Starting gates were essential. The closer a training race came to replicating an official event, the more effective the training would be.
While Gold Ship and Orfevre continued bickering, several Uma Musume worked together to wheel the starting gates into position. Everyone who had come to help was a veteran, and Kitasan Black was no longer the fresh debutante she had once been. The brief interruption did nothing to disrupt their paused warm-up. If anything, the shared effort brought them closer, sharpening their focus as they resumed loosening up and quickly reached race-ready condition.
Yasui saw no reason to waste time on unnecessary words.
Once Kitasan Black and the others had stepped into the gates exactly as they would in a real race, he ran his final checks.
"I've already set the gate timer. Thirty-second countdown on my display."
Tablet in one hand, stopwatch in the other, he studied the Uma Musume lined up inside the stalls. None of them answered. Every gaze was locked straight ahead. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and kept his eyes on the screen.
"Training race, 2400 meters, left-handed dirt track…"
"Start!"
The gates flew open.
In the very next instant, Yasui's pupils tightened.
Even with only six runners, the field split immediately.
Kitasan Black exploded out of the gate in a swift, precise break. Dark brown dirt sprayed beneath her feet. The muscles in her arms and legs—visible beneath her short-sleeved top and athletic shorts—flexed hard as she drove forward.
Yasui had long since confirmed her preferred style: an aggressive Front Runner approach. The instructions for this race had been exactly that, and she was executing them perfectly.
Right behind her came Special Week, Grass Wonder, and Vodka. All three possessed strong Pace Chaser instincts, and that was the role they had been given. Their first priority after the break was securing position, so their initial speed was high. At a glance it almost looked as though they intended to challenge Kitasan Black for the lead.
A beat slower, forming a loose line behind the four leaders, Deep Impact and Orfevre both suffered false starts.
From the side, the two seniors sat roughly half a length behind the front group. Deep Impact's expression was unchanged, though her eyes carried an unusual spark of excitement. Orfevre's lips were pushed out in clear displeasure.
"Ohhh! This one was talking about me earlier!" Gold Ship suddenly burst out laughing. "Turns out her own start is still that bad, hahaha!"
"Gold Ship, it's not very nice to say that about Orfevre, is it…?"
Silence Suzuka offered the gentle warning with a small smile, then pinched her chin thoughtfully.
"But from what I remember, Orfevre and Deep Impact… they really do struggle with their starts sometimes."
"It's pretty well known," Daiwa Scarlet added, her gaze serious. "The commentators have even joked about it in a few races. Still, they managed to win the Classic Triple Crown despite that weakness. Kita-chan can't afford to relax just because they had a false start."
"If the opponent has a strong finishing kick…" Silence Suzuka's brow furrowed slightly as she watched Kitasan Black's figure pulling away. "Kita-chan's posture and stride right now still need to be lower and tighter."
Listening to the conversation beside him, Yasui's thoughts moved quickly.
A false start from Deep Impact and Orfevre had been entirely expected; their past races and public training records showed it was hardly rare. That was precisely why their role in this training race had been set as Pace Chaser—so that even if they broke poorly, they could still settle into a solid position without ruining the session. It was their most comfortable style, so there was no concern about the training value being lost.
Just as Daiwa Scarlet and Silence Suzuka said, Kitasan Black could not afford to let her guard down. Her early-race management was still far from perfect.
On the track, Kitasan Black was already adjusting her breathing, shifting from the held breath of the start into the short, sharp rhythm needed to hold position. Her peripheral vision and the tips of her ears flicked backward without conscious thought.
All five seniors behind her felt like they could overtake her at any moment.
Special Week's heavy footsteps were muffled but relentless, pressing from the inner lane on her left-rear. Grass Wonder ran directly behind her; the chase tactic her trainer favored was obvious. That senpai's footsteps, gaze, and even breathing clung to her back like glue. Vodka sat a little farther back than at the break, positioned between the other two, her breathing, arm swing, and footfalls suggesting she was waiting for the right moment in mid-race.
The pressure from the two seniors at the very rear was even heavier.
Kitasan Black had heard their false start. Her peripheral vision had caught it too. Yet both sets of footsteps recovered direction in almost no time at all. One drifted inward, one outward, as if trying to bracket her. They applied pressure from one or two lengths back with a thunderous rhythm.
This distance. This positioning. This pace…
No.
I have to open up an even bigger lead.
I can't give them any more chances to squeeze me.
Her eyes sharpened. She accelerated the adjustments to her breathing, posture, and arm drive. She was no longer a rookie. Having dominated real races more than once, she understood exactly what the seniors were thinking.
No opponent wanted to let an aggressive Front Runner dictate the pace unchallenged. They would apply pressure through positioning, through the turns, through the cruising phases—anything to bleed her stamina.
To shake them off, she had to give them a reason to stop chasing.
Even if they were her seniors, she had to make them understand:
If you really think you can catch me right now… then go ahead and try.
Her gaze hardened. The moment her breathing, posture, and arm swing reached their most efficient state, Kitasan Black shortened her stride slightly, then drove her hooves forward with renewed force. Her racing shoes hammered the firm, elastic dirt. The headwind strengthened at once, stinging her eyes, but she ignored it and pushed harder still.
She did not need to look back. By sound alone she could tell that the three seniors who had been pressing her had eased their momentum. They were settling into proper Pace Chaser positioning, forming a staggered "two-one" formation behind her.
They had given up on challenging the lead. They were yielding the front to her and accepting the pace she set.
If the two seniors farther back did the same, she would enter the first turn with excellent tactical space and better winning chances.
Good. Special Week and the others have backed off. In that case, I can—
Eh, eh, eh?!
Just as a flicker of satisfaction crossed her mind, Kitasan Black's peripheral vision caught a figure appearing on the outside like a phantom.
Staring in disbelief, she let out an involuntary cry.
"Deep Impact… senpai?! This early in the race?!"
---
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