Victory Gate POV
We've been staying at a hotel using the cash we arrived with for the past three days. It didn't take long to realize that, at best, we only had enough money to last three months—especially when you factor in the massive dietary needs of fifteen Uma Musume.
That realization led to yesterday's meeting, where we discussed our options for the future. Joining an academy was quickly ruled out. We had no academic records, all of us were over eighteen—our ages ranging from roughly eighteen to twenty-three—and many in the group refused to settle for mediocrity. That eliminated the possibility of regular jobs and small colleges.
Still, we were all athletes in our past lives, each of us involved in some form of running. As for me, I competed in cross-country. I was known for two things: leading my teams to championships as captain, and adapting to any situation on the fly. Fans even gave me a nickname—Captain Adaptor.
Because of that, when it came time to assign roles, I was elected team captain. My responsibilities included managing the team and recording everything we'd learned so far. Thankfully, I wasn't alone. Mama Blues became vice-captain, Tactical Gray took on the role of team strategist, and Tyrant Rose handled negotiations. With Great Wonder's business knowledge and Enduring Rain dealing with troublemakers through "hands-on conflict resolution," things felt… manageable.
It was Tactical Gray who discovered Free Style Racing. She found it while researching at the local library using their free internet. I remembered hearing about it before—this was the world Jungle Pocket came from prior to joining Tracen Academy in the movie.
Free Style Racing turned out to be far more hardcore than we'd expected.
Each event included standard turf and dirt races at various distances—what we knew as flats—but that was only the beginning. There were also team relays, obstacle races where the terrain constantly changed, filled with hills, sharp turns, hazards, and even free contact that allowed competitors to sabotage one another. Finally, there were mixed races that combined elements of all three.
The last two categories demanded parkour, freerunning, hurdling, and even combat skills. Distances ranged anywhere from explosive sprints to full marathons. It was chaotic, brutal—and perfect for us.
To top it all off, tournaments awarded bonus points for post-event concerts, in keeping with Uma Musume racing traditions. Once we saw the full picture, the decision was obvious.
We had our plan. All that remained was to present it to the team.
I called for a meeting and asked Tactical Gray to notify everyone once they arrived. She went far beyond that—she created and printed a brochure, then explained everything using a whiteboard that King Wild had apparently "borrowed" from somewhere.
How did she even get that? Did she steal it? And if Tactical Gray was this competent… should she be the team captain?
I took a slow, deep breath.
I was doing it again. My anxiety was creeping in, making me doubt my effectiveness as a leader. By the time I snapped out of it, no one was paying attention to me anymore.
"Hey, Cap," Tactical Gray said, glancing over. "You okay with the plan?"
"I'm fine with whatever the group decides," I replied—without realizing I hadn't listened to the last part at all.
That was enough.
"It's decided then!" Imperial Punk shouted. "We're entering the world of Free Style Racing!"
Cheers erupted across the room.
Everyone dispersed soon after, buzzing with excitement. I stayed behind, barely holding together a quiet panic attack. In this world, I had no coach—no mentor I could secretly consult without risking my reputation as a leader.
That's when I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.
I turned to see Mama Blues standing behind me, her expression serious.
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked.