Oguri's reaction was anything but slow.
The instant the gun fired, the powerful muscles in her legs, honed through countless races, erupted with explosive force.
Her body shot out like an arrow loosed from its bow!
On an 800m track, there was no need to worry about stamina—this was nothing but an all-out sprint from start to finish!
But just as her feet touched the turf—
A sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before struck her like a colossal, unseen tidal wave, overturning her very perception of reality!
The world around her changed!
Violent, unseeable streams of Domain light erupted outward, centered around Inari One and Fujimasa March!
One side blazed with crimson fire that seemed ready to burn everything to ash.
The other side roared with silver-white gales that looked strong enough to tear the atmosphere apart.
Two completely different Domains exploded without reserve from the start.
Their radiance intertwined, weaving together into a suffocating aura of flame and storm!
But in Oguri's eyes, none of that dazzling brilliance existed.
She had not awakened a Domain, and thus she could not see the radiant glow that represented a new era's power.
Yet her battle-hardened senses told her that the pressure pressing down on her was more terrifying than any vision could ever convey.
It was a pure, unparalleled oppression!
Like a wall built from fire and storm, crashing down upon her!
"What… is this?!"
Oguri clenched her teeth.
Her start had been perfect—flawless form, impeccable movement.
And yet, the instant that invisible wall swept over her, her body stalled for just a fraction of a moment.
That single hitch was enough for her to fall behind the two figures up ahead!
The overwhelming pressure battered her senses like angry waves.
When she raised her gaze, she saw—
Boom!
With thunderous steps, their strides shattered the ground, their bodies streaking forward as blazing lights that threatened to leave her far behind!
Left behind?
Me?
The instant that thought formed, an emotion she had not felt in so long exploded in her chest.
When… was the last time I lost?
It was back in Kasamatsu—losing to March.
Since arriving in Central, her unmatched strength had crushed all rivals her age, reigning over the Classic races.
No matter the situation, all she had to do was accelerate and the problem would vanish.
Being left behind? Losing? What was that?
Yet now, once again, she felt the suffocating weight of defeat.
And once again, it came from the same rival.
"March…!"
Her pupils dilated sharply.
A blazing, unshakable will exploded from the very depths of her being!
Her bones and blood ignited with the purest instinct of a competitor.
Lose? Don't make me laugh!!!
The thought detonated in her mind, erasing all shock and confusion.
"Ahhhhhh!"
A roar burst from deep in her throat as Oguri gritted her teeth so hard it seemed she might crush the very air itself.
Before her eyes, the two blazing streaks tore through the track, their speed so fierce the air itself shrieked as if being shredded apart.
Crimson and silver left behind dazzling afterimages, divine steeds trampling sky and earth alike!
"You're not getting away!"
Oguri snarled.
Bang!
Her legs erupted like a volcanic eruption, stomping the turf with such violence that clods of dirt exploded outward with every step.
She ignored the crushing pressure that seemed intent on breaking her.
Ignored the primal fear gnawing at her body.
Her white-haired figure leaned forward to the extreme, every stride and arm swing cutting the air with savage resolve.
She stopped thinking about what this mysterious force was.
The only thought left was—Catch them!
With the legs that had conquered countless tracks—catch them!
Her battle-hardened body, the legendary flesh that bore an era's greatest talent, erupted in full.
No tricks, no holding back—only raw, primal power!
Every muscle burned, her heart thundered like a war drum, blood surging in perfect rhythm with her limbs.
She smashed through that invisible wall of flame and storm by sheer will and monstrous physique!
Within mere seconds, she clawed her way up and latched herself onto the blazing wake of those two Domains.
She became the third streak of light, trailing just behind the silver and crimson brilliance.
"…You really are unbelievable, Oguri."
Watching the three streaks tear through the track, Kuroha couldn't help but sigh.
This was the pure astonishment of seeing Oguri's outrageous physical ability.
In the original timeline, Oguri had done the same—forcing herself through sheer willpower and physical might.
Even when both Tamamo Cross and Obey Your Master had activated their Domains, she had still clung to their backs, refusing to be shaken off.
It was absurd.
And now, that miracle replayed itself before his eyes.
"But… can you keep it up?" Kuroha whispered.
Her muscles screamed.
This wasn't like her usual late-stage burst.
Now, she was squeezing every ounce of strength from her body—every step, every swing wrung from the deepest reserves.
That short explosion had torn through the invisible wall, letting her catch those blazing streaks.
But the price was a burning, searing pain that weighed down her body.
Up ahead, crimson flame and silver storm twisted together, devouring the air.
Even trailing behind them, the residual shockwaves pressed on her lungs, dragging at her legs with suffocating weight.
A Domain wasn't static—it was a ceaseless engine, propelling Inari and March forward at inhuman speed until the Domain dissipated.
But for a girl without a Domain?
How long could such a reckless burst truly last?
Harsh breaths scraped past her clenched teeth—not roars anymore, but the sound of stamina draining away.
Yet the two up ahead maintained their blistering speed, even seeming… to widen the gap again.
She wanted to push further, to go beyond her limits once more.
But reality was merciless.
Her legs weakened, each stride slower, her pace slipping away in a slow yet unstoppable decline.
Ahead, March's storm-filled eyes glowed with cold, merciless brilliance.
The strengths of both "True Self Mode" and "Passion Mode" fused perfectly within her.
Right now, she was the ideal Domain wielder.
"…Oguri."
March sensed the pressure at her back vanish—the one who had clung so desperately for the first 400m was gone.
The feeling was strange, as though some deep obsession had finally dissolved.
Just a few months ago, she had been the one desperate to catch up—obsessed with closing the gap during the Tokyo Derby, obsessed with Oguri's back.
But now—
Just like that day in Kasamatsu.
Same 800m track. Same two rivals.
"First, I won. Then, you won…"
"And now—it's my turn to take it back!"
"Oguri, I'll be waiting for you. I believe—you'll rise again!"
Silver light blazed even brighter in March's eyes, clashing with Inari's blazing Domain without yielding.
(End of Chapter)
"March, you want to beat me?!"
At that moment, Inari's eyes were calm, but the wild, ferocious aura around her was no illusion.
If we don't try, how will we know?!
The ever-rising battle spirit in Fujimasa March's gaze said everything.
"Good!"
Inari let out a bold, hearty laugh as her crimson Domain blazed forth, as if it would ignite the entire track!
The raging fire seemed no longer an illusion, but a solid wave of scorching heat, slamming fiercely into March's silver storm.
BOOM!!!
Two opposite yet equally domineering Domains clashed head-on at high speed!
With Professor of Curvature, Turf Condition: Good, Ode of the Wind…
Her steps grew stronger, as if she was riding atop the storm itself.
Her fully-controlled "Passion Mode" let her use every skill she had polished through blood and sweat, even within the unleashed Domain.
Inari's lips curved in a grin. Her controlled Domain tore apart the track environment with overwhelming momentum.
Accelerate! Faster! And faster still!
Like thunderous hammers striking down, the two Uma Musume—both within their Domains—fought savagely, racing in a clash at the very peak!
Half the race was already gone.
The finish line drew near.
The crimson flames finally burned through the storm!
With a fiercer, more unyielding drive, Inari surged past March and crossed the finish first.
Just one horse length behind, March followed across.
And another 1.5 lengths later, Oguri thundered in, passing the finish close behind them.
"Huff… hahh… hhh…"
Oguri ran a few more steps past the line, carried by inertia.
She hadn't burned out her stamina.
Her ragged breaths came from the brutal four-hundred-meter chase at her absolute limits.
Now that her body was relaxing from the overdrive, it was reacting with trembling, releasing all that strain.
But heavier than the ache in her muscles was the weight pressing on her heart.
She had lost.
The cold truth, undeniable, settled on her chest like an iron block.
Since Kasamatsu, this was the first time she had tasted defeat again—now, after rising to Central and standing as an overwhelming champion.
And the ones who beat her were…
A wave of frustration rose within her—only to vanish, replaced by a far hotter determination!
Just moments of breathing later, she straightened her posture, her gaze locking firmly on the silver-haired girl ahead.
March stood there, chest heaving as well. The race hadn't been easy for her either.
"I won, Oguri~" March said with a light laugh.
Oguri blinked, then smiled back.
"Yeah, I lost!"
Two rivals who had once taken different paths now stood side by side again.
Not far away, Inari stood next to Kuroha, sipping water, muttering in annoyance.
"Tch. I was the one who won, you know."
Kuroha chuckled and patted her head.
"Alright, alright. That makes it perfect, doesn't it?"
"Hmph, that didn't sound sincere at all!"
"Fine, I'll give you a reward tonight. How's that?"
"…Reward?"
Inari froze for a second, cheeks reddening slightly as she took another sip of water, clearly imagining something.
