My apologies for this extreme delay, I had a really hard time trying to wrap my head around how should I wrap up these next chapters that it took me multiple months to make it happen.
But I'm back now and have stocked up 10 chapters in advance after I passed through that, so I'll start posting again at a relaxed pace.
As for the usual pleasantries, I will up the required power stone for the week to 100 power stones per user for an advance chapter, and for every 300 power stones accumulated for the week, I will also post an advance chapter corresponding to the complete amount in the week's end.
So gift more Power Stones to advance the chapter schedule. Thank you very much for your support and enjoy the chapter!
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Morning arrived at Tracen Academy not with silence, but with an unsettlingly normal routine.
Footsteps struck the turf track in a steady, rhythmic cadence. The sharp whistle from Belno Light's whistle cut cleanly through the damp air, and the wind carried the scent of wet grass, stirred by the passing of runners chasing speed, time, and glory.
From a distance, it looked like any other day. And yet, the air felt heavy.
Diamente stood near the edge of the training grounds, her arms loosely folded across her chest. Her posture was composed, her sharp eyes sweeping across the field, missing nothing.
The atmosphere was quieter today. Not in volume, but in spirit. It had only been several days since that devastating accident at the Derby, and the weight of its aftermath still hung over Team Spica like an invisible fog.
Her gaze finally settled on a familiar figure running along the inner lane.
Kitasan Black.
Kitasan's strides were too clean. It's controlled, efficient, and almost quite robotic in nature. Her steps were perfectly even, her breathing was mechanically steady.
To an outside observer, she looked like a model umamusume fully committed to her next race.
But Diamente narrowed her eyes, and knew that something was up.
She's trying to hide it.
Normally, Kitasan ran with a radiant brightness, an explosive energy that made it clear she loved being every single second on the track.
But now? That light was dim. It wasn't completely gone, but it was being suppressed, channeled into a flawless routine just to force herself to forget the entire thing that happened in the past.
"It may look like she's training normally," Diamente murmured under her breath, watching Kitasan slow down near the sidelines.
Kitasan offered a bright, wide smile as she exchanged a few words with King Kamehameha, even letting out a cheerful laugh. It was a convincing performance to those who don't know her well.
"...But her mind is completely somewhere else." Diamente muttered once more.
"Hmm? You noticed it too, didn't you?"
The light, familiar voice came from her side. Diamente didn't turn immediately, already knowing who it was.
Tokai Teio stood beside her, hands resting on her hips. For someone known for her boundless energy, Teio looked unusually subdued today. Her usual cheeky grin was replaced by a quiet, observant expression.
"She's doing everything right," Teio noted, her eyes tracking Kitasan as the younger girl resumed light stretches. "How she talks, how she ran just now and how she smiles."
"... it's quite a mask she's built there, Senpai," Diamente finished.
Teio let out a soft hum of agreement.
Nearby, a few other members of Team Spica began gathering, drawn together by the same unspoken concern. Special Week was the first to approach, her brows furrowed. "Um... you two are looking at Kita-chan too, right?"
Silence answered her question, a silence heavy with mutual understanding.
"She's been like that since what happened at the Derby," Special Week continued, lowering her voice. "I tried talking to her yesterday and asked if she's doing fine. She said she was perfectly fine, but..."
"Mm. She didn't look fine," Silence Suzuka added quietly, stepping up from behind. Her gaze was already fixed on Kitasan.
Gold Ship was notably absent, likely off causing chaos elsewhere, but the rest of the group naturally formed a loose circle, anchored by their shared worry.
"She's pushing herself too hard, isn't she?" Special Week asked softly.
"No," Diamente corrected, her voice flat. The single word drew everyone's eyes to her.
"She isn't pushing herself. If anything, she's trying to hold herself back. She's handling everything like a machine. Her pace, her expressions, her social interactions... there is no real passion in it."
"...for her to not make any mistake," Suzuka murmured, catching on.
"Precisely," Diamente added. "And because such feelings are being perfectly contained, there's no outlet for her grief. If she continues this, she may very well break down and crumble without any intervention from us."
