The novel Fūka Shirayuki had "magically edited" had a name that thundered across her previous life—
Battle Through the Heavens.
Anyone who'd touched web fiction knew it. Everyone.
For most readers, a good opening feels novel at first, but that feeling fades with time.
But Battle Through the Heavens was different.
Even today, going back to reread it, you'd still feel: damn, this is well written.
Thinking that, Fūka Shirayuki swiftly produced the opening chapter—three thousand words in total.
She picked a light-novel site that looked reasonably big, clicked "Publish New Book," and uploaded the opening.
Originally, she planned to write more. Her typing speed was fine—
the standard two thousand words per hour for a web novelist.
But the web-novel world had a saying:
[If you can't write two thousand words an hour, you're basically a third-grade cripple.]
…Back when Fūka Shirayuki was new, she didn't have that speed.
But hey—she was disabled.
So why didn't she write more?
Simple.
She was thinking about how to handle the "ecological niches" of the original characters.
She wasn't going to just copy-paste wildly and call it done. A normal writer only had to output words—easy. But a "plagiarizing" Fūka Shirayuki had to consider a lot more!
Because the Uma Musume Domain God System required popularity points.
Only when her popularity hit the threshold could she become "Divine Pen Ma Liang"—
whatever she wrote would happen in reality.
If she created original characters, it would be too slow…
She shook her head, frowning.
Better to use real people from this world. Black popularity was still popularity!
That would also make it easier for the novel's plot to become real.
But there was one thing she absolutely had to watch out for—
She could never expose her real identity!
She was terrified some "Old Feng" up in the heavens was watching—cloud-riding and all that!
So: pick real characters.
That was the plan.
Then she paused—because Fūka Shirayuki had never watched Uma Musume.
She'd only heard from friends that there was a super popular little horse-girl—what was her name again?
"Shandong Emperor"? The one who, even after the sun set three times, would still see it rise again?
Back when Fūka Shirayuki's legs were broken, she didn't really dare to watch stuff like that.
From the original owner's memories, she only vaguely knew a few thunderous names—
"The Emperor," "Golden Tyrant," and so on.
She decided she'd gather some info first, then write—integrate them and their race schedules into the plot.
But how would they react when they saw it?
Fūka Shirayuki thought, then said blandly:
"That's not my problem! Become nutrients on my path to godhood!"
She went online to be an emperor.
With absolute confidence, she hit publish.
The Uma Musume Domain God System immediately popped up again.
[Binding Work…]
[Bound Work: I Was Looked Down on by Everyone, but Then I Rose Up and Became the World's #1 Uma Musume!]
[Beginner Task: Bind a Work (1/1) — Completed!]
[Distributing Reward…]
[All base stats increased by 100!]
[Stat Comment: Holy crap—you're basically roadside trash. Anyone can walk up and kick you like crazy! Please, I'm begging you—write books!]
Seeing the comment, Fūka Shirayuki let out a cold laugh.
"Any who dare criticize my faults to my face—execute nine generations of their clan!"
[Beginner Task: Final]
[Please arrange a race with any Uma Musume as soon as possible, and fabricate her ending. Reach 100 popularity points and finish writing the plot to complete the task.]
[Reward: Perfect Recreation ×1]
[Reward: Random Hex Card Draw ×1]
Looking at the second task, Fūka Shirayuki—who'd just been lifting her little foot to kick the air—froze.
Oh ho. That's dramatic.
So we're fast-forwarding to "pick a victim," huh?
And… Hex cards?
What is this, Teamfight Tactics?
No—this is the era of Hex chaos brawls!
Then what if you randomly give me something like "King of Kings, Shoes-in-Shoes" or "By the Book: Jayce"?
What are those poor little horse-girls supposed to do?
Fūka Shirayuki raised her delicate eyebrow, suddenly worried for her future opponents.
Still…
She really did lack money.
Uma Musume got prize money for winning races, right?
If she waited for monthly royalties… she and her sister would probably be thrown out onto the street first.
So the urgent priority was winning her debut race and taking the debut prize.
Fūka Shirayuki nodded seriously, as if it all made perfect sense.
All right, then.
Time to pick a victim!
...
...
The cool warmth of an October Tokyo wind drifted through the city.
As a professional writer, Fūka Shirayuki had a habit—
She liked to walk while thinking about plot. Doing something that didn't require brainpower helped ideas spread, like walking.
Before she broke her bones, it had been a very, very long time since she'd gone out for air—or taken a walk.
Now, she was already walking along the roadside.
