"So it's come to this..."
A pair of sharp, crystalline purple eyes turned towards the racetrack. Rudolf's gaze lingered on that black figure.
She had wondered what attitude the other would adopt in response to the URA.
Would she yield to the rumors they had spread and leave the track? Or would she resist the URA to the very end, until one side surrendered completely?
The black Uma Musume had resolutely chosen the latter.
It seemed irrational, but Rudolf felt this choice suited her character best.
That unyielding defiance she had shown that night—how could it possibly be shaken by a few careless words from others?
Yet, even so, when the surrounding crowd erupted into a torrent of criticism, Rudolf's fists clenched involuntarily.
Words held a power far greater than one might imagine.
They could reignite the will to live in a dying patient, yet they could also shatter the spirit of a seasoned warrior, leaving deep wounds.
On the track, it wasn't rare to see Uma Musume who, hearing the cheers and encouragement of others, found renewed strength and pushed beyond their limits.
The spirit, too, was nourishment for an Uma Musume's progress.
But what if... the opposite were true?
Rudolf listened to the voices condemning the black Uma Musume.
Every word, every syllable, was like a blunt, invisible chisel, slowly whittling away at her strength.
Do you not understand? No matter how proud and arrogant one may be, there will come a day when reality breaks them. Your nature led you to this choice, but will your will be enough to see you through?
Narrowing her eyes, Rudolf stared intently at the other.
This race would either give birth to a legend, or see her vanish on the track, becoming the most lamentable tale among countless stories.
And as for which direction the story would take?
Setting aside her status and position, Rudolf waited with a childlike, pure curiosity for the story to unfold.
--+--
"Currently leading the pack is Maruzensky, followed closely by Road Royal—"
After all the Uma Musume had left the starting gates, the announcer's voice echoed through the racecourse.
She too had noticed the spectators' discontent. To prevent the other runners from being negatively affected, she aimed to refocus everyone's attention on the race itself, away from external matters, through her commentary.
"Following closely are Long Live Free, Sirius Symboli, Dynamu Heroine..."
Oguri Cap and Narita Brian held their positions in the middle of the pack, while Tamamo Cross was at the very rear.
And right behind all the Uma Musume, the footsteps of the black ghost followed closely.
Without the overwhelming, violent pressure from before, the runners paid much less attention to the black ghost.
Moreover, with so many top contenders in this race, it was impossible for them to unanimously target and block the black ghost like last time, causing trouble for her.
In this race, anyone could win.
Road Royal, running in second place, felt a cold sweat trickle down her temple.
She had intended to burst into the lead right from the start, but the moment the gates flew open, a red figure shot out and swiftly took the front.
The lead position was taken!
Her strategy of going all out from the start to control the race with a front-running style had failed right at the beginning.
Maruzensky's initial speed was actually faster than her own all-out sprint!
Road Royal's eyes widened.
Meanwhile, Maruzensky, who seemed to have started and accelerated as usual without any particular extra effort, had settled into her customary position.
At this point, Road Royal's potential effectiveness was greatly diminished. Having failed the start, trying to contest the lead with Maruzensky now would only disrupt her own rhythm, contradicting her desire to control it.
There was no choice but to temporarily settle for second place.
--+--
"Maruzen's in good form, huh..."
Tosho Boy and the others, who had come to the venue early, watched their contemporary's first G1 graded race.
Those unfamiliar with Maruzensky might not know, but she only wore this particular smile—eyes slightly narrowed, lips curved—when she was truly, genuinely happy.
"To be this happy during the [Tenno Sho]... Compared to her, we who trembled with nerves before the race are just pathetic."
Ten Point couldn't help but mock herself.
She remembered her first time participating in the [Tenno Sho]. The surrounding gazes, the voices of her rivals, every rustle and sound—everything imposed an unbearably heavy pressure on her.
Though she constantly tried to psych herself up, her nervousness refused to ease, remaining tightly wound.
That Maruzensky could maintain such a mindset truly amazed her.
"Indeed," Tosho Boy nodded in agreement. "Running form and mindset are closely linked. The more relaxed the mindset, the more effortless the movements."
Like the extraordinary running form she herself had honed and mastered, it required controlling one's state while running, calming and slowing the mind, creating a feeling akin to 'floating.'
For Tosho Boy, mental state was an indispensable part of one's ability.
Speaking of which, Tosho Boy couldn't help but mention the black figure at the very back.
Her waterfall-like black hair swayed behind her. After the earlier dazzling spiritual onslaught, she was now running at the rear with her head lowered, her face hidden from view.
"Truly unfathomable..."
Stroking her chin, Tosho Boy couldn't help but murmur.
She had no interest in the words of the URA or the spectators. Others' attitudes ultimately couldn't define an Uma Musume's caliber. Only the racetrack could truly reveal a person's worth.
That was Tosho Boy's method of judging others.
And here, the other appeared deeply affected, stagnated, disheartened.
By her previous standards, Tosho Boy was ready to dismiss her and not waste any more attention.
But years of experience vetoed that thought.
There was something about that black Uma Musume.
Something elusive, indistinct, hard to make out.
What exactly was it?
As Tosho Boy pondered this, suddenly—
Snap!
Her arm was grabbed by someone. Turning her head, Tosho Boy saw Green Grass gripping her tightly.
"Green Grass?"
Her expression seemed somewhat terrifying, her gaze sharp as a blade, as if she could cut down everyone present.
"Ah, s-sorry..." Noticing her own action, Green Grass released her hand.
Her mood was extremely foul.
Even though she knew her 'kōhai' was in the eye of the storm of public opinion, even though she had mentally prepared herself...
Hearing the voices around them, she still felt intensely angry.
'Which of you has ever witnessed my kōhai's true form—?!'
Green Grass clenched her fists tightly.
Just before the race, during their final training session together, with a clear clang, the blade in Green Grass's hand had been snapped in two.
Her Zone had been completely shattered.
In her kōhai's hand rested a gleaming, sharply honed dagger.
A smile had played on her pale, snow-white face.
Her aura was restrained, leaving no trace.
'What is seen is not truly seen.'
'I've finally learned it, senpai—'
--+--
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.