It was July, and the summer heat had begun to settle in earnest.
Despite finishing a distant ninth in her debut race, Haru Urara was her usual radiant self, heading to the Tracen Academy with a spring in her step.
"Ah! Spe-chan! El-chan! Good morning!"
On her way to class, Urara spotted two of her friends and broke into a trot to catch up with them. These were Special Week—affectionately known as Spe-chan—and El Condor Pasa, or El-chan.
Though they were in different classes, Urara was a social butterfly who frequently visited other rooms; she seemed to have friends in every corner of the grade. Noticing her energetic approach, Special Week and El Condor Pasa softened their expressions and offered warm smiles in return.
"Good morning, Urara-chan," Special Week said.
"Good morning desu!" El added with a flourish.
Like Urara, Special Week was an Umamusume from the countryside. El Condor Pasa, on the other hand, was a "returnee" born in America, and her greetings were always a high-tension mix of accented Japanese and infectious energy.
"Come to think of it, Urara-chan, your debut race was yesterday, wasn't it?" Special Week asked gently. "How did it go?"
"I am also curious de-su! How was the result?"
Urara didn't hesitate. With a beaming smile, she delivered the news.
"I got ninth!"
"Ni... ninth?" Special Week stammered.
"Oh..." El's shoulders slumped slightly.
The two girls, faced with such a cheerful announcement of a loss, weren't quite sure how to react. They offered strained, awkward smiles. Urara, however, didn't seem to notice their hesitation and began hopping excitedly on the spot.
"Yep! But it was so much fun! How about you two?"
She asked with total innocence. Special Week and El Condor Pasa exchanged a brief, pained look before answering with humble, sheepish grins.
"I... managed to take first," Special Week admitted.
"I was first place too, desu!"
"Wow! That's amazing! You're both so incredible!"
Urara praised them with genuine, heartfelt joy. It was perhaps her greatest virtue—the ability to be truly happy for her friends' success without a trace of envy. Sensing this, the weight of their own victory lifted, and the two girls began to walk alongside her, free of guilt.
"What was the race itself like, Urara-chan?"
"Me? Well, I was doing great for a while, but then some sand flew up and got in my eyes! It really startled me!"
"That is the trouble with the dirt tracks," El nodded sympathetically. "But Urara, you will get that first place next time, de-su!"
"Yeah! My Trainer is helping me get faster every day. I'm already excited for the next one!"
Watching Urara's tail wag rhythmically with anticipation, her friends couldn't help but smile. At this point in her life, "racing" was synonymous with nothing but excitement and joy.
Then came the Maiden Race in early July. It was Urara's second start. This time, there were no freak accidents like the flying sand of her debut, but—
"Here they come! Mini Daisy holds the lead! They're neck-and-neck in the second group! Can anyone catch her?! Mini Daisy is pulling away! Wakuwaku Ribbon is making a move—and they're at the wire! It's a photo finish for third between Shabaranke, Compromise, and Haru Urara!"
The result was fifth place. For Urara, it was a milestone—the first time her number had appeared on the electronic scoreboard.
The race had been thrilling, as always. However, during the heat of the pack, she had felt the other girls marking her position, and for the first time, she felt a strange, tiny flicker of a new emotion: it... wasn't... fun.
Still, fifth was fifth. The unprecedented feeling in her chest was quickly washed away by her natural optimism.
"...I'm sorry, Urara."
And yet, despite her improvement, her Trainer bowed his head in apology. Urara stared at him, genuinely bewildered.
"Eh? Why are you apologizing, Trainer?"