Chapter 39: The Decisive Battle! The Satsuki Sho! (Part 1)
After changing into my racing uniform and finishing my makeup, I stood in front of the full-length mirror. Though this would only be my second time racing in this outfit, the wedding dress-style silks already felt like a longtime partner. The comfort was undeniableâdespite how it should have restricted movement, my range of motion remained strangely unaffected.
Was this the work of the so-called "Uma Soul" imbued in the silks? I couldnât say for sure, but their presence filled me with confidence.
As the staff left, my trainer entered the room and began circling me, inspecting every detail. I wagged my tail assertively, and after a moment, he nodded in satisfaction.
"Yeah. Your conditioning is flawlessâIâd say youâre in peak form. And the silks suit you."
Before I knew it, we were nearly due in the paddock. Since the Twinkle Series blended sports and entertainment, sloppy presentation was forbidden. These moments would be immortalized in broadcasts and recordings, so the staff meticulously handled my hair, makeup, and silksâthe latter of which, apparently, were a nightmare to put on.
Not that I minded. The time-consuming process had earned me my trainerâs praise, and standing in a "T-pose" during fitting had doubled as meditation.
"âŚTime for the paddock."
"Right. The 9th race, the Keiyo Stakes, is already over. We should head out."
The Satsuki Sho was Race 10 at Nakayama, and the preceding open-class Keiyo Stakes had just concluded. Since that was a dirt sprint, the turf conditions shouldnât have shifted drastically. The "Green Belt" would still be there.
"Apollo Rainbow, itâs about timeâ"
A staff memberâs voice came from beyond the knocked door. In unison, we rose, exchanged a glance, and nodded. Without another word, we set off for Nakayamaâs paddock.
â50 minutes until the race.
Over 100,000 spectators swarmed Nakayamaâs paddock, pressing against the fences for a closer look at the Umamusume. Yet not a single fan breached the boundariesâproof of their discipline.
Within the paddock stood 18 girls vying for the title of "Fastest Umamusume." Some studied rivals with their trainers, others meditated with closed eyes, and a few fidgeted restlessly. Beneath the clear sky, each passed the time as they saw fit. I belonged to the first groupâmy eyes locked on Seiun Sky, Special Week, and King Halo, refusing to miss even a second of their movements.
Then, as if on cue, the first contenderâShadow Stalker in Gate 1âwas ushered onto the stage. Familiar commentary echoed from above.
["Gate 1, Shadow Stalker. 11th in odds."]
["Though unpopular, sheâs a skilled runner. Watch for a surprise strategy."]
Shadow Stalker stepped forward, her expression tense, then dramatically flung off her jacket. The flamboyant gesture sent the garment spiraling through the air, drawing a roar from the crowd. Nakayamaâs energy was already peaking.
["Incredible cheersâit feels like the homestretch, and the race hasnât even begun!"]
["With todayâs record turnout, this reactionâs no surprise."]
When Seiun Skyâs turn came as the third contender, she emerged with an uncharacteristically sharp gaze. This was the true debut of her silks. While I knew the design, the audience and other Umamusume didnât. As her hand hovered over her draped jacket, audible gulps rippled through the crowd.
The usually aloof Seiun Skyânow radiating dominanceâtossed the jacket with regal flair. Spectators briefly fixated on the airborne fabric before their eyes snapped back to her silks, gasps erupting in waves.
Her silver-dappled coat glittered under the sun, and her clear blue eyes shone so brilliantly they nearly erased her mischievous nature. The outfit itself was a frothy white ensemble with green and yellow accents, adorned with cloud motifs on the shorts and ear capâa perfect reflection of her name.
The design, evoking the dayâs boundless skies, captivated the crowd. Every slight wave of her hand sent onlookers into a frenzy.
["âGate 2, Seiun Sky. 2nd in odds."]
["What a stunning appearance⌠What will she unleash in this Satsuki Sho? Letâs find out."]
Ah, trulyâshe was in such perfect form that it almost made me resent her. So much so that she didnât even hint at hiding it.
Her ears perked energetically at every shout of her name, her tail swaying conspicuously. When her trainer, Kisaragi, whispered something while clasping her shoulder, Seiunâs expression brightened further. Too much.
âŚWaiting for her to slip up wasnât an option. How were Special Week and King Halo faring? I tracked Seiunâs exit from the stage, then turned my scrutiny to the othersâjust as King Haloâs introduction began.
["Gate 6, King Halo. 4th in odds."]
["She looks sharp too! Can her tactical prowess secure a prime position? Keep an eye on that devastating late kick!"]
