When Okino-san and I returned from the smoking area, for some reason, Rudolf-senpai looked displeased. Still, nothing in particular happened, and we made it safely to the training grounds where the club tryouts were being held.
Since Ohana-san led the way into the training area, the Rigel team members and the first-years taking part in the tryouts stared at me curiously. Well, I guess it's natural — if some unknown Uma Musume shows up walking next to your trainer, you'd be curious too.
"Ah, Ohana-san, you're late. All the first-years are waiting for you.
Also… who's that with you?"
It was an unfamiliar upperclassman who hadn't appeared in the anime, speaking to Ohana-san. Probably a Rigel member, though I'd never seen her before.
"She's a scouting candidate from a trainer I know. She'll be participating in the exhibition race today as a special case."
"I see. All the participants have already finished warming up, so we can start whenever you're ready."
"Understood. Thanks, Katsuragi Ace."
The Uma Musume called out cheerfully, "No problem!" as she walked off.
Wait, what!? Why did you just casually drop such a famous name, Rigel!? I couldn't help but scream internally.
"That's how it is, Nature. You'll be running as the first-year representative in the exhibition race."
"Got it… By the way, how long do I have to warm up?"
"I'll give you ten extra minutes. Try to finish quickly."
"Roger that."
I'd thought that as part of the tryouts, we'd just get to observe Rigel's training sessions… but I didn't expect to start off with an exhibition race.
The distance was set at 1600 meters — short enough for the first-years to handle. Well, it's a good opportunity to see how far I can go against upperclassmen.
Okino-san gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, while Rudolf-senpai looked torn about whether to cheer for me or for his Rigel teammates.
Come on, senpai — surely you should be cheering for your own team, right?
As I took off my tracksuit and started moving to warm up quickly, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Thinking it might be Ohana-san, I turned around — just as a voice called out to me.
"Excuse me. May I have a moment?"
"Sorry to bother you while you're focused. I heard you're running as the first-year representative, and as your classmates, we wanted to come cheer you on…"
Two Uma Musume — one with bay-colored hair, the other chestnut. Ah, of course. They would already be enrolled at this point, before Special Week's era.
"You're… Air Groove-san and Silence Suzuka-san, right?"
"I don't believe we've spoken before, but I'm honored you know who we are. I wanted to cheer you on, Nice Nature."
Of course I know you — from my previous life… not that I could actually say that.
But in truth, both Air Groove-san and Silence Suzuka-san were already famous for dominating recent mock races among our year.
"Your mock races the other day were amazing!
Wait — but I haven't introduced myself yet, have I?"
"Nice Nature-san, you're more famous than we are."
"Eh? Why am I famous?"
"'Eh?'"
"'Eh?'"
For some reason, both of them looked puzzled as I tilted my head in confusion. I'd only participated in one mock race — why would I be well-known?
"Because you're always so friendly with Student Council President Ten Point, aren't you?"
"I've never seen President Ten Point smile and speak so casually with anyone besides Vice President Tosho Boy, Vice President Green Grass, and you, the first-year."
"Really? Ten Point-san always seems happy when she eats the cookies I make, though…"
Now that they mentioned it — yeah, I'd never seen Ten Point-san chatting or smiling with anyone outside of the student council officers. I always assumed it was work-related, but apparently not.
"I think I understand now… but does that alone really make me more famous than you two?"
"Foolishness. Nice Nature, you're always reading research papers during breaks, aren't you? Don't you realize your classmates have seen you studying difficult foreign-language papers outside of class time?"
Ah, I see. Sorry, I didn't know that.
Actually, I hardly ever talk to my classmates — during breaks, I'm reading papers or reference books, and at lunch, I usually drop by the student council office while eating.
(And no, don't you dare call me a loner!)
"We've never actually seen you race before, Nice Nature. That's why we wanted to cheer you on."
Silence Suzuka clasped her hands before her chest as she said that, and Air Groove nodded firmly beside her.
Alright then. I'll just have to run with everything I've got.
…Well, I was planning to anyway, but now even more so.
"Thank you both. Oh, and just call me 'Nature.' You don't have to be so formal!"
"I see. Then Nature doesn't have to be formal with us either."
"Please call me Suzuka, Nature-san."
The two of them smiled warmly. I finished my warm-up and replied, "I'll go win this," before heading back toward Ohana-san.
The gates had already been set up, and the Rigel participants were gathering so as not to let their bodies cool down.
"Ohana-san, sorry to keep you waiting."
"Right on time. Let's begin, then."
She handed me my numbered bib, and I thanked her before focusing my mind — ready to step into the gate at any moment.