A heavy quiet settled over the group.
"Should we do something?" Special Week asked hesitantly. "Like... cheer her up? Or force her into a hard training session to break the ice?"
"No," Teio spoke up, shaking her head before Diamente could. "That won't work. If we push her to open up to us too hard, she'll just withdraw further. And if we act like nothing's wrong, it just signals her that we're ignorant of her feelings."
"Then, are we just supposed to do nothing, then?" Special Week looked lost.
Diamente shifted her gaze away from Kitasan, looking at her teammates. "Not necessarily nothing. We just need ourselves to be present for her at all times. We let her know we are here through basic actions, but we do not interfere by asking her questions too intrusively unless she chooses to reach out to us first."
"That sounds... kind of hard," Special Week admitted.
"It is," Teio said with a small, wry smile. "But there are some things that can't be solved by running faster or cheering louder. Some things just take time. Right, Diamente-chan?"
Time. A simple answer, yet the only correct one.
Diamente watched Kitasan one last time. For a fleeting fraction of a second, Kitasan's shoulders sagged, her bright smile slipping into a look of profound exhaustion. But in the blink of an eye, the mask was back. She was smiling again.
"Ah, right," Special Week said, deliberately changing the subject to break the tension. "I heard something earlier. The Takarazuka Kinen is coming soon, right?"
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Diamente allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. "I think everyone is expecting a certain teammate of ours to actually behave and win their third victory this time."
Teio smirked. "That sounds like you have someone very specific in mind."
A silver-haired, eccentric troublemaker instantly flashed through everyone's thoughts.
"Has she passed her gate tests yet, Teio-senpai?" Diamente asked, thinking aloud.
"Given her... tendencies, it feels necessary to check."
Teio blinked, and then burst out laughing. "Ah! Right! That Gold Ship's problem!"
Even Suzuka's lips twitched with amusement.
"Wait, what problem?" Special Week asked, completely out of the loop.
Teio wiped a tear from her eye, trying to contain her giggles. "Let's just say... Gold Ship doesn't exactly believe in the concept of 'starting a race properly.' "
"...Or finishing predictably," Diamente finished.
Special Week blanked. "Oh. Yeah. She definitely needs a gate test."
"I'll go confirm her status with Trainer Okino myself," Diamente said, straightening her posture.
Teio raised an eyebrow. "You're going yourself? You've been taking on a lot lately, Dia-chan."
Diamente didn't answer directly. She looked back at Kitasan, who was now hanging out with another group of students and laughing.
"It's necessary," Diamente said simply. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the administrative building on her way to the secondary training field, leaving the rhythm of the main track behind.
==== 🐎Legend Changer🐎 ====
The secondary training field was a warzone of a different kind.
Trainer Okino was clutching his clipboard like a shield, sweating profusely as a pair of gate officials stood by with exasperated expressions.
In the center of it all was Gold Ship, currently wearing a traffic cone on her head and refusing to step into the starting gate.
Diamente approached, her footsteps quiet on the dirt path. "Is the gate test going as expected, Trainer?"
Okino practically jumped, turning around with a look of pure despair. "Diamente! Thank goodness. No, it's not! She's entered the gate five times, and three of those times she just sat down! The other two, she tried to climb over the back!"
Diamente sighed, stepping forward. "Gold Ship-senpai."
Gold Ship tilted the traffic cone back, revealing one bright, chaotic eye. "Oh? If it isn't Dia-chan! Did you bring cookies? If not, I am legally a statue and cannot move."
"Please take the cone off," Diamente said calmly.
Gold Ship snorted, tossing the cone aside with a dramatic flair. "Hmph. No appreciation for avant-garde fashion."
Diamente stepped closer, her voice dropping so Trainer Okino and officials couldn't hear. Her calm exterior masked a deep, roiling anxiety. In the history of her past life, a timeline only she carried in her memories, this upcoming Takarazuka Kinen was a disaster for Gold Ship.