"My massage techniques have improved a lot lately," Kuroha said proudly. "They're on a whole different level now!"
"You'll be the first Uma Musume to experience them, Inari-chan!"
Inari rolled her eyes at him with a deadpan look, too lazy to even move, letting him mess up her hair.
The training match ended.
Oguri, instead of collapsing, looked like she had just finished warming up—blood boiling, eyes shining, ready to run another two laps.
But Berno Light immediately pushed her back down into her seat.
"Berno—!" Oguri whined, looking pitiful as though her eyes were tearing up.
"No!" Berno Light snapped, folding her arms in an "X" across her chest.
"I only fell for that once an hour ago. I'm still in sage mode right now!"
Right there on the spot, she rejected her.
The "gray monster" of the outside world could only sit sulking in her chair, nibbling on the snacks brought by the maids.
Later, Kuroha gathered everyone together.
The race had lasted less than a minute, but many Uma Musume at the training camp had witnessed it.
Aside from Sakura Chiyono O, who could faintly understand what had happened, most of the others were either confused or utterly lost.
To prepare for future lessons, Kuroha explained clearly—what exactly the Domain was.
For Oguri and Berno Light, this became just another lecture.
"So basically, both Inari-senpai and March have already mastered the Domain, while Chiyono once managed to glimpse it by chance," Mejiro Ardan summarized softly.
Her voice carried a weight not easy to notice.
As a daughter of the prestigious Mejiro family, she wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of Domains.
Here and there, ancient family records and the elders' words spoke of it—something only the topmost of legendary Uma Musume could touch.
But for Kuroha to analyze it so systematically, so clearly, and present it as a training goal—this was a first.
The weight of it pressed down firmly on her chest.
"Yes, exactly," Kuroha nodded. His gaze swept over the group—faces of shock, confusion, excitement—and he smiled.
"So my expectation for all of you is this: every one of you, awaken a Domain!"
"This will be a vital part of your training going forward."
The moment he said it, the group fell dead silent.
Then suddenly, a tiny hand shot up, waving eagerly.
"Trainer, trainer! Does that include Teio too?!"
The cute little girl with the crescent bangs—Tokai Teio—was the first to ask.
Still young, not yet in her True Blooming stage, she was fearless.
"Isn't Teio my Uma Musume too?" Kuroha said sternly.
"Of course!" Teio puffed out her chest proudly. "You're the trainer of the future undefeated Triple Crown winner, Teio-sama!"
"Then why are you even asking?"
He scooped her up into one arm and squeezed her soft cheeks.
"Ardan, Chiyono."
"Yes, Chiyono here!"
"Trainer."
Sakura Chiyono O and Mejiro Ardan answered quickly.
Kuroha looked at the two girls from Central Tracen Academy who had chosen to train under him. He paused before saying:
"Once summer camp ends, you'll be returning to your academy."
"Until you officially transfer, you still belong to your original trainers. For the next few months, we may not train together often."
"So while I'm not there, you must follow the training plans I've made for you. Don't slack off."
"I'll be checking later!"
The two nodded—one excitedly, one with grace.
Nearby, Berno Light stood uneasily among this group of future champions.
"Oguri… what do you think?" she asked nervously.
"Mm?"
Oguri tilted her head, cheeks puffed slightly as she chewed. After swallowing, she answered innocently:
"Well… when we go back, just show me directly."
Thinking for a bit, she added, as if it was obvious:
"If I don't learn it, I'll just run with March a few more times. That should do it."
"…Can it really be that simple?" Berno Light muttered, dumbfounded.
Finally, Kuroha clapped his hands. The camp's gathering came to an end.
That day's race had been a coincidence.
In the days that followed, Kuroha gradually lowered the training intensity, letting the girls relax and savor the last joys of summer.
Simple, fulfilling days passed one after another.
And at last, the two-month summer camp drew to its close.
(End of Chapter)
August 30th.
The long-awaited holiday had reached its end.
On the final day before the camp concluded, Kuroha scheduled no training at all.
Instead, he announced a farewell beach barbecue party in front of the villa.
As night fell, bonfires lit up the shoreline. The sea breeze, tinged with salt, swept over every corner of the sand.
Kuroha took charge at the grill. Meat skewers sizzled as rich aromas rose, carried by the wind across the beach.
The girls sat around the fire, sharing juicy skewers and chilled drinks. Laughter mingled with the rhythm of the waves.
Every now and then, Kuroha turned the food and joined their conversations. They reminisced about the camp—from grueling training sessions to amusing accidents—faces glowing warmly in the firelight.
Someone suggested an impromptu performance, and the beach became their stage. The Uma Musume sang and danced beneath the stars, accompanied by applause and cheers.
As the night deepened, the bonfire illuminated their reluctant smiles. This beautiful summer memory was one they would forever treasure.
The next day.
The "Summer Island" stood quiet.
The villa rooms were cleared out.
The girls, dressed again in their travel clothes, carried their luggage to the pier.
Gone was the sweat and panting of training, gone the playful noise of rest. The silence made everyone uneasy.
Even Tokai Teio, usually bouncing about, simply nudged a pebble with her toe, staring silently at the horizon.
Mejiro McQueen stood gracefully beside her suitcase, gazing at the sunset-stained ocean, as if etching the final view into her memory.
Inari and Fujimasa March stood shoulder to shoulder, wordless. Yet the bond forged through countless clashes and shared battles against rivals was stronger than words.
Sakura Chiyono O stood lightly beside Mejiro Ardan, a soft smile on her face.
This summer, she had witnessed her friend's rebirth, and rediscovered the joy of fighting together.
"All ready?"
Kuroha broke the quiet with a calm voice.
"Of course!"
"No problem!"
Voices rose in unison, strong and certain.
After confirming the luggage and headcount, Kuroha smiled with satisfaction.
"This summer, you all did incredibly well."
His words weren't loud, but each girl heard them clearly.
"The sweat you shed, the exhaustion you endured—none of it will go to waste."
His eyes swept across their faces, filled with youth and determination.
"Rest well for the next couple days. Then… get ready for autumn."
Their resounding reply echoed across the sea.
Even Oguri and Berno Light, not originally his Uma Musume, couldn't help but join in.
When everyone boarded the yacht, the horn sounded long and deep.
The girls crowded the railings, waving at the island behind them.
"I'll be back next year!" Teio shouted, waving with all her might at the island that had witnessed their sweat, laughter, and growth.
McQueen, standing at her side, brushed back her wind-blown hair and muttered, "The location for next year's camp might not even be here."
"Then I don't care." Teio pouted for a moment. "If it's not during summer break, then McQueen, you'll bring me back here on holiday!"
The "elementary team" was back to bickering.
Kuroha watched their small backs with a smile, then raised his eyes to the horizon.
The noise and battles of summer would now remain sealed in memory, on this "Summer Island."
...
Tokyo. In front of Oi Tracen Academy.
A luxury minibus pulled to a stop.
Click. The door opened.
Three figures stepped off.
"Finally, we're back!"
Inari stretched her arms wide, savoring the sight of the familiar campus.
March stretched as well, a faint smile tugging her lips as she looked at the track and buildings she knew so well.
Under the summer sun, students already back early strolled the tree-lined paths.
Some Uma Musume lounged on benches, sharing snacks and chatting brightly about their plans for the semester.
Oi Tracen buzzed with a fresh energy, where the afterglow of summer camp mixed with the promise of a new term.
Kuroha was the last to step off.
"Alright, unload your luggage," he said. "Take a few days to rest and ease into the new semester."
The girls immediately set to work, opening the storage compartments and moving their belongings with practiced ease.
Mejiro Ardan and the others from Central had already disembarked earlier.
Inari and March didn't carry much—just clothes and training gear. After a quick goodbye with Kuroha, they headed to their dorms.
Not long after, Kuroha returned to his own dorm, tidied up, then changed into neat casual clothes. He made his way to the administration building of Oi Academy.
The summer camp had ended. As a trainer belonging to Oi, he naturally had to report back.
The office bustled—staff walked briskly, phones rang constantly, the air full of paper and ink.
Just as Kuroha was about to check in, a hearty, familiar voice called from behind.
"Yo, Kuroha, just got back?"
He turned to see a strong, kimono-clad woman—Umehara Tatsuko. Beside her stood her younger brother, Umehara Taro, whom Kuroha had only met once before.
"Hello, Tatsuko-neesan," Kuroha greeted, pleasantly surprised. "Yes, just got back. Was about to report in."
"Long time no see, Kuroha-senpai," Taro added seriously.
Tatsuko clapped him firmly on the shoulder, eyes filled with warmth.
"How was your first summer camp? You look well—don't tell me something good happened?"
Kuroha chuckled, shaking his head. "The girls worked hard. They gained a lot this summer."
