Chapter 35: Unstoppable Girl

Hanshin Racecourse, 10th Race: Wakaba Stakes.

Temperature: 20°C (32°F) 

weather: clear with not a cloud in sight. The track condition is listed as "firm." As initially planned, the race will proceed with a full gate of 16 runners.

Just as we finished our preparations, the distant sound of fanfare echoed across the grounds. The familiar, traditional melody filled my head, sending a jolt of tension straightening my spine.

"Above the Hanshin Racecourse stretches a cloudless blue sky. The weather is clear, and the track is firm."

"A refreshing day befitting the name 'Wakaba Stakes'—like the sprouting of new leaves, wouldn’t you say?"

I tapped my toes against the turf, then rolled my ankles firmly from that point. No discomfort in my legs—everything felt smooth. To avoid a repeat of the Wakagoma Stakes, we had long since moved past Spartan-level training. Though the intensity was still somewhat high, there was no way I’d make the same mistake again.

Watching the other horse girls slowly settling into their gates at the edges of my vision, I stepped forward into mine.

"Gate 1, Number 2—Apollo Rainbow. She’s in position."

"All eyes are on her as the top favorite!"

Once inside the gate, my focus sharpened unnaturally. The fierce battles of the Yayoi Sho and the Kinko Sho flashed through my mind. That burning intensity seared my skin. My heart pounded at the presence of my rivals in the gates.

"All gates are closed—the race is ready to begin. Here comes the start!"

I wanted to burst out of the gate right away. Suppressing my impatience, I waited for the moment of release. The rustling sound of wind sweeping through the grass reached my ears—a clean, crisp noise. But the instant a sharp metallic clang mixed into that sound, I had to commit to my start. Sight and hearing—I couldn’t afford to loosen the thread of tension until the very moment the race began.

…Except this time, the wait was unnervingly long. Just as my focus wavered, wondering how many seconds they’d make us hold—CLANG!—the gates flew open.

"AND THEY’RE OFF! A massive leap from the top favorite, Apollo Rainbow! She’s already pulling ahead!"

My reaction was barely on time, but I managed my usual rocket start. This race’s composition: one front-runner (me), three stalkers, five pace-pressers, six closers, and one deep closer. The ones to watch? Well, aside from me—Apollo Rainbow, the lone front-runner—it was the closers Biwatakehide and Green Presence, along with the sole deep closer, Destineyto.

This time, regardless of my front-running strategy, the presence of three stalkers meant a fast pace was inevitable. Not that I had any intention of slowing down, but high-speed races favored late chargers. Those three, waiting to unleash their final sprints from the back, were the real threats.

I tore down the track at 80% full speed, rounding the first corner right after the start. Then, in the edges of my vision, I spotted three shadows desperately chasing me—this race’s stalkers: Dispatcher, Summer Bonfire, and Reflector. So, they were coming for me right from the start, huh?

"Approaching the midpoint of the second corner—Apollo Rainbow leads by a length over second-place Dispatcher, the 7th favorite!"

"Looks like we’re in for a fast-paced race. Then again, Apollo Rainbow’s races are never slow—this is becoming a familiar sight."

Glancing back as I rounded the second corner, I saw the rest of the pack still trailing only about five lengths behind, despite my blistering speed. Were they getting dragged along by the three stalkers chasing me, or was the entire field gunning for me? Probably the former.

The three stalkers in this race were all the type who "couldn’t perform unless they took the lead." They were willing to burn their stamina and legs just to break me. Hugging the inside rail, I felt them stretching desperately to overtake me from the outside.

But… if you wanna catch me, you’d better come at me as hard as Suzu-chan did back then!

The instant I hit the straight, I shifted into full gear, blasting forward at top speed. The stalkers fell away as I widened the gap with every stride.

"Whoa! Apollo Rainbow accelerates on the back straight! Is this a repeat of Silence Suzuka’s Kinko Sho performance?!"

"The stalkers try to give chase, but only Dispatcher holds on—Summer Bonfire and Reflector in 3rd and 4th seem to have given up, resetting their pace as if the leaders don’t exist!"

About 1100 meters left. From here, I’d launch an ultra-long sprint, pushing my limits. Then, I’d crush every rival who dared challenge me in a true battle of wills.

Come on—TRY AND KEEP UP!

"HAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

I tore through the homestretch and into the third corner. Dispatcher clung stubbornly, closing to within two or three lengths before swinging wide for an all-or-nothing pass—but she hit her limit right there.

At the exit of the third corner, Dispatcher’s upper body jerked upright as she slowed. Her face was drenched in sweat, deathly pale. Clear signs of stamina depletion. She was swallowed by the pack, vanishing from sight.

"OH! Dispatcher, who challenged Apollo Rainbow for the lead, has collapsed!! She’s bleeding speed, struggling badly!!"

