The Japanese Derby was known as the brightest jewel in the crown of the Classic Triple Crown, and its value had long since transcended simple victory or defeat. It was not merely a race, but the reflection of an era—the dream stage every umamusume pursued throughout her life.
Three philosophical sayings had always circulated throughout the racing world. Like ancient prophecies, they gave each of the three Classics a unique soul.
"The fastest umamusume wins the Satsuki Sho."
The phrase was the purest hymn to speed. As the opening chapter of the Triple Crown, the Satsuki Sho was the exclusive battlefield of precocious prodigies. There, "fast" referred not only to running speed, but to the speed of development. The first flowers to bloom in spring often used a single burst to leave their opponents behind and crown themselves the earliest champion.
"The luckiest umamusume wins the Japanese Derby."
The Derby was the roulette wheel of fate. Its classic distance of 2,400 meters appeared fair, yet concealed countless mysteries. It did not rely upon pure speed like the Satsuki Sho, nor did it test stamina as absolutely as the Kikka Sho. It was a chaotic war in which power, tactics, timing, and luck intertwined perfectly. The strongest runner might not win, nor would the fastest necessarily triumph. Only an umamusume kissed by the goddess of fate could find the single road to victory within the vast field. This did not deny the importance of strength; it expressed the deepest respect for the Derby's unfathomable difficulty.
"The strongest umamusume wins the Kikka Sho."
When the autumn wind turned bleak, the long 3,000-meter journey became the proving ground of a true champion. Late-blooming prodigies defeated in the Satsuki Sho and Derby, along with stamina monsters possessing iron will, found their era there. The winner of the Kikka Sho deserved to be called the "strongest," for she had endured the dual trial of time and distance.
The fact that the Japanese Derby used "luck" as the key to ascension was enough to explain its difficulty.
It was a tremendous gamble, wagering every drop of sweat, every dream, and every honor an umamusume possessed. It required not only elite strength, but the perception to seize an opportunity amid chaos and the resilience never to surrender in despair.
At the classic peak of 2,400 meters, nearly every type of runner had room to display her ability, apart from certain specialists optimized purely for sprint speed.
This was a course created for the "all-rounder." It contained climbs that tested explosive force and descents that tested rhythm, a long straight that challenged stamina and consecutive turns that demanded technique. Runners could display their dominance, Betweener runners could wait for their chance, and Chasers could stage astonishing reversals. Like an enormous magnet, it drew every kind of prodigy to the broadest stage for the fiercest possible contest.
There was no absolute champion here, only eternal legends. Every umamusume who stood upon the Derby stage longed to carve her name into that monument to greatness.
...
The weather was perfect that day.
The blue sky seemed to have been carefully polished. Golden sunlight poured down, enveloping all Tokyo in a brilliant halo. A gentle breeze carried the scent of early-summer grass, along with the faint roar of tens of thousands of spectators from the racecourse.
Above the venue, a symphony of drums and gongs suddenly burst from the speakers, instantly igniting everyone's emotions. The hearts of Tokyo surged toward a boiling fervor. The music struck like war drums, pounding against every heart and awakening the passion hidden in people's blood.
Under the live-broadcast cameras, countless fans from every region gathered together. Some wore supporter shirts printed with umamusume names and painted their faces in the colors of their chosen teams. Others waved enormous flags or raised carefully crafted signs covered in blessings and expectations for their beloved runners. Together, they formed a flowing sea of color.
The stands thundered with voices, cheers and shouts intertwining into a wave of sound that seemed capable of overturning the entire racecourse. The air held the peculiar combined scent of sweat, popcorn, and drinks. Everyone waited with bated breath for the exhilarating moment to arrive.
The commentator's magnetic voice cut clearly through the uproar and emerged from the speakers like a single distinct thread, drawing everyone's attention.
"Welcome, everyone, to this year's Japanese Derby!" Hosoe's voice overflowed with infectious enthusiasm. "After a long wait, our annual grand race has finally returned! This is not only the stage of the umamusume's dreams, but a festival shared by everyone who loves the sport! I am your commentator, Hosoe, and joining us as our guest is Yamamoto-sensei."
"Hello, everyone. I'm Yamamoto, and I'm delighted to commentate on this Derby alongside Hosoe." Yamamoto's voice was steady and knowledgeable, carrying the rigor of a middle-aged man. "It is a great honor to witness this magnificent occasion."
