The days following the [Sankei Hai All Comers] were far from calm.
Belno's victory over Mejiro Ardan during the race had put Team Kitahara back into the spotlight. After all, it'd been months since any of us actually raced, and Belno's victory had once more captivated them. A showing that the months we'd spent away from the racing world had only served to make us stronger.
Of course, that wasn't the only thing. Belno and Ardan's final struggle had been something worthy to be remembered. At that moment, both of them were forces of nature, and no one knew who would clinch the victory. Not even the announcers knew, and they had to review the recordings to finally determine Belno's victory.
One thing had been clear,
We were the Generation of Miracles, and it was only when we were racing together that our strengths would be most evident.
…
I winced painfully as I lowered the newspaper I'd been reading. I frowned wryly as I messaged my scalp, trying my best to wade through the shivers running my up arms.
Yikes. Okay, even that was a little too cringe-worthy for me. The amount of hype we were getting was a little unreal, especially since the [All Comers] was only a G2 race. The newspaper spoke of us like we were some mythological figures—essentially demigods who tore through the racetrack.
And, sure, umamusume were magical creatures, but still.
BANG!
Just as I was folding the newspaper, the door to Team Kitahara's clubroom slammed open. In came one Kitahara Jo, his face pale and his legs shaking. Some life returned to his eyes when he saw me lounging on the couch, and he sighed in deep relief as he gently closed the door behind him. "Oh thank god…"
I raised an eyebrow. "Having some trouble, Mr. Demon King?"
He had a full-body shiver. "Oi, stop that. I've heard that enough already from the-" He shivered again, unable to even mention the thing he'd just ran from.
I smirked. Of course, I knew full well what it was that Kitahara was running from. It'd only been a few days since the [All Comers], and Japan's interest in us was at an all-time high right now. To appease the public, the URA reluctantly allowed a few selected journalists to come into Tracen Central.
Unfortunately, one of those journalists happened to be Fujii Sensuke—the excitable journalist who had helped change the URA's rules back in the original manga. The man's heart was in the right place, but he had no concept of boundaries and was more than willing to step on a few toes if it meant getting a story.
And now Kitahara had to bear the brunt of it all, since he was our team's 'Demon King' and all.
"Anyway, have some rest now, traveller." I gestured to the other couch we had. "You've faced great adversity. Though there is no rest for the weary, we must find comfort in even the smallest of moments."
Kitahara returned a dry stare. "You've been watching too many movies."
I shrugged. "Hey, I was the one who got told to find a hobby."
He didn't deign me a reply as he walked over and collapsed onto the couch, suddenly looking decades older. "Man, I can't do this…" He lifted his cap from his head and placed it onto his face. "Who the hell called me a Demon King anyway? I've always been kind and proper!"
I hummed. "Not sure, really. I think it just kinda happened."
He sighed. "Such misfortune…"
My ears flicked after hearing that overly familiar line, but I shook my head. "Well, we can only deal with it." I grinned slightly. "But hey, at least the name's giving you a sort of mystique, y'know? Keeps some of the more annoying people away."
"Sure, sure…"
Seeing Kitahara slouched into the couch, I eventually decided to do the same. In truth, I was also kinda exhausted. Kitahara wasn't the only one who dealt with the journalists; since Oguri was Oguri and Belno was still resting after her race, I became the designated spokesperson when it came to the umamusume-side of our team. And after hours of constant interviews, I finally decided enough was enough and snuck back to our clubroom.
We remained quiet for quite a while, just stewing in our own thoughts while we let the minutes go by. Here, the rest of the world seemed far away; all the excitement and fervor that was taking Japan like a storm was just background noise in this little safe haven.
"Star."
"Hmm?"
"How do you feel about the [Kikuka Sho]?" He asked, frowning slightly at the ceiling. "You think Oguri's got what it takes?"
I scoffed. "Of course. It's Oguri we're talking about here."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I was expecting that."
I grinned, but it soon fell. "But it won't be easy."
He hummed. "I know. She'll be the main target through the entire race. There'll be those that try to block her when she starts accelerating." He sighed. "Dicta Striker's going to be dangerous as well. Her speed's just as crazy—getting called the 'Yellow Bullet' isn't just for show."
"Don't forget about Super Creek either." I added.
"...who?" Kitahara asked casually, but I could see the way his eyes sharpened.
"Dicta Striker's strong, sure. But I'd say Super Creek is going to be the toughest opponent Oguri will face." I sat up as I turned to him. "Remember; the [Kikuka Sho] is 3000 meters long—it'll be a game of stamina." I smiled deeply. "And right now, Super Creek has the most stamina out of everyone I've known."
Kitahara had fully sat up by this point, his gaze dark. "Enough to match you?" I nodded solemnly, and he hummed as he cupped his chin. "Seriously…?"
I wasn't exaggerating, either. During the summer camp, there were few who stayed up late, preferring to go to sleep early so that they could begin training early in the morning.
Super Creek was one of those that didn't. Since I liked touring the area around the summer camp, I'd occasionally find Super Creek training here and there. Her training didn't seem all that special, but what truly shocked me was the sheer length of her training. I'd see her just as dawn came, and later I'd find her again late at night, still training at the beach with her trainer.
Not once had I ever seen her exhausted by any means. The sand training that easily sapped the stamina of even Oguri didn't seem to be of any issue to Super Creek.
And if she could easily run on sand without tiring, then just how much could she run on straight turf?
"I know her record isn't all that impressive, but trust me, she's going to be the one Oguri needs to watch out for." I smiled wanly. "After all, this will be the first time Oguri has ever run in a race this long."
Kitahara hissed. "You're right." He ran a hand through his hair. "No wonder Roppei-san's been making her run with you so much lately."
I offered a thumbs up. "Yep. That's pretty much it."
We descended into another silence, this one far more tense than the last. This was the first time I'd ever expressed concern over another umamusume, and I was glad to see that Kitahara was taking it seriously.
And it was important to note that I was only talking about the Super Creek from canon. This timeline had been irreversibly altered by my inclusion, so who knows what Super Creek was now like? Everyone else had grown far past their baseline from the manga, so it wouldn't be a surprise if Super Creek was the same.
I smiled slightly.
I couldn't wait to see.
…
"Oi, stop with that smile." Kitahara dryly said. "It's creepy."
My smile grew, while my pupils shrunk slightly "Oya? Is this new look making you uncomfortable, guinea pig?"
A shiver ran up Kitahara's body, as if some otherworldly instinct had triggered within him. "Never say that again."
My smile just grew wider.