"Ohohohoho! It's King, after all! First place for a first-rate Umamusume!"
Even half-lost in my haze, I caught that familiar, ringing laugh echoing from just outside the locker room. My ears twitched in reflex. The voice carried with it the same unshakable confidence I had come to expect. That could only be one person.
From the sounds of shuffling steps and muffled chatter beyond the door, it seemed the runners from the previous race had finished their cool-down laps and post-race scoutings. They were now heading in to change.
I told myself I should go now, slip out before the incoming tide of bodies and noise. My own race was still a while away. But as I stood, the door banged open with a dramatic swing that rattled its hinges.
And there she was.
King Halo. Alone in all her glory.
She was still damp with sweat, strands of her light brown hair clinging to her cheeks, yet she somehow maintained an unshaken poise in every step. That was her. She moved with certainty and no hesitation, like someone who assumed the space around her already belonged to her.
She stopped mid-step and her eyes locked with mine.
I froze as well, caught in the moment like a rabbit in tall grass. The air hung between us, thick and silent. Her gaze was sharp yet unreadable, and my thoughts tumbled over themselves trying to find something proper to say.
To break the tension, I forced myself to speak. "A decisive victory. Your performance was... excellent." I caught myself, the words sounding too much like a report. "—I mean, good work out there, King-san."
She tilted her head slightly. Her breathing was still quick from the exertion but was already leveling out with practiced control. "Ohohohoho, of course! As a first-rate Umamusume, getting first place is a must!" she replied, every syllable dressed in unshakable confidence. "So? You will also run today, huh, Copenhagen-san?"
"It seems like it…" I muttered, my eyes flicking down to the blue bottle in my hand. I pressed my thumb against the cursed "Speed Potion" label that the infuriating little witch had given me earlier.
Her gaze lingered on me, sliding slowly from my head to my toes. I could almost feel her sizing me up, not cruelly, but with a clear, measuring intent. Then, without another word, she brushed past me toward her locker.
The faint scent of her hair, a mix of race sweat and expensive floral shampoo, drifted by, and I thought that was the end of it. But she spoke again, her voice slightly quieter but edged with the same steel as her running form.
"If you are not sure of running, just do not bother to do it." The click of her locker opening echoed in the brief pause. "It is disrespectful. To the other girls who will run with you, to the trainers, and to the spectators out there. A half-hearted effort would only tarnish the track."
Her back was to me now, but her words had landed squarely between my shoulder blades. 'A half-hearted effort would only tarnish the track.'
I just stood there, staring at the line of her shoulders. Without meaning to, another memory overlaid the scene: that same back pulling away from me in our mock race, widening the gap with effortless power. I hated that sight. I hated the feeling of losing. And now, she was telling me my effort wasn't enough. That it was disrespectful.
The noise in my head went quiet. My frustration didn't fade, it narrowed into a compact and solid point. And it was unleashed like a blade being drawn.
"And what do you know of my efforts?"
The words came out quiet, almost flat, stripped of any pleading.
King Halo paused, her hand on her locker, and glanced back slightly, sensing the change in the air.
I continued, my voice gaining a low, cutting edge. "Your victory is a matter of course. You possess the necessary tools. I do not. That is a fact."
My gaze dropped to the floor, but my words were aimed straight at her. "After all my training, all my runs, all I have done.. my strength is still insufficient, my speed is still lacking. Heh.. I was overpowered even by those who have yet to reach their Prime.. and yet you speak like all of these is a 'half-heartedness'."
I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto her reflection in the polished locker door.
"All of my effort may still appear as nothing to you. That shows the disparity between ourselves.. And I might as well congratulate you for you must have already pick your trainer."
My voice cracked near the end along with my depreciating smile. I had just let the rush of emotion spilling out unchecked. I had just lashed out at a classmate I barely knew, not out of reasoned argument, but pure, unadulterated frustration. My cheeks burned with shame.
This was partly Sweep-senpai's fault. That infuriating little witch and her earlier provocations had loosened something in me, and now here it was, spilling over at King-san of all people.
I sank back down on the bench, the bottle still cold in my hand. My eyes lowered to the blue glass as if it might offer me a way to rewind the last thirty seconds. I braced myself for a cutting retort, or worse, the cool, amused dismissal that would make my words feel even smaller.
