The race for this world's [Kitasan Black] was still unfolding.
Under the heavy clouds, at Kyoto Racecourse, the 3000-meter long-distance grand prix — the Kikka Sho!
[Kitasan Black] wanted to prove, right here, that she was the strongest of this generation. But Duramente stood in the way of her conquest. The Satsuki Sho girl and the "Derby girl" — their rivalry would be settled here, once and for all.
The commentator's voice rang out across the venue.
"The strongest of the Classic-level races, the Kikka Sho, has entered its final stretch! We're on the last turn now, and leading the pack is number four — Kitasan Black! The finish line is just ahead. Can she hold that lead all the way to the wire?"
[Kitasan Black] held a two-length lead over the second-place runner. She hadn't displayed the kind of raw power she'd shown at the Japan Derby, but her performance today was by no means poor — in fact, among her generation, she was running near the top. And from the look of her, she still had something left in the tank.
That was the thing — a 3000-meter course couldn't faze this [Kitasan Black] at all.
(No problem!)
[Kitasan Black] took stock of her stamina and felt a surge of confidence.
(I can win!)
(Just keep this lead all the way home!)
Looking at the straightaway ahead, she could already picture herself lifting the trophy. There was no way she was losing today.
But just then, a wave of astonished cries swept through the stands.
"Unbelievable—!" the commentator shouted. "Duramente is making her move! What a display — she's like a beast waking from slumber! None of the runners ahead can stop her advance! What an astonishing burst of finishing power!"
(Eh?)
[Kitasan Black] felt a chill of foreboding.
"She's passing them! Duramente is passing runner after runner! That form is unreal — she looks like she's barely breaking a sweat!"
A terrifying aura came surging up from behind. A cold shiver shot up [Kitasan Black]'s spine and straight into her head.
(No way!)
She turned her head in disbelief — and there it was. That shadow.
Duramente?
She was catching up already? Now, of all times?
[Kitasan Black]'s heart started pounding. This feeling — it was exactly like the Satsuki Sho all over again. Duramente had been trailing far behind, then made her move on the final turn and exploded into the lead the moment she hit the straightaway.
(Are you kidding me?!)
Who wanted a repeat of the Satsuki Sho?!
No!
Absolutely not!
[Kitasan Black] gritted her teeth and pushed. But even with stamina to spare, every stride felt impossibly heavy. Her speed just wouldn't climb.
"Satono Crown is kicking into gear too!"
"Takao Shuneichi is right behind!"
"But the real duel is between these two — Duramente and Kitasan Black!"
"Who will claim the Kikka Sho and cement their place — the Derby girl, or the Satsuki Sho girl? You can't look away from this!"
Duramente stared at [Kitasan Black]'s back.
So. Just as she'd thought.
It was different.
She couldn't feel that presence from this girl. Not a trace of what she'd felt during the Japan Derby.
It was hard to believe, sure. But now she was one hundred percent certain — the [Kitasan Black] in front of her wasn't her.
Not the strong one who had made her heart race at the Derby.
Duramente felt a small pang of regret. Honestly, more than winning this race, she wanted another crack at that girl. Only by beating an opponent of true worth could victory actually satisfy her. Crushing a weak rival like this was just a footnote — an unremarkable step on the climb to the summit.
The gap between Duramente and [Kitasan Black] kept shrinking.
The commentator roared on.
"The gap is closing! Duramente is closing on Kitasan Black!"
"Who will break through first — Kitasan Black, or Duramente?!"
Hearing the call, [Kitasan Black] clenched her teeth and held on.
Her speed had hit what felt like a ceiling, but she still clung to the hope of a miracle. If this was her limit, then she'd shatter it right here!
She could do it!
(I can do this!)
She didn't want to lose!
She wanted to win!
As long as she held onto that feeling—
(Break through, damn it!)
"Oohhhh!!"
Driven by pure willpower, a faint golden glow flickered across [Kitasan Black]'s body — then just as quickly, it faded.
Up in the stands, a few mysterious figures offered their verdicts.
"What a shame. Her aptitude reached the threshold, but her heart wavered."
Tokai Teio shook her head regretfully. [Kitasan Black]'s stats barely cleared the minimum for activating ZONE, and her will to win was enough too — but the problem was deeper. Deep down, that child didn't believe she could win. She was afraid of Duramente.
"Hmph. In a race, any feeling other than the will to win is unnecessary. When are these mediocre girls ever going to learn?"
Gold Ship's tone was dismissive. In her view, if you were already afraid of your opponent, why even bother entering the race? Once you stepped onto the track, you forgot about your rivals. The very act of entering was a declaration: I can win. So believe it. Take that possibility and make it certainty. Grip that conviction with both hands — only then would victory come.
[Kitasan Black]'s resolve was laughably weak by her standards.
Rice Shower: "..."
