“OGURI CAP OR TAMAMO CROSS?!”
“THE ARIMA KINEN—WHO WILL BE THIS YEAR’S BEST?!”
“THE GRAY MONSTER, OR WHITE LIGHTNING?!”
Tokyo’s streets were plastered with Arima Kinen promo posters.
As the year’s grandest spectacle, it was only natural that the two who had set the Japan Cup ablaze not long ago were featured most prominently in the campaign.
“Feels like this doesn’t really have much to do with us anymore, huh?”
At Tracen Academy, a shapely bay Umamusume looked up at the poster on the wall and murmured to herself.
“Heh. If you’re jealous, then just beat both of them in the Arima Kinen, Creek.”
Beside her, a sharp-eyed chestnut Umamusume in a yellow hoodie said it flatly.
“Oh my, Dicta. It isn’t jealousy.”
Super Creek covered her mouth and laughed.
“I just think it’d be nice to race on the same stage as both of them~”
“Hmph.”
Dicta Striker curled her lip.
“Your eyes don’t look half as gentle as your smile.”
“Do they not~~”
Super Creek replied in the same light, lilting tone, smiling all the while.
Around them, the other girls from Central whispered and pointed.
“Hey, isn’t that Super Creek, the winner of the Kikuka Sho? Wow… she’s gorgeous!”
“And the one next to her is—! Dicta Striker! She won the Mile Championship not long ago!”
“I remember her! She won the Hanshin 3-Year-Old Stakes last year too!”
“Wow… a two-time G1 winner…”
“I heard both of them are running in the Arima Kinen too! Think they can beat Tamamo Cross and Oguri Cap…?”
“I doubt it. They both look strong, sure, but in the Japan Cup, Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross were basically on a whole different level.”
“Seriously…”
Hearing people talk about them like that left both Dicta Striker and Super Creek with mixed feelings.
You could call it praise. Well… technically, it was praise.
But how happy did it make them?
Not very.
Without even realizing it, everyone had already placed them beneath Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross.
That really didn’t sit right.
The two exchanged a glance and understood exactly what the other meant.
The Arima Kinen…!
We’ll prove there that we’re stronger than those two!
…
In Tracen Academy’s somewhat bare clubroom, only the flickering light of the television illuminated Tamamo Cross’s taut, focused profile.
On the screen, the final straight of the Japan Cup replayed again and again—that heart-stopping sprint to the finish.
The two gray figures, running nearly side by side, looked like twin bolts of white lightning tearing across the course, leaving every other opponent far behind.
Tamamo Cross’s eyes stayed fixed on the figure half a step ahead—the one that was her own, White Lightning’s.
The image froze on Oguri Cap’s profile at the instant she crossed the line: stern, focused, possessed by a pure, stubborn fixation on victory.
Tamamo Cross slowly closed her eyes.
The only sounds left in the clubroom were the faint whir of the tape and her own heartbeat, so loud it almost seemed audible.
That margin—less than a head—swelled endlessly in the darkness behind her closed eyes, becoming a scorching, almost tangible weight of regret and frustration pressing hard against her chest.
Just a little.
Just that little.
In the silence, even her breathing became distinct.
When she opened her eyes again, the wavering from before was gone. In those eyes, sharp as ever, only a tempered chill and iron resolve remained.
She reached out and switched off the television.
The instant the screen went dark, the room fell back into shadow, with only the daylight from outside outlining her straight-backed silhouette.
This time… the Arima Kinen.
I won’t make the same mistake again.
The silence after the television went dark did not last long. Tamamo Cross’s thoughts had already drifted elsewhere—to Nishikino Academy, the place she now regarded as home.
Nishikino Academy was doing very well now.
That was thanks to Sakuraba Ryo.
Back at the Japan Cup, she had sworn she would bring the trophy back for him to see.
But in the end, what she brought back to Tokyo was not a gleaming golden trophy, but the bitterness of falling just short—and a promise she had failed to keep.
He had said nothing afterward. Even when she returned, he treated her exactly as he always had. But that unfulfilled promise remained like a tiny thorn lodged deep in her pride.
This time, at the Arima Kinen, she had made him another promise.
Maybe not as directly as the last one, but the meaning had been clear enough.
Tamamo Cross turned to face the window.
Tokyo’s winter sky stretched wide and high, just like the Arima Kinen course waiting for her.
She drew in a deep breath. The cold air filled her lungs, but only made the resolve burning in her chest blaze hotter.
She would never allow herself to break a promise like that a second time.
“This time…” she murmured, her voice clear and steady in the empty room, as though meant for someone far away—and even more for herself. “I’ll bring the victory back.”
At the Arima Kinen, she had to win.
…
In the stately, faintly solemn student council office at Tracen Academy, Symboli Rudolf set down the latest tally from the Arima Kinen fan poll.
The slanting afternoon sunlight streamed through the broad glass windows, drawing a sharp line of light and shadow across her uniform.
Her gaze fell to the name at the very top of the sheet—Oguri Cap.
