Monday.
A full month had passed since I officially enrolled in Tracen Academy.
The cherry blossoms were still in bloom, their petals dancing softly in the spring breeze. Their pale pink colors painted the campus skies with a serene beauty, and the air remained sweet, fresh, full of new beginnings. Excitement buzzed among the new students like a low-voltage current. Everywhere I looked, there were wide-eyed first-years exploring the grounds, stretching their legs on the practice tracks, or simply basking in the novelty of their new life.
It had only been a month. Realistically speaking, nothing much had changed.
Except me.
Or rather, my body.
We Umamusume have what we call the Prime, a once-in-a-lifetime phase when our physical, mental, and spiritual growth surges at an accelerated rate. It's when our potential blooms like spring itself. Every part of us sharpens. Our reflexes, our stamina, our strength, our instincts. It's the season of becoming, the biological signal that we are ready, or nearly ready, to begin racing seriously in the Twinkle Series.
Some enter their Prime early, some late. It is not uniform. There are girls who bloomed during their first year of middle school. Others did not catch their Prime until the tail end of high school. For me, it seems I am among the early bloomers.
Last week, I went to the infirmary after noticing some strange changes. My body felt hotter. My muscles ached in a way that was distinctly different from fatigue. I was hungrier than usual, and my recovery time from training had shortened drastically.
The infirmary nurse was… suspicious.
She wore a bright red masquerade mask that covered the top half of her face. Her uniform was an official white lab coat, but her mannerisms were so theatrical that I initially assumed she was a member of the drama club on her break. But then she showed me her URA assignment letter, complete with all the proper seals and stamps. I did not want to trust her, but I had no choice. Her diagnosis was the only one available for free.
"You, my dear child," she had said, her voice oddly musical and lilting, "have entered the first bloom of your Prime. Rejoice~"
I wasn't sure whether to rejoice or run.
And now, here I was. A week later after the discovery. I was sitting in my classroom, staring blankly at the history textbook open in front of me, wrestling with the single question that had plagued me since that day. Should I enter the selection race today?
I tapped my fingers against the polished wood of the desk.
Logically, the answer should be yes. If I want to join the Twinkle Series, I need a trainer. And to get a trainer, I need to show what I am capable of. The selection race is the primary stage for that. But emotionally? I was still deeply unsure.
Because even if my body was changing…
To put it in numbers, I would estimate a threefold increase across every physical metric. Strength, stamina, even reaction speed, everything has improved. If I were to compare myself to the girl who arrived here just last month, it was as if I had become someone entirely new. My body felt dense now, in a good way. The muscle in my thighs and calves was more defined. The tension in my hindquarters was tighter. During drills, I felt lighter and faster. I could hold my breath longer during swimming exercises. Even when I walk, my steps felt more connected to the ground, more powerful.
…even with all of that, I was still far from the top. My most recent performance proved it.
In a mock 1800-meter race just three days ago, I ran as a Pace Chaser, the racing style I was the most confident with. I started from the 12th post. Not ideal, but manageable. My start was solid. It was textbook, even. I positioned myself as the pace setter, dictating the race and putting myself in an advantageous position until the final corner. From there, I would make my move, take the lead, and explode down the homestretch.
That was the plan. It was a sound plan.
But the plan did not account for that part of me. That instinct. The part I thought was just a minor habit, my discomfort with having someone directly behind me, turned out to be a serious, exploitable flaw.
I panicked. It was subtle, maybe, but enough to throw off my entire pacing. Every time another Umamusume crept up behind me, I felt an irrational jolt of pressure, a primal urge to create distance. I couldn't help it. My body instinctively surged forward, trying to shake them off. I overexerted without realizing it, pushed too hard too soon, and burned through my reserves. By the time we hit the final corner, the consequences were clear.
Yes, I passed the frontrunners, just as I intended. It was a momentary victory.
But that was all I could do.
They regained the lead on the homestretch. The other pace chasers overtook me effortlessly, gliding past with the kind of smooth, practiced rhythm that spoke of perfect preparation and energy management. And then came the late surgers, those terrifyingly composed Umamusume who look like they are merely strolling for half the race, only to launch themselves like arrows in the final stretch.
