Morning at Gildune Manor.
With the battle period over, there was no more pre-race tension—and no shrill alarm clock, either.
The room was quiet. The only sound was the hush of sunlight slipping through the gap in the curtains, a single beam falling at a slant across the carpet.
"Rustle…"
On the bed, soone's mind was still a muddled ss.
Nase Fumino sat up groggily, her short, shoulder-length hair sticking out in a ssy halo. The loose silk pajama top she wore had gone slack at the collar; with that small sitting motion, it silently slid down to her upper arms.
In an instant, a wide expanse of pale, smooth skin was exposed to the cool air. Her clean, rounded shoulders glead with an ivory sheen in the morning light, the delicate dip of her collarbones sharply defined.
"Mmm…"
Fumino lifted a hand and rubbed her sleepy eyes. She looked completely blank, just staring at the air in front of her like her brain had been wiped clean.
It took her a full few minutes before she sluggishly processed it—
The race was already over. Oguri Cap had won. And the next few days were all vacation.
"Yaaawn…"
She stretched lazily, not bothering to fix the collar that had slipped down. Still drowsy, she threw off the blanket, stepped into her slippers, and pushed open the door to go wash up.
The mont she stepped outside—
"Morning, Trainer-san~"
A gentle, energetic voice drifted over.
Fumino looked up. In the hallway ahead, Super Creek had a slice of toast held between her lips, a cup of milk in hand, looking bright-eyed and full of life.
"Mornin'… Creek…"
Fumino's greeting ca out weak and airy. As a trainer, her schedule was obviously nowhere near as regular as her own Umamusu's.
They chatted idly for a couple of lines, then went downstairs together.
The first-floor hall was quiet, too.
But there was a figure over by the sofa.
Kuroha was sitting there, a little girl in his arms.
The two of them—one big, one small—were leaning in close, staring at the phone screen in Kuroha's hand.
"What're you watching?" Fumino asked, a little curious. Without thinking, she lightened her footsteps as she walked over.
When she got closer, she caught Kuroha's voice.
"This one—Star-chan, what color is this to you?"
Kuroha's tone was gentle, patient.
The little girl they called Star-chan stared without blinking, her obsidian-like eyes fixed on the screen.
What was playing wasn't a cartoon, but old race footage—clips from the Chasing Light team's past, recordings of Star's Umamusu.
Right now, it was Fujimasa March's final sprint in the Mile Championship.
Star-chan tilted her head and answered softly, "It's wind… silver-white wind…"
"And this one?" Kuroha swiped, switching to three different fras.
It was Obey Your Master at the Nichiboku Cup—standing there like a king presiding over everything.
"Uu…"
"A black sky… full of stars…"
And then Fumino heard the child's faint, drifting murmurs.
"Really big flas…"
Fumino stood at the foot of the stairs, completely lost.
She sneaked a look at the phone screen. It was just normal race footage, wasn't it?
Wind, fire—what was this kid even talking about?
Probably just playing a 'describe the picture' ga with her, Fumino thought, and didn't pay it much mind. She turned and headed for the downstairs bathroom with Creek.
At the sink, Fumino squeezed toothpaste onto her brush and mumbled through her reflection, voice thick and unclear.
"That Kuroha… he's in a seriously good mood. Up bright and early, already teasing a kid."
"Feels like once Oguri Cap won, he finally let himself relax."
Outside the bathroom, Creek—who'd been smiling with her hands clasped behind her back—paused.
"Maybe… he isn't playing, Yingxi-kun," Creek said softly.
"Huh?" Fumino's mouth was full of foam. She turned her head, puzzled. "What do you an?"
Creek didn't explain right away.
She just glanced toward the hall again, then let out a quiet, thoughtful sigh.
"Maybe that child… will beco soone who shocks the whole world soday. Who knows?"
Hearing that, Fumino more or less understood.
From Creek's perspective—and the others'—they probably weren't seeing the sa thing she was.
She blinked, thought for a mont, rinsed her mouth, then tilted her head toward Creek.
"Whether he's playing or not… if she's going to be Kuroha's next star Umamusu, shaking the world is basically inevitable, right?"
"…Yeah~" Creek froze for a split second, then broke into a smile.
…
On the sofa in the hall, Kuroha had no idea what was being said in the bathroom.
"This one is… so, so many cherry blossoms…"
"I see…"
After the last clip—footage from Sakura Chiyono O—Kuroha finally turned off the phone and gently patted the little girl's soft hair.
Once he'd confird what he suspected, he let out a long breath. Deep in his eyes, a trace of helplessness flickered.
[Haito Star](Temporary)
[Surface Aptitude: Turf A, Dirt A]
[Distance Aptitude: Short B, Mile A, dium A, Long A]
[Running Style Aptitude: Front Runner B, Pace Chaser A, Late Surger A, End Closer A]
[Unique Skill: Witness the Mont the Stars Shine Lv. 1]
[Domain: Awakening]
[Skills: Corner Adept, Highlander]
[Speed: 74, Stamina: 88, Power: 74, Gut: 92, Wit: 103]
How was this even remotely reasonable…?
