Even after confirming that the main rival in this year's Irish Champion Stakes would be Elmaamul, Kuroha didn't show much heaviness or impatience.
First, as a Trainer, he was Oguri Cap's anchor. There was no way he could let even a trace of panic show in front of his own Uma Musume.
Second, this Uma Musume named Elmaamul, in truth, still fell within Oguri Cap's answerable range.
The Uma Musume from Great Britain was undeniably gifted, but if you had to quantify it, her talent tier was roughly on par with "Break Past the Top Three."
And even though, after two reckless rounds of excessive True Blooming, her physical abilities had erupted to a critical threshold…
In Kuroha's estimate, it was about equivalent to Oguri Cap's physical condition in the late Classic Year, back in that final showdown with Tamamo Cross.
Overall, her stats probably hovered around the 1,100-point bracket.
That kind of strength really could let her barely keep pace with those peak Senior Year Uma Musume—and under specific conditions, even pull off an overtake.
But what truly gave her the ability to defeat other Senior Year Uma Musume wasn't her raw numbers.
It was that power that might exist in the entire world only in single digits—
Domain.
And now, the one standing in her way was Oguri Cap, who also possessed Domain, and whose physical abilities had long since stepped into an absolute peak.
As long as Oguri Cap could overcome the disadvantage of an unfamiliar foreign turf, she could take this race without so much as lifting a finger.
"Of course… that's only if she can overcome it perfectly."
Kuroha lifted his gaze to the lead-gray, heavy clouds that seemed to hang eternally over Ireland's skies, and fell silent.
…
Another week passed.
Gildune Manor, training grounds.
Today, Haitoshi finished training earlier than usual, so Kuroha brought her—and Star, the little tagalong—out to the track to watch Oguri Cap's daily session.
"BOOM—!!!"
A heavy, thunder-like roar rang out in every direction.
Even in turf this thick and wet, Oguri Cap's foot planted down, leaving behind a deep hoofprint carved by day after day of training.
Terrifying force exploded from her thighs, drove up through her spine, and propelled her body forward—turning the gray-haired girl into a blurred streak of light as she effortlessly trampled the entire muddy track beneath her.
At the sidelines, Haitoshi had her small backpack on, her mouth hanging slightly open, staring in a daze.
"So this… this is the strength of your 담당 Uma Musume, Kuroha…?"
Seeing a peak-form Oguri Cap sprint at full speed hit with such overwhelming visual impact that this young Uma Musume—who'd been in True Blooming for less than two months—could barely form words.
"What?" Kuroha glanced at her with a smile. "Scared?"
"When you were at Tracen, didn't you ever see your school's seniors run?"
Haitoshi nodded, then shook her head again, her expression complicated.
"I did, but… it feels like almost nobody can run faster than her…"
Irish Tracen Academy had produced more than a few powerhouses over its history.
But in the past few years, there really had been a gap in both the quantity and quality of top-tier Uma Musume—nowhere near the monsters next door in Great Britain.
…
"Thump—"
On the track, Oguri Cap gradually slowed at Kuroha's hand signal, then came to a stop.
"…"
The gray-haired girl stood there a little blankly, lifted one hand and flexed her fingers, then lightly brushed the ground with her toe, as if confirming that feeling of control.
A moment later, pure joy bloomed on her face, and she jogged happily toward Kuroha.
"Trainer! That lap felt good! What's the next training menu—?"
"Ogui—"
As Oguri Cap came close, Berno Light, who'd already been waiting to the side, hurriedly handed her a thermos of warm water and pulled out a dry towel, tiptoeing as she dabbed at the sweat on her forehead with a cheerful, bouncy rhythm.
Kuroha closed his notebook and looked at Oguri Cap's face—so full of drive—and said, "That's it for this morning. Let's go eat."
Then he paused, a smile tugging at his lips.
"And also—good job."
The moment Oguri Cap heard the word "eat," her eyes lit up even brighter than before.
Then, hearing Kuroha's praise, she froze for a beat before clenching her fist hard, grinning right back.
"Yeah! I got it!"
"Light, you go with Oguri and call Fumino and Super Creek. We're heading back for lunch."
"Oh, okay, Kuroha-san!"
Berno Light nodded obediently, grabbed Oguri Cap's hand, and ran toward Fumino, who was a short distance away, currently guiding Super Creek's training.
In an instant…
Only Kuroha, Haitoshi and Star, and Lisi—who'd been standing there with arms crossed in silence—were left at the original spot.
"What's wrong, Lisi-nee?"
Seeing Lisi frowning tightly, Kuroha raised an eyebrow.
At his voice, Lisi snapped out of her thoughts.
She looked at Oguri Cap's retreating figure and sighed softly.
"Oguri Cap's adaptation speed… honestly exceeds my imagination."
"It hasn't even been ten days, and she's already able to run at that speed on this turf. Kuroha, you really are one hell of a Trainer."
"Haha, you're flattering me."
Kuroha crouched down, then with a small "heave-ho," scooped up Star—who'd been tugging at his pant leg, begging to be held—and settled the little girl in the crook of his arm.
"It's mainly Oguri Cap's own effort."
"Mm."
Lisi nodded, then admitted frankly, "When it comes to training, I know my own limits. There's basically nothing I can offer you as guidance anymore."
"The only thing I can still give you is some 'local' experience."