Luckily, I drew the outermost gate. Sure, that meant a bit of distance loss, but with the stamina I'd built up from being able to handle 2400 meters, the loss over 1600 meters was negligible.
In fact, being on the outside meant I could run freely without getting boxed in — a definite advantage.
"Nature, I'm not your trainer yet, and I haven't seen you race before, but among all the entrants today, you've got by far the most talent."
While I waited for my turn to enter the gate, Okino-san called out from the outer rail. Right — come to think of it, with such a strong first impression, I'd forgotten he'd never actually seen me race.
"This isn't an official race, and you haven't fully developed yet. Don't push your legs too—"
"That's not what you should be saying, Okino-san."
"Huh?"
"I know you're not my trainer yet, and you haven't seen me race… but when your future partner horse is about to run a race, you do know what you're supposed to say, right?"
"…Yeah, you're right. I almost forgot… Nature."
"Go win."
"Yes, I'll win, Okino-san."
With that, I stepped into the gate quickly. This would only be my second race, but hearing someone tell me to "go win" really lit a fire in me.
My strategy was the same as before — sashi, the closing style. It would let me make the most of everything I'd trained for.
I lowered myself into running posture, sharpening my focus to the limit.
Even though a small delay at the start wasn't fatal in a sashi race, it was still best to get a clean break.
Clack!!
The gates flew open. A clean start — no delays.
As expected of upperclassmen, their starts were flawless.
It was a nine-horse race. I stayed out of the early speed battle, taking the eighth position.
Since Rigel favored senkou and sashi styles, there were no nige runners; the front-runners essentially played that role.
My stride early on was slightly long.
By widening my stride and slowing the pitch, I conserved stamina — fewer steps meant less energy used.
The opposite — shorter strides and faster pitch — would increase energy consumption, even if it looked easier on the legs.
I'd trained to switch between stride and pitch mid-race, so I could now do it much smoother than in my first mock race.
Even so, I made sure to stay aware of my surroundings.
As the first corner approached, I shortened my stride and raised my pitch — increasing step count for tighter, smoother cornering.
Though that cost more stamina, the trade-off was worth it.
Tilting my body inward, I fought the centrifugal force that tried to push me outward. By increasing the number of steps and shortening ground contact time, I reduced the strain on my legs.
My breathing grew a little rough from the effort, but it wasn't a problem yet.
I was running roughly one lane outside, like in track racing — a position with visible distance loss. But with no one blocking me, it was also completely clean.
Out of the second corner and into the straight.
I switched back to my cruising stride and took a brief breather.
The timing to strike would be from the final turn into the home stretch — the perfect point to unleash my finishing kick.
(The overall pace is slower without any front-runners, but that means everyone will still have stamina and speed left for the final dash!)
In the previous mock race, there had been nige runners and it was everyone's first time racing, so the pace had been relatively fast — though still slow compared to the upperclassmen.
But this time, it wouldn't be so easy. These were veterans.
(I've still got plenty of stamina. It's a little early, but I'll make my move from the third corner.)
I slightly raised my pitch, accelerating bit by bit — overtaking one, then another.
Some tried to block me, but that only made them burn more stamina. Fine by me.
Now in fifth place, with the top four running nearly abreast, we entered the third corner.
(Alright… this is it!)
I unleashed my stored stamina and switched into my sprinting stride — widening my stride and pushing my pitch to the limit.
Though doing this mid-corner risked being pulled outward by centrifugal force, in a short race like this, I wanted every bit of distance to reach top speed.
My legs — strengthened by towing tires in training — dug hard into the turf, kicking up dirt like it was a dirt track.
The gap to the leader shrank — four lengths, then three.
The front runner also began her final spurt, but it was too late.
She was already within my reach.
I passed the fourth-place runner, then the third, and entered the final straight.
With the turn's outward pull gone, I surged forward even faster.
Half a length behind the second-place runner, one and a half from the leader.
Running wide, but not too far out, I had no one blocking my path.
Now it was all about grit and finishing speed.
With fifty meters to go, I overtook the leader.
She tried to fight back, but with no distance left to accelerate, it was impossible.
No one caught me.
I crossed the finish line in one breathless burst.
The confirmation lamp lit up.
On the scoreboard, the "1st Place" number matched my bib — number 9.
I'd won by a length and a half.
(I… came in first… my first victory… YES!)
Slowing down, I pumped a tiny fist where no one could see me.
It wasn't an official race — just an exhibition.
But it was the first race of my life that I'd ever truly won — proof that all my training had paid off.