And among them… was her.
King Halo.
She was like a comet. Her acceleration was monstrous, sharper and more explosive than anyone else's. Her stride was pure fire, each step growing stronger, faster, brighter. I felt her spirit roar as she passed me. It felt like I was being pulled into her orbit, as if even gravity obeyed her will.
She had the speed. The grit. The talent.
And me?
Seventh place. Out of sixteen. A deeply unsatisfactory result.
"King Halo... I am nowhere near her," I muttered under my breath, my eyes glazing over the print in my textbook.
Not yet, at least. But if I want to win, I have to beat her. To beat her, I have to get better. Stronger. Sharper. And to improve faster than her, I need the best trainer available. To get the best trainer, I need to catch their attention.
Selection races are the gateway. It is where trainers watch new candidates and decide who is worth investing in.
But the selection races are not a one-time thing. They will continue through the coming weeks before the official Make Debut season begins. I could wait. I could wait until I am more polished, until I understand myself better, until I have ironed out that… quirk of mine.
But time moves quickly in Tracen. There is always someone faster, stronger, more promising. If I wait too long, others may seize the spotlight. The top trainers might make their choices. My chances might dim before they even begin to shine. What if now, in this state, is my best chance to show my potential?
Even if I lose, I would gain valuable experience. I would learn my limits under official race conditions. And trainers do not just look at placements. They watch for potential. Heart. Determination. Strategy. I could still leave a mark.
But… I hate the feeling of losing. I want to win. I have to win. I will win. To enter a race without the complete conviction of victory feels like a betrayal of my own hearts.
"What should I do…" I whispered to the uncaring textbook. The words hung in the air, a perfect summary of the battle raging within me.
----
"Look at number twelve, she's good."
The roar of the crowd had not even settled yet, and already I could hear the cluster of trainers chatting nearby, their voices sharp and analytical.
"Number fourteen is not bad either. Her running form is the best among the others."
"And… of course, it's number five, Seiun Sky, huh. Her frontrunning style is different from Silence Suzuka's. She is more of a trickster. Everyone behind her did not even notice they had fallen into Seiun Sky's orchestra."
"Yeah, she's interesting. The way she manipulated the pacing of the race and gave the false impression of distance between herself and the rest was really disrupting the others' tempo. It is unbelievable, coming from a pre-debut Umamusume. I guess I will try to talk to her."
"You too, huh? Sorry man, I have quite an experience in training Frontrunners. She is going to choose me."
"Let's see then. For an intellect like her, I've got a better method in training."
"Now now, let us go. Other trainers are already moving. We do not want to be late, aight?"
"You are going too?"
"Of course I am, haha."
Hmm… that was quite a race.
I folded my arms and let out a slow breath as I kept my gaze on Seiun Sky jogging along the edge of the track. She did not even look tired. If I were in the shoes of the runners behind her, even if I tried to break the deadlock and disrupt her tactics, I doubt it would have been enough. It was not just her awareness of the race or her strategy. Even from the physical side, her legs, her breath control, her agility, she was already ahead of the curve.
Ugh. What a tricky situation.
Still, even with such a tricky and deceptive racing style, she caught the trainers' eyes instantly. That was Central Tracen for you. Nothing escaped their notice. Not talent, not tactics, not even the most unconventional methods. And since she finished first, it was only natural that she was getting swarmed now.
I turned my eyes toward her again. One trainer. Two. Three. Four… five… six… I stopped counting around ten.
"Tch…"
Meanwhile, the second and third-place finishers got some attention, but not nearly as much. The number of trainers dropped sharply as the finish rank went lower. You could say the crowd disappeared entirely after fourth place.
This looks bad. If my last mock race had been a selection race, maybe two or three trainers would have approached me. And let's be honest, they would not be the best of the bunch. Not like the ones crowding around Seiun Sky now.
I knew it might sound greedy. But if I wanted to face Umamusume like King Halo, or now, Seiun Sky, I needed the best trainer I could get. I would not make it otherwise.
That was why the trainer shortage in Central Tracen was such a serious problem. The numbers were lopsided. Around two thousand Umamusume were enrolled here. And the number of active Central Tracen-certified trainers? Less than fifty. The Central Trainer Licence was too hard. They said maybe only one new trainer got accepted per year. The screening was brutal. As a result, we Umamusume suffered.
