Since Mejiro McQueen was filled with such confidence, what words would Gotham Song say in return?
She looked silently up at the sky, then curved her lips into a smile.
Today really is a fine day.
And when Oguri Cap at last finished her parade walk past the grandstand, this Arima Kinen—so dazzling that calling it the entire world's focus would hardly be an exaggeration—finally reached the end of its opening phase.
And it was Gotham Song who, before anyone else, stepped down from the parade stand in silence, striding into the gates.
Since there were already so many beside her, so many who wished for an all-out duel with her in full stride—then no matter what, now she had no choice but to bring out her complete state, didn't she?
So then—what marked Gotham Song's complete state?
She called to herself. No—more precisely, she called to that self from years ago, the self who focused all her being on trampling the racetrack underfoot—!
Even though now, in both technique and experience, Gotham Song knew she was the strongest she had ever been, equal to or beyond any past instant…
There was still one thing. One thing alone that the Gotham Song of now—compared to Twilight Song of before—was far behind in.
What was it?
It was her heart. Her mental state. That flow of immersion where she was lost in it entirely, even before the race began.
That was Twilight Song's curse—and her talent.
It's easy enough to understand, isn't it? Back then, what forced her legs to run wasn't the wish in her heart, but the simple truth that if she didn't, she would "silently" die.
And Gotham Song now? All she had to do was take each step in line with the desires in her heart.
So yes—on this point, Twilight Song had been stronger, hadn't she?
As the crisp clang of the gate shutting rang out, Gotham Song slowly closed her eyes. She drew a long breath, reaching inward to the monster she hadn't called upon in so long—the hungry beast who once reveled in leaving all others far, far behind.
But… was Gotham Song truly just "calling" to her?
When her eyes opened again, her whole state had sunken completely down. No excess expression left on her face, only the most comfortable rhythm of breath. Adjusting herself into the posture she would need to burst from the gates.
Like a predator waiting to strike. The instant a gap appeared, she would launch like an arrow off the string, hitting dead center.
Honestly, she couldn't help imagining—if the one standing here today had been that old self, Twilight Song—what would have unfolded in this race?
Surely—that kind of death-defying great escape would have come again, wouldn't it?
But then, even if she was strong, was she truly unbeatable?
The question she had once pondered so many years ago, now rising back again from the folds of time as her thoughts cooled. Why was it, back then, that the "selfish" Twilight Song kept feeling guilt, kept faltering into hazy flashes of "I don't want to die" in her final Arc?
Was the will that drove her, trampling the world beneath her to flee death, really just obsession with not being forgotten?
"All horses have loaded into the gates now. It looks like this will be a fine race."
"Yes—and, as always, first to load was Gotham Song. But something amusing happened this time—I hear that when they uploaded the registration photo, the staff accidentally used a very old picture. Still, no matter what, the one in that photo was Gotham Song too, even if… she had another name."
"Cough—anyway, our Twi… Gotham Song is ready! With all the others inside, under today's clear skies, the Arima Kinen is about to begin. It's the final major race of the year, the one in every fan's heart with the most weight of all."
"So then, Nakayama today—supporters of every horse they wished to see have been chosen. Cheer! For the close of the year, for this grand stage, for—"
"For the Uma Musume who this year redefined the word 'glory'—the Arima Kinen enters its countdown—!"
Because it was the year's last great stage—and because the Arima Kinen was not so much about competition as about giving back to the fans—the commentators stopped there. No more words.
In their place, the crowd ignited the track's atmosphere to its peak with roaring cheers.
The whole of Nakayama seemed to shake—!
[Red]
Gotham Song exhaled a steaming breath. Even in flow state, only her mind was calm; her body could not help but adjust itself, ready for the sprint about to erupt.
Especially in the faint chill of December, her body blazed with astonishing heat!
But even so, her thoughts remained on the question that lingered.
Why had Twilight Song, at life's end, written those shameful words—"I love you all"?
Was it a lie?
[Red]——
No. Gotham Song did not believe she was the sort to deceive others with such words when on the brink of death. Especially when there was that detail she never liked to admit—
That, long before, when she wrote it in her diary, she had already made herself cry.
So how could that have been a lie?
It wasn't. It was truth—completely. The unshakable, innermost voice of Twilight Song.
And so—the core that drove Twilight Song not to want to die, and the same core that drove Gotham Song to return to Japan, to enter Mejiro Manor without hesitation, without fear or retreat—what was it?
It was what she could receive, what she wanted to receive, what she could not lose, what she yearned to respond to—
The love she gave to those beside her, and the love those beside her gave to her—!
[Green]——!!!!
"The race is on! The one to burst from the gate first is… ohhhhh—! For the second time, for the second time upon Japanese soil—it's her! The white-haired Gotham Song!
"The legend returns, the legend once more upon the track—those miraculous strides! From Gate 11, Gotham Song explodes forth, lightning-fast, her great escape—her great escape returns again to Japan, returns again to Nakayama!"
