Song walked up to the center of the hall, where every eye was on her, in a very foul mood, and made a show of fiddling with the microphone.
Honestly, she'd expected to feel at least a little nervous under so many stares from the audience—but when she actually stood there, she was surprised at how calm she was.
Why was that?
Probably because she'd already faced plenty of huge occasions before—whether in past races or in that one and only Winner's Concert—events that were far grander than what she had before her now.
And, in truth, Song had always carried another thought about situations like this—
Compared to the Arc or the Afterlife, this was just a bunch of strangers looking at her. In the end, it was their behavior. What did that have to do with me, Gotham Song?
Just a small stage, that's all.
It was just reading a script. Compared to having died once before, this was nothing!
That mindset probably explained her composure. She tapped on the tablet screen, not even bothering to hide it, simply standing tall on the footstool placed there for her and beginning to read aloud.
"By direction of the International Uma Musume Racing Committee, on the day after all events of next year's Breeders' Cup conclude, the second Dream Cup will be held. The following is the list of entrants who will return to the world to compete."
She didn't actually have much to read, but she still almost bit her tongue.
For two reasons—one, the length of the official wording, and two, ever since she'd previewed the script, her entire mind had been spinning over the names that would be revealed next.
As Gotham Song, what she was about to say had sent her straight into a spiral of thought—so much so that even walking out from backstage, she was still caught in it.
"Next year, the runners who will return to this world to bring the audience and the whole world a thrilling race are…"
"Brigadier Gerard, Sea Bird, and…"
"Eclipse… as well as Twilight Song."
She had deeply suspected there might be something odd about that list. But even if it came under the name of the International Uma Musume Racing Committee, where else could it really come from?
This was the Dream Cup.
The only stage where modern horse girls could race against legends destined never to run again, or against those long retired and far from their prime—legends who, here, could return to their peak after years away from the track.
It wasn't a race that the International Committee could just decide to hold. No—such a list could only come from one place.
Or rather, from three beings—
This was the decree of the Three Goddesses.
Though Song had never seen the Goddesses with her own eyes, the name alone was enough for her to never doubt the list's authenticity.
If it said "Twilight Song," then her former self would be on that track.
And so came the classic question—
She is Twilight Song. So who am I?
For that question, Song could find no answer. She even completely ignored the second-to-last name on the list—Eclipse—a figure far older in legend than Twilight Song, and one she had no spare focus for now.
Finishing the script, she stepped down from the footstool, lifting the hem of her skirt with one hand, and strode off the stage to the back room.
On her way out she passed Dancing Brave, but said nothing—still lost in her own confusion.
Only once she'd found a quiet corner in the lounge did she flop into a seat, arms folded, thinking furiously about a question she was doomed not to answer.
How could there be a second Twilight Song?
Even a "Phantom Song" was just a momentary ember left behind by chance and miracle—completely different in nature. But Twilight Song?
Could a horse girl bearing the exact same name from the mouths of the Three Goddesses really be someone entirely different?
Probably not.
The one who would appear in the Dream Cup as "Twilight Song" had to be… her. Or rather, a Twilight Song almost identical to her in every way.
Which meant… could it be another version of herself, from before her reincarnation—even including the time on the Afterlife—another self, the same yet wholly different?
For the Goddesses, creating such a soul and letting her briefly reappear in the world would be an easy, casual thing. But even so—it was still hard for Song to believe.
Would they really do all that just to let another "regret of the world" stand in the Dream Cup?
Were the Three Goddesses this much of a bunch of mischief-makers?
Song was starting to think so—but before she could finish the thought, the sound of a door opening broke her concentration.
She looked up—to see Secretariat walking toward her with a faint smile.
The American chairwoman always held herself upright, her stride precise and measured, light yet sharp.
But one's feelings toward someone change depending on the situation. Earlier, when Song had been relaxed and trying to avoid anything "official," seeing Secretariat had been cause for dread.
Now…
She actually felt safe seeing her.
After all, here was someone who had experienced more in life than all of Song's own experience combined—a mature, reliable figure.
So… should she try asking about her doubt?
"It looks like you're thinking about something you're bound never to find the answer to, Miss Song. May I sit here?"
"Of course… I thought you'd be busier."
Busier? Well, yes, she had been—but just as she was about to go socialize, Dancing Brave had caught her, murmuring about Song's current state, and Secretariat had hurried over without delay.
As for the work she'd left?
That had been handed off to Brave, naturally.