Staring at the system panel—at Haito Star's attribute list—Kuroha felt like his soul had left his body.
Originally, both the [Unique Skill] and [Domain] fields had displayed [None].
But last night, while watching Oguri Cap's Winning Live, the little girl had suddenly blurted out, wide-eyed—
"Kuroha-nii, why was that big sister in second place giving off black smoke?"
That was when Kuroha realized sothing was wrong.
Other than him, an Umamusu without a [Domain] shouldn't be able to see what existed under a [Domain] at all.
After that, he'd reflexively opened Haito Star's status panel—and saw these outrageous stats.
"So this is the talent of the world's strongest echelon of Umamusu…" Kuroha mused, handing the little girl a cookie.
"As ti goes on… how far will she grow on her own?"
"If Haito Star is already like this, then what about Secretariat, Van Gaal… even Eclipse? Just how absurd would their gifts be?"
…
Discovering Haito Star's shocking talent was only a side note.
Ti moved on.
With the Irish Champion Stakes concluded, that brutal battle in a heavy track didn't fade away with the drying rain.
Instead, it spread like a storm—sweeping across all of Europe.
The next day, nearly every major Umamusu newspaper ran the sa photo on the front page.
A gray-haired girl, caked in mud, and behind her—three European top elites, blurred like re background.
"A MONSTER FROM THE FAR EAST!"
"THE MIRACLE OF LEOPARDSTOWN—OGURI CAP!"
Sensational headlines erupted one after another.
For a while, countless eyes fixed on the team from the Far East.
And because Kuroha had already submitted the entry form for the G1 Maniel Stakes so ti ago, a lot of people also knew their next stop would be France.
…
A few days later, Gildune Manor.
After several days of recovery, Oguri Cap and the others had regained their energy, spirits full and sharp again.
In the hall, several suitcases sat open. Everyone was sorting and packing for the trip to France.
That was when a knock ca at the villa's front door.
The visitor was a middle-aged man in a dark suit, hair combed perfectly into place.
"Kuroha-san. I've heard so much about you."
He wore a practiced, professional smile as he handed over a gold-embossed business card. "I'm Aemon, a board mber of the French Umamusu Association."
"The French Association?" Kuroha's brows knit slightly, but he nodded and led him into the sitting room.
After a few polite pleasantries and taking their seats, Aemon didn't waste ti with small talk. He went straight to the point.
"Kuroha-san, I'm here today to offer a sincere invitation—on behalf of the Association, and the many European fans eager for a spectacular race."
Aemon leaned forward slightly, speaking with earnest intensity.
"We hope your star Umamusu, Oguri Cap-san, will participate in the race being held at Longchamp next month at the beginning of the month—"
"—the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe."
Hearing that na, Fumino—who was folding clothes a short distance away—froze mid-motion and snapped her head up.
"I know the race is less than twenty days away," Aemon continued, "and that the standard entry window has long since closed. Even the late-entry registration period closed not long ago."
"But considering Oguri Cap-san's astonishing performance at the Irish Champion Stakes, we've already discussed it internally."
"We can open a temporary supplental registration channel for Oguri Cap-san."
"And if you're willing to participate, the Association can handle the troubleso fees and procedures for you—work everything out on our end."
"Kuroha-san, just imagine it."
"A monster who's just conquered Ireland—then, only half a month later, conquers Europe's highest honor at the Arc."
"Wouldn't that be a legendary script, one that belongs in the history books?"
"…"
Kuroha sat opposite him, listening quietly to the long pitch, eyes narrowed but expression unreadable.
Compared to the Central URA Association, the French Umamusu Association was clearly more mature and well-run.
What Central had dragged its feet on for over a year to barely implent—"late-entry registration"—France had already been doing for ages.
And in a special case like Oguri Cap's, they'd even revised their decision in just a few days, opened a temporary channel, all for the sake of making the race more thrilling.
Respectable, honestly.
But…
"Aemon-san's proposal is definitely tempting," Kuroha said, lifting his teacup and taking a small sip, voice steady. "However, the Arc is a world-class event. And with ti so tight, we'll need to consider it carefully."
"Of course, of course." Aemon wasn't discouraged by the lack of an imdiate answer. He nodded quickly.
"You still have three days before the last possible deadline for the supplental registration we can secure. We're happy to wait for your decision at any ti."
"And naturally—even if you decide not to participate, we still hope to maintain a good relationship with you."
With the power European Umamusu associations held, it would be easy for them to dig up Kuroha's career record.
One year to conquer the locals, another year to conquer Central.
Then, only two months into an overseas expedition, he'd already taken the Irish Champion Stakes and a heavyweight G1.
Anyone with eyes could see it: one day, he was bound to beco a world-class trainer.
Keeping that relationship was necessary.
Who knew? Maybe soday he wouldn't want to stay in Central. Maybe he'd co develop in Europe instead—and then their own talented girls would need him to lead them.
(End of Chapter)
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