Chapter 149: It's Not Our Turn Yet
Amidst the thunderous cheers from the packed grandstands, Gold Ship stood at one corner facing the track, waving toward Kitasan Black and Duramente as they waved back. A grin spread across her face as she turned to the others beside her.
"Hey, come on—say something, will you?"
Vodka, who was also smiling and waving, let out a groan.
"In a moment like this… what are we even supposed to say? And seriously, that finish—who'd have thought Kita-chan would actually lose?"
Gold Ship grimaced as if she'd been hit right in the chest.
"That's exactly why I'm asking! What are we supposed to say to comfort her afterward?"
"Well…"
Vodka hesitated, then glanced sideways at Daiwa Scarlet.
"Scarlet, what do you think? I mean—if you were the one who got caught up and overtaken at that speed right at the last second, how would you feel?"
Still waving toward Kitasan Black, Daiwa Scarlet paused, pretending to adjust her outfit before lowering her gaze.
"There's really nothing you can do."
"Huh?"
Vodka blinked. "Then what do we say to her later…?"
"Hey, Kita-chan's not as soft as you think," Daiwa Scarlet replied, sounding a little irritated. "If I had to say something, it'd be—next time, just run even faster."
"Faster, huh…? I thought Kita-chan was already fast enough…" Vodka's eyes drifted between Daiwa Scarlet and Silence Suzuka.
Catching her glance, Silence Suzuka met Daiwa Scarlet's eyes for a moment, then shook her head after a short silence.
"Kita-chan… isn't a pure speed-type front runner."
"If it were me, I'd pull ten lengths ahead before the final straight. Only that kind of margin could handle Duramente's closing kick."
"But that strategy doesn't necessarily work for 2400 meters or on the Tokyo Racecourse. Trying to open up that kind of gap too early just means you'll burn out before the finish line."
"Besides…"
As if uneasy, she rubbed her thigh with the hand hanging at her side.
"High-speed front running… Kita-chan's physical endurance is excellent, but that kind of pace is just asking for an accident. It doesn't suit her."
"Kita-chan already pushed her speed to the limit."
Before Vodka could finish, Tokai Teio, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up.
"And her race management, too, was at its limit."
"A bad gate and a breakneck opening pace—those two disadvantages alone can completely change the outcome of a Derby. Vodka, Week, you both know that better than anyone.
"Honestly, aside from McQueen and Scarlet, all of you have run in the Derby. You know what I'm talking about."
At that, aside from McQueen and Scarlet, the other Umamusume exchanged glances and sighed with helpless understanding before nodding.
"Handling an outside start and keeping up with a furious early pace, then fighting to regain the lead, open up a gap, and adjust your rhythm—all of that drains stamina."
"To be honest…"
A complicated yet proud smile flickered across Tokai Teio's face.
"When she hit that uphill stretch on the final straight, I… almost thought she was going to run out of steam."
"But just like Scarlet said, I don't think Kita-chan is the type to burst into tears and crumble over one defeat."
Her tone suddenly softened, and she forced a little smile to lighten the air.
"She's got a long road ahead. There'll be many more races like this, and she won't go down that easily."
"If we really have to say something to her, I think…"
Her gaze shifted slightly to the side, lips pressing together.
"…It's not our turn yet."
Several of the Umamusume noticed the look in Tokai Teio's eyes—and realized that, at this very moment, Kitasan Black's trainer, Makoto, was standing right beside them.
Right now, the one who must be the most worried, the most eager to say something to Kitasan Black, and the one feeling the most complicated emotions… was surely Makoto himself.
Even though their discussion came from good intentions, it could easily become an extra burden on someone directly involved.
Makoto, however, wasn't really paying attention to their conversation.
After the race results appeared, he'd stood silently for a moment, staring up at the display board showing the final rankings. His eyes, however, never left the figure of the girl standing just beyond the finish line.
When she finally walked toward the front of the grandstand, raising her hand in greeting, her gaze briefly met his. She smiled and waved again before turning to leave. Only then did Makoto turn to the others.
"I'll go check on Kitasan's condition. You guys—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen still looked calm, but the others' faces were filled with worry, their eyes darting back and forth between him and the direction Kitasan Black had gone.
"What's wrong with all of you?" he asked hesitantly.
After a brief exchange of glances among her friends, Daiwa Scarlet forced a small smile and was the first to speak.
"It's just… even though Kita-chan didn't win this time, we all know how hard she worked for it. You too, Makoto. So…"
"Yeah, and finishing with a record-breaking time is already amazing," Gold Ship quickly added. "Way better than I did back in the day, right?"
"Gold Ship… actually said something that nice?"
Special Week blurted out half a sentence before Silence Suzuka gave her a discreet nudge with her elbow. Startled, she quickly corrected herself.
"Right, right! Kita-chan's performance was really outstanding—she was incredible!"
After quietly reminding Special Week, Silence Suzuka and Vodka both turned to Makoto, their expressions a mix of worry and encouragement.
Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen were also looking his way, their eyes carrying the same kind of understanding and sympathy.
Realizing they were all trying to comfort him, Makoto felt a gentle warmth rise in his chest, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
He wasn't a stranger to failure.
Compared to these famous Umamusume before him, his past defeats weren't necessarily any less bitter.
Extreme sports, for all their showmanship, were still competitions at their core—and in such sports, the battles were often fought quite literally with one's life on the line.
Take hardline descent racing, for instance—the courses were often set on cliffsides, filled with rocks and steep slopes.
Winning wasn't the question. Making one mistake could mean ending up in the hospital—if you were lucky.
There were also wingsuit world championships, high-altitude speed skiing, extreme river rafting—all of them required every ounce of strength and will just to qualify, and giving everything you had was merely the starting line.
Having gone through all that, Makoto understood how to view things like "talent" and "genius." He'd long learned to accept that even total devotion and effort sometimes weren't enough to secure victory.
Of course, that didn't mean he was content with losing.
The instant the result was confirmed—after the brief blank shock in his mind—he'd already started thinking about the next race.
What was lost in one competition could only be reclaimed through another.
But such thoughts didn't need to be spoken aloud.
Competition was simple—it all came down to winning or losing. He'd understood that long ago, and he knew the only real way to accept defeat was to win the next time.
Still, he hadn't yet said any of this to Kitasan Black.
It seemed he still had things to learn—still had room to grow.
After a moment of thought, he looked back at the Umamusume before him and shook his head.
"Thank you, everyone. But honestly… I'm actually fine.
"Between me and Kitasan, I think she's the one who needs comfort right now.
"I'm heading to the infirmary to check on her. Do you want to come along?"
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