Chapter 33: Spectating! The Yayoi Sho!

A lazy afternoon after finishing some soba—though I couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t quite enough. The paddock for the Yayoi Sho was finally about to begin.

We pushed our way through the crowd at Nakayama Racecourse, squeezing to the front. Leaning against the railing, I waved at familiar faces. Su-chan, King-chan, Sei-chan, and Brown-chan noticed me and widened their eyes in surprise.

The fire in everyone’s eyes today burned like a roaring waterfall, fierce with fighting spirit. Even though they were in their training gear, I could almost see them clad in racing silks.

"Gate 1, Number 1: Circuit Breaker. Ninth favorite.""Does this ranking leave her unsatisfied? We’re eager to see how she runs today."

Circuit Breaker, wearing her number cloth, smiled and waved at us spectators. Her aura was overwhelming—I instinctively grabbed Tomio’s sleeve beside me, unable to hide my unease.

"...There’s no way she’s really the ninth favorite, right?"

"Nah, it’s true. She’s a solid horse girl who’s consistently placed in graded stakes, but for this Yayoi Sho, she’s objectively a step behind."

Ninth favorite out of thirteen. Far from popular—hell, you might as well count her from the bottom. And yet, Circuit Breaker’s physique was flawless. At a glance, her perfectly balanced frame could’ve passed for a G1 horse girl’s. Not to mention, her focus was razor-sharp. An insane intensity radiated from her entire body.

Even though I knew exactly how strong Su-chan and King-chan were… I couldn’t shake the thought that Circuit Breaker might just win. How could eight others be ranked above her? What kind of Yayoi Sho was this? I watched her leave the presentation area and turned my attention to the next horse girl.

Next up was the eighth favorite, Aqua Rain—one rank higher than Circuit Breaker.

"Gate 2, Number 2: Aqua Rain. Eighth favorite.""In her last race, she dominated, shaking off her rivals at the final corner. Expect her to seize the lead from a good position today."

Aqua Rain swung her arms energetically, showing off her peak condition to the crowd. The aura around her was also G1-tier. Her coat gleamed, her hindquarters were firm, and the subtle definition in her leg muscles suggested she was the most finely tuned among all thirteen.

This Yayoi Sho’s level was insane. I couldn’t wait to see the battle down the homestretch. A shiver ran through me.

Tomio, misreading my reaction, reached over to adjust my loose scarf. His habit of fussing over odd things was both endearing and annoying.

Well, the temperature was a chilly 9°C for March. Even on a cloudy firm track, snow or rain could start anytime—so I appreciated his concern.

"Thanks."

"Yeah."

"...Hey, Tomio. If I were racing in this Yayoi Sho—... Never mind. Forget it."

"…………"

Would I have won if I’d been in this race? I almost asked, but it was a pointless question. I bit my tongue and watched as King-chan stepped up for her presentation.

"Gate 3, Number 3: King Halo. The top favorite."

King-chan threw her head back with a triumphant laugh, hand resting under her chin. After her show for the crowd, her radiant grin locked onto me.

—"Watch me, Apollo." Her expression seemed to say it.

"She’s brimming with fighting spirit! Her conditioning is impeccable. Will we see another explosive finish like in the Hopeful Stakes? She’s my top pick!"

…Oh. Hell. The moment I saw King-chan, her overwhelming presence hit me like a truck. Her blazing determination, the defined muscles visible even through her training gear—everything about her was peak performance. Not even Su-chan or Sei-chan waiting in the wings matched this level of readiness. She was dazzling. Literally glowing.

Historically, she’d lost to Special Week and Seiun Sky—but that fact had long since vanished from my mind. This was the Yayoi Sho’s strongest contender. The sheer force of the top favorite.

I nudged Tomio, about to ask for his analysis—but he met my gaze and cut in first.

"—Even if you were in that race, Apollo, you’d win without a doubt."

"Huh?!"

I gaped at him, my voice cracking in disbelief. At first, I didn’t get it—but then it clicked. He was answering the question I hadn’t asked minutes ago.

"I’ve seen you fight harder than anyone. No matter who stands in your way, Apollo Rainbow will win… That’s what I believe."

If his guess had been wrong, his words would’ve been utterly meaningless. But he had read my mind with perfect precision. His unwavering gaze locked onto me. The realization made me happy—but at the same time, the base of my tail tingled with an odd, fluttery sensation.

"...You’re laying it on too thick."

"So what? Doesn’t matter."

"...Guess not."

"Anyway, you wanted to ask about King Halo?"

"Yeah. With her as the top favorite, is she gonna win?"

"Hmm…"

Tomio turned his eyes back to the paddock.

"Gate 5, Number 6: Biwa Takehide. Sixth favorite.""She’s the most improved horse girl this spring! Can she ride that momentum to her first graded stakes victory? Keep an eye on her!"

