Darya Dmitrieva
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Uma Musume: It All Started When I Got Sent Flying Ten Meters
🕑 Added 2025-10-14 18:00:11 +0000 UTCChapter 128: Good News
Even from the side, anyone could see it clearly
As though the track had been split into two dimensions, the pack of seventeen Umamusume had divided into two worlds somewhere between the third and fourth lanes.
Sixteen silhouettes were racing in the prime inner lanes, charging straight toward the curve before the stands.
On the outer lane, as if running in a race of her own, was a single, towering figure—the very last in the pack.
That tall figure was entering the curve as well.
In the blink of an eye, the wall of runners on her right cast a long, dark shadow across her body.
When that shadow spilled over her cheek like ink, Gold Ship suddenly clenched her jaw.
Every muscle fiber in her body began to tremble in response to that single movement.
A wave of cheers exploded from the grandstands, but in her ears, only the thunderous beat of her own heart pumping blood remained.
At the moment that roar filled her head, her sharp ears caught the gasp of High Friendship beside her, the trembling of bells up ahead, the uneven rhythm of feets, the quickening breaths of others.
You feel it, don’t you?
The surging tide of my power…
But you know what?
You’re a little too late.
Whispering soundlessly to the air, her lips curled upward.
Eyes locked on the leading group, she surged forward.
The track erupted beneath her feet like a raging sea; flying grass and mud scattered into foamy waves.
Each wave was identical—every crest sliced cleanly in half by an irresistible force, forming perfect half-moons.
The commentator’s voice broke loose uncontrollably:
“She’s coming! She’s coming!”
“It’s the legendary unsinkable battleship!”
“At this moment, the golden dreadnought sets sail!”
The deafening roar of the crowd distorted in his shout, as if the sound itself were echoing through deep waters, rolling like thunder across the Kyoto Racecourse.
The pack seemed to falter beneath the sheer pressure of that surging storm.
The pounding of feets along the far straightaway stretched and warped—like the desperate cries of fish fleeing a predator in the depths.
“Tenth! Seventh! Fifth… fourth! Fourth!”
The commentator’s voice tore through the clouds:
“Gold Ship has moved up to fourth!”
“She’s not doing an end closer! She’s not doing an end closer!”
“Gold Ship isn’t running from behind this time!”
“She’s taking a pace chaser style!”
“Gold Ship is running as a pace chaser!”
“She’s side by side with Curren Mirotic now!”
“Up ahead are Galloping Thunder and Phantom Gale, desperately clinging to the lead, While behind them, Lone Bright Sky and Triomphe Ballet are trying to close from the rear!”
“But this time, Gold Ship is running in front!”
Once again, the right-hand slope of Kyoto’s course trembled beneath the onslaught of seventeen Umamusume—seventeen streaks cutting through the bend at different angles, like a pod of whales breaching the waves.
And among that pod, or perhaps behind it, a single massive ship plowed through the surf like an unstoppable dreadnought.
The instant they broke through into the final straight, the roar of hundreds of thousands was suddenly dragged into the depths of the sea.
Inside the captain’s bridge of that great ship, all trivial parameters vanished.
Only the course—and the destination—remained.
That familiar sensation spread through Gold Ship’s entire body.
The taut muscles at the back of her neck twitched; the faint tremor rippled down her spine to the tailbone—the first vibration of a bowstring drawn to its limit.
Wind pressure tore at her ears; the sting where the fur met the skin made her narrow her eyes.
Even so, her vision was as clear as it had been at the start of her voyage.
Out of the corner of her right eye, she caught the lingering glint of the gold bell swinging from Curren Mirotic’s body; behind her, the gust kicked up by Lone Bright Sky; and her own silver tail tracing arcs in the air.
The sharp scent of crushed grass mixed with the earthy tang of soil as it flooded her nose.
Sweat flung from Galloping Thunder ahead hit her face with a salty sting—like splashes of lemon sea-salt soda.
