Chapter 23: About the Gray Blazing Frontrunner Horse Girl / Special Week

——Late October, Junior Division. Special Week stood stunned.

"Trainer... this is..."

"Yeah. We've got ourselves one hell of an unorthodox frontrunner here..."

Special Week's trainer—Okino Trainer—crushed his lollipop between his teeth while scratching his buzzcut with his index finger. Though his voice sounded troubled, his eyes remained glued to the television screen.

——The race they were watching was the Shigiku Sho handicap race held at Kyoto Racecourse, featuring its victorious horse girl: Apollo Rainbow.

Even before this victory, Apollo Rainbow had been famous in a certain sense—not for her strength, but for her tragic backstory.

During her debut race, Apollo Rainbow suffered a nosebleed that nearly forced her withdrawal, resulting in a crushing defeat. In her subsequent maiden race, she inexplicably slowed down at the final corner and lost. Many fans on social media rallied behind her, seeing her defeat as clearly stemming from flashbacks to her disastrous debut.

Then, in an August maiden race, though she momentarily hesitated, she shook off the phantom haunting the final corner and won spectacularly. Though merely a maiden race victory, it sent Apollo's fans into a frenzy.

——So far, so good. But what came next—Apollo Rainbow's rapid evolution—was what truly alarmed Special Week's camp.

This growth became most apparent in the Shigiku Sho now playing on TV. Okino Trainer had certainly been aware of Apollo Rainbow's talent as a formidable frontrunner. But witnessing this race forced him to completely reconsider.

First, her impeccable start. The moment the gates opened, she exploded forward with terrifying reaction speed—her initial dash was flawless. Whether from the inside or outside post, catching her seemed nearly impossible.

Next, her merciless acceleration. A pacing strategy born from utter disregard for her own stamina. Okino theorized that Apollo Rainbow's fearless speed stemmed from absolute confidence in her boundless endurance. Otherwise, the very idea of maintaining such a murderous pace over 2000 meters would never occur to her. Conventional frontrunning relies on conserving energy for the final stretch—but this was anything but conventional.

And then, her cornering—maintaining top speed while hugging the tightest line through the first turn. This shocked Okino most. Apollo Rainbow pressed herself flush against the inner rail, leaning her body to the limit, digging her horseshoes into the turf to counteract centrifugal force. Beyond sheer technique, it was her courage and burning will to win that left him speechless.

This was the same Apollo Rainbow who had once been traumatized mid-race to the point of flashbacks. Now, she possessed the mental fortitude to attack the innermost rail without hesitation.

Her physical growth was impressive, but this mental evolution was truly frightening. Physical injuries heal quickly—psychological wounds often take far longer. For her to overcome such hurdles in this short time proved her extraordinary mental strength.

As Okino pondered—having rewatched this race enough to memorize its timing—Apollo Rainbow entered the backstretch.

She continued accelerating through the second turn, and even upon hitting the straight, she showed no signs of slowing. After briefly checking behind her using the turn's angle, she accelerated further.

None could even touch her shadow now—only Apollo Rainbow, having reached maximum velocity, entered the third turn. Her face twisted in pain as she climbed Yodo Hill, yet despite her strained expression, she crested the slope with only a minimal, acceptable drop in speed.

Such incredible grit and cardiovascular strength. Coupled with her instinctive race sense—knowing exactly when to push without fear—and her seamless reacceleration while descending Yodo Hill... Okino couldn't help but think: Who the hell trained her to be this refined?

On screen, Apollo Rainbow blasted past the finish line—a complete blowout victory, complete with a new record. Yet her dissatisfied expression only further intrigued Okino. A relentless perfectionist. This horse girl left no openings.

Rubbing his temples, Okino paused the footage. Beside him, Special Week wore a tense expression.

"...Apollo-chan is really strong..."

"Yeah. Sickeningly so."

Though they'd rewatched the Shigiku Sho countless times, Okino still struggled to devise countermeasures against a junior racer with such polished technique.

"Spe, what do you make of Apollo Rainbow?"

"Hmm... It's not quite the same as Suzuka-san's ideal frontrunning, but it feels similar."

