Seeing her shake like that, a thought slipped out of my mouth—a genuine, unfiltered observation.
"Rice Shower... you're a High School student?!"
"...Huh?"
I had said it. I had said something so rude I wouldn't have blamed her if she'd sent me flying with a dropkick.
The Kikuka-sho is one of the three G1 races that make up the "Classic Triple Crown." To run in the Triple Crown, you have to be in the Classic class. Which meant the girl in front of me was older than Urara. She was a senior student.
The Satsuki-sho (April, 2000m), the Tokyo Yushun—better known as the Japanese Derby (May, 2400m), and the Kikuka-sho (October, 3000m). A girl who wins all three is a "Triple Crown Horse Girl." It's a feat achieved by only a handful of legends, like Symboli Rudolf, the current student council president.
Because these races are so prestigious, every participant is a powerhouse. Winning even one is an immortal honor.
And yet, at that moment, I was less concerned with G1 glory and more paralyzed by the fact that Rice Shower was in the High School division. Standing next to Urara, they'd look like twins. She was so petite and timid that I'd honestly pegged her as a middle schooler—or younger.
(Rice Shower... the girl who won this year's Kikuka-sho... The photos match. It's really her.)
Because Urara focuses on the dirt sprint and mile circuits, I was completely ignorant of the long-distance turf stars. Until Urara won her Pre-Maiden, I'd spent all my time researching dirt sprinters. I'd only just begun looking into higher-class competitors. Between training and research, there simply weren't enough hours in the day to keep up with the turf world.
(Damn it, I've been so focused on Urara that I completely missed the Classic season... even when I talk to Kiryuin, we only talk about Happy Meek being in the Junior class...)
I felt a pang of guilt. I'd been like a workaholic salaryman who loses track of the world outside his office. I'd spend my free time agonizing over Urara's training menus or inventing new types of carrot hamburgers for her.
I shook off the daze and scrolled through my phone until I found the race footage for this year's Kikuka-sho. I pressed play.
"Whoa... you really are in here. Wait, you were the second favorite? That's incredible..."
To be the second favorite in a G1 race meant she was terrifyingly strong. Rice Shower looked incredibly uncomfortable watching herself on my screen.
It was hard to reconcile the girl sipping carrot juice with the one on the screen: clad in a pitch-black, dress-like racing suit, standing at the gate with an aura of silent intensity.
The race began—the final leg of the Triple Crown.
The top favorite, Mihono Bourbon, took the lead early, with Rice Shower and the others in hot pursuit. According to the commentary, Mihono Bourbon was undefeated and looking to secure the Triple Crown.
(Turf girls really are on another level... everyone's form is perfect. And this Mihono Bourbon... undefeated and two crowns down? She's Rudolf-tier.)
She was clearly one of Tracen's elite. I watched as they hit the final straight. But then, I noticed something off.
(Wait... is Mihono Bourbon not suited for long distances? She's fast, but she looks like she's hitting a wall...)
Her face was a mask, but I could tell—her stamina was flagging. Having spent so much time with the old, low-stamina Urara, I had a sixth sense for when a girl was running on fumes.
Then, emerging from her shadow like a blade of obsidian, came the black-clad girl.
(Rice is making her move from behind... oh... oh! OHHH!)
Bourbon tried to hold the lead; Rice surged to overtake. Machikane Tannhauser was giving it her all, but she couldn't close the gap between the lead pair. I nearly shouted as the camera caught Rice Shower's face.
"This is..."
It was visceral.
Even through a tiny screen, her resolve was bone-chilling. I will catch her. I will win. Every girl on that track was desperate, but Rice's spirit was on a different plane entirely.
Rice Shower blew past her, crossing the finish line in first place. A genuine murmur of awe escaped my lips.
"...That was incredible."
"Eh?"
The scale of the screen didn't matter; the sheer power of her stride was undeniable. She had marked the favorite from start to finish and sniped the win at the perfect moment. Speed, stamina, explosive power, positioning—and above all, that terrifying will to win.
The girl in the video was a stranger to the one sitting in the infirmary. And yet, I felt a deep swell of admiration.
"You're amazing... Seriously, that was world-class. Taking down an undefeated Triple Crown contender like that? And that fire in your eyes... man, I love that intensity."