Saying things like "all grudges and past entanglements are over," Symboli Rudolf knew deep down that maybe that had once been true—but it might not be anymore.
She knew something about Akikawa Yayoi's plans for the future of the horse-girl industry, and many of those plans had even involved her assistance.
That plan depicted a world more ideal for horse girls, full of possibilities—one that, in her view, was entirely achievable.
And when that day finally came, even a horse girl like herself would have the chance to step back onto the racetrack once more.
When that time arrived, saying things like "the past is already behind us" would be a lie she couldn't even convince herself of.
She remembered it very clearly: the year she became the Horse Girl of the Year. In the eyes of the outside world, she had achieved the Triple Crown and stood above all her peers.
But for her personally, the glory, the humiliation, and the revenge of that year were things only she herself could truly understand.
It wasn't that she couldn't let go of what happened back then. It was simply that, as long as she was still a horse girl, as long as she would continue to gallop across the racetrack, the brilliance and the darkness of victory and defeat were things she could never ignore.
And just as she was thinking this, she saw and heard the race and the commentary on the screen gradually approaching a white-hot intensity.
"The race has now entered its middle phase. Although the positions of the five competitors have been stable for some time and the overall pace looks relatively steady, in reality their speed is extremely fast."
With the various collected data, the helicopter's bird's-eye view, and years of experience as a trainer, Kitahara was able to perceive everything happening on the track with great clarity.
"Most major racetracks are designed as neat closed loops, but this relay race is different."
"Just like the road section in the first leg, the sandy track in the second leg is also a naturally winding curve."
"In fact, the teams passed the second bend of the official racetrack quite early on, and are now sprinting along the relatively straight section between the second and third bends."
"There are no bends ahead. The straight will continue all the way through—meaning there actually won't be a third bend."
"Before the final straight, however, there will still be a final curve, just like in other races."
Earlier on, the opening positions had differed from those of past races, and the teams' running styles and tactics had also changed. There hadn't been much time to explain the venue itself.
Now, with the race seeming to settle a bit and the crowd's emotions and cheers calming slightly, Kitahara finally had the chance to slip in some explanations.
The purpose wasn't just to inform the audience, but also to pave the way for what he was about to explain next.
"At the very front, Tamamo Cross has ample racing experience and strength. Up to this point, she hasn't loosened up at all despite using a front-running style that doesn't entirely suit her."
"As a teammate, she knows very well that in past races, Oguri Cap—who's chasing closely from behind—possesses an extremely powerful finishing kick."
"By maintaining this distance, she clearly doesn't intend to let Oguri Cap pass easily."
As he explained this, Kitahara had already judged very clearly that Tamamo Cross's way of running wasn't about whether she was suited to it or not.
For the very top horse girls of a generation, there was really only one running style that mattered—the one that wins.
So-called escape, front-running, stalking, or closing styles couldn't simply be applied rigidly in such situations.
This wasn't just theoretical; there were classic races in history that served as clear examples.
The opening act of what later came to be known as the "Gray Coat Peak Showdown" was precisely such a race.
It was the first time Tamamo Cross and Oguri Cap faced each other—the Autumn Tennō Shō.
On one side was the lightning-fast Inazuma, riding a wave of consecutive victories; on the other was the gray-coated monster that had forced her way from regional circuits into the central stage.
Despite the full year's age difference between them, no one believed there was a real gap in their strength.
Especially for Tamamo Cross, the Tokyo Racecourse—where the Autumn Tennō Shō was held—was a place she had never raced before. Meanwhile, Oguri Cap had just won the G2 Mainichi Ōkan, further narrowing the perceived gap between classic and older horses.
Thanks to her brilliant performance in the Mainichi Ōkan, Oguri Cap was even the most popular horse going into that race.
And it was in that race that Tamamo Cross, for the first time, adopted a front-running strategy in actual competition.
She surged forward, caught up with the leaders, ran shoulder to shoulder with them, and began building momentum early.
Only then did Oguri Cap—running her familiar style in the middle of the pack—begin to sense something was wrong and start her chase.
From the replay of the race results, it was clear that Oguri Cap's speed during the pursuit surpassed that of all her rivals.
