Chapter 65: Clash! The Kikuka-shō! Part 2

Kyoto Racecourse – Race 9, the Katsura Stakes (3-Win Class), had just concluded, and now the stage was set for the main event: Race 10, the Kikuka-shō (Japanese St. Leger).

Eighteen elite racehorses had gathered in the afternoon light over Yodo—stamina-specializing dark horses, rising stars who had shone in the trial races, and G1-caliber fillies representing the pinnacle of their generation… A truly dazzling lineup.

And among these eighteen, there were surely a few stayers who had been stifled by the limited opportunities to run until now. Take Joyous, the sixth favorite, for example—a purebred stayer who wouldn’t even get motivated unless the distance stretched beyond 2600 meters.

In interviews with Monthly Twinkle and other magazines, she had voiced her frustration: "Short- and middle-distance races are bustling even in the junior ranks, so why do true long-distance races have to wait until the tail end of the classics?" A raw, unfiltered grievance only a stayer could understand.

Of course, it’s easy to sympathize with the desire to run longer distances earlier. But stayers are, by nature, late bloomers. No matter how strong their aptitude for endurance, building the heart to sustain those grueling stretches demands relentless, long-term training—day after day, hour after hour.

Tomio had me doing interval-based aerobic workouts from early on in my junior years. Thanks to that, my cardiovascular capacity improved dramatically—but it still took time.

And let’s be honest: If I were a trainer, faced with a choice between a filly built for short-to-middle distances—one who could race often and early—and a stayer with undeniable potential but requiring years of careful race selection before contending for major titles… most trainers would pick the former.

Trainers are human, after all. They're not machines built to raise Umamusume. The more their girls succeed, the bigger their bonuses. But long-distance races are few and far between, and their prize money isn’t especially impressive either. So of course trainers lean toward girls who can run short- to mid-range. Someone like Tomio—the rare “old-school good guy” type—is a complete outlier.

That’s exactly why, for us pure stayers, races like the Kikuka-shō carry another, hidden goal: elevating the status of both long-distance racing and stayers themselves. It’s a dream we hold alongside our personal racing careers—one we’ll never give up.

If fan interest in long-distance races and stayers grows—if, for example, a new long-distance race is created—then that would be our victory. Joinus and I have both suffered from limited race choices. Fighting so future stayers don’t have to suffer the same way—that, in its own way, is our mission.

“Suuuh—…”

This Kikuka-shō… is a fight we absolutely cannot lose, for the sake of our future. Of course, no race is one we can afford to lose. But losing a mile or middle-distance race as a stayer is not the same as losing the race that defines our entire purpose.

My goal is a ‘long-distance undefeated’ streak. Win the Kikuka-shō. Win the Stayers Stakes. And win the Arima Kinen at year’s end. This storyline is essential if we’re to draw more attention to long-distance racing.

Thinking about it now, there’s just too much I have to win. The unknown… destiny… the Kikuka-shō… Seiun Sky… Special Week… King Halo… the list goes on.

Ah, I’m burning up. The more challenges await me, the more my fighting spirit boils over like rage. Every step I take down this long underground tunnel toward the paddock sends heat surging through my chest. Combined with my excitement, my heart is bubbling—one step short of going totally out of control.

I wonder if the Umamusume who ventured into the unknown before me felt this same restlessness. When they pawed the ground and said “I wanna run already,” only to be calmed—maybe even a little flustered—when their trainers gently patted their heads and told them to relax. Going back and forth between nerves and anticipation… and before I knew it, all eighteen of us had gathered in the paddock.

The Kyoto Racecourse paddock is a perfect circle. That might sound like nothing special, but I really like that shape. The fact that I can love little details like that... maybe Yodo really is the place for me.

When Jewel Sphene, starting from gate 1 in frame 1, stepped into the paddock, the crowd erupted. Proudly showing off her jet-black racing outfit, she waved both arms dramatically to fire up the crowd.

『Number 1 in frame 1, Jewel Sphene—9th favorite!』

『An impressive presence, isn’t she? She may not be highly ranked, but she’s riding the momentum of a series of condition-race wins. She just might pull off a surprise in this final stage of the Classics.』

Skipping ahead, one of the six Classic elites appeared next—Seiun Sky.

