Chapter 3: The Selection Race—We Gotta Win, Right?

After losing the match race against Guri-ko, I bit back my frustration and cried myself to sleep. But now, the day had finally come—my chance to vent my pent-up anger: the Selection Race.

The gate numbers and order were announced the morning of the race. Guri-ko and I immediately headed to the bulletin board to check the posted lineup. But… there were too many people—I couldn’t see a thing! Being short is such a pain in situations like this.

"Apollo-chan, inner gate! You got the inner gate! This is awesome!"

"Huh, really?!"

"Why would I lie?!"

Apparently, I’d lucked out and drawn the inside position. Guri-ko snapped a photo of my horse phone (UmaHo) for me, and we quickly retreated from the crowd.

We made our way straight to the cafeteria. I ordered white rice, miso soup, and bacon and eggs before we plopped down at a random table.

"Not just any inner gate… the innermost gate. I must be on a roll."

"That’s not all! El Condor Pasa is running in the 1600-meter, and King Halo is sitting this one out for adjustments—she’s in the next 2000-meter instead. That means none of the top-tier horse girls are racing! Apollo-chan, you’ve got this in the bag~!"

Glass Wonder, whose name wasn’t on the list, had already won the previous mile-route Selection Race. Rumor had it she’d even secured a trainer. As for Seiun Sky… she was probably napping somewhere. Knowing her, she’d probably waltz into the last Selection Race out of nowhere and snag first place without breaking a sweat.

Still, just because the strong competitors were absent didn’t mean I could let my guard down. I’d lost to Guri-ko, after all. Even if my cornering was better, she’d overtaken me with raw speed.

I’d always thought my sprint was pretty fast… but when Guri-ko kicked into gear, she blew past me like it was nothing. Guess I’m not as quick as I thought. That realization stung—it was a real weak point. If all the other horse girls were weak, maybe I’d stand a chance…

"Oh, right! Apollo-chan, I’ve got some good news for you."

"Hm?"

"There aren’t any front-runners in this race, so you can go all out!"

"No front-runners?"

Hey, Guri-ko, how the hell do you even know that? It’s not like you’re some famous horse girl—gathering intel like that should be tough. Unless… is data-collecting your hobby or something?

Well, whatever. No front-runners was huge info.

"So… I can run freely, like in our match race?"

"Yep! Probably!"

Guri-ko puffed out her chest proudly. Damn, she’s cute. And reliable as hell.

…No front-runners, huh? Not sure if that’s good or bad, but if I can race like last time, it might not be so bad. The real question is whether to keep the pace slow or push it hard.

"Honestly? With this lineup, there’s no way you’ll lose. Even if you screw up, you’ll still make top three for sure."

As I shoveled a tower of rice into my mouth, Guri-ko suddenly blurted that out in a dead-serious tone. Huh? What’s this? She’s praising me like crazy—I’m thrilled!

"But—whether that’ll get you scouted is a whole other story."

"……??"

She sounds like she’s complimenting me, but it feels like there’s something else she wants to say. Too bad I’m no genius—I don’t get what Guri-ko’s hinting at. If I win the Selection Race—or even just place high—won’t a trainer scout me? Isn’t that how it works?

"Okay, this might piss you off, but… you’re the favorite to win. And that’s kinda bad news."

"How’s that bad?"

I swallowed my rice and asked, and Guri-ko suddenly grew fidgety, glancing around before leaning across the table toward me.

Whoa—now that she’s leaning in, it’s obvious how—big she—wait, no. What? She wants me to listen closely?

I mirrored her, leaning over the table too. Guri-ko’s face had never been this close before—

Holy shit, Guri-ko, you’re ridiculously good-looking!

Her lashes are so long! And her skin’s glow is unreal. Those wide, sparkling emerald eyes could suck a person in. How is there no buzz about "Guri-ko being a beauty"? The horse-girl world is insane.

…A-anyway, what was she trying to say?

I’d recently learned how to move my horse ears, so I exaggeratedly swiveled them toward her. Guri-ko averted her eyes and muttered under her breath.

"……It means the other racers are way weaker than you."

"Huh? We’ve only been here a month—there shouldn’t be that big a gap. Or is it really that bad? Did a bunch of weak girls just end up in the same race by chance?"

"…………"

Even if weaker girls had coincidentally gathered, I didn’t see the problem. If anything, why was Guri-ko so worried? Winning means getting scouted, right?

Maybe because I still looked clueless, Guri-ko’s expression turned even more serious.

