The weather today, was not of the best suited conditions to race for a sprinter. The track for this G2 race was damp, and not at all in good to firm condition. Rather, it was heavy. And heavy track conditions would make this a nightmare to perform under.
Yet with a blessing, Bold Edge, an expected competitor and likely victor in today's Sandown temple stakes, would not compete. Rather, an inexperienced Uma Musume would take her place. As Perryston View was currently relaxing her legs, stretching them out.
Today was another sprint, as per usual. However, today was her first G2 race. Though unsure, she would try to perform at her best, even though having suffered a terrible loss at the Victor Chandler Palace House Stakes just mere weeks prior. That had been a G3 race, and she had placed fourteenth out of the twenty one people participating.
It had been a blunder, though having led the first three furlongs of that race, she had lost her stride and ended up not even achieving the top ten, weakening for the last two furlongs. As she gazed her eyes around the other nine competitors of today's race, she recognised three of them.
Proud Native, who had placed fifteenth, as well as Rambling Bear and Bolshoi who each were in the top ten of her previous graded race. However, there was a foreign face. One that she couldn't place her finger on. As she pondered for a moment.
"Is that who is taking the place of Bold Edge today..?" As she questioned Proud Native, nudging her slightly. Yet even Proud Native, her friend just shrugged. "Probably, she seems like quite the fledgling, unlike you my friend." Giving off a light chuckle at the expense of Perryston, a joke considering that Perryston View had already competed in over forty races.
"I don't think I have seen her before today. You think she will do well?" However, Perryston just took in the posture of that interesting person, noticing their almost lacking expression before just dismissing her friend's question that had been asked. Perryston herself hadn't received much information on the new Uma Musume who had taken the place of Bold Edge.
All that she knew of this foreign looking individual was that this was their first graded race, and furthermore was their second ever race they were competing in after their win at their maiden race. Nothing more, nothing less when it came to information surrounding them. Not that important in most regards compared to the people around her.
It was currently five past three. That's what she had heard at least from asking another competitor. As they all just stood around or stretched their limbs out whilst having some of their own individual chats amongst themselves before officially beginning minutes later. "Tch, I hope I don't trip over. I would retire immediately if that happened."
A light chuckle came from her best friend, before directing her attention elsewhere, when a voice came over from the stands, it was the announcers' own speech as he was now to declare the beginning. The start of the G2 Tripleprint Temple Stakes, as the track was heavy for today's condition. Still soiled from the earlier weather. A moment of silence came.
Temporary. Parched. Then the track's gates unwound within an instant, as a flurry of bodies shot out from the stalls. The runner who took the lead, holding her own against the dreadful terrain, was Perryston herself. An experienced turf sprinter and thus had taken the place of leader. With Proud Native and Rambling trailing behind her, one was hugging the rail, the other chasing after her own friend.
Mud flew from the soles of their feet, yet stuck in the crevices of their soles. As a rumbling cacophony of wet, and moist turf track flew past under them, falling into the background similarly to how those who would end up would too when losing the race. And yet as their shoes sunk lightly into the dampened terrain, they pushed back harder, trying to accelerate faster.
However, it would not be long, only a furlong in, until someone began to have themselves be unrestrained from their constraints. Perryston herself could feel it. The eminence of something that was coming. It was not breathing that she had taken note of that led to that presumption, it was of the hastened pace of footsteps. A pair of hooves that pierced the ground. Too controlled, too harsh, and yet it was the loudest sound emanating in the air.
Someone, would take the stage by their grasp, pulling the strings forward to become the main star. Kincsem would cease from becoming a background character. The others surrounding her? They had ceased to exist in her sight.
She wasn't here to win on this track. She was going to carve out the heart of Gaia herself, and take claimants to this sport. Victory wasn't enough, it needed something more. It needed idolisation, worship. A sport that was not just a hobby, but life's work. Where people had devoted themselves to the art of running. Till it led to even the ruin of oneself.
Kincsem began to lower herself. Closer, as close to the ground as she physically could for now in this body of hers. Shoulders, stilled, her chin tucked and her arms driving themselves forward like pistons. Stretching out her hind legs to make up as much space on the track. Every footfall planting themselves with precision, yet propelling herself through soaked turf.
The ringing of cheers, and her opponent's own breaths began to fade, leaving everything but herself in a world of her own design. What laid,
The art of racing was serene. Where grace met speed, and speed met violence. All paths had violence lead to victory. To glory. Every person's form was unique in their own way. That included Kincsem herself, yet with her form was the essence of something close to chasing perfection.
Every stride. Every breath, everything was being fine tuned. Forged, Refined, Galvanised. A creature more perfect than Victor's creation. Made to fit in accordance with one another and oiled together to make the perfect form. One that was reckless, and yet was in its own ideal, an art. A violent one. A graceful one. A juxtaposition.
Soon, a gap had formed between herself, and the competition. From what became of her being within the middle of the pack, it grew. It grew from half a length, to one. From one length to two, and it did not stop.
The lead would continue to increase. Inching forwards, limping on. It wouldn't stop. Five lengths. Ten lengths. Fifteen lengths. Hundreds of metres passing by, and yet no redemption, no comeback, no weakening by this monster. Time was merciless, watching on and yet not acting upon this scene, turning away and marching forward.
A minute. That was how long the race lasted till the winner was announced. To be exact, slightly over sixty one seconds. A time, which could be considered below average for a sprint, if not to consider that it was on heavy terrain. Because between herself and the rest, it was over fifteen lengths.
Onlookers stared with their jaws agape. Fellow competitors felt true despair. The announcer was silent, until they proclaimed the victory of this year's Temple Stakes to be Kincsem. Nobody would have expected this outcome, not out of a rookie. Not out of someone whose initial maiden race however being fast could be seen as being beginners luck.
There was no excuse. It wasn't that there was a pace suicide, or that she was in the wrong classification of a race. This was her second race after all. However, what it assured to the onlookers who were graced with watching this race, was that this was the coming of someone who'd either burn themselves out like a shining star, or lead the new millennia. Leading the next generation.