The night was quiet. No pedestrians—only her shadow, stretched long by streetlights, keeping her company.
This place was remote to an absurd degree.
They called it "Tokyo," but it was like those old Beijingers—can't afford the inner ring, but love cursing outsiders anyway. Even if you're basically a village girl born in the boonies, at least your ID starts with "Tokyo."
So if something happens later, you can still stubbornly say:
"Where do you outsiders think you're going—begging in Tokyo?"
But—
Even in a place this remote…
Fūka Shirayuki lifted her head indifferently and took in a massive illuminated screen.
It was playing a pre-race promotional video.
A purple-eyed girl looked down on everything, chin raised, as if she stood at the very top of all Uma Musume.
She declared:
"Before my tyranny—kneel and worship!!!!"
—[The Golden Tyrant: Orfevre!!!]
Even out here, every alley and street was filled with Orfevre's promos.
Fūka Shirayuki searched up the story, diligently absorbing it.
"A Triple Crown challenger… aiming to become the Triple Crown queen, huh…?"
October 2011—Kikuka-shō hadn't happened yet. Orfevre still wasn't the seventh glorious Triple Crown champion in history.
But her strength was undeniable. Her popularity was #1 without debate.
From that alone, Fūka Shirayuki could glimpse Uma Musume's status in this world.
It surpassed soccer and basketball—becoming the number one sport.
Her ponytail swayed gently behind her.
She stared at Orfevre, at the spotlight behind the "tyrant."
"Interesting," she said flatly. "Even in front of a god, someone dares call herself a 'tyrant'?"
"System."
System: "Hm?"
Summoned by Fūka Shirayuki.
"Can I write an ending where Orfevre falls to my hands?" she asked.
The system answered, a little troubled: "In theory, yes… but you need enough popularity points. For a top-tier Uma Musume like the Tyrant, you'd need a lot—there's no way you can reach it right now."
"Even if you bug abuse the beginner quest, races use a prize-tier system. You can't even enter the level of race the Tyrant runs."
"That's enough," Fūka Shirayuki said. "Then it means one day, I can defeat her."
"A tyrant? In front of a god—worthless."
She tapped her phone screen. The page stopped on the prize money for this year's Kikuka-shō:
149.8 million yen.
Fūka Shirayuki stood there silently, thinking.
When was the last time she took a walk? Ten years ago? A few years ago?
The memory was so blurred she couldn't recall.
But she could walk now.
She lowered her head and looked at her still-healthy legs.
For some reason—maybe it was instinct in her body—a fierce, primitive, irresistible nature rose inside her.
She wanted to breathe the same wind Orfevre breathed.
The wind of running.
She wanted to run—
and defeat Orfevre.
Rain began to fall over Tokyo.
In the distance, a cruise ship sounded its horn. The water's rhythm was disturbed by a giant mass moving—signaling the ship was leaving port.
Once, when Fūka Shirayuki watched the sea, many cruise ships had passed before her.
The piercing horn startled birds into flight.
Fūka Shirayuki took a step forward.
The cruise ship drifted off, sailing toward its next harbor.
Fūka Shirayuki walked steadily on the earth—faster and faster.
From a slow walk to a jog.
She staggered, almost falling.
But in her mind echoed scenes of herself collapsing into sobs and fury because of paralysis.
She remembered the moment she'd just been clinging to the wall to walk—
And now she was running.
All the despair and doubt surged back, then turned into excitement and gratitude, sprouting like a fever in her chest.
The cruise ship's horn still roared.
As if it were shouting:
"GO! GO! GO!"
"Run…" she murmured.
"RUN! RUN! GO! Run…"
"RUN! Run—run, Fūka Shirayuki! GO!"
By the end, she was practically screaming—hysterical, raw.
That soul-piercing wind nailed the once-dead life to a cross.
After roaring her prayer again and again—
her second life arrived, unexpected.
In that instant, she wanted to say goodbye to that powerless version of herself.
Even if her body dried up, she would reach the end of the earth—
to touch something eternal.
"GO!"
"Run, Fūka Shirayuki!"
Her voice nearly drowned out the cruise ship.
The horn still blared, roaring as if trying to overpower her—
but none of it mattered anymore.
What remained…
was only noise.
...
Just then, a vehicle happened to pass by.
Inside were two Uma Musume. Seeing someone running by the roadside, they couldn't help but glance over—professional curiosity.
Then one of them looked at the dashboard…
looked back out the window at Fūka Shirayuki…
and fell into thought.
…So strong?
And she had a name that thundered across Japan.
[The Emperor — Symboli Rudolf]
-------
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