"And we're off! This year's Classic season is officially underway!"
"We're now broadcasting the first race of the Classic series—the opening act of the Classic Triple Crown, the Satsuki Sho! They say only the fastest uma musume can win this one. Let's introduce the fan favorites!"
"Third in popularity—Satono Crown! She's gone 2 for 3 since her debut, and took second place in last year's Hopeful Stakes!"
"Second in popularity—Duramente! Currently 4 for 4 with a perfect record. The brightest star of hope—let's see what she can do today!"
"And fan-favorite number one is, of course, this girl—the one I'm personally backing the most—Kitasan Black! The Autumn Triple Crown champion, undefeated since her debut with nothing but outside-placing blowouts. The surprise this year is that she's chosen to enter the Classic-tier races. Does anyone in this year's class truly stand a chance against her?"
"On a clear day with good track conditions, this is the Nakayama 2,000-meter turf race! Twelve runners have gathered here today. Who among them will claim the title of fastest? Will it be last year's reigning champion, or will a new legend emerge from this year's class? The race is about to begin!"
"All gates are loaded! Ready to go!"
"They're off!"
"And as expected, the first one out is fan-favorite number one—Kitasan Black seizes the lead with a stunning burst! But the runners behind her don't seem ready to give up just yet!"
The Satsuki Sho was playing on every screen. Tickets had been nearly impossible to get lately, and with the venues packed to bursting, plenty of students had opted to stay on campus and watch the broadcast on school equipment. Besides—with last year's champion entering a Classic-tier race, the result was practically a foregone conclusion.
Unless your teammate was running, there was no point going in person. This was destined to be a slaughter.
If last year had been the prologue to a dark age, then this year was darkness itself, fully descended.
That champion would sweep the Classic Triple Crown without breaking a sweat.
That was also why the Satsuki Sho—normally a full field every year—had only twelve entrants this time. Most runners had opted for the Tiara Triple Crown route instead. Sure, the Tiara races couldn't match the Classics in prestige or prize money, but at least you'd be competing against opponents in your own league. Because the Classic Triple Crown route this year? That was hell difficulty.
You had Kitasan Black, who'd risen to the throne by crushing the former world number two. Duramente, who'd activated ZONE in her debut race. And the Satomi family's genius daughter, Satono Crown. A genius, a monster, and a monster among monsters—all on the same track. The difficulty of this route was ten times—no, a hundred times what it normally was. There simply wasn't a prayer.
...
In Team Spica's activity room, Tokai Teio, Trainer Okino, and the others were watching the broadcast. With no new recruits this year, Spica had no one running in the Classics.
When they saw Kitasan Black on screen, already pulling away from the entire field at a terrifying pace before the opening was even over, none of the Spica members looked particularly surprised. If anything, this was the expected outcome. They simply didn't believe a second monster of Kitasan Black's caliber existed in this generation.
"Absurdly strong, as expected. These numbers..." Okino, being a trainer, understood exactly how frightening Kitasan Black's current speed was. It had long since surpassed the existing world record. The most terrifying part was that this appeared to be her cruising speed.
"I feel so bad for this year's newcomers. If it were me, the second I heard Kita-chan was entering, I'd have withdrawn." Gold Ship's face was pure sympathy.
After last year's string of races, she'd been thoroughly, completely defeated.
If facing the Tyrant and the Lady had still left her feeling defiant, then against Kitasan Black she'd lost so convincingly that not a shred of fighting spirit remained.
You simply couldn't outrun that kind of freak. End of story.
"I figured she'd go overseas this year. A lot of people were hoping for that, and honestly, running Classic-tier races domestically can't be all that interesting for someone at her level." Tokai Teio sighed after she spoke.
Since when had the Classic Triple Crown become beneath someone?
Her own dream had been an undefeated Triple Crown. And yet here she was, feeling that the Classic Triple Crown wasn't worthy of Kitasan Black.
Mejiro McQueen said, "It's not hard to understand her thinking. The Classic Triple Crown is something an uma musume can only challenge once in her life. If there's a chance to take it, you'd want to take it."