Old friends understood people's hearts well. If Brave had told Secretariat this, it meant one thing—
Brave knew she couldn't fully reach Song herself. Or maybe she could, but not as well as Secretariat could.
So, realizing that immediately, Secretariat had come straight here.
And now, looking at the occasionally prickly little thing before her, she could tell—Song really did need her.
Good. In that case, she'd come just in time, hadn't she?
"I'm guessing you're thinking about Miss Twilight Song?"
Secretariat had known since the Japan Cup. And when she saw that the Dream Cup list included a Twilight Song, she'd been surprised herself.
But now it seemed… the girl before her was even more shaken than she'd expected.
Understandable. This was about the nature of one's own existence. If Secretariat had faced this in her less-mature years, she'd have been shocked too.
All right, all right—this was her own little dereliction of duty. Time to make up for it.
"If you can guess now, then you could have figured it out earlier…"
Song grumbled softly in protest, and the older mare, used to such little sulks, only smiled more wryly.
Yes—better to understand sooner. But either way, wasn't it inevitable she'd find out?
She would have to face it eventually.
"But you can overcome this, can't you, Miss Song? I've always thought you were strong—or rather, I can feel it from your running. That sense of flinging life, the world, and death all behind you."
"I've seen so many strong horse girls. Even Brigadier Gerard and Miss Sea Bird—I saw them run before I ever debuted. But the one who truly drew me in, who made me want to step onto that rainy day track, was you—your strength, your conviction, your emotion. Not anything else."
What were horse girls, really?
Beings who would do anything to run? Competitive creatures?
No—those were just surfaces.
To Secretariat, horse girls were creatures of emotion.
Because they brimmed with feeling, they sought to prove their strength and worth in other ways. Running was the best window, the best channel. That's why generation after generation would break themselves to seize the greatest honors they could see.
It was emotion that drove them endlessly forward toward the future and their own fulfillment.
And so, long after she'd left the track, seeing Song's hopeful strides had made Secretariat's body burn again—hotter than ever before.
She wanted to race with her. She wanted to exchange emotions through running, to feel their souls collide.
Mm… how to put it…
It might sound cruel, but—Miss Tokai Teio, you don't really think you could be Song's true rival, do you?
That, perhaps, was the purest form of Secretariat's "mad" thought.
Whatever the blend of feeling, care, or more, Secretariat put an arm around Song's shoulders and went on.
"When I saw you come out of Miss Rudolf's office today, I was completely relieved. You hadn't accepted her offer. You're not suited to that position. We all know it, don't we?"
"Then aren't you curious why she'd invite you at all?"
Song didn't resist—just leaned into the senior mare's warmth and heartbeat, and answered quietly.
"Probably… to make me the starting point for turning Japanese racing back toward the international stage?"
"So you're not entirely clueless. Anyway—you're not suited for that role. That's why I was actually nervous, eavesdropping this afternoon. Then came the announcement just now. I have to apologize—but only apologize."
"It may be cruel, but you would have learned sooner or later that Twilight Song will run in the Dream Cup, wouldn't you?"
So you knew—and you just muttered a few words at me about it… And you grown-ups are the worst.
So sly.
Song thought irritably, and bit Secretariat's wrist with her small canines.
Secretariat didn't mind at all—just continued.
"So after Miss Rudolf completely failed, I came to you—well, I directly asked for your help. In Japan I had no one suitable to read that announcement on stage. Brave and I weren't right for it. Do I need to apologize for that too?"
"Tch… Just an apology? Who needs it—there'll be a next time anyway, won't there?"
Song knew perfectly well why Secretariat said that. After all, she'd come to Japan without bringing anyone along.
But still—was there really a need for her to stay this long in Japan?
Of course not. So why was she still here?
Because of her.
Because of Gotham Song.
And if that was the case, then of course she'd help—reading a script was nothing.
"Yes, there will be a next time. I'll always need your help, Gotham Song."
Then Secretariat suddenly closed the distance between them—pressing the younger mare against the wall with an unyielding air.
"So, Miss Gotham Song—the one I need—why waste time worrying about something so strange?"
"You are here as Gotham Song. As the Gotham Song so many care for and protect. Remember—your name now is only Gotham Song."
Given that—why question yourself over another name?
If she tries to chase you tomorrow, then just leave her far behind.
You've already succeeded once, haven't you?
The only Gotham Song before me right now—
Is the one I'll keep my eyes on, the one who's stolen all my attention, the one I can never go back from.