But the key was that Tamamo Cross held her advantage steadily, never letting the gap close any further.
In the end, she won by one and a quarter lengths. Oguri Cap finished second, and her winning streak came to an end.
It was a truly classic race—anyone familiar with the sport would know it well.
As the commercial later made for that race put it, it was that one-on-one clash between gray coats that completely shattered the belief that "gray horses can't run fast."
This relay race was, of course, very different from the Autumn Tennō Shō—but many details carried a subtle resemblance.
Thanks to the advantage passed on by the senior in the previous leg, her own strength, and Oguri Cap's tactical concessions, Tamamo Cross successfully secured the lead.
And once she had it, she kept Oguri Cap—who was chasing hard from behind—firmly suppressed, revealing no openings at all.
If things continued like this, then forget about the other competitors—if Oguri Cap didn't have enough ways to deal with Tamamo Cross alone, she would likely be beyond saving.
"Tamamo Cross's intent is very clear—she's restricting Oguri Cap's performance."
On the helicopter, staring intently at the race, Kitahara said in a low voice:
"And not just her. The running tactics of the other competitors… seem to have the same goal."
"Based on past races, Super Creek and Mejiro Ardan usually prefer to maintain their own pace and don't easily get drawn into an opponent's rhythm."
"Or rather, those two are the kind of runners who excel at setting the overall tempo themselves."
"But right now, they're both pushing forward as much as possible around the transition phase of the opening section."
"If nothing unexpected happens, their thinking is probably the same—to lock onto this tactic."
"As for Inari One, she hasn't made any special adjustments for the race so far, but she's been maintaining a consistent late-closing style from the start. That kind of approach will inevitably come down to a battle of finishing speed."
"And among all the competitors, aside from her, the strongest finishing kick… still belongs to Oguri Cap."
"So… she's being targeted by everyone. And by everyone on the same team, no less…"
"…Oguri Cap."
After a brief pause, Kitahara sighed silently before continuing, "I suppose that's only natural."
"As the most talked-about horse girl in the sport right now, her overwhelming strength and outstanding record have made Oguri Cap the center of countless discussions."
"Whether intentionally or not, she has to face this kind of pressure."
"I hope she can withstand it and put on a great performance… hang in there."
After hesitating for a moment, Kitahara couldn't help but offer a quiet word of encouragement to his horse girl.
Strictly speaking, commentators shouldn't show bias.
Every horse girl on the track has her own fans, and no fan wants to see the horse girl they support lose.
In such an atmosphere, any hint of favoritism from commentators or guests could easily spark dissatisfaction.
Some fans might even file complaints or reports—things like that had happened before.
What's more, in the midst of such an intense race, the competitors' nerves were stretched taut. They might not even hear the thunderous cheers, let alone a single voice of encouragement.
That's why professional commentators don't specifically cheer for individual horse girls.
But Kitahara wasn't a professional—and from his perspective, the current situation was simply too unfavorable for Oguri Cap.
He was also beginning to vaguely understand why things had turned out this way.
If he had to put it into words, he felt that his horse girls had grown.
They had trained together, raced together, and even competed against one another in the same races.
But some kinds of growth could only be noticed after time, training, and accumulated racing experience.
For example, learning how to find a balance between friendship and competition—or firmly choosing one's own resolve and path.
It wasn't that they had never been aware of these things before. In major races like the Japanese Derby or the Spring Tennō Shō, they had likely felt and thought about them.
But perhaps recently, by interacting more with juniors and seniors alike, and racing together with them, the convergence of different positions and perspectives had allowed them to sense more.
The most direct example was probably the race that Rudolf Symbol and the other legends had just finished.
The friendships these legendary seniors shared within the student council and academy were things Oguri Cap and the others could see.
They had also seen those past races.
But witnessing them firsthand was something else entirely.
Even though it was an unofficial relay race, the intensity it displayed could be described as a battle—or even a duel to the death.
They might not have known all of the seniors' entanglements, but as horse girls, their innate sensitivity allowed them to sense the fighting spirit within.
It wasn't surprising that such fighting spirit would influence them and manifest so fiercely in their own race.
That was how Kitahara saw it.
What he didn't know was that among the horse girls sprinting down the track, there were equally tangled thoughts.
