Chapter 6: Chaos—The Debut Race!

"Apollo… you were beautiful."

Those were the words Tomio left me with after I finished my first full performance. He had watched me dance on stage with a look of surprise—maybe even a little flustered. Ugh… just remembering it makes my chest feel weird.

"Mmmmph—!!"

Beautiful. Not cute, not cool—beautiful!

I buried my face into my pillow, kicking my legs against the bed like an idiot.

"Apollo, you’re being loud."

"S-sorry…"

I apologized to Guri-ko but kept replaying that moment in my head. Tomio had caught me so off guard that I’d snapped back at him in embarrassment.

"D-dumbass!! Gross!! That’s straight-up sexual harassment!!"

"Huh!? I was complimenting you! That’s harsh!"

…I did apologize over messages later, but yeah—I went too far. Maybe I should get him a little apology gift.

…The thing is, mentally, I still feel like a guy. Getting complimented by another guy shouldn’t make me feel all fluttery—if anything, I’d be happier hearing it from a girl. And yet.

The moment Tomio called me beautiful, I felt like I could’ve floated straight into the sky. My polished looks, the dance I’d worked so hard on—all of it was being acknowledged, and damn it, my heart skipped a beat.

It’s been two months since I became an Uma Musume. And the more time passes, the more I feel like I’m the one changing…

…But right now, I need to focus on my debut race.

---

One Day Until the Debut Race

The final adjustments were done, and I was in the trainer’s room for a strategy meeting.

My debut race would be at Tokyo Racecourse—2000 meters on turf, eight-horse field, left-handed course. Starting from the wide outer lane, we’d navigate a few uphill and downhill slopes before hitting the final straight, where a brutal 2-meter climb awaited just before the finish line.

Slopes are always a hurdle for front-runners like me. That final uphill stretch in particular? It murders a speed-based runner’s momentum. Front-runners like me don’t have the stamina for a late-game surge, so when that slope hits, our pace crashes.

But… if you can hold the lead all the way to the end? That’s a different story.

The only one who ever pulled that off flawlessly was Silence Suzuka.

Compared to her, my "run like hell and hope for the best" strategy looks like a joke.

Silence Suzuka—the racehorse who won six straight races before her tragic injury—was called the strongest in Japan at her peak. If I could race like her, holding an unstoppable lead from start to finish, no mid-pack runner or closer could ever touch me.

Everyone dreams of reaching her level. Everyone fails.

…Okay, fine, maybe I was kinda inspired by Suzuka. But why does the gap between us feel so huge? Is it just… talent?

"Apollo… Apollo? You listening?"

"Yeah, yeah~"

"Really? You looked lost in thought… Eh, whatever."

After reviewing the course details, Tomio handed me a printed list of the race entries.

"So, Apollo. You're starting from the far outside gate."

"...Yeah."

"You already know this, but holding the lead from the widest gate is brutal."

For a front-runner like me, the outermost starting position is a huge disadvantage. Worse, Tokyo Racecourse’s 2000-meter track has an immediate turn after the start. If I accelerate too hard out of the gate, I’ll swing wide and lose ground. But if I don’t push hard enough, I’ll get swallowed by the pack and lose my chance to lead.

I’d learned this the hard way during gate practice—repeatedly. It’s awkward. Nearly impossible to settle into my ideal rhythm. But… I just have to trust the training Tomio and I put in.

There’s another problem, though. Another front-runner, Jara Jara, is lined up in the inside gate.

"Jara Jara in Gate 2—you’ll be fighting her for the lead early. If it turns into a speed duel, the pace will be insane... but that actually plays to your strengths."

"Because I’m used to all-out sprints, right?"

"Exactly. Your stamina and grit are already top-tier for a junior. Push the pace and break her."

Even though I’m still adjusting to middle-distance races, a battle of endurance favors me. The key is nailing the start—a single misstep could ruin everything for a front-runner.

The more I think about tomorrow’s debut, the more anticipation and anxiety clash in my chest. But just barely… excitement wins out.

—I want to win.I want to give this trainer his first victory.No—I will. I have to.

That conviction surges through me, setting Apollo Rainbow’s heart pounding in the best way.

Of course, there’s more at stake than just feelings. If I don’t win prize money in my debut, I risk being excluded from future races. The last thing I want is to lose, then get stuck in a cycle of lottery rejections for unranked races. I need this win. I need to prove my worth.

