"Number 12, Tokai Teio, has entered the starting gate! As the final contender to take her place, what kind of spectacular race will she deliver for us today?"
The passionate female commentator was exceptionally skilled at stirring up the crowd's excitement—or perhaps she was simply caught up in it herself.
After all, even the legendary Emperor had made an appearance today. How could a dedicated Uma Musume fan like herself not be thrilled?
As she finished speaking, the middle-aged male commentator, whose role was to keep the broadcast grounded, picked up smoothly.
"Alright, number 13, Dream Weaver, is now in the gate as well. The race is about to begin."
"Miss Akasaka, which Uma Musume are you most looking forward to watching today?"
"Of course, it's Tokai Teio! Don't tell me you have another choice, Mr. Sugimoto!"
"Well, I don't really— Oh! The race has started! Taking an early lead is number 2—going for a front-running strategy. Can she build a significant lead?"
Unlike the measured Mr. Sugimoto, Miss Akasaka jumped in with her trademark energetic commentary.
"Tokai Teio and the other front-runners are sticking close behind. It seems number 2 hasn't been able to build up enough speed!"
On the track, the Number 2 Uma Musume gritted her teeth at the commentators' words, fuming inwardly.
'How does she expect me to build speed in the rain like this?!'
'Dammit! I trained so hard for this front-running strategy, and now the weather ruins it. This rain is wrecking my debut—'
'Curse you, Tokai Teio! You must've brought this rain with you!'
Under the dual pressure of the terrible weather and Tokai Teio's intimidating presence, Number 2's focus shattered. Just after rounding the turn, her speed dropped off sharply, and she fell to the very back of the pack.
It was then, as the mid-pack runners reached the curve, that Number 2—still seething—suddenly sensed something approaching from behind.
If running ahead of Tokai Teio had felt like being pressed down by a genius's aura, then what was this ominous feeling closing in from behind now?!
She glanced around frantically, trying to read the other runners' expressions, hoping it was just her imagination.
But to her dismay, every Uma Musume in sight wore the same uneasy look she felt on her own face.
They could all feel it—something was about to happen.
"Currently trailing behind Number 7 are Number 5 and— What?! Number 13 is accelerating! But she's still in the middle of the curve! This is too reckle— What in the—?!"
Usually calm and articulate, Mr. Sugimoto found himself stumbling over his words, cutting himself off again and again within seconds. He couldn't even control his own expression—his mouth hung open, speechless.
At that moment, every Uma Musume on the track felt a piercing, chilling sensation and instinctively looked back.
Those in the mid-pack saw it most clearly: a dark figure was weaving through impossibly narrow gaps between runners with unbelievable trajectory.
A gust of wind kicked up by the burst of speed threw raindrops hard against their bodies, forcing them to squint. All they could make out was a glaring red streak, slicing through the curtain of rain, leaving a deep mark across the gray world.
"How is this possible?! How can anyone accelerate like this in the rain, and on a curve?! Is she not afraid of being thrown off?!"
Now it was Mr. Sugimoto who was shouting the loudest, while Miss Akasaka took over, providing detailed commentary for the audience.
"Number 5, Number 7, Number 10! So fast—she's blown past the entire mid-pack almost in an instant!"
Nice Nature, who had just broken away from the mid-pack runners, froze for a second when she heard the commentator. So that was the source of that bone-chilling aura.
'Was it her?' Nice Nature couldn't help but think of the Uma Musume who had shown her kindness earlier.
'Why does she seem like a completely different person on the track?'
Before she could dwell on it, that red streak shot past her like the sharpest blade cutting through the rain.
Even while still running, Nice Nature instinctively lifted a hand to her cheek on the side where the red light had passed.
It was cold—wet with rain.
But why did it feel like she'd been grazed by a blade?
She lifted her head, staring ahead in stunned disbelief.
"Incredible. How can there be an Uma Musume like this in a debut race?"
In the VIP room, Air Groove stood speechless, watching Dream Weaver's incredible dash. Known as the "Empress," she was even more shocked than the commentators or the runners on the track.
Everything she'd learned from years of racing experience told her what she was seeing was impossible.
Yet that red streak, so vivid it seemed to slice the rain apart, was undeniably real.
"Her form is still unrefined, her rhythm isn't systematically trained, and she shows no foundation in late-charge tactics—so how can she find the perfect racing line so flawlessly?!"
Air Groove stared intensely at the track. It was like watching someone from a primitive tribe accidentally discover how to build a nuclear weapon—and then actually build one.
"Air Groove, do we have her file?"
At Symboli Rudolf's question, Air Groove immediately turned and sifted through a stack of documents on the sofa. She found Dream Weaver's file and handed it over without even glancing at it.
A suffocating silence fell over the VIP room, broken only by the soft rustling of paper as Symboli Rudolf read.
A few seconds later, she snapped the file shut, grabbed it, and strode quickly toward the door.
"President, where are you going?"
Symboli Rudolf didn't even turn around at Air Groove's question.
"I need to see her. Immediately."
"What about the race? Aren't you going to watch?"
As the door clicked shut, Symboli Rudolf's final words reached Air Groove's ears:
"There's no need anymore."
Back on the track, the race had entered the final stretch.
Tokai Teio bit her lip, pushing her speed to the absolute limit. She felt like she was pushing beyond anything she'd achieved before.
And yet, that terrifying presence behind her wasn't fading—it was charging toward her at a speed that made her tremble.
Every pulse of blood, every beat of her heart, felt like a primal warning from her instincts sensing imminent danger.
But it was useless. No matter how hard she pushed her body to flee, the feeling of being hunted down by a natural predator wouldn't go away.
Then, in a flash, that razor-sharp sensation swept from behind to right beside her. The gust of wind whipped Tokai Teio's hair into chaos, and for a dazed moment, she felt like she was trapped in the midst of a natural disaster.
That red streak pulled ahead, and under its overwhelming pressure, Tokai Teio stretched out her hand desperately, as if trying to grasp the fading light.
But she could only watch as it vanished from her reach.
How… how is this possible…
By now, the stands had erupted. Most spectators might not understand racing tactics, the disadvantages of rainy conditions, or the nuances of an Uma Musume's form and rhythm.
But that blazing red streak, tearing past every other runner with lightning speed—that kind of impact was something even the most casual observer could feel. The gap was simply staggering.
"So cool! She's like a red comet!"
A high school-aged boy shook his friend's shoulders, shouting excitedly and pointing at the track.
"More like lightning! Cutting through the rain, swift as a thunderbolt!"
His friend adjusted his glasses coolly, offering his own take—though his slightly trembling hand betrayed his own excitement.
"Whoa, that's some fierce sword-like energy. So sharp it feels like it cut right through me, even all the way up here in the stands."
A disheveled, bearded man standing behind the two students kept rubbing his waist as if searching for something, inhaling sharply again and again.
"Fifty meters! Thirty! Ten! She's done it! Dream Weaver has crossed the finish line! A huge lead—an absolutely massive lead! That's got to be by ten lengths or more! What a spectacular performance! I could die happy after seeing that!"
After belting out that long string of commentary, Mr. Sugimoto collapsed into his chair like he'd run the race himself, a look of total fulfillment on his face.
Miss Akasaka, equally shaken, weakly took up the microphone and announced in a voice hoarse from shouting:
"Tokyo Racecourse! Uma Musume Debut Race!"
"The winner is—"
"Number 13! Dream Weaver!!!"
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.