Selection races were the only chance we had to stand out. The most common way to get scouted. But with so few trainers, those who did not shine immediately got ignored. Overlooked. Forgotten.
I had heard it a lot. Some of the girls who placed low were never approached. They tried not to show it, but others could tell. The way their smiles faltered. The way they started skipping meals. How they eventually stopped showing up to the track. Eventually, they transfer to the local circuits. Or worse, they retire.
Yes, this was the world we Umamusume live in. A world where only the winner got the privilege. You either win, or you vanish. Even second place was still a loss. If you did not shine, you would not be seen. Talent and hard work were just the entry ticket.
I exhaled slowly and shifted my attention back to the track. The second selection race of the day was about to start. I had heard King Halo was running today. That was half the reason I came. I wanted to see that blistering acceleration again, to witness it with my own eyes. I still had not decided whether I would run today myself.
Believe the terrain, not the map. Even if I did not race, I could at least feel the atmosphere for myself, not just from the stories of my classmates or the tales Meek-senpai had shared.
That was when I felt something poke at my shoe. Once. Then again.
"Hey. Move aside a little. I need that flower."
Huh?
I looked down. Standing beside me was a small girl wearing an enormous black witch's hat that nearly engulfed her head and shoulders. The brim drooped low over her face, casting it in shadow. A… witch cosplay?
"You hear me? Move aside. I need that flower." Her voice was flat and sharp, as if I had stepped on her broomstick by accident.
"Surely," I replied, stepping aside.
"Hmph! So slow," she said with a grumble, plucking a small white flower from the grass.
What a brat. If the children back home were this unruly, I would have made them eat vegetables for an entire day.
She turned and glared up at me. "What's with that look, huh? Oh, well well well. As a junior, you should not be giving your senpai that kind of look, you know? I might curse you in your sleep, you know??"
…What? This tiny thing is my senior? She is just a cosplayer, right?
"Ohhh, it looks like you do not believe me." Her grin widened with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Dear kouhai. A new student who just accepted a month ago. Believe it or not, this powerful witch is your senpai. You should be grateful!" She puffed out her chest like a stage magician revealing the final act of her performance.
I gripped my right hand tightly as my temple throbbed. Then she surprised me.
"Aren't you going to race today?" she chirped, practically bouncing on her toes. "If so, as your kind and gracious Senpai, I shall bestow upon you my latest invention! Behold, my newest 'Speed Potion!' With this, and the blessing of my support magic, I guarantee you will be faster than ever! Though... it only lasts thirty minutes!"
She thrust a suspiciously glowing blue bottle into my face with dramatic flair. Her other hand formed some strange pose, perhaps meant to look magical, but it looked more like a failed interpretive dance.
I looked at her. Then at the bottle. Then back at her. "No, I am not," I replied flatly, turning my gaze toward the starting lane in the distance. A lie? Perhaps. But it was also a kind of truth.
"Huh!? But isn't that in your left hand a registration form for today's selection race?" she asked, tilting her head with exaggerated disbelief. "Come on! If you are going to race anyway, you might as well try this! It has real mana crystals in it! Probably!" She shoved the bottle even closer. The liquid inside shimmered ominously like the surface of a haunted lake under moonlight.
"Am I to understand you require a subject for a trial of this... substance?" I blurted out, the words more formal than I intended. "As for the race, I have not yet decided."
I caught myself, clearing my throat. The words had come out stiffly, a bad habit. "I mean, I am not sure," I corrected, my tone more even. "And this whole arrangement feels suspect."
"Ehhhhhh!?" she cried in disbelief. "Come on! I am not that shady Tachyon! You can trust me! This is a powerful magic potion made directly by the most brilliant, most beautiful, most benevolent witch in all the land. Me!"
Each claim grew louder and more outrageous than the last. At this point, she sounded less like a senpai and more like someone trying to sell dubious energy crystals to middle schoolers.
"Magic, huh…?" I muttered. "Right. And I suppose your bottle glows because of, what, fairy dust?"
"No, dummy. Because of mana!" she puffed her cheeks. Still suspicious.