But instead…
"Huh… there are none of those trainers who are the best for a first-rate Umamusume like me. So, nope, not yet," she said matter-of-factly, with not a hint of wounded pride. "I still need to find the best, the cream of the crop, among trainers! Ohohoho, because I am King!"
I blinked. That… was not the answer I had prepared for.
My guilt deepened. It was one thing to be angry at someone untouchably perfect. It was quite another when that same someone admitted to turning down opportunities others like me would kill for. That gap between us was not just speed or talent, after all.
"Pardo—" I began, but she cut in.
"You are indeed far from this King," she said plainly. "That is why you need everything you have just to even reach me. If even that is not enough, then it means your effort is still lacking." She turned, her crimson eyes locking onto mine. "You and I are Umamusume. Look at me, right now. I alone show that an Umamusume can run as fast as this. How about, say, Sunday Silence, she's Umamusume too, right? You must've heard about her."
She then pointed her index finger at me.
"You are one too, are you not? So it is entirely possible for you to reach me, or even to get past me. But whether you will or not…" Her lips curved into that trademark grin. "I will not let that happen! Ohohohoho! This King is a first-rate Umamusume, after all!"
Her tone softened slightly, losing some of its performative edge. "And… I know someone who never let losing kill her spirit, and I admire her. That is why—" She stopped mid-sentence, shaking her head as if clearing a thought.
"I challenge you," she declared, her voice ringing with sudden clarity. "Let us race in the Twinkle Series. Let us race to the best of our ability, where you and I can grab the glory of beating strong Umamusume. So do not give up. Make this King look at you as her rival!"
That reasoning… was oddly straightforward. 'If she can do it, then so can I' mindset without even considering other variables was not a wise mentality. And yet.. it lit something inside me, a small, defiant flame where only smoldering resentment had been before.
A short, sharp laugh escaped me. "An interesting proposition." My gaze met hers, the resentment in my chest solidifying into a new, clear objective. "Very well, King Halo. You require a rival. Then I will become one." I stood, my voice now steady and firm. "No. Not just 'one.' I will become the rival you cannot ignore."
"Ohohoho! Let us see if you really make it. This King will gladly watch you struggle," she said with a sly smile, turning toward the door. Her hand touched the handle, but she glanced back once more. "By the way, I like the way you speak, it has more character. At least it makes you stand out among others."
…Had I been speaking that way the whole time? Ugh.
Still… thank you, King-san.
I thought of what Meek-senpai had once told me about rivals. How they push you further, sharper, stronger. Just like Oguri-san, Tamamo-san, Inari-san, and Creek-san had done for her, I needed one for myself. And for now, earning King Halo's recognition as her greatest rival was enough of a goal to start with.
My first ever goal as an Umamusume in the racing world might not be as grand as winning the Triple Crown, but it was mine. A first step forward. Step by step. Methodical and steady improvement.
I reached into my pocket and drew out my Gold Cross. The lion engraved in the center gleamed faintly under the fluorescent lights, its gaze seeming to meet my own. I hooked it onto the small ring around my right ear, the only ornament I wore.
The weight felt right. I felt… like a complete Umamusume.
"Yosh!" I grinned, gripping the blue bottle tighter. "I will need every means at my disposal to reach that end. Just this once, Sweep-senpai, I shall place my trust in you."
With that, I uncapped the bottle and downed the mysterious liquid in one go.
"Oh… it is kinda sweet."
---
"Here I am…" I murmured, the words slipping out almost without permission as I stood behind the starting gate.
The air here smelled faintly of trampled turf and the faint metallic tang of the gate itself. Beyond the rails, voices carried over the track, a restless, buzzing noise that rose and fell like waves against the shore. Somewhere far behind me, the faint chime of the Academy's clock tower marked the hour. It was late in the day, but the air still held a bright, lingering warmth, the kind that clung stubbornly to the skin.
Minutes ago, the announcement had gone out from the loudspeakers, its voice crisp and authoritative. "The fourth and final selection race of the day will begin shortly. All runners, please proceed to the main track."
The words had struck me like a drumbeat, quickening my step even though my legs already felt taut with anticipation.
