Chapter 19: The Race Begins

Chapter 19: The Race Begins

1:50 PM.

The late January sun cast a warm winter glow over Tokyo Racecourse, its golden rays spilling gently across the green turf. The light filtered through the clear sky, bathing the entire venue in a mellow sheen that felt almost theatrical—as if nature itself had chosen to spotlight what was about to begin.

Lined up behind the starting gates, the Umamusume stood tall, each of them poised and focused. Their vibrant uniforms fluttered faintly in the breeze, eyes glinting with anticipation. Among them was a certain black-haired freshman from Tracen Academy.

From the packed grandstands—filled nearly to capacity with over 100,000 spectators—the voice of a young announcer cut through the pre-race buzz.

“Now entering the gate is the third most popular runner in today’s race—Kitasan Black!”

The crowd stirred at the mention of her name.

“She’s a first-year from Tracen Academy, and this is her official debut! That’s right—this race marks the very first step in her career. Just enrolled, and already standing here at the starting line—talk about a meteoric rise!”

“Her trainer is also making his debut today. A rookie pair stepping into the national spotlight for the first time—what kind of performance will they show us? Let’s find out together.”

After the energetic commentary, a calmer, more seasoned voice took over.

“From a training perspective, Kitasan Black demonstrates solid foundational strength and above-average stamina. Compared to the current favorites—Miss Joy and Eden—those are her key assets.”

“If she can play to those strengths, we might be in for an exciting upset.”

The dynamic between the two commentators—one lively, the other analytical—was a standard format for high-profile races. One to rouse the crowd, the other to offer insight.

Their voices fueled the atmosphere in the stands. Excitement built steadily like a rising tide, with fans discussing predictions, placements, and potential winners.

In the front row of the grandstands, close enough to feel the reverberations of the crowd, sat Makoto. Flanking him were two girls—sisters who shared both a similar voice and face.

“Elder Sister… Do you think Kita-chan can win her debut?”

Satono Diamond’s tone was soft and unsure. Her hands fidgeted slightly in her lap, betraying her nervousness.

Satono Crown, her older sister, furrowed her brow slightly in thought. She hesitated—not because she didn’t have an opinion, but because the question didn’t have a simple answer.

“Even if you’re the one asking, Diamond... something like that is hard to say.”

Both sisters had come to support their friend. After Crown had finished her own race earlier that morning, they’d rushed straight to the prep area to cheer Kitasan on. Afterward, they naturally followed Makoto to the viewing seats.

After a thoughtful pause, Crown continued with more certainty.

“Still… based on what I’ve seen, Miss Joy probably has the upper hand.”

“She’s been with her trainer since last year. That means she’s had several months of preparation before this debut.”

“I’ve watched her practice on the school track. She’s consistent and doesn’t make mistakes.”

“If everything goes as expected… her popularity odds aren’t just hype.”

Then, with a gentle expression, she turned to her sister.

“But that doesn’t mean you need to worry about Kitasan’s performance.”

“She’s in good hands. Her trainer—” she glanced sideways at Makoto, “—has probably considered more scenarios than either of us.”

Makoto, binoculars raised to his eyes, didn’t respond immediately. His full attention was on the starting gates, where Kitasan Black stood composed and focused.

Her breathing looked steady. Her posture was solid. Her warm-up routine had gone without a hitch. She entered the gate without a hint of nervousness.

Satisfied, he lowered his binoculars and gave a small nod to Crown.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Satono-san.”

“I’ve trained her specifically for the conditions of this race. We’ve run simulations, adjusted strategies, reviewed footage... Everything we did was to get her ready for this.”

“Although, the specifics of her—”

Before he could finish his explanation, the energetic voice of the commentator cut through the speakers above.

“All runners are in the gate!”

Makoto immediately raised his binoculars again, cutting himself off mid-sentence. At that moment, nothing mattered more than the next three seconds.

Beside him, Crown’s expression sharpened with anticipation. Diamond sat upright, barely breathing, her eyes fixed on the gates.

The commentator's voice rang out again, this time with booming excitement:

“This is it—Tokyo Racecourse, Turf 1800 meters, Debut Match…”

“Start!”

With a sharp metallic clang, the sixteen gates burst open in perfect unison.

In the blink of an eye, sixteen Umamusume exploded forward like arrows from a bow. They surged ahead, legs pounding in rhythm, all aiming for the coveted inside track.

The sight was a blur of color, speed, and raw energy.

From the stands, the collective cheer of tens of thousands roared like thunder. The crowd had come alive. The tension of the wait was gone—now it was action, pure and unfiltered.

Makoto kept his binoculars trained on his star runner.

Good. Just as planned.

In any race, the inner lane offered the shortest distance to the finish line. Securing it early could spell the difference between victory and mediocrity. That was Racing 101.

Makoto had spent years studying this principle. Back when he followed his father to local circuits, he’d seen countless examples—both good and bad—of how positioning determined everything.

But those were provincial races. Here at Tokyo, the skill ceiling was dramatically higher.

Yet even so, today’s race had a twist: every runner was a rookie.

No one had prior race experience. No one had ever tested their abilities under pressure.

And yet—not one of them hesitated. The entire field had launched forward, racing to position themselves with tactical precision. Their instincts were sharp.

This wasn’t something you saw at the regional level. It was the real deal.

And Kitasan Black—she was doing beautifully.

She followed Makoto’s instructions to perfection. From the outside, it looked like she was simply angling toward the inner lane.

But in reality, she had immediately locked onto the runner from Gate 6—tucking in behind her, using her as both a visual marker and a wind shield. It was subtle, but deliberate.

The broadcast caught on quickly.

“A flawless break! All runners are clean out of the gate!”

“Miss Joy is off to a great start—taking an early lead—Wait! She’s been passed!”

“Cosmo Hydra surges to the front! That’s right, Cosmo Hydra is now leading the race!”

“Miss Joy is second, followed by Eden in third. The top three are already positioning aggressively.”

“As for Kitasan Black—the third most popular runner—she hasn’t joined the front group.”

“She’s staying behind Ih Turbo—Could she be using the tactical marking strategy?”

The analyst jumped in with a tempered observation.

“In a debut match, you don’t usually expect advanced tactics like marking.”

“But from her training footage, Kitasan Black has a strong sense of rhythm. She’s likely using her opponent’s pace to settle into a comfortable tempo.”

“It’s a smart choice. For a rookie, finding that rhythm early can make all the difference.”

The main commentator continued.

“The group has passed the grandstands and is now entering the first curve!”

“No change at the top—Cosmo Hydra holds the lead!”

“Miss Joy in second, Eden in third!”

“And Kitasan Black is in the back half. It looks like her trainer opted for an End Closer running style!”

In the stands, both Satono sisters tensed at the comment.

“End Closer...?” Crown echoed softly.

“I thought I heard someone say Kitasan was more of a Front Runner type…” Diamond added, confused.

Crown frowned and looked toward Makoto, who had just lowered his binoculars again.

“Trainer Yasui… Are you sure that’s the right style for her?”

Makoto gave them both a calm, measured smile.

“You’re not wrong. I also believe she might be better suited to a Pace Chaser or even Front Runner.”

“But this is just her debut. There’s no pressure to win today.”

“If I force her into one specific running style this early, I might limit her future growth.”

He let that sink in before continuing with a small, knowing grin.

“Besides—hasn’t every trainer told you this at some point?”

“For the first few races after debut—it’s best to run from behind.”

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