As silence stretched across the racecourse...
Nothing remained but sheer focused gazes, steady breathing.
And the occasional drip of sweat falling from the participants onto the track.
Ahead of them, the starting gate stood like a barrier, keeping them waiting for the official beginning.
Then—
"Get ready, participants..." The announcer's voice suddenly broadcast throughout the track.
Instantly, every racer tensed their muscles, ready with their eyes locked forward.
"...Set..."
Their gaze sharpened further now, and...
"...GO!"
*Bang!*
The gates burst open.
Immediately, every Umamusume exploded from the starting line.
Each searched for her own rhythm, her own position.
Executing the pacing strategies they had tenaciously prepared
The field quickly spread out as runners settled into their preferred styles.
At the same time, from the stands—
The familiar trio leaned over the stand.
"Let's go, Urara!"
"You can do it!"
"Show them what you've got!" And their cheers plowed across the track.
Among the pack, the small pink-haired runner sprinted with everything she had.
She was doing her best to keep pace with everyone around her.
"I can do it...!" She muttered to herself.
Meanwhile—
Far away from the cheering section, Ishida had also begun his steps.
Instead of watching the race, his attention was placed elsewhere.
Toward the audience.
And more specifically...
Toward the trainers.
His footsteps clomped softly through the stands as he walked from one section to another.
He carefully surveyed the crowd, searching for someone. Anyone.
A trainer who looked interested enough.
Or desperate enough... to hear him out.
That was his assignment today.
First, strike up conversations.
Present Urara's case.
And somehow...
Convince someone to give her a chance.
Or at least that was what was devised within his head...
...
...
...
Several minutes into the race...
Ishida had already spotted a few potential candidates.
But right now, it was the one in the closest proximity to him.
A trainer who was engrossed in the event with his fists curled before him.
Watching the race with an intense expression as if he were ready to scout a new talent.
Without wasting another second, Ishida smoothly adjusted his shirt and approached him...
...
...
...
Meanwhile, back on the track—
Urara continued running with all her might.
This time...
She looked noticeably better than before.
Her form was steadier.
Her breathing was far more controlled.
She was no longer being left hopelessly behind from the very beginning.
Instead—
She had managed to stay with the pack, even if she still occupied the very last position.
She was, at the very least... keeping up.
At the same time, just as Ishida was about to approach the engrossed trainer who hadn't even noticed him—
From the stands, King cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted,
"Keep going, Urara!"
"Just like that!"
"Keep up with the pack!"
Instantly, Ishida stopped... King's voice somehow had reached him.
And almost instinctively, he turned back toward the track.
Landing directly back on Urara.
And the moment his eyes did—
His pupils gleamed, trembled even slightly.
And he froze.
Completely stunned from halfway to the trainer.
There...
He saw...
Urara was continuously pushing to keep up with the pack.
Trying with all her might to catch up, despite her body failing to answer the call...
Yet...
There was... something....
Something unsettlingly familiar about that sight.
Something on the track that kept him frozen in place.
Something he thought he had forgotten...
Something...
Then—
A sharp ringing filled his ears.
The sounds of the track around him slowly faded away.
The present dissolved, replaced by another sound.
It was muffled at first.
But then, the roar of another racecourse emerged.
It was bigger, louder.
And gradually it became clearer.
More vivid.
As the commentator's voice suddenly boomed, "Here comes Northern Dancer!"
"She's charging ahead of everyone else!"
"Out of the final stretch, she's clearly taking the lead!"
In the middle of the track, it was no longer Urara, but rather someone...
Someone he used to...
...he used to...
...train?
Meanwhile, the memory's commentator continued with sheer tenacity, riling up the crowd as people cheered wildly.
"Is she about to claim her very first victory?!"
"What a miraculous Umamusume!"
"She's getting closer!"
"Closer to the finish line!"
"Can she do it?!"
"Can Northern Dancer seize her first victory today?!"
"Can she make history in her debut race in our local course?!"
"Can she cross the finish line before—?!"
"BEFORE—?!"
The world slowed once more...
In the center of it all, a younger Ishida remained...
His hands were thrown high in the air, his voice breaking as he shouted with utter exhilaration.
Cheering for that Umamusume as she finally crossed the finish line.
As she claimed her very first victory under his... guidance.
A sensation he thought...
...he thought...
...he thought he had...
...he had...
...lost forever...?
...
...
...
Suddenly—
As quickly as it came, Ishida snapped back to reality, his breath catching in his throat.
The sound of the present track returned.
The racecourse of Tracen once again spread before his eyes.
And his gaze remained fixed on a single runner, Urara.
The same girl who, only moments ago, had managed to stay with the pack.
Now...
She was struggling.
Her breathing had grown heavier.
Her stride was beginning to falter.
Little by little—
The distance widened as the others steadily pulled away.
Leaving the small pink figure behind once again.
There, the trio frowned instantly.
Amongst them, King muttered in worry, "Urara..."
Whereas Ishida remained rooted where he stood, unable to look away.
Until—
"Who's that pink-haired girl?!"
It was the same trainer he was about to approach, blurting out in disbelief.
"How is she struggling that much already?"
"We haven't even reached the homestretch yet!"
"What kind of endurance is that?" He scowled.
"And here I thought this academy was meant for the best..."
"Not some mediocre performance!"
Those harsh words immediately landed squarely in Ishida's ears.
Ishida froze, staring at the man in sheer surprise.
Realizing he had been just a single step away from walking straight into a disaster.
