Chapter 94: Encounter! Dubai Meeting! Part 2

Dubai is hot. Unbearably hot. In the summer, temperatures soar past 50°C (122°F), which is why the Dubai Twinkle Series is held during the winter months, from around November to March. And at the tail end of that racing season comes the Dubai Meeting.

Now, as the third race at Meydan, the G2 Dubai Gold Cup was about to begin.

---

I made my way toward the paddock through the staff passageway, adjusting the hem of my track jacket and smoothing out the wrinkles in my number bib. With the race being broadcast worldwide, I wanted to present a flawless version of myself. More than anything, I couldn’t afford to embarrass myself—not when my rivals back in Japan had sent me off with their hopes riding on me.

I honed my fighting spirit, burning so fiercely it felt like steam might rise from my body. Gripping the sleeve of the trainer walking beside me, I took deep breath after deep breath. This nervousness—it had been a while. Unlike the familiar tracks of Japan, everything here was different—the spectators, the turf, even my opponents. The weight of being Japan’s Horse Girl of the Year, the pressure of expectations—it all bore down on me so heavily it threatened to crush my spirit.

"Apollo, you okay?"

"...No, not really. I'm all stiff and jittery. I can barely walk straight."

My legs were already tangling up. Though no one had outright said it, maybe I was only now realizing just how daunting it was to be seen as "Japan's representative" on an overseas expedition.

The worth of all the rivals I’d fought tooth and nail against would be determined by how I ran today. In a single race. If I messed up, the world might underestimate my rivals’ strength. I hated that idea. Precisely because I knew firsthand how terrifying they were, I refused to let my failure drag their reputations down.

"Maybe it's just pre-race nerves making me weirdly sensitive."

"You're nervous."

"It's not something you just 'get used to.'"

Even though I should’ve been relaxed, my shoulders were tense. My muscles had locked up, already wasting energy I didn’t need to spend. Watching me like this, Tomio muttered, "Nerves can be good spice, but right now, Apollo, you're overdosed."

Nerves were a double-edged sword. The right amount could sharpen your performance, but too much would only hinder you. Then again, being too relaxed wasn’t ideal either—it was a delicate balance. Had I really misjudged my own control this badly?

That’s exactly why I needed to rely on my trainer. I had a partner I could count on—someone who knew me better than anyone, who understood the words I needed to hear even before I did.

Driven by desperation, I tugged on Tomio’s arm, forcing him to stop. He turned to face me. He already knew—what was happening, what I was about to ask. He always knew.

"...Tomio."

"I know."

"I want sweet words. The kind that’ll melt my nerves away. If you're my trainer, then charm me properly."

"That’s a pretty tall order, don’t you think?"

"I... I'm sorry."

"...Well, alright. Guess I’ll go the extra mile for my star Horse Girl."

Even I knew I was being unreasonable. But he was kind—so kind that he gently took my hand, still clutching his sleeve, and wrapped it in his larger palm.

"...I love watching you go all out, Apollo. Sure, it’s a little reckless, but the way you run—it’s enough to captivate the whole world. That’s what I believe."

"...Yeah."

"Run. Take the lead. And then charge straight for the finish line. Show Dubai’s fans exactly what a Horse Girl named Apollo Rainbow can do!"

"—Yeah!"

His unwavering gaze. Dark eyes that saw right through me, tinged with something almost sultry. The same eyes that sometimes lingered a little too long on my ears or tail.

His voice—low, steady, soothing.

The softness in his expression, the way it screamed just how much he cared.

All of it flooded into me, setting my fighting spirit ablaze. The nerves receded, replaced by a frenzy of passion so intense it bordered on madness.

My heart was burning with love. It had been so long since I’d felt this way. I was in peak condition—so much so that I slowly pulled his hand closer.

I nuzzled my cheek against his rough palms, deliberately narrowing my vision. Love-drunk, I stoked my hunger for victory. Sure, part of me just wanted to indulge in him, but this was a calculated move.

