Even watching from the side, anyone could clearly see one thing:
As though split into two dimensions, the seventeen Uma Musume hurtling forward were divided into two separate worlds at the boundary of lanes three and four.
Sixteen shadows galloped together down the well-trodden inner lanes, rushing toward the next corner along the straight facing the stands.
On the outside, as if holding her own private race, was the solitary, towering figure from the very rear of the pack.
The towering figure entered the corner as well.
In the blink of an eye, the wall-like shadows of her opponents to the right cast a long, stretching darkness.
When that darkness spread like ink onto her cheek, Gold Ship suddenly gritted her teeth, every muscle fiber in her body instantly trembling with tension.
The roaring cheers from the stands surged forward, but in her ears, all that remained was the pounding of her own heart pumping blood.
In the moment the pounding exploded within her, her sharp ears caught the startled gasp from Kizuna, the panicked jangling of bells ahead, the disrupted rhythm of footsteps, and countless shaken breaths.
Did you all feel it? The monstrous tidal wave of my winning hand…
But, you know...
It's a little too late now.
Murmuring soundlessly to the empty air, lips curled into a wild grin, her gaze locked on the leading group, she charged.
Instantly, huge waves surged up on the track, scattered grass and mud flying upward into foam-like sprays.
Each foam-like spray was strikingly similar, every single one cleaved cleanly into a perfect half-moon by her unmatched, monstrous force.
The announcer uncontrollably shouted:
"Here it comes! Here it comes!"
"The legendary unsinkable battleship!"
"At this very moment, the golden battleship...raises anchor and sets sail!"
The roaring cheers in the stands warped sharply with the announcer's screams, washing across the entire Kyoto Racecourse like muffled thunder echoing from the ocean depths.
The pack on the track seemed incapable of withstanding these overwhelming waves; once again, the rapid pounding footsteps along the back straight became blurred and stretched, sounding like the desperate cries of fish fleeing predators deep in the sea.
"Tenth! Seventh! Fifth... Fourth! Fourth place!"
The announcer's shout pierced through the sky. "Gold Ship has surged into fourth!"
"It's not a chase! Not a chase! Gold Ship is not using a chasing tactic today!"
"She's running in a stalking position! A stalking position!"
"Gold Ship is running from just behind the leaders!"
"She is now neck-and-neck with Curren Mirotic!"
"Ahead, Hokko Brave and Phantom Gale desperately flee; behind, Sounds of Earth and Denim and Ruby give frantic chase!"
"But..."
"Gold Ship is stalking today!"
Once again, the steep slope on the right side of Kyoto Racecourse faced the impact of seventeen Uma Musume. Seventeen silhouettes entered the final corner from different angles, like a pod of whales breaching waves.
Or rather, amidst the fleeing whales, a great battleship surged ahead, cleaving through wind and water.
The instant the entrance to the final straight was breached, the cheers from tens of thousands suddenly plunged beneath the ocean depths.
Inside the captain's cabin of the battleship, all boring, meaningless data vanished, leaving behind only the singular guidance of route and goal.
An intimately familiar sensation flooded Gold Ship's entire body.
Her tightly strung neck muscles suddenly quivered; tiny vibrations rolled down along her spine to the base of her tailbone, like the very first tremor of a fully drawn bowstring.
Wind pressure tore at her ears, a sharp pain at the roots of her fur forcing her to narrow her eyes slightly.
But her vision remained just as clear as when she'd first left port.
From the corner of her right eye, she precisely caught the jangling golden bells of Curren Mirotic's uniform, the fierce gust raised by Sounds of Earth behind, and even the silver streak of her own ponytail flicking through the air.
The dry scent of broken grass stalks mixed with earthy pungency flooded her nostrils. Hokko Brave's sweat droplets sprayed backward ahead, salty like spilled lemon-sea-salt soda.
Her heart pumped even more violently, each beat—ba-dump, ba-dump—sending numbing vibrations through her molars.
