The gates stood wide, polished metal catching the afternoon sun, inviting the young fillies to the track. From the preparation area, they stepped out one by one, running shoes tapping softly against the ground. Each and every stride carried a mixture of nerves, excitement, and something unspoken.
Hope.
Some walked with careful focus, faces calm and determined. Others bounced lightly on their toes, unable to contain their energy. Fingers tremor, ears twitched, and tails flicked as they glanced toward the stands. A few waved shyly, catching the cheers of spectators who waved back, hands raised and smiles wide.
"Over here! Riyalbakuran!"
"Look at Orian Arc's stride—she's perfect!"
"Ceres Zippa's so tiny! She looks like she could fly!"
Voices bubbled across the stadium, fans leaning over the railings to get a better view, cameras and phones raised to capture every step of these young and hopeful Uma Musumes. The chatter carried a sense of wonder, a shared belief that something remarkable might happen today.
As the all the fillies walked the final stretch toward the starting gates, the announcers' voices rose over the crowd, steady and inviting:
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year's Nojigiku Stakes!"
Applause rippled across the stands, warm and expectant.
"Today, we have a remarkable group of fillies! Fusaichi Richard, Orion Arc, Ceres Zippa, Pusaka, Lyran Veiru, Halcyon Mint, Northbridge Willow, Shining May-"
The list of names rolled on, some familiar, some new, each receiving murmurs of recognition or curiosity from the crowd. Spectators leaned forward, pointing, whispering, debating quietly among themselves about who might shine.
Some runners waved back, fingers fluttering, faces glowing with nervous pride. One or two laughed at the cheers, a little embarrassed, a little exhilarated. The track seemed alive, as the world lights up around to welcome their dream.
"Each of these first-years has shown great promise during preliminary trials and previous races," the announcer continued, his voice warm, carrying a quiet optimism. "Today is their chance to shine, to show just what they are capable of."
The group neared the gates. The crowd's hum grew to a gentle roar, energy buzzing across the stadium. And then the announcer's tone shifted, slightly slower, deliberate, charged with anticipation:
"But among this talented field…"
A pause, a rustle of papers over the speakers, drawing the ears of every runner and spectator alike. "…three runners have already drawn particularly strong attention from trainers, analysts, and fans."
A ripple ran through the crowd, soft gasps, murmurs, whispered predictions.
"Starting with our third favorite. Cassée Lumière!"
The other runners glanced toward the center of the lineup where Cassée stepped forward lightly, almost floating. Her neck-length golden hair shimmered as the afternoon sun caught it, tied up in a singular and elegant bun.
"A French-born Uma Musume with a tactical mind, a stalker running style, and a deadly finishing kick," the announcer continued. "She may not lead from the start, but she has a reputation for catching even seasoned G2 competitors off guard in the final stretch."
Cassée exhaled smoothly, posture relaxed. And then, with a smile that lit her entire face, she lifted a hand and waved toward the crowd, not hurried or shy, but with a warm, graceful ease that made it feel like she was greeting familiar friends.
"Merci, merci beaucoup! Thank you all!" she called, her voice bright but gentle, carrying easily over the hum of the stadium.
The response was immediate.
Cheers broke out in pockets, hands shot upward to wave back, and a scattering of Cassée's supporters near the rail shouted her name excitedly. Even the freshmen beside her couldn't help but cast small glances her way—some admiring, some studying her composure, a few smiling back.
A few runners straightened their own shoulders, quietly inspired.
Cassée tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with elegant precision, her expression bright but humble. "Let's all do our best today," she said softly to the girls near her, her accent gentle, encouraging.
"And now, the second favorite—Aurora Blaze!!!!!!!!!!"
The announcer's voice rang out across the stadium, bold and energized. But the moment the words second favorite echoed, a small ripple of confusion shot through the stands.
"…Second?"
"Wait, she's not the top pick? Isn't she an Aurora??"
"No way. Aurora Blaze is second?"
Gasps, startled murmurs, and incredulous whispers spread like wildfire.
Aurora Blaze.
Second favorite.
It didn't make sense—not to the fans who'd watched her rise, not to the trainers who followed her lineage closely, not to the freshmen and fellow runners who stole quick, intimidated glances at her fiery silhouette.
The announcer continued, voice steady despite the crowd's reaction:
"From the distinguished Aurora lineage, Aurora Blaze has already carved her place into the junior circuit by winning her debut race in four dominating lengths. With her blistering pace, relentless stamina, and a promising 2-0-0 record. As the winner of the previous Hakodate Junior Stakes, she proves to be one of the most feared uma musume in today's field!"
Aurora stepped forward, and the shock only intensified. The sunlight caught her fiery-gold hair, streaked with crimson, making it ripple like a living flame down her to her waist. Her eyes—sharp, intense, unblinking, held a command that should have belonged to a reigning favorite.
"She dominated Hakodate Junior—how is she not first?"
"What kind of monster got ranked above her?"
"This field must be insane…"
Even some of the Uma Musume lined up beside her exchanged nervous looks. One swallowed hard.
"She's… terrifying. And she's not even the top?"
