Passing through the first and second turns, Kitasan Black’s perceptions were completely different compared to her first experience navigating the third and fourth corners.
Last time around, despite Yasui Makoto’s meticulous pre-race analysis and repeated dress rehearsals, that suffocating tension had nearly overwhelmed her.
Surrounded on all sides by rivals whose rhythms chaotically overlapped, she had felt trapped in quicksand, every step a struggle against invisible restraints.
In fleeting moments, she had even noticed her breathing becoming rapid and disordered, her limbs constrained and unable to fully extend.
It had felt like being trapped within an invisible cage, obstacles pressing in from every direction, with no clear path to break free.
Her nerves had been stretched tight, like piano wire on the verge of snapping at the slightest touch.
But now—after seizing the perfect moment to break out and claim the lead—it felt as if she’d leaped from a dark abyss straight into a sunlit sky.
Her limbs stretched freely, each stride landing with the familiar surge of rhythm and strength.
The track beneath her feet felt like a subdued dragon, letting her gallop unrestrained across its mighty back.
The wind howled toward her face, but to her ears, it was the sound of cheering crowds.
What little fatigue she had dissipated like mist carried away by the breeze, leaving only exhilaration in its wake.
Her breathing was long and steady, her heart beating powerfully, each deep inhalation pulling oxygen into her lungs, fueling her heart, and pumping endless energy throughout her body.
Her vision was clear and boundless, the path ahead completely unobstructed.
For one fleeting instant, even though she knew she had only returned to the opposite straight, she had the illusion of seeing the finish line already within reach.
But the moment that thought appeared, she snapped herself back to attention.
The body remembers. Yasui Makoto had repeated this countless times.
In the past, she’d frequently trained over distances as long as 3000 meters.
Yet, nothing compared to the intensity felt in an actual race.
In any other race—out of the gate, around two corners, down a straight, around two more corners—she really would see the finish line at this point.
But this race…was the Kikuka Sho.
Even after returning to the starting point, completing a full circuit around the track, there would still be a full 1000 meters remaining to run.
This is…the Kikuka Sho.
The stage…where the strongest of a generation is decided.
Victory…would never be settled this early!
Alerted by her inner alarms, Kitasan Black instantly took a deep breath, swiftly recalibrating her mindset.
Simultaneously, through the corner of her eyes, her flattened ears, and every sense on her body, she strained to perceive the situation behind her.
On the outside…someone’s starting to move.
Directly behind me…still fighting, about five or six.
Then behind that…the front of the Pace Chaser pack—Real Steel, isn’t it?
Further back…probably Satono Rasen.
They’re all advancing their positions. And…
That last classmate…still hasn’t overcome the lost distance from the delayed start?
Recognizing that now was definitely not the time to relax, Kitasan Black rapidly organized the positions and movements of her rivals.
In just a second or two, the entire race situation crystallized clearly in her mind.
She began making her adjustments.
Breathing came first. She narrowed her eyes, cast aside all distractions, and focused solely on inhaling and exhaling.
When inhaling, she took in the air as if absorbing the atmosphere of the entire world, her abdomen expanding slightly.
When exhaling, she pushed out all impurities, as if discarding every last shred of pressure and burden.
Each breath was deep, steady, and rhythmic like the ticking of an ancient clock, continuously fueling her body with boundless energy.
As she regulated her breathing, her posture subtly shifted.
Her torso leaned slightly further forward, her back muscles tightening gently.
From her upper body to her lower limbs, a powerful yet elegant arc formed, supporting each explosive stride.
She lifted her head just a fraction, eyes locked firmly ahead as though piercing through the distance to fix the finish line firmly in sight.
Then came the most crucial adjustment—her stride.
Gradually, she began increasing her stride length, each step meticulously measuring the track.
Her front leg rose high, tracing a graceful arc through the air, before descending sharply, meeting the ground with a firm, resonant strike.
Her rear leg immediately followed, pushing off hard and propelling her forward.