"Yamamoto-sensei, may I ask what you think of this year's Derby?" Anticipation entered Hosoe's voice. "We all know every Derby offers countless points of interest..."
"Of course." Yamamoto paused, his tone turning solemn. "In my view, this field is exceptional. The quality of the entrants is extraordinarily high—truly a gathering of brilliant stars. From the undefeated Satsuki Sho champion to the powerful runners who have displayed astonishing ability in other races, any one of them could alter the course of this contest. This lineup genuinely deserves to be called a Golden Generation. I greatly look forward to seeing what kind of race they produce."
"You feel the same way, Yamamoto-sensei?" Greater excitement filled Hosoe's voice. "Indeed, simply looking at the entry list is enough to set one's blood boiling."
"Yes," Yamamoto affirmed. "This is the ultimate confrontation of speed, power, tactics, and will. I look forward to seeing what sparks they create upon the Derby stage."
"Thank you for that wonderful analysis, Yamamoto-sensei!" Hosoe's voice rose once more. "Next, allow me to briefly introduce today's course conditions."
Her voice acted like a switch, turning everyone's thoughts in the same direction.
Course Analysis and the "Prophets" in the Stands
"Everyone, please look at the large screen."
Hosoe abruptly raised her voice, drawing every gaze toward it.
The large screen, which had been showing the broadcast booth, instantly switched to a detailed three-dimensional overhead view of the course. The green turf, white railings, and winding 2,400-meter route appeared exceptionally clear beneath the sunlight.
"This is a 2,400-meter middle-distance course," Hosoe explained with professional rigor as the image moved. "The distance is already very close to certain long-distance races and fully deserves to be called a 'classic' distance. It places extraordinary demands upon a runner's overall qualities. She needs not only sprint-level explosive power, but also long-distance stamina and rhythm."
The virtual camera traveled rapidly along the course, simulating the umamusume's racing perspective.
"The Derby course is also famous for its climbs and descents. The uphill section before the third turn is especially important for opening gaps, while the descent after the fourth turn divides the field's positions for the final sprint. Finally comes Tokyo Racecourse's celebrated long straight, measuring 525 meters. It places tremendous demands upon a runner's rhythm and willpower. Moving too early can cause her to lose speed at the end, while sprinting too late may cost her the opportunity and leave victory beyond her reach..."
Hosoe's explanation became an invisible thread binding the spectators' thoughts to the course that had witnessed countless legends.
In the front row of the stands,
three men wearing clothes covered in stylized umamusume illustrations sat together in exaggerated poses, like three strange islands amid an ocean of fervor.
"The Japanese Derby," said a man with thick glasses in an almost solemn academic tone, "is the race that tests luck above all."
Beside him, a somewhat greasy-looking young man ate takoyaki and raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Tell us something we don't know. Luck? Everyone knows that."
"In other words," the bespectacled man continued his "lecture," ignoring the interruption, "this race is about who possesses the greatest luck. Strength? That's merely the admission ticket. The Three Goddesses' smile is what truly decides victory."
"What are you trying to say?" The middle-aged man on his other side impatiently tightened his fist, bending the glow stick in his hand.
Pretending not to notice his companions' impatience, the bespectacled man pushed his glasses up with an expression that asked how they could possibly fail to understand. "Don't you think one runner today looks as though the goddesses themselves favor her?"
"Who?"
The greasy young man and the middle-aged man asked in unison, their curiosity aroused despite themselves.
Rather than answer directly, the bespectacled man pointed toward an enormous promotional poster nearby. A chestnut-haired umamusume with eyes clear as water smiled at them from the image.
"Her!"
—Silence Suzuka.
"Look!" The bespectacled man's voice abruptly grew excited. "She recovered exactly one month before the Japanese Derby! Can that possibly be a coincidence? No! It means the Three Goddesses want her to compete in this race! Barring an accident, she's this year's 'Derby Girl'! The wheel of fate is already turning, and she is the chosen lucky one!"
"...And here I wondered what you were going to say." The greasy young man rolled his eyes and swallowed his last piece of takoyaki. "That's it? That's your 'divine prophecy'?"
"With the Derby's course conditions, her result today might be terrible for all we know."
"Silence!"
The bespectacled man shot to his feet and roared so loudly that nearby spectators turned to stare.
