Uma Musume: To The Top!!

As the commentator's announcement fell, a brief dead silence descended beyond the finish line of Leopardstown Racecourse.

But only an instant later, the entire venue erupted with a terrifying roar of cheers like a mountain collapsing and a sea surging.

"Ooooooooohhhhhhh—!!!!"

No one knew how many spectators in the stands shot to their feet in overwhelming excitement.

Some screamed themselves hoarse. Some frantically pulled off their jackets and waved them wildly in the air.

But very soon, those chaotic waves of noise gathered into one uniform cry, as if they were about to overturn the sky itself.

"Mejiro McQueen!"

"Mejiro McQueen!!"

"Mejiro McQueen!!!"

This was not merely because of a victory in the Irish Champion Stakes.

The European spectators worshiped the strong.

When absolute strength was laid bare before their eyes, the process no longer mattered.

After she had successively defeated the old king, Generous, and France's current strongest, Triptych, in overwhelming fashion—

This thunderous cheer that pierced the clouds was a coronation for the birth of the undisputed new king of the European circuit, the strongest active ruler of the present era!

"Tap, tap, tap—"

Only several seconds after McQueen and Triptych crossed the line did the remaining Umamusume finally drag their heavy steps over the finish line.

The instant they crossed, these girls, who were usually so proud and high-spirited, all had their legs go weak.

Almost without any dignity left, they collapsed onto the grass.

Every one of them was drenched in sweat, panting like oxen.

They were so drained that they could barely lift a finger.

During the final 800 meters, the twelve of them had not only needed to chase, compete, and sprint against one another with everything they had.

They had also needed to resist the terrifyingly oppressive aura released by the two monsters ahead in the latter half.

That power was stronger than any [Demonic Power]. Simply resisting it had almost exhausted all of their stamina.

As a result, their rankings…

One Umamusume gasped for air. Supporting herself on her knees, she barely lifted her sweat-soaked eyelids and looked toward the giant electronic scoreboard on the racecourse.

First: Mejiro McQueen!

Second: Triptych. Margin: two and a quarter lengths!

Third: Elmaamul.

Margin…

A wide gap!

"What was even the point of us running…?"

Looking at the ranking, that Umamusume could not help giving a bitter smile. Finally, she stopped trying to support herself and simply lay flat on the grass.

…

At that moment, at the very front beyond the finish line—

At the center where all sunlight, cheers, and hope had gathered together—

An elegant figure in white, with violet hair, stood there quietly.

"Hah… haah…"

Along with her slightly heavy breathing, her mane, shining with a sacred glow, swayed gently with each breath.

But she did not wipe it away. She merely raised her head in a daze and looked around at the vast crowd of hundreds of thousands in every direction.

Half a year of leaving home and enduring a difficult expedition.

All the sweat she had shed in hellish training had finally received its most dazzling reward at this moment.

Everyone in the entire racecourse was now frantically shouting the same name.

Her name!

This feeling was completely different from when she had been at Central Tracen.

Back then, she had only felt as though she had reached the summit of Central, the summit of that small island.

But now…

McQueen lowered her head slightly and looked at her wrist.

Then she clenched her hand tight and raised it high into the air!

As if she had firmly grasped the glory of the entire world in the palm of her hand!

"Ooooooooohhhhhhh—!!!!"

With the winner's response, like a declaration of sovereignty, the atmosphere inside the venue was instantly pushed to a boiling peak.

That ocean-like passion gathered from all directions into a single point, all of it converging on the ruler from the Far East.

…

"…Haaah…"

On the track not far behind McQueen, Triptych was kneeling on one knee in the grass, mouth open, panting violently like a fish starved of oxygen.

At that moment, she felt as if every muscle in her body was screaming in pain.

Only after several full seconds did she finally manage to raise her head and look ahead.

There, on the throne she had once yearned for so intensely, the position she had been willing to bet everything to seize, another person now stood.

But not even the slightest trace of jealousy appeared in her eyes.

Because the Umamusume standing there was a true powerhouse who had shattered her completely, head-on and fair.

At that moment, all that filled Triptych's heart was deep respect, fierce unwillingness, and…

Triptych turned her head blankly and looked toward one section of the stands.

There, the old woman she thought of day and night, the one who had pulled her out of the mud, was now standing by the railing with her cane, staring fixedly at her.

"Ah… ah…"

The dark-skinned girl opened her mouth several times, wanting to shout something, but in the end, she pressed her lips tightly together with bitter unwillingness.

The guilt and sadness of having failed someone's expectations suddenly surged from the deepest part of her heart.

In an instant, it flooded every part of her body like a broken dam.