The seniors weren't wrong.
Mejiro McQueen said nothing. There was no need. That runner wasn't her rival, and she wasn't her junior either. To her, this was just an ordinary race, one with no particular stake. She was content to sit back as an ordinary spectator. No need to cheer anyone on, no need to tear anyone down. Win or lose, it was all natural. All she had to do was enjoy the festival atmosphere — after all, moments of rest like this were hard to come by.
And right now, in the middle of the race, [Kitasan Black] was suffering a serious confidence problem.
In anime, to sell the dramatic tension, runners always shout during their final sprint, as if hollering were proof of determination — as if it could push them to run faster. In reality, though, it's a serious drag on performance. Anyone familiar with running knows the most important thing is controlling your breathing rhythm. Shouting doesn't make you stronger — it disrupts your breath. And [Kitasan Black] was shouting now precisely because she was panicking. She didn't have the confidence to overpower Duramente.
Her stat sheet lacked the burst capacity she needed, and that was dragging her down hard. Or to put it plainly — she just didn't have enough raw power.
Being behind in Speed and Power was a crippling problem. With the right skills she might have closed the gap, but with an essentially blank skill panel, her most critical stat — Speed — was nearly two full tier-grades below Duramente's.
Forget the fact that Duramente was already brushing against the threshold of ZONE. Even without that edge, the sheer stat differential was enough for Duramente to beat this version of [Kitasan Black]. And the most disappointing part? The explosive breakaway style Kitasan Black had shown in her previous race was nowhere to be seen. This [Kitasan Black] was running a perfectly textbook race — and nothing more.
A ripple of unease spread through the fans.
"Something feels off about Kita-chan today."
"She's like a completely different person from the Japan Derby."
"She's not gonna lose, is she? I just became a fan!"
The fans watching [Kitasan Black] looked stunned. A lot of them had only been won over by her Derby performance. And this race... her performance today was just deflating.
She wasn't making mistakes. But there was nothing eye-catching about it either.
It wasn't that she was running badly. It was just that — compared to her previous race — the drop-off was jarring.
Duramente pulled even with [Kitasan Black], and then past her. Her movement looked effortless. She had started her push on the final turn, and by the time she hit the home stretch — with more than half the straightaway still to go — she'd surged from the back of the pack all the way to first.
That kind of explosive closing kick was dazzling. The gap in ability was on full display.
"Duramente! Breaking away — it's Duramente!"
The commentator's voice cracked with excitement.
With 300 meters left on the home stretch, Duramente pulled even with [Kitasan Black]. She was wreathed in a dark red aura of pure presence — she looked unbeatable. [Kitasan Black]'s expression crumbled.
She'd been caught!
Damn it, why couldn't she pick up any more speed? Her stamina had plenty left, but her speed was capped out!
(No!)
(I don't want to lose!)
[Kitasan Black] bit down hard and chased.
Duramente was already more than a length ahead of her. And the gap kept widening. The sheer explosive force Duramente was pouring out made [Kitasan Black]'s heart sink into despair.
Up in the stands, the mood on Team Spica's side had turned grim.
In their eyes, [Kitasan Black] had actually done well today. She couldn't match the other Kita-chan, sure, but she'd at least performed at the level they'd expected of her.
The problem was Duramente. Satono Crown and Takao Shuneichi were a step behind [Kitasan Black]. But Duramente — she was something else entirely.
Her stamina matched [Kitasan Black] stride for stride. Even accounting for the fact that Chasers burn less stamina through the early and middle stages, that final kick had been terrifying. She'd closed a seven- or eight-length gap in just 400 meters. That kind of speed differential — it looked like she was running in a completely different class, a tier or two above everyone else.
"So it really did come down to speed," Nishizaki Ryu muttered, finally seeing the root of the problem.
[Kitasan Black] didn't have enough Speed, which meant she couldn't answer Duramente's burst. And the moment Nishizaki Ryu realized it, regret crashed down on him in waves. If only he'd spotted her problem sooner. If only he'd changed her training regimen earlier. Then this [Kitasan Black] wouldn't be getting run down.
"Damn it!"
He felt genuinely sick. If there had never been a chance of winning, he could have accepted it. But he knew now — [Kita-chan]'s talent was second to none. She could match Duramente. And losing like this, because of a mistake he'd made as her trainer... it was crushing.
For a trainer who truly loved uma musume, nothing hurt more.
At this moment, Nishizaki Ryu and [Kitasan Black] shared the exact same feeling. Trainer and runner, bound by the same heartbreak.
"And across the line!"
Duramente took the race, surprising no one.
"The winner — Duramente!"
"Let's give it up for Duramente, champion of the Kikka Sho! This year's strongest uma musume is her and her alone! Satsuki Sho, Kikka Sho — two crowns down!"
"Second place — Kitasan Black!"
