Ignore the pack's tempo behind—her gaze stayed anchored on the silhouette ahead.
Admire Vega… here I fucking come!
Back onto the straight.
What she'd said earlier—catching her after the turn—wasn't just trash talk. It was real. And now, Garden Gale was about to explode.
Her lips curled faintly, a smile that was hard to name. Then—again, again—she wrung every last drop of strength from her body, pouring out everything she had.
No holding back.
All those moments of grinding and sweat… weren't they for this exact moment?
Faster…
Faster!!
Even her bones began to creak—proof of how desperately, how violently Garden Gale was forcing herself.
In the blink of an eye, her gaze changed—becoming the same as Admire Vega's.
A predator's stare.
Nothing but seriousness. Nothing but focus.
...
"That lunatic."
In the stands, the Emperor couldn't help muttering.
Damn it—again.
Yes, she'd cursed, but her mood really was that kind of mood. She didn't get it, genuinely. Every time—last time and this time—why go that hard by the second corner? They weren't even halfway through the race, and Garden Gale already looked close to full blast. Could she guarantee she wouldn't drop off at the end? It was absurd. Her running was strange, and her thinking was strange too.
In all the Umamusume Symboli Rudolf had known—Japan, Europe, anywhere—nobody raced like this.
Too weird.JPG.
Look again.JPG.
But…
just like she'd said.
Garden Gale kept evolving.
Watching Garden Gale, who seemed almost entirely transformed into Tokai Teio now, the Emperor didn't even realize she'd clenched her fist. Maybe, deep down, she truly was looking forward to this Umamusume's growth—hoping she'd go even farther.
Not just the Classic Triple Crown.
But the prize no one had taken yet—the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
Japan's eternal ache.
But in the next instant, Symboli Rudolf snapped back to herself and let the thought go, smiling wryly. It was too, too hard. Even the Emperor herself had never done it—winning that grand prize wasn't just conquering Japan, it was conquering the world.
Even the Emperor hadn't done it.
So… whatever happens, happens.
...
…Somehow—
Her body felt like it was being bound.
Her breathing wouldn't come.
Her legs—wouldn't go faster.
Why… why was this happening? Why was she stopping instead of moving forward!?
Move.
Move—run faster! Faster!!
Didn't she swear that even if she was alone, she'd become the brightest star?
Admire Vega clenched her teeth like she meant to bite through everything in her way. She told herself—she had to be in front, she had to—absolutely, absolutely, absolutely—not stop, not stall, not halt her forward stride, because this wasn't the finish line!
Only after she broke the tape—only then would she stop her journey and savor the joy of victory!
But—objective reality didn't bend to will.
No matter how badly Admire Vega wanted to win, how desperately she refused to lose, she could feel it: the pursuer behind her was getting closer!!!
It really was like hunting…
If she got caught, she'd be killed—by the most brutal method. Pinned down, throat bitten through, a single clean finish—victory taken in the most efficient way.
No… no.
Admire Vega didn't want that.
So move!
Why can't I run? Faster—faster!
Pass them… pass all of them—
Panic flickered across Admire Vega's face—helpless, frantic panic.
She panicked. She feared. She was afraid. No matter how hard she tried to push forward, it felt like one shadow after another was reaching from behind, grabbing her, dragging at her back—making it impossible for her to move.
Powerlessness became suffocation, clamping down on her throat until only a sigh remained.
"Isn't this enough already?"
"Is this all you can do?"
"Twins can't produce a top-tier Umamusume, can they…? Isn't winning graded stakes enough? What are you still reaching for?"
One shadow after another—as if to drag Admire Vega into an infinite hell named Rashomon.
No.
No…!
Admire Vega nearly bit her teeth to pieces.
And in that instant of hesitation—a figure slipped by with a gust of wind, overtaking her—passing her cleanly.
With that lowest center-of-gravity posture, she ran forward. When she passed, she didn't even spare Admire Vega a glance. But Admire Vega saw it—the pure seriousness and focus on her face.
And suddenly she understood: it was something she couldn't have.
And then—in an instant, there was no more running shoulder to shoulder.
Now, in front of Admire Vega, there was only a back.
A back she could only stare at—running forward without pause, without distraction, utterly pure.
And those shadows, one after another, dragged Admire Vega into hell. Her steps slowed. She fell into a stable pace with the pack's rhythm, losing her sharp edge—full of darkness. Even when she tried to run with everything she had, it was like… she'd reached her limit.
Everything pressed down on her like a mountain.
…Was she going to sink into mediocrity like this?
…Was she really going to watch Garden Gale take the title?
...
...
"GARDEN GALE—GARDEN GALE HAS PASSED ADMIRE VEGA!"
"SHE'S IN FRONT! IS GARDEN GALE GOING TO RUN AWAY WITH IT? THE PACE IS RISING—THE PACE IS RISING! ADMIRE VEGA HAS DROPPED BACK—SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE PACK! AND THE ONE CLEAR OF THE FIELD RIGHT NOW IS GARDEN GALE! LEADING EVERYONE! THAT LOW CENTER-OF-GRAVITY RUNNING FORM—LIKE SOMETHING CARVED BY THE HAND OF GOD!"
"CAN ANYONE CATCH HER?"
"OR IS GARDEN GALE GOING TO ESCAPE ALL THE WAY TO THE FINISH??"
The commentator's voice rose at the perfect moment.
Full of shock—shock at where this Umamusume had come from. Her performance was outstanding, unmistakably strong to any eye. She'd even suppressed Admire Vega for a moment, and before the race nearly everyone believed Admire Vega would win…
But now—the gap was opening. Garden Gale's break was clean. She might genuinely have the race in her hands.
As she spoke, she signaled urgently for an assistant to fetch Garden Gale's profile.
...
At this point—it was starting to look dicey. For a moment, Kyoto Racecourse almost turned into a library.
Then—voices of surprise rose in waves.
Don't misunderstand. It wasn't that everyone suddenly became Garden Gale fans on the spot.
It was because—everyone saw it.
Again.
With her face twisted in sheer unwillingness, bursting out of the pack—breaking through the dragging shadows behind her—
Admire Vega!
Her expression was nearly warped. It was armor forged from resolve and will.
I can't lose I can't lose I can't lose I can't lose I can't lose I can't lose I can't lose I can't lose I CAN'T LOSE!!!!!!!!!!!!
I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely cannot lose!