"...Nah, King Halo’s conditioning is flawless, but she hasn’t raced once this year… That’s a huge red flag. Too much time off between races."

"So you’re saying Seiun Sky or Special Week—who’ve already won graded stakes this year—have the edge?"

"Exactly. Seiun Sky’s the only front-runner here, and her precise lap times work in her favor. But starting from the outside gate could complicate things… And Special Week’s strategy hinges on who she marks."

"Marks…?"

"Gate 5, Number 7: Brown Montblanc. Fourth favorite.""Winner of the Wakagoma Stakes, the gateway to the classics! Can she replicate her tactical front-running in this fierce field? A serious contender!"

Who would Su-chan mark? Her options boiled down to King Halo or Seiun Sky. Marking Seiun Sky—who’d likely bolt for the lead—was possible, but Su-chan had to remember her loss in last year’s Hopeful Stakes. Plus, starting from the far outside. The smart move? Hold back early and strike late. Unlike Sei-chan, who’d burn energy to secure position from the outer gate, Su-chan would conserve hers… meaning she’d probably mark King-chan.

But then, who would King-chan mark from her inside gate? Chase Seiun Sky? Or lock onto Su-chan in a mutual standoff? No—King-chan’s weapon wasn’t marking or leading. It was her explosive final 200-meter kick. A double-edged sword: lose focus for even a second, and it’d fail.

If I were her, I’d ignore everyone else and run my own race. King-chan would likely do the same—eyes forward, betting everything on the homestretch, no matter who marked her.

Seiun Sky was similar in that regard. She’d stick to her rhythm, stifling the field while keeping half an eye on Su-chan and King-chan. Marking might work, but her best chance? Total focus on herself.

"Gate 7, Number 10: Seiun Sky. Third favorite.""Undefeated after January’s Keisei Hai (G3)! Can her signature front-running prevail from this outside gate? Must-watch racing!"

My eyes snapped to the paddock just as Seiun Sky waved. Our gazes met—briefly. She offered a lazy smile, then looked away.

…Was she sizing me up? Or dismissing me as a non-threat? Maybe she was just hyper-focused. Whatever. All I needed was to burn her form and strategy into my mind. Every scrap of data was fuel to unravel this trickster’s game.

The clash of these three titans would be epic. No way I’d blink.

"Sei-chan looks a step behind."

"Huh. Weird. Her trainer’s usually sharp with adjustments… Unless she’s peaking for the Satsuki Sho? Calculated as ever."

Seiun Sky’s slender frame—paler and more delicate than King-chan’s or Su-chan’s—seemed almost underwhelming. Was this what they called "lacking presence"?

Her condition wasn’t bad—tail and ears lively as ever—but her physique felt… unfinished. Like she’d trimmed down just enough. Was she hiding her true strength for this trial? Or—?

"Ah, she’s already leaving."

Seiun Sky retreated to her trainer, smirking. Her eyes flicked to Special Week, who was bouncing nervously, then to King Halo, then Brown Montblanc… Who’s her target?! Damn it. Even if racing horse girls ignored you, they never dropped their mind games. Adorable but infuriating.

"Gate 8, Number 13: Special Week. Second favorite."

"Last year’s Hopful Stakes runner-up, then a dominant win in last month’s Kisaragi Sho (G3)! A powerhouse with elite consistency. Can she overcome this outside gate?"

Su-chan pumped her fist with a cheerful "Hee-haw!"—radiating pure, unfiltered charm. Her ever-shifting expressions were downright infectious. No wonder she had so many fans. But I forced myself to analyze:

Her form was sharp. Relaxed enough to grin at me, light on her feet, heels lifting cleanly with each hop. No fatigue, no flaws. Barring disaster, she’d be right there at the finish.

"I… I can’t tell who’ll win anymore."

"...Let’s head back. They’re about to enter the track."

"Yeah."

The paddock’s energy had made me forget—today was bitterly cold. I craved our seats and a hot tea.

As we returned, the stands trembled. The horses had taken the turf. The thud of hooves slicing grass carried all the way to us.

Su-chan, King-chan, and Brown-chan jogged lightly. But Sei-chan? She circled near the fourth corner, occasionally crouching to inspect the turf.

"...What’s she doing?"

"Who knows?"

Seiun Sky’s intentions were a mystery—but that aside, the URA-affiliated brass band had begun their march toward the outer rail, halting in perfect unison at the conductor’s signal. There was something oddly intimidating about a uniformed group like that…

The G2 Yayoi Sho was about to begin. Cheers split the air as the crowd at Nakayama Racecourse waited with bated breath for the fanfare. The moment the noise dipped slightly, the conductor’s white-gloved hands raised his baton.

With a steady rhythm, his arms swept through the air—the musicians tensed, instruments at the ready. The audience sensed it too, falling silent for a heartbeat.

