A week passed.
Alongside the final popularity results for the Arima Kinen, another announcement came out—
Information on this year's URA "Best Uma Musume" award.
And with that, the entire internet erupted again, chattering nonstop.
The reason was simple: every discussion circled around one question—
Would Gotham Song, the first-year mare who had crushed last year's URA Horse of the Year, even be eligible to compete for this year's title?
The online debate split neatly into two entrenched camps.
The pro side argued not only that Gotham Song deserved the award, but that URA's Horse of the Year needed her to prove the title's worth.
Are you kidding me? That's Gotham Song we're talking about. You're saying that a mare this powerful, who has practically steamrolled every honor in Japanese racing this year, wouldn't win URA's top award?
Don't be absurd.
The anti side's rebuttal was simple, direct, and—annoyingly—solid enough that the pro side had no real counter.
Their argument?
We know Gotham Song is insanely strong—but she's not even a Japanese horse girl. She's here on an overseas campaign. She's simply not eligible for URA's domestic Horse of the Year.
And, to be fair, the antis always opened with this:
"We also agree that Gotham Song is the undisputed demon king of Japanese racing this year, and that this award needs her to prove its weight."
So really, the "opposition" was just a more extreme version of the pros.
In fact, more than a few netizens noticed many antis were also spending their days roasting URA on other matters.
Their favorite target?
"Why don't you include foreign campaigners in the Horse of the Year vote?"
And if you checked their profiles, you'd find they were doing everything—probably more aggressive than the "extreme" pros.
You extreme pros are too mild—look at us "conservatives"!
And so began URA's third large-scale public roasting of the year.
Whether it was her imagination or not, Song couldn't help feeling something was… off.
It was like these Japanese netizens were doing a daily quest. No, not quite—more like whenever they didn't know what else to do for fun, they'd find some excuse to unleash on URA.
They'd even drag out dumb things URA had done years ago and demand explanations. By the third round of this, Song couldn't tell herself it was all just "situational."
No—there must've been plenty of people itching to do this already. Or maybe the ones not itching for it were the minority. Otherwise, how could they be so coordinated—on networks URA couldn't control—tearing into an organization they'd clearly disliked for ages?
Well, damn. URA's screwed.
…Heh.
Still, was Gotham Song just sitting back to watch?
Of course not. After she'd gotten her own petty revenge, she was still annoyed at URA in many ways, but she wasn't eager to kick them while they were down. She even wondered if things were going too far.
But that faint thought of intervening was quickly waved off—by Secretariat.
The Number Two Old Monster even set two dates down in front of her with a sly smile, letting her think it over.
One: the Japanese URA Horse of the Year award ceremony.
The other?
The American Tracen People's Voice Special Award presentation night.
When Song saw those dates, she was stunned for a few seconds—then turned to Secretariat in disbelief.
"…Those two were not scheduled for the same day!"
"They weren't. But as the Tracen Chairwoman for America, shifting the timing a bit is well within my authority, don't you think?"
Looking at Secretariat sitting there, Song could only feel an unnamable sense of dread. The senior before her seemed to radiate a crushing aura, every movement steeped in the kind of authority that made your spine stiffen.
So this is what "unlimited power" looks like.
Twilight Song? Compared to this, you're weak. Really weak.
Song knew she'd have a place in the American People's Voice award this year, so the intent behind Secretariat's little "reminder" was obvious.
…Was it just her, or did Secretariat seem to hate URA far more than she did?
"But, Secretariat-san… cough—if it's not me, who do you think will get this year's URA Horse of the Year?"
"Now that's an interesting question."
Of course she knew. But sitting primly in the middle of Mejiro Manor's guest salon, she didn't immediately answer—only took a sip of tea before replying.
"There are two candidates. One is the undefeated dual crown winner—and the heroine who picked up a wave of popularity from your Kikuka Sho incident—Miss Tokai Teio."
Her brow twitched at that last part, as if displeased by someone involved in that "incident." But before Song could follow the thread, Secretariat went on.
"The other possibility is Miss Agnes Digital, who's had quite a few successes overseas this year."
"But Miss Agnes Digital's situation is rather like yours—or rather, like El Condor Pasa's."
El Condor Pasa? It had been a while since she'd heard that name.
