Uma Musume: Rising From the Countryside to Legend!!

A little over ten days ago, Fujimasa March and Inari One—who had just grasped the power of a [Domain]—were being taught by Kuroha on how to use it correctly.

"All the way, keep the [Domain] active?"

Inari One's eyes widened in shock, shaking her head and hands frantically:

"No, no, no way! The last time I activated that… uh, 'Passion Mode'? I could only sprint a few hundred meters before I was exhausted! If I kept it on the whole race, I'd drop dead!"

She still remembered when she first awakened the second stage of her [Domain]—Bonfire Fox Call. She had bolted around the track like a dumb fox, burning out before even one lap and nearly collapsing to sleep on the spot, her body turning into snow-white ash.

Fujimasa March, standing nearby, nodded in agreement.

"Even my True Self Mode can't stay active for long—at most, it lasts for about… 600 meters."

The girl thought for a moment before giving that conservative estimate.

Kuroha listened seriously to both of their analyses and nodded.

"Indeed, no matter which stage it is, the [Domain] greatly enhances a Uma Musume's physical attributes and racing ability."

"And naturally, that comes with heavy stamina drain."

After speaking, Kuroha paused, then tapped Fujimasa March lightly on the forehead with a smile.

"But what if you controlled the [Domain] so that it didn't boost your physical stats, and instead kept your mind sharp and calm?"

Fujimasa March's cheeks flushed as she raised a hand to touch the spot Kuroha had tapped, then replayed his words in her head.

After some thought, she shook her head—not because she couldn't picture it, but because it seemed far too difficult to achieve.

The [Domain] was an almost metaphysical power. For someone like her, who hadn't even been in True Blooming for a year and a half, there was simply no way to grasp such a concept yet.

Kuroha chuckled at her reaction and ruffled her cute gray mane.

"No need to overthink it. Whatever you can't do, I'll help you with."

The ash-gray girl nodded and rubbed her head affectionately into her trainer's warm palm, her ponytail swaying behind her.

Smoothing her mane, Kuroha continued:

"Control the [Domain]'s output."

"That way, you won't burn through so much stamina, and you'll improve your mastery over your own technique and your grasp of the race's overall situation."

"You'll keep your latent ability boosted for the whole race, while keeping your mind and rhythm unshaken by outside factors."

"Wow, amazing!" Inari One clapped excitedly, fully playing along.

"So, trainer, what's this skill called?"

"What's it called?"

Kuroha was momentarily stumped by her question. After thinking a moment, he decided to stick to the old naming scheme.

"Let's just keep calling it True Self Mode. Why change it?"

It's not like he could call it True Self Mode—Full Power…

Super Saiyan Horse?

Though, to be fair, some Uma Musume really did look like they were going Super Saiyan when they activated their [Domain]—looking at you, Oguri Cap.

"That name still sounds lame."

"Oh, lame, lame, that's all you ever say!" Kuroha bonked Inari One's head twice with his fist.

"It's staying as is!"

This was the same state Fujimasa March had used before, except without the [Domain]'s stat boosts.

But now, she no longer held herself back. She took a single step forward—and once again entered the supreme realm that had been reached by the racehorses who shaped history!

"Not that it's necessary… but, Seiran Nichirin, I'll give you my all!"

Analyzing her previous True Self Mode performance, even Seiran Nichirin's second burst wouldn't be able to match her pace.

Two lengths—that would be her limit!

However, out of respect for her rival, Fujimasa March chose to respond with her strongest form!

Vmmm—!

In that instant, blazing silver-white tracers lit up her eyes, as though stars were burning in them.

A force far greater than before erupted from her body, and she accelerated again at an impossible speed!

A Front Runner—executing a second burst in the final phase of the race!

And in Seiran Nichirin's gaze, filled with despair and disbelief, the gap between them—already like an uncrossable chasm—suddenly widened!

"She… she's accelerating! Under Seiran Nichirin's pressure, Fujimasa March has accelerated again! Incredible! Unmatched! The gap between them is growing wider!"

"Seiran Nichirin can't catch up!"

The commentator's voice boomed with passion, echoed by the roaring cheers from the stands.

"How… how is this possible?!"

Seiran Nichirin stared at the figure ahead, the one whose final spurt had suddenly eclipsed her own. Her pupils widened sharply.

She had already given it her all…

Already wrung out every last drop of strength… and still… she couldn't catch up?

In the darkness of her mind, the silver-white silhouette she had nearly touched suddenly surged forward, wreathed in storms, merging with the figure flying toward the finish line.

Pata—!

With her long, graceful stride, Fujimasa March crossed the finish line first.

"Fujimasa March wins the Haneda Hai by an overwhelming six lengths!"

In the spotlight of the world, the girl stood tall at the finish line, right hand clenched and raised high!

"OOOOOOOOHHHH—!!!"

The Ōi Racecourse erupted in deafening cheers once again!

"Haa… haa…"

On the track, the commentator's voice echoed on, but Seiran Nichirin could no longer hear it.

Her lungs burned like fire as she clutched her knees, gasping for breath. Her trembling legs could barely hold her; it seemed like she might collapse at any moment.

She had truly spent every ounce of strength, draining herself completely.

The world of Uma Musume was beautiful—but also cruel.

Victory was the eternal theme.

Suddenly, her vision blurred, and a hand reached out toward her.

Her sweat-matted hair stuck to her cheek as she looked up in surprise—only to see Fujimasa March standing before her, offering her hand.

"Go again?"

"…Of course."

Seiran Nichirin was silent for a beat, then her cool expression curved into a fierce grin as she grasped Fujimasa March's hand and forced herself upright.

"You alright?"

Seeing that Seiran Nichirin was only exhausted and hadn't suffered any real injury, Fujimasa March let out a small sigh of relief. On the track, they might be rivals—but off it, they were still classmates and friends.

Seiran Nichirin glanced at the ash-gray mare before her, whose chest barely rose and fell, then compared it to her own ragged, unending gasps. She couldn't help but smile wryly.

"I'll live. But you—pulling off a second acceleration as a Front Runner and still looking fresh? You really are a monster."

Monster?

Hearing those words, Fujimasa March thought back to her trainer's earlier conversation and couldn't help but laugh.

She never thought she'd live to be called a monster.

"Just got lucky." She smiled happily at the thought that crossed her mind.

"Need a hand?"

"…I'd like to say no, but I've really got nothing left."

The two Uma Musume looked at each other, then chuckled softly, supporting each other as they walked toward the paddock tunnel.

(End of Chapter)

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