The late-night air at the summer camp facility was cool, carrying the steady, rhythmic chirping of crickets outside the cabin windows.
Inside the dimly lit room, four Umamusume were gathered around a small wooden table on the tatami mats. The faint, crisp snapping of colorful cards broke the quiet hum of the night.
"Draw two, Teio," McQueen murmured, laying down a green card with practiced, elegant precision. She adjusted her pajama collar with a subtle posture of absolute composure. "Do enjoy your turn desu wa~"
"Gah! McQueen, you absolute villain!" Teio groaned, slapping two fresh UNO cards into her hand.
Diamente, meanwhile, sat cross-legged while holding a small hand of red and yellow cards with an unreadable expression. Beside her, Kitasan leaned forward, holding a handful of cards while studying the central discard pile with intense concentration.
Ever since her emotional breakdown at the Takarazuka Kinen, Kitasan's eyes had regained their bright, vibrant spark. But tonight, beneath her enthusiasm, there was an underlying weight.
The Kikuka Sho was looming closer on the autumn horizon.
"So, Kita-chan," Teio said, organizing her hand. "How are the late-night stamina drills feeling? Trainer-san said your split times on the long distances are getting crazy good."
"Ah... they're going well!" Kitasan replied, offering a warm smile before her gaze drifted down to her hand. "I've just been... thinking a lot lately. About our senpais like Symboli Rudolf-senpai, Deep Impact-senpai, Opera O-senpai...
"Seven G1 wins feels like an unscalable wall set as the absolute limit in Japan. Sometimes I wonder... is 'the impossible' just a line drawn in stone that we aren't meant to cross?"
Diamente silently laid down a red Reverse card onto the pile, snapping the direction of play back to Teio which she immediately dropped her card with McQueen putting the same-colored card down as well, before meeting Kitasan's gaze.
"Seven G1 wins is indeed a boundary, Kita-senpai," Diamente said, her voice smooth, calm, and resonant in the quiet cabin. "In the history of Japanese turf racing, those who reached seven became immortalized. It is considered the ultimate ceiling."
Kitasan nodded softly, playing a red Seven.
"Yeah..."
"Then let me ask you a question, Kita-senpai," Diamente continued, leaning forward slightly as if thinking of her next move.
"Why stop at seven?" Diamente asked.
Kitasan blinked, caught completely off guard.
Teio and McQueen stared at Diamente in surprise.
"W-What?" Kitasan stuttered, almost dropping her hand of cards. "Stop at... what do you mean?"
"If seven G1s is considered the absolute limit of we the Japanese umamusume can possibly achieve on the track..." Diamente said, her sharp eyes fixing onto Kitasan's with an unwavering intensity born from her knowledge of the future, "...then why should your vision end there? Why not aim for an eighth?"
"An... an eighth G1?!" Kitasan gasped, her jaw dropping. "B-But no one has ever done that! That's... that's literally impossible! To win eight G1 races before retirement—"
"Is it impossible because it hasn't been done, or is it impossible because no one dares to imagine it until someone forces it into reality?" Diamente countered smoothly.
Teio let out a low whistle, a slow, wide grin spreading across her face.
"Whoa there... eight G1s. Diamente-chan, you really don't hold back, do you?"
"I am merely speaking of perspective," Diamente replied, keeping her focus entirely on her senior. "Kita-senpai. You spent weeks believing that you had to be perfect to make people happy. You carried the fear of heartbreak, injury, and expectations until it crushed you. But look at why you run."
Diamente gestured toward the window, where the vast, dark expanse of the track lay waiting outside.
"When people watch someone aim for the ordinary, they are entertained," Diamente said softly. "When people watch someone fight through blood and sweat to reach the boundary of seven G1s, they are inspired. But when someone stands on the track, looks at an impossible wall like an eighth G1 title, and runs toward it without fear... that is when miracles happen.
"That is, what I think, what creates a festival that no one ever forgets."
Kita-senpai felt a sudden, electric jolt shoot straight through her heart.
"The impossible isn't a barrier designed to stop you, Kita-senpai," Diamente said, her voice dropping to a grounded, encouraging whisper. "It is an invitation. An invitation to prove that the story isn't finished until you yourself finishes it."
Diamente then drops a Yellow Seven card as if putting their attention back to the pile in the middle for a moment.
"Yeah!" Teio laughed, smacking Kitasan playfully on the back. "Don't get scared of things before you even start doing them!"
Teio then cheekily giggled as she dropped a +2 yellow card on the pile.