"Listen, Apollo-chan. Yeah, almost everyone who’s won a Selection Race got scouted. But… there was one girl a long time ago who won and still didn’t get picked up."

"……What?"

My brain short-circuited at Guri-ko’s words. No way… You’re telling me even winning might not be enough? After all the effort I’ve put into getting noticed by a trainer…

Does this mean… no matter how well I do in this race—I might not get scouted at all?!

"W-Wait, hold on! You’re joking, right?!"

I grabbed Guriko’s cheeks with both hands, demanding an explanation. The other horse girls in the cafeteria glanced our way, but they quickly went back to their meals.

"N-No, it’s not a joke. There was one time… the race was seen as too low-level, and even the winner didn’t get scouted."

"W-When did that happen…?"

"Over 20 years ago. But, like, I’m sure Apollo-chan isn’t that weak, and any decent trainer would scout you, so… it’s probably nothing to worry about. Just thought I’d warn you, y’know?"

Guriko settled back into her seat, and I slumped down into mine, tension draining from my body.

She said if I did well, a trainer would notice me. But… what if no one scouted me?

If that happened, I’d have to face King Halo or Seiun Sky next—two opponents I couldn’t beat as I was now. In other words, if I blew this Selection Race, I was screwed.

…This is just paranoia, right? If I win, I’ll get scouted, right? If I give it my all, it’ll work out… right?

With that tiny seed of doubt planted, the Selection Race finally began.

A triumphant fanfare cut through the pleasant spring air, soaring high above us. The majestic music was more than enough to ignite the fighting spirit of us horse girls.

"And now, it’s time for the 2000-meter Selection Race! The future stars of the turf are now entering the gates!"

Turf, 2000 meters. Firm ground. Tracen Academy’s First Course.The Selection Race, with a full gate of 18 runners, was about to begin under the midday spring sun.

"Gate 1, Number 1—the race favorite, Apollo Rainbow, is now approaching the gate!""She’s my personal pick. I’m excited to see what kind of race she’ll deliver!"

The Selection Race was an internal Tracen event, but thanks to Chairwoman Akikawa’s insistence on giving it the atmosphere of a real race, they’d even brought in professional commentators. There was even a full orchestra playing the fanfare—an actual, legit one, part of the academy staff.

"…Haaah. It’s fine. It’ll work out. At least one trainer’s gotta be watching…"

Wearing my track uniform, I adjusted my bib and stood before the gate. My bangs were already messy, but—I checked them anyway, smoothing down my bob cut with my palm. A silly habit, maybe, but I wanted to look my best for the trainer who’d discover me today.

Beyond the outer rail, Guri-ko and a crowd of other horse girls watched. Our eyes met, so I winked—she just sighed and shrugged. …Hm? She’s gesturing something. "Focus," probably. Yeah, yeah, I know.

But thanks, Guri-ko. Losing to you lit a fire in me. Made me hate the idea of losing to anyone. If I’d won our match race, I’d have gotten cocky, slacked off. Even now, remembering it makes my chest burn—but I’m grateful.

I prepared for today, Guri-ko. Get ready to witness the run of your future rival, Apollo Rainbow! I clenched my fist and strode toward the gate. Guri-ko facepalmed.

At the edge of my vision stood legends like Symboli Rudolf and Maruzensky. The crowd around them was thinner, as if repelled by some invisible aura. (Though honestly, Maru-chan didn’t feel that intimidating.)

"Oh—"

Maru-chan noticed me and waved. I gave a quick nod, sharpening my focus. Rudolf and Maruzensky were whispering while looking my way, but as my concentration deepened, their presence faded.

This was a big deal, after all. If Student Council President Symboli Rudolf herself was here to watch… well, that said it all.

It’s practically unheard of for a trainer not to scout someone. I mean, there are so many trainers around, clinging to the fences like barnacles. But if every single one of them—easily over a hundred—passed me by, my spirit would definitely break.

Once I settled into the gate, everything else faded away. With this insane level of focus, I must’ve fully become an Uma Musume now, I thought. Before I knew it, I was recalling the instincts of an Uma Musume when it comes to racing. The moment my competitive drive to win flared up, it took no time at all for me to reach this state of abnormal concentration.

"All Uma Musume have entered the gates. The race is about to begin."

After some hesitation and reluctance, all eighteen Uma Musume finally made it into the gates. With the announcer’s final words, the entire track fell into silence.

