Uma Musume: To The Top!! Chapter 44 - 156

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Up in the stands, Kuroha's expression turned a touch odd.

From his high vantage point he clearly saw it—the eerie red gleam creeping off Through Odina, spilling over onto Inari One, and how that made Inari reflexively huff in stress from start to finish.

"So it's a debuffer… I thought this world didn't have them…"

A "debuffer" (what folks used to call a "red-skill runner") is, as the na implies, a horse girl who specializes in interference.

In the ga from my previous life, it ant those who learned the red debuff skills—various negative effects that sap others' speed or stamina.

They're usually fielded as support pieces for a team's main ace.

The most famous debuffer will be—well, in the near future. Practically tomorrow in racing terms.

A certain classmate very likely to bloom in the sa era as Teio—Nice Nature.

Of course, history has also seen horse girls who both possessed this "bewitching" talent and had the makings to stand at the pinnacle of an age.

Kuroha actually knows one like that.

The "Emperor"—Rudolf.

But the one out there today, this Through Odina, is clearly not a half-debuffer like the Emperor.

She can bother others with that strange talent, sure, but she doesn't have the raw strength to crush everyone head-on.

Her overall level is so-so; even her debuffing isn't that outstanding—nowhere near enough to truly shake Inari One.

Inari's stress response was just because this kind of "bewitching" talent is so rare. She's never t it before, so she got jumpy and overthought it.

"This kind of talent probably only exists on this Through Odina among the current generation… Still, I should start paying attention to ntal developnt in training."

Kuroha mulled it over.

After all, even if it's rare now, a historically famous "god-horse" will be born next year.

If only for Teio and McQueen, he ought to prioritize this growth vector.

Ti slid by. The pack cleanly cleared the first corner and poured onto the straight.

That ant the brief, bruising fight for position in the opening phase had ended; the race was entering the midga—the part that tests endurance and wits the most.

On the track, Super Creek's form was textbook-perfect.

She ran tight along the inner rail, shaving every possible ter.

Her breathing was long and even; her cadence tuned to a near-perfect, energy-saving rhythm.

"The pace shouldn't be sitting at this rate—it should be faster."

"Inari One's position… also inner rail, back half of the group—sa old late-surge plan."

Creek murmured inwardly, starlight flowing behind her eyes.

Track distance, wind speed, rivals' positions, her own stamina burn—

a million data points scrolled across her retinas, processed by a brain built for on-the-fly modeling, and resolved into the crispest commands for her body.

Like Obey Your Master, Super Creek is a horse girl who excels at out-of-board tactics and instant analysis—a pure data-flow runner.

To her, a race is the act of turning a seemingly chaotic lee into a solvable equation—and then finding the optimal solution.

"First I need to apply 'free-run pressure,' make the leader gradually choose to accelerate, drag this into a battle of attrition, and pull everything into my tempo."

Decision set, she didn't hesitate.

DONG—!

A heavy beat exploded underhoof.

Her tronomic cadence made a subtle shift—just enough to start reeling in Free Run at a steady rate.

Two lengths… a length and a half…

In a heartbeat, the pacesetter Free Run felt the pressure pounding from behind—

that steady, weighty drum of hooves thudding closer, each beat like a knock on the heart—nearer, clearer.

Did my tempo drop?

For a natural front-runner, that shadowing pressure prickled her nerves.

Her stride quickened a hair on instinct, trying to restore the cushion that made her feel safe.

In the stands, Fumino's clenched fist eased half a notch, the corner of her lips tilting in the slightest arc.

Beside her, Kuroha's brows knit by a fraction.

"An attrition plan… bold call."

Sacrifice a slice of the opening and midrace stamina to forcibly pull the entire race pace upward.

Take a grueling 3200 ters and ratchet it into a white-hot burn from the gun.

But when you're one of the runners on the course, it's hard to notice that kind of difference.

Who would expect soone in a 3200-ter war to volunteer to push the speed?

Back in mid-pack, Inari One sensed the sa subtle warp in tempo—the unseen tug urging everyone forward made her muscles tingle with eager itch.

She only clicked her tongue and crushed the impulse to chase.

"This kind of pace-induction is nothing compared to March and Ai."

She drew a deep breath, ignored the ever-hotter fight up front, and stubbornly held her neither-fast-nor-slow rhythm.

"But having this kind of opponent in the field? Now that's exciting!"

The corner of Inari's mouth edged up into a feral grin.

"Is it you, Super Creek?!"

"And that nasty little bug who ssed with before…"

"Run. Run your hearts out."

"The only constant… is that Inari-sama will, in the endga—grind you all into dust."

The scorching (money-money) tracer-light caged itself in her pupils, painting the head-lowered Inari like a beast from the abyss.

A face half-eaten by shadow; only a pair of pale-green eyes, flooded with dense crimson, remained—

like a demon god surveying her domain.

Soon, the pack approached the third corner.

This was the keystone of Super Creek's plan—the only uphill in the midrace.

Kyoto Racecourse is fad for its undulating slopes, especially the extra-long rise after the third turn—

the most punishing stretch of all, nicknad "(garbled in source)."

Even central-circuit horse girls struggle here, misjudging effort and botching stamina allotnt.

But Super Creek is different.

She's the era's top long-distance runner.

Not only is her stamina superior, she trusts the cornering techniques she's drilled to dance this climb perfectly.

(End of Chapter)

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