——Frontrunning. Generally seen as a high-risk, crowd-pleasing strategy. But as Silence Suzuka's trainer, Okino knew something others didn't: A perfected frontrun is the ultimate strategy.

Silence Suzuka hadn't yet reached her full awakening, but with continued training, she'd soon bloom into a dominant force in next year's senior division. By then, she'd have mastered frontrunning—and once perfected, nothing would stop her. It might take time, but her run would be unstoppable.

...The frontrunning Silence Suzuka was honing now would blossom through talent and relentless effort. A culmination of physical and mental maturity. And yet—Apollo Rainbow was approaching that same pinnacle as a junior.

The invincible, ultimate frontrunning strategy Okino aimed to create with Silence Suzuka... Though their end goals differed, Apollo Rainbow was clearly a prodigy of similar caliber. If Silence Suzuka's style was breaking away and escaping to win, then Apollo Rainbow's destiny might be blazing ahead and grinding them all to dust. Okino suspected her running style leaned more toward the latter.

A terrifying frontrunner who forced unavoidable stamina battles. A sudden, troublesome wall. Rumor had it she'd be entering the Hopeful Stakes—news that hit Okino and Special Week like a thunderbolt. They'd thought King Halo would be their only real concern.

"Her trainer is... what, one of Amami-san's disciples? Momozawa? Ugh... Just great. First Teio, now another of Amami-san's students blocking our path..."

"Apollo Rainbow must have an absurdly durable body. Understanding this, Momozawa has undoubtedly subjected her to relentless Spartan training. For a rookie trainer, his approach is alarmingly methodical and airtight."

(...Amami-san’s motto was ‘Jinba Ittai’ [horse and rider as one]. Momozawa was raised under her wing... So his synergy with Apollo Rainbow must be flawless.)

Amami Hikari—Momozawa’s mentor and the brilliant trainer who cultivated Mejiro McQueen. She stood closer to McQueen than anyone else, embodying Jinba Ittai throughout their growth. The result? A legacy of dominance: the Kikuka Sho, Takarazuka Kinen, and back-to-back Tenno Sho (Spring) victories.

"So the sub-trainer who stood in Tokai Teio’s way with McQueen has now brought us a carbon copy, huh?" Okino Trainer’s pulse quickened at this unforeseen rival. Rewinding the footage, he turned to Special Week:

"...Spe, change of plans. For the Hopeful Stakes, we’re marking Apollo Rainbow."

Originally, they’d focused on King Halo, the expected contender. But a horse girl arriving fresh off a record-breaking run altered everything.

Letting King Halo go unmarked would be painful—but leaving Apollo Rainbow unchecked was far more terrifying. Special Week agreed, yet the abruptness gave her pause.

"The Hopful Stakes is over a month away! Should we really decide this already?"

"‘Already’? We’re late. If we don’t start countermeasures now, we’ll never catch up to her growth rate..."

Six months ago, Apollo Rainbow had raced in the same junior stakes Special Week won—and suffered a humiliating defeat, showing zero promise. Yet in half a year, she’d risen to become the generation’s dark horse. She was trying to surpass Special Week’s innate talent through sheer effort alone.

It was unnatural. Okino couldn’t fathom what drove Apollo Rainbow so fiercely—but understanding wasn’t necessary. They had to fight regardless.

A relentless frontrunner who’d force a brutal stamina battle the moment they shared a track. Special Week and Okino now faced their greatest obstacle yet.

Their secret "Anti-Apollo Rainbow" training hit an immediate wall:

"...We don’t have a practice partner."

Though other horse girls were willing to spar with Special Week, none replicated Apollo’s blazing frontrunning style. Silence Suzuka’s frontrunning was still under development—pushing her now would be reckless. Mejiro Palmer, Daitaku Helios, and Twin Turbo were all top-tier stars; summoning them for a single training session was near impossible.

Okino arranged mock races with conventional frontrunners, but frontrunning and blazing frontrunning were worlds apart. Days slipped by with no progress.

"Spe, wrap it up. Rain’s coming."

"Got it!"