"Then who is number one…?"
Aurora heard every whisper.
Every edge of disbelief.
Every question doubting her placement.
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
A breath—controlled, cool, slid from her lips. She stood taller, shoulders squared, refusing even the slightest wavering.
She did not wave.
She did not smile.
She did not seek the crowd.
She simply stared down the track, her focus burning hotter than the cheers, hotter than the confusion swirling through the stands.
The announcer's tone deepened, reverent:
"With a legacy as brilliant as her name, Aurora Blaze stands poised to challenge the field with unmatched drive and fierce determination. The second favorite—yet still a flame that could blaze past them all!"
A silence followed.
A waiting.
A breath held by thousands.
Because if Aurora Blaze—fiery, dominant, untouchable Aurora—was only number two…
Then whoever the first favorite was…
had to be extraordinary.
The announcer inhaled, and the entire stadium leaned with him.
"And finally… the first favorite of the Nojigiku Stakes—"
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Aurora Blaze lifted her chin, already preparing to step forward… until the announcer continued:
"LUNAR LIGHT!"
The reaction was immediate and explosive. Especially for the casual and general spectators.
"HUH?!"
"Lunar Light....? What family is she from?"
"No way, no way, Blaze isn't first?"
"Who is she, even?!"
The announcer pressed on, voice rising with building excitement:
"Lunar Light enters today's race with an undefeated record of five consecutive wins in the regional circuit! A perfect streak that stunned local trainers and quickly drew national interest! Analysts say her unique running form and style makes her one of the most mysterious yet promising talents we will see this year!"
Gasps. Whispers. Frenzied debate.
"She has five wins already?!"
"In a row? Undefeated?"
"Those are still regional races though, the competition in central are way past that..."
Eyes snapped toward the quiet girl standing near the back of the pack.
Lunar Light didn't raise a hand.
She didn't wave or pose.
Her grey hair stirred with the breeze, soft waves catching the light as the silver streaks threaded through it shimmered faintly. Her eyes, touched with gold in the sunlight, glowed like moonlight resting on still water.
Beautiful? Sure. But nothing about her screamed "favorite."
Aurora Blaze felt her heartbeat spike.
Five wins…?
In the countryside?
How does that matter?
Why is the spotlight on her and not me—Aurora Blaze, with lineage, achievements, and the central recognition?
Aurora stared, jaw tight.
Lunar's unshakable composure cut deeper than any boast could.
The girl didn't even acknowledge the announcement.
Didn't smile. Didn't preen.
She treated being the first favorite as if it were… nothing.
And that infuriated Blaze.
Is she mocking me?
Or does she just not feel pressure at all?
something was off.
Something about Lunar's presence made Aurora Blaze uneasy, like she was standing too close to a sleeping beast.
The announcer raised his voice one last time:
"With a flawless five-win debut record, a style unlike anyone else's, and talent that has captivated analysts and trainers nationwide—Lunar Light stands today as the top favorite for the Nojigiku Stakes!"
The stadium erupted.
Lunar Light only blinked, gaze lowered, hands at her sides.
Aurora Blaze burned.
And then—
"Runners… prepare!"
Boots shifted. Breath tightened. Nerves coiled.
And Aurora Blaze's eyes locked on Lunar Light with a silent vow.
I will not lose to you.
But Lunar didn't flinch beneath that burning glare.
Instead, she stepped forward.
Before anyone else could move, Lunar Light approached the starting gates—her posture straight, her breath steady, her expression unreadable. The crew member guiding the runners blinked in surprise when she stopped directly in front of her assigned stall.
"Ah.. already ready? Miss Lunar?" he muttered.
Lunar simply nodded once and slipped inside, movements fluid and utterly controlled. The metal gate clanged shut behind her, and suddenly the noise of the stadium dimmed, replaced by the muted echo of her own breathing.
Her fingers curled lightly around the rail in front of her.
Her gaze lowered.
Five wins. First favorite.
Eyes staring. Expectations gathering.
None of it mattered.
Not here.
Not inside this narrow metal box where her world became small, simple, familiar.
The truth was quiet, and it unfurled in her chest like a memory she kept buried under lock and key.
Running is the only place I don't have to pretend.
The crowd roared again.
Boots thudded as the others entered their stalls.
Aurora Blaze stepped in last, fury pulsing behind her silence.
But Lunar heard none of it.
She drew a slow, steady breath, feeling the familiar pulse beneath her ribs stir—a restless rhythm she had spent years learning to keep in check.
Her dim, yellow eyes caught the sunlight, turning into circle of golds that's brightening with each passing wind. She could feel the emotions she kept buried. Excitement, thrill, the sharp pulse of anticipation—rising like a tide, eager to spill free. But she did not let them escape. Not here. Not now. This moment demanded calm, control, composure.
Every muscle in her body tensed, every nerve alert, every heartbeat sharpening her focus. Those emotions, the ones she rarely allowed herself to show, would wait for the track, for the stretch of turf where she could finally run with them unguarded, where every step could carry the truth of what she really is.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting these rising feelings coil quietly through her, savoring it, letting it build.
"But first... Let me remember."