—Horse Girls run carrying the passions of the people. And among those "people," I was included. I was just following superstition. A tiny pang of guilt pricked at me, but... surely he felt the same way. Tomio didn’t seem to mind. So it had to be okay.

"—Thanks. I’m not tense anymore."

"Glad to hear it."

"Well then, it’s about time."

"Yeah."

"—I’m off!"

"...Go get 'em."

With a smooth motion, I slipped my hand free and dashed into the light.

The Dubai Gold Cup was about to begin.

---

Meydan Racecourse in Dubai was designed with an oval paddock between the stands and the track, unlike Japan’s venues where you had to leave the stands to see the horses. In other words, the track and paddock faced the same direction, allowing seamless viewing. It was a layout I wished Japan would adopt—no more fighting through crowds just to switch between the paddock and seats.

The moment I stepped out from the staff passageway, a faint stir rippled through the air, and my image flashed onto the massive turf screen by the homestretch. The paddock introductions had begun.

Cheers erupted from the stands, the excitement reaching a fever pitch. Fans were fully shifting into spectator mode, the venue’s energy skyrocketing. The giant screen’s broadcast only added to the hype.

『No. 1, Drill Isabel. Fifth favorite.』

『A Horse Girl from the United States, active primarily in America and Europe. Will her powerful front-running style dominate Meydan as well? She’s one to watch!』

Gathered in the oval paddock were 16 long-distance specialists from around the world. Most were Europe-based Horse Girls, so how the mid-pack pacing would unfold remained a mystery until the race began.

No. 1, Drill Isabel, would likely serve as the de facto pacemaker for the pack—assuming the others didn’t chase after me if I went for a bold lead.

Then, it was my turn. Past race footage played on the screen, showing my signature runaway tactics. The crowd buzzed louder at the sight.

A Horse Girl so ridiculous she’d charge ahead in a suicidal sprint—only to hold the lead all the way to the finish. A snow-white fairy in a wedding dress. Right now, I was just in a plain tracksuit, but inside? Nothing had changed. The same stubborn, single-minded runaway Horse Girl stood here.

『—No. 2, Apollo Rainbow. Second favorite.』

To fans and Horse Girls outside Japan, Apollo Rainbow was likely an enigma. A delicate-looking Horse Girl from a remote island nation, dominating race after race.

Unlike the European circuits where Kaiftara competed, Japan was still somewhat niche. Hence the second-favorite position. Given the turf and pace considerations, I could’ve easily been the top pick—but uncertainty lingered. I had the skill, but doubts remained. That’s why I was second.

『Japan’s reigning Horse Girl of the Year—a superstar who’s claimed three G1 titles with her unprecedented runaway tactics in ultra-long distances. An idol in her homeland, beloved by fans. Will her explosive, unpredictable running shine in Meydan? Let’s find out!』

I took off my jacket, revealing my perfectly honed form. My radiant limbs, my glossy dapple-gray coat. My ears twitched energetically, my tail swished briskly—by all appearances, I was in peak condition. There could be no excuses.

I waved to the crowd while casting glances toward my trainer, El-chan, and the others watching nearby.

Tomio gave me a firm nod; El-chan and Meek-chan silently raised their thumbs. Though I couldn’t quite hear her, Guriko was likely cheering "Do your best!"—even Suzuka-san watched over me quietly. The trainers wore solemn yet expectant expressions as they observed me.

Watch me win this. I swear I will. Silently making that vow, I retrieved my discarded jacket.

The paddock introductions continued. After Vintage Rainbow—whose name vaguely resembled mine—had her turn, the crowd at Meydan erupted as the race’s top contender made her appearance.

