67 - Episode 11: Fortitude Does Not Give Up ⑨ ~The Arima Kinen Begins~
As the fanfare echoes, the horses enter the gates one by one.
While waiting for his turn, Later checked the final odds on the display board and gave a wry smile, lightly patting Fortitude's neck. He was dressed in yellow and red racing silks, and despite the crash course, he had the look of a jockey.
"Look at these final odds, Forti. Win bet is 13 silver and 7 copper. This is hilarious, hey. Just as planned, 18th favorite, the absolute biggest long shot. A 100,000-coin win ticket? You've gotta be kidding. Even that Sand Pieris is 430 to 1."
The odds were established. In other words, there were people buying tickets. However, they were undoubtedly support bets. Thus, they were naturally the booby prize. No one else expected anything from them.
The numbers spoke more eloquently than anything else, saying that Fortitude was a finished horse, and wondering what an unknown jockey could possibly do. They were thought of as nothing more than window dressing.
"It's hilarious. So hilarious that――――"
At that moment, Fortitude would likely never forget the wave of emotion he felt from the back.
"――――it's starting to piss me off...!"
The wave of spirit flowing along with the words was something he could understand because they were Aria Horses. He didn't need to see his face to know. The new, and final, partner on his back was laughing. He was surely laughing while angry.
That golden, almost fierce wave of spirit, however, gave Fortitude courage. He wasn't alone. He had a partner who believed in him and was willing to fight by his side.
"Let's go, Forti. At this point, there's no value in anything other than first place. Let's cut through all the other horses, give the middle finger to every single one of those blind fools who didn't bet on indomitability, and laugh our heads off."
Yes!
Suddenly fired up by that fact, Fortitude entered the gate with high spirits.
Twenty seconds until the race begins.
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"Now, the horses have entered the gates――――and they're open. All horses start simultaneously. Breaking away from the middle is number five, as usual, Twin Jet. Slightly delayed is number eighteen, Haribote Energy. Other than that, they've all had a good start.――――Oh, and here, following the leader Twin Jet, is number fifteen, Fortitude. His form has been dropping for the past two years, but this is a great start that reminds us of his heyday."
●
Once the front of the horses were settled into the starting gates, the starter's flag was waved and the gates opened all at once.
For Fortitude, who understood the rules of horse racing in human language, this was his specialty. Once all the horses were in and the flag was waved, all he had to do was run when the time was right, so there was nothing to be surprised by, let alone stand up in the gate, and he didn't even need instructions from the jockey.
The flag being waved was the signal that the gates would open, and once they opened, he just had to run. Therefore, Fortitude never fumbled at the start.
If there was a problem, regarding this race, it was that he had to aim for the fastest initial speed rather than the fastest final stretch.
Although Fortitude himself was a horse who excelled at leading and could start relatively close to the theoretical limit, due to the characteristics of the Arima course, the distance to the first corner was extremely short. It was only 192 meters, and if he was a front-runner, he needed to push the noses of the other horses aside by then. Furthermore, once past that, there was a steep slope with a height difference of two meters. To keep the lead or the head of the leading pack and continue building a distance cushion, initial speed was more important than anything.
Moreover.
(Today, I'm feeling light...!)
With a surge, Fortitude dug into the turf with all the power he could muster.
Gate seven, number fifteen, was the draw he had been given. In other words, the outside of the gates. Conversely, it was the furthest position from the corner. To take the lead while making up for that distance, a perfect start and maximum acceleration to overwhelm all other horses were required.
If this were a closer or a late-charger, it would be part of the strategy to be buried in the pack, but a front-runner cannot demonstrate their true value unless they are in the lead――――or at least in second place.
Considering that, being an outside draw as a front-runner in the Arima was a very severe handicap.
However.
"...!"
He heard his partner gasp on his back. But Fortitude did not hold back. In a sense, the start was the most difficult critical point of this race. If he didn't win here, he would be caught by the pack and lose as predicted, unable to demonstrate his true ability.
He had already decided that he wouldn't lose today. Therefore, he slammed his legs into the turf so hard he thought they might tear off.
The sound of the wind increased exponentially in volume, and by the time the other horses began to dwindle in the flowing scenery――――.
"You! Serious Breakers!"
"Huh!?"
He heard a strange voice from the side.
Later, who had been trying to endure the violent acceleration, looked to the side and saw the horse wearing the number five bib for Twin Jet――――it seemed to have come from the rider.
Glancing over, he saw a man who looked pathologically scrawny glaring at him.
"Uh, that's... B-B-B――――Boke!"
"It's Beosteral!"
It was Beosteral. Later, who had seen the face somewhere but hadn't remembered the name, uttered a name that sounded about right, but the man seemed offended by such a crude abbreviation.
"Shut up, how should I know! Your name is too long! Also, the sound of it is too similar to Geoglyph-sensei, it's confusing!!"
"Gah, you ill-mannered brat! In the first place, what are you doing in a place like this!"
"What do you mean? Can't you tell by looking!? I'm a jockey! What are you doing here!!"
"Gunu... I ran out of travel money and entered as a substitute for an injured jockey, but to encounter you in a place like this...!"
Beosteral, who apparently ended up participating as a last-minute entry just like Later, suddenly glared sharply at Later.
"Fine then, Serious Breakers! Meeting you here is the end of the line! I'll show you the greatness of this Twin Jet! Hyah!!"