"She has a point, Kita-chan. If anyone has the boundless heart to chase something so absurd... it might just be you, desu wa." McQueen smiled gently, playing a +2 blue card, now adding the stacking to +4.
Kitasan sat frozen for a moment, letting the words settle deep into her soul. The overwhelming dread transformed into a burning fire in her chest.
"An eighth G1..." Kitasan whispered, her eyes shining with absolute clarity. She slapped her change color wild card and dropped a +4 card, her final card, onto the pile with an energetic flourish.
"UNO! And... I'm going to do it! I'm going to win the Kikuka Sho... and then I'm going to keep running until I break right through that wall!"
Diamente froze for a moment with her eyebrows twitching from how unlucky she should've gotten if the game hadn't ended yet.
She then allowed a subtle, satisfied smile to grace her lips.
Good thing the game already ended with Kitasan's win or she's gonna get that many cards herself, so she sighed in relief as she gathered the deck to reshuffle.
"Then let us see you take that first step, Kita-senpai," Diamente said softly. "Please redeal this, Teio-senpai. The night is still young."
She said as she pondered for a moment on what she had told Kitasan earlier. It then dawned to her as Teio starts to reshuffle the UNO deck.
'I think that can be done...' she thought to herself before lightly smiling herself.
==== 🐎Legend Changer🐎 ====
The heat of summer had finally begun to yield to the crisp breeze of early autumn. With the seaside summer camp concluded, Tracen Academy returned to its usual bustling rhythm as October approached.
The atmosphere in Team Spica's club room was charged with anticipation. Kitasan was already deep into her final preparations for the Asahi Hai St. Lite Kinen in the third week of September, her crucial prelude to the Kikuka Sho, while Gold Ship was lazily stretching in the corner, gearing up for her upcoming Autumn Tenno Sho campaign.
Yet, in the center of the room, a very different kind of intensity was unfolding.
Symboli Diamente sat at the main strategy table, almost completely buried behind a mountain of thick, leather-bound textbooks, hand-drawn charts, and endless stacks of handwritten notes. The frantic, rhythmic scratching of her pencil against paper echoed throughout the room.
Win Variation paused near the doorway, eyeing the massive stack of literature with a mixture of awe and concern. She walked over to the sofa where Daiwa Major was lounging, scrolling casually through her phone.
"Major-san," Win Variation whispered, gesturing toward the table. "What's going on over there? Did Diamente get assigned an entire semester's worth of punishment homework?"
Daiwa Major didn't even look up from her screen, letting out a dry chuckle. "Relax. She's just studying, same as usual. In her mind, working out her brain is just another form of track training."
"That looks a bit extreme for 'just studying'..." Win Variation muttered, watching Diamente furiously annotate a dense diagram.
The club room door opened with a soft click, and Belno Light stepped inside, holding a stack of training logs. It took her less than three seconds to notice the crowd gathered around the center table.
"What's the commotion about?" Belno asked, adjusting her glasses as she walked over.
Win Variation silently pointed at Diamente, who hadn't even noticed Belno enter, completely consumed in her research.
Curious, Belno leaned over Diamente's shoulder to take a peek at the papers strewn across the wooden surface. But as her eyes scanned the detailed scribbles, the assistant trainer's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened behind her lenses in absolute shock.
This wasn't high school coursework.
Breakdown charts of nutritional values and metabolic recovery statistics, detailed historical records of past Japanese international expeditions, and demanding racing schedules spanning multiple continents. Interspersed among them were dozens of heavily redacted, anonymous medical and physiological reports which were clearly provided courtesy of Dr. Tachyon's private laboratory, alongside opened medical textbooks on high-level Umamusume physiology and muscular anatomy.
And at the very top of the central notebook page Diamente was currently scribbling on, a single phrase was bolded and underlined twice:
"Methodologies for Total Physiological Recovery to Peak Condition Following an Extremely Strenuous International G1 Race Within 10 Days."
Belno felt a sudden chill run down her spine.
"Diamente-chan..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "What... what on earth are you researching?"
The frantic scratching of the pencil suddenly stopped.
The silence in the room became absolute. Daiwa Major paused her scrolling, Win Variation leaned in, and Gold Ship stopped her stretching to look over.
Diamente slowly set her pencil down onto the wooden table. She adjusted the stack of physiological charts with quiet, deliberate precision before raising her head. Her sharp, golden gaze met Belno's shocked expression with an unyielding, crystalline focus.
"I am attempting to solve a dilemma, Belno-senpai," Diamente said smoothly, her tone calm, grounded, and entirely devoid of hesitation. "Or rather, as I told Kita-senpai that night... I am preparing to achieve the impossible."