"And why me? Surely there are dozens of other girls around who might actually fall for your… 'support magic,'" I said, gesturing toward the courtyard where plenty of first-years were milling about.
"No. It has to be you," she insisted.
"Why though!?"
"Because it is you!" she said, as if that explained everything.
It made less than no sense. We had only just met. We had not exchanged names, had not so much as shaken hands, and she was already acting like I was her fated magical apprentice or something.
"Alright, let us slow down," I said, raising both palms in protest. "First, your logic makes absolutely no sense. Second, why would I drink some glowing liquid from a stranger I just met? Third, as I said, I am not even sure I want to race today." I folded my arms and stood my ground.
"Ughhh, what a pain," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as if I were the difficult one here. No. The pain is you.
"Umu umu umu! YOSH! Got it!" she suddenly declared.
"Huh?"
Without warning, she seized my wrist and began dragging me toward the selection race registration table like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Wh-Wha—!? Halt! What are you doing!?" I cried out. For someone so small, she could not be taller than 140 cm, her strength was unbelievable. Her grip was like a vice. How could someone this annoying also be this strong?
"Of course, I am taking you to register for the race!" she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I said I was not racing today!" I protested, digging in my heels.
"You said you were not sure. That is not the same as saying no," she shot back. "Besides, I saw the look on your face while you were watching earlier. You wanted to run. I am an Umamusume too. I know that look. That itching in your legs, that thudding in your chest. That yearning to feel the wind whip past your cheeks. Do not lie about it."
I flinched. It was as if she had read me like an open book. Or maybe she just said it so confidently that it became truth. She stopped dragging me for a moment and looked toward the track. I followed her gaze. There, the second race had entered its climax. King Halo and the others were surging down the homestretch. The air vibrated with tension, the sound of their run pounding the turf in rhythm with my heartbeat. Determination radiated from every single runner like sunlight. They were fighting. No one would surrender that first-place spot willingly.
And of course, King Halo took it. From the fifth position, she exploded with terrifying acceleration. She passed them all with ease, her eyes burning with resolve, and crossed the line five lengths ahead of the second-place runner. So strong. So fast. So… dazzling.
I was breathless. I wanted to run too. I wanted to feel that wind, to go toe-to-toe with powerful girls like her. To test myself on that sacred battlefield. To win.
"See?" Sweep Tosho said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "You want to run. What are you waiting for? Let's go." She released my hand. I stood there, stunned, staring down at my own two feet.
"Indeed," I finally murmured. "I want to race." I turned to her. "Thank you, Senpai… umm?"
Her eyes widened as if offended. "Hmph! How could you not know who I am!? You dare not recognize the most powerful witch in this entire Academy!? Listen well, ignorant child! My name is Sweep Tosho! Engrave it upon thy feeble memory!" She puffed out her nonexistent chest like some grand magician about to cast a legendary spell.
Ugh. She is still a brat. "Fine, fine…" I sighed, scratching my cheek. "By the way, Sweep-senpai… are you an active racer?"
Her eyes darted to the side. "Eh? N-Not yet! My prime has not come, obviously! But soon, yes, very soon! The magic mirror said so! It foretold my arrival! Soon, I will enter my Prime and sweep across the Twinkle Series like a magical snowstorm! HAHAHA!" She cackled dramatically. Somewhere in the distance, a crow probably squawked in confusion.
Wait. She is not even in her Prime? Then she is this strong without hitting it? Compared to her, I am…
"Senpai," I said, slowing my pace. "I… I think I still need more time. I still need to train more before—"
"YADAAAA!" she wailed dramatically, cutting me off. "We have arrived!"
"Wha—!?"
Before I knew it, we were at the registration table. And there, the registration form I had carefully folded and hidden in my pocket earlier was now laid out on the desk.
"Ma'am, please register her," Sweep Tosho said brightly to the woman in charge.
I blinked. Wait. How did she…!? When did she…!? That's my form! How did she even get that? I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out.
And so, with a faintly glowing blue bottle in my trembling hands and a knot of dread in my stomach, I sat there in the locker room, waiting. The fourth selection race of the day, my race, loomed just ahead.
Three Goddesses… please help me.