Watching the race unfold, Komiyama's expression grew increasingly stern.
After the mock race between Maruzensky and Tosho Boy concluded that day, Komiyama had returned to his office and begun meticulously analyzing their performance data.
Maruzensky's early-phase speed was top-class; even in a real race like the Autumn Tenno Sho, she would undoubtedly rank among the very best.
This raised a critical question: in an official race, if the front-running Uma Musume couldn't overtake her, they would risk being controlled by her pace.
During the mock race, Maruzensky maintained a remarkably fast pace and could even accelerate further in the final stages.
This forced everyone else to match her speed, severely disrupting their own preferred rhythm.
Compared to Maruzensky's high-speed propulsion and sustained acceleration, Tamamo Cross's strength lay in her explosive final kick.
Given her smaller build, Tamamo Cross rarely mixed it up with the front or mid-pack runners.
Typically, she would bide her time at the rear of the field, then unleash a powerful surge down the final straight to overtake her rivals.
This astonishing ability to accelerate in a straight line from behind was perhaps the strongest among active competitors. At her peak, her speed had even left the so-called 'Mile Emperor' Akitsu Teio far behind.
Leveraging this strength, all Tamamo Cross needed to do was maintain her own rhythm and reach the final turn without falling too far behind.
The first part was within her control, but the second wasn't solely up to her.
It required decisive action from the front and mid-pack runners as well.
"All I can do is try my best…"
Komiyama gripped the handrail tightly.
--+--
Her azure eyes swiftly scanned the track. Leaving the pace-setting to Maruzensky meant there was no room for holding back in this race.
If the front-runners chose to keep up, the gap between the mid-pack and the rear would widen, stretching the entire field.
For Tamamo Cross, who relied on the chasing style, this was anything but good news.
As a running style that conserved stamina to unleash maximum speed late, the chaser also carried significant risks.
The most common and critical danger was getting boxed in.
During the final straight acceleration, when all Uma Musume pushed forward, the track often became crowded, with many runners forming a tight line.
In such situations, a late-charging chaser specialist could easily get trapped behind this wall of runners, unable to find a path through, missing her chance to accelerate and losing the race.
Of course, there were ways to break through.
Methods like those used by Sirius Symboli—weaving through the crowd—or Oguri Cap's raw power, bulldozing her way to the outside lane.
But Tamamo Cross lacked Sirius's refined technique, and she had no desire to waste extra energy forcing her way through like Oguri Cap.
She preferred a more ideal race scenario—this was the first major concern for a chasing runner.
The second was a fragmented field.
Where the front-runners became completely separated from the rear pack, the former pulled along by the leader's pace, while the latter stuck to their original rhythm.
While it might seem like the correct choice, it was actually quite dangerous.
In a race, a pace-setter with unique skills was like the "questioner," while all other Uma Musume were "problem-solvers," tasked with responding to the challenges she presented.
If they chose to ignore those challenges, they would effectively be ejected from the "examination paper" called the racetrack.
When some runners followed the leader's pace, it triggered a domino effect, irrevocably altering the flow of the entire race.
There was no such thing as an immutable strategy. Once the gap between the two groups grew beyond a certain point, it would be too late to mount a comeback.
An Uma Musume's sprinting distance had its limits—this was evident even in mock races.
The more experienced an Uma Musume was, the more she needed to understand trade-offs, find solutions, and master distance management.
But that mock race had only four runners. With the field expanded to over ten, Tamamo Cross's options would be far fewer—to the point where the decision was no longer in her hands.
She couldn't prevent the field from splitting.
So, if it happened, she would have no choice but to change strategy and force her way into the mid-pack.
Tamamo Cross didn't believe her final kick could close a massive gap against Maruzensky.
Distance was always the ultimate measure on the racetrack.
Speaking of which…
She tilted her head slightly, glancing behind her.
If we're talking about the very rear, that black Uma Musume was truly in last place, wasn't she?
She'd been silent since the start—unnervingly quiet.
Even with the crowd's influence, with your past abilities, you shouldn't be this utterly subdued!
But the moment her eyes fell on the other, Tamamo Cross's eyes widened in shock.
Hey, hey, hey… you've got to be kidding me…
Tamamo Cross couldn't believe it.
Why were her footsteps so heavy!?
Lift, fall, lift, fall…
As if invisible stones were tied to her ankles, dragging her down.
Why was this happening!?
Where had that overwhelming pressure she once radiated gone!?
The stands still echoed with the crowd's sneers and taunts. They waved banners as if shooing away a ghost, and under those banners, even her golden eyes seemed to dim.
This girl… hasn't she already given up?
Tamamo Cross's heart sank.
What a joke! Are you really going to let this race end like some pathetic farce?
All because of these pointless, malicious words!?
Get your head in the game, you—!
But no matter what Tamamo Cross thought, the black ghost's presence behind her grew weaker and weaker. From the faint, wild restlessness she'd shown leaving the starting gate, she now seemed no different from any ordinary Uma Musume.
If not for that memorable black coat, Tamamo Cross would never have linked her to the terrifying beast that had once trampled the track, defeating Sirius Symboli and Oguri Cap.
By the time the race entered the first turn, her footsteps, her presence—none of it was fit for a competitor!
She looked lost, broken, to the point where Tamamo Cross wondered, 'Is this girl even racing at all?'
Damn it!
Where are your bold declarations? Where's that unyielding pride!? Have you thrown it all away like garbage!?
Tamamo Cross gritted her teeth, but there was nothing she could do.
She couldn't change someone else's mind.
Cursing inwardly, she turned her attention away.
An opponent at this level… was no longer a threat.
No need to keep watching.
It wasn't just Tamamo Cross. From the mid-pack, Oguri Cap and Narita Brian also cast glances her way.
Confusion, surprise, doubt, bewilderment… all sorts of emotions swirled in their eyes.
Watching that black figure struggle through the mud, each step a labor, Oguri Cap clenched her fists.
She didn't possess even a hundredth, a thousandth of the intimidating aura she'd once had.
Could it be… you've really been affected by all that filthy slander…
"Hah, look at her. Is she even fit to be on the track?"
"Learn how to walk first!"
"Don't embarrass yourself here—"
One vile comment after another rose as the spectators noticed the black Uma Musume's stumbling form. She couldn't even run straight or steady now, resembling a patient barely recovered from a severe illness.
--+--
"These people…"
In the stands, Belno Light's expression was deeply troubled.
She wanted Oguri Cap to defeat that black Uma Musume on the track and reclaim victory—but not like this. Not by the opponent being mentally shaken and underperforming due to the crowd's noise.
If victory came through such means, Oguri Cap would never accept it!
Belno Light desperately wanted to shout, to tell them to shut up and stop interfering with the competitors. But against the overwhelming tide of voices, her own was far too weak.
Only now did Belno Light realize how difficult it was to make her own voice heard amid the crowd's condemnation.
Her body tense, Belno Light patted her own cheeks.
The surrounding situation only disgusted her.
Just as she was trying, again and again, to refocus her attention…
"This is…"
She suddenly heard a murmur.
She glanced sideways at Musaka Ginjirou.
He gripped his cane tightly, cold sweat beading on his forehead, an indescribable expression on his face.
His eyes fixed on the black figure at the very back, Musaka Ginjirou slowly spoke.
"Mimicry…"
--+--
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.