"How could people like you possibly understand?" Near-martyrdom covered his face. "You see only the coldness of data, but not the warmth of destiny! Silence Suzuka's return is a miracle in itself, and miracles descend only at the most unexpected moments!"
"Come on, you're obviously just a Suzuka fan. Why bother pretending otherwise?" The greasy young man shouted as though he had uncovered an earth-shattering secret.
The bespectacled man adjusted his glasses and tried to defend himself. "I am not a fan! I am merely... conducting a rational analysis!"
"You can't even admit you're her fan. What else can you do?" the middle-aged man mocked without mercy. "Rational? Your rational analysis is 'the Three Goddesses' smile'? You're nothing but a mindless Three Goddesses fanatic!"
"You... You people..." The bespectacled man's face turned crimson with anger, but he could find no suitable response. He waved his arms futilely. "I won't argue with common fools! Just wait! Today, Silence Suzuka will astonish every last one of you!"
Their argument was only one of countless little incidents in the stands, soon drowned beneath deafening cheers. The sunlight remained brilliant and the course silent, while the protagonists who would soon take the stage waited quietly in the entrance tunnel for fate to summon them.
...
At the entrance leading to the competitors' area,
the air was almost solid with tension.
It was the calm before battle.
Hana Tojo, Team Rigil's Trainer, still wore her signature stern expression, though barely perceptible concern hid between her brows.
Beside her stood the two aces about to compete—El Condor Pasa and Grass Wonder.
Hana Tojo first turned toward El Condor Pasa.
The "monster" from America!
El Condor Pasa appeared restless.
She was like a hunting cat trapped in a cage and desperate to break free.
"El, listen carefully." Hana Tojo's voice was low and powerful, every word like a nail driven into stone. "I know you crave victory, and I know you are confident about this race. But first, you must learn to control your emotions."
She stepped forward and stared directly into El Condor Pasa's eyes, where blue flames seemed to burn.
"The Derby is neither a sprint nor a mile. Even among middle-distance courses, it places exceptional demands upon a runner's overall ability. Your greatest weakness is allowing the surrounding atmosphere to carry you away. Remember this: no matter how fast the others run after the starting signal, and no matter whether Silence Suzuka and the others launch another Great Runner assault, you absolutely must not move too early! Do not let them disrupt your rhythm. Once you lose your composure, you will have no chance of winning this race!"
Hana Tojo had long since identified El Condor Pasa's fatal weakness—
the impulse to overwhelm every opponent in sight!
It often deprived her of calm judgment at critical moments.
In truth, Hana Tojo had not wanted El Condor Pasa to enter the Derby at all. El was still like an uncut gemstone: dazzling, but insufficiently mature. She lacked the experience of Special Week and Grass Wonder, and that inexperience could exact a terrible price.
El Condor Pasa did not answer immediately.
She bit her lip and clenched both fists until her knuckles whitened.
Silence lingered briefly.
Then she drew a deep breath and raised her head, dazzling confidence filling her eyes.
"Understood, Trainer." Though El Condor Pasa's voice was somewhat tense, her tone was exceptionally firm. "Leave it to me! I'll win this race in my own way!"
Looking at El Condor Pasa's high-spirited expression,
Hana Tojo felt her unease deepen rather than fade.
She understood the girl too well.
El Condor Pasa's confidence often concealed anxiety.
Hana Tojo could only pray silently.
She hoped El had genuinely listened instead of allowing the warning to pass straight through her ears.
After finishing with El Condor Pasa,
Hana Tojo turned, her expression becoming much gentler.
She looked at Grass Wonder, who had waited quietly beside them.
"Grass Wonder."
Hana Tojo lightly patted her shoulder.
"Run the way you want to run."
Hana Tojo felt there was little else she needed to tell Grass Wonder. This was not favoritism; Grass Wonder's current condition was simply astonishing. She had improved enormously through the recent special training. Her personality was also calm and steady, without El Condor Pasa's tendency to become carried away.
Grass Wonder might appear fixated on Special Week and even regard her as her sole rival, but Special Week was the greatest opponent in the field—the "monster" whose finishing kick had brought every other Satsuki Sho runner to despair. Focusing upon Special Week and building every tactic around defeating her was the correct competitive decision.
"Yes, Trainer."
Grass Wonder bowed slightly, displaying her signature impeccable smile.
"Go on. I'll be watching you from the stands."
...
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