They walked together to the office, completed the check-in smoothly, and a teacher reminded him:
"Welcome back, Trainer Kuroha. The autumn racing schedule has been released—don't forget to plan ahead."
After thanking him, Kuroha left with Tatsuko.
Walking under the trees, Tatsuko asked:
"By the way, didn't you already pass the Central Trainer License written exam months ago? It's been almost three months—still no license?"
Kuroha sighed helplessly. "Not even close. The interview hasn't even been scheduled yet."
Even in his past life, the longest exam he knew of was the national civil service exam, which took months at most. But the Central License process shattered his understanding.
Three months later, and not even a candidate list had been posted online.
Tatsuko scowled, scoffing. "Hmph. Those Central URA officials love their bureaucracy. Dragging their feet like that just makes me furious."
Kuroha smiled faintly. "No point rushing. We can only focus on what we can control."
"By past years, the interview list should come in October, with final approvals in November."
"That means autumn is our chance. I'll put all my effort into March—make sure she secures the South Kanto Triple Crown. Real results will speak louder than anything."
"…The Triple Crown, huh."
At that, even Tatsuko's usual temper cooled slightly. She gave him a teasing grin.
"You do know, if March wins the Tokyo Crown in October, what that means, right?"
Kuroha's expression stayed calm. His answer was certain:
"Of course. She'll be the first in history—since the Triple Crown was established—to complete the South Kanto Triple Crown!"
Oi Tracen was the heart of local racing, second only to Central. Its famed South Kanto Triple Crown was the highest honor in local circuits.
Even after later reforms that created a national Dirt Triple Crown, the South Kanto series simply shifted its final race to the Japan Dirt Derby in place of the Tokyo Crown.
In other words, the South Kanto Triple Crown was the very origin of the Dirt Triple Crown.
Its weight and prestige spoke for themselves.
If March achieved that unprecedented feat, she would stand as the undisputed strongest of all local Uma Musume.
"Exactly!"
Tatsuko slapped his back with a ringing smack, laughing boldly. "That's the spirit! You never let me down!"
Kuroha staggered a step forward, rubbing his back with a wry smile. "Thanks for your faith, Tatsuko-neesan."
"So don't worry about rushing. Let's focus on what's in front of us."
He looked out at the academy grounds, where girls trained under the autumn sun, and his eyes shone with resolve.
"This autumn… let them run without regrets."
(End of Chapter)
While his girls rested over the next two days, Kuroha didn't remain idle.
Today, aside from the usual study and training plans, he logged into the official site to check the recently released autumn race schedule.
Among his team's two confirmed entries:
Fujimasa March would, of course, head for the Tokyo Crown in October—seeking the glory of the South Kanto Triple Crown.
As for Inari…
Kuroha scanned the list for an appropriate race.
At first, he looked at one she had entered in the original timeline—her final local race, the Tokyo Daishoten.
But this year's schedule placed it on December 29, clearly too late for the team's plans.
"A shame the Breeders' Cup hasn't been held here yet… If it had, there'd be plenty of options."
He sighed.
In later eras, the Breeders' Cup would add three races at Oi Racecourse, covering Short, Mile, and Medium distances, all G1s.
But at this time, none of those existed.
That left only one choice.
"The Tokyo Kinen…"
A prestigious dirt race at Oi, 2400m, the richest and most symbolic of all local races. Its status was akin to the Arima Kinen, though held earlier in the year.
This year's Tokyo Kinen fell on November 3rd.
It landed just before Kuroha's deadline for Central—he could delay a few days if necessary.
"Alright. It's decided."
He quickly signed March up for the Tokyo Crown and Inari for the Tokyo Kinen.
After submitting, he exhaled softly.
"Besides those two, maybe I'll add some lower-intensity races depending on their condition."
As his gaze lingered on the month of November, he suddenly paused.
November…
There was another race—one deeply important to him.
Click.
He closed the local race listings and opened Central's schedule.
Scrolling straight to November—
There it was.
November 27. International G1—the Japan Cup.
Kuroha stared at the words.
Memories flooded back: her earnest request to join his team, Tarō's report, her unshakable resolve.
"By late October, Obey Your Master should arrive in Tokyo to adapt to the track."
"…When she does, I'll meet her."
He made his decision.
...
USA.
On the West Coast, at a training ground.
"Hahhh… hahhh…"
A golden-haired Uma Musume had just finished a lap. She sipped water, breathing heavily.
Other girls ran nearby, sweat glistening in the sun.
Her shoes pressed into the soft turf. Obey Your Master fell silent, her expression unreadable.
"The West Coast's fast turf… It's very close to Tokyo's. Easy to adapt."
She muttered quietly, her eyes thoughtful.
"With training here… when I go to Tokyo, my adjustment period will be much shorter."
Just then, an arm looped casually around her neck.
"Hey, Amane!"
A cheerful voice rang out.
The newcomer's outfit clashed sharply with Amane's modest tracksuit—
a cropped top, denim shorts, and long, flawless legs, radiating boldness and charm.
"Too bad about your last race! If you'd prepared better, the outcome might have been different~"
She winked playfully, but the mocking undertone was impossible to miss.
Obey Your Master said nothing.
She knew better than to reply—responding only gave these snide comments more fuel.
Here in the US, the atmosphere was nothing like in the East.
At Central Tracen, rivals might fight hard in races, but off-track friendships often ran deep.
Here, contempt stayed contempt—before, during, and after races.
Sarcasm was routine.
"…Boring."
Seeing her silence, the flashy Uma Musume shrugged and waved.
"Later, Amane. Good luck. Maybe one day you'll actually win a G1!"
She walked off, leaving Amane in quiet.
But nearby runners had noticed.
"Who's that? Never saw her before."
"Oh, her? That's the one who keeps losing G1s. Something like 'Obey… whatever.' Not important."
"New here, right?"
Others chimed in more harshly:
"Losing streak, huh? And now she's on turf?"
"Guess she's all about appearances."
"Why not just grow grass at home if she loves it that much?"
"Haha!"
Unlike Tokyo, where turf races reigned, White Eagle's racing tradition centered on dirt.
Even its prestigious Triple Crown was dirt-only. Turf races existed, but were rare, especially at high-level venues like this West Coast course.
So seeing a G1 loser training on turf only invited scorn.
Obey Your Master listened to their words, then stepped firmly on the turf, setting her bottle aside.
She walked back onto the track.
Just as she prepared for her next lap, a calm voice stopped her.
"Ready for the Japan Cup?"
She turned slightly.
It was her trainer—an older man in a suit.
She stayed quiet for a moment, golden hair swaying in the breeze. Then her eyes hardened with resolve.
"…Yes. I'm nearly adjusted."
The old man chuckled softly.
"Forget their noise. Your stage was never here."
"Your goal is that Japans' G1. That's where you'll shine."
"That trainer—Kuroha—I've heard of him through Taro. He's an exceptional one. Show him your worth."
"…I will." Her teeth clenched, eyes burning. "I'll win the Japan Cup. And I'll do it fair and square!"
She turned back onto the turf, her stride heavier, stronger.
Each blade of grass crushed beneath her shoes whispered of her determination.
I will not lose. No matter who I face.
That promise in Tokyo—the vow she had made—would not be broken.
She would not allow herself to fail.
(End of Chapter)
The warmth of summer was swept away by the autumn breeze.
Nearly half a month had passed since the end of the unforgettable summer camp, and Oi Tracen Academy's new term was already underway.
The island days were over, and both Inari and Fujimasa March gradually returned to the academy's steady, fulfilling routine.
Having endured the trial by fire of summer training, both their mentalities and strength had been reborn. They now threw themselves into practice with unprecedented enthusiasm.
Because they hadn't raced in nearly three months—including the camp period—Kuroha had entered them in lower-level local races a few days earlier, just so they could regain the feeling of competition.
The results were obvious.
Both girls crushed their fields with overwhelming ease, effortlessly taking first place.
It was nothing more than a warm-up.
Though, for Kuroha, it also meant nearly 100 system points gained.
He hadn't decided what new skill to exchange for yet.
For now, his girls were busy enough just training their Medium Distance Aptitude and Long Distance Aptitude, along with Domain practice and strength/technique work. There was no spare time to add another new regimen.
That afternoon, under the warm sun, Kuroha stood at the trackside with hands in his pockets, watching intently.
On the field, Inari and March were running pace work, their forms sharpened by summer heat and sweat, brimming with power.
Buzz-buzz~
His phone vibrated.
"Hmm?"
Unlocking it, he saw a notification from Oi Academy.
Opening the push, his eyebrows rose at the headline:
'Joint Announcement on Promoting the Unified Development of Central and Local Uma Musume Racing' — Issued jointly by the Central URA Association and the Local NAR Associations.