Compared to before, her eyes were narrowed more tightly, avoiding the yellow sand flying toward her as much as possible. Oguri Cap silently clenched her teeth, feeling a level of stamina drain she had never really paid attention to before.
The most obvious sign of it was the sweat flowing down her temples, hairline, back, and underarms—things she had never noticed in the past.
In earlier races, all she ever thought about was when to sprint, when to overtake. She never paid attention to such details.
No—or rather, in the past, she simply didn't think this much.
But now, she was keenly aware that too many thoughts were flooding her mind.
Is racing… supposed to be like this…?
Giving up the lead and staying in Little Tama's slipstream should've been the right choice…
So why… does it feel this exhausting?
Should I try to retake the lead now…? No, no—that's too early. For me, I should only think about that in the last few hundred meters…
Wait—this race… the marker for the last few hundred meters…
There isn't one in this race!
No—don't think about that. Think about what the others are doing…
Super Creek… she's sticking so close…
Ardan too…
Should I relax a little, return to my usual, slightly easier pace, catch my breath…?
Racing is supposed to be slower than this, right? Isn't this too fast? What is everyone thinking…?
Or should I just maintain the status quo…
No—Ardan and Super Creek said earlier that they wanted me to change something…
But…
What exactly am I supposed to change…
No—wait!
What am I even thinking?
I… I want to become an amazing horse girl. I run on the track so I can keep running forever. I even said I wanted to run more exciting races…
So then…
I can't lose!
No matter what race it is, whether it's the Classic Triple Crown or any other race—or even this relay…
I… don't want to lose!!!
"Really… that's such an ugly state you're in, Oguri."
After her thoughts had spun countless times, just as she was about to push forward based on her decision, Oguri Cap suddenly felt an overwhelming presence bearing down from behind.
It wasn't the pressure of a Domain. She had grown fairly adept at handling Domains, and through daily training and some races, she was familiar with that kind of aura.
But what was chasing her now was absolutely not a horse girl within a Domain.
It was something far more basic—clear, steady breathing; orderly arm swings; raw, powerful movement.
And instinctively, she sensed that the horse girl giving her this feeling hadn't even unleashed her full strength yet—at the very least, she was nowhere near as exhausted as Oguri herself.
"S-Super Creek?!"
In her pupils, shrunk to pinpoints, a chestnut-colored figure was faintly reflected. The figure that was usually gentle and serene now radiated an overwhelming, inescapable despair.
W-When…? When did she surge up here?!
Stunned, Oguri Cap froze.
Super Creek, however, only left behind a murmured sentence as she brushed past, along with a complicated backward glance, before charging straight ahead.
She could feel that the things she and Mejiro Ardan had said before the race had made Oguri Cap—who usually seemed carefree—think deeply.
She felt she understood her teammate well. Oguri Cap wasn't actually as airheaded as she appeared.
She thought about many things—but her thinking was always simple.
When things became too complicated, she couldn't figure them out. She just needed some time.
Super Creek didn't know what Ardan thought, but she didn't feel there was anything wrong with what she had said earlier.
In fact, in a sense, if they weren't friends, she wouldn't have said those things at all.
What she wanted wasn't about being a protagonist or not.
She simply wanted to see whether, if she gave it her all and fought the way she believed in, she could actually win.
But now, she felt a bit disappointed.
Oguri Cap's current state made it clear that she hadn't figured out why she was running this race at all—she was simply thinking about winning.
She hadn't been like this before. Before, she was simple too—but simply wanted to keep running, and to run to first place.
Running on and reaching first place wasn't the same as wanting to win. At least, that was how Super Creek saw it.
Because only by running completely according to one's instincts and mastered abilities could victory even be possible. Wanting to win alone was never enough.
There were simply too many factors that determined victory—far too many to think through completely.
So now, this idea of returning to oneself…
Super Creek didn't realize that as she silently thought this, what she suddenly felt was exactly what Oguri Cap had experienced just seconds earlier.
She only heard words more resolute than her own intent, coming from behind in the blink of an eye.
"I… said it before, didn't I?"
"No matter how many times I'm shattered, no matter how many times I break apart, I will…"
"Run forward with everything I've got!!!"
(End of Chapter)