The black phantom—Sunday Silence.
But truly, what kind of Uma Musume was Sunday Silence on the racetrack?
In Japan, her name was famous in its own way. Because between Sunday Silence and this country, there were ties that could not be untangled.
Gotham Song had never really studied in detail what that old thing Number One had done. But even so, she was certain of one fact.
When it came to running, Sunday Silence's strength was terrifying.
Perhaps when she had still been alive, not in ghostly form, her strength had been dulled by the fact that her greatest compatibility was with dirt tracks—so she could not shine as brightly on turf.
But set aside "compatibility," and she was the Uma Musume who had conquered the hellscape of the American Triple Crown!
Yes, Sunday Silence's power was real. And after she became a ghost, the final obstacle that might have shackled her on grass tracks—vanished into nothing.
A ghost had no body to collide with. Her hooves did not truly strike the ground.
And if so, then for Sunday Silence now—what difference was there between dirt and turf? All that mattered was simple.
How long had she waited, waited, yearning for this?
Sunday Silence always believed herself to be a pure Uma Musume. Or rather, pure to a degree that seemed strange. The only thing she loved—was fun.
She had once said something like this to Gotham Song. If she hadn't always had other things catching her attention, then after becoming a ghost, she might not have waited patiently until she met Manhattan Cafe and settled down.
No, she would have gone down a path of no return for the living.
If she hadn't always found distractions, she might have become a true evil spirit.
What kept Sunday Silence tethered to this world was the pursuit of things that thrilled her. And among the urges she had always suppressed, one of them was this—
To chase, to bite down fiercely upon the back of this fascinating fool before her.
That face. That back. Those running legs. That hair!
Anything about Gotham Song was interesting.
To keep chasing. To keep her always in the center of her vision. Just as it was now on the track—Sunday Silence could no longer hold down her desire to run, to fight. And so, she made a reckless, daring choice—
"This is—?! Suddenly on the track, a pitch-black Uma Musume appears! She's snapped right onto Gotham Song's heels—does she mean to brazenly challenge our Demon King?! A ghost girl, no one saw her appear!"
The commentator was shaken. She had never seen anything like this. And she couldn't explain why she had so naturally called her "ghost girl."
It was a feeling. Just one look at that black figure chasing Gotham Song, and the word ghost was all her mind could conjure.
That dark figure closing in was nothing but a phantom from the old days, here to make a hopeless challenge against Gotham Song.
A jet-black ghost Uma Musume.
And just as the commentators and the entire audience could clearly see Sunday Silence's form—so too could the runners on the track.
Or rather—some had always been able to see her.
Who besides Gotham Song could see that Old Ghost #1?
Of course—Manhattan Cafe.
After the break, Cafe had settled into her usual familiar position. She shot through the first corner at her best speed, then into the backstretch. Even as she was certain she was running at her absolute best—there was still a gap between her and Gotham Song.
And that gap had nothing to do with running style. Cafe knew. If Gotham Song wished, she could hold a terrifying speed from the very start, sprinting all the way to the finish.
In other words—if you followed that logic, wasn't it just that Cafe's speed was too slow…?!
She had known it, but hadn't been forced to face it directly. Or perhaps, she had been forcing herself to face it.
But now—the truth before her eyes was far harsher than that.
The friend who had grown up alongside her, who had always been with her unseen in every race, was no longer holding back.
Sunday Silence's desire to challenge Gotham Song had burst out.
Cafe knew the two of them were close. She didn't know exactly when it had begun, but their bond had indeed deepened quickly. And she could feel it clearly—
Sunday Silence had always wanted to challenge Gotham Song. Of course she had. Which Uma Musume would not want to test herself against the strong?
Such searing, burning desire would not fade with closeness. No—among Uma Musume, the closer they were, the more they wanted to challenge. Blood, kinship—it was often through soul-crashing battles on the track that emotions were exchanged!
Uma Musume were creatures of emotion.
And when moved by emotion, they thought not of reason, not of what was "right." They thought only of desire, of self.
Many refused to leave the racetrack, simply because they loved it. They loved the joy of running, the joy of racing against others, the cheers of fans.
So Cafe could understand Sunday Silence's desire to challenge Gotham Song. Completely.
And yet—it hurt.
Because Sunday Silence had never shown such desire toward her.
One after another—though she had always been the one to know them first, to be closer, to be there earlier…
Why was she always the one left behind, chasing their backs?
Cafe hated this feeling. She had always hated it.
She was the elder sister. Wasn't she supposed to be the one in front, the one Gotham Song should be chasing?
So why—why had it become like this?
Song's strength was a good thing. But the bitter truth was—
Cafe's weakness.
Frustration burned in her chest. She didn't know what her face looked like now. She only knew her head was lifted high, her breath ragged, her chest ablaze, her world stretched thin and blurry.
And in her vision, only two figures remained, racing ahead.