The Gold Ship in that universe was supposed to completely butcher the start, losing their chance at a historic third consecutive victory and breaking the hearts of millions.
"Senpai," Diamente looked hard at the silver-haired girl. "Are you going to take the race seriously?"
Gold Ship blinked, her usual goofy demeanor softening into something uncharacteristically sharp.
She leaned against the starting gate, looking down at Diamente. "Serious? Dia-chan, I am always serious. I am seriously thinking about fried noodles right now."
"I'm being serious, Gold Ship-senpai," Diamente pressed, her fists clenching slightly. "Your attempt at this year's Takarazuka Kinen is different. History... Others' expectations... they are all riding on you. Aren't you afraid of failing? Aren't you afraid that your chill attitude towards it would ruin everything?"
Diamente was projecting. She knew it. She was terrified of the unchangeable nature of fate, terrified of what happened to Duramente, and terrified of Kitasan's current downward spiral.
Even with what she had done and changed the Spring Tenno Sho back then, now she felt powerless against the weight of the "canon" timeline.
Gold Ship stared at her for a long moment. The silence between them stretched, unusually heavy.
Then, Gold Ship let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed across the field. She reached out and aggressively ruffled Diamente's hair, completely ruining her neat ponytail look.
"S-Senpai—!" Diamente snapped, trying to swat her hand away.
"Listen here, Dia-chan," Gold Ship said, her voice suddenly dropping into a tone that was strangely grounded, almost wise. "You've got that look on your face again. The one where you think you're reading a book that's already been written."
Diamente froze.
"The past is a ghost, and the future doesn't exist yet," Gold Ship said, a smirk playing on her lips. "People get all bent out of shape trying to fit into boxes or worrying about what's 'supposed' to happen. But the track? The track doesn't care about your stories. It only cares about who crosses the line first."
She slapped a hand against the steel iron of the starting gate.
"Gold Ship-sama doesn't follow anyone's script! If the gate opens, I run! If I feel like winning, I win! Don't go crying about a future you haven't even seen yet. It makes your face look wrinkly."
Diamente stood frozen, the wind whipping past her face. The heavy anxiety that had been nesting in her chest for weeks suddenly felt... ridiculous.
Gold Ship wasn't bound by the shackles of fate, because Gold Ship fundamentally refused to acknowledge that fate had any authority over her.
A small, genuine laugh escaped Diamente's lips. "You really are an idiot, senpai."
"An idiot who's gonna win!" Gold Ship grinned, turning around and walking perfectly into the starting gate without a single complaint and then when the gate opened, she bolted out perfectly, leaving the gate officials completely stunned.
For the first time in quite a while, Diamente thinks that everything would definitely go alright for her.
"You actually managed to convince her…" Trainer Okino commented, approaching Diamente from the back.
"It's the opposite, Trainer-san," Diamente smiled as she watched Gold Ship run around the dirt track unimpeded, "I feel like she's the one that convinced me something else entirely."
==== 🐎Legend Changer🐎 ====
Later that evening, after the team had dispersed, Kitasan found herself sitting alone on the wooden bench near the old storehouses. The orange hue of the setting sun stretched long shadows across the empty track. She stared down at her hands, her shoulders trembling slightly as the smile completely melted off her face.
"Sitting out here in the cold will freeze your joints, kiddo."
Kitasan flinched, snapping her head up.
Nice Nature was leaning against the wooden railing, holding two warm cans of sweet tea. The seasoned veteran gave a small, weary smile, stepping over and offering one of the cans to Kitasan.
"Nature-san..." Kitasan mumbled, taking the warm can and holding it tightly between her hands. "I... I was just taking a break."
Nature sat down beside her, leaning back and popping the tab on her own drink. "You're a terrible liar, Kita-chan. You get that look on your face, it's the same one I used to get whenever I came in third and tried to convince myself I was satisfied."
Kitasan bit her lower lip, staring intently at the aluminum can. "I... I just don't get it, Nature-san."
"Get what?"
