the rest of the field.

I’ve got to live up to those expectations. So today, just like always, my trainer and I focused on stamina training.

—And that night, Kayf Tara-san from the room next door called me out, and before I knew it, we ended up taking a walk through the forest of Chantilly.

"We’ve been going out together like this more often lately, haven’t we?"

"Don’t make it sound weird. This just happened by chance."

"Oh come on. Ever since that mock race, you’ve been inviting me out more often, haven’t you?"

"...You mean the mock race I won?"

"Hmph... What’s with that attitude? In official races, I’m ahead two wins to one, you know~"

"If you include the mock race, we’re even—two wins each, right? Don’t get cocky."

"Eh—! That’s not fair!"

"If you’ve got complaints, we can go again anytime."

"Um, the real race is in a week, you know..."

Kayf Tara and I were out in the forest, both wearing jackets over our pajamas. Now that it was October, the autumn night air felt just a bit chilly. The sky was filled with stars, and even if I tried to resist, the atmosphere was enough to lift my spirits.

"...I suppose you’re right. Might as well save the fun for the real thing."

"Ugh, this muscle-headed horse girl..."

"You say something?"

In the same week as the Prix du Cadran, the Arc de Triomphe was also being held. This intense schedule of major races is known in Japan as the "Arc Week," but—this year, the long-distance scene was drawing so much attention, it could easily have been called "Cadran Week" instead.

Of course, it was the unity of all of us stayers that brought that attention. But Kayf Tara’s winner’s interview after the Doncaster Cup definitely played a big part in fanning the flames.

She had dominated the Doncaster Cup with an overwhelming lead, and in the winner’s circle, she declared:

—"My next race is the Prix du Cadran. Apollo, Angely, and all stayers... let’s fight once more to decide who’s truly the strongest.
But this isn’t just about who’s number one right now. We’re talking the strongest in history—the greatest of all time.
If you want your name to live on in history, if you want to become eternal... then throw everything you’ve got into the Cadran."

Kayf Tara had always been a bit of a loudmouth—brash and bold—but this time, her provocation was on another level.

She’d just pulled off a decisive victory in a graded race, and that interview was bound to draw eyes. The fact that she made such a bold proclamation in that moment made the Prix du Cadran even more of a must-watch event.

Answering her fiery call were not only the trio of long-distance stars who had already scheduled the Cadran as their next race, but also the fierce rivals from the Gold Cup—JJ the Jet Bicycle, Bustle Alsitso, Choco Fondue, Silent Joker, See You Later-chan, Switch-On, and many more.
It was a veritable "Grand Prix of Long Distance," packed with elite Uma Musume talent.

Already one of Europe’s top stayers, Kayf Tara had now fully stepped into the role of “Commander of Europe.” Coming off a landslide win, people started saying things like, “Kayf Tara really is Europe’s strongest stayer,” and “Maybe she can beat Apollo.”

It stung a little, sure—but from their perspective, I’m just a foreigner. Of course they’d root for the hometown girl.

"Still... sorry about the Lonsdale Cup."

"Hm?"

"I meant to compete in every leg of the Stayers’ Million, but I had to skip that one for personal reasons."

"Oh, don’t worry about it. If we’re playing that card, I skipped the Doncaster Cup—one of the legs of the British Stayers’ Triple Crown. So we’re even."

"...I also had to pull out of the Irish St. Leger. I owe Angely an apology too."

"...Wait, were you actually planning to enter all those races if your condition had been perfect?"

"Of course. My idea of ‘strongest’ is a little old-school, you know—earning it by pushing through a brutal rotation of races."

"Okay, but that’s seriously reckless."

Even if you wanted to go full iron-woman, that rotation is just absurd. First week of August: G1 Goodwood Cup.
Fourth week of August: G2 Lonsdale Cup.
Second week of September: G2 Doncaster Cup.
Third week: G1 Irish St. Leger.
Second week of October: G1 Prix du Cadran.

There’s no way anyone around her would approve of that. Racing back-to-back across the UK and Ireland like that? Even Oguri Cap would be stunned. Long-distance races wear you down more than anything. She should really be taking better care of herself. We both should.

I was about to point that out when I noticed Kayf Tara’s expression—intensely serious.

"...Right now, you’re without a doubt the strongest stayer in the world."

"Uh... thanks?"

"To stand on equal footing with you, I thought that was the best way—surviving that absurd race schedule, pushing beyond every limit, becoming a rising dragon, and defeating you as the culmination of that journey.
I wanted to overwrite the image everyone has of ‘Apollo Rainbow, the unbeatable stayer’... and make it mine."

"But if you did that, your body—"

"What’s the point in worrying about that? I’m not interested in some lame title like ‘Strongest of This Era.’
I’m here to become the strongest stayer in the world—no, in history. I’ll burn my life for it."

"..."

"Apollo... you feel it too, don’t you?
You only live once. If you want to shine brighter—leave a mark that lasts forever—there’s only one way."

"...I..."