The number beside it towered over second place by such a margin it was practically a cliff, leaving even the equally celebrated Tamamo Cross far behind.
“What astonishing popularity…”
Symboli Rudolf murmured softly, her fingertips brushing over that name on the page.
There was little emotion in her tone. It sounded more like an objective observation, touched by only the faintest trace of a sigh.
This was not merely a difference in vote totals. It was more like a concentrated expression of public sentiment and expectation.
From her stunning appearance in the Japanese Derby to her historic showdown with Tamamo Cross in the Japan Cup, Oguri Cap had already come to represent more than just a powerful Umamusume. In a sense, she had become a symbol of challengers—and of possibility itself—in this era.
She had come from the Regional Circuit, driven by a pure desire to run, and broken into Central with unstoppable force. Every step she took had fallen outside everyone’s expectations, and yet, impossibly, she just kept winning.
A rise that shattered convention like that was bound to capture an enormous amount of attention and support.
Symboli Rudolf leaned back slightly in her chair and looked out the window.
In the distance, on the training grounds, the figures of Umamusume could be faintly seen running hard.
As student council president, and as the Emperor who had once stood at the pinnacle, she understood better than anyone the weight that kind of popularity carried—and the immense pressure that came with it.
“Arima Kinen…”
She softly repeated the name of the year-end spectacle.
A huge vote count was both glory and a shackle.
Everyone’s eyes would be fixed on that most anticipated figure. Every breath, every stride, would be magnified and scrutinized.
Was the Gray Monster truly ready to bear the scorching heat of all that attention… and the fighting spirit it would stir even more fiercely in her rivals?
But Symboli Rudolf did not dwell on that concern for long.
Oguri Cap had Sakuraba Ryo by her side, after all.
When it came to keeping her head in the right place, that investor should be able to help Oguri Cap. There probably would not be any major problem there.
If anything, the side with problems was her own.
Symboli Rudolf closed the folder and let out a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible.
Her thoughts on Oguri Cap’s popularity had already passed. What now lingered in her heart was a different kind of pressure—more practical, and far more immediate.
Over this recent stretch of time, she had noticed the shift in opinion both inside the academy and beyond it.
Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross—the two hottest names right now, the two Umamusume who all but represented the highest level of this year—had, in public interviews and post-race remarks alike, openly mentioned and thanked the Regional Academies they came from.
Tamamo Cross in particular: both the title White Lightning and the strength she now displayed were being directly linked to Nishikino’s training.
By shifting the spotlight away from the center, remarks like those subtly shook Tracen Academy’s longstanding image as the absolute authority and ultimate stage.
Whispers had already begun to spread.
Had Central’s teaching model grown rigid?
Did the Regional Academies have more distinctive, more effective training methods?
Otherwise, why were none of the brightest new stars coming out of Central?
The doubts had not yet risen into a roaring wave, but they were already moving like an undercurrent.
If Super Creek had not won the Kikuka Sho as a Central Umamusume—claiming the crown with elegance and strength, and salvaging some pride for Central at just the right moment—then the questioning would likely have become even sharper and more public.
As student council president, Symboli Rudolf knew perfectly well that doubts cast on the academy’s standard of instruction were far more troublesome than the outcome of any single race, and far more capable of shaking the school’s foundations.
Just as a shadow of gravity settled over her expression, a cup of fragrant hot coffee was gently placed beside her hand.
“Rudolf, take a little break.”
Maruzensky’s warm voice sounded at her side.
At some point, she had slipped into the office, wearing the same soothing smile that always seemed to put people at ease.
“Public opinion is like the Tokyo wind. One moment it blows east, the next west.”
“But the academy’s true strength and depth won’t change because of a few rumors.”
She paused, looking out at the runners beyond the window as well, calm certainty in her voice.
“And besides, the Arima Kinen is right in front of us, isn’t it? It’s the best stage there is—the place where everyone can see with their own eyes that our Central Umamusume possess light and strength that lose to no one.”
Symboli Rudolf picked up the warm cup of coffee. Its rich aroma helped dispel some of the heaviness in her chest.
She looked at Maruzensky. In the other girl’s eyes was trust in her companions, and unwavering confidence in the academy itself.
“You’re right.”
Symboli Rudolf gave a small nod, and her usual steadiness returned to her voice.
“There is no use dwelling on what people said before. What matters most—what has always mattered most—is what we show on the track next.”
She took a light sip of coffee, and her gaze grew sharp and far-reaching once more.
The Arima Kinen was not only the showdown that would decide the year’s champion. It might also become Tracen Academy’s best chance to answer every doubt directed at it.
“By the way, where’s C.B.? I haven’t seen her around lately…”
“C.B.?”
Maruzensky thought for a moment.
“I think she went to take a look around the Regional Circuit.”
T/N: mommy……… MOMMY CREEKKKKK OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH U MAKE ME SUPER WE-
heres dicta striker
MOMMY
This is a fan translation of 亏钱赛马娘，什么叫你真的赢比赛了？ by 路边杂鱼 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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