“Ladies and gentlemen!”

  The announcer’s voice booms through the tunnel, making Normcore’s ears twitch. She leans down, checking her shoes, her tracksuit, then her hair. She looks around- there were few lights in the roof, the sole brightness coming from the entrance before her and the exit behind, the middle of the tunnel being shrouded in darkness.

  “Weeeeeelcome to the Fukushima racecourse, the most prestigious racecourse in Tohoku, the only graded racecourse in Tohoku! My name is Aiba Kouta, professional racing commentator, and alongside me is expert analyst Kaito Watanabe! We are up for a big day today- let’s hear some cheers!”

  The roar of the crowd drowns out the sound of the mic. Normcore’s ears fold slightly- wasn’t this too big of a showing for a regional race?

  “This particular racecourse is known for hosting four G3 races annually: The Fukushima Himba Stakes, the Tanabata Sho, the Radio Nikkei Sho, and last but not least, the Fukushima Kinen! We, however, are here for neither- today’s race is the limelight stepping stone for upcoming racers in the Tohoku region: The Michinoku Kogen Stakes!”

  Normcore closes her eyes. Her mind drifts back to the preparation room…

  “Listen up.” Kentaro slams a stick against the whiteboard. “The Fukushima racecourse features three different tracks, but you’re running the 1600 meter right-handed turf one.”

  He points towards a red line labelled ‘beginning’.

  “The runners start from the front stretch of the first corner and round the second into the straight. That’s where you’ll take an inside path.” The stick traces along the track. “I want you to keep pace in the front of the pack. Then, as you come around the fourth corner, you’re going to hit that surge and aim for the finish. Got it?”

  Normcore’s brow furrows as she comes back to the present. Kentaro’s plan was, plainly put, inconceivably bad. The type of shit Kaibara would’ve fired his assistant for if they suggested it to one of his trainees.

  “Despite not being a national level race, folks, this year’s Michinoku Kogen Stakes has possibly the strongest lineup we’ve seen in the history of regionals! Boasting several top talents from across the region gunning for a strong start going into their fall season, this is bound to be a thrilling endeavor!”

  Pace Chasing was a common strategy, especially on shorter tracks. There was nothing wrong with the strategy, the issue lied within the competition. Normcore had asked Masaru to gather intel- Seven out of fourteen were also Pace Chasers, most of them either having more experience, ran in longer races, or simply had better stamina. Worst of all, she was in bracket five. Telling her to try and tango with a moshpit of madness would only result in burning herself out before the final stretch.

  No. There had to be a better plan.

  “Without further ado- Let us introduce the heavyweights of this year’s lineup!”

  Normcore’s ears twitch- She hears the sound of hushed arguing behind her. She turns, spotting familiar black hair curled like ribbons bouncing down the tunnel.

  “If you win the Stakes… Tracen will reach out with an offer once more. There will come a point where I cannot keep denying them for your sake.”

  Katsura Oscar stamps into the tunnel, Goutarou in tow, his beret cap slightly crooked.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Trainer.” She replies, not looking back. “I’m not stopping until we’ve won everything there is to win. Come hell or high water, I’ll consider Japan worthy of conquest only with you in my stead.”

  “Katsura…” Goutarou looks like he wants to say something, but he catches himself. “We’ll talk more after the race.”

  His footsteps echo down the tunnel as he briskly walks away. Normcore sneaks a glance at Katsura- her expression isn’t one of worry. It’s one of determination. She pushes the conversation out of her head and focuses back down the tunnel.

  This was her chance. Tracen’s scouts were definitely present… If she can prove herself to be someone capable of standing toe to toe with Katsura Oscar, they’ll take notice of her too. Then she might finally escape the hell that was Kentaro.

  With a deep breath she starts to walk forward alongside the rest of the competition, yet her left foot continues to softly limp- she hadn’t been able to get that out of her system quite yet.

  Her mind finally comes up with a proper plan.

  Start at the back of the pack. Conserve her energy until the third corner. Use the entire race to position herself onto the outside for her final spurt while the pace chasers tussle with each other… and then hit the gas at the fourth.

  1600 meters wasn’t a lot of time, so every second mattered. If she messed things up, there were no do-overs. Her heart thumps loudly as she marches out into the grass, the sunlight nearly blinding her in the process…

  “Hailing from Iwaki City’s prestigious racing Academy; in bracket five, post nine, we have the eighth favorite, Normcore, with a record of two wins out of six races! Her academy, known for producing some of the best runners we’ve seen in the region, means that while she may not be the crowd favorite by a long shot, this’ll be a great chance for her to gain some experience on the track!”