How I felt now was nothing like the strange, indecisive limbo I had been floating in earlier. That fog had burned away, not entirely, but enough for me to see a narrow path forward. It was like a flare lit in the depths of the night. It was not as bright as a blazing sun, but it was enough to cast light a few paces ahead, enough to remind me that the way forward existed at all.
My thoughts had settled into order, lining themselves up like soldiers in formation. Yes, my lack of ability was still a reality. Yes, my chances of being scouted were thin. And yes, losing today was more likely than winning. But all of that was folded away for later. King-san's words rang in my head. "You need everything you have just to even reach me." That was why I could not afford to use my mind to think about anything but the race.
So I let the noise of my doubts drop away. The only thing I allowed to exist now was the race itself. The starting gate, the curve of the track, the steady burn in my legs. If my mind wandered, if my performance faltered, I would not only be letting myself down. I would be insulting my competitors, the trainers, and the crowd that had gathered to watch.
Still, the nervous prickle in my stomach refused to vanish entirely. I could feel the crowd even without looking at them. The seniors leaning forward in their seats, the girls from my own year whispering among themselves on the stands along the homestretch. Their laughter and chatter reached me in scattered pieces between the louder bursts of cheering. Behind the outer railings, the trainers gathered in small knots, their arms folded, their eyes sharp. I could feel their stares as surely as the late-afternoon sun on my back.
Do not mind it, I told myself. The track is all that matters.
"Runners may enter the gate," then came the next announcement.
I drew in a slow breath and stepped forward. This was not my first time in a starting gate. The Academy's instructors sometimes had us practice with them in racing class. But familiarity did not erase the sensation of the narrow metal walls closing in around you, the sudden closeness of the air. The gate was more than a physical space. It was a pressure, a subtle weight settling over your shoulders.
I had read once that Umamusume often grew restless in confined spaces, especially here, where the air hung still and there was no room to shift your stance. I had felt it myself during those first practices. The quickening breath, the urge to step back, the sudden awareness of how little space there was behind me once the gate clanged shut.
Now, though, I met that sound with steadier lungs. My feet shifted on the packed grass, adjusting to the familiar, narrow stance. My hands curled lightly, and I lowered myself into a textbook starting posture. The view ahead was an intricate lattice of metal, with sunlight fractured into small, bright pieces.
No worries. I exhaled. Same strategy as before. A mile race, left turn, sixteen hundred meters in total. My post was number five of twelve runners. There was enough space between me and the rail to move without being boxed in, though I would need to be mindful of the inside runners. As for my… peculiar aversion to having anyone at my back, well, I would try my best to not mind it and keep my eyes forward.
Without me noticing, the play-by-play announcer's voice had begun to ring out over the speakers, bright and full of energy. [Number four is Jarajara! Judging by that expression, she is more than ready. She looks excited!]
I knew that voice. She was an Umamusume herself, often seen with Mejiro McQueen-san, and was quite an infamous one.
[Next is number five, Copenhagen,] she continued, and my name rang sharp and clear through the Academy's main track. [Another new student and early bloomer! It seems the winners of the previous three races were also from her grade. Let us see if she can keep the streak alive!]
The commentator's deeper voice joined hers, [Interesting. Quite a number of early bloomers this year. I look forward to seeing what this generation can do.]
It was almost surreal, hearing her voice here. Symboli Rudolf-san, the Student Council President herself. The Emperor. I had thought about it earlier while watching from the sidelines, but it struck me again now. This was just a selection race, yet Central Tracen treated it with the utmost seriousness. It had full commentary, crowds, the whole business.
I breathed out again, steadying myself. Stop overthinking it, focus.
[And last, number twelve, Tsurumaru Tsuyoshi," the narrator said. "From a distinguished racing lineage, she is the de facto number one favorite today. Let us see if she lives up to that expectation.]
[Indeed,"] Rudolf-san added calmly, with an air of contemplation. [Let us see what she brings to the track today.]
The air shifted. The line was complete. The tension in the main track pressed in like a held breath.
[The gate-in is complete…]
A sudden, violent metallic bang. The gates sprang open, and sunlight flooded my vision.
I drove forward with everything in me.
[And the race begins!]