At the very least, there wasn't a single uma musume in Japan who didn't dream of winning the Classic Triple Crown. So Kitasan Black's choice wasn't exactly shocking—it was their dream, after all.
"I can't watch this anymore. They're not even halfway through and second place is already ten lengths behind." Daiwa Scarlet's voice trembled.
She didn't want to imagine the kind of pressure those girls were enduring right now. This wasn't a race between equals.
"But Kitasan Black only reached maturity less than a year ago. She's technically a newcomer too," Vodka pointed out. "If anything, several of those runners matured earlier and have had more training. So you can't really call it cruel or unfair—they were just unlucky enough to be born in the same era."
This kind of thing wasn't exactly unprecedented in uma musume history.
"I'm curious what kind of scenery that girl sees." Silence Suzuka's eyes were fixed on Kitasan Black's figure.
They were both front-runners. Both ran the unyielding breakaway style that never conceded the lead.
Suzuka genuinely wanted to know whether Kitasan Black could see that view. But she couldn't sense that particular emotion from her. Kitasan Black's racing didn't look... happy.
"Mm-hmm." Special Week was munching on a carrot.
She didn't have any deep thoughts. Her only observation was that the girl ran really fast.
Though personally, she still preferred watching Suzuka race.
Kitasan Black's running was powerful, certainly. Overwhelmingly strong.
But Special Week couldn't feel that sparkle in it.
...
Back in the race.
"Past the 1,000-meter mark—number 7, Kitasan Black, leads by eleven lengths! No one can catch her now!"
The commentator had already pronounced the death sentence on the rest of the field.
The gap was simply too vast.
Up in the stands, Team Canopus's members stared at their teammate languishing in second-to-last place, utterly speechless. They'd told her that entering the Classic Triple Crown route this year was suicide. But Symphony had stubbornly insisted on signing up, claiming that "only this kind of race can produce the greatest music." And yet here she was, completely outclassed.
"Ahaha! So strong! She's impossibly strong! It's a solo performance—no one else's notes can even compare! So this is what the strongest melody sounds like!"
Despite sitting in second-to-last, Symphony's face showed not a trace of despair or fear. Instead, there was a kind of ecstatic fervor—because for her, racing was meant to be savored. Winning and losing came second. And right now, she was having the time of her life.
Was there anything more thrilling than sharing a track with the strongest? No! This was a melody no one else could perform. She was absolutely certain that entering the Classic Triple Crown had been the right call. A race like this was worth running even if you lost!
"Is she insane?!"
The runner next to her couldn't fathom how someone with results that bad could still be smiling. And the pace of this race was murderous—they'd barely passed the halfway point and her stamina was already giving out.
Why is it so fast?!
This was nothing like training, nothing like any race she'd run before. Just keeping up with the pack demanded far more energy than a normal race ever did.
"So this is what it feels like to compete alongside the strongest!"
Several runners began losing speed in the middle stage. As newcomers, they simply couldn't match the pace in either speed or endurance.
Satono Crown and Duramente had both started as chasers, but by mid-race they'd already surged to the front of the trailing pack—because at this point, they were the only two who could even remotely keep up. But with first place more than ten lengths ahead and the gap still growing, calling it "keeping up" was generous. It was more like self-consolation.
"Just as I thought... the gap between me and Kitasan Black-san is enormous."
Satono Crown gritted her teeth and pushed on. She'd known before the race started that she had no chance of winning. But giving up wasn't an option.
Was the Satomi family curse really this terrifying?
Sending a monster like Kitasan Black to stand in their way?
And it wasn't just Kitasan Black.
Satono Crown glanced at Duramente, a full length ahead of her. She'd raced against Duramente multiple times in practice matches—and had never won. Not once. Not in school simulations, not in the official Hopeful Stakes.
Duramente had completely dominated her.
Mountain after mountain blocked her path.
This wasn't a matter of luck anymore.
Satono Crown knew her ability wasn't enough to reach the top tier of her generation. Both Duramente and Kitasan Black were on an entirely different level.
"Crown-sama..." Up in the stands, the Capella trainer watched with worry.
