"So—you're saying you're going to take up the new position as the head of the self-governing Uma Musume organization?"
"Yes."
Song looked at Symboli Rudolf's perfectly serious face and, for a moment, couldn't quite process whether she had really heard that right.
Because… wasn't this way too strange and absurd? If word got out, wouldn't a lot of people question it?
And just what exactly was the situation here—?
"But what does that have to do with you wanting me to join the Central Tracen student council?"
Song still clearly remembered: she'd just been visiting Tokai Teio's dorm, and after seeing Teio was doing fine, she was about to leave and find something else to do. But she'd run straight into Rudolf, who'd caught her.
Mm… "just happened to run into her"?
Let's just call it that!
Song knew Symboli Rudolf fairly well—whether it was in her past life as Twilight Song or now as "Gotham Song."
She was someone who rarely joked.
Except when she told bad ones.
So what she had just said wasn't banter—it was Rudolf's genuine wish, spoken with complete seriousness.
But was this reasonable?
"If I'm not mistaken, Rudolf-senpai… I'm still a classic-year filly, right? And did you forget? Even if I've raced more here lately, my debut race and my nationality aren't Japanese."
Song's classic year wasn't even over yet. Normally, at this stage, she wouldn't qualify to join an organization that was basically made up of the most famous Uma Musume in all of Japan.
Not to mention—she was an American Uma Musume!
An American joining a Japanese organization, becoming one of the top candidates for the next leader—how could that be reasonable?
Oh, and there was that little side remark Rudolf had made earlier—about hoping Song could succeed her in two or three years. Song had almost instinctively ignored it.
That wasn't a bad joke, Rudolf-senpai?
"That's not an issue. If anything, for a horse girl with your reputation, problems like that can be completely overlooked. So—will you accept my request?"
Song twirled a lock of hair, doubtful, not answering right away.
"I might need to think about it before I can answer. It's not anything else—it's just that, Rudolf-senpai, I have… no interest in something like that? Mm, basically, I'm lazy. I've got no thoughts about working hard like you do."
There was no way she'd ever willingly inherit Rudolf's position—not for any deep reason, just… what, make her a superhuman like Rudolf?
Better to expect the Dream Cup to produce another Twilight Song—that was far more realistic.
If she really took that position, she'd be carrying the same weight Rudolf bore. As her successor, she'd be held to that same standard. She could see it already—her daily life would never be easy again.
Song had no intention of throwing herself into that kind of exhaustion.
It wasn't avoidance or irresponsibility—after all, this was never something she'd been saddled with in the first place.
Rudolf didn't seem all that surprised by her refusal, but she clearly had more she wanted to say.
Yet, seeing the firm, shining resolve in Song's eyes, she ended up saying nothing—just turned her gaze aside, leaned back in her chair, and nodded slightly, accepting Song's evasion.
Well, yes. This had just been a trial balloon, an invitation she never really expected to succeed. In fact, the way things had turned out was closer to what she'd imagined.
So Song took her leave and left the student council office. But before she could fully shake off that conversation—she spotted someone unexpected leaning against the wall outside.
Secretariat. …Eh? What was she doing here?
Clearly, she wasn't here for anything casual.
Which was odd—because it was obvious she was here for Song. That much was clear the instant Song met those deep eyes.
Secretariat's eyes always carried complex emotions—so deep it was hard to read them. But now—
Song could see the meaning in the legendary mare's gaze plainly.
So—what kind of matter would bring Secretariat here in person?
Song couldn't guess, but she was curious.
"Looks like Rudolf-san's invitation didn't go too smoothly. I take it you didn't give her a very favorable answer?"
"You know she wanted to invite me into the student council…?"
Secretariat's smile stayed exactly the same—but now it had that slight warmth and indulgence you used when talking to a foolish student.
"If I say yes?"
Why that kind of reaction—? Wait. Oh. Maybe that is why.
Right? Right. Yeah, that's right.
After all, Song might be at Central Tracen now, but she was still a transfer from American Tracen, still in the middle of an overseas campaign. If Rudolf wanted to boldly invite a foreign horse girl into the Central Tracen student council, she wouldn't just have to ask Song and Chairwoman Akikawa Yayoi—
She'd have to run it by Secretariat too.
Just yesterday, Secretariat had been discussing this very thing with Rudolf! And today, she'd "coincidentally" caught Song showing up—perfect timing to sound her out.
Which meant Secretariat's answer would be…
"If Song-san has no objection, I'm willing to support it."
Her smile was unchanged—but Song could see the utter lack of concern in it.
Was she… indifferent to Song's decision?
No, no, not at all. It was… she already knew how it would end.
Secretariat clearly foresaw things going exactly like this. That's why she'd been waiting outside the student council office.
Otherwise—?