As Special Week jogged off the wood course, Okino retreated to the trainer’s room. Their Apollo countermeasures were stagnant—while her camp was surely refining strategies against Special Week and King Halo with precision.

Three weeks until the race. Okino’s frustration mounted.

Frontrunning was cheap. Without countermeasures, you were guaranteed to be crushed—yet the frontrunner faced no such constraints. The imbalance was infuriating.

Silence Suzuka’s mastery was almost there. Once her frontrunning evolved into a true blazing frontrun, they’d finally glimpse Apollo’s back. Then they could strategize. For now, endurance was their only option. Okino rewatched the Shigiku Sho footage, arms crossed.

---

—December.

Silence Suzuka’s frontrunning transcended from a "reckless gamble" to a "calculated strategy." Though delayed, she’d finally glimpsed her own horizon.

Special Week was overjoyed. Her idol’s awakening had to be celebrated—she even gifted Suzuka carrots sent from her countryside mother, grinning as the usually reserved Suzuka flushed and murmured, "Thank you, Spe-chan."

But the real victory lay elsewhere: At last, they could simulate a blazing frontrun.

Before Special Week could ask, Okino had already arranged a duel—a 2000m mock race mirroring the Hopeful Stakes.

"Go all out. Lose decisively—and learn."

Beating a perfected frontrun on the first try was near impossible. Special Week understood and nodded firmly, taking her position at the starting line.

"Suzuka-san, please go easy on me!""Of course, Spe-chan."

Suzuka’s smile was gentle—until the moment faded. Her expression sharpened like ice. A shiver ran down Special Week’s spine. The race had already begun.

Okino raised his stopwatch.

"Ready—GO!"

The moment the race began, Silence Suzuka exploded forward. It wasn’t that Special Week’s start was bad—it’s just that Suzuka was too damn good. Before she knew it, Suzuka had carved out a lead, already banking into the first turn.

(T-This is a blazing frontrun…?! It’s nothing like a normal frontrunning strategy!)

Special Week had raced Suzuka before her awakening, but this was her first time facing the perfected version. And now, she was drowning in its brutality.

(She’s not slowing down at all! How am I supposed to catch up to this?!)

Suzuka tore through the early laps with zero regard for pace, stretching the gap to five lengths by the backstretch. Panic crept into Special Week’s chest.

When she dared a glance ahead—Suzuka’s expression was calm. Not even a flicker of concern for the rival gasping behind her. Just pure, unrelenting focus. A tyranny of talent, crushing Special Week under its heel.

(I’ll close in after the final turn! I won’t lose—not to Apollo, not to Suzuka-san!)

Blind to the suicidal pace she’d been dragged into, Special Week entered the final corner a second too late. Suzuka’s back loomed just within reach—

(Got you!!)

She pulled level. Even a blazing frontrun has to fade eventually, she thought.

"Huh—?"

Then Suzuka accelerated again. Matching Special Week’s closing speed—no, surpassing it.

Special Week strained every muscle, but the gap refused to shrink. In the end, Suzuka crossed the line four lengths ahead.

"Well, Spe? It might differ slightly from Apollo’s style… but this is the blazing frontrun you’re up against.""……!"

Kneeling on the turf, Special Week gritted her teeth too hard to reply. Defeat burned in her throat, but her mind raced—How do I break this?

Yet one race wasn’t enough. Wiping her sweat, she bowed to Okino and Suzuka.

"…Trainer! Suzuka-san! Again, please! I need to crack this!"

"…You heard her, Suzuka. Can you go?"

"Of course."

Suzuka’s smile was serene. Not a single drop of sweat on her. The sight drowned Special Week in frustration.

(I’ll beat you…! I swear it!

After a brief rest, the second match began. This time, Special Week opted for early pressure, clinging to Suzuka’s flank from the start.

But her natural running style demanded reserving stamina for the final sprint. She seized the lead by the backstretch—only to hit her limit. As her legs betrayed her, Suzuka reclaimed the front and crushed her again.

"Haah…! Again! One more time!!"

"…Alright. Let’s run, Spe-chan. ♪"

Third race. Special Week switched to a late charge.