"Teio-senpai's running... When she won, everyone was smiling. Everyone was yelling and cheering, and it made you feel like... like the whole world was bright," Kitasan's voice began to quiver, the raw anguish finally leaking through her cracked mask. "I wanted to give that same feeling to everyone. But at that Derby... Duramente won, and then... and then she fell. Everyone was crying. The track felt so cold. If racing brings so much pain... how am I supposed to make anyone happy?"
Nice Nature listened silently, her eyes softening with deep, empathetic understanding. She knew the weight of unfulfilled dreams and the brutal reality of the track better than almost anyone.
Nature reached over, placing a warm, heavy hand on Kitasan's head, giving her hair a gentle ruffle.
"Kita-chan," Nature spoke softly, her tone carrying the quiet wisdom of a veteran who had survived countless heartbreaks. "The track isn't a fair place. It gives people moments of absolute magic, but it demands a terrifying price for it. You can't erase Duramente's pain, and you can't force the track to only produce happy endings."
Kitasan looked up, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Then... what am I running for?"
"That's not something you figure out overnight," Nature said gently, pulling her hand back and taking a sip of tea. "And it's definitely not something you solve by wearing a fake smile so your teammates won't worry about you. It's okay to be sad, Kita-chan. It's okay to feel lost. But don't abandon your dream just because the track showed you its dark side."
Kitasan clutched the warm can to her chest. Nice Nature's words didn't fix the gaping void in her chest, nor did they give her a magic answer. She was still terrified, still grieving, and still deeply conflicted.
"I... I don't know if I can do it," Kitasan whispered honestly.
"You don't have to know right now," Nature offered a gentle, reassuring smile. "Just keep breathing. One step at a time."
When Nature walked away, Kitasan was still sitting in the dark. The conversation hadn't cured her doubts, but for the first time, she stopped forcing herself to pretend she was okay. She carried that quiet, heavy turmoil within her, but she decided towards looking at a way to make things better for herself.
So that morning, Kitasan Black stood at the end of the quiet hospital hallway, a small bag of fruit clutched in her hands. She had come to visit Duramente. After the horrific accident at the Derby, Duramente had been confined here, her brilliant career suddenly put on a terrifying pause.
Kitasan took a deep breath, trying to plaster on that same bright, flawless smile she had been wearing all week. She raised her hand to knock on the door—
But stopped.
Through the small glass window of the room, she saw a familiar figure.
Air Groove.
The former student council vice-president, now a Student Council Advisor. The usually stern, unyielding, and terrifyingly efficient umamusume, was now sitting quietly in a chair beside Duramente's bed. She was peeling an apple with practiced, gentle movements.
Duramente was awake, looking out the window with a somber expression, but as Air Groove handed her a slice of the fruit and spoke in a low, encouraging tone, the tension in Duramente's shoulders visibly eased.
Kitasan lowered her hand.
She had noticed it over the last several days. Air Groove's constant, quiet visits. The way the formidable Student Council Advisor simply showed up, day after day, not to lecture or command, but to simply exist in the space with Duramente, sharing the heavy silence so Duramente wouldn't have to carry it alone.
"...we do not interfere by asking her questions too intrusively unless she chooses to reach out to us first."
Diamente's words from that morning echoed in Kitasan's mind since she could still hear their hushed conversation even from a distance away.
Looking at Air Groove and Duramente, Kitasan felt a sudden, sharp ache in her chest. She had been trying so hard to be strong, to be perfect, to smile so that no one would worry about her. She thought that hiding her pain was the right thing to do.
But seeing this... she realized how suffocating her own mask was.
Slowly, Kitasan stepped back from the door. She placed the bag of fruit gently on the nurse's station down the hall, leaving a small note, and walked out into the afternoon sun. The mask was still there, but for the first time, cracks were beginning to show even more.
==== 🐎Legend Changer🐎 ====
Hanshin Racecourse was deafening.
The crowd roared as the horse girls lined up for the Takarazuka Kinen. In the stands, Team Spica watched with bated breath. Diamente stood at the railing, her eyes locked onto Gate 15.