Her jaw involuntarily trembled, accidentally biting the tip of her tongue.
The sudden metallic taste burst within her mouth, the hint of blood acting as a switch awakening every muscle fiber to its utmost.
A small scrape suffered carelessly during training suddenly surfaced in her memory, alongside the unforgettable bitterness she tasted curiously when applying medicine.
Accompanied by that faint but lingering bitterness, the finish line she'd gazed toward twice before finally appeared.
A sudden choking sensation seized her; she uncontrollably wanted to gulp down air.
But she didn't.
Still maintaining the necessary breath control for the final sprint, she allowed only the tiniest gap between her lips, greedily snatching minuscule bits of precious oxygen.
Lips curled back fiercely, her teeth biting into the oncoming wind.
In a daze, it felt as though she bit into the training plans handed to her by Old Man; bit into nutritional supplements secretly left behind by her awkwardly affectionate sisters; bit into the playful teasing yet steadfast support of her friends; bit into the curious, admiring gazes of her juniors.
In the instant she kicked off the ground for the last time, she again felt her bones resonate with sounds traveling across distant seas.
This body was no longer a fragile sailboat, unable to withstand storms.
Every inch of muscle had soaked in winds, rains, frost, and snow; every vein surged with the sunlight and moonlight of training grounds; every inch of skin bore the warmth of victories and bitterness of defeats.
Closer now. That twice-crossed finish line was closer.
Suddenly, she remembered her reflection in the changing room mirror this morning.
That reflection showed not merely a tall, silver-haired Uma Musume deliberately making weird, playful faces.
It was the golden battleship that had sailed past a thousand vessels, unmatched, the only one of its kind.
Third voyage on this route—Eh...?
A sudden, overwhelming sense of exhaustion filled her body. Halting her steps in confusion, Gold Ship finally noticed that at some point, her ecstatic sprint had shifted into an inexplicable jog.
No, not inexplicable.
She'd crossed the finish line without realizing it, instinctively slowing into her habitual jog from daily training.
So this voyage, this time—what was the result exactly…?
Snapping awake, she swiftly turned toward the racecourse results board.
Before her blurred vision could focus clearly, deafening cheers mixed with the announcer's voice cracking like thunder roared into her ears like a tsunami.
"She did it! She did it!"
"At the very end! Passing Curren Mirotic, holding off Fame Game! She..."
"Did it!"
"Third attempt at the Tenno Sho (Spring)—the golden battleship arrives in Kyoto!"
"The winner of this Tenno Sho (Spring) is…"
"Gold Ship!!"
Dumbstruck once more, she stared blankly until the familiar yet oddly distant name sharpened clearly on the faraway board.
Her lips uncontrollably curled high upward, arms unconsciously raising in victory, fists loosely clenched, posing instinctively as she murmured:
"Well, this commentary sounds much better. But was that just now a haiku? Or was it a yokoren? It sounded pretty weird..."
"If it was a yokoren, shouldn't there be another line? What's the missing line again..."
"Ah, whatever, doesn't matter. In that case, Golshi-sama herself will provide it."
"What should I add..."
"Oh, right!"
"Ron! Hand it all over! Hahahaha!"
Laughing wildly, hands on her hips, oblivious to anyone else, she suddenly noticed that, on the inside of the track near the finish line, an elderly figure was waving toward her with a proud, joyful smile.
Beside the old man stood an Uma Musume with short black hair and twin braids, similarly smiling warmly and waving energetically.
Without thinking, surprised and delighted, Gold Ship charged forward. In a move that looked suspiciously like a kick, she jumped clear over the barrier.
Clearly startled, the black-haired Uma Musume hurriedly grabbed the old man and dodged backward, shooting an accusing glare.
Gold Ship ignored that look entirely. After steadying herself, she planted hands firmly on her hips and laughed loudly once more:
"Hey! Didn't I say there'd be absolutely no problem with this race?"
"You saw it clearly, didn't you, Old Man, Big Sis? I…"
"Did it!!"