"…A joint notice from Central and Local?"
His face grew serious. He tapped it open and read.
The more he read, the stranger his expression became.
The language was formal, but in plain words, the meaning was this:
[Because Central Tracen offers few dirt races, capped at only G3 level, many outstanding Central dirt specialists lack races to run.
To improve local Uma Musume strength, boost nationwide attention for local racing, and break the stereotype that 'grass is supreme'—
Starting next month, Central Tracen Uma Musume will officially be allowed to enter local dirt races.]
At the bottom were the signatures of both the Central URA and every Local NAR head—a wall of authority.
Kuroha's expression grew complicated.
He wasn't too worried about a flood of Central rivals suddenly crashing into local races next month.
Though effective immediately, the timing was too tight. October was about to begin. Even if they wanted to, Central girls would struggle to secure entry slots at this point.
Besides, adapting to local dirt required time.
Realistically, in all of Central right now, the only one who could immediately adapt and still bring top-class power would be Oguri—the "gray monster."
But she was surely preparing for the Autumn Tenno Sho and her showdown with Tamamo Cross. No chance she'd come waste time on local dirt.
No, the real purpose of this reform was clear:
Central wanted its dirt girls ready to overlap with next year's local Dirt Triple Crown and other major events.
That was easy enough to deduce.
What unsettled Kuroha was the speed of the reform.
"…This fast?"
He thought.
Then he remembered something.
In the original "Cinderella Gray," there had been a dirt race arc back when March was still in Kasamatsu.
A Central Uma Musume had entered, crushing the field.
Timeline-wise, this matched perfectly.
"…I see."
The last of his doubts faded.
This world's pace of change wasn't Earth's. Even technology updated every few months. Early reforms weren't strange at all.
Relaxed, he scrolled further into the announcement.
Most details concerned technicalities of combined schedules, entry points, and qualification adjustments.
Then his eyes caught a bolded line, practically shouting for attention:
[Supplement: Effective immediately, to enhance spectacle and honor, in addition to Central G1 races, all local Jpn1 races will also allow Uma Musume to compete in their official Winning Outfits.]
"…Winning Outfits?"
He blinked, staring for several seconds.
In Central, those outfits were symbols of status and pride, reserved for the grandest stages.
And now, they would extend to Jpn1-level local races.
"…Didn't see that coming."
For a moment he was stunned—then smiled.
This was very good news.
He pocketed his phone and turned back to the track.
Inari and March had just finished their high-intensity run, now cooling down along the outer lanes.
"Oi, Inari, March!"
His voice carried through the intercom. "Take a break and come here."
The two exchanged a glance, then jogged toward the half-open training room.
"Trainer!"
Inari spoke first, her voice rough but energetic after exertion. "Are you changing our training load again?"
March dabbed sweat with a towel. "Is something the matter, Trainer?"
"Yes. Actually… it's good news."
He waited for both pairs of eyes.
"I just received a notice forwarded from the academy. A joint announcement from URA and NAR."
"…An announcement?" Inari tilted her head, confused.
"A major rule change," Kuroha said softly.
"Starting next month, Central Tracen Uma Musume will be permitted to enter local dirt races."
"…Eh?! Central girls are coming to locals?!" Inari's eyes widened.
"Yes," Kuroha nodded. Then added, "Though it won't affect you. In two months, you'll be in Central yourselves. For the short time left, Central entries in local races are unlikely."
At least, in theory.
Though Kuroha knew better than to discount the possibility of some reckless trainer barging in anyway.
"…There's more."
His lips curved faintly.
"The notice also added—starting now, Jpn1 local races will permit Uma Musume to wear their Winning Outfits."
"…Winning Outfits?!"
Inari and March gasped together.
Seeing their adorable, shocked faces, Kuroha chuckled.
"Yes. Winning Outfits.
That means, Inari—for your Tokyo Kinen. And March—for your Tokyo Crown. You'll both wear them!"
"Waaahhh!!"
They squealed with joy.
"I thought only Central G1s allowed it!"
Inari's twin-tail bounced as her eyes sparkled. "Trainer, when do we get ours made?! I want a cool style!"
March nodded, her gaze also burning with expectation.
Kuroha looked into their eager eyes, thought a moment, then smiled.
"If you're in a rush—how about this afternoon? I'll check with Tatsuko, see if she know a good shop."
"Heheh!" Inari laughed with hands on hips. "Trainer's always so quick to act!"
(End of Chapter)
After discussing it with his two horse girls, Kuroha consulted a few familiar trainers during their training breaks.
Following their advice, he chose a well-known tailor shop in Tokyo, famous for making winning outfits for Uma Musume. The shop had a great reputation, with plenty of experience and glowing reviews.
That afternoon, once training ended, Kuroha drove Inari and Fujimasa March to the commercial street where the shop was located.
As for Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen's training, he asked Mejiro Ardan to notify them that today's session was canceled.
Before long, he followed the navigation system and arrived at the shop.
The shop was inside a stylish street-side building. The windows displayed several glamorous winning outfits of different styles, shimmering brilliantly under the sunlight.
Pushing open the heavy glass door, the clear sound of wind chimes rang out.
Inside, the shop was spacious and bright. The air carried the clean scent of new fabric mixed with a faint ironing smell.
Design sketches, fabric samples, and photos of famous Uma Musume wearing winning outfits from this very shop to win major races decorated the walls.
Kuroha even spotted a commemorative photo of this era's so-called "Strongest Active Uma Musume" — Tamamo Cross.
At that moment, an elderly lady with graying hair, gold-rimmed glasses, and an elegant demeanor was carefully measuring a half-finished piece on a mannequin with a soft tape measure.
Hearing the door open, she looked up with a gentle smile.
"My, what a busy day. More customers already?"
She put down the tape and walked over, her eyes carefully recognizing Kuroha before smiling kindly.
"Oh, I see. You must be from the training camp, right? And these two lovely young ladies must be your horse girls."
"That's right. I'm Kuroha. Senior Ginjirou Musaka recommended me to your shop."
Kuroha bowed politely.
"Hehe, so you're that young trainer."
"Madam Suzu, I'll be troubling you."
"Not at all. It's my honor to design winning outfits for rising stars."
Her eyes turned to Inari and Fujimasa March.
"Ladies, please follow me over here. Let's discuss your ideas first."
The old tailor led them to a cozy seating area with a large table, fabric albums, and soft sofas.
Kuroha sat nearby, watching with interest.
"I want something cool! With a sense of power!" Inari blurted out immediately, hands gesturing dramatically as her twin ponytails swayed. She thought for a moment, then added, "And… maybe something with a bit of tradition too."
After all, this would be her very first winning outfit, so it had to carry some meaning.
Fujimasa March, in contrast, was calmer. She flipped carefully through the fabric samples, her fingers brushing across textures.
"I'd like something… simple."
"As for the color…" She thought briefly of her nickname. "Silver white. That should work."
Madam Suzu sketched quickly in her notebook as she listened, occasionally nodding or asking guiding questions.
Once the overall direction and main color scheme were settled, she took up her soft tape measure again and began carefully recording every dimension — shoulder width, arm length, bust, waist, hip, leg length, ankle circumference — every number meticulously written down.
Whether the final outfit was ergonomically designed didn't matter. Winning outfits were a special existence in the Uma Musume world. Whatever their final look, they would never hinder running performance.
Though the process was detailed and a little long, Inari and Fujimasa March actually enjoyed it.
Time slipped by.
After about an hour, Madam Suzu finally had the drafts ready.
Seeing they were done, Kuroha put away his phone and walked over curiously.
Inari's outfit didn't differ much from the original timeline's design — a Japanese-style purple dress with printed patterns, tassels, and matching accessories, lively yet traditional.
Fujimasa March's outfit, meanwhile, was a pure white tailored dress with silver streaks. The asymmetrical coat-like skirt was shorter on one side, flowing long on the other. A silver belt cinched her waist, exuding the aura of a strong warrior.
Kuroha chuckled to himself. This looks straight out of a tokusatsu hero show.
"All right, we've set the base design and taken the measurements." Madam Suzu smiled warmly. "I'll draft the final detailed design tonight. Please come back tomorrow to confirm the details. Once confirmed, we'll begin. It'll take about a week to finish."
"Thank you very much." Kuroha bowed.
"You're most welcome. We'll look forward to seeing you again."
As they left, the glass door chimed once more. The same sound as when they entered, yet their feelings were completely different.
Outside, the afternoon sun glowed warmly with shades of gold.
"Hehe, Trainer!" Inari placed her hands behind her head. "Just thinking about my own winning outfit makes me feel even more motivated to train!"
Fujimasa March chuckled softly. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand into Kuroha's.
"Trainer… do you have a preferred style? I can change mine tomorrow."
