November 13th, Kyoto Racecourse, Cloudy.
Announcer Kimura tugged at his tie, trying to ease the stifling feeling that made it hard to breathe.
Even though he had lost count of how many times he'd called the Kikuka-shō, he felt as nervous and breathless as he had on his very first day on the job.
"Never thought the two of us would be back in this commentary booth together."
Beside him, his partner, Announcer Matsushita, spoke with palpable emotion. After openly supporting Dream Weaver during the Japanese Derby, he'd been certain he would lose his job.
Yet, months later, not only was he still employed, he was once again behind the mic for the Kikuka-shō.
"Maybe those folks from Europe just don't have the time to deal with us right now. Heard they've been in complete disarray lately."
"They haven't even sent a replacement to head the Japan branch yet."
Hearing his partner's words, some of the tension in Kimura's chest eased. He turned and smiled.
"I knew Dream Weaver was right all along!"
Matsushita didn't reply directly. Instead, his gaze shifted to the stands, taking in seats that looked nothing like he remembered, and he murmured softly,
"Did they really expand the seating at Kyoto Racecourse just for this Kikuka-shō?"
"That's right. Don't know how they managed it, but they definitely added a lot more spots."
"Is that so…"
Looking at the unfamiliar scene before him, Matsushita felt a strange sense that the times were moving forward.
As the years passed, the things familiar to an old-timer like him would only grow fewer.
The admission system at Central Tracen, the public's perception of the Triple Crown races—everything he once knew had quietly faded away without him noticing.
But, unusually, Matsushita felt little nostalgia. On the contrary, he felt a flicker of joy at the passing of his own era.
During the prime of his life, the world of Japanese Uma Musume Racing had always felt stagnant.
Now, at an age where calling a single race made his back ache, he was actually seeing the dawn of a new age.
He would leave the track someday. But to witness this moment, to commentate on this very race before stepping out of the booth for good—it made his heart surge with emotion.
He straightened the tie his partner's model had loosened at the collar, turned to Kimura, and spoke with the firmest tone of his life.
"Every racing region will be broadcasting this Kikuka-shō. The eyes of the whole world are on this place. This might be the final gate before a new era begins."
"We, too, will be remembered alongside this race. Partner, do you have the confidence to stand with me—"
Before he could even finish, Kimura grabbed Matsushita's hand and shouted, "Of course I do!"
Seeing the fire in his eyes, Matsushita firmly gripped Kimura's hand in return and declared with fervor, "Good! Then let's give the performance of our lives!"
Leaving aside those two commentators now wholly dedicated to delivering their finest call, the stands were beginning to swell with people.
Unlike the Japanese Derby, where most spectators were local, this time the crowd had gathered from every corner of the globe.
Their skin tones differed, their hair colors varied, but the one thing they shared was the same look of eager anticipation on their faces.
Just as Matsushita had said, this Kikuka-shō was no longer just Japan's race.
After Dream Weaver's consecutive victories in the Satsuki-shō and the Japanese Derby, it was inevitable that the world's attention would be drawn here.
Especially with her opponent this time—that Uma Musume hailed as the strongest product of Europe's training system—who had returned to the Triple Crown trail.
Having already swept the Triple Crown three times before, her presence added another layer of fate to this Kikuka-shō.
Anthony was weaving through the crowd. He'd thought a European face like his would stand out, but he never expected Kyoto Racecourse to be packed with so many people from so many nations.
The enormous posters he'd seen plastered across the small city in previous days had now materialized into vivid reality.
Every heated breath from the people around him, every bead of sweat in the air, reminded him of one thing.
This place had become the center of the world.
A bizarre thought even crossed Anthony's mind—perhaps the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, scheduled for Paris soon, might not even attract this many people willing to travel thousands of miles to be here in person.
He shook his head, dismissing the fancy, and used the muscles he'd built from months of part-time work to push through the crowd.
Struggling forward, he yelled, "Richard! Can you still find our seats?!"
Nearly swallowed by the sea of bodies, seeing nothing but heads in every direction, Anthony couldn't make out the seating area at all and could only shout toward Richard's retreating back.
Richard heard him, of course.
He turned back, gestured in a direction, and motioned for Anthony to follow.
By the time the two brothers finally fought their way through the human tide to their seats, they were both completely winded.
"You gotta be kidding me… This is the Kikuka-shō?!" Anthony groaned weakly, tugging at his tank top.
It wasn't like he'd never been to Kyoto Racecourse before. Back when he used to observe from the VIP room windows, he'd never seen this many people.
"The papers said the advance tickets for this Kikuka-shō sold out almost instantly. They expanded the stands last-minute to accommodate viewers from around the world."
"Though they clearly forgot to expand the entrance gates for the spectators…"
Richard was just as exhausted. He had a vague feeling his trusty gold-rimmed glasses, worn for years, were at risk of snapping.
But more important than any of that was the race ahead.
Richard casually wiped his fogged-up lenses with his sleeve and looked out at the track.
They didn't have much money, so their seats weren't the best. Even so, Richard stared at the course with utter focus.
Not a single competitor had appeared yet, but he was watching more intently than he had for any race in his entire life.
"Dream Weaver… Dream Weaver… Just how far can you go?"
The feelings Richard held for Dream Weaver were no longer pure resentment.
He couldn't quite put a name to the emotion now lodged in his chest.
He only knew that, no matter what, he wanted to see Dream Weaver run on this track.
He wanted to see that dazzling crimson light blaze once more before his eyes.
Just as Richard was concentrating wholly on the track, Anthony, sitting beside him and fanning himself with his hand, caught a glimpse of a few familiar figures out of the corner of his eye.
But there were simply too many people. By the time he turned to get a better look, the figures had already vanished into the crowd.
--+--
T/N: I have a Patreon! Webnovel will get 2 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.