"————"

The air around me crackled with tension. The sheer desire to win radiating from the other Uma Musume was overwhelming. But I wanted victory more than anyone else. After all, I had two dreams—to become the strongest stayer and to dazzle a male trainer. That meant my determination was twice as strong.

At the center of my vision was the closed gate and the turf beyond it. Why wasn’t it opening yet? Come on, come on. A flicker of irritation rose in me. So this was what they meant by struggling with the gates.

"——Huuuuuh."

With an Uma Musume’s hearing, no sound escaped me. I lowered my hips, drawing in air through slightly parted lips. Holding my breath, the instant I caught the faintest sound of the gate opening—I rocketed off the line.

"—And they're off! Oh, a few stumbled out of the gate! It’s a messy start!""Well, it is their first race. Hard to blame them under this much pressure."

Kicking off the ground, I accelerated to top speed in an instant.

"Taking the lead is Apollo Rainbow! What an incredible start—she’s already pulling far ahead!""She might be pushing a little too hard. Hopefully, she can regain her composure."

The commentators were saying something, but I was just a dumb horse girl whose only redeeming quality was stamina.

I’d let my endurance do the talking, bolt ahead, and shut the competition up! How’s that for a Mejiro Palmer-level runaway?! Hah! If I win like this, the trainers have to notice me!!

"Oh my—! Rounding the second corner into the backstretch, Apollo Rainbow has opened up a six-length lead on second place!""Is this a runaway strategy? Quite the bold move for a selection race—but then again, she is my top pick for a reason."

Full sprint except on turns—and even then, 80% full throttle, widening the gap. My racing mind, burning white-hot, ignored pace and strain, screaming just one command: "Run like you’ll die if you don’t."

Ah, this feeling. This rush. Riding this high—I was tearing ahead of everyone. I wouldn’t let anyone take first. Faster, faster—I wanted to run even more!!

"They’ve passed the first 1000 meters—and the time is an unbelievable 58 seconds! An insane pace for a junior-level race!""But she won’t have any stamina left for the second half. Nerves must’ve made her overextend."

Past the third corner, into the fourth. My one-of-a-kind stamina showed no signs of running dry. Glancing back, the others were struggling on the turns like Guri-ko did back then. They weren’t even a threat.

I cleared the final corner and surged into a solo lead.

"Th-they’ve passed the 400-meter mark—and Apollo Rainbow still leads! Is her stamina endless?! She’s still holding strong out front!!""I’m stunned. To maintain a runaway at this pace and stay ahead through the final corner—I never expected her to have this much stamina and grit."

My lungs burned like they were about to tear apart, my throat parched and sour. Yet, no thunderous footsteps—like Guri-ko’s—closed in from behind.

By the final stretch, I had no room to glance back. I knew I had stamina and grit, but exhaustion was exhaustion, agony was agony. This was death incarnate. My throat was desert-dry, my tongue shriveled to its root.

It hurt. It sucked. I wanted it to end.

But still—I’d seize my first victory.

This was the first step toward my dream!!

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

"200 meters left! The pack’s still far behind! Is this in the bag?!"

Like I was leaping. Like I was loving it.

I—without a doubt—crossed the finish line in first.

"A-and the winner is! As for the time—oh? 2 minutes, 7 seconds. A bit slow for firm ground, isn’t it?""Apollo Rainbow must’ve slowed without realizing. Between the full gate and her runaway strategy, the others couldn’t read the pace or timing—most held back too much for their final sprint. We’ll check the closing splits later."

"Uh… huh? That time’s awful slow… Ahaha…"

Slowing to a wobble, I braced against the fence and dry-heaved. Pathetic, but I couldn’t even fake composure. I’m actually dying. Fun, but hell no to doing this repeatedly. Sorry, game-me—I made you race three times back-to-back… I repent.

For a while, the stands buzzed with murmurs—until, suddenly, a roar of cheers erupted.

Meanwhile, I was hunched over like a salaryman puking on a telephone pole. Jerking my head up, I followed the crowd’s gaze to the tote board, where my name flashed in first place beside the "OFFICIAL" lamp.

Oh. That’s why. Guess even selection races get hype. The seniors feeling nostalgic, my classmates rooting for friends, trainers analyzing our strides—all of it mashed into this noise.

…Wait, should I do a victory thing? Didn’t plan that. …Maybe just a hand raise? Casual-like.

Walking toward the homestretch, I lifted a feeble hand. The cheers swelled, and in that haze of exhaustion, I drowned in pure euphoria.