"Oh?" Kuroha straightened a little. "Please. I'm all ears."
The middle-aged woman first glanced up at the cloud-choked sky overhead.
Then she crouched, pressed her palm firmly into the wet turf, scooped up a handful of grass and soil, and said quietly:
"Overseas expeditions—besides track firmness and a Uma Musume's condition—the biggest variable is the climate."
"Ireland sits in Western Europe. Most of the country is a temperate oceanic climate. It's cloudy year-round, and clear skies are rare."
"Even in summer, you're looking at temperatures only in the low twenties Celsius."
"So once it rains, even the next day, the ground is hard to fully dry out."
Lisi dusted off her hands and stood, looking at Kuroha.
"Especially in the second half of the year, rainfall is abundant."
"It's a bit like the rainy season in Tōkō (東煌)'s Jiangnan region—individual showers aren't necessarily intense, but the frequency is extremely high. Sometimes for an entire month, most days are just a steady drizzle."
"And that just so happens to be… when the Irish Champion Stakes is held."
Kuroha caught what she was implying, his gaze sharpening.
"You mean on race day, there's a high chance it'll rain, and the track will turn soft and heavy—maybe even into a bog, right?"
"Not just that."
Lisi nodded, her expression grave.
"Gildune Manor's training ground is a replica built to mimic Leopardstown Racecourse—a 'low-latitude mud track' imitation."
"But the real venue, after rain… might be beyond what you're imagining."
"Of course, for Irish or British Uma Musume, since they've lived here for over a decade, that difference feels as natural as coming home."
"But Oguri Cap is different…"
"Even if she seems adapted to turf now, this is 'Gildune's turf,' not 'rain-soaked Leopardstown.'"
"…"
Kuroha fell into thought.
After a moment, he raised his head. There was no fear in his eyes—only a calmer, more assured smile.
"Thanks for the warning, Lisi-nee. I'll keep that in mind."
"As long as you're prepared."
Lisi shrugged. "That's about all the experience I've got to offer. Tactical adjustments—you'll have to handle those yourself."
"Come on, Lisi-nee. Your ability's not bad," Kuroha said politely.
"Ha. If only that were true."
"…"
Meanwhile…
Great Britain, at a sealed training base.
"Mm—!"
A girl with short chestnut hair lay back on a massive strength machine, bench-pressing.
The terrifying number on the red weight plates was enough to make an ordinary person break out in a cold sweat with just one glance.
But in her hands, it rose again and again—steady and controlled.
Her muscle lines were drawn taut to the extreme, every fiber of her body practically roaring.
Finally, she completed the last rep of her limit set.
The bar racked.
The girl sat up slowly. Beads of sweat rolled down her strong, agile frame, giving off a wild, feral kind of beauty.
"Elmaamul."
A somewhat aged, hoarse female voice sounded beside her.
An old woman with a face full of wrinkles and a gloom-laden aura walked over and handed her a few thin pages.
"Oh?" Elmaamul took them with interest and flipped through. "The final entry list for next month's race?"
After scanning the names, she casually handed it back, her expression full of indifference.
"What, Granny? Is there someone on there I need to pay special attention to?"
The old woman's brow furrowed even deeper, the creases in her face tight enough to pinch flies.
"There is… The other trash doesn't matter. You only need to watch one person."
"Who—"
Before Elmaamul could finish, the papers were thrust back in front of her.
This time, the photo being indicated was a gray-haired Uma Musume with an amber diamond-shaped ornament on her forehead.
"Uh… Oguri… Cap? Oguri Cap?" Elmaamul rubbed her chin, stumbling through the name.
"She's a Uma Musume from the far eastern island nation. And she's apparently one of that country's top-tier runners."
"And right now, her Trainer is a top-level coach who's guided two international G1 champions."
The old woman's voice was low and rasping.
"And if we're talking base physical ability alone… she's stronger than every single Uma Musume on that list."
"…"
Elmaamul's movement stopped.
She lifted her head, her gaze razor-sharp.
"Stronger than Sixton?"
Sixton—also a Great Britain Senior Year powerhouse—had been the hypothetical opponent she and Granny had valued most.
"Much stronger."
The old woman answered without hesitation, then lowered her voice even further, the rasp turning colder.
"From the firsthand intel I've gotten—if she can fully adapt to Ireland's turf, then in this race, purely on hard power, no one can touch her."
At that, the old woman's cloudy eyes turned deep and ominous.
"And… like you, she also has that thing—Domain."
That information had come from a legendary Uma Musume she'd once coached—someone long retired now—who'd let it slip after showing a rare "revelation."
"Ghk…"
For a moment, it was as if something clamped around Elmaamul's throat.
A second later, she stared at the photo again—at the gray-haired girl with those clear, unclouded eyes.
Then, in the next instant, she snatched the photo away, clenched it tight in her fist, and crumpled it into a ball.
"I understand!"
"But I'll win!"
Her voice throbbed with fierce obsession.
"A mere Uma Musume from some far eastern island nation… don't even think about surpassing me. This is my home turf!"
Humm—
In a heartbeat…
An invisible, terrifying presence—threaded with faint, unseen streams of vast, pitch-black light—surged through the gym.
In the darkness, only the girl's blood-red eyes remained, shining with a frightening resolve.
"I will win."
(End of Chapter)
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