"Five in the front pack, seven in the middle, six in the rear."
Up on the observation deck, Fujiwara Chiya kept his eyes locked on the racecourse.
No one in this race was running as an extreme Front Runner or an extreme End Closer. Everyone had chosen fairly conservative tactics.
"Firm turf. Counterclockwise…"
"Trainer Chiya?"
Hearing him murmur under his breath, Rudolf spoke up.
"Were you saying something?"
"President, it looks like we might get to see a pretty good race today."
"Ah… yes."
Rudolf nodded, though confusion lingered in her eyes.
Right now, El Condor Pasa was in the lead. Pilsudski sat in second. Air Groove was in fifth, Special Week in seventh, while Shirayuki was hanging farther back in twelfth.
Why choose that position?
With Shirayuki's ability, Rudolf felt that running as a Pace Chaser should have brought out her strength to the fullest. From the front pack, she could control her own rhythm and grasp the timing for acceleration more easily.
Based on Shirayuki's performance in Europe, Rudolf had thought the strategy with the highest chance of victory in the Japan Cup would be for her to take the lead from the start and carry it all the way to the finish.
But Shirayuki had not done that.
Maybe it was her own decision.
Maybe Trainer Chiya had told her to do it.
Either way, Shirayuki had the ability to break out of the pack, yet she had still chosen to run as a Late Surger.
Rudolf did not understand her tactics.
Within the pack, Shirayuki kept close to the rail.
She saw an uma musume slip past Special Week's side, nearly crashing into her.
Yes.
That was it.
Shirayuki had found it again.
The feeling of racing on the European stage.
Two thousand four hundred meters.
The same distance as the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
A familiar distance. Familiar clashes. Powerful world-class uma musume.
The only thing missing was the opponent who had once pressed down on her with that overwhelming sense of pressure.
This was an Arc without Trêve.
At that thought, Shirayuki could not help feeling a little lonely.
She was still in the middle of a race, yet the pressure on her shoulders felt so much lighter.
That would not do.
Uma musume grew through adversity.
Again and again, they reached their limits.
Again and again, they broke past them.
Just like Orfevre. She had already marked Shirayuki as her rival and declared that one day, she would definitely surpass her.
Then Shirayuki had to do everything in her power to help her.
Not only because she was Orfevre's trainer, but also because doing so would bring Shirayuki an intense, thrilling sense of tension.
Uma musume were contradictory creatures.
They were meant to get along in daily life, yet tear into one another on the track.
They longed for victory, yet also longed for a magnificent battle.
The deeper one thought about it, the more complicated uma musume became.
But if one stripped away all those surface layers and simply looked at what they did, then the answer was clear.
What uma musume pursued was joy through racing.
They were spirits born to run.
And Shirayuki was trembling with happiness at the fact that she, too, was an uma musume.
"The race has reached the second corner! In the lead is El Condor Pasa!"
The red monster bird tore across the turf.
Her high-frequency steps tapped rapidly against the ground. El Condor Pasa had dreamed countless times of racing Shirayuki again, and today, that wish had finally come true.
Looks like Yuki-chan chose to run as a Late Surger.
She's planning to sprint at the last moment.
Nope, not happening, Yuki-chan!
I won't let you get what you want!
Back then, Shirayuki had boxed her out and she had lost the race by accident. This time, El Condor Pasa would not allow the tragedy to repeat itself.
What Shirayuki had over her was no more than control over timing and distance. In terms of raw speed and stamina alone, there was barely any gap between them.
And today, El Condor Pasa had seized the front.
Naturally, she had to make full use of it.
She gradually increased her speed, altering the rhythm of the field.
This kind of high-tempo race was what she did best.
As long as she dragged everyone onto the same frequency as herself, she could rapidly burn through their stamina. And even if they failed to keep up, El Condor Pasa could still build her own advantage.
By the later stages, even if she did not have the stamina to sprint, Shirayuki would find it extremely difficult to catch her.
It was an open, blatant trap.
A strategy placed right under everyone's noses.
With no one blocking her at the front, El Condor Pasa could run however she wanted.
However, as if seeing through her intent, Pilsudski narrowed her eyes behind her.
At present, Snow Dancer was in the rear.
Pilsudski could not target her from this position, nor could she tell whether Snow Dancer had deliberately fallen back or had simply failed to fight through the other uma musume and been squeezed toward the back.
If it was the latter, then the title of "Empress" was completely wasted on her.
But if it was the former, Pilsudski could only be forced to change targets.
Rather than waiting for the Empress to make her move, she might as well run according to her own rhythm.
There was one problem, though.
The uma musume in front of her had been running strangely since earlier. Somehow, bit by bit, she seemed to be trying to open a gap.
After watching for a while, Pilsudski understood.
She was trying to lure her in.
Using high-frequency footwork to pull others into her rhythm and drain their stamina?
I see.
A clever move.
But you picked the wrong opponent.
The rhythm under Pilsudski's feet gradually quickened.
That running style only worked on the assumption that the opponent was not good at high-frequency steps.
Unfortunately for El Condor Pasa, Pilsudski excelled at that exact style.
Which meant their duel had now become a contest of physical ability.
"What?"
Hearing the familiar sound of footsteps, El Condor Pasa looked back.
The next thing she saw was Pilsudski drawing closer and closer.
Holding down the tension rising in her chest, El Condor Pasa lifted the corner of her mouth.
As expected of a world-class uma musume.
She would not be easy to deal with.
But I'm world-class too!
In the middle pack, Air Groove watched El Condor Pasa and Pilsudski locked in a fierce battle up ahead.
Their struggle had not only raised the overall pace of the field, it had also disrupted each other's rhythm.
The third corner was approaching.
Air Groove prepared to find the right timing and move into a position suited for acceleration as they entered the turn.
Special Week was behind her, separated by one other uma musume.
Air Groove could feel her gaze.
With Air Groove's experience, she knew that the moment she accelerated, Special Week would inevitably chase after her.
But in this race, whether it was Special Week, El Condor Pasa, or Pilsudski, none of them were her true opponent.
The greatest enemy in this race was her.
The girl who had inherited her title.
Air Groove had not heard any movement from Shirayuki this entire time.
She had remained tucked away in twelfth place without moving.
That was not normal.
That position was not especially suitable for Shirayuki to accelerate from. In fact, Shirayuki deliberately choosing twelfth place was strange in itself.
What exactly was she trying to do?
No one knew Shirayuki's goal.
In the stands, Orfevre furrowed her brow.
She completely ignored everyone else, her eyes fixed on Shirayuki without so much as blinking.
"Empress, what in the world are you doing? Show me your strength already. Do you intend to lose another race?"
Within the pack, Shirayuki's heart beat faster and faster.
Firm turf.
Counterclockwise.
Acceptable wind speed.
Shirayuki bent low.
With a full seven hundred meters still remaining before the finish line, she slammed her foot into the ground.