Chapter 312: Eating Dirt and Sand
At the moment she was hit by the flying dirt, Kitasan Black finally understood why California Chrome hadn't rushed to take the inner lane from the very start.
Her opponent excelled on dirt tracks and had long known that running behind meant getting blasted with mud and sand.
Kitasan Black's gate position was closer to the inside, making it easier for her to cut in early. But if she had stayed too close from the beginning, she would have been forced to swallow all that flying debris.
That was why California Chrome had hung back at first, observing from the side—then, relying on overwhelming strength on dirt, surged ahead in one go through the turn.
And just like that, the one eating dirt… became her.
Uh… so this is a dirt-track-specific tactic…?
Gritting her teeth, Kitasan Black reduced how wide she opened her mouth and how deeply she breathed, struggling to keep her focus forward to track California Chrome's movement.
But in that instant, a strangely familiar feeling began to surface in her heart.
At the same time, across the training grounds, the temporarily assigned commentator broadcast the live situation:
"A beautiful overtaking maneuver through the turn! California Chrome executes a stunning pass on the curve!"
"At the moment between the first and second turns, California Chrome seized the opportunity and surged past Kitasan Black, now taking first place!"
"Kitasan Black trails by over a length!"
"Three lengths behind them is the main pack. The field is now clearly split into two groups: one consisting of California Chrome and Kitasan Black, and the other made up of the pursuing Umamusume!"
"However, Kitasan Black appears to be struggling. She is not a dirt-track Umamusume, and this new surface seems to be giving her trouble."
"Will she be able to show something more? Can she overtake California Chrome? Let's watch and see!"
Accompanied by the fairly professional commentary, more and more Umamusume, trainers, and even hotel guests gathered around, erupting into louder cheers, applause, and whistles.
Clutching the railing tightly, eyes wide, Almond Eye bounced in place as she shouted:
"W-wait a second! Isn't this kind of race unfair? Why is there so much mud flying around? Wasn't this track even maintained properly?!"
After yelling for a while, she noticed that the surrounding spectators were all watching the race excitedly. The few who glanced at her only showed puzzled expressions—she then realized she had been shouting in Japanese.
Quickly turning to Makoto, her face full of worry, tension, and frustration, she puffed her cheeks and said:
"Trainer, you say something too!"
Say something? About what? This… is completely normal for overseas dirt races…
Makoto rubbed his nose and gave a helpless smile.
He understood what Almond Eye was thinking. The amount of mud kicked up in dirt races here was indeed far more extreme than in Japan.
Japanese tracks—whether turf or dirt—are generally firmer. During maintenance, they're compacted with rollers and other equipment.
As a result, Umamusume run slightly faster on them, and the amount of grass clippings, dirt, and sand kicked up is relatively small.
But in Europe, America, Dubai, and other regions, tracks are much closer to natural conditions—looser and softer. It's completely normal for mud and sand to fly everywhere when running.
And Umamusume aren't horses. Even the tallest are only around two meters, yet their leg strength matches that of racehorses.
That means when they run, the debris that would only reach a horse's chest can completely cover an Umamusume from head to toe.
From the stands, the distance makes it hard to see clearly. But up close—like now—it's obvious: if you're running behind, you're guaranteed to get showered in mud from those ahead.
In official races, it's even more extreme. No matter how glamorous an Umamusume looks during the parade ring, after one race, she'll inevitably be covered in dirt—like she's rolled around in mud.
That's why in many overseas races, especially in the United States where dirt tracks dominate, even the winner has to go wash up and change clothes before heading to the award ceremony.
But explaining all of this right now wouldn't help much. Even if he did, Almond Eye would probably still be jumping in frustration.
So, watching Kitasan Black endure the flying mud on the track, a trace of sympathy rising in his heart, Makoto quickly thought and said:
"No problem. I'll go file a complaint with the hotel later."
"But I feel like… Kitasan Black isn't actually being affected by this."
"If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself."
Hearing Makoto say he would go file a complaint, Almond Eye immediately felt much more at ease.
But when she heard what he said next, she froze for a moment, then hurriedly looked back toward the track.
At that moment, Makoto continued:
"Her breathing has indeed become much shorter—almost the same as during a full sprint. That definitely increases her stamina consumption."
"But the key point is, her breathing hasn't fallen into disorder."
"Her arm swing, stride frequency, and stride length are all still stable. She hasn't lost her rhythm because of this kind of dirt track condition," he emphasized, before continuing:
"So your senpai's race… is still going."
"She hasn't given up. She's… still fighting."
As Makoto explained, Almond Eye's eyes widened once again.
But this time, what shone within them was no longer frustration or worry—it was admiration and excitement.
They had already been training together for quite some time. During every session, Almond Eye couldn't help but want to compete with Kitasan Black—she had even said so out loud before.
Her senpai would always respond in that carefree, cheerful way, readily accepting the challenge—and then, with overwhelming strength and experience, defeat her completely.
Senpai really is amazing… but… once I grow stronger, debut, and go through many races, I'll become just as strong as her.
No—I'll become even stronger than her.
Almond Eye had thought that many times.
But this impromptu practice race—seeing Kitasan Black as she was now—made her suddenly realize that there were some things about her senpai that she… might never surpass.
In Almond Eye's eyes, Kitasan Black looked utterly disheveled.
Fine grains of dirt clung to her familiar face. Sweat mixed with mud slid down her cheeks. Her hair was stuck together by dirt, messy strands plastered against her forehead.
Her red-and-white training outfit had almost lost its original color, covered in blotches of mud, looking worn and ragged—as if it had been picked out of a trash heap.
And yet, amid all that disarray, those crimson eyes shone brilliantly, radiating a दृtermination so strong it could be seen at a glance.
Every step she took was steady and powerful, without even the slightest hesitation.
At this moment, senpai no longer looked like just a racing Umamusume.
She looked like a warrior—like a hero cutting through obstacles and forging ahead.
Yes… a fearless warrior.
Almond Eye suddenly understood.
Her senpai… had always been like this.
No matter what she faced, no matter what kind of race it was, she would never give up.
I'm competitive—people say that all the time, and I think so too.
But senpai… she's the one who is truly competitive.
She just doesn't say it out loud. Instead, she overcomes every hardship, defeats every opponent—and in the end… wins everything.
With that realization, Almond Eye couldn't help but grab the railing again, bouncing up and down.
"Go… go!! Kita-senpai! Charge!!"
Facing the track, she shouted at the top of her lungs.