Chapter 175: Rainy Day Showdown

To be honest, when I was reborn, I never imagined I would make it this far.

The Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe—the world’s most prestigious international G1 race on turf.

If you were to compare the world of racing and its hierarchy to mountains, this place would unquestionably be the highest peak. The summit of the world itself.

When I had just been born—when I first realized I had reincarnated into the world of horse girls—even then I never imagined I would reach a place like this.

At the time, all I could think about was maybe getting the chance to run together with Spe-chan and Teio-chan… the girls I now call Spe-senpai and Teio.

…No, that’s not quite right.

In my previous life, I was just an ordinary person. I didn’t understand what it meant to stand at the very top of the world. I couldn’t even imagine it.

Back then, right after my reincarnation, I didn’t know anything.

Not the fulfillment that comes from running as an Uma Musume.

Not the countless trials that would await me.

Not the destiny that was waiting for me at the end of it all—my destiny alone.

And most of all… I had no idea just how terrifying this place would be—the place I finally reached at the end of that destiny.

Yes. Exactly.

Right now, I’m terrified.

At this very moment, sitting in the waiting room at Longchamp Racecourse, waiting for the Arc to begin… it’s terrifying enough to make me tremble.

I mean, honestly—who wouldn’t be scared?

I’m far from home, and I’m about to challenge the greatest race in the world. A single chance—if I lose, there’s no second try.

My rivals are all monsters who casually win G1 races. Meanwhile, I’m already dealing with a pretty significant debuff just from the environmental differences.

This isn’t like my usual races where I can run freely.

…Well, maybe for most Uma Musume their “usual races” are just as serious. But for me, they’ve always felt more like presenting the results of my daily training with Teio, Nature, and McQueen-senpai.

And on top of that—obviously—this overseas expedition carries enormous weight.

For example, the effort and money Ayumu-san has poured into supporting me all this time.

The time and technical work spent on thorough research and countermeasures.

My own time and legs, devoted to this single challenge.

…and above all, the hopes and anxieties of the fans back in Japan.

Carrying all of that on my shoulders, I’m about to step onto the track.

If I make even a single mistake… that’s the end.

Japan’s dream will shatter. My myth will end. And it will become just another chapter in the heroic legends of Europe.

Of course that terrifies me.

…Well?

If you ask whether I’m only scared, though—that’s not exactly the case either.

"Ahh, my chest hurts so much. My heart’s pounding with nerves and excitement and it just won’t stop. My legs won’t stop either. Ayumu-san, how many seconds until the race?"

"Two hours. That’s a little under 7,300 seconds."

"That hasn’t changed since last time!"

"You asked a minute ago."

As I paced back and forth around the waiting room, I waited for the race to begin.

I’m scared of the race.

I’m scared of making a mistake. I’m scared of losing. I’m scared of shattering everyone’s dreams.

All of that is true.

But it’s not contradictory to feel other emotions at the same time.

I’m excited for the race.

I’m excited to run against opponents strong enough to force mistakes out of me. I’m excited to feel the meticulous strategies that might be able to defeat me. I’m excited to run while carrying everyone’s dreams.

I feel all of that too.

Scared. Excited. Nervous. Thrilled.

In the end… it’s basically the same as always.

Just another race.

"…Even after coming this far, you really haven’t changed."

Sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room, Ayumu-san smiled as he said that.

Just then, a voice came from the smartphone propped up on a stand nearby.

"Isn’t that a good thing? Hoshino Wilm-san is strongest when she’s like this, right?"

"Exactly. Right now, Wilm’s in perfect condition—no, you could even call it an awakened state beyond peak performance."

"She’s handled the entire training schedule flawlessly, and her stats have basically stepped into bug-character or modded-character territory. A truly unprecedented level."

"And mentally she’s completely fulfilled too. Without question, this Wilm is the strongest version of Wilm so far."

"That smug look… is this what you call a trainer-dork instead of a parent-dork?"

"There are no numerical differences compared to Hoshino Wilm-senpai’s usual pre-race state."

"Which means Wilm is always at her best before a race."

The exasperated female voice and the calm, composed girl’s voice came through the phone via video call—Masa and Bourbon-chan.

Since this was the Arc, Ayumu-san arranged it so the two of them—who had stayed behind in Japan—could join us during the waiting time.