Seeing that, with a heavy sigh, Ishida quietly turned away.
Knowing there was no point in asking him after that reaction...
But he wasn't going to give up just yet. He still believed there had to be someone.
Someone who might view Urara with a different approach.
And so he went to another.
And another.
And another.
But...
Urara's performance wasn't making his task any easier.
As Urara continued to fall further behind, the critical conversations only spread louder through the stands.
The hopeful expressions from most of the trainers Ishida had seen before the race had largely disappeared.
They were no longer evaluating her.
They were already deciding her value, and many of them were already moving on.
Meanwhile, midway through the search, Ishida stumbled upon a group of trainers.
"...Didn't she do better than last time?" One trainer folded his arms.
"Yeah," another nodded. "I can clearly tell."
"Her stamina has improved."
"Her pace is more stable, too."
"But..."
He looked back toward the track.
"She still can't keep up with the others."
A third trainer shrugged. "Well, improvement is improvement. I'll give her that."
Then the first trainer asked,
"But do you honestly think she'll ever win?"
No one answered immediately.
Finally—
One trainer sighed. "At this rate..."
"Even regional racers perform better than her."
"Let's speculate she keeps improving..."
"...she'll probably spend her career strictly on the regional circuit."
"With this performance, The Twinkle Series is simply..."
"...beyond her."
The dismissive words reached Ishida once again.
He then turned back toward the track.
His eyes settled on Urara once more.
There, far down the track, Urara's form was already beginning to break down.
Her breathing had become heavily uneven.
With every stride, she lost a little more composure.
Yet...
She kept running.
She continued chasing after the pack.
Not once did she look like she intended to give up.
She simply ran.
Like someone refusing to accept the fate laid before her.
As though believing—
That if she just kept moving...
If she just endured a little longer...
She would eventually catch up.
Seeing that, Ishida slowly clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"Urara..." He sighed.
"Damn it! Let's... try one more time," he muttered to himself.
Without another thought, he resumed walking.
Scanning the stands. Moving from one trainer to another.
Only to overhear more of the same harsh judgment.
The same cruel dismissals.
None of them saw a single reason to recruit Urara.
None of them believed she truly belonged here.
With every contradiction, Ishida felt a heavy weight settling deeper in his chest.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
As the race pressed on, not only was Urara's energy visibly depleting, but so was Ishida's resolve.
Simultaneously, their progress slowed to a crawl.
One was lagging further from the pack, and the other was distancing himself further from the audience.
Eventually, Ishida found himself in a desolate section of the stands, a dead-end segment filled with empty seats.
With the final gaze at the spot, eventually, he let out a deep sigh.
With a final, lingering gaze at the track, he let out a deep, defeated sigh.
He slumped down into one of the empty chairs, ready to call it a defeat.
Ready to give up on it all.
In a logical sense, based on Urara's performance today, the likelihood of someone taking an interest in her had dropped to near zero.
Perhaps straight to zero.
This was an elite institution after all; someone with her apparent lack of ability was bound to be disqualified eventually.
And so...
Ishida finally succumbed to his unfruitful search, "...What's the point of all this?" he slumped on the seat helplessly.
"What am I even trying to prove now...?"
"As a matter of fact, why am I even trying in the first place...?"
"Even with Urara giving everything she has..."
"The result never changes."
"And honestly..." He sighed bitterly.
"I don't blame them."
His tired eyes drifted back toward the track.
"Urara really is..."
"...out of this academy's league."
"Her lack of stamina, her lack of speed, her lack of endurance."
"One flaw stacking on top of another..."
"It's downright absurd to believe someone would recruit her at this point..."
He let out another heavy breath.
"Might as well just..."
"...call it a quit..."
"Who else would've—"
Suddenly—
A quiet voice reached his ears.
"Go..."
It came from a lone woman sitting in a nearby seat.
Dressed with the unmistakable get-up of a...
...trainer?
Ishida couldn't be entirely sure.
But she continued, her voice trembling with restrained intensity. "You can do it..."
Her fists were tightly clenched in her lap.
"You can do it, Number 9!"
"Catch up to them!"
Ishida's eyes immediately snapped toward the track.
The moment he did, his pupils widened.
That Number 9.
Number 9 was... Urara.
Was that woman cheering for Urara?
Was she actually supporting her...?
But...
Why...?
He slowly turned back to study the female spectator.
Confusion spread across his face.
Out of everyone here in this elite crowd—
Why her?
His thoughts halted.
Then, he slowly shook his head.
No.
It didn't matter.
Not anymore.
This...
This was his chance.
A genuine opportunity, sitting right in front of him.
He couldn't afford to waste it.
Not now.
He had to act, and he had to do it now while she was still invested.
Without hesitating any longer, Ishida straightened the wrinkles on his shirt.
He took one deep breath.
Then another.
"...Alright."
Muttering to himself, he stepped forward with renewed purpose.
Meanwhile—
"Come on..." The female spectator quietly cheered under her breath.
Her fists subtly tightened as she watched Urara.
"You can do it..."
Just then, before she even realized—
Ishida spoke.
"So..."
The woman turned slightly at the sound of his voice.
"You're supporting Number 9?"
"W-What?!" She visibly jumped in surprise.
Her eyes widened as she hurriedly turned toward him.
"Who-Who are you?!"
Ishida raised both hands slightly in a placating gesture.
"Calm-Calm down..." He gave a small, apologetic smile.
"I-I'm just... passing through."