Then, with the conductor’s cue, the trumpets blared. A majestic fanfare shook the stadium, vibrating through ribcages. Those fleeting seconds of music set every heart racing.

As the final note faded, deafening cheers erupted. My own adrenaline spiked, and I couldn’t stop myself from roaring:

"Heeell yeah!! Go get ’em, all of you!!"

Fanfares are a staple of Japan’s Twinkle Series, but apparently, they’re rare overseas. A few countries might do it, but—if it hypes people up like this, why not everywhere?

Watching as a spectator wasn’t bad. No, scratch that—it was thrilling. No wonder fans went wild. I was already half out of my seat, eyes glued to the turf.

From here, the track looked massive. The 2000-meter stretch felt endless, while the starting gates seemed cramped in comparison. And the horse girls themselves? Tiny.

…So small, yet moving so many hearts.

I ached to run. To stand on that classic stage and fight alongside them!

Gripping my pounding chest, I watched the gates. Seiun Sky fumbled slightly, but soon, all 13 were loaded.

"Under overcast skies at Nakayama Racecourse—a bitter chill from the low-pressure system grips the Yayoi Sho. The track is rated ‘firm.’"

"Let’s hope the weather holds."

+"Third favorite: Gate 7, Number 10, Seiun Sky. Second favorite: Gate 8, Number 13, Special Week."

Inside the gates, the girls stretched wrists and ankles, each lost in their rituals. The crowd’s noise probably didn’t reach them anymore. Like I’d experienced, at peak focus, the world goes silent.

"And today’s star—none other than this mare! The top favorite: Gate 3, Number 3, King Halo!"

"The junior champion! Look at that determined face!"

"The gates are set. All ready for the off."

The announcers fell quiet. The stadium held its breath—I could’ve heard a pin drop. Then—

"AND THEY’RE OFF!"

A metallic clang, and the thunder of hooves exploded.

The Yayoi Sho had begun. The critical prelude to the Satsuki Sho—

"A clean, even start for all!""This’ll be a fierce battle for position!"

No one stumbled or surged ahead—just a flawless, level break. Seiun Sky, from the outside gate, stretched her legs to seize the lead. Too much gas too soon?

The race’s flow: 1 front-runner, 5 pressers, 6 closers, 1 deep closer. Behind Seiun Sky, the pressers waged war for second, burning energy. Brown Montblanc clung to that spot, barely.

"Seiun Sky takes the lead as expected! But Brown Montblanc struggles in second!""King Halo sits tenth, Special Week eleventh—the early order’s already taking shape!"

"Tomio! The first 400m—what’s the time?!"

"...Too fast. 24.6 seconds."

At the Keisei Hai, Seiun Sky had carved brutal lap times for a textbook victory. Was she repeating that strategy here?

"Into the backstretch after the second turn! Seiun Sky still leads—pulling slightly? She’s 3-4 lengths ahead, running solo."

"The chase pack’s losing ground. Can they close? Watch for the timing!"

Then, mid-stretch, Seiun Sky glanced back. A split second later, she slowed the pace abruptly—her signature trick.

Brown Montblanc, now nearly on her heels, instinctively eased up too. "Am I overpacing?" Her posture stiffened as she matched the deceleration. The ripple effect hit the entire field—third, fourth, everyone bleeding momentum.

Special Week and King Halo grimaced, their rhythms disrupted. King Halo, trapped inside the pack, flicked her eyes left and right—no room to maneuver, her vision choked by bodies. And with the pace drop, the cluster tightened further.

So this was Seiun Sky’s game. Lock King Halo down while running her own race. That unassuming face hid a ruthless mind.

"T-Tomio, this is—"

"...26.5 seconds from 400m to 800m. A crawl. Brown’s lost the pace, King’s boxed in. Special Week’s staying calm, but if this holds… Seiun Sky’s stealing this."

Seiun Sky held a one-length lead over Brown Montblanc as they passed the 1000-meter marker on the backstretch. Brown, unfamiliar with front-running tactics, had clearly lost her rhythm—her expression vacant, her positioning erratic, drifting in and out. It was painful to watch. She’s done.

My eyes darted to King Halo. Trapped in the pack, she fought for space, her focus fractured. Maintaining her own pace had become secondary. In this state, her legendary final kick—the weapon that demanded perfect preparation—was as good as sealed.

So this race would come down to Seiun Sky vs. Special Week?

As Seiun Sky entered the third turn, her eyes sharpened. A sudden, violent inhale—then she exploded forward, surging with a sprint-like intensity.

"S-Sei-chan?!"

"Wha—? Why—?!"

Tomio fumbled his stopwatch. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even the commentators reeled.

"Is this—Seiun Sky losing control?! She’s charging into the third and fourth turns at a blistering, unsustainable pace!""She’s overpacing—no way she lasts to the wire!"