Since arriving here, I hadn’t seen much of them, so it actually made me pretty happy that they were waiting with me like this. It reminded me of the lively everyday life we had back in Japan.

Living together with Ayumu-san—our lovey-dovey cohabitation life (well, realistically it was about 80% intense training)—wasn’t bad either.

But still, I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic for those days back home.

Especially since Bourbon-chan has the final race of the Classic Triple Crown—the Kikuka Sho—coming up soon, with the Kyoto Shimbun Hai less than two weeks away. Time must be incredibly precious for her right now.

And yet she still said, "If it’s for senpai, there’s no reason to hesitate," and offered to join us.

Having such a wonderful junior almost makes this senpai want to cry.

Anyway, it didn’t change the fact that I was eager for the race to start.

Even though waiting together like this was far better than waiting alone, the time before a race always makes one minute feel like an hour.

So naturally, we had to find some way to pass the time.

"How about the four of us play shiritori to kill time?"

"No thanks. Why shiritori of all things?"

"Rhythm."

"Please don’t start, Mihono Bourbon-san. That was a joke from Hoshino Wilm-san."

"It wasn’t a joke! Shiritori is a proud and time-honored way to pass the time in the Horino Ayumu camp!"

"Wilm… that story is…"

"Huh? Shiritori? Why? Wouldn’t normal conversation be better…?"

"Ugh… that genuine confusion hurts my chest."

"It can be inferred that engaging in a form of play may loosen rigid thought patterns."

"A serious consolation like that somehow hurts even more…"

Watching Ayumu-san slump his shoulders in defeat…

…somehow, it made me think how nice this all was.

Ah, no, not in a weird way.

Masa seriously pointing out Ayumu-san’s flaws, Bourbon-chan covering for him—or accidentally saying something brutally honest—and then Ayumu-san getting all dejected…

"It’s okay. I had fun. Right, shiritori! I’ll start with murinan-dai (impossible demand)."

"Wilm… thank you. Stomach ulcer."

"Wait, are we seriously doing this? Umm… Uriel."

"Rouge."

"Juvenile."

"Lu… lu…"

"How are you stuck already?"

And just like that, I helped cheer Ayumu-san up, pushed the conversation forward, and things continued in our usual slightly offbeat rhythm.

Our usual mood. Our usual way of being.

The fact that it continued even on a day like this made me strangely happy.

Once, Ayumu-san said that I didn’t have a place to belong.

My parents were gone. My family was gone. I had lost my home.

I had nowhere to return to.

That’s why he bought a house in Japan for me.

So that even after graduating from Tracen and leaving the Ritto dorms, I would always have somewhere to go back to.

I mean… buying someone a huge house as a birthday present? What kind of absurdly perfect guy does that?

Honestly, doing that for a student might be a little heavy.

But still, it made me happier than I can possibly describe.

More than anything, knowing that Ayumu-san cared about me that much made me happy from the bottom of my heart.

…and at the same time—

The Horino Ayumu camp. The community centered around him, where Bourbon-chan and I belong.

Until the day I graduate from Tracen, this is probably my place in the world.

Ayumu-san is there. Masa is there. Bourbon-chan is there.

And maybe next year, even more Uma Musume will join.

That place… is where I belong right now.

So…

Yeah.

Quietly, almost in a whisper, I spoke my thoughts aloud.

"I’ll come back. Right here."

So that Ayumu-san can say, "Welcome back."

Hoshino Wilm will return here—no matter how many times it takes.

…At least, I was feeling a little sentimental.

"Wilm, the current letter is 'bi,' not 'ka.'"

"I know that! That’s not the point right now! Umm… Beam Saber!"

Well, at this point, being overly serious doesn’t really suit us anyway, does it?

Thinking that, I let out a wry smile and decided to continue the shiritori.

---

I, Hoshino Wilm, may have a name like this, but I’m a Japanese Uma Musume.

Unfortunately, I don’t understand French or English. Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing to admit, but you could say I don’t understand any language besides Japanese.

If I had to name one exception, as a former otaku I can read a bit of Nordic runes. Though, so far they’ve never been useful.

Naturally, that means when I hear the race commentary in France, I have absolutely no idea what they’re saying.

The tricky part is the paddock.