—The Twinkle Series is as much a business as it is a sport. Money talks. In the Uma Musume games, "fan count" determines eligibility for major races—but here, it’s all about prize money.

Only the top five finishers earn prizes, split between "main rewards" and additional "bonus payouts." Your total earnings—your "acquired prize money"—dictate whether you qualify for graded stakes.

In short: winning solves everything.But if it were that easy, we wouldn’t be fighting so hard.

"That’s it for the meeting. Rest up for tomorrow!""Got it!"

As Tomio started erasing the whiteboard, I turned to leave—then stopped.

"...Oh!"

Right. There was something I had to say.

I spun back toward him, raising a fist.

"Hey, Trainer."

A faint smile tugged at my lips as I made my declaration—partly to psych myself up, but mostly because I needed him to hear it.

"I’m definitely winning tomorrow."

I couldn’t read his expression. But after a beat, Tomio grinned and bumped his fist against mine.

"—Damn right. Give it everything, Apollo."

Alright—Tomorrow’s the day.

---

Tokyo Racecourse, 4th Race. The weather was clear, not a cloud in sight—the track condition declared "good." As originally scheduled, the debut race would proceed with eight participants.

Clad in a tracksuit and numbered bib, I was doing final checks with Tomio.

"Hooves—good. Coat sheen—good. Hindquarter tension—good. Stretching’s done too. From where I stand, your condition’s perfect."

If this were the old me, I might’ve kicked up a fuss over him mentioning my "hindquarter tension," calling it sexual harassment. But now? None of that mattered. All I cared about was winning.

No—crushing them. I wanted to trample every last horse girl in our way, force our opponents into defeat. My hunger for victory was so vicious, so all-consuming, even I could recognize how ugly it was. And yet, I was perfectly honed.

When I glanced at the changing room mirror, a dappled-gray horse girl with blazing eyes glared back. My condition was terrifyingly sharp. Focus locked in. Even in this middle-distance race—not my strongest suit—I could aim for first.

I wrapped my arms around myself, forcing down the surging heat. My body trembled. Nerves? Maybe. Or maybe it was that pre-battle shudder warriors talk about. Either way, all I had to do was execute what we’d trained for.

"Apollo—Apollo. You okay? You’ve been shaking for a while now."

Tomio’s voice reached me just before his hand settled on my shoulder.

"Trainer... I’m fine."

The shaking had stopped. As if sharing that sensation with him had steadied me.

Right... I wasn’t alone. He was here. My trainer, staying by my side.

There was nothing to fear. I could do this—no, we could.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

Our eyes met. At this point, words were unnecessary.

---

After parting with Tomio, I headed through the underground passage toward the paddock reveal. Following the staff’s directions, I soon reached the path leading to the track.

"…………"

Oddly, I felt calm. Step by step, I walked with slow, deliberate confidence. Upon reaching the paddock, I plastered on a polished smile and waved to the crowd.

"Gate 8, Number 8—Apollo Rainbow. Third favorite today."

"There isn’t much public info on her, but word is she’s a front-running stayer. She’s my personal pick."

The spectators were sparse—though for a maiden debut race, this was probably a decent turnout. Die-hard horse girl fans pressed against the front rails, watching us intently. Amid the murmurs, snippets of conversation reached my ears.

"Apollo Rainbow—mark my words, this one’s gonna break out."

"What’s with the sudden confidence?"

"Look at her. The muscle tone, the coat’s gloss. Her tail’s flicking like she’s in top form, and most of all—she’s way too composed for a first-timer."

"Hmm... Now that you mention it, yeah. Oh, wait—I just remembered. A contact of mine said her trainer used to be Mejiro McQueen’s sub-trainer."

"Seriously?! That’s a combo with serious potential...!"

I let the words wash over me and strode toward the steel starting gate. Ahead stood seven rivals. The ones to watch: the front-running favorite, Jara Jara, and the second-favorite closer, Against Gale.

We exchanged glares, sparks flying at the gate. The moment Jara Jara and Against Gale locked eyes on me, battle flames ignited in their gazes. Hah. No wonder they were the top picks. Just as Tomio warned, these two were on another level compared to the rest.

—Didn’t matter. I bared my fangs and let my bloodlust surge.

—I’ll leave every single one of you in the dust. Don’t even think about getting in my way.

With that silent snarl, I turned on my heel.

Late spring. Under a boundless blue sky, the fanfare blared.

"Above Tokyo Racecourse, a vivid azure expanse. The weather is clear, the track condition—good."

