The air at Tokyo Racecourse seemed to freeze. Even the wind held its breath.
The noonday sun poured down without restraint, illuminating every blade of grass on the emerald course. Yet its light alone could not enter Special Week's abyss-deep eyes.
She stood in the outermost gate with her head slightly lowered. Brown hair fell along her cheeks, concealing most of her face. Her breathing was frighteningly calm, the rise and fall of her chest almost imperceptible. It was as though she were about to take an ordinary afternoon jog rather than enter a race that could decide her destiny.
"Runners, take your positions—"
The starter's electronically amplified voice rolled across the venue. The roaring stands fell silent in an instant, and tens of thousands of gazes converged like spotlights upon the seven closed steel gates.
"Ready—"
"Bang!"
The crisp report of the starting pistol tore through the air!
The instant the gates opened, seven figures shot forward like arrows from their bowstrings, throwing grass and dust into the air!
"The race has begun! Seven umamusume enter the course like seven meteors!" The commentator's voice rose sharply, his words coming at tremendous speed. "Crimson Gale, in the innermost lane, has made a decisive start! She's like a mass of burning flame, instantly claiming the inside! Royal Melody on the outside refuses to yield. She's adjusting her stride elegantly and trying to secure a favorable position in the middle of the pack!"
"Look at Tranquil Echo in lane three! She's holding close to the rail with a steady, powerful stride, remaining perfectly calm amid the chaos! And now our focus—Special Week! Which position has she chosen? Oh? She's running fourth!"
The course was chaotic during the opening phase.
True to her name, Crimson Gale resembled a streak of red lightning. She unleashed astonishing speed at the start and attempted to leave every opponent behind. Her twin tails whipped wildly in the wind, and the desire for victory burned in her eyes.
"So that's the genius? She doesn't look like much to me."
From the lead, Crimson Gale glanced back at Special Week and curled her lips into a disdainful smile.
"I thought she was supposed to be impressive, but she's only a little girl following the pace. If you don't dare charge ahead, I'll show you what real speed looks like!"
Golden light suddenly flashed across her racing shoes!
It was the symbol of a powerful runner, a brilliant mark engraved into her very blood. That golden radiance signaled an advanced skill beyond the ordinary level.
Set against the golden light, Crimson Gale's speed instantly climbed to a new height.
[Taking the Initiative!]
The skill's light clung to her calves like golden wings.
"Hahahaha! This is it! No one can catch me!"
Feeling the lightness granted by the skill, Crimson Gale grew even more excited. Her stride lengthened as she attempted to open a decisive gap in a single push.
Behind her, Royal Melody narrowed her eyes. Appreciation flickered through them, but she remained primarily composed.
*As expected of someone willing to challenge a Central debut race. She can't be underestimated.*
As an umamusume from a distinguished Kanto family, Royal Melody possessed pride of her own. She did not blindly follow Crimson Gale's reckless pace. Instead, she maintained her breathing rhythm and followed elegantly.
Tranquil Echo calmly settled behind the pair in third place. From there, she could observe her opponents clearly—including the genius from Central's Tracen Academy, Special Week.
Special Week's performance remained utterly unremarkable.
Her presence alone was imposing, like a silent volcano, but she had displayed nothing exceptional. She simply ran. Her arms swung naturally, her stride was moderate, and she released none of the monstrous pressure everyone expected.
"Special Week has chosen the Leader strategy! But this appears different from the explosive power she displayed in her entrance-exam mock race," the commentator said, confusion entering his voice as he reviewed the information before him. "According to our pre-race reports, Special Week demonstrated an astonishing finishing kick during the entrance exam. Today, however, she has abandoned that previous strategy. She's merely... following at an appropriate distance? Has leaving Team Rigil and losing its tactical guidance made her hesitate?"
A small commotion spread through the stands.
The fans had expected Special Week to demonstrate overwhelming strength and shock the entire venue from the start. Yet at present she looked far too ordinary—like a complete beginner.
"It seems the rumors really were exaggerated," one analyst said with disappointment from the commentary booth. "Special Week may have shown remarkable potential during the entrance exam, but the pressure of a debut race is an entirely different matter. She hasn't activated a single skill and is running only on her basic ability. That indicates she lacks absolute confidence. Faced with Crimson Gale's aggressive strategy, she has chosen a conservative approach."
"Indeed." Another analyst adjusted his glasses. "She may be probing her opponents or conserving stamina for the final straight. Either way, she has displayed no dominant strength so far. At this distance, falling too far behind early makes a late recovery extremely difficult."
A small number of runners, however, were not deceived by Special Week's "disguise."
As she ran, Tranquil Echo repeatedly observed Special Week from the corner of her eye. Her brow furrowed, and an inexplicable unease rose within her.
*Something is wrong... Her presence is too stable. No rookie could be this steady. And her stride... It looks ordinary, but every step contains an indescribable force, as though she were planting roots deep into the earth. Is she genuinely following us? Or is she waiting for something?*
Royal Melody also sensed the anomaly.
The smile gradually disappeared from her elegant face, replaced by suspicion.
*She's like a shark lurking in the deep sea. Motionless on the surface, but the instant its prey reveals an opening, its fangs will strike.*
Amid the tense and furious atmosphere, the race quietly entered its second half.
The shadows across the course began to lengthen, and the runners' breathing gradually grew heavier.
