Chapter 106: Win, win, Kitasan will win
At 3:20 p.m., as the parade of horses began, the Nakayama Racecourse rang with the thrilling commentary of the live broadcast.
"Fifteen competitors will clash over 2,000 meters of turf, each vying for the title of 'Fastest of Their Generation!'"
"Fans have flocked here in droves, hoping to witness a race that may well go down in history!"
"First up—this Umamusume!"
"Scion of a dazzling pedigree!"
"Riding high on the momentum of three straight victories!"
"Entry 5-8, the number one favorite—Satono Crown!!"
All eyes turned as Satono Crown stepped onto the parade platform in her sleek racing outfit.
A deep green sleeveless top, black shorts trimmed with pale gold, long black silk gloves, stockings and glossy black boots—she looked sharper and more commanding than ever.
As she appeared, the stands erupted in cheers, and the commentator's voice grew even more animated.
Next, the second favorite REAL STEEL and the third favorite Duramente each made their entrance in turn.
And then—
"Also streaking with three consecutive wins!"
"A jet-black silhouette shattering all doubts from her debut!"
"A girl who turns every race into a festival!"
"Entry 4-7, the fourth favorite—Kitasan Black!!"
Bounding onto the platform with exuberance, the black-haired girl drew cheers no less thunderous than the favorites before her.
In the front row of the stands, Makoto lowered his binoculars with a satisfied nod.
"Not bad. At least this time… she didn't cause a scene during the parade."
From beside him came a lively, half-reproachful voice.
"Trainer Yasui, what kind of person roots for his charge to mess up?!"
"…That's not what I meant."
With a wry smile, he turned toward Tokai Teio, who had voiced the complaint, and sighed.
"It's just… in her first three races, Kitasan Black always had some little mishap."
"The first time, she wore her running shoes on the wrong foot."
"The second time, her jacket zipper broke."
"The third time, she put her bib number backwards."
"And if it weren't for Special Week's sharp eye, I wouldn't have even noticed the third one."
Teio, who only knew of Kitasan Black's successive victories, hadn't heard of these blunders.
It dawned on her quickly—the junior who idolized her would never tell her such embarrassing stories. She hadn't expected her trainer to be the one to spill them.
After a brief pause of surprise, something else caught her attention.
"…Sharp eye?"
She looked to the other side in puzzlement.
"Wait—are you seriously talking about Special Week?"
On Makoto's other side, Mejiro McQueen, Daiwa Scarlet, and others familiar with Kitasan Black were watching with smiles.
Special Week, however, looked mortified.
Holding up her phone, she scratched her head. "Teio, that's a bit harsh, don't you think…?"
From the phone's speaker came a gentle laugh.
"That's right. Spe can be sharp too, you know."
On the screen was an Umamusume with serene features and a gentle aura. Her long orange hair gleamed smoothly, and her emerald-green eyes shimmered like a spring lake.
Seeing her, Teio's stern expression for work melted into something lighter, more playful.
"C'mon, it was just a joke. But really, Suzuka, skipping out on Kitasan Black's Satsuki Sho? That's not like you."
"Sorry… things have been really hectic over here in the States. I couldn't get away…"
With an apologetic look, Silence Suzuka smiled.
"Anyway, I've already arranged my schedule—I'll be back in Japan by the end of the month."
"I'll definitely make it in time for Golshi's spring Tenno Sho, and I won't miss Kita-chan's Japanese Derby either."
"And for Spe's Summer Dream Trophy, I'll be there to help and cheer as well."
The Umamusumes gathered to support Kitasan Black lit up with excitement, rushing to ask questions about the one on the other end of the phone.
When Tokai Teio had called earlier, Makoto had asked a few things.
On the other side of the video call was Silence Suzuka—an Umamusume whose career had been nothing short of outstanding.
Her signature ultra-high-speed front running had left a deep impression on fans of the time, and even today her representative races were still used in the industry as teaching material for front running runners.
However, in her last race before retirement, a severe injury forced Silence Suzuka to quit the track.
Afterward, she began working in the field of rehabilitation.
Now she was a sports rehabilitation specialist, spending much of her time in the United States.
"All right, enough about what comes later!"
Suddenly, Gold Ship cut off her friends' questions in a loud voice.
Under everyone's startled gaze, the tall Umamusume with long silver-gray hair grew solemn, stretching out both arms.
Like she was about to fire off some kind of shockwave, she cupped her hands and aimed them toward the front.
That just so happened to be the direction of the paddock leading to the gates—right where Kitasan Black and the other entrants were heading to the starting line.
"Kita-chan's race is about to begin! What we should be doing right now is cheering her on!"
"Don't forget our tradition!"
"I'll go first!"
"Win, win, Kitasan will win."
Chanting like some kind of mystic ritual, she struck a strange pose, glaring intently at Kitasan Black as she drew nearer to the gate.
…Since when was this a tradition? What kind of cheering style is that…?
Just as Makoto was inwardly chuckling at the absurdity of it all, he was stunned to see something completely unexpected.
Not only serious and composed Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen, but also the straightforward Daiwa Scarlet, the free-spirited Vodka, even the usually ditzy Special Week and the calm, serene Silence Suzuka—all of them had solemnly taken up the exact same bizarre pose.
The group stood lined up between the start and finish lines, facing toward the gates.
When Kitasan Black passed by, she immediately looked their way.
Sure enough, with a face full of delight, she waved enthusiastically to them—and, as if infused with some mysterious power, the black-haired girl's fighting spirit flared all the brighter.
—So this really was some kind of strange and miraculous ritual?
Feeling his worldview take a tiny hit, Makoto waved back at Kitasan Black almost by reflex. He was just about to ask a question when the broadcast announcer suddenly raised his voice.
"The bell of destiny tolls!"
"The entrance march of the Satsuki Sho has begun!"
"Each Umamusume, with her own ambitions held close to her heart, walks toward her very own gate!"
Like someone had pressed pause, like a mute button had been switched on, the roaring tens of thousands in the stands suddenly seemed to fade away into silence.
In that illusion-like stillness, with expressions of confidence or solemn resolve, fifteen figures stepped into the gates one by one, as the commentator's voice carried across the airwaves.
The seventh gate—the one so familiar, and yet somehow strange in this moment.
Taking a deep breath, Kitasan Black leaned forward, left arm drawn across her chest, right leg stepping just a little back—and to her surprise, she felt an inexplicable calm settle in her heart.
Moments later—
"Now then, with all Umamusumes in their stalls, the 75th Satsuki Sho, turf 2000 meters, G1—"
"Start!"
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Note:
This is how Gold Ship and Co chant looks like.
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/NwQj_G0ErMg
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