She looked up at him quietly, speaking softly.
Kuroha blinked, understanding her thoughtfulness. "It's fine. No need to change anything for me. Your winning outfit should reflect what you like."
That earned him a helpless smile. He knew Fujimasa March far too well.
If she ever actually wore her winning outfit during… "horseplay" in bed, the three goddesses might appear instantly to smack him on the head.
As they chatted and walked toward the parking lot, Kuroha caught sight of an old man with a cane slowly making his way to the shop.
"Hm?"
He called softly, raising his hand.
"Senior Ginjirou?"
The old man paused, turned, and recognizing Kuroha, walked over. It was indeed Ginjirou Musaka, the one who had recommended this shop.
"Kuroha, you came already? That was quick." Ginjirou nodded with calm authority.
Kuroha smiled. "Of course. Fujimasa March will need it soon — for next month's Tokyo Crown."
"Good. Then it'll be ready in time."
Hearing that, Ginjirou nodded in approval. "You're more diligent than I expected."
"Just trying to be prepared," Kuroha said modestly. Then he asked, "Senior Ginjirou, are you here for Oguri's G1 winning outfit?"
"Haha, yes. Berno helped me measure Oguri's sizes. I'm here to make preparations in advance."
Helping Oguri with her outfit without even telling her? Is that really okay? Kuroha grumbled inwardly. Trainers sometimes really had odd quirks — even veterans like Ginjirou.
Then, Ginjirou suddenly asked, "Say, Kuroha, aren't you about to enter Central Tracen?"
"Eh? Ah, well, the URA interview list hasn't been released yet, so I'm not sure." Kuroha answered humbly, avoiding being too certain.
The old man waved his hand. "Don't worry. The list is already finalized, just not public yet."
"You scored first in the written test, and your horse girls' results are outstanding. Your entry into Central is practically guaranteed."
This was insider information only a veteran trainer could know.
"Well… then it seems there shouldn't be a problem."
Though he had expected it, Kuroha still let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Ginjirou nodded, but then hesitated. "If you do enter Central, then… well, let's wait until after next year's trainer exam. Then we'll talk again."
With that, he waved and headed into the shop.
What was that about? Kuroha frowned, confused. Didn't quite get what he meant… oh well.
Shrugging, he called to his two horse girls. "Let's go."
The three left the street together.
Inside the shop, Ginjirou stared at Kuroha's departing back, teeth gritted — but not at him.
"Damn it, Kitahara, that idiot! His written score was abysmal!"
Originally, he had wanted to ask Kuroha to help tutor Kitahara in exam skills, but couldn't bring himself to say it.
He sighed deeply, eyes filled with frustration.
"That fool… even at his age he's still messing things up!"
"At my retirement age, I shouldn't have to clean up his messes anymore!"
Thinking of his nephew's pathetic knowledge level, Ginjirou felt helpless. And knowing he'd have to tutor him later made him even more exhausted.
"Kitahara, pull yourself together… You may have time to waste, but she doesn't."
Unlike trainers, who could keep teaching for ten, twenty, even thirty years… Uma Musume had only three short years at their peak.
He didn't want to see Oguri reach retirement before Kitahara even passed his exam.
"And with such poor results, no achievements in raising horse girls locally, that kid… I'll need to really knock some sense into him."
"Ginjirou?"
A sudden voice startled him. He turned to see Madam Suzu smiling.
"…Don't sneak up on me like that. My heart can't take it."
"Not my fault. Every time you're in here, you start brooding too much," she teased.
And so, the two elderly artisans bickered lightly as the shop's atmosphere warmed with their banter.
(End of Chapter)
After leaving Madam Suzu's shop, time flew, and the end of the month had arrived.
In between, Kuroha had visited the shop twice more.
Once, he brought Inari and Fujimasa March back to finalize the winning outfits' design blueprints.
The second time, he returned to collect them — the two outfits that carried countless expectations and effort.
Each outfit was placed in a special alloy case, lined with velvet. Just the act of lifting them carried a solemn dignity. It felt as if they weren't clothes inside, but priceless treasures.
That evening, inside the half-open trainer's lounge after training, Kuroha, Fujimasa March, and Inari sat together. Their eyes were locked on the two cases resting quietly on the table.
The air was heavy with indescribable tension, mixed with excitement.
They glanced at each other, finding the same emotions reflected in each other's eyes.
"…How about you two try them on?"
Finally, Kuroha broke the silence.
The two horse girls, already restless with anticipation, nodded firmly. They each carried their case and entered the room.
Kuroha stayed seated on the sofa, waiting quietly — and, oddly, even he felt a spark of anticipation.
Click—
The door creaked open not long after.
Two figures stepped out, one after another, still adjusting to the feel of their new outfits.
And in that instant, Kuroha's eyes lit up, his breath catching.
The first to emerge was Inari.
Her petite frame was clad in a dark-toned, modernized Japanese dress. The skirt was short, just enough to reveal her toned, pale legs.
But what drew the eye most was her chest — bound tightly by a snow-white sash, the sheer pressure accentuating curves so full they seemed almost dangerous.
The bold contrast between her Edo-style tomboy face and that explosive figure was striking.
Behind her came Fujimasa March.
Her style was the complete opposite.
She wore a fitted, coat-like pure white dress. A silver belt cinched her slim waist and highlighted her soft curves. Silver gloves wrapped her hands, while white thigh-high boots made her long legs seem endless.
Altogether, she radiated nobility, cold beauty, and sharp, commanding presence.
Both were exquisite beauties — flawless figures, perfect balance, and now dressed in outfits designed to magnify their individual charm.
Their allure was so intense, it was almost impossible to look away.
"T-Trainer…"
Fujimasa March spoke first, her voice softer than usual, courage trembling on her lips. "How… how do we look?"
Kuroha snapped out of his daze, and a genuine, admiring smile spread across his face.
"Incredible. Even better than I imagined!"
He raised his thumb in approval.
His heartfelt praise brought deeper blushes to their faces, easing the unease of wearing their first official winning outfits.
"Yeah! I think it's awesome too!"
Inari straightened proudly, spinning once in place with a bright smile. "And it feels so comfortable to wear!"
"Of course. Only the best materials were used," Kuroha said, nodding. When she twirled to his side, he reached out, giving the fabric a pat.
"…And the feel is better than anything I've ever seen."
"Right? I told you!" Inari laughed with hands on her hips, not minding at all.
Fujimasa March, hearing his approval, lowered her gaze briefly — her crimson eyes flickering with joy.
"As long as you like it, Trainer…"
Kuroha, seeing their brightened expressions and clear pride in the outfits, felt deeply satisfied.
The outfits were only the first step.
What awaited them now was the true stage — the South Kanto finale.
...
Time passed quickly.
At last, the day arrived — the final battle of South Kanto: the Tokyo Crown Prize.
...
October 10th, Tokyo.
Ōi Racetrack was already packed to the brim.
The grandstands were overflowing, cheers thundered like a tidal wave, and glowsticks clashed against each other, creating a heat that felt strong enough to blow the roof off.
As the final race of the South Kanto Triple Crown, this event had been promoted with overwhelming publicity.
Unlike the Central Classic Triple Crown, no horse girl had ever completed the South Kanto Triple Crown since its creation.
But this generation was different.
This generation's Ōi had birthed an "absolute queen."
The Silver Storm — Fujimasa March.
Since her debut at Ōi Tracen Academy, she was undefeated, four wins out of four, crushing every opponent who dared stand in her way.
Everyone knew. They weren't gathered here merely to watch another Jpn1 race.
They had come to witness history — the birth of the first-ever Triple Crown Champion of South Kanto.
Backstage, in the preparation room, the atmosphere was calm — eerily calm compared to the roaring outside.
Fujimasa March stood before the mirror, dressed in her pure-white winning outfit. Silver gloves covered her hands as she carefully adjusted her collar.
Her face showed no expression, her crimson eyes deep as a still lake, without the faintest ripple.
But anyone standing close enough could feel it: the crushing aura, heavy as storm clouds pressing down on a city.
"Are you ready?"
Kuroha's voice came from the door.
He leaned casually on the frame, hands in his pockets, calm as always.
Beside him, Inari stood with arms crossed, smiling.
Fujimasa March turned, meeting her trainer and friend with a confident, beautiful smile.
"Yes."
She nodded gently. "I can head out any time, Trainer."
Kuroha chuckled softly, walked over, and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on her shoulder.
"Let's go. Claim your third crown — and let the world cheer for you."
…
At the tunnel entrance.
A girl with blue hair stood quietly at the exit, inhaling deeply.
Suddenly, she felt a force behind her — a pressure so immense it could crush her flat.
But she didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled faintly and greeted the presence.
"March, long time no see."
Clop.
Hoofbeats stopped. A silver-white figure emerged, stepping beside her.
"Yeah. Long time no see, Nichirin."
This girl was Seiran Nichirin — the one who had clashed with Fujimasa March in the Haneda Cup and was hospitalized for months, only recently recovering.
Now, dressed in her own winning outfit, she stood once more at the stage of the Tokyo Crown Prize.
She had been March's first true rival in Ōi, the one who contested the first crown.
And here, at the South Kanto finale, fate had brought them together again.
But she was no longer the cold, aloof girl from before. Now, she looked gentle, almost serene.
Perhaps it was her time in the hospital that had changed her perspective.
"Today, I'm in top form, March," Nichirin said softly, her lips curving in quiet determination.
For a moment, Fujimasa March looked at her — and saw her own past self reflected there.
Then she nodded lightly, a serene smile tugging at her lips.
"That's good. I was worried this race might not even have a worthy opponent."
Nichirin chuckled. "Then you'd better watch out. Otherwise, that Triple Crown you're reaching for might just slip away."
March didn't answer. Her gaze rose to the endless sky beyond the tunnel.
In her crimson eyes, streaks of silver light gathered, swirling, flowing like a sharp edge being drawn.
"Nichirin… give it everything you've got. But stay behind me."
(End of Chapter)
Oi Racetrack.
The roar of tens of thousands of spectators nearly lifted the sky.
The commentator's passionate voice echoed through every corner of the venue.
"————Ladies and gentlemen, wel~come to today's race!"
"We are here at Oi Racetrack in Tokyo, broadcasting live from the scene!"
"At this very moment, I believe everyone's hearts must be racing with excitement, right?"
The commentator's tone brimmed with enthusiasm.
"Today, under a rare clear sky, the track condition is perfect. Truly the ideal stage for the historic showdown that is about to begin!"
"The Nankan (South) Classic Triple Crown! Since its inception, countless powerful Uma Musume have challenged it, yet all have fallen short! Not once has anyone claimed all three crowns and reached this region's ultimate glory!"
"But today, yes, today! We may witness history being made before our very eyes!"
With his impassioned opening, the pre-race parade began.
One by one, the Uma Musume in their brilliant Winning Outfits stepped onto the track, greeting the crowd as the announcer introduced them.
Each one was a seasoned fighter, a victor of countless battles.
They stood as the strongest representatives of the regional Classic class.
Finally, after the third-to-last runner passed, the commentator drew a deep breath and raised his voice to its peak:
"————Our next entrant is the winner of the Uncut Gem Stakes! She faced the storm head-on in both the Keihin Cup and the Haneda Hai, bravely challenging the mightiest warrior of the storm!"
"Today, she will show us her unyielding tenacity and Gut! Ranked second in popularity — Seiran Nichirin!!"
The stands erupted in applause!
That sky-blue figure emerged from the tunnel.
Nichirin gave a light wave to the crowd before walking straight onto the track.
"Challenging the storm…"
Her expression carried a trace of bitterness, her steps heavy.
"She's simply not on the same level as us…"
Following her entrance, the commentator's voice grew even louder, trembling with excitement — a roar born of pure exhilaration:
"————And now, the Uma Musume we've all been waiting for!"
"The two-time Nankan Crown winner, the unstoppable silver storm who tore through the entire region without equal!"
"Today, she will aim to achieve the impossible, to reach a peak no one has ever touched before!"
"Ranked number one in popularity — Fujimasa March!!!"
"Rooaaaar!!!!!"
In that instant, the entire racetrack erupted in cheers, a wave of sound that surged into the sky!
Through the deafening cries, a pure white figure appeared — calm, composed, unshaken.
Unlike Nichirin, she did not wave to the crowd.
She walked with steady, elegant steps, eyes fixed straight ahead.
The sunlight reflected off her Winning Outfit, the silver-white brilliance dazzling, as though she herself was the storm's very center — drawing all light, all eyes.
"OOOOHHHHHHHH!!!"
"Fujimasa March!"
"You're the strongest — go win it all!!"
"Take the Triple Crown in one breath!!"
"Ganbatte!!!"
The spectators roared themselves hoarse, the vast majority there solely for her.
All the glory and radiance gathered upon that silver-white figure.
"————All Uma Musume, to the gates!"
With the commentator's final command, the horses began filing into the starting gates.
Last was Fujimasa March.
Standing at the gate, she looked at her opponents already in position, then exhaled softly.
Her crimson eyes showed no ripple of emotion — only pure, absolute focus.
Then, she stepped inside.
Once the final gate closed, Ooi Racetrack fell into a strange silence — the ominous stillness before a storm.
The commentator's voice alone filled the air:
"Ooi Racetrack, JpnI G1, 2600m dirt. Track condition: firm."
"The final stop of the Nankan Triple Crown — the Tokyo Crown Prize!"
"3"
"2"
"1"
"And they're—OFF!!!"
Bang!
The gates flew open!
It begins!!!
At the instant of release, more than five Uma Musume specializing in Front Runner and Pace Chaser tactics burst forth with fiery determination, unleashing every ounce of speed they had!
They surged desperately toward the lead — their one goal, to box Fujimasa March in the middle pack!
They could not allow her to take the lead so easily again!
Their teeth clenched, their hearts cried out.
Though the crushing defeat at the Tokyo Derby still haunted them, and they knew well their gambit was unlikely to succeed — the pursuit of victory was the instinct engraved into every Uma Musume's very being!
To attempt the impossible — that itself was proof of their pride!
"Uoooohhh!!!"
They squeezed every last drop of power from their bodies, exploding from the gates at unprecedented speed.
None of them had spoken beforehand, yet their movements aligned perfectly.
Da-da-da-da!!!
Hooves thundered against the track as they shifted inward, a surging wall pressing to the rail.
They would trap the silver storm behind them!
But at that very instant—
Like a drop falling into still water, ripples spread.
Time itself seemed to halt.
And then — the boom of thunder, step after step, resounded across this frozen world.
A blurred streak of light tore past, easily surpassing them all, straight into the lead.
"Wha—?!"
The front-runners saw only a flash of pure silver blaze across their vision, gone before they even realized it.
Without struggle, without even granting them a chance to form their wall—
Fujimasa March, the Silver Storm, surged forth at an incomprehensible, overwhelming speed.
She shattered their barricade with effortless grace, leaping clean into the lead!
"Not again… it's happening again…"
The girls behind could only watch her back with disbelief, despair creeping into their hearts.
"What a brilliant start! Fujimasa March has effortlessly taken the lead again! Could she be aiming to repeat her Tokyo Derby triumph?!"
The commentator shouted in excitement.
"The Derby…"
March whispered.
The glow of her Domain, stirred earlier by the atmosphere, had already faded.
She hadn't relied on any transcendent power.
No miracle.
Just running.
Just pure strength.
Speed, stamina, power, technique.
Everything she had built through sweat, through endless training, through sharpened will — laid bare on this track.
It wasn't some godlike gift that defined her.
It was the culmination of every drop of effort, every ounce of refinement.
The wind howled past her ears, the track raced beneath her hooves.
Each stride pressed firmly into the dirt, steady and sure.
The wind was singing.
And in that simple act of running, Fujimasa March could feel it clearly—
————As though heaven and earth itself played a symphony just for her.
This was the music of victory.
(End of Chapter)
"Win it!"
"Victory!"
"This isn't just for me— it's for my trainer, for everyone cheering and smiling for me!"
Fujimasa March's breathing was deep and steady, her heart pounding like a perfect engine, pumping burning blood with calm power.
Her vision stretched wide — before her, only open space and boundless blue sky.
Behind her, the rivals who chased with all their might felt as though they were sinking into mud, their heavy breaths and frantic hoofbeats cut off from her world by an invisible wall.
Nichirin was among them.
"So fast! Fujimasa March is accelerating again, pulling further and further away from the second group! Two lengths! Three! Four! Is this another runaway? Is it another runaway?!"
Already in the opening 300 meters, before even hitting the first curve, she had widened the gap by nearly four lengths.
The déjà vu electrified both commentator and crowd!
"No… not a runaway! March's runaways were never this slow!"
Nichirin stared at that receding silver figure. Beaten once already by her in the Haneda Hai, she clenched her teeth.
She knew.
This wasn't a reckless escape.
This was Fujimasa March's normal cruising speed.
It was simply too fast — beyond the imagination of others. To them, it only looked like a runaway.
"I can't stick to the Late Surger style anymore… or I won't even see her back!"
Bang!
Kicking the ground with ferocious strength, Nichirin seized her chance and burst free from the pack.
The repeated True Blooming had honed her into a powerhouse, her legs exploding with force.
In moments, she had stolen third place and was pressing on the heels of second.