『Number 4 in frame 2, Seiun Sky—3rd favorite!』

『She delivered a commanding win last time against senior-level Umamusume, but her popularity has dipped slightly due to a gate reinspection. Still, it looks like she’s more than ready to go for her second Classic title.』

Seiun Sky is a free spirit. She never lets herself be tied down, hides her true thoughts, and acts aloof. Even here in the Kikuka-shō paddock, that hadn’t changed. It was impossible to pin down her condition.

But when Seiun Sky gives off that "it's nothing special, really~" vibe... that’s when she’s actually in top form. The only exceptions were the Derby—where she was clearly off—and the Satsuki Shō, where she was too sharp.

Her debut and the Kyoto Daishōten last race were exactly like this. Despite the crowd, she keeps her appeal minimal, gazes lazily at birds that flit into her view, narrows her eyes sleepily… I’m pretty sure she’s trying to lower expectations and throw off her rivals.

But she’s still a G1 champion who won the Satsuki Shō. Everyone knows how strong she is, so suspicious stares from her rivals have already found her. I wonder if that old trick of hers will even work anymore.

On top of that, in real history, she won the Kikuka-shō in a world-record time. If I remember right, she outpaced a fully prepared Special Week and casually snatched the win. Sure, if it were a time trial, I could probably break the 3000-meter world record too… but once we’re both going all out at the end, who knows what’ll happen. Whether my runaway strategy works or not—it all depends on how far I can push into the unknown.

Next up was me—Apollo Rainbow. I stepped onto the paddock stage, took a deep breath, and tossed my jacket aside. It fluttered into the autumn sky before floating gently into my trainer’s hands. I snorted with pride, grinning from ear to ear.

『Number 5 in frame 3, Apollo Rainbow—2nd favorite!』

『Here comes the beloved Derby winner! She’s jumping into this Kikuka-shō fresh off a break, and there are questions about whether she can handle the distance. But… if anyone can become the first in history to win the Kikuka-shō with a full-on runaway, it’s her.』

I waved, and the crowd in that direction screamed like their souls were on fire. Their sheer intensity made me flinch a little—but I was grateful for the support. That said, some wore skeptical looks, others seemed downright worried.

Still, I doubt that kind of attitude means they aren't rooting for me at all. More likely, they’re simply unsure whether I can actually win, or they’re questioning whether I’m even suited for long-distance races.

Then all I have to do is shatter those doubts. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and stood tall, radiating confidence. I let a sliver of my "Zone" leak out, intimidating both the other horse girls and the crowd. Not many in the audience would have sensed it—but even so, something must’ve come across, because voices started rising from around the paddock.

My eyes met those of Seiun Sky, Special Week, and King Halo. This wasn’t like the Japanese Derby, where I had felt overwhelmed by the pressure of the others.

This time, I was the one exuding pressure. I held the advantage—not just in psychological warfare, but in distance suitability too. I wasn’t the one taking aim anymore. I was the one being targeted. Just like a race run from the front with a massive lead, I could say, "Catch me if you can."

Their fully-formed Zones began to manifest behind them—but my crystalline snow swallowed up their aura with ease. Special Week looked over, slightly intimidated. Without meeting her gaze for long, I turned away, let the pressure dissolve, and stepped down from the paddock’s presentation stage.

"Apollo Rainbow looks like she’s in great shape, but can she really go the distance in the Kikuka-shou?"

"That’s sudden."

"All the races she’s run so far have been between 2000 and 2400 meters. And now she’s skipping the trial races and jumping straight into the main event? On top of the five months since the Derby, there’s another 600 meters added. I’d say it’s stranger not to feel concerned."

"Realistically, you’re right… but did you see how confident she looked? She doesn’t seem like someone coming into this unprepared."

"…Yeah, I guess that’s true."

"Tomio-san probably saw a genuine shot at victory even against the Big Six. That’s why he’s sending Apollo Rainbow into the Kikuka-shou with confidence. You can tell there’s something behind that smile of hers."

"She waited until the last minute to declare, too. Maybe Apollo Rainbow’s going to be the true favorite after all…?"

Following me onto the stage came King Halo, who had delivered a stunning win in her last race. She was in Gate 9 of Bracket 5, the fourth most popular pick. Her condition seemed even better than before—right at her peak.