One—her most precious companion. The only friend she had grown with, the one who had made her who she was.
The other—her foolish little sister, the one she had always wanted to protect, always wanted to keep behind her, but who never let her rest easy.
No matter what—you two are not allowed to leave me behind as though it were natural!
That, I will never permit.
Cafe roared in her heart. She ran like mad, drove her legs with all she had. No—she had been at full power already. But "full power" was only that much. Even at her limit, she could not catch them.
So then—what had to be done to reach them?
Crush the limits underfoot.
Forget them.
If limits dare try to bind my soul—then let them be cast aside.
Right now—for the sake of catching up—I will throw everything away…!
I want it.
Everything that should have been mine.
To stand at the very front, to be the one who breaks apart the air!
Manhattan Cafe burst into mad laughter, carried away by the wind. Ragged, hysterical, her face twisted, the silence and calm she usually carried were gone—her deepest, most buried anger bared without restraint.
And what came in return for such madness?
A flickering miracle—drawing all the surrounding light into blackness. A wavering, unstable glow born from an emotion too heavy to contain.
Manhattan Cafe—snarling, anchors dropped!
"OHHHH—! No one expected this! After the black ghost appeared on the track, the first to launch a frontal challenge is Manhattan Cafe, who had been running in the rear group! Such speed—speed she's never even shown before, not even in the closing sprints of her career!"
"Is it here, in the Arima Kinen, that she finally can't hold back anymore—bringing out power beyond herself?! Manhattan Cafe—acceleration like a miracle, not even a hint of fading yet! She's tearing out of the rear group and is already about to join the battle for the top three!"
The crowd erupted at her performance. One by one she swallowed those ahead, drawing closer to the blazing figures at the front. Until only a handful remained before her.
Who were they?
Sunday Silence and Gotham Song, racing in front.
Just ahead, Mejiro McQueen.
And…
The one who, on the official race program, had actually been slotted into second position.
This year's second great escape runner of the Arima Kinen—Twin Turbo.
Truth be told, just being able to run in the Arima Kinen had Twin Turbo so excited she'd almost been unable to sleep the night before.
This was the Arima Kinen! For a girl like her—one who'd never truly gotten results—to step onto this stage was already a near-impossible dream. And more than that—her running style, daihō, a great escape—meant she was running in the same race, on the same track, with that Gotham Song.
Just thinking about it had Turbo buzzing like crazy!
But once the race began, once the gates flew open—the cheerful head inside her skull felt something else creeping in.
Something unfamiliar.
That emotion was called nervousness.
With her lack of race experience, she'd already been left behind Gotham Song at the start.
That was normal, wasn't it? After all, her opponent was a legend who had perfected the break from the gate.
But Turbo fidgeted. Turbo always fidgeted.
And when she came out of the first turn only to find herself still locked behind Gotham Song, unease gnawed deeper.
And then, when that black ghost suddenly appeared—her nervousness hit the point of explosion.
What finally ignited the fuse of her frenzy?
The approach of a stranger—Manhattan Cafe.
She didn't know why, but the girl closing in on her back felt eerily like the black phantom in front. And once she realized it, her restless heart lost its last shred of calm.
So annoying! Already Turbo-dono couldn't let loose properly for all kinds of reasons—and now someone behind was going to pass her too…
Turbo-dono can't stand it anymore! Talk about long-distance stamina, compatibility, nonsense, I don't get it, Turbo-dono doesn't get it at all!
Distance too long? Doesn't matter! Start now, go max speed! Whether I can last to the end isn't what matters right now!
As long as I put in guts—there's nothing Turbo-dono can't do, right?!!!
And so, when Manhattan Cafe was just about to reach her, the darkness was torn apart by blazing blue fire. Twin Turbo ignited, like an explosion.
Her tiny frame, in that instant, made the other girls unable to even look straight at her. The gale of her power howled as she flung herself into a wild, savage charge.
In seconds she had closed the gap on Gotham Song!
Hehehe—Turbo-dono told you already! My great escape is the best! Even if it's against Gotham Song—I'll still escape!
Run, run, run…!
If the whole racecourse turns into a runaway, then there's no opponent we can't beat!
"And now coming forward—it's Twin Turbo! She must have incredible faith in her stamina! To go wild like this with half the race still to go?!"
"Twin Turbo—is she about to shatter Gotham Song's myth right here at Nakayama?!"
"Can she do it?!!"
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T/N: "Mm. If you've read this far, I suppose you're at least a little invested."
"If you want to support the translator, there's a Patreon here: patreon.com/wisetl. It's optional—think of it as tossing a few extra coins on the counter. Early chapters are just a bonus side-effect of that support."
"This place also has its own strange currency… Powerstones. For every 100 Powerstones the story gets, you'll receive 1 bonus chapter. 100ps = 1 chp, 200ps = 2 chp, 300ps = 3 chp… you can do the math."
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Say thank you to Maomao guys