From the stands, Kuroha and Rudolf watched the timing board in silence.
In Uma Musume races, each 200 meters is commonly treated as a single split.
At normal mid/long distances, cruise pace for most runners averages about 12 seconds per 200 m. In hotter races you might see 11.5, even flirting with 11 flat—but that's usually the territory of mile events.
Right now, though, everyone was staring, stunned. The number on the board seemed to freeze the air itself.
Fastest 200 m split—10.8 seconds!
These two were really…
Even Kuroha couldn't help being surprised as he looked down at the track, where two horse girls streaked like streams of light.
"1000 meters in 58.5 seconds! The race is running at an absolutely, absolutely outrageous tempo!"
The commentator covered his shock by all but screaming.
On the course, Creek quickly calmed her breathing and reset her rhythm. In her original timeline she was one of the strongest long-distance runners in existence, and the speed at which she adjusted was frightening.
The blue-haired girl narrowed her eyes at the two figures ahead.
Should she keep cooperating with this tempo? Judging by the way they were moving, they had zero intention of letting up…
But after only a heartbeat of thought, a firm smile rose on Creek's lips.
If it's a test of stamina, I welcome it.
Before the race, she and Fumino had studied every runner in the field.
Chasing Light's three trump cards: Inari One, Fujimasa March, and Obey Your Master.
Inari One possessed the best combination of stamina and burst. Creek knew she wouldn't have the edge in a pure endurance duel against Inari One.
Against Obey Your Master, though, she still had a sliver of confidence.
Besides…
Creek's gaze slid to Obey Your Master.
Position would decide victory.
"I'm just off her front quarter. The moment she goes, I can answer."
"If I don't keep up with this pace now, I'll lose all leverage over her and the race will devolve into a pure contest of technique and final-leg kick."
A final-leg shootout?
Creek remembered the terrifying late speed of Inari One and Fujimasa March and gave a tiny shake of her head.
If she could help it, she would never pick that kind of fight with a Chasing Light ace.
I need to act more proactively—right here.
Creek's expression hardened.
…
"The pack is entering the third corner!"
Wind howled. It was as if a gale grabbed every nearby runner and hurled them around the bend at a ridiculous tempo.
Beyond the deafening drum of hooves came the tearing hiss of slipstreams, rushing and scattering through the air.
"They've passed the 800 m to go mark—still no sign of the pace easing up!"
"Uooooooh—!!"
In the stands, the crowd—lit ablaze by a spectacle none of them had ever seen—rose as one and roared like a landslide.
…
On the track.
As time wore on, the group trying to hang with this monstrous tempo began to unravel.
Those two Front Runners up front would rank among the world's very best anywhere. But not every entrant in this Japan Cup was of that caliber…
"Hah… hah… h-hah…"
One runner had already hit the wall. Her breath wheezed like a broken bellows, lungs burning like fire, legs leaden and hard to lift.
Just hanging onto the group felt impossible now.
Damn it…
They're the Front Runners…
I didn't even follow their insane pace all the way…
So why am I like this already—and they can still keep going?!
She stared at the two figures ahead, seeming to run on the wind itself, despair filling her eyes.
What are they?!
This overseas runner—hailed as elite in her home country—felt a darkness prick at her heart.
This wasn't the racing she knew.
Or rather, this wasn't a race that should belong to her.
This… was a monsters' race.
"The race enters the final 600 meters!"
In the Tokyo Racecourse commentary booth, the female announcer was drenched in cold sweat but kept shouting dutifully into the mic.
Beside her, her partner just stared at the clock, dumbstruck.
This was a mid-distance 2400 m Japan Cup.
At 1800 m elapsed, their time had already surpassed historical records set in mile races.
"They're into the fourth turn! The final straight is dead ahead!"
"Ibu Bocchi still leads! Pirate Ravenhawk is right on her! How long can they hold on?!"
"Hah… hah…"
Ibu Bocchi's breathing had gone ragged. Sweat soaked her temples and slid down her cheeks.
The edges of her vision blurred as if nibbled by darkness. Every cell in her body screamed under the load.