"A refreshingly perfect day for a maiden debut, don’t you think?"

I tapped my cleats against the turf a few times, testing the ground. Not that I needed to—my condition was undeniably peak. This was just ritual by now.

One by one, the horse girls ahead of me filed into the starting gates. Unlike the qualifiers, every single one slid in without hesitation. Guess most here had cleared gate training easily.

Once the seventh girl entered, I stepped into my assigned stall.

"In the far outside gate, third-favorite Apollo Rainbow takes her position!"

"Look at that focus—she’s locked in!"

Inside the gate, my world narrowed to a slit. Only my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Hyperfocus. Sweet, crackling tension. My chest burned. I wanted to run—now. The urge threatened to burst through the closed barrier.

"All gates loaded. The moment we’ve waited for—here. We. GO!"

With that, sound vanished.

I’d lucked out in the qualifiers, but this was a higher tier entirely. No doubt the competition was fiercer. For a nobody like me, even a maiden debut race was a mountain to climb.

Winning wasn’t guaranteed. Not for me. Legends? Sure. But I had no historic pedigree to fall back on.

So I’d claw victory out with my life on the line. That was the only way a mob horse like me could touch the shadows of legendary racers.

The track fell dead silent. At the faint metallic creak of the gates, I kicked off with everything I had.

"AND THEY’RE OFF! Apollo Rainbow from the outside—what a start!"

"No significant lag! Now, who’ll take the lead—?!"

Leaving the clattering gates behind, I rocketed forward. Just for a second, I pulled ahead by a length or two.

No way I’d waste this. I cut inward—not enough to risk disqualification—and seized the front. That front-runner, Jara Jara, was already stuck in my wake. The early battle was mine. Hugging the inside rail, I took the first turn.

"Around the corner they go, with Apollo Rainbow leading the charge! She’s widening the gap!"

"Is this a runaway? Might be pushing too hard—"

My strategy was simple: blast the pace to hell from the start, break the others, and never look back. By the second turn, I led Jara Jara by four lengths.

But she wasn’t having it. Her stride surged. She meant to crush me and reclaim the lead.

"Down the backstretch, and this fourth race is setting a blistering pace! Can these two hold on?!"

Jara Jara drew level, her breath ragged. She was burning reserves meant for the final hill. No composure left—not that I had any either.

I dug deep, fending her off as she tried to overtake outside. She pushed harder; I matched her. Again. Again. Even my stamina was flashing warning signs.

Then, at the third turn, I failed to rein in my speed and swung wide. In that split second—Jara Jara’s presence vanished from my periphery.

"—!?"

Gone—no.

A figure shot through the gap between my drifting form and the rail.

Jara Jara.

"OH! Lead change! Jara Jara carves through the inside and retakes first!!"

"Incredible! A maiden debut with fireworks like this? Next year’s classics just got interesting!"

She’d exploited my mistake, barging through the narrowest opening. And as she surged past—

—

—

—her swinging elbow smashed straight into my nose.

"—!?"

THUD.

A sickening sound. A split second later, white-hot pain exploded across my face. My driving posture shattered—head snapping back, momentum bleeding away. A wordless scream tore from my throat as the crowd erupted in chaos.

"OH! Apollo Rainbow clutches her face and slows! Is this an accident?! Stewards might call for review—!"

For a fraction of a second, the world went black. Disoriented, I blinked—only to realize I was drifting wide around the final turn. Three lengths ahead, Jara Jara stared back at me, eyes wide with shock.

My vision swam red. My nose burned. Blood? Each breath seared. Lights danced in my vision.

"Gh—hk—!"

I choked as warm liquid flooded my sinuses, thick and metallic. Gulping only made it worse—something viscous clawed down my throat. I gasped for air, but at this speed, I couldn’t even cough.

Then the thunder approached.

Hooves. Dozens of them.

And with merciless ease—I was swallowed by the pack.

Someone screamed.

Agony. Confusion.

"Final stretch! Apollo Rainbow fades! Jara Jara’s caught too! Against Gale weaves through—ROSE BOUQUETTO surging for second—!!"

Sound faded. My legs went numb. Limbs refused to obey. Only momentum kept me moving.

"THE WINNER IS—AGAINST GALE!! Rose Bouquetto takes second! A stunning debut victory for—Against Gale—against all—"

Through the crimson haze, I stayed upright.

But the moment I registered crossing the dead-last finish line—my knees buckled.

Turf rushed up to meet me.

Green. Then darkness.

Crash.