Chapter 63: To the Kikuka-shō

A few days later. Skipping class, we spent the entire morning at a major hospital for a full-body examination. The results revealed that my heart had hypertrophied to an astonishing size—double the average for a horse girl my age. Of course, it wasn’t like this from birth. This growth had happened between the Derby and now, during autumn.

…Wait, could it be…? Forget the weird feeling in my legs—maybe the reason I didn’t notice the strange tightness in my chest was because my heart kept pounding every single day. Because someone kept making it flutter nonstop. Yeah… that’s probably it. I don’t want to admit it, but it’s definitely the reason. Unbelievable… How embarrassing.

That same day, we headed to Agnes Tachyon’s lab, where a meeting was held with Tachyon, Trainer Okino, Silence Suzuka, and Trainer Tenkai.

Evening. The six of us gathered in Tachyon’s dimly lit lab, rearranging scattered stools into a circle. To my right sat Momozawa Tomio; to my left, Silence Suzuka. Next to Suzuka was Okino, while Tachyon sat between Tenkai (beside Tomio) and Okino.

With the Kikuka-shō just days away for me and the Tennō-shō (Autumn) a week later for Suzuka, time was short—hence this emergency meeting. Okino, pale-faced, spoke to Tachyon.

"Like I mentioned yesterday, I took Suzuka to the hospital. The results showed abnormalities in her hip joints, knee joints, and—well, to put it simply, her lower-body muscles have developed unusual flexibility. If this really is the precursor to the 'Unknown Territory', as Trainer Momozawa says… what should we do?"

After thoroughly examining me yesterday, Tomio had contacted Suzuka’s trainer and mentor, Tenkai. Okino acted immediately, taking Suzuka for tests this morning. Meanwhile, Tenkai and Tachyon’s trainer compiled data, gathering everything Tachyon needed.

Unlike someone I know, Okino, being a decent person, didn’t grope Suzuka all over. Anyway, Suzuka’s body was showing similar changes—potential signs of the Unknown Territory—and now we were here seeking Tachyon’s guidance.

"Hmm… I expected to find something in your race and training data, but for your bodies themselves to change… Give me a moment. I should have countermeasures based on past records."

Flipping through his notes, Tachyon spoke in his usual monotone.

"I want you two to reach the Unknown Territory. That’s my sincere wish. If we can document this progress, it’d be a huge help to my research. But races are unpredictable. What I’m about to suggest won’t eliminate risk—only minimize it. Understood?"

"Enough preamble. Just tell us."

"Fine, fine. Here—this might be messy, but take a look."

He handed printed materials to the trainers, scribbled with handwritten notes. Hard to read, but no time to complain. Suzuka and I leaned in, tracing Tachyon’s messy writing as Tenkai and Tachyon expanded on the points using a whiteboard.

—To reach the Unknown Territory, you must prevent injury at all costs while achieving peak physical and mental performance.

Eclipse’s undefeated legend. Secretariat’s immortal record. Man o’ War’s 100-length shockwave. Sea-Bird, France’s strongest. Dancing Brave’s devastating stretch run in the Arc. Ribot, dual British long-distance Triple Crown winner—countless legends carved their names through hellish trials.

"…!"

"Their greatest enemy was likely themselves." The page bore this furious scrawl. The ruin that comes with touching the Unknown Territory—overload-induced injury and the fear that follows.

Leg injuries, especially in the hamstrings, plague horse girls more than any other ailment. At high speeds, the strain on their legs is immense. While fractures and suspensory ligament tears make headlines, many quietly suffer from subtler injuries.

We can’t ignore the fact that very few racehorses retire completely unscathed. Some, like Tōkai Teiō, develop chronic reoccurrences.

And once injured? Recovery takes weeks, months—sometimes years. The damage happens in an instant, but healing drags on endlessly. Some never race again.

Injury is terrifying. Losing the ability to run is worse—it’s like losing the will to live. For us, running is life itself.

Even after recovery, the psychological scars linger. Many subconsciously hold back, their performance never the same.

Thus, the absolute condition for entering the Unknown Territory is: "Do not get injured." Tachyon’s notes emphasized this in bold.

Narita Brian, Symboli Rudolf, Mister C.B.—history suggests others may have glimpsed the Unknown Territory. But did injuries keep them from fully blooming? Cases like Teiō’s miracle are exceptions among exceptions.

"…………"

As we skimmed through the documents, a line jumped out at us: "A catastrophic injury will completely bar access to the Unknown Territory—yet preserving your racing career must take priority." To mio and I locked eyes, gulping hard.

"Even those who lose the Unknown Territory can still find strength—a different kind, but strength nonetheless. Still, wouldn’t you rather see it for yourselves? Unscathed? Well then, let’s get into the specifics."

First, Tachyon laid down the rule: "If anything feels off, withdraw immediately." But she’s a horse girl too—she knows it’s never that simple. The instinct to win is woven into our DNA, and in the heat of a race, there’s always the chance we’ll run regardless of the cost.

…Judging by the manic glint in her eyes, she’s leaving that judgment call to us. "Now, turn the page. The countermeasures are outlined there." Tomio and Okino flipped the sheet.

