Chapter 48. In a Flash, Records Shattered - Part 1
Sunday dawned bright and cloudless over Hakodate.
Though summer had arrived, the city's embrace of the sea kept the air gentle. The highest temperature would only reach 24℃—a blessing for both the roaring spectators and the Uma Musume who would soon blaze across the turf.
Mejiro Dober had already entered Hakodate Racecourse the night before, waiting quietly for her moment. After breakfast, Shuta An set out on foot with Tokai Teio and Silence Suzuka, walking the one kilometer beneath the clear sky.
Though he could no longer offer Dober further reminders, Shuta An felt no unease. With weather like this, there was nothing more to say.
She should be able to win with a normal performance, he thought calmly.
"It seems this is the first time an Uma Musume from our team is running a short-distance graded race, isn't it?" Silence Suzuka observed, her tone light but thoughtful.
"You're right." Shuta An searched his memory before nodding. "It truly is our first challenge in a short-distance Twinkle Series graded race."
"For short distances, Dober-chan really is our best," Tokai Teio added with a small smile. "If Suzuka-senpai, Oguri-senpai, or I dropped down to sprint distances, we wouldn't be able to perform at our peak."
Shuta An rested a hand against the VIP box door.
"In Europe, it's normal to start with short-distance races during the debut year, then gradually extend the distance in the Classic year toward Classic races. But Japan's Twinkle Series schedule doesn't allow for that kind of progression. If this weren't the first graded race exclusively for debut-year Uma Musume, I wouldn't have entered Dober."
"After winning the Hakodate Nisai Stakes, Dober's next race will be in North America, right?" Silence Suzuka asked, glancing upward.
He nodded. "Yes. I plan to arrange Suzuka's next race at the Arlington Million. There will be a two-week gap between your race and Dober's, so we'll have to separate temporarily for a week."
"No problem," Suzuka replied gently. "I ran at Arlington last year. The preparations won't require too much of Ann's attention. You can focus entirely on Dober."
"That's for later," Shuta An said quietly, his gaze shifting to Tokai Teio. "I may still need Teio's help then."
"Me?" Teio tilted her head, puzzled.
But he had already opened the door and stepped inside.
—
Because Hokkaido's summers were far milder than those of Honshu, many debut-year Uma Musume chose to begin their careers here. The URA Association encouraged it through scheduling as well.
Of the ten races preceding the Hakodate Nisai Stakes that day, five were debut races. Two more were maiden races. Nearly every newly debuted Uma Musume in the region was galloping across the turf.
To Shuta An's eyes, they looked inexperienced—green, raw, their racing instincts still unrefined.
They were far behind Mejiro Dober.
Even if today marks only her second race— he reflected inwardly, Oguri and Suzuka have shared their experiences with her during training and casual talks. That kind of guidance is something ordinary teams cannot provide.
Now, everything depended on whether Dober had fully absorbed those lessons—whether they had already fused into her instincts. Short-distance Twinkle Series races did not grant time for deliberation. Decisions had to be instantaneous.
If she does exactly what I told her—winning this won't be difficult.
—
Inside the lounge, Mejiro Dober sat quietly on the sofa, a glass of carrot juice resting in her hands. More than an hour remained before entry registration, yet her heart was already pounding.
"So this is the pressure of a G3—" she murmured softly. "If it's this intense now, what must Suzuka-senpai and Oguri-senpai feel in G1 races? If it were me, I might collapse under that weight—"
Or perhaps—one simply grows used to it?
She took a slow sip and turned her gaze toward the television, where the current race flickered across the screen.
"The turf looks dry today. The speed will be extremely fast." Her eyes sharpened. "Trainer telling me to run near the front—it makes sense. If I stay behind on a high-speed track like this, the leading group could hold their advantage all the way."
She replayed every instruction from their pre-race meeting, carving each word into her consciousness.
"Short distances don't give me time to think. My reactions have to be instinctive."
She set down the glass and clenched her fist.
"I had fun last week. I trained harder than ever this week. Today—I'll bring it all to a perfect close."
It was time to report to registration.
Dober straightened her gym clothes and lightly patted her cheeks.
"Let's go."
The moment she stepped into the corridor, she noticed another Uma Musume emerging from the opposite lounge.
She recognized her immediately—Meiner Max. Second favorite according to the magazines. The greatest rival identified by her Trainer.
"Good afternoon," Dober greeted politely.
"Good afternoon, Mejiro Dober," MeinerMax replied curtly.
Then she turned at once, quickening her pace toward the registration desk. Her Trainer had warned her not to engage in unnecessary exchanges with her biggest rival—not to be dragged into a psychological contest before the race even began.
But neither MeinerMax nor her Trainer realized how that reaction would appear in Dober's eyes.
She's afraid of me.