『Gate 9 in Bracket 5: King Halo, 4th favorite!』

『She’s coming in from the trial races as well. Gotta admire her resilience—she’s run every race from the junior level to the heart of the classic circuit without missing a beat. Will the strongest closing speed and power of her generation shine through over this long distance for the first time? Keep a close eye on her stamina.』

Judging by the confident look on her face, she’s riding the momentum from that win in the St. Lite Kinen. I can’t afford to ignore her—definitely someone to watch. Still, if she ends up stuck battling at the back and tires herself out, that’d work in my favor. If she pulls off a perfect race, even my great escape up front might get overtaken at the finish.

Last came Special Week, starting from the far outside: Gate 17 in Bracket 8.

『Gate 17 in Bracket 8: Special Week, the number one favorite!』

『And here she is, our second Derby-winning horse girl. No doubt the high expectations placed on her come from her steady rise along the royal road. Will her trademark closing speed—born from overwhelming strength and stamina—explode here today? She’s my top pick.』

Special Week’s classic aura was as captivating as ever… but let’s not forget, she’s the one who crushed the summer riser Joinus in the Kobe Shimbun Hai. She’s got that cute face, but there’s no room for complacency. Between Special Week and Oguri Cap, I’m starting to wonder if there’s some kind of rule in this world where big eaters end up being ridiculously strong.

Special Week furrowed her brow, throwing a sharp look my way. Technically, she should’ve been the sole bearer of the “Derby Winner” title. The fact that I forced a dead heat must be weighing on her. I’m probably the one she’s most focused on.

"Our plan is to go all-out and break away without looking back… but still, Spe-chan, King-chan, and Sei-chan are scary."

"…Don’t let them get in your head. You’ve got the makings of the Silence Suzuka of long-distance. I want you to lean into it more."

"That’s easier said than done… I don’t think I’ll ever completely fix this personality."

"Haha… well, I guess that’s one of your good points too. But for now, just focus on pushing past your limits—and winning the Kikuka-shou."

Once the paddock was over, we walked through the tunnel toward the turf. This concrete-paved corridor would lead us straight to the Kyoto Racecourse’s turf. And the words we exchanged here would be the last I’d have with Tomio before the race.

"…I’m really looking forward to the Kikuka-shou."

"…………"

"Huh? Did I say something weird?"

"…No, it’s just—I never thought I’d hear something like that come out of your mouth."

"I’ve gotten more reliable, right? I’m not lying, you know? I really am looking forward to it. We’ve worked so hard to get here. Yeah, it’s a little scary, but I feel like I’m brimming with this… excitement I can’t quite contain. I’m itching to go."

"I see… You’ve gotten strong."

Tomio patted my head. His touch was gentle. As long as the misanga from Machikane Fukukitaru kept my self-sabotaging side in check, I didn’t have much to fear.

When we reached the exit of the tunnel, we naturally turned to face each other. After a few silent seconds, we both grinned at the same time, flashing our teeth.

Tomio was probably more confident than he let on. For a moment, I saw a flicker of worry in his expression—but then again, entering any race means risking injury. It’s only natural that he’d look concerned for my safety. That’s not something unique to the Kikuka-shou.

"Apollo—go get 'em."

"Yeah. I’m off."

With his words pushing me forward, I dashed into the light—straight into the roaring cheers of Kyoto Racecourse—and set foot on the turf.

The source of the light was the crisp, clear sky of a perfect autumn day. Even though it was already late October, the temperature was over 20 degrees Celsius (68°F). The turf was dry and firm, the sensation of the grass underfoot was crisp and satisfying—ideal conditions for a fast track.

This Kyoto course, like Hanshin and Nakayama, has both inner and outer loops. But since only the outer loop is used for the Kikuka-shou, we could ignore the inner loop this time.

The defining feature of Kyoto’s turf course is the slope at the third corner—a 4.3-meter elevation known as "Yodo Hill." It starts rising midway along the backstretch, peaks at the third corner, and drops again at the fourth. Aside from that, the rest of the course is completely flat, making for a rather unique layout.