As if this were the final straight, he began to accelerate, whipping the horse. Even Twin Jet, who received the signal, accelerated while looking confused, as if thinking, Eh? Full power here? Isn't this earlier than usual?
Hey, Later. I don't think that kid has enough stamina to run two thousand five hundred at that pace...
"Our plan was to run in the lead, but... let's follow him for a while to use him as a windbreak. It's more convenient if the ones behind are confused."
These two would later be called the "Arima Idiot-Run Duo" by a name that was either an honor or a dishonor――――but that is another story.
●
"Now, we've reached the first corner of the Arima. Twin Jet is in the lead, followed by Fortitude one horse length behind, and while the pack still hasn't fully coalesced――――oh, Haribote Energy fell! Despite the cheers of the crowd shouting 'Turn around!!', he fell as expected! That unpleasant sound of a wooden box collapsing!"
●
Seeing the state of number eighteen, Haribote Energy, who fell spectacularly at the first corner and had about two people pop out from inside, Marianne instinctively dropped her poker face and interjected.
"..................Thinking about it calmly, why is something like that in a Grand Prix race?"
"There are clearly people inside, Elder Sister."
Lilitia followed up on the interjection. However, those around them who overheard this shouted loudly.
"There are no people inside!"
"Don't you know, girls? Haribote moves on everyone's expectations. This is what you call a true idol horse!"
Eh...
She cast a suspicious glance as the guards forgot their duties to defend it.
"And he wins occasionally."
No way!?
The two of them were speechless at Nid's words.
For the record, he had apparently won once with win odds of 125 to 1. Horse racing is truly unpredictable.
●
"Now, the pack is approaching the main stand. The leader is number five, Twin Jet, second is number fifteen, Fortitude, and slightly behind is the leading group, number two Anguirus, number four Vasquez, number ten Electric Sheep's Dream, number seven Not Interested, number eight Talk to the Wall, and the popular contender number six, Ascand. About two horse lengths behind in the middle are number seventeen Ever, number fourteen Koei, and here we have the favorite number nine Rotlingen, number twelve Integral, and number sixteen Kyokusen Bancho. Following in the rear are number eleven Remember, number thirteen Boheeze, and number three Vajureela. Isolated at the very back is number one, Contender."
●
"It's started..."
Latia muttered, looking down at the pack of horses racing past the main stand.
She was on the roof section of the spectator stands. Through Bethlehem's arrangements, she had come up to the roof via the inspection passage as an official.
With her hair fluttering in the wind, Latia checked the Magic Gun in her hand.
This time, her task was to eliminate the saboteurs――――more accurately, to perform a counter-snipe.
After all, for an anniversary race, the residents of Berture and visitors coming for it would gather, resulting in a massive crowd of over a hundred thousand people. In such a situation, there would be no end to it if they tried to be wary of or capture every suspicious person.
No matter how much they were the Three Idiots, they couldn't possibly have future sight, and in the end, they had to be reactive. But if that was the case, they could just let the enemy cut their flesh to break their bones.
Based on past trends, the saboteurs used one shooter per race. The target location was around the third corner. It was likely a plan to make it look like an accidental mishap to prevent the race from being declared void. There, it was furthest from public view, so to an amateur, it would look like a simple accident. They probably figured that once the finishing order was determined, the management, fearing a riot, would have to pay out the winnings.
Conversely, if they could just deal with that one person, the pursuit would stop.
There was no way to prevent the first shot regardless of what they did. Therefore, Later would endure it with sheer grit. The problem was after enduring it. Latia's job was to eliminate the likely follow-up shot.
"――――O spirits of the wind."
Along with the activation formula she spoke, the wind that had been playing with her long blonde hair stopped.
Among elves, those born with Spirit Eyes, the same as the High Elves of legend, occasionally appear. This, considered an atavism, was not as grand an ability as the name suggested. It simply meant they could see spirits and communicate with them to some extent. However, because of that, their affinity with spirit arts was high, and it was particularly useful for making fine adjustments.
In Latia's eyes, the wind spirits responding to the activation formula――――looking exactly like green clione――――formed a line and clung to the Magic Gun.
Though she didn't know the details, the guns prevalent in the Three Idiots' original world――――namely, modern Earth, were the pinnacle of physics. But because of that, they could never escape the fence of gravity, and bullets described a parabolic trajectory and eventually fell. Therefore, when sniping, observers were used to calculate drop and wind direction, or methods were taken to increase the length of the rifling using the barrel length to strengthen the gyro effect, increase straight-line stability, and extend the range.
In contrast, the Magic Gun――――no, to be precise, magic was not affected by those things. Therefore, if a straight line connected the muzzle and the target, it would always hit.
That said, no matter how good an elf's eyes were, there was a limit. The means to supplement that was these wind spirits. The wind spirits spread across the Makayana Racecourse were invisible to ordinary people. Even a highly skilled spirit artist would only feel a slight sense of incongruity.
Then, once a saboteur used magic, the spirits would inform her who used it. They would guide the muzzle to the target that needed to be shot through.
"Geo said it. The secret required for a sniper. 10% talent, 20% effort, and 30% cowardice... the remaining 40% is luck."
She possessed the talent. She had put in the effort. She also had the cowardice, which is why elves secluded themselves.
Therefore――――.
"Now come, saboteur. ――――A single chance is all I need."
Latia's eyes would not miss the next opportunity that came her way.
Next time, same time next week.