This year, El Condor had once again run the Arc—and, like Silic years ago, ended up as part of someone else's legend. Afterward, she lingered in Europe for a while before returning to Japan—
Only to announce immediately that she'd challenge the Arc again next year. And the year after, until she won—or couldn't run anymore—or died on the track.
That bold vow made her the center of conversation for a day… until the next day, when all talk of it mysteriously vanished.
Why?
Song didn't know.
But after that, URA caught another wave of public flak—
And "flak" was putting it mildly. They had it coming.
Because El Condor's second Arc run had been nearly self-funded—if not for Secretariat's own organization stepping in with almost all the necessary support.
This fact had been public knowledge when El Condor first announced her second Arc attempt earlier in the year, but as the discourse shifted and she returned to the spotlight, it resurfaced as fresh ammunition.
So why was Agnes Digital's case similar?
"Because she's also a chiyunyuuma—an import mare—not fully counted as part of Japan's domestic pool."
The more Secretariat spoke on this point, the more her displeasure showed—well beyond her mild distaste for Teio. It was a thick, tangible hostility.
She clearly didn't believe URA's current public shaming was anywhere near finished.
"So in other words, no matter how hard Miss Agnes Digital works, as an import mare she's practically guaranteed not to become URA Horse of the Year?"
"That's right…"
Song remembered she'd once asked URA staff directly—
After all, she was practically the "wild card" URA couldn't ignore now—so asking was easy.
Why didn't URA help more Japanese horse girls go abroad? Why did El Condor get nothing this year—nearly having to fund herself?
The answer had left her speechless.
It wasn't that URA refused to spend a cent—the approval process was just too slow. They had budgeted for it, but by the time the money cleared, El Condor was already at the Arc, about to race.
Worse, URA wasn't even familiar with how to support overseas campaigns—they didn't know what to do!
Song still remembered the moment she'd heard this—utterly dumbstruck.
Random onlookers not knowing was one thing. But you're URA. URA! How can you know nothing?
"So yes—this year's Horse of the Year will only have one real outcome: Miss Tokai Teio."
"But it'll be an empty win. No one will truly want to accept it. Even years from now, when people recall this year's URA events, they'll quietly skip mentioning the Horse of the Year."
Secretariat looked entirely at ease, as if she'd foreseen it all, reclining back into her chair.
"Eh? Why? Even if I don't attend, they'll still hold the ceremony, right? Or is Teio going to refuse the award?"
"Of course she will, my dear Song. For any horse girl with pride, this isn't an honor—it's an insult. Accepting it would only make her slap herself years later."
"The title of the year's very best—there's only one in everyone's hearts. And you are the peak that every mare hoping for that title this year had to face. If you were in her place, would you accept it?"
…She wouldn't. Definitely not.
Horse girls didn't just chase victory—they valued honor even more. If accepting the award meant taking the spot everyone believed belonged to another…
Even before worrying about others' opinions, the mare herself couldn't stomach it. It was the ultimate humiliation.
Song nodded—then noticed Secretariat had somehow moved to sit right beside her.
"I thought you'd know this better, Miss Song. Tell me—do you remember who URA's Horse of the Year was in Twilight Song's year?"
Eh…? That year—oh. The year I died. Who was it? …Strange, I really can't recall. No one seems to talk about it.
"In the end, it was given to Tamamo Cross, not the import mare Twilight Song. But the White Lightning herself refused to attend the ceremony—so that year, URA effectively had no Horse of the Year. Understand now, Miss Song?"
"Ahaha…"
Secretariat didn't seem ready to stop. She tapped Song's forehead lightly, almost fondly, marveling at how the mare she wanted to race against could be this adorably dense.
"And that year's People's Voice award? Also left vacant. Not because Twilight Song wasn't unforgettable—but…"
"She simply couldn't appear before everyone in her fullest glory. So the American council unanimously left it empty, as a memorial to a mare who would never return."
"So from that angle… Miss Gotham Song, you really are outrageous."
One horse, sweeping four year-end titles across two countries—three of which would go unclaimed.
What delicious irony.
"But this year's People's Voice has a little surprise for you, Song. This time, the award won't have 'Secretariat' in front of it."
Do you like it?
That crown left vacant since Twilight Song's year—the one that should have been yours—
It's coming home now.