Chapter 60: The Worst Possible Nightmare

The Kobe Shimbun Hai was Special Week’s stage alone. Destinate sank to the lower ranks, while Zenno Joyful finished second, eight lengths behind. Joyful grumbled, "My late kick didn’t fire, and I just wasn’t motivated unless it was 2600 meters or longer," but even at her best, it’s doubtful she could have caught Special Week.

As for the mixed-generation Kyoto Daishōten, Seiun Sky’s trick worked flawlessly, completely shutting down Mejiro Bright and denying her any chance to run her own race. Her overwhelming front-running instincts were on full display.

Time flew to the third week of October, one week before the Kikuka Shō. At this point, it wasn’t so much about venturing into the unknown—King Halo, Special Week, and Seiun Sky had continued growing even after summer break ended, forcing us to refine our strategies again and again.

We had grown complacent. There was arrogance in thinking, "If things go smoothly, we’ll crush the Kikuka Shō." But look at how those three performed in their prep races—their dominance was nothing short of monstrous. The initial assumption that "the Kikuka Shō should be an easy win" turned out to be wrong. Through unimaginable effort, they had pushed their abilities into unpredictable territory.

Even when I announced my participation in the Kikuka Shō, the public was shocked—but those three didn’t seem fazed at all. It was safe to assume they already had a good grasp of my capabilities.

Still… was there really a horse girl who could overtake me when I was running long-distance at record pace? Honestly, I didn’t want such a rival to exist. If someone like that showed up, I’d be helpless. But… I had a feeling those three might be exactly that kind of threat.

In the end, just like we discussed during the St. Lite Memorial, without foresight, all we could do was fight desperately. Realizing this, my trainer arranged joint training—because solo sessions wouldn’t be enough to compete against King Halo, Special Week, and Seiun Sky in peak condition.

Our training partners? Guriko and Happy Meek.

Guriko was part of a team, but her trainer graciously allowed her to train with me until the Kikuka Shō. Her next race was the Mile Championship a month later, so refreshing her routine under another trainer’s guidance wasn’t a bad idea. As for Happy Meek, her trainer, Kiryūin Aoi, agreed immediately when Toshio brought up the idea.

By the way, Guriko had just won the Sprinters Stakes. Despite Taiki Shuttle and Seeking the Pearl being slightly off their game due to mysterious weight issues, Guriko was the only one in Japan who could keep up with them.

Her next race was the Mile Championship, followed by the Hong Kong Sprint. Both Guriko and Meek had over three weeks until their next races, which was why they could lend a hand. I always felt like I was the one being helped by my friends—I hoped I could repay them someday.

"Happy Meek, Green Titten, thank you for helping with Apollo’s training over the next three days."

"Vee vee!"

"V-Vee…?"

The training with these two would be a mock race simulating the real thing. Guriko would play the role of the closers (Special Week and King Halo), while Happy Meek, naturally a front-runner, would push herself to emulate Seiun Sky’s relentless pace.

Guriko’s explosive speed made her one of Japan’s best sprinters, perfect for mimicking a late charge. Meanwhile, Happy Meek would push beyond her usual limits to replicate Seiun Sky’s runaway dominance.

Since I’d already announced my participation in the Kikuka Shō, there was no need to train in secret. Cheers rained down on Guriko, Meek, and me as we began our specialized training on the track.

"Apollo! Go all out! Happy Meek and Green Titan(Guriko) will join at the 2400-meter mark!"

"I know, damn it!"

This exercise treated 3000 meters—the Kikuka Shō’s distance—as one set. First, I’d sprint the initial 2400 meters alone at full speed. Then, at the 2400-meter point, Guriko and Meek, already warmed up, would enter the fray. The real challenge began here—they’d sandwich me, one from the front, one from behind, forcing me to outrun Guriko’s closing burst and Meek’s front-running speed over the final 600 meters.

Toshio designed this to simulate the Kikuka Shō’s final stretch—from the last corner to the finish line, roughly 600 meters at Kyoto Racecourse. This was where most horse girls would make their move. Having Guriko and Meek run the full 3000 meters would drain their stamina too quickly, so focusing on the decisive 600 meters preserved their energy while still testing my limits.

The training began cautiously, but in the end, it was a resounding success. The mock races felt so real that I won five out of ten attempts—losing three times to Happy Meek (playing Seiun Sky) and twice to Guriko (playing Special Week/King Halo). A fifty-fifty win rate.

That said, both Guriko and Meek admitted, "There’s no way we could keep this up for 3000 meters." Guriko was one thing, but if even Meek—who could handle long distances—said so, then my racing style must be brutal.

