Chapter 135: False Start
The starting gate, of course, was necessary—the closer the training setup was to an official race, the better the results it would yield.
So, amid the noisy back-and-forth between Gold Ship and Orfevre, the group of Umamusume worked together to push the gate into its designated starting position.
Every one of the assisting racers was experienced, and Kitasan Black was no rookie herself. The gate-pushing episode hadn't disrupted their warm-up at all.
If anything, that bit of teamwork seemed to have brought them closer together. Their energy and focus visibly improved, and in no time, they were ready for the race.
Noticing this, Makoto didn't waste any more words.
Once Kitasan Black and the others had entered their starting stalls—just like in a real race—he began his final checks.
"I've already set the gate timer. My monitor's showing a 30-second countdown."
Holding a tablet in one hand and a stopwatch in the other, he looked toward the racers waiting inside the gate.
Seeing no reaction from them—all eyes fixed straight ahead—Makoto nodded slightly, his gaze dropping back to the display.
"Alright then—2400 meters, counterclockwise, woodchip track…"
"Start!"
His announcement came at the exact moment the gates flew open—and in the very next instant, Makoto's pupils narrowed slightly.
It was obvious right away—though only six Umamusume were participating, the group split into two tiers almost immediately.
Out in front was Kitasan Black.
With a swift and precise break from the gate, dark brown woodchips exploded beneath the black-haired girl's feet. The muscles on her exposed arms and legs swelled with power as she accelerated.
After all the past training and races, Makoto had fully confirmed that his Umamusume's best running style was front runner, followed by pace chaser.
That was exactly the tactic he had instructed her to use before the race—and Kitasan Black was executing it flawlessly.
Close behind came Special Week, Grass Wonder, and Vodka.
All three were excellent pace chasers in their own right, and this race had been arranged specifically to suit that running style.
At the start, their first priority was to secure position—their acceleration was naturally sharp, and at a glance, they looked as though they were about to overtake Kitasan Black and seize the lead pace themselves, sticking tightly behind her.
Behind that nearly straight line of four racers, however, two others—Deep Impact and Orfevre—had both hesitated for just a moment, missing the break.
From the side, the two were about half a length behind the front pack. Deep Impact's expression was calm, her eyes glinting with a strange excitement, while Orfevre clicked her tongue in irritation.
"Oh-ho! And she was teasing me earlier!"
Gold Ship burst out laughing. "But look at her now—what a terrible start! Hahaha!"
"Golshi, that's not very nice to say about Orfevre…"
Silence Suzuka chided her gently, though she touched her chin in thought.
"Still… if I remember right, both Orfevre and Deep Impact do tend to have trouble at the gate…"
"It's a pretty well-known weakness," Daiwa Scarlet added seriously. "I think there were even a few races where the commentators joked about it."
Then her gaze sharpened as she turned toward the track.
"But even with that handicap, they still managed to claim the Classic Triple Crown. So, Kita-chan… you'd better not let your guard down just because they stumbled at the start."
"Mm. Especially when their finishing speed is that strong…"
Frowning slightly, Silence Suzuka fixed her eyes on Kitasan Black's figure as the black-haired girl tore down the track at full speed.
"Kita-chan's current form and stride… still need to be a little lower, a little tighter."
As the Umamusume around him chatted idly while watching the race start, Makoto's mind was racing.
Deep Impact and Orfevre missing the break wasn't exactly unexpected—both had a long history of slow starts in their races and training logs.
That was precisely why he'd assigned them a late surger strategy this time: even if they stumbled out of the gate, they could still smoothly find their position behind the pack.
It was their best running style anyway, so there was no concern about it ruining the training's purpose.
Which meant Daiwa Scarlet and Silence Suzuka were absolutely right—Kitasan Black couldn't afford to relax. Her handling of the opening phase was still far from enough.
On the track, Kitasan Black adjusted her breathing rapidly—turning the breath she'd held during the gate launch into the short, quick rhythm needed to secure her position. Her ears and peripheral vision tilted subtly backward.
Behind her, all five senpai gave off an almost tangible sense of pressure—as though they might overtake her at any moment.
Special Week's powerful strides thudded heavily from the inside, closing in from her left rear flank.
Directly behind her was Grass Wonder, clearly executing the chasing tactic Makoto had discussed. Every sound of her breathing, every focused step, every flick of her gaze clung tightly to Kitasan's back like glue.
Vodka was positioned slightly farther back than she'd been at the break—likely right between the other two, running with a measured, steady tempo that suggested a middle-run waiting approach.
But the sense of pressure from the two at the very back was on a whole different level.
Kitasan could tell from their footsteps—she'd seen the missed start herself—but they'd recovered in an instant.
One of them shifted inward. The other, outward. Their steps thundered like rolling drums, closing in from both sides as if to trap her between them.
'At this distance, with this pace…'
'This is not good!'
'I have to pull farther ahead! I can't give them the chance to close in!'
Her eyes flashed sharply, and Kitasan Black increased her tempo, fine-tuning every motion at once.
She wasn't the inexperienced rookie she'd once been. Having gone wire-to-wire to victory multiple times on real tracks, she understood—and could almost feel—exactly what her senpai were thinking.
When it came to front runners, no opponent would ever simply let them dictate the pace without a fight.
Pressure on the start, pressure in the turns, pressure during the cruise phase—at any moment, any rival might test her, force her to burn stamina early.
To shake that off—she needed to give them a reason to stop chasing.
For example..
'Even if you're all my senpai—if you think you can catch me now, then by all means… try it!'
Her gaze hardened. In perfect sync with her breathing, posture, and arm swing reaching their ideal state, Kitasan Black suddenly shortened her stride—and her feet struck the resilient woodchip surface with explosive force.
The wind roared harder in her face, stinging the corners of her eyes—but she didn't care. If anything, she pushed her speed even higher.
She didn't need to look back. Just from sound alone, she could sense it—the three senpai behind her, who'd been pressing close moments ago, were now easing off, falling into a "two-one" formation typical of pace chasers.
That meant they'd given up on forcing the pace, letting her take the lead and set the rhythm.
If the two in the rear did the same, entering the first corner at this tempo, her strategic advantage—even her chance of winning—would greatly increase.
'Good… Looks like Special Week-senpai and the others have backed off. In that case, I can—'
"Eh—?! What?!"
Just as she was silently rejoicing in her decision, Kitasan Black's peripheral vision caught something—a sudden blur on the outside track, so fast it felt like an illusion.
Her breath hitched, her eyes widened, and she couldn't help shouting aloud—
"De–Deep Impact-senpai?! It's still the opening phase?!"
<+>
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