"Indeed—indeed, Gotham Song truly has great escape compatibility, and she's frighteningly skilled at running like this, isn't she? Such speed—terrifying, terrifying! Can she endure it to the end? Can she smash through? Can she conquer the Arima Kinen course, so notoriously hostile to escape-types?!!"
Of course she can. Easily, effortlessly, of course!
Though the commentator's mouth spoke doubt, in her heart she had already made her judgment.
Because the figure that filled her entire sight, her entire mind—was only the one racing far in front. Her hair flying loose, scattered in the wind, silver strands touched by the sun's radiance. No one could dare profane such a figure of power.
Catch up to Gotham Song? You must be joking.
As for this talk of the course being "unfavorable" to escape-types—that was the funniest joke of all.
Yes, Arima Kinen's layout was tough on runners of that style. But that was only the track itself. And even so, it wasn't rare for an escape horse to conquer it.
But who was the one running there?
It was Twilight Song. It was Gotham Song. The first escape horse to conquer the Arc, the one who even left Death itself behind and returned to this world again—Twilight Song!
How could such an Uma Musume ever be bound by something as small as "the Arima Kinen course"?
For her, there was only ever one outcome.
Twilight Song would run without restraint, to the ends of earth and sky, and claim all glory, all victory, all gazes as her own—her name branded upon it all. A race like this?
For a legend such as her, for one who had already become part of the very history of Uma Musume—too small, too trivial, hardly even worth mention!
"Gotham Song is still accelerating! She's already at the corner—she's not going to slow down into the turn? Truly—she's not slowing down?! Gotham Song enters the first corner—still accelerating!"
The cheers of the crowd grew sharper, almost shrill, even broken by many discordant notes. But it wasn't rudeness. No one had the space for that. Even those whose voices cracked so raw paid no mind—they had no strength left for shame.
These were the voices of throats torn hoarse, and yet not a single person fell silent. Everyone screamed, poured their entire being into the sight before them.
This wasn't something you could see just any day. This was the legend descending once more—!
But in Gotham Song's world, the track was not so.
Or rather—she had no room to pay the crowd any heed.
She was only running. Running to fulfill her promise with Cafe, with McQueen. Running to meet the eyes of those who watched her, those precious to her. That was all.
The air ahead carried a cold bite. It roared past, whipping her skirt and cape, scattering her hair to tatters. But still she drove forward, even as the winds formed solid white lines around her, flowing unbroken at her side. She had not the slightest thought of slowing down.
And who still had the nerve to challenge a Demon King this unreasonably strong?
The answer: All of them.
For any Uma Musume who could stand on the stage of Arima Kinen—who among them would not burn their body and soul to answer someone's hopes?
The first to strike was El Condor Pasa, who had been given a bitter lesson by an escape horse in the Arc. She could smell it—the even greater danger radiating from the girl in front.
And that only made her heart pound with joy.
If she could defeat Gotham Song here, then even that French rival in the Arc—she would no longer be her match!
No matter what, she had to win. Absolutely, she had to win. Which Uma Musume would ever accept defeat before the race was done?
El Condor Pasa—is here!
The masked bird unleashed her true speed the instant she hit the turn, lowering herself even closer to the ground than Gotham Song herself—!
Two Uma Musume, one before, one after, both in full flight. Yet neither clung to the inner rail.
El Condor Pasa, as though she cared nothing for finishing the race at all, threw out her ultimate speed from the very start.
A hysterical thousand-meter-long final sprint—launched right here at the opening.
All to fling the Demon King behind her. For an instant. For longer, longer still if she could.
"El Condor Pasa accelerates! A frontal challenge—is this really happening? Can she do it?! The ground-hugging monster bird is closing in—will Gotham Song respond, or ignore it? Even if she doesn't react, it may hardly shake her lead. After all, Condor doesn't have the endurance for a great escape, does she?!"
But not respond?
To hand over first place, even for a moment, letting Condor's body break the air ahead while she herself saved strength, then take the win easily at the end—
Did anyone really think Gotham Song would win Arima Kinen that way?
Ridiculous. This was not Gotham Song. Or rather, the first impression she had carved into Japan's memory had never been Gotham Song, had it?
I am the arrogant Demon King of the racetrack. No one dares provoke my throne—!
"Gotham Song—accelerates! Ohhhhh! A direct response! She answers Condor's challenge head-on, tearing open the gap and crushing her! El Condor Pasa—unable to break through! The leader is still our Demon King—arrogant Demon King, Demon King who allows no provocation!"
"Will she keep the lead like this all the way to the end—Gotham Song…!!"
The commentator's voice soared higher still.
But Gotham Song had no space for that.
Because what struck her then was a wave of malice.
Something strange was coming. Something dangerous.
Who—?
Sunday Silence.
Before the eyes of all—before the whole Arima Kinen course—where there should have been only sixteen running, something changed.
A shadow. A phantom. A black figure. A legend of the old days that did not belong here—suddenly given form.
Grinning wide, as though to snap down on Gotham Song's tail in one bite, she sprinted in impossible violation of limits.
Sunday Silence—greetings to you.
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T/N: REF DO SOMETHING!! SHES A GHOST!!! SHE HAS NO LIMITS!!!