Given what Song knew of this old madmare, there was no way she'd just sit by while Song joined another organization—especially in such a rule-bending way.
"All right, Song-san, don't give me that weird, inexplicable look. I'm not that unpleasant, am I? And while I'm just as curious about many things about you as Rudolf-san in there is…"
"Now's not the time. There are still plenty of occasions that require our personal attendance."
Secretariat looked a little restless. But even facing the Old Monster #2—who could haul her onto a racetrack at any second—Song didn't flinch in the least.
Not because she wasn't afraid—just because it wasn't time to be afraid yet.
If Secretariat was saying this, it meant she had something important and urgent to handle next. Which meant, logically, Song's safety was guaranteed.
Thank goodness. She had zero desire to spend her rest time in another life-or-death match with an old legend.
The last time Oguri Cap had chased her around, she'd practically been cured of her nonexistent running addiction.
And besides—running now was pointless. There was no escape.
So what was Song's answer?
A nod.
Yes, yes, Secretariat-sama, you've still got plenty to do—you can't rest yet!
And maybe because of that calm acceptance, Secretariat's gaze slowly eased Song's lingering unease. She began to look as composed as she usually did.
And Secretariat's response?
That same smile—and then the massive hand that could cover Song's whole cheek.
The Iron Grip.
When her shoulder was seized, Song finally realized what was about to happen.
"Secretariat-san…? Wh-what is this? Don't you have a lot to do?"
"No, no, Song-san—you've misunderstood. I said we, didn't I?"
"We have a lot to do. Not I have a lot to do."
Let me guess—you meant "we" as in you and Rudolf-senpai, with lots to work out together, right?
Wrong. At least right now, wrong. By "we" I mean me and you, Song-san.
Or should I say—our "Special Observer for Japanese Racing Events.
As a member of the International Racing Oversight Organization, and your superior in this regard, it's only natural for me to require your attendance at the upcoming event.
"Anyway, next we're going to the venue… Oh, and we'll need to pick you up a dress first. Don't worry, your role is simple—just go on stage and read from the script. I'll handle the press conference afterward. See? Easy, right?"
"Ahaha, yes, very easy. I—I understand. Guh…"
What else could she say but "I understand"?
Guh—kill me?
Guh—can we make peace now? I swear I won't act so smug and fearless like I did earlier!
You've got to be kidding.
So, with her eyes dead and vacant, Song was bundled into a sleek black sedan, whisked into the noisy downtown, and after being dragged through several twists and turns by Secretariat, found herself in an unfamiliar boutique.
From that point, she could barely remember what happened—only that, thanks to her short stature (and Secretariat being nearly 180 cm tall!), she had absolutely no freedom as an Uma Musume, and was used like a dress-up doll to cycle through outfit after outfit until the American Chairwoman's temper seemed satisfied.
Then, she was herded back into the car, which sped away once more.
How long did it take to get to the venue?
Song had no idea. Like a marionette, she let herself be led into the backstage prep area. Only then—shaking off the ultimate dress-up session—did she gather the spirit and courage to look at herself in the mirror.
So—how to rate her current self, and Secretariat's taste?
Tch—what would Secretariat know about taste? This was all my doing—damn, I look good.
One hand on her hip, striking a pose with her hips tilted, flashing a sideways peace sign.
In the mirror, a petite Uma Musume smiled faintly back—dressed in a pale Lolita-style dress, her silver hair tied and adorned with a light-blue ribbon.
A look like this required absurd beauty to pull off—but instead of overpowering her, it somehow made her seem even more the center of the world.
Taking advantage of the empty room, Song tried a few more poses. If not for the platform shoes being a little unwieldy, she might have picked up her skirt and spun in place.
In fact, she was sorely tempted—
Until the sound of the door opening behind her froze her in place.
She dropped back to flat feet and turned sharply—finding herself looking at Dancing Brave, whose face was caught between wanting to laugh and not daring to.
It was obvious she was holding it in hard—her shoulders even trembled slightly.
Puzzled, Song glanced back at the mirror to check she wasn't wearing anything strange or inappropriate, then looked back at Dancing Brave for an explanation.
But in that instant, Brave had already smoothed her expression back to her usual cool, serious demeanor—leaving Song even more confused.
Was my turn just now completely wrong or something?
Song had no idea—but this was not the time for her to smile at some idiot thought. So Brave, who'd been peeking for quite a while now, was forced to keep enduring her private amusement.
After surviving that trial, she quickly handed over the tablet in her hands so Song could see the contents.
"This is the speech you'll be reading soon. Just take a quick—pfft—cough, cough—just take a look first."
"Ah—oh, okay. Sure."
Without thinking much of it, Song took the tablet—missing the way the Old Monster #3 practically bolted from the room.
But the first few lines on the screen made her freeze.
"…There really is a Twilight Song?!"
The Dream Cup… really is a thing?!!