The pounding in her chest grew louder, each thump, thump shaking her molars.
Her jaw trembled on its own—and she accidentally bit her tongue.
A burst of iron flooded her mouth; the taste of blood sparked the final switch that unleashed every muscle in her body.
The small scrape she’d gotten during training suddenly flashed through her mind—and with it, the memory of that bitter, unforgettable taste from when she’d curiously licked the medicine afterward.
That faint trace of bitterness lingered in her mouth as the finish line—the one she had twice seen from afar—finally came into view.
A suffocating tightness rose in her chest. She wanted desperately to gulp down air.
But she didn’t.
Still holding her breath as the final sprint demanded, she only allowed the thinnest slit between her lips, greedily sipping what little oxygen she could.
Her mouth curved into a grin, her canine teeth biting into the onrushing wind.
In that fleeting moment, it felt as if she were biting down on all the things that had carried her here: the training plans the old man had handed her, the nutrient drinks her senpai left behind while pretending not to care, the teasing encouragement of her friends, and the bright, admiring gazes of her kouhai.
When she pushed off for the final step, she could hear it—the roar of waves rolling across the ocean within her bones.
This body was no longer the fragile little sailboat that couldn’t endure a storm.
Every inch of muscle had been tempered by wind, rain, and snow; every vein coursed with sunlight and moonlight from the training grounds; every bit of skin bore the warmth of victory and the sting of defeat.
Closer now—the finish line she had crossed twice before was right before her eyes.
Suddenly, she remembered the mirror in the locker room that morning.
The reflection there wasn’t just of a tall Umamusume with silver-gray hair, making silly faces on purpose.
It was also the reflection of a golden dreadnought—the one and only vessel left after a thousand others had sailed and sunk.
Third voyage… this route again… huh?
A sudden weakness spread through her entire body.
She slowed down in confusion, only to realize that somehow—without even noticing—she had stopped her furious sprint and was now jogging.
No, not “somehow.”
It wasn’t inexplicable at all.
She had already crossed the finish line, and her body, out of sheer habit from endless days of training, had eased into a cooldown jog.
So then… what was the result of this voyage?
Snapping back to her senses, she turned toward the scoreboard.
Before her blurred vision could even focus, a deafening roar burst over her—the crowd’s tsunami of cheers mingled with the commentator’s voice cracking in disbelief.
“She did it! She did it!”
“At the very last moment—she overtook Curren Mirotic! She– She’s done it!”
“Three consecutive Spring Tenno Sho victories!”
“The Golden Dreadnought reigns again in Kyoto!”
“The champion of this year’s Spring Tenno Sho is Gold Ship!!”
For a moment, she stood frozen.
Then the distant scoreboard came into focus—her name, familiar yet somehow new, shining bright.
Her mouth curved upward on its own.
She raised both arms, clenched her fists loosely, and struck her usual pose, muttering to herself:
“Well, the commentary sounded a lot better this time.”
“But wait, was that a couplet just now? Or maybe a rhyme verse?”
“It sounded kind of weird…”
“If it’s a couplet, there’s still one line missing, isn’t there? What was it called again…?”
“Eh, whatever. Guess I’ll fill it in myself.”
“What should I add…?”
“Ah, I know.” ‘Glory! All accounted for! Hahahaha!’”
Hands on her hips, she burst into loud, carefree laughter.
Then she saw him—inside the track, just beyond the finish line—an elderly man, smiling warmly and waving at her.
Beside him stood a black-haired Umamusume with braided hair, also smiling, waving enthusiastically.
Without thinking, Gold Ship’s heart leapt.
Overjoyed, she charged forward, leaping over the rail like she was about to deliver a kick.
Startled, the black-haired girl quickly lifted the old man and stepped back, shooting her a reproachful look.
Gold Ship didn’t mind at all.
Landing on the ground, she planted her hands on her hips once more and laughed even louder.
“Hey! Didn’t I tell you this race would be no problem?”
“See that, old man? Big sis? I did it!!”