Belno swallowed hard, pointing a trembling finger at the underlined header on the notebook. "Ten days? Recovering from an international G1 in ten days? That's insane! No runner's body can handle that kind of strain without breaking apart long-term! Why would you even need to research something so absurd?!"
Diamente stood up slowly, resting her palms against the edge of the table. She looked across the room at her teammates, her voice carrying a weight that silenced every lingering sound in the room.
"Because," Diamente stated plainly, "After I debuted and go through the spring races during my upcoming Classic year, I intend to challenge the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe and also completing the third leg of the Triple Crown."
A collective gasp echoed through the club room.
"The... the Arc?!" Win Variation blurted out, her jaw practically hitting the floor. "In your Classic Year?!"
"The pinnacle of international turf..." Belno murmured, her hands shaking as she looked back down at the medical reports. "To travel to France, face the absolute brutal stamina test of Longchamp in October, and then recover in time to return…"
Diamente nodded as she easily guessed what she meant from the words she trailed before.
"Everyone says the Arc is a wall Japanese runners cannot cross," Diamente said softly, her eyes blazing with a quiet, terrifying ambition born from her knowledge of the future and her own unyielding spirit. "They say the logistics, the turf, and the physical toll make it an almost-impossible dream. But I have no intention of bowing to tradition or fear."
She picked up her pencil once more, tapping it lightly against the notebook.
"If the path does not exist, then I will simply calculate the exact science required to carve it open."
==== 🐎Legend Changer🐎 ====
"AND THEY TURN FOR HOME AT NAKAYAMA!"
The racecourse erupted into absolute chaos as the 15 runners hit the steep uphill climb of the home stretch.
"Musee Alien fights back on the inside, but Kitasan Black surges forward! KITASAN BLACK TAKES THE LEAD! BUT HERE COME THE PURSUERS! SATONO RASEN IS APPROACHING BUT WOULD THAT BE ENOUGH?!"
The final 200 meters turned into an absolute war of attrition.
Kitasan Black gritted her teeth, her chest heaving heavily as she drove her legs through the agonizing incline. Behind her, a terrifying wall of contenders surged forward in a blind frenzy.
Musee Alien refused to yield, clinging to her hip. On the inside, Jun Tsubasa squeezed through a microscopic gap. Wingtip unleashed a desperate sprint along the rail, while Beruf, Tanta Alegria, and Satono Rasen exploded from the outside.
"IT'S A DESPERATE CHARGE TO THE WIRE!" the commentator screamed over the deafening roars. "Kitasan Black holds a length lead! Musee Alien is fighting back! Jun Tsubasa on the inside! Wingtip is flying while Beruf, Tanta Alegria, and Satono Rasen are coming late on the outside!"
"Push through, Kita-chan!" Gold Ship yelled at the top of her lungs. "DON'T LET THEM CATCH YOU!"
Kitasan heard the roar of the crowd, but in her mind, there was only total, crystalline clarity. She didn't look back. She didn't flinch.
She drove her stride forward, running not out of fear, but out of absolute, unwavering purpose.
"Kitasan Black is holding them off! 50 meters to go! Musee Alien, Jun Tsubasa, Wingtip, Satono Rasen all pressing in a ferocious pack behind her, BUT KITASAN BLACK WILL NOT BE DENIED!"
Kitasan Black crossed the finish line with a full 3/4 of a length clear of the field. The 2nd to 7th place finishes were all just a few tens of milliseconds behind.
"KITASAN BLACK WINS THE ST. LITE KINEN!" the commentator bellowed. "A triumphant victory for Kitasan Black, holding off a thunderous late charge from the entire field! Second place goes to Musee Alien, holding off Jun Tsubasa, Wingtip, and Beruf in a heart-stopping photo finish for the minor places!"
The stands erupted into a massive ovation. Down on the track, Kitasan Black raised her fist to the crowd, her face lit up by a radiant, triumphant smile.
In the stands, Special Week was jumping up and down, hugging Suzuka. "She did it! She actually won it!"
"That was terrifyingly close behind her," Tokai Teio laughed, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Diamente looked down at her triumphant senior, a deep, satisfied smile settling onto her face.
Kitasan Black hadn't just won a race; she had controlled it from start to finish, absorbing the pressure of a dozen hungry chasers and refusing to yield an inch on the final climb.
"Looks like her foundation is finally complete," Diamente said softly to herself, watching her Kita-senpai wave to the cheering fans.
"She's ready for the Kikuka Sho."
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