The commentatorâs remark followed Destinateâs strong presence in Gate 6-11. King Halo flicked off her jacket with refined grace, settling into her signature noblewomanâs poseâchin delicately cupped, brows arched, lips curved in a poised smile.
Her condition was undeniably solid. Not quite at her Hopeful Stakes peak, but her dark bay coat gleamed, and her musculature looked sharper than ever since the Yayoi Sho. She was a force to reckon with. At her best, she or Special Week could dominate this field. For a front-runner like me, King Halo was a nightmare. All I could do was pray sheâd lose rhythm and never unleash that monstrous closing speedâbecause once she did, victory became near impossible.
After King Halo withdrew, my turn finally came. I stepped onto the stage, swiped my right hand outward, and flung my jacket aside.
["Gate 8-17, Apollo Rainbow. 3rd in odds."]
["Hmm⌠Sheâs in spectacular form herself. The wide gate and front-running style stack the odds against her, but can she deliver the race fans crave? And will she challenge the record? Stay tuned."]
The moment my silks were fully revealed, the crowdâs murmur briefly stilled. Honestly, I got it. This wedding-dress-inspired outfit was too striking. The aqua embroidery, the asymmetrical black-and-white heelsâbut above all, the stark white fabric demanded attention. Or maybe they were staring at my midriff. Who knew?
"The Satsuki ShoâClassicâs first leg. Iâm backing Apollo Rainbow."
"Since when?"
"Canât you see it? That blue aura blazing off her. Reminds me of Rice Showerâs intensity."
"No aura here, but⌠she does feel different. Though Seiun Sky, King Halo, and Special Week give me the same vibeâŚ"
"Yeah⌠Those four are burning brightest. Honestly, Seiunâs aura might be stronger, butâ! Iâve cheered for Apollo from the start! Todayâs the day she claims her first G1âI believe it!"
"Thisâll be the greatest Satsuki Sho yet. Letâs give it everything!!"
Secondsâor minutesâlater, I pivoted offstage toward my trainer. Next up: the overwhelming favorite, Special Week.
As I passed her, a bob-cut black mane and white braid flashed in my periphery. We didnât exchange glances, but the awareness was mutual. In this arena, the four of usâSpecial Week, King Halo, Seiun Sky, and Iâhad dissected each other relentlessly: marking threats, weighing data, honing countermeasures. Weâd pushed one another to this precipice, each convinced the others were stronger.
Passing Special Week, I sensed something newâan intangible growth beyond what winter and spring training could quantify. Crossing my arms in the paddock, I watched her introduction.
With determined nods, Special Week hurled her jacket skyward, nearly flipping her skirt in the process. The crowd erupted as her idol-esque silksâwhite, lavender, and blush pinkâcame into view.
["Gate 8-18, Special Week. Top favorite."]
["My personal pick! That lively jump confirms her condition. Can her Yayoi Sho-winning speed overcome the outer gate? Donât blink!"]
Her tailâs buoyant sway alone betrayed her peak form. As she passed, Tomio inhaled sharply beside me. I leaned in, and his whisper cut through the noise:
"Seiun Sky remains our mark. No strategy shifts unless she collapses mid-race. As planned."
"...Understood."
With all three rivals in top condition, deviations were pointless. Contingencies existed solely for Seiunâs catastrophic failureâa redundant precaution.
Once introductions ended, we filed onto the track through the dedicated path. Horses from Gate 1 onward galloped onto the turf, electrifying the stands.
I shouldâve followed immediately, butâI couldnât. Instead, I clutched Tomioâs hand.
"âŚâŚâŚâŚ"
Battle-lust thrummed in my veins, yet facing the roaring turf ahead, a tremor of nerves took hold. Normally, holding hands was a sweet ritual to channel affection. But this was the precipice of the Classicsâa once-in-a-lifetime, terrifyingly real moment.
With my girlâs heart laid bare, I froze. Sensing my trembling grip, Tomio brushed his free hand through my hair.
"Itâs okay⌠Youâve got this, Apollo. Iâm right here."
"âŚâŚReally?"
The words slipped outâuncharacteristically fragile, yet undeniably my own. I tightened my grip on his hand. The next moment, his wry smile flashed before I found myself enveloped in his arms.
Warmth. Weightlessness. The scent of him. Tension melted as fireâboth competitive and romanticâignited within that embrace.
"I can't fight on the turf for you. You'll stand alone out there. But I'll always be running beside you."
"...Yeah."
"Trust me, Apollo. Trust yourselfâand your trainer."
"âYeah!"
His voice was the final push. As his arms released meâ"Go get 'em."âI launched myself toward the turf.
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