But the white tracer glow in her pupils hadn't gone out. Like a candle in the gale, it instead flared to its limit.
"Time to… call it… good!"
Pirate Ravenhawk's voice grated like sandpaper as she throttled up to her own limit.
Every lift of the leg felt like tearing muscle. Her lungs burned like they'd swallowed a brand. The back of her throat tasted of iron.
That tracer light flaring from her very soul told her plainly: if she didn't hold back the last shred of strength now…
She'd have no path to victory.
The two ran shoulder to shoulder, speed still terrifying even as their forms wavered, slingshotting through the fourth turn.
"You think—hah—you can hold that spot in front of me forever?" Pirate Ravenhawk ground out.
"Hah… hah… Of course!"
At that, Ibu Bocchi actually smiled.
"As long as I'm leading from start to finish, I can definitely take first!"
"And… hah… more important than that spot… there's something I have to protect!"
In Ravenhawk's eyes, the tracer glow around the girl ahead flickered—and frost crept through it.
Tiny snowflakes seemed to glint inside.
"You…!"
Realization stabbed through her. Ravenhawk's pupils tightened.
This one was half a step from the world's strongest tier—
Even if that half-step was a chasm.
"Watch closely—hah—Pirate Queen!"
The bright, lively girl was gone. In her place on the course stood a pure warrior.
"Boom!"
The first step of her Domain surged, tracer light exploding into a torrent that raged across the track—and poured the very last of its power into Ibu Bocchi.
Riding that force, she roared, "This is me—Ibu Bocchi's—"
"The dignity—of Europe's mid-distance queen!!"
Icy radiance shot skyward, wrapped in a will so fierce it nearly took form.
Half a step deeper into her Domain, Ibu Bocchi flattened the rival at her side and began, step by step, to pull away.
"…"
Just as Ibu Bocchi braced to break Pirate Ravenhawk completely, a jet-black feather fell to the dirt.
"Vmm—!"
A tracer glow of the same order detonated. Snow-white and black-plume visions tangled, colliding madly.
"...Heh. Good."
Behind her, Pirate Ravenhawk—silent for so long—finally smiled.
"Then I'll do you the honor—of taking you as my enemy!"
Victory? Reason? Let them both burn.
Even if she lost today, inside this duel—she would win.
As a top runner of her nation, the instant Ravenhawk stepped forward she already sensed her defeat.
But—no more words.
Crack—!
Two flows, both nearly into the second step of Domain, smashed together and hurled this race into its endgame.
The final straight—right ahead!
"They're on the final straight!!"
The announcer's voice nearly broke.
"Ibu Bocchi still leads! Pirate Ravenhawk gives not an inch! They're still accelerating! My god—are they still accelerating?!"
In the stands, the tidal roar threatened to rip the roof away.
Every heart was lodged in every throat.
"Hah… hah…"
Back in the main group, the Arc heroine Ellerslie was grimacing now.
She stared at the two in front—Ibu Bocchi and Pirate Ravenhawk—neither slowing in the slightest even now.
And just behind them, Obey Your Master and Creek thundered on, steady as ever.
In that instant, she understood.
The distance might be the same.
But this wasn't like the Arc at all.
"So… that's it?"
Am I… too weak?
She wasn't like last year's Torni Bianca.
Both were Arc champions.
Torni Bianca had the power to chase down—and blow past—everyone ahead. Ellerslie… did not.
…
Drrrrrum—!
The entire field had now stepped into the endgame.
Creek bit down hard. A strange fog crept at the edges of her mind.
The brutal drain made clear thinking slippery.
"It's fine. Keep blocking Obey Your Master's best lane. I've still got enough for one last kick."
"Just like this—I can win."
Suddenly—
Vmmm—
A shadow like the star-strewn night unfurled and slid over the sky.
All things move as I intend. All things are mine to command.
In Creek's startled gaze, the golden-haired girl she'd "boxed in" the whole way lifted her chin and smiled—a sovereign's wild, arrogant smile.
A shame. All your struggling was just someone else's foil.
Ready?
It's time for my solo.
"Boom—!"
"Game over."
Domain—Wild Joker!!!
(End of Chapter)
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