Chapter 7: Hitting Rock Bottom

When I opened my eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling stretched above me. At the edge of my vision, I saw the face of my trainer—someone I knew well.

"Ah, Apollo! You're awake...! Oh, thank goodness... For a moment, I didn’t know what was going to happen..."

"...Where am I?"

As I tried to sit up, his hand stopped me, his expression twisting with worry. Gently, he pushed me back down onto the bed.

"...This is a hospital."

"A hospital...?"

True, the room was eerily white. But a hospital? I couldn’t remember being brought to a place like this—until my thoughts caught up with reality. Right. I had been racing in my debut match, hadn’t I...?

"T-Tomio! What time is it now!?"

"...5 PM."

My debut race, the fourth round, had been at 11 AM. That meant I’d been unconscious for six hours after the race. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall the outcome. My face had exploded in pain, then I couldn’t breathe... What happened after that? Still, just seeing Tomio’s grim expression told me everything I needed to know.

"My race—what was the result?"

My lips trembled as I forced out the words. Tomio lowered his gaze and let out a pained sigh.

"...We lost."

The sound of his fist clenching tight reached my ears. Hearing those words, all I could do was slump back, drained.

Defeat. Those two characters struck me with brutal force, shaking me to my core. A shock like a heavy weight pressing against my chest paralyzed me, leaving me unable to sit up.

"...Don’t take it so hard, Apollo. If not for that freak accident, you would’ve won for sure. We’ll crush the next maiden race, okay?"

Tomio gave me a weak smile.

A freak accident—ah, now I remember. The collision with Jara jara. That girl got in my way. But—there was no malice in her actions. It was just bad racing luck that led to my injury. Pure, rotten luck. That’s what made it so unbearable.

That peak condition I had? Gone. That stride, that momentum, that determination—all of it vanished into the past.

Next maiden race? What a joke... I’d given everything I had to win this debut match.

And yet... to have my momentum crushed by something like this? Unbelievable. It pissed me off. It’s like the gods themselves hate me.

I dropped my gaze and clenched the sheets. A suffocating silence filled the hospital room, neither of us daring to look at the other. My racing jersey, now stained with a disturbing amount of blood, told the gruesome tale of just how bad the nosebleed had been.

—A nosebleed for an Uma Musume isn’t like a human’s. It’s no laughing matter. There are three main causes: trauma, fungal infections from mold, or lung hemorrhages. Mine was traumatic, so the bleeding stopped quickly... but the legendary Vodka retired because of a lung hemorrhage (nosebleed).

Just as leg injuries are common among Uma Musume and racehorses, nosebleeds are just as familiar. Some, like T.M. Opera O, turn it into a running gag, but that’s a special case.

"...Ugh."

I let out a heavy, defeated sigh.

That debut match—fate itself had come to kill me. The worst possible outside post position, drawn by lottery. A strong front-runner on the inside rail. The accident caused by my poor cornering. A tragedy born from the fact that my opponent wanted to win just as badly as I did.

The absolute worst part? Her arm just had to hit the one thing controlling my breathing—my nose. Hey, Three Goddesses... do you hate Apollo Rainbow? If Jara jara’s arm had just hit my cheekbone instead, sure, it would’ve swollen, but at least I could’ve fought properly.

—Damn it all... Sorry, Trainer. Sorry I’m such a weak Uma Musume.

Now that the defeat had fully sunk in, the pain in my nose throbbed back to life. A dull, pulsing ache. But this wasn’t just physical pain. It was heavier than that—the pain of losing.

"...Tomio, is my nose broken?"

"Nah, it’s not broken. You hit it pretty hard, so I was worried, but it’s just swollen."

Breathing through my nose was agony. Dried blood clogged my nostrils, making everything feel gross. Maybe I should blow my nose later... No, that might just make it bleed again. Ugh. What a miserable feeling.

I told Tomio, "I’m gonna rest for a bit," then turned away and pulled the covers over my head. But closing my eyes only made the regret burn hotter. My mind was a storm of frustration. No way I’d be sleeping anytime soon...

Just as I thought that, a visitor arrived at my hospital room.

The sound of knocking echoed through the room.

"Who is it...?"

Tomio gave the door a puzzled look before turning his gaze toward it. Slowly, the door opened—revealing...

"U-Um... Is Apollo Rainbow here?"

It was her—the Uma Musume from the incident, Jararaja, still wearing her slightly dirtied racing jersey. Her face was visibly pale, and her hands fidgeted anxiously in front of her chest.