  The smell of turf hits her like a truck. The soil beneath the grass rises with an earthy scent, running up the back of her nose and lighting a sensation in her she didn’t know she had. Kaibara had been to several races in person, but running one was a whole different experience. Her tail swishes slowly in the breeze, the warm sunlight tracing over her skin just enough to make her feel warm and toasty. The sky was a brilliant streak of azure, the clouds lazily drifting in the wind… the conditions were exceptional.

  “-And the final student from Iwaki City’s Academy, The best of the best, the first favorite, in bracket seven, post fourteen, the clear favorite to win by a long shot today, ladies and gentlemen, the one you’ve all been waiting for: Katsura Oscar!”

  She steps onto the turf, and the crowd detonates. The sound rolls over the course like a tidal wave, rattling the boards beneath Normcore’s feet. Flags whip in the wind. The announcer’s voice fights to be heard over the chant of her name, but it’s hopeless — the stadium belongs to Katsura Oscar now.

  She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t smile. She barely tosses a glance at the crowd that’s losing its mind in her wake. She walks forward with a slow, deliberate stride, eyes half-lidded, nose wrinkled as though the turf itself were beneath her.

  Then her gaze locks onto Normcore. In that heartbeat, the roar drops away. Her expression hardens into something lethal. She raises a hand, tracing her finger across her throat, and holds it there for a beat.

  The crowd explodes again. Normcore’s tail flicks once, instinctively.

  “Having an unbeaten eleven race win streak across the country and shooting for twelve, Katsura Oscar has also been invited to the upcoming Saudi Arabia Royal cup! She is a national level racer by every metric, folks, and we can only hope to see her perform her best at today’s Michinoku Kogen stakes before she’s snatched up by Tracen-”

  Katsura lets out an audible “tch” before entering her shuttle.

  High up on the stands, a small commotion arises as a silver-haired Uma in casual attire worms her way past the thick crowd. Long strands of silvery hair billow outwards behind her alongside swings of her excited tail. A second Umamusume follows behind, half her hair red, half her hair white, equally parts frantic as she less successfully squeezes her way past the crowd.

  “Whew! Looks like I made it after all!”

  Onlookers shuffle aside, some bewildered, some annoyed, a red haired Umamusume right behind her with a concerned expression.

  “Chrono… just snap a few pics and let’s get outta here.”

  Chrono Genesis fishes a camera out of her pocket, fumbling with the lens. She pans to the field, zooming in onto one figure in particular- Katsura Oscar.

  “No can do! I have to snap the finish so Trainer can know what she’s really capable of! But first-”

  She throws her bag against the floor and raises her camera again. The red-haired Umamusume behind her frantically runs forward to keep the bags off the floor. Click. Click. The sound of the shuttle is drowned out by the crowd. Chrono lowers her camera slightly and frowns.

  “You’re taking this too seriously, Chrono!”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Not at all! History is made from the collective steps of those who dare to dream- uh?”

  Her voice falters. Loves Only You straightens, peeking over the railing with a bewildered look on her eyes. Chrono’s camera hand remains frozen in the air, her wide eyes staring towards the far end of the racetrack.

  “Chrono? What’s the matter?”

  She follows her gaze- a silvery haired Umamusume in a track suit, slowly stretching and warming up with a light jog. The strands gleam softly in the midday sun, Chrono’s a pinch shade paler, yet the resemblance was uncanny.

  “You know her?”

  “Normcore.” Chrono Genesis whispers softly, more to herself than to her friend. “What’re you doing here? Don’t tell me… you decided to stay?”

  “...And all our contestants have finished lining up!”

  Normcore saunters into her shuttle, the gate closing behind her with a click. She gazes to her side, picking out the opposition that were most likely to cause her trouble. Of course, Katsura was the leading threat, but she couldn’t ignore the rest. She slowly lowers her posture in anticipation of the start. Her tail swishes back and forth rapidly at the smell of turf- she didn’t even realize until it smacked into the side of her gate.

  She needed to focus. On the outside brackets, she was most likely going to have to run a longer route. Being tangled on the inside was a death wish for someone like her, though the outside route meant she had to run dozens more meters. In that case, she might as well pace herself for the 1800.

  Beeeeeeeep. Click.

  A shrill silence pierces the air as the gates burst open. A dozen bodies shoot out of metal like bullets, a blur of hair and muscle jostling for the inside line. Normcore doesn’t- she watches the rest struggle, a line quickly being formed from leader to trailer.

