Garden Gale had been thinking about one question.
—How do I beat Admire Vega?
It almost felt like a joke.
She'd made her vow—said she'd win the Wakagoma Stakes and entered precisely for that reason. Which meant she had to beat Admire Vega. Yet, even now…
She still hadn't figured out how.
No surprise there.
Admire Vega wasn't some easy opponent. She was the type who could rack up consecutive graded wins.
Not like Narita Top Road, a fresh-faced newcomer just starting out.
No matter how you looked at it—in ability, experience, the whole package—Admire Vega was stronger than Garden Gale, across the board. Her instincts were razor-sharp… Garden Gale had beaten Narita Top Road by taking a risk, pulling off a breathtaking corner acceleration. But if it came down to a straight fight in the final spurt…
It was hard to say.
And she had no idea whether Admire Vega would even give her that chance.
Thinking about it, Garden Gale let out another sigh.
Everyone thought she was strong—strong enough to crush the competition.
But… her real level still wasn't anything special!
So, what now?
She couldn't run away. She had to race, and she had to win. That meant the only option left was to bind herself with her own determination—use it to force her training, push herself relentlessly to keep getting stronger.
That was the only path.
A vow, and a restraint.
Her gaze began to turn toward tomorrow.
There were exactly two weeks left until the Wakagoma Stakes.
And in those two weeks—she'd put herself through hellish special training.
Special training, then growing stronger. That was it. If she wanted to beat Admire Vega… there was only one road.
...
4:05 AM.
An early spring morning, the air still carrying a bite of cold.
In a plain, almost embarrassingly frumpy hoodie, Garden Gale jogged along streets that hadn't yet woken, past dim streetlights still glowing, and onto the training track. Gradually, she warmed up, then sprinted—crossing the line at full speed. Afterward, she thrust her fists toward the bleak sky, like a lone tiger refusing to bow.
And it wasn't just for one day.
In other words…
Garden Gale—woke at 4:05 every morning to train. It was the quietest time, the best for focused practice. Morning efficiency was always strangely high, so she'd do physical conditioning early, return to the dorm, eat breakfast, read, shower, nap briefly, and then tackle the hardest session of the day in the afternoon. Even at night she wouldn't slack off—her training intensity was nearly as absurd as Tokai Teio's from that endless loop.
It wasn't human training anymore.
It was the kind of schedule even Umamusume struggled to endure: sleep reduced to the bare minimum, everything beyond eating and resting poured into running. Only under the shower—hot water spilling over her—did her mind clear briefly, granting her a sliver of quiet, empty space that belonged solely to her.
Total focus. Chasing the summit.
Because right now…
All that existed in Garden Gale's heart was running, and winning. Even her extreme social anxiety was pushed down—she'd win this race first and deal with everything else afterward. Fine Motion from Team LOCK had tried to approach her, wanting to ask what was going on lately, but Air Shakur had stopped her… leaving Fine Motion only to watch from afar.
She understood what Garden Gale was chasing.
In a state like this—how could she not get stronger? Growing stronger became as natural as eating and drinking.
For a full half-month, Garden Gale trained with that same relentless seriousness.
...
Time blurred past.
And when Garden Gale finally returned to herself—she stood on the stage of the Wakagoma Stakes.
Of course, not the Winner's Live. This was the battlefield itself—the racecourse. As the third favorite, Garden Gale kept her eyes lowered, quiet and inconspicuous. Yet beneath the chill in the air, she could almost smell gunpowder.
Did it matter?
Everyone wanted to win.
Garden Gale sensed that, too.
She raised her eyes, sweeping her gaze around.
Everywhere she looked, there were signs bearing Admire Vega's name.
Cool. Powerful. Mysterious. The one with consecutive graded wins—naturally, she had a crowd of followers. Never mind that her fans didn't understand why Admire Vega was entering an open-class (OP) race in the first place; they still turned up without hesitation, convinced she'd win.
Even the other Umamusume—saw Admire Vega as the obstacle to beat. Winning meant winning against Admire Vega.
—Garden Gale had thought the same, initially.
But—a flicker of irritation rose, teeth grinding slightly.
Ah…
So the star of this "running game" was going to be Admire Vega no matter what?
And nobody even noticed her?
Of course they wouldn't. She'd only run one race so far, and she was entering as the third favorite this time—just another nobody, a worthless small fry. What was there to shine about? No attention was only natural.
She clenched her fist.
Again and again, a hundred times over.
But then—this time, she loosened it. Like a child no longer baring teeth, no longer displaying claws—instead, she hid them away.
As if she'd stopped thinking about beating Admire Vega alone—but about beating everyone on this stretch of green.
There was something intriguing about Garden Gale: when she immersed herself completely in running, she forgot everything. Not just running—when truly absorbed in anything, she could forget it all. She slipped into that selfless state more easily than anyone; no explanation needed.
And the intriguing part was—what had begun to surface in Garden Gale, little by little:
During races… a mindset you could call "villainous."
It wasn't sudden.
From her debut race to the later final-spurt simulations—she carried that sort of "villain," "demon king" mentality capable of crushing something beautiful. It sounded absurdly, painfully chunni—like something from a high-school light novel that made readers curl their toes.
But it was real.
In a strange way, it even matched her habit of blurting outrageous things whenever her social anxiety spiked.
The call to the gate sounded.
The long-awaited Wakagoma Stakes was about to begin.
And then—everyone felt it: the presence of a predator on the hunt.
That prickling sensation crawled up their backs, raising gooseflesh, making their scalps tingle. Without realizing it, their mental stance shifted—putting themselves in the position of prey.
Even Admire Vega sensed it.
She snapped her head toward the source—and what she saw…was Garden Gale in a hoodie, wearing a bright, radiant smile.
A smile so innocent it seemed she'd come on a spring outing rather than to race—almost a little silly.
Admire Vega relaxed her guard.
Was it just her imagination?
That's what Admire Vega thought.
---
T/N: hehe cliffhang since the race starts next chapter (thats patreon talk)