Chapter 190: The Romance of the Front Runner
On the track, Kitasan Black was feeling the sensation of limit coursing through her entire body.
At this very moment, she felt like an engine that had been ignited—erupting with unprecedented power as she sprinted endlessly toward the front.
The howling airflow exploded beside her ears in continuous thunderous roars. She could clearly feel the rolling rush of air in her nose and mouth, tinged with the scent of grass.
Just as clearly, she felt the centrifugal force as she cut into the first corner—and the strange sense of detachment as that force flung the sweat from her cheeks, arms, and thighs.
Her breathing rhythm shifted in sync with her sprinting stride. She subtly adjusted her center of gravity, her left foot slicing toward the ground with a strange lateral sensation.
This was the secret Silence Suzuka had taught her for Burst Front Running through corners.
Don't imagine yourself as running.
Don't even think about yourself.
Speed—only speed.
Focus every thought on speed alone. With overwhelming velocity, with all her strength, eyes wide open, she stared at the leading scenery ahead.
At the instant her left foot cut into the turf, Suzuka-senpai's guidance echoed in her mind, along with the faint cries of muscle fibers screaming under overload.
Yet the muscles forged through countless days of relentless training faithfully poured their power into the ground.
With absolute clarity, she sensed it: after every solid push-off came a brief moment of emptiness.
The turf—along with its muddy base—was being blasted apart.
Hoo—hah…
Using the cornering technique, she deliberately lengthened her breathing rhythm.
This wasn't something Suzuka-senpai had taught her. It was the rhythm she had cultivated through her own training—the breathing method unique to long-distance racer.
During the Dream Trophy, she had been too absorbed in the brilliant performances of her senpai to notice these things.
But Makoto had noticed.
Not only noticed, during the training camp afterward, he had consistently trained her in this breathing rhythm.
The one who had done this during the Dream Trophy should have been Mejiro Bright-senpai. Unlike her, Bright had used centrifugal force to ease the burden on her stamina. Still, Kitasan felt as though she was experiencing what her senpai had felt back then.
Oxygen compressed into her chest with every breath, and her alveoli seemed to ignite with a burning sensation.
That heat instantly spread from her lungs throughout her body. At this point, her blood vessels no longer felt like they were carrying blood—they felt like channels flowing with molten fire.
Suddenly, the afternoon sunlight ahead shifted. Her pupils contracted slightly.
The second corner.
At Nakayama Racecourse's 2200 meters, the first two corners sit atop a rise after an uphill stretch. Soon after entering the second corner, the track tilts downward.
If it were the old her, she would have slowed down to pass the corner safely.
But in this race, she had chosen Burst Front Running.
She sharply increased the amplitude of her arm swing and switched her sprinting stride once more.
She could feel her ponytail pulled taut by the accelerating airflow, stretched straight back like the flaming tail of a meteor.
Now!
From within Kitasan Black body came the sound of something shattering. As the black haired Umamusume stomped into the ground at the moment of entry, the power in her core exploded throughout her entire body, and the sense of abundant stamina she'd felt since the start of the race dissolved in an instant.
The world in her vision changed abruptly.
She suddenly understood the words Suzuka-senpai had once spoken.
"Why do I like Burst Front Running… 'It suits me,' 'I want to run this way,' 'Running like this should help me win'—something vague like that, I suppose."
"But personally, I like another way of putting it even more…"
"Burst Front Running… is actually very romantic, Kita-chan."
Unconsciously widening her eyes, Kitasan Black saw the world itself seem to be swallowed by a frenzied vortex.
The guardrails along the side of the track turned into streaks of flying light, flashing past in her peripheral vision, blurring into an illusory haze.
In that same peripheral vision, the grandstands—once clearly visible—now looked as though a giant hand were dragging them violently backward. The spectators' faces, the waving banners and glow sticks, all dissolved into kaleidoscopic blocks of color, twisted and distorted by the extreme speed.
The autumn afternoon sunlight no longer fell gently upon her. Instead, it became piercing beams of light, slicing past her like blades and leaving dazzling afterimages scorched across her retinas.
The howling wind was no longer a form of resistance. It felt as though it were lifting her from below and pushing at her back, as if she were stepping on invisible stairways of air, climbing ever higher.
The burning in her lungs and blood vessels transformed into an exhilarating tremor—like the instant of leaping into a hot spring on a freezing winter day.
'Yes, Suzuka-senpai.'
'That romance…'
'I see it now.'
From the broadcast booth came the sharp clink of a cup—or something similar—being knocked over.
"Everyone! Do you see this?!"
The commentator's voice was yanked upward by some overwhelming force, instantly piercing through the already boiling roar of the stands.
"Kitasan Black—her lead— it's still growing!
"Nearly ten lengths! Almost ten lengths—!"
The voice trembled with barely contained excitement. Every word struck like a hammer blow. As Kitasan Black surged toward the far-side straight like a bolt of black lightning, the commentary grew ever more hoarse and desperate.
"Ten lengths!"
"A massive gap!"
"Kitasan Black has opened up a shocking ten-length lead!"
"She's so far ahead of the pack that she's practically untouchable!"
"Run! Fly! Fly toward the festival tide of countless eyes and thunderous cheers!"
The commentator's voice was rough with overexcitement, yet that only amplified its overwhelming impact.
The grandstands erupted like a roaring tsunami. Nearly all the spectators leapt to their feet, wildly waving flags, posters, and glow sticks until the stands became a vast ocean of cheering color.
Their faces were flushed with fanatic excitement as they shouted Kitasan Black's name. The unified chant rolled across the racecourse in relentless waves, as if it might swallow the entire stadium whole.
And yet, at the very front of the stands, Makoto's expression grew increasingly grave.
Gripping his binoculars tightly and staring at the black figure on the far straight, he said nothing. Beside him, Manchester Café wore a similar look as she spoke softly:
"She needs to slow down…"
Her voice was quiet, instantly drowned by the sea-like roar of the crowd, but Agnes Tachyon followed without missing a beat.
"She really does need to adjust her pace."
In stark contrast to her earlier frenzy, Agnes Tachyon's gaze was now cool and composed.
"Even if the others didn't react at first, ten lengths… that's her limit."
"This is probably the most stamina she's ever burned in the opening half of a race. If she doesn't rein it in now, the final straight… she'll likely decelerate hard."
She had barely finished speaking when her peripheral vision flickered. Her eyelids twitched, and the corner of her mouth curled upward as she rubbed her chin, a knowing, amused smile forming.
"Oh? Has someone finally reacted? Looks like this race… is going to be far more interesting than we thought, kuku~"
Once again, the commentator's voice paused for a split second—then suddenly soared.
"Entering the far-side straight, let's confirm the positions—wait!"
"Someone is launching a chase against Kitasan Black! It's—"
"Ribbon Victory!"
The voice was filled with disbelief, as though the commentator couldn't quite trust what he was seeing. In the next instant, the call turned into a rapid-fire barrage.
"In first place is still the runaway leader, Kitasan Black! Second is Libre Superbe, third is Ribbon Victory!"
"The second favorite, Satono Rasen, is at the head of the Pace Chaser group, with Angel Wing close behind!"
"And right now, Ribbon Victory is making her move!"
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Latest Post In Patreon: Chapter 274: Adjusting the Start and Pacing Rhythm[2]
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https://www.patreon.com/collection/1617249?view=condensed[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/collection/1617249?view=condensed
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/155512898?collection=1617249
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/155512898?collection=1617249
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/1617249?view=condensed