Afternoon, Tokyo Racecourse.
A tall, slender figure stepped in.
She stopped at the entrance to the stands, gazing down at the bustling crowd and the shadows below—some warming up, some already running—with a hint of nostalgia on her face.
A lock of blonde hair fluttered on the breeze. It was Obey Your Master.
At this hour, Kuroha was at the Mejiro family's training grounds, overseeing the girls' workouts.
Especially with Mejiro McQueen about to greet her first G1—new-filly-year or not, a G1 handicap is never to be taken lightly.
So, after finishing the comprehensive dossier Kuroha had prepared,
Obey came alone, straight to the racecourse.
The open training for overseas mares exists to help these long-distance visitors let their bodies acclimate to Tokyo Racecourse's turf and environment.
Last year, Obey had also come a few times under Kuroha's lead.
After that, she transferred into Team Chasing Light.
And she herself has run multiple graded events on this track; you could say she knows this turf like the back of her hand.
Thus, this year, she didn't come to do course-adaptation laps; she only slipped in now and then to gather intel.
Although Kuroha's intel was already thorough, habits and moment-to-moment states still need to be witnessed with one's own eyes to count as real.
Her gaze swept the grounds, unhurried.
Down on the infield, each overseas mare radiated fierce fighting spirit; now and then, prismatic tracers flashed in their eyes.
For those who come to the Japan Cup—even if they're not the most eye-catching at home—
they're still top-class.
Even if they haven't stepped into the second stage—[Domain],
simply awakening the "True Self state" is no problem at all.
Soon, she found the two leaders fated to self-detonate.
Pirate Crowhawk was blasting through turf sprints with oppressive momentum, as if to peel the sod right off the earth.
Ibubinch, by contrast, stretched leisurely by the rail with a sun-bright smile, waving to the spectators and drawing waves of cheers.
She'd already compiled complete files on those two.
Obey didn't linger on them; her eyes kept searching.
At last, in one quiet corner of the course, she spotted that silhouette.
The People's Queen.
A girl with long, wavy, silver hair parted in an M down the center; heterochromic eyes of gold and red.
A playful ahoge tipped her brow, and a beauty mark dotted the corner of one eye.
She wasn't doing explosive-power drills like Pirate Crowhawk, nor was she soaking up attention like Ibubinch.
She simply jogged—lap after lap—at a remarkably steady, even plain rhythm.
She looked so ordinary, carrying none of a strong one's sharpness or edge—like a neighborly girl from the countryside who just loves to run.
Had Kuroha not warned her and furnished data beforehand, Obey might have overlooked her entirely.
But…
When Obey focused her attention fully on the girl, those golden eyes slowly, bit by bit, grew solemn.
Stability.
The utmost stability.
Every breath, every swing of the arm, every footfall—measured as if by ruler and caliper—precise down to the millimeter.
Not a single extraneous motion. Not one unit of wasted strength.
It wasn't a run forged for grace or beauty, but a run honed to the limit for efficiency: a pure racing machine.
Within that seemingly unadorned stride, there pulsed an oppression that could smother any opponent.
Obey knit her brows.
Judging purely from form and efficiency, this New Zealand representative—the People's Queen—was already among the most technically accomplished runners on this course.
A return-to-the-origin technique—one that channels everything into forward motion.
Even if she couldn't match the "monsters" on Obey's own team, with dozens of skills stacked and personal uniques nearly all at Lv5,
she absolutely surpassed the vast majority at Central Tracen Academy.
Yet unlike the other overseas mares, she didn't peacock; she ran low-key, in silence.
Obey had been watching for nearly twenty minutes.
In that time, the People's Queen attempted just one probing dash—
and even then, she managed her pace to keep the thousand-meter split under sixty seconds.
To the average fan—and to racers unfamiliar with the silver-haired girl—
that read as mid-to-upper-tier among the ordinary top-class.
…Not weak, but hardly dazzling.
But that ordinary carried dissonance in the eyes of a data savant like Obey—so much so it felt… deliberate.
She was hiding her strength.
And in a way subtler, more seamless than Obey's own hiding last year.
Last year, because of Kuroha's guidance,
Obey's concealment—aimed at delivering a "surprise"—had a touch of performance to it overall.
The People's Queen before her hid as if it were instinct etched into the marrow.
A raw jade wrapped in earth—emitting no light by choice—quietly waiting to be cut and revealed,
…0
and then, at the decisive instant, blazing with brilliance sharp enough to sting every eye.
"I see…"
Obey murmured, smoothing the crease from her brow. What replaced it was unprecedented gravity—
and a flicker of excitement at meeting a worthy rival.
Pirate Crowhawk's arrogance, Kelly Room's sloth, Ibubinch's pride…
All smoke and mirrors laid in the open.
This neighbor-next-door who swallowed every glint of edge into silence—that mare was the deepest whirlpool in this Japan Cup.
She would be the greatest obstacle on Obey's path to consecutive crowns.
"The Europeans' pre-race tuning is a little simplistic this time…"
Just then, a familiar voice at her side made Obey glance over.
A cute girl in a detective cap was watching the many overseas mares on track with serious eyes, jotting nonstop in a little notebook.
Nearby,
Berno Light looked from the infield back to the encircling stands, half exasperated—paparazzi and rival teams' analysts everywhere.
Well, with so many scouting parties around, who would ever flip their trump card in a place like this?
So she thought.
"Smack!"
"Eep—!"
A pale hand clapped down on Berno Light's shoulder, making her jolt.
Then a familiar, smiling face leaned in close.
"Light-chan, what are you doing here?"
(End of Chapter)
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