"One by one, the contenders take the stage! First, the reigning sovereign of France—Montjeu!"
Up in the commentary booth, Akasaka Misato introduced each athlete as they emerged from the tunnel.
Montjeu stepped out with practiced composure, offering a graceful nod to the crowd before walking straight toward El Condor Pasa.
"Your performance at the last Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe was truly spectacular," Montjeu remarked. "For this Japan Cup, I hope to find you even stronger than you were in Paris."
There was no petty trash-talk, only the effortless poise and dignity befitting a French champion.
El Condor Pasa flashed a wide, confident grin.
"You bet I am! I've been looking forward to the Japan Cup for a long time. This stage feels even grander than the Arc. I'm going to take that trophy and prove once and for all that I am the world's greatest Uma Musume!"
"Grander than the Arc?" Montjeu murmured, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
In a sense, while the Arc de Triomphe held more historical prestige, the sheer caliber of this year's Japan Cup lineup was leagues ahead.
Winning today would leave no room for debate; the victor would be the undisputed, gold-standard number one in the world.
"Then I shall look forward to it," Montjeu replied.
Montjeu wasn't wrong, but El Condor Pasa had another reason for her excitement. Beyond the star-studded roster, there was one factor that mattered above all else: Barbatos was in this race.
Without a doubt, the rival she had to watch—the one she had to beat—was Barbatos.
Nearby, the other French elites, Treve and Dancing Brave, felt a strange shift in the atmosphere.
They had attended Japanese G1 races as spectators before and knew how intense the local fans could be.
Usually, the cheers rivaled the thunder of the Arc, yet as they stepped onto the track, the reception was... quiet.
They knew Japanese fans followed international racing and were typically generous with their passion, welcoming foreign champions with roaring applause.
So why the silence? they wondered. It's not like we're in a rival territory.
"Hah, typical small-town energy," Fuma mocked under her breath. "Not even a clap for our entrance?"
The American champion didn't speak loudly, but the surrounding Uma Musume caught it.
To her, the lack of fanfare felt like the local audience was stuck in a "frog in a well" mentality.
Did they really think that just because El Condor Pasa beat Montjeu once, they could ignore the rest of the world's elite?
Titas tried to rationalize it. "Maybe they just don't follow the American circuit..."
Before she could finish, a low hum began to vibrate through the Tokyo Racecourse stands.
Then, it happened—a tidal wave of sound.
The stadium erupted in a deafening, earth-shaking roar as the fans welcomed the one they considered their true sovereign.
Perhaps the media praised El Condor Pasa as the world's best after her stint in France, but Barbatos was the one who consistently conjured miracles on home soil.
She was the anchor of their faith, the undisputed strongest in Japan.
Until the day Barbatos actually lost to El Condor Pasa, her support remained unshakable.
Dressed in her new racing silks, Barbatos was the last to emerge from the tunnel, her cape fluttering in the headwind.
She looked out at the sea of cheering fans and felt the collective gaze of every competitor on the field.
As she arrived, the Japanese Uma Musume seemed to find their center, gravitating toward her like iron filings to a magnet.
"You sure take your time," El Condor Pasa teased. "Last one out, huh?"
Barbatos shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? The Big Bad Boss always waits for the final act."
"And the Boss always gets taken down by the Hero," Seiun Sky added lazily.
"Usually, Heroes are humans. Everyone competing here is an Uma Musume," Barbatos countered, her eyes suddenly locking onto Grass Wonder. She let out a small "Oh?" of surprise.
Grass Wonder was enveloped in a faint blue shimmer. There was no aggressive pressure leaking out; it looked like her Zone was running at full power, yet it felt fundamentally different.
"Battle Spirit?" Barbatos asked.
"If I hadn't mastered Battle Spirit, I wouldn't have bothered showing up today," Grass Wonder said, opening her eyes to reveal emeralds that burned with intensity. "We've all done our homework."
Grass Wonder knew that with the Zone alone, she couldn't match the El Condor Pasa who won the Arc. Only by harnessing this spirit could she hope to challenge Barbatos for the crown.
"Wait, don't make it sound like you're all teaming up against me," Barbatos laughed, quickly shifting the spotlight. "Shouldn't you be more worried about how to handle Suzuka's breakaway lead?"
Silence Suzuka blinked, looking utterly lost as the focus suddenly shifted to her.
"Um... I was actually planning on just taking it easy at the back this time."
"Wait, really?" Special Week gasped, her eyes wide. She fully expected Suzuka to bolt for the lead as always.
Barbatos bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud in such a serious setting. Everyone else was stifling smirks too; no one believed Suzuka for a second—except for her teammate Special Week.
It was honestly adorable, and even Grass Wonder's competitive aura softened into a look of pure fondness toward the oblivious Special Week.
"Are they seriously ignoring us?"
A short distance away, Fuma crossed her arms, her lip curling in annoyance. She hated being sidelined.
Taiga, her hair tied in twin-tails, threw an arm over Fuma's shoulder with a grin. "Let them have their fun now. They won't be talking once the gates open."
Montjeu and her trio intended to exchange words with the Japanese number one, but seeing the officials moving into position, they turned toward the starting stalls. The battle was about to begin.
"The start is imminent! All contenders are now behind the gates!"
Locked in her stall, Barbatos had the American champion Fuma to her left and the French powerhouse Treve to her right. She didn't feel the need for pre-race banter.
She wasn't planning on racing overseas anytime soon, so there was little point in small talk.
Besides, even with her Tracen language classes, she wasn't sure if she should talk trash in French, English, or Japanese.
"Hey, 'Japan's Best,'" Fuma's voice rang out mockingly from the left. "I heard you can keep your Zone active for an entire race?"
Barbatos didn't answer. She just glanced over, wondering if this American champion hadn't watched her tapes or was just trying to get in her head.
Fuma didn't wait for a response. "That 'speed' you show in the Zone is like a turtle crawling. Let me show you what a real Zone looks like."
Just then, the ready lights flashed. The starter's flag dropped.
Suddenly, a massive explosion of pressure erupted from the gates. The sheer, invisible weight of it made the metal structures groan and rattle.
"What—?!"
Fuma's pupils shrank. She had just begun to deploy her own Zone, but as she looked around, her heart skipped a beat.
The French champions, and nearly every single Japanese runner, were radiating the same overwhelming aura. Their pressures were colliding in the air like physical strikes.
Clang!
The gates swung open. Instinct took over, and Fuma lunged forward alongside the pack.
But a single, frantic thought raced through her mind: What on earth is going on with this race!?
--+--
T/N: I have a Patreon! Webnovel will get 2 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.