  “And we’re off! It looks like everyone has had a good start. Mostly. A few are lagging behind the pack, but the competition is fierce coming through the first straight!”

  Her sneakers hit the ground rhythmically, almost like a light jog, the turf rustling beneath her feet softly. She wasn’t in any particular rush despite being eleventh, and fighting to move up would only burn stamina for nothing.

  A figure tears herself from the pack outward, her black hair billowing aggressively as she settles behind the two front runners. Normcore’s breath hitches- Katsura had some impressive power to settle herself out front. Despite the rough early jostle, she came out practically unruffled.

  The group were rounding the first corner now. Normcore had a full view of the pack from behind, some unhappy with the placement they had. Early in the race as they were, she could spot a few beginning to drift out wide and pick up speed. She waits for the pack to swing past before taking a sharper turn around the corner, still lingering at the rear.

  “Well, it does look like Katsura Oscar is more than capable of keeping up with our frontrunners today. She’s right on their heels, ladies and gentlemen!”

  She throws a glance up top, the three in the lead having peeled away from the pack almost four lengths in lead. Her ears slightly flicker. She’d expected Katsura to hang a length or two ahead once she had cleared the pack, yet she decided to hunt down the frontrunners instead- that kind of power was definitely beyond regional levels.

  She draws in more deep breaths, steadying herself as she rounds the second corner. Normcore begrudgingly picks up pace- If she allowed Katsura to gain too much lead, she might not be able to catch up by the final straight.

  “And our runners head into the big straight, with a 14 length difference between our leader and trailer.”

  Of course, there was no danger of that at the moment, Katsura showed no intention of overtaking the racers in front of her. She was applying pressure from the back in order to burn out their stamina, forcing them to screw up their pacing or be overtaken.

  “Even as our leaders begin to show fatigue, Katsura Oscar remains unfazed! When will she begin her spurt?”

  The commentator was right. Her steps were powerful, methodic, almost robotic, not a single movement wasted. Zero deviation, perfect form down to the swinging of her arms- She ran as if she had all but one purpose, that being to win.

  Normcore was at the rear of the pack now. Her breath wasn’t starting to short just yet, though she could feel the sweat start to collect on her skin. Her muscles were properly fired up, burning, itching, begging to explode outward like a cork from a bottle.

  Not yet, she tells herself.

  The breeze ruffles through her hair pleasantly as they near the third corner. Round the big bend was the final fourth, and she could start to see the pack start to itch. She closely observes the pack in the lead. The one in the lead was barely holding on, whereas the one following her was clearly struggling, gasping for breath as her form threatened to disintegrate.

  Then comes the rounding of the third corner. The pack begins to pick up pace and so does Normcore, though she still lingers around the back. The leaders are quickly obscured by a mass of bodies, leaving Normcore mildly annoyed. If she couldn’t see Katsura begin her spurt…No, that wasn’t quite right.

  Just what was this sensation?

  She could still tell where they were. She could pinpoint everyone’s position on the track- the entire pack, front to back, almost as if she was looking at the track from above.

  “And the runners start to pick up heat as we come round into the fourth corner!”

  She saw it. She felt it- How the runner up, out of stamina, would drift slightly wide from her exhaustion. How Katsura Oscar, slipping by in the slipstream, would smell the opening and dart her way through…

  Bam.

  The sound of a horseshoe digging deep into the turf confirms her theory. The crowd starts to roar.

  “-And Katsura Oscar takes the lead decisively!”

  Normcore watches as the pack begins to pull clear. The ones in the front begin to step on the gas, the ones behind rushing onto the outside lane in an attempt to gain a clear path-

  “The backstretch here at Fukushima racecourse is quite short, folks! Will the runners at the back be able to make it in time?”

  Thunk. She plants her foot firmly on the green, her legs loaded like springs. Now it was all about waiting for an opening. She spots Katsura’s retreating figure as she begins rounding the fourth- she had blown past the two leading runners and was blazing down the homestretch.

  The outside track? The inside track?

  She needs to make a decision immediately or she wouldn’t be able to catch up. Most runners would swing wide for the final finish here…

  Her ears twitch slightly. A slight sensation tingles in her head, a silvery trail lighting up that tracked straight through the pack of bodies and ahead to the finish. Her body moves before her mind could follow, rubbery pellets fly off the turf as she accelerates straight for the pack.

  There it was. The opening.

  “What’s this?! Normcore! With an explosive spurt of speed, Normcore makes a daring surge through the inside line!”