Crimson Gale remained in front, but her breath had become ragged. She had spent too much stamina too early to preserve her lead. Fine sweat covered her forehead, and fatigue gradually replaced the frenzy in her eyes.
Tranquil Echo and Royal Melody followed close behind, fighting intensely over second place. Both gathered their strength and waited for the moment to begin their final sprint.
Special Week remained securely in fourth, unhurried and apparently indifferent to the struggle ahead. Like a ghost, she followed without drawing closer or falling farther away.
"Hmph. See? She really can't do it!" When Crimson Gale realized that the footsteps behind her were not approaching, her final trace of vigilance disappeared. "Some genius. She can eat my dust!"
Just as Crimson Gale prepared to relax and adjust her rhythm—
Something changed.
Special Week moved.
There was no sudden flare of skill light. No earth-shaking transformation like entering ZONE or Wildness. No golden radiance or blue blaze.
She simply... accelerated.
There were no elaborate movements and no skill supporting her. The frequency of her steps abruptly increased, and her body shot forward like an arrow, surging out of fourth place!
"What?!"
Royal Melody, the closest runner, received the pressure first. An invisible force struck from behind and nearly stole her breath. It was pure, brutal physical oppression.
She looked back in terror and saw Special Week's expressionless face rapidly approaching at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"She... she didn't use a skill?!" Royal Melody's pupils contracted. "How is that possible?! This speed... this raw physical strength?! What are her legs made of?!"
Tranquil Echo also felt the threat from behind and to the side. She turned and met Special Week's frighteningly calm gaze. No flame of competitive desire burned in those violet eyes—only the coldness of someone who had long known the outcome.
"She... she was concealing her strength from the beginning!" A storm erupted in Tranquil Echo's heart. "She was only warming up! At this speed, she never took us seriously! Has she been racing us at a walking pace?!"
Crimson Gale finally realized something was wrong.
She had opened such a large gap, so why were those footsteps growing closer?
They were heavy and powerful, and every impact seemed to land directly upon her heartbeat.
She looked back instinctively.
Special Week's ghostlike figure had already passed Royal Melody and Tranquil Echo. Now she was charging toward Crimson Gale at a speed the leader had never witnessed.
"Impossible! Impossible!"
Crimson Gale screamed as fear overwhelmed her reason. She desperately tried to accelerate again and activate another skill, but her legs were heavy as lead. Her stamina had already been exhausted by the earlier sprint.
There was no collision and no exchange of words—only suffocating pressure and the despair created by absolute strength.
The gap opened in an instant.
One meter. Two meters. Five. Ten...
Special Week did not slow down. Her speed continued rising! Her stride remained steady and her breathing even, as though the race for which everyone else had risked everything were no more than a leisurely stroll.
"My... my word!" The commentator's voice grew hoarse with shock and even cracked. "Special Week! She... she hasn't used a single skill! She's only... running! Her speed has surpassed every opponent! She's opening a gap! An enormous gap! This is... unbelievable!"
"Look at her form! Not a single wasted movement! She resembles a wild beast sprinting across the grasslands! She has cast aside the wind's resistance! She's ignoring the drain on her stamina! Is this... Special Week's true strength?!"
The spectators sat frozen.
Their mouths hung open. They did not even notice the cheering sticks falling from their hands. Their eyes remained fixed upon the lone figure leaving every rival behind, their minds completely blank.
The visual impact was simply too overwhelming.
In one corner of the stands, the atmosphere inside Rigil's private viewing area was entirely different.
Trainer Hana Tojo stood with her arms folded across her chest. There was no surprise on her face, only the calm expression of someone thinking, *Just as expected.*
The Rigil members beside her—the umamusume who had briefly crossed paths with Special Week—showed no shock either.
Hana watched the solitary figure on the straight with a profound gaze.
"She doesn't need us," Hana said softly, a nearly imperceptible mixture of regret and pride in her voice.
On the course, the other six runners fell into despair.
They watched Special Week recede into the distance until she became a tiny black dot and disappeared around the final turn. They wanted to pursue her, only to discover that they could not even reach her shadow.
"Why..."
Tears spilled from Crimson Gale's eyes and mingled with the sweat falling onto the turf.
Tranquil Echo and Royal Melody were equally pale, their eyes filled with disbelief and deep fear.
"What... what kind of monster is she...?"
Special Week emerged from the last turn and entered the final straight.
Sunlight fell across her body like a layer of golden radiance. Her figure appeared utterly solitary upon the open course, yet impossibly powerful.
She continued all the way to the finish.
"Across the line! Special Week wins her debut race by a crushing margin!" the commentator cried, his voice almost breaking with the excitement of witnessing history. "She... she has made history! She has redefined the word 'genius'! This race was Special Week's one-woman show!"
Deathly silence held the venue for three full seconds.
Then, like a volcanic eruption, thunderous shouts and cheers instantly drowned the entire racecourse!
"Special Week! Special Week! Special Week!"
The spectators screamed her name and waved their cheering sticks wildly.
They had witnessed the birth of a true "monster."
After crossing the finish line, Special Week merely slowed to a stop. She breathed a little harder, but her face remained expressionless, as though everything she had just accomplished were insignificant.
She turned toward the empty stretch of course behind her and the opponents still struggling far in the distance.
Her eyes remained calm as water.
Beneath that calm, however, lay an endless ambition powerful enough to sweep through the entire racing world.
This was only the opening act.
Her campaign had barely begun.
...
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