"This is all I could devise overnight. Master these points, and with luck, you might reach the next stage. Simple, no? But execution? That’s the hard part."

Two directives dominated the next page:

Never break form during a race.

Never slam on the brakes.

"Your bodies have evolved beyond their old limits—teetering on the peak. As the tests showed, your output now dwarfs anything from your past races. But push just a little beyond what your form can handle…" She tapped the paper. "Those glass-like legs of ours? They’ll shatter like chalk."

Imagine waking up with Secretariat-level power in your limbs. Now imagine exerting it improperly—your body would break. Even if my legs are primed for the Unknown Territory, raw strength has its limits. No amount of passion can reinforce bone.

Horse girls’ "correct form" exists to channel overwhelming force safely into the turf. Think of chalk: press it sideways, and it snaps. Press it vertically? It holds. We refine our form not just for speed, but survival.

"Avoiding sudden brakes seems manageable, but… ‘never break form’? How much leeway is there?" I asked.

Tachyon paused, weighing her words. "This isn’t absolute, but… avoid head-to-head clashes with other horse girls. Side-by-side duels, especially. Thankfully, as front-runners, you two are less at risk."

Even the slightest deviation under G1-level pressure could spell disaster. In training, we drill relentlessly to avoid this—but in a race’s frenzy, perfection is a pipe dream. Someone hotheaded like me? If provoked, I’d probably overexert and snap.

The Satsuki-shō defeat against Seiun Sky flashed in my mind: an all-out duel from the outermost gate, tricks draining my stamina, the soggy track sapping my finish. If that happened now—

A vision of Yodo’s slope from my nightmare resurfaced.

…Worst-case scenario? It’s possible.

"So… stick to the fundamentals of speed, or we’re finished."

"Precisely!" Tachyon’s laughter crescendoed. "No breaking form, no sudden brakes—that’s your ticket to the Unknown Territory! Ah, I can’t wait to see it! Ahahaha!"

The meeting ended with her cackling. The madness in her eyes? I couldn’t decipher it.

With the time remaining until the Kikka-shō, we decided to focus on live-race simulation training with Guriko and Meek-chan while also studying the Kyoto Racecourse and identifying high-risk injury spots during races.

To make a miracle happen, preparation is essential. It never comes to those who simply wait passively. Only by relentless effort, meticulous planning, and even then—only if the goddess smiles upon you—does a miracle take root in that razor-thin margin.

Not that my trainer and I were charging into the Kikka-shō completely unprepared. Even without Tomio’s discovery or Agnes Tachyon’s advice, we had a basic strategy in place. The power of determination matters, yes—but by pairing it with practical measures, we aimed to further reduce the risks of venturing into uncharted territory.

First, we noted the injury and accident hotspots unique to the Kyoto Racecourse. The most notorious was the four-meter elevation change at the third corner. Uphill, falls were frequent; downhill, any accident could escalate into a major disaster.

Beyond location, another high-risk scenario was a damaged turf course. Wet grass became slippery, and rough patches worsened the danger.

Additionally, late-stage turf events posed risks. Major races like G1s were often held as the 10th race or later, meaning the track would already be churned up by hoofprints from earlier races. Of course, avoiding those spots was possible, though it might cost some distance.

Then there was the issue of high-speed tracks. Uma Musume legs aren’t made of steel—they’re flesh, bone, and cells. The faster the race, the greater the strain, and the higher the injury risk. Combined with Agnes Tachyon’s warnings, this was a serious concern for me.

I could barely slow down during races. My brain just wasn’t wired for it—or rather, asking an instinct-driven Uma Musume to hold back was pointless. An impossible request.

Worse, if I deliberately eased up, I might violate the URA’s anti-throwing rules and face permanent exile from the Twinkle Series… And even if I somehow slipped past that, there was no escaping the three elites who’d ruthlessly hunt me down the moment I showed weakness. Defeat would be inevitable.

Uncharted territory meant pushing past an Uma Musume’s limits—something no preparation could fully counter. It was an unavoidable threshold. All I could do was burn Agnes Tachyon’s advice into my mind, hold my form, and charge through without braking.

In short: Pray for clear weather on race day, avoid rough patches, tread carefully on Kyoto’s slopes, and maintain perfect form. But these were basic precautions—things everyone did. Better to overprepare. So we took further steps.

To prevent disaster, we reset my horseshoes, applied protective taping (which I normally skipped), booked a pro masseur (thanks to McQueen), arranged turf inspections at Kyoto and all racecourses (via Director Akiakawa), and even had Machikane Fukukitaru perform a curse purification ritual (through Suzuka).

"Your fortune for the Kikka-shō is—WHOA!? Great luck, Apollo! GREAT LUCK! Amazing!"

"So there’s hope...?"

Fukukitaru’s fortune-telling tent (however dubious) declared it a resounding daikichi. At this point, I had nothing left to fear.

October, Week 4. At Yodo. Standing in the packed Kyoto Racecourse, I felt nothing but pure, unshakable resolve.