"Losing by the narrowest of margins, a heartbreaking finish!"
"Third place — Satono Crown!"
The results flashed up on the big screen.
Duramente, first place. [Kitasan Black] had finished a third of a length behind. Satono Crown, in third, was four full lengths behind second.
If Duramente hadn't been in this race, today would have been a clean victory for [Kitasan Black]. But thanks to the butterfly effect, the Duramente who — in the original history — should have broken her leg after the Japan Derby hadn't been injured this time. She'd stayed in competition, run this race, and reclaimed the double crown that was historically hers.
[Kitasan Black] hadn't shown the kind of strength that could break fate. In contrast, Duramente — standing on the cusp of ZONE — had shown exactly that possibility.
Now, at the finish line, [Kitasan Black] stood with her face twisted in anguish, fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes.
She wanted to cry.
She'd lost.
Second place wasn't a bad result by any measure. But [Kitasan Black] had always carried that stubborn heart-sickness — if she didn't take first, she couldn't swallow it. Or to put it another way: the only goal she'd ever accepted for herself was first place.
It was an arrogant mindset. But for an uma musume, it wasn't wrong. Her mistake was in not having the confidence and ability to back it up.
Ability could be trained. But a lack of confidence — that was the real problem.
And in that exact moment—
Kitasan Black suddenly crossed over to this world again.
She'd been in France, doing course adaptation training, when she'd closed her eyes that night and — just like that — found herself yanked back here.
She'd appeared just behind [Kitasan Black], but before either of them could react, their positions swapped instantly.
Kitasan Black stared blankly at the big screen ahead.
"???"
Grass. (A type of plant.)
You already ran the race and I'm the one stuck going up to the Winner's Stage?!
Her eyes glazed over.
Duramente had been about to head back to prepare for the podium ceremony when she caught the sudden shift in Kitasan Black's expression. She stopped mid-step.
"Is it you?"
"..."
Kitasan Black didn't bother answering.
She buried her face in her hands.
She really, really wanted to bolt. She wasn't opposed to the Winner's Stage in principle. But backup dancing for the first-place finisher? Absolutely not. That was a line she couldn't cross.
And this crossover — what awful timing. Why only after the race was over? Shouldn't she have been sent over to actually run it?
Three Goddesses, what the hell are you doing?!
Kitasan Black hadn't noticed yet, but up in the stands, several pairs of eyes had locked onto her arrival.
"Looks like she's here," Mejiro McQueen said.
"Hahaha, fantastic. The look on that kid's face is priceless." Gold Ship clutched her stomach, roaring with laughter.
So even that little brat could pull a face like that. Maybe she wasn't as indifferent to races as she pretended to be.
Tokai Teio let out a helpless sigh. "I'm a little worried, actually. This child is slow even with her crossovers. Or... does she really care so little about winning that she only arrives after the race ends?"
Rice Shower just thought Kita-chan looked a bit pitiful right now.
"Should we go see Kita-chan?"
"Mm. Let's hope she doesn't disappoint me."
Mejiro McQueen turned and headed toward the backstage area. The others fell in behind her.
Passersby caught sight of the oddly-dressed group and did double takes. When they tried to enter the backstage area, a staff member moved to stop them. McQueen simply used her face. It worked.
Technically she was flashing this world's version of her identity. But no matter the world, the Mejiro family belonged to her if she wanted it to. Besides — as if some lowly little fleshy-faced pony was going to have any objections.
Meanwhile, outside the locker room, Kitasan Black was receiving this world's Team Spica members.
Nishizaki Ryu was trying to apologize to her. She cut him off with an icy voice.
"Sorry, but it's me right now. And honestly, I'm in a terrible mood, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your superfluous words to yourself. This is my first time going up on that stage as anything other than the winner. It's a complete humiliation. That girl lost her race — why the hell am I the one who has to suffer for it?"
Floating invisibly behind her, [Kita-chan] heard the complaint and flushed with shame. She was sorry — she really hadn't done it on purpose.
"Ah..."
Nishizaki Ryu and the others genuinely hadn't anticipated that [Kita-chan] would get body-swapped by the other world's Kita-chan again — let alone at such an excruciatingly awkward moment. For a second, none of them knew how to comfort her.
Kitasan Black accepted her fate and turned toward the locker room to change. What else could she do? It wasn't like she could actually skip the Winner's Stage. Pulling a stunt like that while inside [Kita-chan]'s body would be beyond cruel.
But just as her hand reached the door, a palm came down on her shoulder.
The Team Spica members behind her froze in shock.
"Yo~"
Gold Ship's teasing voice made Kitasan Black's blood run cold.
Wait. Why was she hearing that voice here?
Don't tell her — it couldn't be—
"Kita-chan, you okay?"
Another familiar voice.
That was Senior Rice Shower!
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
Kitasan Black. Here and now — cornered!
...
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