"2600 meters… medium distance… I can't keep pushing like this…"
"If I do, I won't have any strength left for the final stretch…"
Gritting her teeth, sweat soaking her face, Nichirin fought on.
[Nichirin, run behind me.]
March's words before the race still rang in her ears.
But as she looked at that back growing ever more distant, she gave a bitter smile.
"Run behind you? Easier said than done, March…"
——
The atmosphere at Ooi Racetrack was feverish.
Cheers, the commentator's cries, and the pounding hooves thundered together.
The race had passed halfway.
Da-da-da-da-da—!
Only 800 meters remained to the finish.
March was already eight lengths clear.
Beside Nichirin, many girls were faltering, their strength mismanaged, their stamina breaking under the hopeless gap.
"Fuuh…"
Ignoring them, Nichirin drew a long breath. The air within ten miles seemed to rush into her lungs.
Her heavy steps suddenly grew light.
Her eyes locked like a spear on that silver figure, running as one with the wind.
"I can't give up here… at the very least… I want to see her back clearly!"
"Raaahhhhhh!!!"
Her roar ripped free, her face twisted under emotion and wind pressure.
Boom!
Nichirin erupted like blue lightning, tearing past the faltering runner in second.
The crowd gasped — those who had come only to cheer March now turned their eyes to this sudden surge of blue.
"Ohhh?! Nichirin! Nichirin just launched her attack! She's overtaken Golden Rocket! She's now in second place!!"
"She's trying to chase down Fujimasa March — even that impossible distance!"
The commentator's voice cracked with disbelief and excitement.
"Incredible acceleration! Can she go even faster? Can she challenge the storm?!"
"Hm?"
Ahead, March sensed the sudden pressure of wind behind her.
She tilted her head slightly, crimson eyes catching that streak of blue.
No surprise. No panic.
Her gaze was still and deep as a quiet lake — only the faintest curve of her lips hinted at something else.
"Yes… that's it, Nichirin."
Then her stride changed.
Not a reckless burst.
But a rhythm smoother, more efficient — every ounce of power converted into forward thrust with perfect grace.
Her speed did not fall. If anything, it sharpened, while her presence grew ever calmer.
The result — the blue lightning that had been closing… stopped.
Completely.
Nichirin's pupils shrank.
She had pushed to her absolute limit, thinking she could at least narrow the gap.
But instead, despair hit her.
That silver figure hadn't just resisted her chase — she was still pulling away.
Her lungs burned as if aflame.
Her legs felt like iron weights.
She had surpassed herself…
And yet, that back remained untouchable, like a drifting cloud in the sky.
Not distant.
Not unreachable.
But… a fundamental difference.
"Damn it… still… can't catch her!"
A flash of unwillingness burned in her eyes, but then softened into something else.
Relief.
She had seen it.
The height of the peak March had reached.
This wasn't something overcome by willpower or bursts of strength.
She had given her all — not to surpass, but to honor the resolve that let her stand here.
"You win, March!"
Her cry seemed to echo with the voices of the entire crowd, as all their cheers joined together.
——
Before the final corner, March leaned forward.
Vmmmm—!
Not her Domain.
But the sound of all her power unleashing.
Her muscles strained to the very limit, her form merging with the very flow of air.
She stepped—
BOOM!!!
The dirt beneath her exploded like struck by a hammer, mud bursting into the air!
Her figure became a streak of silver lightning, splitting the track itself.
Her speed… defied reason.
It was as though she tore the fabric of space, carving her own path to victory.
Ooi Racetrack went mad.
Tens of thousands of voices became one.
"Fuuujiiimaaasaaa Maaaarch——!!!"
"TRIPLE CROWN——!!!"
The finish line drew near.
That silver figure bore down with unstoppable force, breaking every barrier, carrying the radiance to ignite an entire era.
Like a comet splitting the heavens, she charged into the glory of the peak!
A trail of silver light stretched behind her — a track of legend that would never fade.
"FINISH——!!!!"
The commentator's voice tore from his lungs, roaring words for the history books:
"She's done it! Fujimasa March, by overwhelming margin, wins the Tokyo Crown Prize!"
"History is made this moment!"
"The Nankan Triple Crown———— Achieved!!!"
The silver storm had at last become the eternal crown.
(End of Chapter)
Fujimasa March stood still amidst cheers that nearly shook the heavens.
The hem of her silver-white Winning Outfit fluttered in the storm of voices.
On the giant screen flashed the results.
First place: Fujimasa March, by a dominating margin.
Second place: Nichirin.
The overwhelming gap testified that the Triple Crown was truly hers.
"OOOOOOHHHHHH!!!"
The stands had turned into a surging ocean of people.
Shouts, applause, thunderous cries layered together, threatening to rip the sky apart.
"Fujimasa March! Fujimasa March!"
"Triple Crown!"
"March!!!"
"You're the best!"
Wave after wave of voices slammed into the eardrums of everyone present.
March raised her head, sweeping her gaze around.
Everywhere, people were calling her name. Their passion, their excitement, their raw emotion reached her fully.
"So this… is what it feels like… standing at the very peak?"
Light flickered in her crimson eyes. That weight of countless gazes ignited her chest.
After a moment's silence, she clenched her right fist and raised it high toward the sky!
The fist gleamed in the sunlight, as though it carried the glory of the entire racetrack.
"OOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!"
With her gesture, the crowd erupted louder still, arms waving wildly, cheers crashing like a tidal wave.
After a few seconds, she slowly lowered her hand.
Her eyes fell past the finish line—
There, dozens of Uma Musume panted heavily, hands on their knees.
Nichirin was among them.
She lifted her head, looking at the silver back basking in all the light.
Her gaze was complicated — unwillingness, exhaustion — but finally softened into a faint, resigned smile… and genuine respect.
"This may be the last time… I'll ever get the chance to chase your back, March…"
[Run behind me.]
Nichirin had done it. At the very least, she had seen that back, pursued it to the end, even if the distance remained like an uncrossable canyon.
Exchanging a smile with Nichirin, March turned and walked toward the tunnel — where her trainer and teammates waited.
——
Oi Racetrack. The Victory Stage.
Spotlights poured down like a waterfall, illuminating March at the center like a star descended to earth.
Three Uma Musume danced to a stirring melody, releasing their youthful energy.
"March looks good dancing in that outfit, huh."
Inari One chuckled from below the stage.
Beside her, Kuroha teased with a grin:
"Don't worry. Next month, you'll be dancing on stage in your Winning Outfit too."
"By the way, you haven't been slacking off in your dance classes at school, have you?"
"Hmph, I… I definitely haven't been slacking!"
After playing around with Inari for a bit, Kuroha watched the stage for a while longer. Then, checking the time, he called out:
"Alright, Inari, we should get going!"
Inari blinked in surprise.
"Eh? But the performance isn't over yet."
"That's the point. If we wait until it's over, we won't even get out of the venue!"
Kuroha laughed.
The first ever Nankan Triple Crown champion. A JpnI-level regional title won with a crushing margin. From the same Kasamatsu roots as national star Oguri Cap.
Any of those alone was enough for the paparazzi to swarm them.
"Prize money can wait. We'll slip backstage, pick up March, and leave early!"
After explaining, Kuroha grabbed Inari's hand and jogged toward the back.
Pulled along, Inari glanced down at her hand, her face turning slightly red. She mumbled softly, words too faint to catch.
——
After waiting backstage for a while, they reunited with March.
Their plan was to slip out before the reporters reacted.
But Kuroha underestimated their professionalism.
Before he even reached the back door, several "clever" reporters had already hidden there.
The moment they appeared, a dozen journalists swarmed like sharks scenting blood, sealing the exit.
"Kuroha-sensei! How did you raise Fujimasa March to become the tenth Nankan Triple Crown champion in history?!"
"What are your feelings right now? Could you share them with us?!"
"Now that you've achieved the Triple Crown, what's your next goal?!"
Microphones, recorders, cameras nearly jabbed into his face. Questions came in a barrage, not giving him a second to think.
Black lines creased across Kuroha's forehead as he answered with official stock phrases, subtly shielding March and Inari behind him, forcing a narrow path through the crowd.
Now, he truly understood just how troublesome paparazzi could be!
"This way!"
His eyes flicked, and he pulled the two girls with him, suddenly ducking into a narrow passage reserved for staff.
The heavy fire door slammed shut, cutting off the chaos. Silence fell.
The dim hallway was lit only by the faint glow of an "Emergency Exit" sign.
"Phew… finally safe."
Inari exhaled, "Those guys are more exhausting than a race."
After a brief rest, they reached the underground parking lot.
Cold concrete and still air — a sharp contrast to the madness above.
"Alright, let's get in the car…"
Kuroha pressed the keys. Beep-beep!
His Triumph MPV lit up not far away.