By the end, the training proved incredibly fruitful. Analyzing the five losses gave us valuable insights, and their words only strengthened my confidence in my strategy. All that remained was to keep refining my craft.

"Alright, Apollo, head back to the trainer’s room first. I need to talk with Kiryūin."

"Mm, see you later."

After training, I parted ways with my trainer for the moment. A quick shower and change of clothes later, I headed to the trainer’s building, sliding the spare key into the lock and giving it a twist. The trainer’s room, now chilly with the deepening autumn air, greeted me. I flicked on the lights, adjusted the AC with the remote, and made my way to the kitchen to brew coffee for both of us—black for him, lightly sweetened for me, both with a splash of milk.

"Hmm hmm hmm~"

In no time, steaming mugs were set on the empty desk. I settled onto the sofa, sipping mine while waiting for him, fatigue finally catching up. Might as well zone out until he returns.

"...Slow."

Five minutes passed. Still no sign of him. Maybe he’s deep in conversation with Kiryūin. Well, I shouldn’t meddle in adult matters. With my coffee gone, I had nothing to do. Gravity pulled me down onto the sofa, my head lolling against the armrest.

"Haaah..."

I exhaled and closed my eyes. Toshio will wake me when he gets back. Hopefully, he’s not the type to snap pics of sleeping faces—though mine is adorable.

"Fwaaah..."

———

When did I lose consciousness?

When I came to, I was standing on the turf of Kyoto Racecourse. The world was washed in monochrome, black mist curling through the packed stands. Seventeen horse girls surrounded me. A dissonant fanfare, warped as if echoing underwater, blared. Everyone else slid smoothly into the gates while I stood frozen, bewildered.

『■ Gate ■, ■■■■■■■, now entering.』

This was surreal. No buildup, no preparation—just here, thrust onto the track. The distant commentary and cheers didn’t sound like the usual focused roar. It was oppressive, like whispers—or stifled laughter. The air itself reeked of negativity.

Shaking my head, I noticed everyone was in their racing uniforms. Kyoto Racecourse + uniforms = the Kikuka Shō. Right. I nodded vaguely.

But something far more critical nagged at me. My awareness of being Apollo Rainbow felt hazy, untethered. Why was I here? Why couldn’t I look down at my own feet? My limbs were numb, my footing unstable. I needed to figure this out, yet my thoughts slipped away like sand. Like following a script, I just... stood there.

Entering the gate was a struggle. Moving forward felt like wading through tar. A few meters took what felt like a minute.

Is this real? Or a dream?

Before I could decide, a detached announcer’s voice cut through:

『The Kikuka Shō—to decide this generation’s strongest horse girl—begins now.』

No clang of gates opening. No practiced leap into motion. Just... silence. By the time I realized, the gates were wide open. A fatal delay. Yet no one moved. Every single horse girl—Seiun Sky (or a shadow in her uniform, face blurred), Special Week, King Halo—stood rigid, shrouded in black mist.

This is wrong. Even I knew that. This can’t be real. Horse girls don’t freeze on a G1 stage. This has to be a dream. But my body didn’t rebel. My mind screamed, yet something else held the reins. I was a passenger.

The "race" began in slow motion. Cheers twisted into screams. My body floated forward, Apollo Rainbow’s signature runaway lead unfolding in grotesque parody.

Gate 2, No. 4: Seiun Sky (3rd favorite)

Gate 3, No. 5: Apollo Rainbow (2nd favorite)

Gate 5, No. 9: King Halo (4th favorite)

Gate 8, No. 17: Special Week (1st favorite)

A shoe flew past my vision. A red-ribboned earring tore free. Whose were those? Doesn’t matter. My body churned forward, limbs unseen, my proud silver mane and lashes nowhere in sight.

Ah. I get it now. I was floating. How funny. How liberating. Because this had to be a dream.

But—was I even running? The world stayed sluggish. The screams never stopped. Maybe I was doing fine...?

...Wait. Near the start, at Yodo Hill—a fallen shoe. White and black. High heels? And that red ribbon again. And... huh? Someone’s collapsed. Crimson racing uniform. Hilarious. Ahaha. ...Why am I laughing? This is serious. A fall at the start is a disaster—

"　　　"

Oh. So that’s it. She fell right out the gate. But for her shoe and ribbon to scatter like that... The start isn’t that violent. And... was there even a girl in red here? Something’s off.

Time blurred—a minute? An hour?—as "Apollo Rainbow" pushed a murderous pace toward Yodo Hill in the latter half. Black mist thickened, but it didn’t matter. I’d crush them at record speed.