French races may differ in some details, but the overall flow before a race isn’t that different from Japan. Naturally, just like in Japan, there’s an appeal time in the paddock.

As always, it’s the moment before the race when the spectators carefully look over each racer’s appearance, physical condition, and fighting spirit.

The problem is… I don’t know when I’ll be called.

Appeals in the paddock are done one by one, in the order instructed by the race organizers.

Until we’re called, we simply wander around nearby, stretch, or do some light exercises. Then, when our name is called, we head to the paddock.

The staff responsible for calling us, of course, work for the French racing organization—and naturally, they speak French and other languages.

Unfortunately—or perhaps inevitably—it seems none of the staff here speak Japanese.

Which is why, while I was lightly moving my body nearby, a staff member ended up tapping me on the shoulder and initiating a round of gesture charades.

A call for something? Inspection? Horseshoes? Ah, no? Over there?

…Ahh, okay—the paddock. Got it. Sorry for the trouble, and thank you for letting me know.

Of course, if I showed those thoughts too openly it might ruin my image here. So I simply nodded and gave a small bow before heading toward the paddock.

Now then.

When stepping into the paddock, I walk with a slow, composed stride—the kind that carries the dignity of a champion.

Once I reach the stage ahead, I stop, flick the star ornament on my chest with my finger, and unfurl my gray mantle.

After that, without making any exaggerated gestures, I simply look slightly above the fans and stand proudly with unwavering presence.

That is the basic appeal of the racing Uma Musume, Hoshino Wilm.

I can hear quite a few voices of admiration… or maybe astonishment?

So I think the appeal was a success.

…At least, I think so. Honestly, I can’t really tell. After all, I have no idea what the commentators are saying about me.

In Japan they’d say things like, “The overwhelming favorite is of course this girl, Hoshino Wilm! She’s in absolutely perfect condition!”

So I can usually tell I’m being praised.

Well, that’s just something that can’t be helped when racing overseas.

I moved my mouth plenty during that interview earlier. Now the only thing that needs to move is my legs.

For my part, all I can do is stand tall and show confidence in the race ahead.

Once the paddock appeal ends, it’s finally time to enter the main track.

We step onto the course we’ll be running today, jog lightly, settle our minds, and properly prepare both body and spirit for the race…

…However.

At that moment, something happened.

Or rather, the situation changed.

"Hmm."

Feeling something on my shoulder, I looked up.

Another drop landed on my forehead.

At first it was so faint I almost thought it was my imagination. But the drops quickly began to multiply.

“…So the weather forecast was right.”

Rain began to fall over Longchamp Racecourse.

October at Longchamp—well, Paris in general—has about a 25% chance of rain, according to Ayumu-san.

Meaning it rains about once every four days, which often leaves the track in rough condition.

…But honestly, it rains around the Arc so often that it makes me wonder if that “25%” number is even real.

The turf often becomes extremely heavy, and apparently when El-chan ran three years ago, it was recorded as the worst track condition in history.

For Japanese Uma Musume like us, who usually run on relatively light Japanese turf compared to European grass, muddy conditions that make the footing even heavier are definitely not an advantage.

Because of that, the “Japanese Uma Musume can’t win the Arc” jinx seems to have grown even stronger.

So then, what about this year’s turf condition?

Unfortunately… it’s not good.

Heavy rain fell until yesterday evening, and as a result the track condition right now is pretty bad.

According to the official announcement, it’s firmly a heavy track—far worse than what you’d usually see in Japan.

And stepping onto the track now, I can easily tell.

The ground is completely soaked. Even lightly pressing my foot down causes water to seep up.

This is definitely not ideal for running… honestly, it’s slippery enough that someone might fall if they’re unlucky.

Well, any Uma Musume who made it all the way to the Arc probably wouldn’t fall unless something extreme happened.

And if the forecast is correct, the rain is only going to get heavier from here.

“…At this rate, when the race starts, you’ll only hear hoofsteps within about seven lengths.”

“Should I say this is troublesome… or should I grin because Ayumu-san’s plan might actually work? Hard to say.”

Taking advantage of the fact that almost no Uma Musume here understand Japanese, I muttered quietly to myself.

＊　＊　＊

As the rain gradually intensified before the race, I lightly tapped my feet against the ground, getting used to the track conditions.