But just as he reached for the door handle, he froze.
There was someone crouching by the front tire.
A woman in a crisp white business suit, her brown hair tied casually back.
She hugged her knees, resting her chin on them, curled up like a small bundle.
Her eyes were half-closed, on the verge of dozing off right there.
"…Huh?"
At the sound of the car unlocking, she slowly lifted her head.
Her drowsy eyes blinked, trying to focus.
Had the reporters chased them even down here? Too dedicated…
Kuroha sighed inwardly.
But the woman seemed to snap awake, scrambled up, and hurried over after spotting him.
"Ah… you're Kuroha-sensei, right?"
"Hello, I'm a reporter for Shining Monthly. My name is Otonashi Etsuko."
…Otonashi Etsuko?
That name was familiar.
Kuroha accepted her card — the info matched what she said.
"What are you doing here?"
"Uh…"
Looking embarrassed, Yutoko pointed toward a black sedan nearby.
"I was late today. When I came to park, I happened to see you driving in.
So, to not miss you, I just waited here after the race ended."
Hearing that, Kuroha was at a loss for words.
Now he remembered who she was.
Otonashi Etsuko — a reporter who appeared in the original game.
Her coverage skills were outstanding, her knowledge of racing events surpassing even many trainers.
But here, she looked barely twenty-two or twenty-three, still green.
Far from the seasoned professional of the other timeline — she seemed more like a fresh graduate intern, her whole being radiating youthful naivety.
(End of Chapter)
Kuroha looked at the young reporter in front of him, whose overeager demeanor was more amusing than bothersome.
Clearing his throat, he tried to make his tone sound less dismissive.
"Miss Otonashi, let's do the interview another day. We just finished a race and need to get back to rest."
At once, Otonashi Etsuko fumbled nervously through her bag, pulling out a small notebook and a pen.
"J-Just one question! Trainer Kuroha, your team's Uma Musume, the 'Chasing the Light' squad!
Could you tell me about your plans for them?"
"Plans?"
Kuroha chuckled softly. "If you want to call it a plan… does Central count?"
After all, soon enough it wouldn't be a secret anymore.
No matter how slow the Central URA Association was, the interview list had to be published by mid-month.
By then, everyone would know—
The trainer of Chasing the Light was heading to Central.
"C-C-C-Central?!"
Etsuko stammered, her pen halting mid-stroke.
She understood the implication of his words.
But if her notes were right, this trainer standing before her…
Wasn't he only nineteen?
Three years younger than her?
And already about to become a Central trainer?!
"Any other questions?"
"Eh? N-No, that's all!"
Startled by his voice, Etsuko shook her head quickly.
Seeing her dazed expression, Kuroha nodded politely.
"Then, if you'll excuse me."
Without further words, he turned, opened the car door, and drove off.
The engine roared, echoing through the underground parking lot as it faded into the distance.
Etsuko stood frozen, still clutching the uncapped pen, her notebook open to a blank page.
The only thing left in the air was the faint hum of a departing engine.
Blinking, she glanced down at her notebook and whispered,
"Central trainer…"
She muttered again, as if trying to digest the explosive news.
"Only nineteen years old… Chasing the Light..."
Excitement finally began to override her initial shock.
Her hands clenched into fists, her eyes lit up—then just as quickly, she scratched her head, troubled.
"…Am I even allowed to write this? The official list hasn't been announced yet…"
"But once it is announced, the story will already be old news…"
The freshly graduated intern reporter fell into a tug-of-war between ethics and career ambition.
...
Back at Oi Tracen Academy—
Kuroha hadn't even parked before he was surrounded.
Tatsuko Yuzuhara and her group of followers had already received word.
Cheers and praises erupted as they rushed over.
A grand welcome ceremony unfolded.
As the first-ever South Kanto Triple Crown winner, Kuroha was now the pride of the entire Oi Tracen Academy.
True to her promise, Tatsuko mobilized nearly the entire student body, faculty, and friends to host a lively celebration.
And when the banquet was over, Kuroha returned to the dorm with his two Uma Musume.
There, the three of them held a smaller, more private 'party' of their own.
...
The next morning—
Sunlight streamed through the window, spilling across Kuroha's face.
He frowned slightly, humming as he groggily opened his eyes.
Feeling the weight across his chest, he sighed helplessly, carefully moving away the slender arm draped over his neck.
Sitting up wearily, he glanced to both sides.
There, fast asleep, were his two Uma Musume.
As the blanket slid down with his movement, it revealed their smooth shoulders and delicate collarbones.
"…What happened last night again?"
Kuroha tried to recall.
And slowly, the memories came flooding back.
Simply put—it was a second round.
The first banquet had gotten everyone excited, but when they returned, their energy hadn't run out.
So they held a second one.
But the second party… had gotten even more intense.
Fujimasa March had boldly demanded a "reward," even dragging Inari One into it.
What was even more absurd was that Inari hadn't refused.
Feeling the aftereffects in his body, Kuroha could only sigh.
After tucking the blanket back over the two girls, he got up, stretched, and headed into the hall.
"Looks like I've hit my limit…"
Opening his status panel confirmed it:
[G1-Class Stamina]
It meant he had stamina comparable to a G1-class Uma Musume.
But both Fujimasa March and Inari One were real G1-class Uma Musume now.
Last night, being double-teamed by them had pushed him to his very limits.
Though he barely managed to hold his ground, for the sake of the future, Kuroha decisively opened the system shop.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He purchased an item straight away:
[Strengthening Decoction] — 100pt
Human-only. Grants recipe for Strengthening Decoction.
A traditional herbal medicine. One bowl a day strengthens the body, stabilizes breath, and sharpens focus. Also multiplies the effects of training.
The recipe unfolded in his mind. After scanning it, Kuroha nodded.
"My recent study in pharmacology should be enough. With this level of difficulty, I can make it."
"As for the materials and environment… I'll ask Ardan about it when I get the chance."
Satisfied, he headed to the bathroom to wash up.
Just then, he noticed a system notification he'd overlooked yesterday amidst the chaos.
[Congratulations, host! Achievement unlocked: South Kanto Triple Crown]
[Reward: Mile Straight, Medium Straight, Long Straight]
"…Such a generous reward?"
His eyes widened.
Three acceleration skills in one go!
Each "Straight" skill—useful across nearly all tracks—cost a hefty price in the shop, usually starting at 100 points each.
And now, he'd been gifted three of them outright.
This windfall left him in great spirits.
After showering, he returned to the bedroom.
The girls were still asleep, so he didn't disturb them.
Instead, he prepared breakfast in the living room, then sat on the sofa to check his phone.
First were messages from other trainers and Uma Musume offering congratulations.
He replied to each one.
Then his eyes caught a particular message:
[Luna: Congrats, trainer of the South Kanto Triple Crown~]
[Luna: The Central trainer interview list is finalized, just not released yet.]
[Luna: Come to Central sometime, I'll arrange an advance interview for you.]
Kuroha raised a brow.
"…This woman…"
He tapped out a reply:
[MyLittleHorse: What do you mean? How can you arrange an interview before the list is public?]
The answer came quickly:
[Luna: Perks of being president.]
[Luna: Consider it my gift for your Triple Crown victory.]
[MyLittleHorse: Abusing authority, huh?]
[Luna: Are you coming or not?!]
[MyLittleHorse: Coming. I'll head over today.]
Kuroha gave in without resistance, agreeing on a time with Luna.
Just then, the bedroom door opened.
Fujimasa March and Inari One emerged, yawning.
"Morning, trainer~"
"Good morning~"
Kuroha put his phone down and smiled.
"Morning. Breakfast is on the table."
Still half-asleep, Fujimasa rubbed her eyes and leaned naturally against his shoulder.
"What were you looking at so seriously, trainer?"
They acted as if nothing unusual had happened last night.
"Arranging a meeting with President," Kuroha explained.
"For the Central trainer interview."
"Interview? Does that mean we're going to Central?" Inari asked, nibbling at her toast.
"If all goes well, yes."
The warmth of their shoulders pressed against him. For a moment, Kuroha hesitated.
Fujimasa suddenly straightened, all traces of sleep gone. Her silver ponytail flicked lightly behind her.
"Then I and Inari should—"
"You two…" Kuroha cut her off, smiling wryly.
"Don't overthink it. You just pulled off the Triple Crown, and we stayed up way too late yesterday. Rest a little. I'll go alone."
The moment he mentioned last night, Fujimasa's cheeks flushed red as she lowered her head.
Inari quickly turned away, her face burning.
"O-Okay, fine! We won't go!"
Their simple breakfast passed in warm comfort.
After making sure the two girls were settled, Kuroha dressed and set out.
He drove straight toward Central Tracen Academy—
For the next step of his journey.
(End of Chapter)