"That’s not injury—just exhaustion. The 1000-meter split was 58.5, just 0.4 seconds off Silence Suzuka’s pace. For a miler like Dispatcher, this race was simply too much."

"Can anyone catch Apollo Rainbow after this brutal pace?! We’re entering the final stretch!!"

"Apollo Rainbow looks ready to accelerate even further. If she maintains this speed, the rest stand no chance!"

Fourteen pairs of eyes—everyone except the crushed dispatcher—stare at me as if they're seeing a monster. I’ve run the first thousand meters without a single breath. Is that shock because they realize this is just the beginning? Doesn’t matter. I walk my own path.

I shift into an even higher gear going into the third corner. If Special Week and King Halo’s top speed is a ten, then my flat-out sprint barely reaches an eight or nine. And because I still struggle with the 2000 to 2400 meter range, right now, my true top speed is closer to a seven or eight.

I may not match their pure speed or explosive power—but if I can hold a steady seven or eight for a long stretch of turf, then no one will be able to catch me. That’s the kind of run I’m going for.

Of course, going all out for that long comes with its own pain. I can’t moisten my parched mouth mid-sprint. My dry tongue thrashes around uncomfortably, completely in the way, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Even when I try to swallow the nonexistent saliva in my mouth, all I get is withered oxygen scraping down my throat, spreading a sour, unpleasant taste deep inside.

Halfway through the third and fourth corners, I tear through the “false straight”—a deceptively straight stretch where minor scuffles for positioning often break out.

“They're entering the midway point between corners three and four! The lead group suddenly surges forward to catch up with Apollo Rainbow! What do you make of this?”

“It’s a group instinct kicking in—they won’t let Apollo Rainbow run free any longer. If they don’t catch her here, she’ll slip away for good. It’s the right move.”

Maybe they see this stretch as the turning point. Two front-runners and five close chasers begin pushing forward, using their finishing kicks to claw their way up. All I can do is silence them with my seemingly endless sprint. I refocus, thrashing against the urge to stop, forcing myself to keep going even as my breathing falters.

In the compressed mental time of a race—when a sprint feels like it stretches for hours—what happens if someone keeps showing you their back? What if, no matter how hard you chase, the distance never closes? The answer’s simple. Before their stamina runs out… their will snaps. That’s what will happen to the front-runners and early chasers behind me. They’re probably panicking at the four-length gap that won’t shrink. And when panic turns into despair—victory is within my grasp.

As I run, eyes fixed ahead, I notice the moment we enter the fourth corner—every front-runner and chaser suddenly raises their torso. Are they out of stamina? Have they given up? …No. They haven’t given up. They’ve just hit their limits. My pace hasn’t quite broken them yet.

“Whoa—!? The front-runners and chasers, swept along in Apollo Rainbow’s high-speed pace, are suddenly slowing down!! What’s going on here!?”

“They couldn’t keep up with Apollo Rainbow’s punishing pace and ran out of stamina right before the finish line. This breakaway was brutal!”

“The pack of closers is overtaking the fading front-runners!! Something wild is happening right before our eyes!!”

Before the final straight, the front-runners and chasers start to drop off. And by the time we hit that last stretch, the positioning has completely flipped—the closers now in front of the early pace-setters. At this point, the escapees have no shot at winning. They fall back, one after another, in what’s practically a reverse race to see who finishes last.

And now that the positions have reversed—of course, the closers come charging.

“Here they come! Bursting from a great position are the second-favorite Green Presence and third-favorite Destinate! They’re driving up from the outside with a forward lean! Biwa Takehide is a little behind but now entering her final kick!”

(They’re here—Green Presence!! Biwa Takehide, and Destinate!!)

The three I’d been watching are rapidly gaining speed, nearing their top gear. I don’t know how much my runaway pace has disrupted their rhythm or sapped their stamina—but they don’t look comfortable either.

I hit the final stretch with a six-length lead. But Hanshin Racecourse’s final straight is far from short. Holding this lead to the finish… won’t be simple. There’s plenty of room for a comeback. One reason? The course’s final challenge—Hanshin’s infamous uphill slope.

It’s only a 1.8-meter elevation change, but the 1.5% gradient makes it vicious. After running full-out to this point, the legs and lungs take that incline like a body blow.

With less than 300 meters left, I nearly retch up my lunch, clenching my teeth as I blast forward. Just as I hit the base of the final slope, my vision distorts, warping.

“Ugh—!”

A wave of chills crashes over me. My back trembles violently. I’m on the verge of vomiting. My stomach lurches, squeezing tight against my throat. The physiological response threatens to shrink my fighting spirit, but I drown it out with a scream of sheer will. Pouring everything I have left into this climb—I charge the hill.

“UWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”

The final stretch is down to the wire. Those three have me within striking distance and are unleashing everything they’ve got. Using the downhill of corner four, they’ve hit top speed. Now they’re mercilessly bearing down on my back. No. I will not fall out of first place on this hill. Desperately, I swing my arms, forcing my stiffening legs to keep pumping.

With her chestnut mane flying, Green Presence pulls up to second place. Her supple body sinks as her finishing kick fires. Then Destinate, dark-coated and powerful, comes up beside her in perfect unison. Biwa Takehide, perhaps a moment late, is trailing in fourth.

“200 meters to go!! Apollo Rainbow is still holding on to the lead! Green Presence and Destinate are battling it out for second! Biwa Takehide a little behind! Apollo Rainbow looks like she’s struggling—can she hold them off!?”

With 200 meters left, Biwa Takehide’s body lurches as she pushes uphill. That’s what happens when there’s an incline in the final stretch—those without stamina or raw power can’t hold their stride and start to falter. Biwa Takehide’s form breaks down.

“Oh—Biwa Takehide!! Biwa Takehide is out of stamina!! Not just the front-runners, even the closer Biwa Takehide has been swallowed by Apollo Rainbow’s brutal pace!!”

Destinate's chestnut frame reared up sharply, her speed vanishing in an instant—she was out of the race.

150 meters left. Green Presence, struggling to crest the hill, began to falter. Her finishing kick was giving out. Eyes wide in disbelief, she stared down at her own trembling legs, as if asking why they no longer obeyed her. They quaked, clearly protesting their limits. Ah… she's out of stamina too.

"This is now a three-horse race! Wait—no! Green Presence! Green Presence is out of stamina! Her posture’s collapsing!"

Her expression twisted in pain, stride growing smaller and weaker. Her once graceful upper body slumped, as though the string running down her spine had snapped. The arms that had been pumping with such intensity lost their force, and her figure vanished behind me.

—She too, was out.

100 meters left.

And then, Destinate, who had seemed off her game until now, suddenly exploded with power. She darted past the fading Green Presence, rapidly closing the gap between us. Three lengths. Two. One. With each pounding step, the thunder of hooves drew nearer. Even my ears, too numb to register anything else, caught the sound of her battle cry.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!"

She was always a stayer, built for long distances. Maybe she had trusted in that stamina all along… The thought flickered somewhere in the back of my mind as I forced my near-broken body forward.

But—just like that, she caught up. Too easily. Destinate bared her white teeth in a victorious grin.

"N-No way—"

A hoarse cry escaped my lips.

Just a bit more. There’s not even 100 meters left. Just a few more steps. I don’t want to lose, not now. So why won’t my legs move?

Maybe I overdid it, trying to pull off this insane 1100-meter long sprint. But no—this was part of the plan. There are opponents in the Twinkle Series you simply can’t beat without pushing beyond the limit.

—I’m not done yet.

I won’t let this be a race I regret!

"Gaaahhhhhh!!!"

"Less than 100 meters to go! Only two remain! In this unprecedented showdown, the only ones still running at full tilt are Apollo Rainbow and Destinate!"

50 meters left.

I was at my limit. I couldn’t spare a glance to the side, but I was sure she was right there, neck and neck. I had the will to fight back, but no strength left to do it. My spirit was starting to crack.

Is this how it ends—pushing the limit, only to lose? Then again, second place in the Wakaba Stakes still grants priority entry to the Satsuki Sho, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s fine… to let go—

“——”

That was when it happened. Just as my consciousness began to slip, I heard a voice pulling me back.

"You’ve got this, Apollo!! I’m right here with you!!"

It was like a jolt, snapping me awake.

That voice—it was his. My eyes darted toward the stands, searching for him.

—There he was.

Arms raised high, yelling until his throat was raw. Looking at me. Cheering. Believing in me.

He never doubted I would win.

Ah… nothing could make me happier than that.

The moment I realized it, lightning shot through the edges of my vision. Crackling bolts of euphoria surged through my brain. A strange force lifted me from below.

My fading stamina began to surge back. My vision turned white, and only the sensation of slicing through the wind remained against my skin.

—This is—

At that moment, I saw something.

But—right before I could grasp it—I missed.

No… maybe it's more accurate to say I was unlucky and got interrupted.

Destinate's upper body suddenly jolted upward, veering wildly across my vision as she began to slow down. The “Domain Zone” that was just about to unfold collapsed, dragging everything back into reality.

“—Destinate’s lost her form!? She’s lifting her head with a pained expression!! Is this the turning point for Apollo Rainbow!?”

Still stunned by what had just happened beyond my awareness, I burst through the finish line.

The Wakaba Stakes had reached its conclusion.