Naturally, the ever-cautious Ayumu-san had already anticipated something like this.

As my trainer, he had prepared countermeasures for bad track conditions.

He even rented a special course and filled it with water to recreate muddy terrain, then made me run through it.

Apparently those measures produced solid results. According to him:

"It didn’t quite reach demon-level, but it’s at least a double-circle ◎. That’s the best we can do right now."

I’m not entirely sure what “double-circle” even means, but that’s typical for him, so I let it slide.

Still, if I’m being honest, I can feel it myself—I’ve gotten much stronger on bad tracks over the past two months.

Not that I was weak to begin with.

So yes, I’ve adapted well to muddy European turf.

Even as the rain shifted from “drip drip” to something closer to a steady downpour, I kept moving my feet across the whitening track.

But suddenly—

My steps stopped.

The reason was…

"At last… the day has come."

A single Uma Musume had appeared through the curtain of rain, blocking my path.

"…………"

The moment I saw her—

I felt as if time itself had stopped.

For a brief instant, even the raindrops felt like pellets frozen in the air.

But in truth, time hadn’t actually stopped…

It was just that I—ah, it irritates me to admit it—had no choice but to acknowledge it.

I had been so captivated by her that it felt like my very soul had been stolen away.

Soaked by the pouring rain, yet the brilliance of her golden color did not fade in the slightest.

Her eyes—gleaming, fierce, like those of a savage beast—pierced straight through my heart.

People often say that I’m “a completely different person during races compared to normal.”

…but she’s even worse.

That difference probably comes from the way she approaches racing.

The one standing before me now wasn’t the girl I once saw—“a fan of Hoshino Wilm.”

This was…

an Uma Musume challenging Hoshino Wilm.

It had only been about two weeks since we last met, yet she seemed like a completely different person. Her eyes, her body, her mind—her entire presence had been refined to an ultimate degree.

…A monster that barely fits within the bounds of what can still be called an Uma Musume.

That was the honest impression I felt toward her—

Understandable.

Without realizing it, a sound escaped my throat as I swallowed.

She spoke.

"I’ve been waiting for you, Hoshino Wilm."

Strangely, the noise of the rain that had been so loud until now faded away.

My awareness was drawn entirely to the Uma Musume before me, and everything else became irrelevant.

At the same time, some oddly calm corner of my mind muttered something detached, like a spectator.

Ah… so this must be what the other girls feel when they face me.

And yet—

Standing before someone like this, the emotion flooding my chest was pure delight.

That’s not to say there was no fear.

But the joy was dozens of times stronger than that.

The joy of knowing this was going to become an unbelievably thrilling race surged through me so fiercely it felt like my chest might burst.

Honestly, I’m beyond saving.

No matter what happens, I really am a racing Uma Musume.

And then, before my eyes, Understandable let out a soft breath.

Then she began to speak.

"…Ever since that day.

Ever since the day I saw your run on the screen, I have dreamed of nothing but racing against Hoshino Wilm… and surpassing Hoshino Wilm."

Despite the intensity of what she was saying, her voice carried a strange, almost seductive tone. Depending on how you listened to it, it even held a trace of sensuality.

And honestly, that feeling probably wasn’t far off.

After all, right now she was almost certainly experiencing the same instinctive exhilaration that I was feeling—

perhaps even more.

"Finally… at last! At long last!

The day has finally come when I can run against a monster I might not be able to beat!!!"

…Yeah.

I get it.

I understand that feeling all too well.

Being the strongest, with no one standing beside you…

is incredibly boring.

That’s not a race—it’s just a solo run.

For racing Uma Musume like us, we need rivals who will run alongside us.

We need towering walls that stand in our way.

Without them…

the true fire in our hearts will never ignite.

Just like how Nice Nature—the girl who never gave up even when all she could see was my distant back—was the one who lit the fire inside Hoshino Wilm and taught me how to truly enjoy racing…

The one who lit the fire inside Understandable, and taught her to enjoy running…

was probably me, blazing forward on the track like that.

Just as I once longed endlessly to race against Nature during those days…

Understandable has spent the past year yearning to race against me.

That’s why I understand how she feels.

Because she is the person I once was.

And I’m sure she understands how I feel too.

Because I am the person she once was.

And so—

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Understandable."

My lips, which had unconsciously curled upward, finally moved.