After forcing the field into a crawl, her play should’ve been to maintain that slow tempo. This kamikaze sprint made no sense.

Was she just showing off? No. Flashy theatrics were never the goal—only victory mattered. So why strike now? For a front-runner like her, the formula was simple: Disrupt the others’ rhythm, conserve energy, and slow the pace as long as possible.

Had she… snapped?

"Into the final turn! Seiun Sky leads, but Special Week is gaining rapidly—moving from sixth to fourth! King Halo’s trapped, her timing ruined!"

Mid-turn, Seiun Sky still held the lead. At this brutal pace, her face should’ve been contorted in agony—

—but she was smiling.

"Sei-chan—"

That grin told me everything. This wasn’t collapse. It was calculated self-destruction. She was pushing past her limits, using the Yayoi Sho’s stage and rivals as fuel to ignite her awakening—to reach the transcendent "Zone."

Yet breaching limits meant agony. Just before the homestretch, Seiun Sky swerved violently inward, nearly clipping the rail. A collective gasp. Tomio muttered, "Why would she—?"

Special Week, comfortably in second, had reserves. As she unfurled her stride, I caught Seiun Sky’s lips forming two words:

"Catch me."

Then—

"—!!"

A chill ripped through me—the same dread I’d felt in the Hopeful Stakes, or against Mejiro McQueen. A wave of something pulsed across the track.

My vision whited out. A scalding, cleansing wind tore through the overcast sky, searing my neck.

No mental landscape manifested. But this was undeniably the Zone.

Who? Who had awakened?

Squinting, I searched the homestretch. The commentator’s voice boomed:

"Seiun Sky digs deep to hold her lead! But Special Week’s closing like a storm! King Halo’s stalled in fifth—she can’t respond!"

The light faded. In its wake, the two rivals locked into a death struggle. Seiun Sky, defying all logic, clung to her suicidal pace. Yet Special Week, surging with terrifying momentum, closed the gap—three lengths, then two.

Both were running the race of their lives. But raw power favored Special Week. The distance between them shrank with every stride. As their screams seemed to reach the stands, I clasped my hands.

—Just both of you, win already.

I was anxious about the "Zone." There was regret over missing the Yayoi Sho, and unease about prize money. But more than anything—I wanted to keep watching forever. To witness this duel between Seiun Sky and Special Week, yet also desperately wish for both of them to win.

The "Zone"—awakened through a life-or-death battle with a rival—radiated a brilliance so intense, it could captivate even your fiercest competitor.

This was what it meant to be a horse girl. This was the strength of those who raced with their hearts on the line.

How breathtaking. How utterly dazzling.

"Hang in there—HANG IN THEEEEEERE!! WIN!! WIN, DAMN IT!!"

Nakayama Racecourse erupted. The crowd reached a fever pitch—every single person on their feet, fists raised. Even trainers forgot their "enemy analysis," swept up as pure fans.

Amid the deafening cheers, the commentator’s voice cracked with emotion:

"Seiun Sky holds on!! Special Week claws her way forward!! Who will it be?! Seiun?! Special?! King Halo surges to third—but it’s too late for her!!"

At the 200-meter mark, Special Week finally drew even. She screamed like her lungs would burst. Seiun Sky refused to yield.

"Special Week pulls ahead—NO! Seiun Sky fights back!! They’re neck and neck!! Neither will surrender!! This is unreal!! Either could win!!"

Seiun rallied with sheer grit—Special countered, stretching her neck. The lead swapped twice, three times—until, with 50 meters left, Seiun finally faltered.

The crowd exploded.

"AND THE WINNER IS—SPECIAL WEEK!! After the Kisaragi Sho and now the Yayoi—she’s set her sights on the Satsuki Sho!! In a photo finish, it’s SPECIAL WEEEEK!!"

A half-length victory. The champion of the G2 Yayoi Sho was none other than Special Week—the girl aiming to become Japan’s greatest horse girl.

King Halo, a distant third, trailed Seiun Sky by five lengths. Fourth place lagged three more behind. The gap between the top two and the rest was stark.

Special Week stood frozen, staring at the tote board—until Seiun Sky jogged over, shrugged, and laughed dryly. Only then did the reality of her victory hit. Special’s face lit up like fireworks.

The crowd roared in unison.

"Congrats, Special Week!!"

"Seiun Sky, you were amazing too!!"

"We’re counting on you for the Satsuki Sho!!"

I couldn’t move.

Not just from the race’s aftermath—but because something pierced my heart.

To awaken the "Zone," you needed a stage like this. A battle so extreme, so perfectly matched, that it brushed against the sublime. That was the realm of unique skills.

And I—

I can’t afford to fall behind.

Hand over my chest, I swore two oaths:

—Win the Wakaba Stakes.

—Awaken my "Zone."