『Apollo Rainbow’s condition is unstable! This is a breakdown. A breakdown has occurred!"]

Just as I was about to take on the uphill slope at the third corner, my footing gave way. I heard a sharp crack—like something inside me had snapped. The black haze thickened. That sickening darkness that always signaled the onset of the “Zone.” My vision jumped several times. Oh—I—I’m hopping on one foot. That’s what I realized.

The shock traveling up from my heel made my eyes rattle in their sockets. The world, which had been moving in slow motion, suddenly picked up speed again, and the rush of wind slammed into my forehead. That familiar sense of acceleration pushed me forward, sending me lurching violently ahead.

In a flash, I lost my balance. My vision spun. The rainbow-colored ribbon—wasn’t I wearing one?—flew off, and my shoe flew off with it. I heard the splash of water.

“…?”

When the spinning stopped, I couldn’t move properly anymore. I couldn’t even lift my head—only my eyes moved, glancing around to get a sense of my surroundings. But I couldn’t see a thing. Everything was red. No—black? Blue? It sparkled, reflecting light… a puddle? What was I looking at?

It was only in that puddle’s reflection that I saw my legs. My arms. Ah… which way is up? What is this? Who did this? I never asked for any of it. This isn’t fun. Not even a little.

『Gate entry for number ■ frame ■■■■■■■ now complete.』

When I came to, I was standing in front of the gate again.

『And now, the Kikuka-sho—where the strongest filly of the generation will be decided—is underway.』

I had to run again. That thought pushed me into an automatic start—and right then, I finally saw it. I saw myself—collapsed on the slope at Kyoto.

“――――Nooooooooo!!”

I kicked straight through the center of that darkness smothering my vision, and in the next instant, the world turned upside-down. Or rather… it changed completely. I was in the trainer’s room.

My body trembled uncontrollably. Hugging myself tightly, I placed a hand over my chest.

“…A dream?”

A dream. In other words, a delusion. Everything I’d just seen had been a lie. It didn’t take long to piece it together—comparing what I’d seen to my own actions and my current reality. But still, what a revolting dream. Of all things, a dream about me getting injured at the Kikuka-sho.

Dreams are supposed to be incomprehensible. So why the hell did my brain feed me something this miserable…? And a week before the Kikuka-sho, of all times. For a meaningless hallucination, born from chemical reactions and electrical signals in the brain, it sure felt far too real.

“…Ugh.”

I pressed a hand to my head and sat there in thought, not wanting the dream to fade just yet.

Was that dream… a warning? A sign that my body was nearing its limit? Was that broken version of me the future result of reaching what Agnes Tachyon calls “the unknown domain of a filly”?

In other words, a “premonition”—an expression of my unconscious fear. Damn it—

But I couldn’t just laugh it off as nonsense. I was scared. My flimsy confidence and lack of objectivity only made the dream’s message more terrifying.

My breathing turned ragged. It felt like my chest was being crushed, and I collapsed onto the sofa. Agnes Tachyon’s words, relayed through my trainer, echoed in my mind: “Apollo Rainbow might break at the Kikuka-sho.” That possibility had felt distant—until now. But that nightmare had made it real. Its shadow clung to my heart and refused to let go.

“Ugh… I’m scared… I’m so scared…”

I wrapped myself in a blanket, trembling until my trainer came back.

About five minutes later, he finally returned. I’d calmed down a little by then.

“I’m back—…whoa, what happened, Apollo?”

“Come here.”

“Huh?”

I grabbed Tomio’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

You’ve probably heard the saying before: A filly runs while carrying the hopes of the people. Those words mean many things. But there are countless real cases where strong feelings led to so-called miracles. Tokai Teio’s comeback. Mejiro McQueen’s full recovery.

…That’s why I decided to believe. To believe in the strength of Tomio Momozawa’s hope—and in Apollo Rainbow, the one he believes in.

“The coffee’s gone a little cold. Sorry.”

“Ah—thanks!”

That nightmare was the absolute worst. But I’m not someone who lets the world toss her around forever. So, fate—what, are you that afraid of me stepping into the unknown? Give me a break. The unknown domain isn’t nearly enough to deny Apollo Rainbow’s one and only dream. I’ll forge my own path.

My fuel is the trust of my trainer—and maybe a bit of rage. If I want to surpass the unknown, I’ll have to let myself go a little mad with conviction and drag out a miracle with sheer will.

I took my trainer’s hand, and pressed my cheek against it, hard—again and again.