Between us, many words weren’t necessary.

All we needed to do was place our feelings onto the melody of a few simple words and send them across.

"Shall we run the race?"

"—!!"

Just like I had moments ago, she froze for an instant.

Her body trembled, her fur bristled—

yet more than anything, her eyes declared it clearly.

That she had been waiting.

For this.

For me.

For this very moment.

With immeasurable joy, her heart cried out.

She expressed that emotion with words of pure elation and a radiant smile.

"Yes!!"

After that, we exchanged no more words.

We both understood it.

There were no more words that needed to be exchanged.

All that remained was to throw everything we had into the race.

---

Amid the relentless downpour, the distant voice of commentary echoed—unintelligible to me.

Standing inside a starting gate that looked slightly different from the ones in Japan, rainwater dripping from my racing outfit, I waited for the race to begin.

My starting position this time was 19.

In a field of twenty runners, that meant nineteenth from the inside—so not the absolute outside, but close enough to it.

If you think purely in terms of the straight-line distance to the finish, that would normally be a major disadvantage.

…However, for a front-running Uma Musume like me, the gate number doesn’t actually affect the race’s flow all that much.

After all, the moment the race begins, I take the lead and cut inward.

In fact, if you consider the worst-case scenario—messing up the start and getting boxed in by the pack—being on the outside might even be advantageous.

And besides, Longchamp Racecourse begins with a straight that stretches for about 1000 meters.

There’s plenty of time before the main pack fully forms, which is why accidents tend to happen less often.

…Though that also means the outside gates are still disadvantaged simply because the total distance they have to cover is longer.

But in the end, races are won by the stronger Uma Musume.

It’s simple—but incredibly difficult to sustain.

You endure relentless training day after day.

You carve away the weaknesses you were born with as much as possible.

You run side by side with the trainer who suits you best.

And in the end, the one who delivers a perfect run that no one can break…

is the one who wins.

…I will never deny the path that built Hoshino Wilm.

Since being born into this world, I’ve experienced all kinds of things—painful moments, hardships, joys, and happiness.

People I grew close to, people I barely knew, and people I disliked.

Everything that can be called my past has become my flesh and blood, the framework that shaped the person I am today.

Especially after meeting Ayumu-san, I’ve trained in the best possible environment, solving my problems under the best conditions imaginable.

At least from my perspective, those three years were perfect.

I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

There wasn’t a single missing piece.

The “racing Uma Musume Hoshino Wilm” I’ve built might only be a hollow shell assembled over fifteen years.

But I’ve settled every burden I carried.

I’ve erased every weakness in both mind and body.

So even if I’m a hollow shell—

I’m the toughest, most durable hollow shell anyone could imagine.

That’s why I won’t lose.

No matter how relentlessly they chase me, I’ll fly all the way to the far edge of the sky if I have to.

Holding that resolve in my heart, I glanced toward the grandstand where Ayumu-san should be watching.

Through the torrential rain—where everything should have been blurred white by the downpour—I somehow felt his gaze.

I gave a small nod.

“…Hehe. I’ll win and come back. No need to worry. I’ve already graduated from that phase.”

His anxious eyes somehow reached me, easing my heart, and I smiled softly.

Then once again, completely soaked by the rain, I waited for the race to begin.

…And then, suddenly.

One last thought surfaced in my mind.

Something I shouldn’t have needed to think about right now.

Just moments ago, right before he sent me down the underground passage toward the track…

Ayumu-san had quietly told me something.

Like he was sharing a secret.

Almost as if he felt a little guilty about it.

"I hesitated until the very last moment about whether I should tell you this… but I think now is the time."

"I’m carrying a message for you. From two of your… fans."

"They said: ‘Please enjoy yourself, and come back safely. We’ll be waiting. Have a good race.’"

"That’s all."

…I didn’t understand what that meant.

Why he chose to tell me now.

Who those two fans were.

Why Ayumu-san had struggled over something as simple as delivering that message.

I didn’t understand any of it.

But…

it made me happy.

Because it reminded me that I’ve always had someone pushing me forward.

So—

"I’m off."

I murmured the words in reply to someone, somewhere.

And then—

CLANG!

With the sharp metallic crash of the gates opening—

The Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe.

The battle to decide the strongest in the world

had begun.