“Gooooal!! A flawless victory for Apollo Rainbow!! She pushed the pace from the very start, draining her rivals’ stamina and delivering a textbook shutout performance!”

Still not fully processing it all, I slowed to a jog and glanced back. Behind me, the other Uma Musume were crossing the finish line one after another, completely spent—moving at a speed unthinkable for an open-class race. None of them needed to be told; the moment they passed the finish line, they collapsed onto the turf.

…I was worried someone might have gotten hurt, but something else weighed even heavier on my mind. The string of events I experienced just before the finish line—phenomena that defied any scientific explanation.

—Was that it? Was that the “Domain Zone”? I came so close to grabbing hold of it… but I missed. Still, I was sure of it now—there’s something beyond our limits. With a heart full of certainty and joy, I thrust my fist toward the sky.

A victory cheer for the first time in forever. After the crushing loss in the Hopeful Stakes and the injury at the Wakagoma Stakes—I was finally back!! My joy burst forth into a grin, and right on cue, the roar from the stands exploded.

“As Apollo Rainbow raises her right fist, the Hanshin Racecourse erupts in a roar worthy of a Grade 1 race! Wow—it’s her first win in six months. After that stroke of misfortune in the Wakagoma Stakes… it really hits you.”

“She’s an incredible Uma Musume, no doubt about it. To show us her best race here of all places… While Silence Suzuka’s ‘run-away-and-then-strike’ style is one thing, Apollo Rainbow’s more of a ‘run-away-and-keep-running’ type. I’ve never seen a race where every runner except the winner runs out of stamina!”

Hearing the announcer and commentator’s voices, I felt myself slowly return to reality.

…No, my great escape isn’t anywhere near complete yet. Silence Suzuka can lead from the start and finish first no matter how many rivals stand in her way. Her speed is so overwhelming that no one can even get close enough to challenge her. It doesn’t matter how many try to stop her—none of them can.

But I’m not at that level. Not yet. This time, each Uma Musume was focused on their own victory, and that worked in my favor. If they had all ganged up to bring me down, I definitely would’ve lost. I would’ve gotten pressured by all the other escape runners early on, burned out, and probably been overtaken by someone like Destinate. My “great escape” is still a work in progress. I’m starting to see the shape of it, but the view I’m aiming for is still far away.

“T-The time is—whoa!? 1 minute 57.9 seconds! That’s almost the same as the 2000-meter time Silence Suzuka set just last week!!”

“She’s still in the Classic tier, right? That’s… terrifying.”

—Still. Even so, I think I have the right to celebrate now. After all, it’s my first win in about half a year. And I won it with that person’s support.

There’s no way this wouldn’t make me happy.

I waved both arms with everything I had, pouring all my gratitude into the crowd as I galloped down the home stretch. Then, Destinate—who had come in second by a two-length margin—called out to me.

“Yo! Congrats, Apollo-chan!”

“Destinate-chan!”

“Man… I was feeling so good today. Everything came together perfectly—I was in such good form it actually freaked me out a little. But after a race like that? Yeah, no way I was winning.”

Destinate was still catching her breath. She was trying to play it cool, but her legs were shaking and her shoulders were rising and falling heavily. She gave my shoulder a light pat, then tossed a line over her shoulder as she walked off the turf.

“—Satsuki Sho! I’m not gonna lose, so wait for me! Later!”

Once I saw her off, I realized I was the only Uma Musume left on the turf. On my way to the Winner’s Circle, I caught eyes with my trainer, who had been standing near the finish line behind the railing.

“Trainer…”

“Apollo… Ahh, I’m so glad…”

Tomio was gripping a handkerchief, tears welling up in his eyes so obviously it almost felt like a performance. “Jeez, you’re crying way too much.” “I can’t help it, okay?” we bickered as we reached for each other’s hands across the fence. His vision seemed all blurry from the tears and snot, so I took the handkerchief from him and wiped his face for him.

Even that pitiful, tear-streaked expression of his looked kind of adorable. I gently patted his head. He must’ve been carrying a ton of pressure without letting it show. After the injury in late January during the Wakagoma Stakes… he’d taken it really hard—too hard, honestly. Watching him spiral into that much gloom had been tough.

This victory wasn’t just for me—it was a win that saved his heart too. Even someone like me, who tends to undervalue herself, could say without hesitation: today’s win was something to be proud of.

“What a beautiful bond of trust they share.”

“Truly heartwarming to witness.”

…Before I knew it, the crowd around Tomio had started whistling and catcalling playfully. My face flushed bright red as I hurried toward the Winner’s Circle. Ugh, maybe I overdid it with all the clingy affection like usual. If a reporter brings it up later, I’d better have a decent excuse ready…

And just like that, my Wakaba Stakes ended in a brilliant victory.

March—the prelude to the Classics—was coming to a close. And now, April was just around the corner.