This is it, Diamente thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. In the past life, this is where the tragedy of the gate started. This is where the legend stumbles.
Inside the gate, Gold Ship herself stood perfectly still. The tension in the race course was palpable.
The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers: "They're in the gates... and..."
BANG!
The gates flew open.
Diamente's breath hitched. In her memory, Gold Ship was supposed to be delayed, losing lengths, losing the race before it even began.
Instead, with a powerful, explosive thrust of her legs, Gold Ship launched herself cleanly out of the gate. Her start was actually really flawless.
"She cleared it!" Special Week screamed, jumping up and down. "Gold Ship got a perfect start!"
Diamente's eyes widened. The script she had remembered got broken. The past life's canon event had just been completely shattered by a silver-haired horse girl who simply decided she didn't care about destiny.
In the end, the entirety of the race was a masterclass of sheer, unadulterated dominance from Gold Ship, who had surged to the front in the last 200m.
Gold Ship didn't just win; she humiliated the field. Coming around the final turn, she ignited her late-stage engines, leaving the competition in the dust as she crossed the finish line to a roaring, historic third consecutive Takarazuka Kinen victory over 3 lengths.
The crowd went entirely feral over such achievement.
Beside Diamente, Kitasan Black was staring at the track, her eyes wide, reflecting the brilliant, chaotic glare of Gold Ship lifting her arms in victory to the crowd.
That Gold Ship had run without fear. She had run without masks and she had won entirely on her own terms.
The crowd went entirely feral, a sea of cheering fans waving flags and screaming Gold Ship's name in pure, unfiltered ecstasy.
Beside Diamente, Kitasan Black stood frozen. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the brilliant, roaring stadium.
She looked at Gold Ship, who was striking ridiculous victory poses on the track, completely unbothered by expectations, history, or fear. Gold Ship had run purely for herself and her own resolve, and in doing so, she had brought every single person in this stadium to their feet, screaming with genuine, overflowing joy.
"It's still there…" Kitasan thought, her breath catching in her throat. "That magic... it's still there."
All the lingering anguish from the Derby, the heavy words she had shared with Nice Nature, the suffocating fear of causing pain, and the exhausting burden of wearing a brave face for Team Spica, it all collided inside her chest at once.
A hot tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by a heavy stream.
The robotic rigidity she had maintained for weeks completely crumbled. Her shoulders shook violently as she buried her face in her hands.
"Kita-chan?" Special Week gasped, turning toward her.
"Everyone..." Kitasan's voice trembled, breaking through the roar of the stadium as she sobbed openly. "I... I was so scared! After what happened to Duramente... I was terrified that my running wouldn't make anyone happy! I thought... I thought if I wasn't strong, if I wasn't smiling all the time, everyone would give up on me!"
Special Week didn't hesitate for a single second, stepping in and pulling Kitasan into a tight, warm embrace.
"You dummy," Tokai Teio said softly, stepping up and throwing her arms around both of them with a wry, affectionate smile. "You don't have to carry everything by yourself, you know."
Silence Suzuka reached out, resting a gentle, grounded hand on Kitasan's trembling shoulder.
Diamente turned her head, a soft, relieved smile gracing her lips. The heavy fog that had hung over Team Spica since the Derby was finally lifting.
Kitasan cried freely into Special Week's shoulder, letting out every drop of fear and grief she had bottled up. But for the first time in weeks, her chest felt light. This kind of dream wasn't dead. The festival wasn't over.
M
She looked up at her team through tear-filled eyes, seeing only warmth and unwavering support returning her gaze.
"I'm sorry..." Kitasan sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, a real, genuine if slightly messy, smile finally breaking through. "I'm... I'm really ready to run again. For the Kikuka Sho... I'll give it everything I've got!"
"That's the spirit!" Special Week cheered, wrapping an arm around Kitasan's neck.
Diamente looked up at the sunny sky above Hanshin Racecourse, exhaling a long, tranquil breath. The script of the past was broken, Kitasan was finally back, and though the road toward their respective futures was long, they would face it together.
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