With every touch of her feet to the earth, she felt the ground pushing back, sending her surging ahead like a powerful wave.
Breathing, posture, and stride—all seamlessly harmonized, bringing Kitasan Black into the perfect state for the long-distance sprint.
In the stands, spectators’ eyes locked onto the Umamusume charging down the track, while the announcer’s voice echoed across the racecourse.
“EVERYONE! THE PACK IS NOW EXITING THE TURN ONTO THE OPPOSITE STRAIGHT. POSITIONS ARE STABILIZING—LET’S CONFIRM THE ORDER!”
“STILL LEADING THE FIELD IS KITASAN BLACK, BEAUTIFULLY MAINTAINING HER BREAKTHROUGH TO SET THE PACE FOR THE ENTIRE RACE.”
“CLOSELY TRAILING BEHIND IS NUMBER 8, MUSEE ALIEN, TWO AND A HALF LENGTHS BACK. SHE’S PUSHING FORWARD DETERMINEDLY, CLEARLY INTENT ON RECREATING THEIR THRILLING DUEL FROM THE ST. LITE KINEN.”
“THE EARLY FRONT-RUNNERS, SPIRITS MINORU AND RED SOLOMON, NOW HOLD THIRD AND FOURTH.”
“TAGANO ESPRESSO IS HOT ON THEIR HEELS.”
“A LENGTH AND A HALF BACK IS LIA FAIL.”
“THE BATTLE AMONG THE FRONT RUNNERS REMAINS FIERCE, THE RACE STILL TENSE AND UNCERTAIN!”
The announcer rapidly and meticulously outlined the situation, intensifying the excitement among the watching crowd.
“NUMBER 9, ALBERT DOCK, IS STARTING TO MOVE ON THE OUTSIDE, SEEMINGLY PREPARING FOR ACTION—”
“BUT ALBERT DOCK ISN’T ADVANCING JUST YET. BEHIND HER IS REAL STEEL, THE SECOND FAVORITE, CURRENTLY TWO AND A HALF LENGTHS BEHIND THE FRONT PACK, STEADILY PUSHING FORWARD.”
“ANOTHER TWO LENGTHS BEHIND HER IS FESTIVE SONG, NOW GRADUALLY CLIMBING FROM THE MIDFIELD.”
“SATONO RASEN, THE THIRD FAVORITE, HASN’T MADE HER MOVE YET—PERHAPS WAITING FOR THE OPTIMAL MOMENT.”
“NUMBER 5, BERUF, IS ALSO TRYING TO ADVANCE, AND LASTLY, NUMBER 7, STIEGLITZ, CONTINUES FIGHTING HARD TO RECOVER FROM HER DELAYED START—HER PERSEVERANCE IS TRULY MOVING!”
The announcer’s voice swelled with emotion, prompting applause from spectators, cheering on Stieglitz’s tenacity.
“THE SECOND UPHILL STRETCH IS COMING!”
Suddenly, excitement surged in the announcer’s voice:
“KITASAN BLACK MAKES THE FIRST MOVE, CLEARLY ACCELERATING! IS SHE AIMING TO OPEN A DECISIVE GAP?”
“NUMBER 14, MASSABIELLE, ALSO BEGINS TO ADVANCE! NUMBER 13, MASAHAYA DREAM, IS PUSHING FORWARD! NUMBER 15, JUN TSUBASA, REFUSES TO BE LEFT BEHIND! POSITIONS ACROSS THE ENTIRE PACK…”
“…ARE NOW CHANGING BY THE SECOND!”
Under the announcer’s increasingly impassioned commentary, sunlight spilled generously onto the track, transforming the eighteen charging Umamusume into swift bolts of lightning, illuminating their unstoppable momentum toward the second incline.
—
T/N: UGUIFUAH SO MANY HORSES
This is a fan translation of 赛马娘：从被撞飞十米开始 by 百升飞上天 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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