Faced with that terror, Musee Alien could only stare in shock.
In that split second, the pressure surged outward like a violent tide, flooding the entire course.
At the very front, Spirits Minoru's tense nerves jolted sharply. She reflexively turned her head, eyes widening.
In her vision, a black silhouette shot sideways—
And the next instant, like a heavily armored vehicle roaring into motion, it smashed through with unstoppable momentum.
The moment she saw it, Spirits Minoru's rhythm stumbled half a beat, nearly throwing her off balance.
Red Solomon, running second, also witnessed the "black war chariot" breaking free.
Every hair on her body stood on end. Driven by instinct, as though fleeing in desperation or fiercely defending her position, she surged forward in sudden acceleration.
Lia Fail felt the same shock as Musee Alien. When that overwhelming pressure hit, her body momentarily stiffened.
A heartbeat later, gritting her teeth, she pushed her legs forward in a frantic effort to distance herself from Kitasan Black.
At the same time, she silently prayed:
Don't come over here… don't come over here…
Meanwhile, Tagano Espresso was already suffocating from the pressure beside her.
At first, she'd secretly delighted in how this race was unfolding.
Through sheer luck and positioning, they'd pinned Kitasan Black down, tipping the scales of victory seemingly in her favor.
But she could never have imagined—boxed in tight one moment, then Kitasan Black breaking free in such an unimaginable way the next.
From Tagano Espresso's perspective, just before exiting the turn, Kitasan Black suddenly dropped her body low, every muscle bulging exaggeratedly, like a volcano about to erupt.
At the same moment, those crimson eyes filled with ruthless determination, veins visible along her neck, as though about to burst through her skin.
Then, the instant the rail vanished, Kitasan Black shot forward—as though propelled by some supernatural force, as though warping through space.
In the blink of an eye, she was clear.
Before anyone could even react—another "warp"—
Kitasan Black was already in first.
"How… is that possible…? H-how did she do that…?" Tagano Espresso murmured blankly.
Behind them, the Umamusume exiting the turn quickly realized the situation had reversed.
Real Steel's eyes instantly lit up, an excited grin spreading across her face. Her entire body boiled with exhilaration, and she couldn't suppress a low roar:
"This… This is Kitasan Black! Ha! Now, this is what makes racing fun!"
Satono Rasen, however, felt her pressure spike sharply.
She'd shared Tagano Espresso's original thinking.
Throughout this race, Kitasan Black had naturally been the one competitor worth watching. If the chaotic start had exhausted that strongest rival, her chances of victory would have greatly improved.
But now, staring at the black lightning far ahead, her breath hitched, emotions churning within her chest.
On one hand, she understood clearly: Kitasan Black in the lead meant her own path to victory just became infinitely more difficult.
Yet at the same time, without realizing it, a faint envy surfaced deep inside her.
That breakout—terrifyingly bold, but…
So free…
Free from family pressure—running with such total freedom…
"If only I could run like that…"
The sigh slipped out unintentionally, and her pace quickened, as if chasing after an impossibly distant silhouette.
At that very moment, the commentator's voice exploded, excitement boiling over instantly.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Kitasan Black—she's exploded forward!"
"In a completely unbelievable manner, she's escaped from the box and—instantly surged into first place!"
"Ladies and gentlemen! The 2015 Kikuka Sho is being written—right here, right now!"
The stands detonated too. Spectators sprang to their feet—some mouths agape in shock; some frantically waving flags and shouting Kitasan Black's name; others overcome by tears, already witnessing what felt like the birth of the Kikuka Sho champion.
Kitajima Saburō could no longer utter a sound. He simply stared at the leading figure on the track, a grin nearly splitting his face.
Yasui Makoto felt the same intense excitement, gripping his binoculars so tightly his knuckles whitened, fingernails rattling against the casing.
This chaotic scenario was precisely the one they'd prepared for—the worst-case situation.
After reviewing the list of entrants, he'd judged that with so many Front Runners, becoming boxed in was nearly inevitable.
And according to his personal rulebook, there was one guiding principle:
Anything that can go wrong will.
So among the special training drills, he'd specifically prepared Kitasan Black for this exact situation—assuming she'd have the worst luck and be boxed in.
To handle it, he'd considered every possibility: footage of past Kikuka Sho races, Kitasan Black's current strength, her endurance advantage, her speed…
Now, none of that preparation was wasted.
From the start, against even more aggressive opponents, she'd held back from fighting immediately for the lead—saving stamina and reading the other Front Runners' rhythms.
Then, boxed in naturally by the tightening pack, she'd used her exceptional sense of rhythm to adjust pace on the fly—widening the stamina gap and deepening her understanding of opponents.
Climbing normally, into the turn, through the turn, exiting the turn…
Then, at Kyoto Racecourse's unique long-distance-only breakout point, she'd unleashed explosive power unmatched by any other runner, seizing the lead in one move.
From here onward—for Kitasan Black, who had repeatedly trained to control the front—the remaining distance could be summarized in a single phrase:
"…A vast sea for fish to leap, an endless sky for birds to fly."
Watching the black figure tearing ahead on the track, Yasui Makoto couldn't help the satisfied smile forming on his lips.
"From here on… it's completely your rhythm, Kita-chan…"
...
Afternoon sunlight bathed Kyoto Racecourse. The track resembled a ribbon of blazing silk, faintly shimmering beneath the sun.
At its front was Kitasan Black.
Like a black meteor, each step kicked up small clouds of dust, an irresistible presence radiating from her.
Her black hair whipped wildly in the wind, asserting her dominance.
Behind her, Spirits Minoru and Red Solomon chased relentlessly, unwilling flames burning in their eyes.
Musee Alien and Lia Fail ran just behind them, their faces heavy—temporarily trailing but eyes still fiercely determined.
Tagano Espresso looked somewhat worn from the fierce pursuit, her earlier secret delight long vanished. Now she dared not slacken her pace even slightly, gaze fixed on Kitasan Black's back.
Real Steel and Satono Rasen remained in the mid-pack—one thrilled, the other conflicted.
Further back at the tail end, the remaining Umamusume strained to keep pace. The previously tight pack gradually stretched into a long line, tearing relentlessly toward the turn.
---
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Okay, real talk: I am extremely hungry for money, so I'm raising membership prices soon.
BUT.
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