  She squeezes between bodies and begins tearing down the track, accelerating down the straight till the railings become a blur. Her heart pounds violently in her chest, legs burning with each stride upon the firm green beneath her. She was gaining on Katsura now, five lengths became four and four lengths became three…

  No good. She wasn’t going to make it.

  The gap between them started to plateau. She was nearing the end of her spurt. She could feel it- Her breath starting to turn into gasps and the burn becoming sluggish… Katsura showed no sign of slowing down. Worse yet, her limp had come back, causing her to slowly to veer to the left.

  “Normcore, looking to pass… No! She can’t quite make it! And it looks like Katsura is in the clear!”

  Was this her limit?

  One and a half lengths between her and Katsura. A patch of green that felt miles away, a gaping chasm that started to crumble between the two. She had gotten lucky enough on the inside lane, and even then…

  She couldn’t properly push off her left foot, as if she was chained by the ankle.

  Would she have had a better chance if she started on an inside track? Would she be able to catch up if she had a few more days to train? That damn bastard Kentaro..

  “Always someone else’s fault, huh?”

  That voice…

  She lifts her weary head and looks forward. There stood Kaibara Akihiko, shimmering in the light, dressed in a pristine suit and tie- the same one he had bought after gaining his national licence.

  “The weather, the track, the bracket, bad luck, your trainee… it’s never your fault, is it, Kaibara?”

  After being in Normcore’s body for so long, it felt surreal to be referred to as your past life. It felt even more surreal to be lectured by your past life.

  “Every time things don’t go your way, you start making excuses. You can’t bear to take responsibility even when the fate of victory lies directly in your grasp.”

  Two hundred meters to go.

  “Are you really going to be satisfied with this? Let someone like Kentaro chain you for life? This is what he wants. Are you going to prove him right?”

  Normcore grits her teeth.

  “Only you can set yourself free. Give your all for the sake of victory, put your life on the line…”

  “URYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

  A deep, primal scream bursts from her throat, Normcore leaning forward so far her knees practically hit the floor with each stride.

  “…Only then can you say ‘it was out of my hands’.”

  Her foot digs deep into the track, her muscles screaming in pain as she kicks herself forward. Her knees threatened to buckle under the strain- it was a technique dirt racers used to gain traction on muddy tracks. If she slowed down for even a split second, she would faceplant into the turf. If she took one bad step, she could ruin one of her knees forever.

  “What’s this?! Normcore commits to a second spurt! We could be in for a dead heat finish, folks!”

  Kaibara’s ghost evaporates into mist as she gains on Katsura once more. She couldn’t feel her legs anymore, her breaths coming in ragged gasps so aggressive knives were stabbing at her lungs-

  The crowd roars. Railings creak aggressively as dozens spring to their feet, arms up in the air with screams loud enough to reach Kansas and back-

  “Normcore! Normcore’s caught up! The two are neck and neck with fifty meters to go!”

  A deathly stare comes from Katsura as she glances to her right. Her eyes burn with nothing but disgust, staring at her like a bug that refuses to die.

  “You damn vermin… How dare you show up here?”

  She hears a loathful growl as Katsura checks her with her body. Normcore holds strong- she was done being pushed around.

  “Always you getting in my way… again.. and again..”

  Normcore squeaks ahead by a nose. Barely. Katsura presses harder into her, the two locked in a deathly struggle as they surge towards the final finish, the crowd losing their minds.

  “Why won’t you stay down?! Begone!”

  Normcore was barely holding her at arm’s length now. Her body was shaking, threatening to give out at any moment. Every muscle in her screams in pain, her world turning a delicate shade of white around her- but there was no distance left for Katsura to make her way to the front.

  “What an upset! What a turnaround! Normcore leads by a nose as they come in for the-”

  Thud. Silence fills the air, a collective gasp coming from the audience, thousands of voices snuffed into horror at once.

  “I won’t let anyone stand in my way.”

  There’s no malice in Katsura’s voice, not even as she hurled her shoulder at Normcore’s body with all the strength she had. It was cold, calculated, matter of factly, as if she was narrating Normcore’s funeral.

  The world starts to spin. She sees the green of the turf, so close that she could count the individual strands. Then she spots the stands, horror etched on the faces of onlookers, some still locked in excitement…

  Then, the sky.

  Pain blossoms in her shoulder, her back, then her arms. Normcore slams hard into the ground, the world a chaotic spiral of colors as she tumbles aggressively past the turf covered head to toe in cuts. She comes to a stop sprawled on the floor, gasping as Katsura’s footsteps echo past the finish.

  “What’s this? K-Katsura Oscar- has tackled her opponent!”