The Kikuka-shou starts from the end of the backstretch, just before the third corner. And right after the gates open, Yodo Hill is waiting. From the gate, all you see is a wall of green—it’s honestly pretty brutal. The slope looms up like a solid wall right in front of you. I mean, 4.3 meters tall is no joke—that’s about the height of a giraffe or a two-story building.

After crossing that first slope, it’s about 200 meters to the third corner. That means just as you’re starting to pick up speed, you hit the turn. So for horse girls on the outside… well, let’s just say it’s more than a little rough. They’ll be forced wide and have to turn at a steeper angle than those on the inside, which makes it easy to lose ground.

When they round the fourth corner and enter the homestretch of the first lap, the crowd—hyped by the intensity and the energy of the race—always erupts in thunderous cheers. You can’t blame the fans, but some horse girls can get pulled in by the excitement and lose focus. Overhyped girls end up wasting stamina about 80% of the time. Maybe I should’ve brought earplugs…

Then we pass in front of the stands and through the first and second corners—flat terrain—and face the slope a second time. This is where things get serious for us Classic-class runners. The first climb is right after the start, so it’s not too bad. But to be hit with another four-meter climb near the end of the race? That’s on a whole different level.

Horse girls without long-distance aptitude will have their legs and stamina drained here, leaving them unable to unleash a finishing kick. And even the best distance runners can’t avoid having their lungs pushed to the limit.

In the past, the go-to strategy for Yodo Hill was to "climb slowly, descend slowly." But with the way racing styles have evolved, the new standard is to climb carefully, then let the momentum from the downhill carry you full-throttle into the final straight. Because of that, a lot of horse girls start accelerating around the 800-meter mark—right near the top of the hill.

My plan is to charge up the slope at top speed, then rocket down even faster—but… that nightmare still lingers in the back of my mind. I’ll have to be careful with my form and footing on Yodo Hill.

…Once you get past the slope a second time, you enter the final stretch. It’s 400 meters long. In a 3000-meter endurance race, the horse girls’ conditions start to diverge dramatically here.

The ones low on stamina or just not strong enough will drop out of the fight for first almost immediately, ending their race without ever getting to use their finishing kick. The ones still full of fire will push forward from a good position out of the final corner to settle the score.

In general, the Kikuka-shou is considered tough for horse girls who run from the front. On a standard track, it usually turns into a race decided by closing speed. That said, if the overall pace is high, there’s still a chance for a wire-to-wire victory...

Another key feature not to overlook is the course’s width—up to 38 meters at its widest. That, plus the division between inner and outer loops, helps spread out the wear on the turf. As a result, the course holds up better than most others. In other words, unlike the Satsuki-shou, you’re less likely to see extreme inside/outside bias or the formation of a “green belt.”

『A total of 129,547 spectators have gathered here at Kyoto Racecourse! The horse girls begin their warm-up runs to a wave of applause!』

『And what’s this? Apollo Rainbow, known for her explosive speed, is holding back today. It’s just a light jog—far more restrained than usual.』

Today’s warm-up is subdued. I’ll save the full sprint for when the race actually starts. For now, a light run to loosen up is enough. Besides, there’s no need to fool my body anymore—this is a long-distance race, right in my wheelhouse.

Once the warm-up ends, we head to the starting gate set up on the backstretch. Horse girls stretch their backs, bounce lightly in place, and from far off, the fanfare begins to echo. Just off-beat clapping rises alongside it, and the moment the music ends, the crowd roars with excitement.

『Under a flawless autumn sky, the battle to determine the strongest horse girl begins here at Kyoto Racecourse!』

『Perfect weather for the final race of the Classic series. Couldn’t ask for better conditions.』

The cheers are distant from the backstretch, but still loud enough to make the turf shake. I take a sharp breath and step into the gate.

『Second favorite Apollo Rainbow now entering the gate.』

『She looks more confident than she did at the Japanese Derby! Definitely one to keep an eye on!』

From inside the steel gate, the view is crystal clear—more than ever before. The fire in my heart burns even hotter than it did for the Derby. My body feels great. My legs feel light. I’m not afraid of anything anymore.

『All horse girls are now in the gate. Final preparations complete.』

—I can do this. As long as I keep my form and run clean, victory is mine. I held my breath and got into position.

『The third crown of the Classic series—Kikuka-shou—starts now!』