The words I meant to say to stop her... just came back to hit me instead. To make our dreams come true, to chase eternity, we’ve run with everything we have—burning our lives to sprint forward, unafraid of the cost. That all-consuming intensity... it matched the very path I’ve followed through the Twinkle Series.

"I couldn’t carry out the plan of tearing through a mad race schedule just to challenge you... but if I managed to set all this in motion, that’s good enough.
I’m riding the momentum from Doncaster, and now—right here—I’ll blaze like a comet and throw everything I’ve got into defeating you."

A comet’s brilliance is fleeting. That light is born from the friction of tearing through the atmosphere at high speed.
In other words, a comet shines because it’s burning away its own existence.

Just like a horse girl. The faster we run, the closer the end draws near. Our speed is fueled by our very being—burning like fire, dazzling all who witness it.

Even though we know that fire won’t last forever—

Still, we wish.
We wish to become a light that lives on in memory, eternally.

A glaring contradiction. And yet, I can’t help but resonate with that way of thinking, almost to an annoying degree.

Everyone dove into the Twinkle Series with dreams of becoming the strongest. But sooner or later, most are forced to confront the towering wall in front of them. And through that, they learn how to run—and how to live—in a way that fits who they are.

Some Umamusume burn out before they ever become comets. Others vanish in their desperate attempt to become one.

—That’s why.

On this stage called G1.

In a race where the best of the best have gathered.

On a stage watched by the whole world—those of us who are allowed to run with reckless abandon—

Don’t we owe it to the world to run with our souls on fire?

Don’t we have to become comets?

That’s how it feels.

To be allowed to run in a race that will surely go down in both history and memory—we are incredibly fortunate.

So then, why not surrender ourselves to it completely? Why not burn out in this one battle? After all, there will never be another like it.

I find myself trapped in that emotion.

And I don’t think it’s wrong.

My trainer would probably scold me for saying this, but... I bet a lot of Uma Musume feel the same way.

I want to win. I always want to win—there’s no race I don’t want to win.

But among all those races… there are a few I absolutely can’t afford to lose. Races where I want to win more than anything. The Prix du Cadran is one of those races.

The Gold Cup was a must-win too, but this is the final long-distance race of the season—and the lineup is even stronger than the Gold Cup’s. So it’s like—of course I have to go all out, right?

As sparks silently fly between us, a cool breeze brushes past. She softens her expression just slightly, then sits down on a fallen tree and pats the spot beside her for me to join.

“…Once the Prix du Cadran ends, the season’s over. Even though I’ve only raced less than ten times this year… this is the first time a single season has felt so intense.”

“What’s with the sudden reflection?”

“Just… I suddenly remembered when we first met in Dubai. It felt like we’d fought a hundred times, but when I actually think about it… we haven’t raced that much, have we?”

“True. Even counting mock races, it’s only been five times. Oh! That reminds me—back in Dubai, Kayf Tara-san… you were so intense.”

“Hey… don’t bring that up. Everything I said and did back then is a black mark in my history, on so many levels.”

Kayf Tara-san chuckles, ears turning red as she gives my shoulder a playful jab. Her awkward smile is tinged with a warmth I’ve come to know well.

Compared to half a year ago, she laughs a lot more now. Thanks to Angely-chan’s bright energy, she even shows off some cute smiles these days. When I tried to upload a smiling photo of her to social media, she flipped out, but still—those moments show me that the emotional wall around her has come down.

Thinking back, she was really rough around the Dubai Gold Cup days.

If now is a grassy field, then back then was a desert. “A little prickly” doesn’t even come close.

“Did I ever tell you why I was such a mess back then?”

“Not really.”

“I have an older sister. She won the King George ages ago. The hype back then was unreal, and it left a huge impression on me as I prepared to enter the Twinkle Series. I’d always aimed to be a stayer, but the gap between that ideal and the harsh reality of long-distance races… it messed me up. Looking back now, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Kayf Tara-san’s sister is Opera House-san—I met her not long ago. A legendary Umamusume who won multiple G1s during her senior years, and apparently she knows T.M. Opera O-chan too.

Back on topic—since the system started categorizing Uma Musume by optimal race distance, it’s only natural that the long-distance scene began to decline. Transitioning from long-distance to mid-distance is easy, but going the other way—from middle to long—is much harder. Especially in Europe, where the max distance can stretch up to 4000 meters.

“…………”

“…………”

Our conversation drifts off, leaving silence in its place. After a moment, her golden eyes turn toward me.

“I love you, Apollo Rainbow.”

“…A sudden confession? Well, I like you too.”

“…I’m glad we talked before the Prix du Cadran.”

“…Me too.”

“Good night, Apollo. Let’s make the Prix du Cadran a race to remember.”

“Yes. Get ready—I won’t go easy.”

The dull cloudiness that once filled her eyes back in Dubai is completely gone. Now they shine like jewels, fixed squarely on me as I press my lips together.

…The final showdown in Europe is about to begin—the 4000-meter Prix du Cadran.