Yet—Suzuka’s closing speed was untouchable. Another loss.

"——!"

It was unfair. That single word defined Silence Suzuka’s blazing frontrun.

Chase her down early? You’d burn out. Wait for the straight? The gap became unreachable. Without team tactics, it was suicide.

(How…? HOW?!)

By the tenth race, Suzuka hadn’t surrendered the lead once. Special Week had been force-fed the obscene strength of a perfected frontrun

But—her spirit wasn’t shattered.

How do I break this? How do I beat Apollo, who runs like Suzuka?

She experimented, failed, and adapted.

Objectively, a junior like Special Week couldn’t match a classic-tier horse girl’s polish. Losing to Suzuka didn’t diminish her worth—hanging on at all was a feat.

Okino smirked, sucking the last of his lollipop as he watched Special Week stagger upright. This kid’s talent is monstrous. Her unbreakable will commanded respect.

"We’re done for today. Good work, both of you. Spe—meet me in the trainer’s room. Got it?"

"……Yes! Great work today, everyone!"

"Great work today. See you later, Spe-chan."

"Yes! Thank you, Suzuka-san!"

After watching Silence Suzuka jog off, the two of them headed to the trainer's room. Even on the way, Special Week was racking her brain, thinking, How can I break through a front-running strategy? Admiring her determination, the trainer pulled up footage of the Shigiku Cup.

"Spe. I think you can see it now—the crucial difference between Suzuka and Apollo’s front-running styles."

Special Week’s gaze locked onto Apollo Rainbow. In an instant, her mind replayed Apollo Rainbow and Silence Suzuka racing side by side. Two front-runners, yet fundamentally different in nature. Their strengths, their quirks, their mismatched tendencies—everything surfaced in Special Week’s mind.

The biggest difference between Apollo Rainbow and Silence Suzuka was—

"Apollo-chan… unlike Suzuka-san, she’s checking behind her…?"

"……Right. That is Apollo Rainbow’s one tiny weakness—for now."

In Silence Suzuka’s case, she never once glanced back until she blasted past the finish line. But in the footage, Apollo Rainbow kept turning her head to check behind her.

Wait, isn’t it normal for a front-runner to check behind them? Just as Special Week thought that, she recalled the trainer’s earlier words. How is checking behind you a weakness?

"…………"

Looking closer, Apollo Rainbow’s glances back were slightly more frequent than necessary. It almost looked like she was subconsciously afraid of someone chasing her down. Ah, I get it— Because she lacked experience being marked, she instinctively feared the unknown, leading to those extra checks.

"Trainer… I think I might know how to beat Apollo-chan now."

"Yeah. Funny—I was thinking the same thing. I’m willing to bet on that possibility."

"……But how do I actually mark her?"

"Apollo’s top speed is impressive, but not on Suzuka’s level. She has a habit of briefly catching her breath and looking back near the second corner—so we target that exact moment and latch onto her! If she feels the pressure and pushes too hard, that’s our opening."

Special Week nodded firmly. And so, with Silence Suzuka’s strength as their reference, the two of them crafted a strategy to mark Apollo from the front.

Then came the day of the Hopeful Stakes—where Special Week faced three unexpected twists.

First: Though the marking strategy worked, Apollo Rainbow’s stamina didn’t run out even after a 2,000-meter all-out sprint.

Second: Special Week herself got caught up in Apollo’s pace and pushed too hard.

And the third, final twist—in the last stretch, King Halo came flying in with a terrifying burst of speed.

The one who seized victory wasn’t Apollo Rainbow or Special Week—it was King Halo.

While everyone else got dragged into the blistering pace, King Halo bided her time at the very back, enduring, waiting. Then, at the only moment that mattered, she unleashed her closing speed, slipping past the two exhausted front-runners by a nose.

Special Week’s strategy had been 80% successful. But races are also a matter of luck. Any one of them could have won—yet this time, it was King Halo. That’s all there was to it.

Stunned by the sudden strike from outside her awareness, Special Week broke down in frustration after the race, alone. She screamed into a tree stump, cried her heart out—then faced her defeat head-on and resolved to rise again, stronger. Never again.