"—What is it?"

Tomio forced a polite smile, though his feelings were surely complicated. In a way, this was the girl who had ruined his trainee’s debut victory. Honestly, even I wasn’t thrilled to see her right now.

"I—I came to apologize to Apollo...! I’m so sorry!!"

With that, Jararaja bowed deeply. My first thought? She’s a good kid. Yeah, none of this was her fault. We were both racing to win, and we both paid the price. That’s all.

Besides, in inexperienced junior-level races—these things happen sometimes, don’t they? No one’s to blame. That’s just how it is.

"...Jararaja-chan. Your right arm—is it okay?"

"Huh?"

"That’s the one you hit me with, right? Doesn’t it hurt?"

"O-Oh, no. Not at all, but..."

A bruise had formed on Jararaja’s exposed right arm—exactly where we’d collided. She must have been in pain. She must have been scared. And she must have felt awful about injuring me.

That overwhelming guilt radiated from her bloodless face and trembling body. If I pushed her to blame herself any further, she’d break. As the more emotionally mature one here, shouldn’t I be the one to forgive her? For the sake of Jararaja—an Uma Musume with a future.

"If it doesn’t hurt, then that’s good."

"......"

"I... I’m not angry. Since it wasn’t a split-lane race, I knew something like this could happen. So, let’s just... agree not to dwell on it, okay?"

Realistically, Jararaja would probably face a racing suspension for this. She might even be expecting some kind of punishment from me, but that’d be going too far. This accident—and the frustration and regret it left behind—would only make us stronger.

Jararaja clenched her fists so hard they trembled, radiating a self-destructive intensity before finally biting her lip. ...Does she really want punishment that badly? Fine, then. I beckoned her closer.

"Jararaja-chan. Come here. I’m gonna hit you now."

I waved my hands limply, locking eyes with her. Tomio moved to intervene, but I silenced him with a glance.

Jararaja stepped forward, resolved. She even squeezed her eyes shut—adorable.

"Clench your teeth, okay?"

Her whole body tensed up further. ...Honestly, just seeing her ready to take her punishment was enough for me.

Leaning forward from the bed, I reached out—and gave her cheek the softest little pat.

"Okay, we’re done."

"Eh?!"

Utterly bewildered, Jararaja’s eyes flew open. C’mon, if I actually hit her with an Uma Musume’s full strength, she’d die on the spot...

Gradually, understanding seemed to dawn on her. Her face crumpled, tears welling up as she repeated "I’m sorry" and "Thank you" over and over—before finally leaving the room.

Silence reclaimed the hospital room. Tomio watched me with gentle eyes. Unable to take it anymore, I called him over.

"Tomio. Come here."

"What's wrong?"

"Let me borrow your chest for a sec."

Saying that, I grabbed Tomio by the collar and yanked him hard against me. Pressing my forehead against his broad chest, I let my body sink into his warmth.

"Should've said something sooner if you were holding back, you idiot."

Tomio said this while stroking my head. Touched by his kindness, I had no way to stop the tears now overflowing.

---

Later, I heard Jarajara got a two-month racing suspension, and his trainer was fined after a stern warning. Well, that didn't matter—no, scratch that, it absolutely did matter—but with that fiery resolve, I began training for my next race: an unranked stakes.

The nosebleed left almost no aftereffects. Though my nose stayed swollen for three days, forcing me to mouth-breathe, it healed completely afterward.

One week after my debut race. Upon resuming training, one thought struck me—avoiding injuries is paramount. While injured and stagnant, my rivals would keep growing stronger.

Like Tokai Teio in the anime's second season, I panicked hard. The terror of my rivals improving made me beg Tómio to at least let me do light jogs.

I finally understood the importance of steady, injury-free growth. As the saying goes, "Safety is the champion's virtue"—staying healthy is its own talent. I don't know if my body's tough, but I want to run the Twinkle Series without another injury.

My next race is in two weeks: an unranked stakes. Same Tokyo Racecourse, 2000m turf. Unless selected by lottery, I can't even compete. That part’s agonizing—all I can do is pray.

"Apollo, let’s call it a day here."

"Haah… haah… G-good work today…"

Post-comeback, my first training was on the treadmill. Just pedal, pedal, pedal—building speed and power. Strengthening my lower body would stabilize my running form.

Right now, speed and power are what I need. Not Silence Suzuka’s god-tier frontrunning, but someday, I’d like to reach Mejiro Palmer’s explosive pace.