『No. 13, Kayf Tara. The favorite.』

『Here she is—last year’s European Champion Stayer! With her ideal outside post position for a closer, she’ll likely employ her signature late charge. Will the goddess of victory smile upon the so-called "Unsmiing Genius Stayer"? All eyes are on Europe’s quintessential running style!』

Kayf Tara, standing over 170 cm tall, emerged before the crowd, her sculpted calves and quadriceps on full display. Her lustrous bay coat testified to her flawless conditioning, drawing awed murmurs from the stands.

Yet no amount of cheers could crack her expression—her face remained stern, almost scowling. Her ears were pinned tightly back, her sharp eyes lidded, showing no intention of engaging with fans. Was this just her nature?

"…………"

With the paddock introductions complete, the long-awaited parade onto the track began. The Horse Girls, released from the oval paddock, surged forward as one, their hooves meeting Meydan’s turf.

I considered a light warm-up jog to acclimate myself—but when Kaiftara passed in front of me, I instinctively called out to her. She turned slowly, fixing me with an unmistakably weary gaze.

"It’s nice to meet you, Kayf Tara-san! I’m Apollo Rainbow! Looking forward to racing with you today!"

"...So you’re the one. The horse Lumos wouldn’t shut up about."

"That’s probably me!"

We faced each other near the homestretch’s outer edge. Though I’d intended this as a friendly gesture, Kayf Tara’s eyes burned with undisguised hostility, her barely restrained fury practically radiating off her.

Had I offended her somehow? A first impression this bad made cold sweat prickle down my back.

As I floundered for words, Kayf Tara’s lips curled into the faintest smirk—but the smile was pure venom.

"Hey, you. You’ve got a thing for Europe, right?"

"O-Oh, yes!"

"What’s your goal there? The King George? The Arc?"

"No, my dream isn’t the Arc... It’s to win the Gold Cup and Cadran, to become the strongest stayer!"

"...Huh. ‘Strongest stayer,’ huh."

"Yes! I’ll win the Stayers’ Million too!"

"—Pfft."

For a moment, I didn’t understand. Had she—laughed? The so-called "Unsmiling Genius Stayer"? But as the realization hit, her golden eyes remained utterly humorless.

"HAHAHA! AHAHAHAHA!"

Yet she was laughing. Whether it was my relentless listing of dreams or something else, Kayf Tara had completely lost it. Stunned, I could only stare. Her amber eyes darkened into something unreadable.

"God, you’re exactly the dumbass I heard you were! ‘Chasing dreams in Europe’—AHAHA! Hah—... Hah. ...Tch. Sorry, that was just too pathetic to not laugh at."

"......"

"People like you? I hate ’em the most. Spouting impossible dreams. ‘Strongest stayer’—give me a break."

—Snap.

Blood roared in my ears. My fighting spirit, already simmering, overflowed into outright rage, flooding my body with impossible strength.

She’d provoked me—said things no one needed to voice, even if she thought them. This wasn’t the Kaiftara I’d imagined. My dream is my trainer’s dream too. Mocking me is mocking him. I wanted to lunge at her—but instead, I dug my nails into my palms, forcing the fury down.

At the edge of my vision, Tomio watched me with concern. I wasn’t strong enough to shrug off this humiliation. Gritting my teeth, I bared my fangs—if only verbally.

"—Then, Kayf Tara-san, do you have no dreams?"

"Dreams? Sure. Get rich and live free."

"That’s not what I meant. Dreams as a Horse Girl on the turf."

She didn’t flinch. If anything, her mocking grin widened, her expression now tinged with something like pity—as if I were the delusional one for chasing my ambitions.

My dream was to become the strongest stayer. I’d won the Kikuka-shō, the Stayers Stakes, the Arima Kinen—proving myself unmatched in Japan’s long-distance scene. Wasn’t it natural, then, to seek the world stage next? To want "strongest in Japan" followed by "strongest in the world"? This relentless pursuit was what fueled me as a Horse Girl.

But Kayf Tara had mocked my dream. To do so right before our first race—how ridiculous. Honestly, if this weren't Meydan Racecourse's turf, I might have knocked her flat. The only reason I held back was because the whole world was watching—and because losing my temper wouldn't accomplish anything.

