With the racers now in the gates, the race began, a mix of local and central Uma Musume.
The crowd roared, shouting the names of their chosen racers. Muddy water splashed under the feet of over a dozen Uma Musume, and the sounds of heavy breathing rose and fell among the pack.
"All the Uma Musume have gotten off to a beautiful start! Currently leading is number six, Meisei Opera, followed closely in second by number nine, Fujimasa March…"
An enthusiastic voice filled the venue. Even for a race that didn't get much attention, he did his best to hype up the crowd.
And high above it all, on the sunshade at the very top of the spectator stands, in a place unseen and unreachable by anyone, stood a girl in black, leaning over to watch the track.
"She didn't show…"
The girl murmured to herself.
She was still here, waiting for her to appear. Before entering the venue, she had even deliberately wandered through the control room, past the glass windows, and had accidentally overheard news about an Uma Musume's last-minute withdrawal.
If she truly had the means to appear at this race, the only possibility was that now-empty starting gate.
But just as the girl was still analyzing just how she could have obtained information that a specific Uma Musume wouldn't race, the race began, and she simply hadn't appeared!
A fake.
It was actually a fake!
Could it really be that someone was just spouting nonsense?
Of course, that had always been a possibility. Her own guesses, her own actions… all of it might have been just drawing water with a sieve.
There really are people online who speak without restraint, presenting fabricated stories as fact.
She knew that… but it was still hard to accept!
She had considered the possibility that the Central organization was behind it, forcing her to compete continuously to catch her off guard. She'd also thought it might be some unknown third party trying to use her identity for mischief.
But when the girl realized the truth was likely just someone's wild fantasy spoken carelessly, she couldn't help but feel deflated.
This outcome… was just too boring.
She had specifically asked Silence Suzuka for advice on how to shift her mindset while running, all so she could adapt her form on the dirt track, to blend with the course, to deal with that unseen opponent.
And now, it was utterly useless.
Hugging her shoulders, the girl in black scowled with displeasure.
"You get times like this sometimes," Sunday Silence said. "You go charging off, eager for a challenge, only to find they aren't even there. You just come back disappointed."
After all, heaven seldom complies with human wishes. Disappointment is the norm.
Sunday Silence offered comfort.
"It seems that's the case, doesn't it…"
Golden eyes silently watched the race.
Yet, far across from her, on the open-air stands away from the main spectator seats, a girl with a baseball cap and long golden hair with blue streaks let out a sound.
"One, two, three… that's funny!"
She wasn't watching the Uma Musume on the track. Instead, she was staring through binoculars, fixed intently on the spectator stands.
Her tongue darted out, licking the corner of her mouth as she counted the people whose attention wasn't on the contestants, but on the now-empty starting gates the Uma Musume had long since left.
While all the other spectators were glued to the racers already entering the turn, this group, craning their necks in the opposite direction, stood out glaringly.
"Seventy-six. That's all."
She spoke in fluent English, then lowered her binoculars and immediately switched to equally fluent Japanese.
"To come all this way for a rumor of unverified authenticity… are these people her supporters, I wonder."
Those whose glances occasionally flicked from the gates to the racers were ordinary fans. Those clutching cameras, staring unblinkingly at the gates, were reporters. And those wearing Tracen Academy uniforms—
As students, they were future racers themselves. If they were paying this much attention to her, they must know something.
Some inside information unknown to the public, perhaps?
Ha, maybe! Hopefully!
"Interesting—!"
The girl let out a satisfied sound.
This crude letter of challenge had yielded far better results than she'd imagined.
"Miss Manhattan Cafe, Miss Agnes Tachyon, and maybe… Mr. Fujii?"
She shrugged, pressing down on her sun hat. Just then, at the very edge of the brim, her gaze inadvertently caught a faint, blurry shadow.
At the very top of the hundred-meter-high observation tower, a girl in black was looking out over the racetrack.
"A living legend—" The girl's mouth fell open in awe.
In the British Museum, there is a manuscript about Eclipse.
It records a story like this:
The birth of every legendary Uma Musume causes strange phenomena among the stars. Their souls emit a powerful attraction, drawing powerful challengers from across the world.
Now, a century later, fewer than ten have been able to cause a resonance felt by Uma Musume worldwide.
And this one, who appeared as briefly as a night-blooming cereus, whose presence was so intensely perceived by countless individuals… the sheer, profound weight emanating from her soul was far beyond anything the Uma Musume of this era could match.
It was as if, wordlessly, it whispered her identity.
Someone from the true dawn of the Uma Musume, centuries ago, the seventeenth century. The one who danced with Eclipse.
Her cheeks flushed, the girl couldn't help but hug her shoulders tightly.
Praise the Three Goddesses, how marvelous this world is—
The spirit of one long dead, still lingering in the world.
Which also meant her mind still held, intact, the secrets known only to those long-vanished legendary Uma Musume.
For example, the question that perplexes every Uma Musume:
Where is the ultimate limit of speed?
Why, after a hundred years, has no one in the world found the remains of those legendary Uma Musume?
Where did they go? Where did they die?
It was all utterly fascinating.
The girl steadied her hat.
The target was decided. Now, all that remained was to wait for the first contact.
She formed her hand into the shape of a gun, pointing it at that distant, blurry black figure. Closing one eye, she then—
"Bang!"
--+--
"Hah… Hah… Hah—"
Heavy, ragged breaths were exchanged among the racers.
As an 1800-meter mile race, it didn't require extreme pace control or constant vigilance over the field's shifting dynamics.
They just needed to seize the key decisive point of this race: the large slope, about three meters high.
If they could maintain their speed up that incline, victory was practically assured.
Although Fujimasa March had managed to hold second place in the early stages, the cost to her was considerable. The terrifying explosive power of the surrounding Uma Musume was on full display from the start.
It was only by pouring all her strength into her speed that Fujimasa March managed to stand out from the pack.
That, and the fact the others had no intention of fighting to the death in the early stages either.
These two factors combined allowed Fujimasa March to achieve her initial goal.
Even so, she was still trailing one person.
Meisei Opera.
The dirt track thudded dully underfoot. Her body, like a boulder packed with potential energy, shot past Fujimasa March. In an instant, she was two lengths ahead, maintaining a fierce pace.
This guy…
Gritting her teeth secretly, Fujimasa March desperately maintained her own running rhythm.
She had once said a chasm lay between Central and local racers, that Oguri Cap was the sole exception.
But it seemed now Oguri Cap wasn't the only one.
Meisei Opera also possessed strength that rivaled the Central Uma Musume.
Her powerful running was like a lion pouncing on its prey. Her steps seemed exaggerated and bold, yet she perfectly channeled that power into the sand, taunting Fujimasa March's own body.
There was no waste, no superfluous movement. This rough-yet-precise running form left Fujimasa March, trailing behind, utterly astonished.
Stronger than I imagined. But—
The wind whistled past her ears.
I didn't come here to lose either!
"'Qian declines, Kun prospers… the hexagram is unfavorable…'"
A voice reached her ears.
Somehow, a girl with long brown hair had drawn up beside her.
"Still not enough, huh… Screw that!" With a sharp cry, the girl began battling Fujimasa March for position on the track.
Not a chance!
Immediately quickening her steps, Fujimasa March moved to block her opponent's advance.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, 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.