"Trip…"

In the stands, the wrinkled old woman saw Triptych's proud head suddenly droop, and she immediately understood something.

Her body began trembling violently, wishing she could cross the railing in front of her right then and return to Triptych's side.

"Hah."

Triptych's hands pressed into the grass.

Drops of liquid, whether sweat or tears, slid continuously down her cheeks and struck the dirt.

"I… I'm sorry…"

The tearful murmur echoed low by her own ears.

At that moment, Triptych's shoulders shook violently, and there was no trace left of her usual cheerful, optimistic self.

Only sorrow and self-blame, so thick they could not be dissolved, remained.

"Tap!"

Just then, a pair of racing shoes stained with a little mud suddenly stopped in front of her.

Triptych's tear-blurred gaze slowly lifted and met the violet-haired girl's gentle eyes, which carried a faint smile.

In those clear pupils—

Reflected there was her own image, kneeling on the ground, filthy and utterly miserable.

But before Triptych could let her thoughts spiral—

McQueen suddenly sat down as well. Then she pulled Triptych backward with her and propped herself up with both arms, half-sitting on the ground.

McQueen raised her head, looked at the cloudless blue sky, and suddenly smiled.

"May I call you Trip?"

Triptych froze. After a moment of silence, she forced down the strange rasp in her voice caused by crying before replying in a low voice.

"Did you come to mock me? Haha… You certainly earned the right. You won."

McQueen turned her head and glanced at her.

Then she suddenly reached out, grabbed Triptych's hand, and held it tightly.

It was not the soft touch Triptych had expected, but something wet and rough, gritty with particles of dirt.

McQueen's hand was covered in sweat smeared from the intense exertion. Just from that handshake, not only her hand, but even her pure-white racing outfit was now stained with ugly patches of mud.

"You are the strongest opponent I have faced since my debut."

Suddenly, McQueen spoke softly.

"I have never had a moment like today, where even after giving everything I had, with my stamina nearly emptied, victory was still so difficult to see."

"You really are strong."

Hearing that, Triptych froze in place. The fingers being held twitched slightly.

Yet her heart strangely calmed down.

Only after a long while did she lower her head and reply in a low voice.

"But I still lost in the end…"

"You only lost one race. You didn't lose your whole life!"

McQueen tilted her head and smiled.

"After this race, we still have the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe next month."

"After the Arc, we can keep running next year. If we're lucky, perhaps we'll even see each other on the track again the year after that."

"Right now, this is only one small part of our journey."

After a pause, the violet-haired girl lightly extended a hand toward Triptych.

"At the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, let's race again, Trip."

"…"

Triptych stared blankly at the hand before her.

Then she looked at the opponent who had fought her to the death on the track only moments ago, yet now showed her such an open smile.

…

After a moment, her entire body suddenly relaxed.

She used her other hand to scratch her head messily and said in distress, "Ugh, this is so embarrassing! My opponent saw me crying on the ground, and then she even comforted me properly. I could die from shame!"

After mocking herself, the dark-skinned girl abruptly raised her head. At last, a bold smile that belonged to Triptych once again rose on her face.

Without the slightest hesitation, she reached out and clasped McQueen's hand tightly!

"Then you'd better wait for me, McQueen! At the Arc one month from now, I won't cry again!"

Looking at Triptych, who had finally regained her spirit, McQueen gave a soft laugh.

"All right. I'll be waiting."

After the two sat there for a little while longer, McQueen slowly stood and patted the dust from her body.

"All right. We should go clean ourselves up. We still have our Winning Live later."

After saying that, she turned her head and gestured to Triptych, then turned around first and headed toward the competitors' tunnel outside the track.

Triptych nodded.

Before leaving, she turned her head once more and looked toward the railing in the stands.

However, the old woman's figure had already disappeared.

Seeing that, even though McQueen's words had helped Triptych let go of much of the weight in her heart, she still could not help feeling a little disappointed.

With a soft sigh, Triptych braced both hands against the ground and slowly stood up.

"Hiss—"

The soreness in every muscle from overexertion made her involuntarily suck in a breath through her teeth.

And yet, she did not know whether it was an illusion.

At the instant she fully straightened her body, aside from the normal soreness caused by lactic acid buildup and muscle fatigue…

She vaguely felt a long-missed, familiar prickling pain deep in her right calf.

Was it an illusion?

"…Forget it. I probably just pushed too hard in that final burst. I should take a shower first. I still have to dance later."

After hesitating for a moment, Triptych did not take that small abnormality to heart.

She shook her head, cast aside the distracting thoughts in her mind, and quickly followed McQueen's back ahead of her.

(End of Chapter)

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