Satono Diamond clenched her small fists. "Crown..."
She couldn't understand why Crown insisted on challenging Kitasan Black-san. She'd long since realized Crown didn't harbor the kind of obsessive rivalry toward Kitasan Black that would justify it. Given the gap in strength, avoiding the confrontation was clearly the smarter play—but Crown had chosen to face it head-on.
Higher up, near the entrance, Air Groove watched Duramente tensely. She could tell Duramente was already giving everything she had. But the gap remained enormous.
She hoped Duramente wouldn't be too crushed after crossing the finish line.
This opponent was simply beyond the pale. Even among the champions who'd dominated the Arc de Triomphe over the years, nothing like this had ever appeared. For Duramente to set her sights on this kind of monster was, frankly, a bit reckless.
"See? There's no one in this generation who can compete with Kitasan Black on the same stage. Duramente talked a big game in that interview, but look at her now—completely outclassed. It's not even the same league."
Some spectators recalled Duramente's pre-race interview and couldn't help but smirk. When a reporter had asked if she was confident, Duramente had answered that her goal was victory.
At the time, her composure and conviction had actually been persuasive. But reality had delivered its verdict the moment the gates opened.
On the track, Duramente stared at Kitasan Black's back with absolute focus. She'd been in ZONE since before the middle stage. Only one thought occupied her mind: run faster. Fast enough to close the gap.
Nothing else mattered.
What the fans thought? Whether she'd win or lose?
None of that existed for her right now.
Her sole purpose was to catch Kitasan Black. Then pass her. That was why she'd entered this race.
Duramente's mental fortitude was genuine steel, and her hunger to win was world-class. These were the qualities of a first-rate uma musume. But what she was challenging was the true strongest in the world. Kitasan Black hadn't yet run the Arc de Triomphe, but the power she'd displayed already surpassed every other uma musume alive. For a debut-year runner to challenge that—this was the inevitable consequence.
No matter how fiercely she burned, the gap refused to close.
But this is exactly the race I wanted. I will become the strongest—and racing you is how I'll get there. You are the signpost on my path to the top!
The fire in Duramente's eyes didn't dim by even a fraction.
That pure, unalloyed hunger to win drew sympathetic glances from more than a few uma musume watching from the stands.
In the Student Council room, Symboli Rudolf watched the broadcast and sighed.
"What a shame, Duramente. If you'd been born in any other era, you might truly have become the strongest."
But not in this one.
Because Kitasan Black wasn't merely the strongest of this generation.
She was a monster who would have been invincible in Rudolf's era too.
Being born alongside Kitasan Black—even with the talent of a world champion—was simply a misfortune.
"An overwhelming margin!"
"In the final 200 meters, Kitasan Black leads second-place Duramente by seventeen lengths! The pedigreed genius is utterly outmatched by this champion!"
"And Kitasan Black still looks completely at ease—this is a casual victory!"
While the commentator was still mid-praise, Kitasan Black had already crossed the finish line. The victory cannon boomed and the stands erupted. Kitasan Black, invincible as ever, had claimed the first leg of the Classic Triple Crown.
When the clock stopped—
Duramente still hadn't reached the finish line.
Satono Crown trailed Duramente by another five lengths.
Takao Shuneichi's result was even worse.
Symphony had been dead last from start to finish—but unlike the other runners, she looked absolutely exhilarated. She even talked a staff member into handing back her violin and launched into an impromptu performance right there on the track. A genuine eccentric.
To which Nice Nature and the other Canopus members could only say: as long as she's happy. Everyone's placement in this race was irrelevant anyway.
After Duramente and the others finally reached the finish, they stood gasping, eyes fixed on the figure in red.
But Kitasan Black simply turned and walked off the track, cold as ever. She hadn't spared them a single glance.
Satono Crown was Kitasan Black's elementary school classmate, but watching that retreating figure, she felt she was looking at a stranger. She couldn't bring herself to go say hello.
The truth was, Satono Crown had no idea what had happened between Kitasan Black and Satono Diamond during the years she'd spent abroad. Everyone had become so... different.
...
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