I already have the stamina for long hauls. To avoid another debut disaster, I need speed—enough to never get caught from behind—and the power to physically overwhelm other umamusume.

Tomio knows this. That’s why his training regimen hammers speed and power relentlessly.

The satisfaction of crushing his workouts, the visible growth in my stats—I’m not in peak condition like during my debut, but close. In this solid form, I head into the late June unranked stakes.

—Yet I failed to realize it. That debut accident had left me with a fatal flaw.

---

The unranked stakes at Tokyo Racecourse would be run under a downpour so violent, organizers nearly postponed it. My taxi ride to the venue felt like the rain might break the car.

As the weather eased to a drizzle, the race fanfare played. Needless to say, the turf was a sludge-like bog. By the gate, my track jacket was soaked, bangs plastered to my forehead.

"The crowd favorite, Apollo Rainbow, now entering the gate!"

Among eight runners, I started from a middle slot. Even on this heavy ground, I had no start-line jitters. It’s that much of a strength.

"All runners loaded. The race begins—now!"

But today was different. As the gates opened, inexplicable terror flashed through me—and I slipped, just slightly. Regaining footing, I accelerated, only to get boxed in, trapped behind others.

This was my first time racing in third. The blockers ahead fueled my frustration. My stamina burned faster than when leading. Maybe my gait just doesn’t suit chasing.

I had to reclaim the front. Veering wide, I tried passing the top two—but lacked the speed. The ranks held.

Third place into the final corner—

That’s when I saw it. A forearm, swinging toward my face.

"!!"

My fighting spirit withered abruptly. My leaned-forward posture straightened on its own. My legs veered wide uncontrollably, forcing a devastating loss of momentum.

"What’s this?! Apollo Rainbow can’t close the gap! Here comes second-favorite Anguta charging through! Coincidence barely dodges the leader’s desperate surge—and it’s OVER at the line! Now the battle for third: Apollo Rainbow vs. Crescent Ace!"

No final sprint, just a hollow coast to the finish. Every ounce of my will to fight had vanished. Moving my numb, lifeless body on reflex, I stared at the tote board. The results flashed instantly:

1st: #7 Anguta.2nd: #1 Coincidence.And—3rd: #4 Apollo Rainbow.

Confusion drowned out the frustration. What was that hallucination…?

I shook my head and scanned the stands for Tómio. He stood in the front row, raincoat hood up, glaring at the storm clouds like they’d betrayed him. I couldn’t fully grasp his thoughts, but I knew—this wasn’t the outcome either of us wanted.

Dazed, I trudged toward the locker room. I couldn’t face Tómio. This loss made no sense. That sudden deceleration… it must’ve looked like I gave up.

When I opened the door, Tómio sat there, not even bothering to wipe the rain from his hair. At the sound of the door, he stood and approached.

"…Apollo."

I flinched. Tomio towered over me. Would he hit me? I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for pain like that time with Jarajara—

But no blow came. Instead, he pulled me into a crushing hug.

"Huh…?"

I didn’t understand. I’d lost in the most humiliating way—distracted by ghosts, too ashamed to even regret. Yet instead of yelling, Tómio held me like something fragile.

"T-Tomio… why…?"

"…My fault. I failed to prepare you mentally."

His muttered words made no sense. He tightened his grip, then finally released me, fishing a handkerchief from his suit pocket. With hands tender as if handling shattered glass, he wiped mud and rain from my face. A pat on my shoulder, a forced smile.

"…First live performance next, yeah? Change and head to the stage. You know where?"

"Y…yeah."

"I’ll be there ahead of you."

He left, his retreating back radiating a loneliness that couldn’t have been real.

"Gotta change."

I swapped into that damn crop-top idol uniform and headed for Tokyo Racecourse’s concert stage.

My debut live would now celebrate a third-place finish. Floating through the surreal haze, I took position as stage lights blazed. The intro music blared; I plastered on a rehearsed smile and raised my mic.

The performance went smoothly. Despite the rain, a decent crowd had gathered. Mid-song, I spotted Tomio in the audience—and forgot the lyrics and choreography entirely.

"——"

Tomio was crying.

A grown man, weeping openly, not caring who saw. His face twisted wretchedly, sobs almost loud enough to reach the stage.

My chest seized. Breath fled. I nearly missed a step but somehow kept dancing.

I did this to him. That truth shackled my body and soul. The taste of true defeat—this was what carved you hollow.