From Kaiftara's perspective, this might have been a strategy to rattle her top rival and secure an easy victory... Letting anger take control wouldn't be wise. Either way, one thing was clear—she wasn't the kind of Horse Girl I'd once admired.

"Seems like you've got the wrong idea. There's no 'hope' in the Twinkle Series... At least not in Europe's long-distance scene. It's just a boring place to make money now. The Stayers' Million doesn't have the glory you're imagining. None of it does."

"That can't be true!"

"Heh... Time's almost up. Well, glad I got to know you, ignorant little Apollo Rainbow."

"—Enough with the insults!"

"Oho, scary scary. Easy there, pony—fighting's only allowed on the turf, y'know?"

"......"

"...If it bothers you that much, try beating me in the Dubai Gold Cup."

"I plan to."

"Not handing over the Stayers' Million, though. That payout's too good."

"I'm not backing down either."

"But are you sure? About not chasing your dreams in Japan?"

"...Huh?"

"You chase dreams in Japan, I chase money in Europe. Fewer rivals for both of us—win-win, no?"

"...My dream isn't so cheap I'd abandon it just because you said so."

"Hmm? Coulda sworn you could still be the 'strongest stayer' without leaving Japan."

With that, Kayf Tara turned and began running across Meydan's turf, leaving me behind after saying whatever she pleased.

How satisfying it must have been for her—to tear down a Horse Girl like me. For me, it was nothing but an infuriating exchange. Glaring at her retreating back, I—

"—Huh?"

—saw her figure shrink unnaturally small. She's 173 cm tall. An optical illusion? Blinking repeatedly did nothing—her back remained hunched, worn down, almost melancholic.

The mocking, vulgar aura from earlier had vanished. Her ears drooped limply, twitching unevenly as if unsettled. At a glance, she still carried herself confidently, but her spirit was unmistakably withered.

"Kayf Tara...san?"

My anger forgotten, I stood frozen. What was that? That tiny, diminished presence—it wasn't that of a strong Horse Girl.

The hopeful stakes of King-chan, Satsuki-shō's Sei-chan, the Derby's Spe-chan, Arima Kinen's Grass-chan—they had all been towering. Their fighting spirit and aura alone had been overwhelming, their physiques seemingly massive. But Kayf Tara now... was small. Her body might be perfectly conditioned, but something crucial was missing in her heart.

Kayf Tara ran across Meydan. Cheers rained down on her back, yet she fled toward the far turn as if escaping them—utterly contrary to a Horse Girl's instincts.

No ambition, no drive. Yet despite lacking both, she was stronger than anyone here. Bitter, rude, twisted—but undeniably one of Europe's strongest. A complete inversion of everything I knew about "strength."

—Horse Girls run carrying the passions of the people. So what passions did Kayf Tara carry?

Suddenly, Lumos's words from the URA Awards ceremony resurfaced:

"Let me be blunt. Kayf Tara is a deeply cynical, unpleasant Horse Girl."

"She'll provoke you carelessly, say things that hurt—but even so. I want you to save her heart."

—Throb. A sharp pain shot through my temple. Save Kayf Tara's heart. Only now did I finally understand what that meant.

To redeem Kayf Tara—exhausted, devoid of dreams or purpose. That was surely what Lumos had wanted.

And beyond that... lay my own dream too—

"......"

But between Double Trigger's demeanor when we first met, Lumos's cryptic implications, and now Kayf Tara's warped state—what exactly was happening in Europe's Twinkle Series?

Had Europe's long-distance scene deteriorated so badly that it twisted even its greatest stayers? I knew it was in decline, but seeing the continent's top stayer in that state confirmed it was worse than imagined.

I couldn't speak to the full reality, but...

"...It's like chasing dreams in Europe itself is a mistake."

---

—The Dubai Gold Cup is about to begin.