In Tokyo Racecourse at this very moment—
To the ocean-wave crowd, to the hoarse-throated commentators, and to the Uma Musume on the turf bracing for battle, Obey Your Master's entrance was only a tiny interlude.
The real storm was just beginning to brew.
As more powerhouses walked into the arena, the commentator's voice climbed higher, injected with more fervor than at any prior moment:
"From the countryside at Kasamatsu, climbing all the way to the world stage—Oguri Cap!!"
"She's only the third favorite today, but listen to that roar! That roof-lifting cheer!"
"World—just watch this monster's late-spurt with your own eyes!"
"—O-gu-ri! O-gu-ri!—!!"
Beneath cheers hot enough to lift the roof, the ash-grey figure stepped out. Her face was as cool as ever—but in those eyes a spark had been struck.
And then—an intangible, sovereign aura surged outward like a tangible breaker!
A tall silhouette, striding in as if none could stand above her, seized every gaze!
"The overseas super favorite!"
"Born a treasure of Italy, a monarch of Europe—now entering in peak condition!"
"Second favorite—Tony Bianca!!"
Natural golden curls crowned that domineering figure. Just by appearing, she became a massive magnet that locked every sightline in place.
Yet the word favorite… drew the slightest hitch of her brow. A glint slid through those deep eyes; the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed a hard-to-hide displeasure.
And at last, when the final figure emerged—
Commentator and audience alike fell into unrestrained frenzy.
"—The last to enter, the invincible ace of our generation—our undisputed No.1!"
"The first in history to complete a Spring–Autumn Tenno Sho double!"
"Across all Japan, she stands without a rival!"
"Our white lightning will, today, challenge the world!!"
Thunder wind howled in the stands.
Lightning seemed to coil about tiny feet as the small girl stepped out—each step thundering like a beating drum.
In the grandstand, Kuroha and company stared at the column of fighting spirit—soaring skyward from all fourteen world-class runners—faces unconsciously tense.
"…What terrifying pressure."
Beside him, Inari One grinned wildly. "I watched last year's Japan Cup—never felt pressure like this!"
"Of course," Kuroha chuckled softly. "This year's field—every entrant is the pinnacle of their homeland."
"And… there's even a Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe champion here."
"In terms of difficulty, this is one of the strongest lineups ever."
His gaze slid beyond the crowd, toward the paddock and start. In his eyes, a faint glow—imperceptible to others—quietly flickered.
The power of Body and Breath Perception spread across his vision.
After a moment, Kuroha slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he had his conclusion.
The Arc—one of the true global crown jewels of this era. Whoever wins it is among the strongest of their time.
And Tony Bianca, the Italian Arc champion—her power was truly beyond reason. In pure physique alone, her "stats" had already blasted past the 1200 mark.
If… she didn't let that overwhelming power breed carelessness—
Then perhaps no one here could be her match.
Kuroha exhaled.
But there are no ifs on the track.
Tokyo Racecourse fell into a breathless hush.
Even the wind held still.
Fourteen top-class entrants from around the world had filed into the gates, waiting on the signal.
In her stall, Obey Your Master stood quietly, eyes closed—tuning body and mind to an unprecedented peak.
She had waited far, far too long for this.
Her fingers curled; she tightened her fist—
Then snapped her eyes open, lifting her face to spear the boundless green ahead—the turf about to be conquered.
In that instant, a blazing yet tightly reined radiance—like a jet-black firmament—rose in the depths of her pupils. It was as if countless flecks of starlight were born and set spinning there, until—
"—the power to defeat everything—right now."
The symbolic fanfare of Tokyo Racecourse swelled.
Tens of thousands held their breath.
"The Japan Cup the whole world is watching—this nerve-wracking instant…!"
As the commentator's voice trembled with excitement—
The signal above the gates flipped!
Clack!!
A crisp metallic snap plucked every taut nerve like a string.
Fourteen gates flew open in unison.
"They're off—!!"
At the crack of the start—clean breaks!
"A beautiful start!"
"Nearly all runners fire out together—start is very smooth!"
The play-by-play came instantly, clinging tight to the whirlwind shifts ahead.
"They're scrambling for the forward positions!"
"—Look! Three Japan runners get perfect breaks and seize prime spots!"
"And right behind them—Oguri Cap! Oguri Cap is way up! She's chosen a Pace Chaser run!"
Shock rippled through the call.
That ash-grey figure had, from the gun, completely overturned the Late Surger pattern she'd used in her seven Central runs—sliding straight into the front flight!
"A forward tactic?!"
"Oguri Cap??"
"Can she pull it off?"
The stands buzzed like a hive.
They remembered the Autumn Tenno Sho—how Tamamo Cross, herself a master chaser, had stunned everyone by going forward early—and crushed the field.
This time… was it Oguri's turn?!
"—Tony Bianca, monarch of Europe, shadowing just behind; Michelle Baby of the White Eagle Nation and Obey Your Master right in pursuit!"
"Lunatic Moonlight and Ellerslie Glory settle at the rear—they're composed, studying the shape up front!"
They dived toward the first turn, hooves pounding earth to a rolling thunder.
In that surging torrent of bodies, Obey Your Master's silhouette sank into the mass—neither forcing the lead nor wasting a stride.
She did not, like others, burn fuel to snatch some gilded, attention-grabbing spot. She held a just-right tempo, quiet in mid-pack.
She could hear the quickened breaths of those who'd already committed power early—feel the dense tremors stamped up from the ground.
Impulsive, assumption-driven running.
Watching the ash-grey figure up front, the corner of Obey Your Master's mouth drew a thin, cold curve.
Besides… this is an international G1.
Not some cozy friendly.
Up front, the wind keened past ears; a clear lane stretched open with nothing to thread.
Oguri drank in this view, this position she hadn't savored in so long—an odd, familiar ease welling up.
The last time she'd run like this at the spearhead… had been at Kasamatsu—banging heads with March.
A wash of relief softened her eyes.
The pressure behind was still crushing—but here, running like this… felt so light.
No more knot of bodies to weave through, no more splitting lines like in her old Late Surger runs—no need to hunt for windows—
If she held this spot, she knew she could unleash everything!
Yet just as that thought formed—
A brutal force slammed in hard from her right flank!
So sudden—so fierce—it nearly tipped her whole body left!
"Wha—?!"
Oguri jolted, fighting for balance—only to see the sun-bronzed runner from the White Eagle Nation—Michelle Baby—glued to her side, grinning as if that rattle had been nothing but a friendly nudge.
She even flicked her chin up in greeting, lips shaping a casual, "Hey, buddy."
As if that collision—which could break a race—were the most normal thing in the world.
"What was that?!"
In the stands, March and the others frowned in unison, anger flashing.
Deliberately smashing someone in-race?!
Even at their fiercest, they'd never stooped to that.
Kuroha's face remained calm. He watched the turf and said quietly:
"This is what an international's like."
"In Europe and America, this level of bodying and contact is routine."
"To them, it's just… racing."
He let his gaze pass beyond the snarling lead scrum and found the middle ranks.
There—Obey Your Master.
It was as if she already knew every runner's stride habits; half a body before trouble formed, she flowed to a clean line, sliding past tangles before they happened. Around her, in this violent current, was a pocket of perfect calm.
The opening skirmish for position hadn't touched her at all.
Meanwhile Gold City and Tamamo Cross, unused to this grade of early bump-and-grind, were both forced to yield in the collisions—bleeding energy, eating clods, positions slipping…
(End of Chapter)
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