Confidence surged within her chest.
"That's right. I'm from the academy's strongest team. If I unleash my aura in the race…I can make them hesitate." (Dober, you are too chuuni)
Ahead of her, Meiner Max felt an intensifying stare at her back—a presence that seemed to close in with every step.
Because she had drawn the far outside gate, Mejiro Dober was the last to enter the stalls. Only a few fleeting seconds remained for adjustment.
But she was already in race mode.
Her gaze locked forward. Breath steady. Muscles coiled.
For this Hakodate Nisai Stakes, Shuta Trainer had chosen a senko strategy. That meant one absolute requirement—no mistakes at the start. No hesitation. No slow break. In a 1200-meter sprint decided in a blink, even the smallest flaw would be fatal.
"Click!"
The gates sprang open as one.
There was no time to observe the others. Mejiro Dober launched cleanly, bursting from the stall with flawless timing.
From the corner of her eye, she caught it—Silk Mastang from Gate 7 was slower off the mark.
Instinct answered before thought could form.
She quickened.
In a breath, she edged ahead of Silk Mastang and angled inward, seizing the racing line. The move was sharp—decisive.
Silk Mastang had no choice. Contesting the position would risk contact. She eased slightly, choosing the safer path around Dober's advance. That tiny deceleration was enough to shatter her rhythm.
Her Trainer frowned, casting an irritated glance toward Shuta An, who had already descended from the VIP box and stood calmly near the track.
The Young man did not react.
There had been no collision. No foul. No violation.
Therefore—no guilt.
—
Having secured position ahead of Silk Mastang, Mejiro Dober intended to continue angling inward to seize the front outright.
But from Gate 6, Machikane Eden executed the same ferocious pace she had displayed in her debut 1200-meter turf race—the one where she left second place trailing by 0.6 seconds.
She accelerated relentlessly.
The gap widened.
In an instant, Dober calculated.
She'll take the lead before the bend…perhaps even open daylight.
A decision crystallized.
If I'm running near the front, then marking the leader is simplest.
She allowed Machikane Eden to extend roughly three lengths ahead. The move placed her third overall.
And directly to her right—pressed near the rail—was Meiner Max.
When Dober surged past, Meiner Max felt it immediately.
That pressure.
That presence.
Alarm flared.
Her eyes darted.
Ahead—SuperDress.
Two lengths in front—MachikaneEden.
Left—Mejiro Dober.
Half a length behind—NiceAmerican.
Right—cold steel rail.
A perfect box.
By the time MeinerMax fully understood, they had already entered the bend.
If someone in front loses pace…if even a sliver opens—
Hope flickered.
Even accelerating early is better than suffocating here!
—
Unaware of Meiner Max's mounting crisis, Mejiro Dober focused entirely on Machikane Eden beyond Super Dress's shoulder.
No matter when she fades—my timing won't change.
As they entered the curve, centrifugal force tugged them outward. A narrow gap formed.
Without hesitation, Dober edged slightly closer to MeinerMax—closing it.
"Ah…" Tokai Teio lifted an eyebrow at the giant screen. "Is that pure instinct? Dober's style feels—imposing."
"It's also Meiner Max's poor judgment," Shuta An replied calmly. "In a sprint, greed for speed without awareness invites a box. If not now, then when?"
Not far away, MeinerMax's Trainer could not argue.
He had assumed Dober would replicate her debut's strategy—patient, measured, closing late.
He had not anticipated this.
A strategy shift for a second career start? In a graded race?
Isn't he afraid she won't adapt?
His confusion deepened.
—
At that very moment, Machikane Eden began to falter.
The blistering pace demanded its price.
Super Dress's stride wavered—rhythm breaking, stamina thinning.
Both Meiner Max and Mejiro Dober sensed it.
Acceleration gathered in their legs.
As Super Dress approached the exit of the bend, her stamina gave way. She drifted outward, unable to fully resist the curve's pull.
A gap!
"I won't lose here!" Meiner Max lowered her center of gravity, ready to slice through the opening on Super Dress's right.
But Dober had already moved.
Before Super Dress could slide fully into her path, Mejiro Dober accelerated—half a heartbeat earlier.
It was enough.
Nice American, behind them, attempted to respond—but the pace had drained too much. Her legs could not answer.
"The first 600 meters in 33.7 seconds—" Shuta An muttered. "That's brutal."
Even those in the rear would be feeling the burn.
"Fortunately, Dober-chan can handle longer distances," Silence Suzuka said softly, relief threading her voice. "Her explosiveness is strong too. This pace won't break her."
As her senior, Suzuka wished sincerely for Dober's victory. She felt no fear of being surpassed, no anxiety about shifting hierarchies.
Because she understood something simple.
In Ann's eyes—
They were all the same.
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