"...How did it come to this?"
I murmured to no one in particular, but the blue sky above—decorated with towering cumulonimbus clouds—gave me no reply.
Letting out yet another sigh (I'd already lost count), I looked at the race gate that had been so courteously prepared for my serious race against Senior Rudolf. It's not that I hate running. I run all the time during training, and honestly, I like it so much that I get a little restless on days when we don't do running practice.
Running with Senior Rudolf isn't a problem either. I've even thought about wanting to do some parallel running training with her someday, and I'd been worrying about how to ask her myself. So in that sense, this should've been the perfect chance.
(But somehow… I just don't feel like racing.)
That's right—a race. Why a race? And not just any race, but a full-on serious one with Senior Rudolf? I'm sure she has more fitting opponents to go all-out against.
My heavy feet nudged at the turf. The metal horseshoes on my shoes slid lightly across the grass, slicing a few neatly trimmed blades that toppled over.
I'd already finished warming up. I could start running at any time. But somehow, I couldn't get into it. I didn't know why—the root of this muddled feeling was unclear even to me.
It seemed the gate was ready; Maruzensky-san called out to Senior Rudolf, and Katsuragi Ace-san called out to me. Slowly, I walked toward Katsuragi Ace-san.
"Neicha-san, are you done warming up? If not, we don't mind waiting—just make sure you stretch properly so you don't get injured, okay?"
"I'm fine. I can go anytime."
Even though she was my senior, Katsuragi Ace-san always spoke politely, her tone airy and soft. She really reminded me of Mejiro Bright… though I didn't have anyone like that around me when I was alive.
Glancing sideways at Senior Rudolf, I could tell she was in peak condition—radiating motivation and confidence. By contrast, I wasn't in bad shape, but… not especially good either. Just… normal, maybe.
(Well, if I'm doing it, I'll give it everything I've got.)
I buried my swirling emotions and focused on the race before me. At my request, the lane order put Senior Rudolf on the inside and me on the outside. The distance was 1600 meters, right-handed.
With just the two of us, race positioning didn't matter much anyway—the outer lane only meant more distance. But since I was used to running from the outside, it suited me better. Senior Rudolf was already in the gate, so I slipped in smoothly without resistance.
As Maruzensky-san and Katsuragi Ace-san moved toward the outer rail, I sharpened my focus. Just run like always. I urged myself with that reminder.
Even though a few stalls separated us, I could feel her presence beside me—sharp and commanding.
A cold sweat trickled down my cheek, completely out of place before the race had even begun.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. It's fine. Senior Rudolf usually takes the lead early on. I'll stick close and overtake at the end—that's my plan.
I settled into my start position. I was ready.
Clang!
The gate burst open. Focused as always, I reacted without delay, dashing out cleanly.
(Good!)
No late start. My target position was right behind Senior Rudolf—ideally, just off her flank. That's what I was aiming for.
But… Senior Rudolf wasn't there.
I blinked. Had I burst out too fast? I glanced to the side—no, she wasn't there either.
Then I felt it—from behind me. That intense, crushing pressure.
A cold wave of sweat broke out down my back, my gym uniform clinging to my skin.
I risked a quick glance back. She was right there, half a body length behind me—Senior Rudolf, marking me closely.
(Why is Senior Rudolf marking me?!)
My thoughts scattered. I'd never been marked before, and the suffocating pressure was unbearable.
I tried to fix my breathing, but my body wouldn't listen—it didn't feel like mine anymore. My brain knew what to do, but my body screamed, Run! Don't get caught! You'll be devoured!
We hadn't even reached the first corner, yet I was breathing like it was the final stretch.
Running tight along the inner rail, I desperately searched for a way to break free from this pressure. But it didn't fade—it grew stronger with every meter.
And worse, my stamina was slipping faster than I expected. Running from the outside to the inner lane took more energy than I'd realized. It was a level of exhaustion you'd never notice in regular training—only in a true race.
Finally, we hit the first corner. I adjusted my stride—shorter steps, faster rhythm, smoother turns. I focused on minimizing centrifugal force and leg strain.
(This should make her drift a little wider!)
Leaning sharply toward the inside rail, I glanced back just enough to check. If she widened even a bit, the extra distance might open our gap.
But Senior Rudolf stayed right behind me, perfectly aligned, still half a body length away—no closer, no farther.
(Forgive me… but I, too, am confident in my cornering.)
(Right, I forgot—you do have that "Arc Line Professor" skill!)
She noticed my glance and smirked knowingly. I couldn't help but curse inwardly. If I couldn't shake her in the corners, then my only chance was in the final straight—the last sprint.
I steadied my breathing as best I could while we rounded the second corner and entered the back straight. This training course was exactly 1600 meters, meaning the straights were shorter than usual.
The third corner would come fast. I switched back to my cruising stride, stretching my legs.
Because of the recent rain, I hadn't been able to practice stride changes much, and that worried me—but so far, it was fine. Not perfect, though. Switching strides felt like shifting gears in a manual car.
A fraction of a second mistimed, and I'd lose speed or stumble. What I really wanted was not a car's clutch, but a bullet train's motor—able to adjust stride and pitch freely, smoothly, powered by will alone.
Digging into the turf, I widened my stride and lowered my pitch, conserving energy.
(Don't waste stamina before the final charge!)
The pressure from behind was twice as strong now. If that meant she was getting fired up, fine—but if it meant she was closing in, that was bad.
If she passed me before the sprint, I'd lose my one chance.
We hit the third corner, and I pushed through the growing fatigue in my legs, ignoring the pain. Checking briefly, I saw she was still half a body behind. Relief flickered for just a second.
Now it was all about timing—the final curve into the straight. Too early and I'd burn out; too late and there wouldn't be enough track left.
(Twenty meters… ten… five… now!)
I drove my leg down, hard enough to tear the turf apart. Every ounce of reserved stamina poured into speed.
And then—the pressure vanished.
(What—!?)
That overwhelming presence disappeared in an instant. Startled, I hesitated—missing the perfect timing of my burst. My balance wavered, and before I could recover—
The pressure slammed back in.
From directly beside me.
"What!?"
I turned just in time to see a flash of chestnut hair and a white blaze whip past me—Senior Rudolf, surging ahead.
In that one instant of hesitation, she'd accelerated enough to pull ahead by three lengths.
Shocked, I jerked my head forward, ignoring the wind resistance, and unleashed my final sprint.
"I won't lose!!!"
The words ripped out of me without thought. I just ran.
Why it had to be her, why I was running in the first place—none of that mattered anymore.
All that mattered was catching up.
I tore into the turf, widening my stride, lowering my body to slice through the wind. My eyes never left her.
The finish line drew closer. Slowly, painfully, the distance shrank—from three lengths to two and a half, from two and a half to two.
"The one who'll win—IS ME!!!" we both shouted in unison.
My legs felt like lead. So what? Keep running!
Grass flew through the air from our pounding hooves. Even that felt like an obstacle.
(I want to catch up! I want to overtake her!)
But no matter how desperately I pushed, the short straight wasn't enough. Senior Rudolf crossed the finish line first.
The gap—one and three-quarter lengths.
Should I be glad I'd closed the distance so much? Or hate myself for losing focus and missing my chance to strike?
But then…
Senior Rudolf turned back toward me, smiling softly through her sweat—just like before our exhibition race.
(Ah… how frustrating… I really wanted to win…)
Collapsed on the turf after finishing, I whispered those words to no one.