Three days left until the Arima Kinen.
And just then—on a Japanese internet that couldn’t even muster the energy to trample URA anymore—soone dropped a deep-water bomb.
The cause was simple, and from the sa hand that had once set off the last blaze that scorched URA.
A busybody, skimming the International Uma Musu Racing Committee’s newly published list of licensed trainers, spotted a na that felt very familiar.
Gotham Song—appearing not as a racehorse girl, but on the list of newly certified trainers?!
At first, many assud this must be one of those extrely rare cases of a human sharing a na with an Uma Musu—
After all, the na "Gotham Song" as a racehorse girl carried permanent honorary protection, a prestigious privilege only awarded after winning the Irish Champion Stakes.
So plenty of people thought it must just be a human na coincidence.
But—!
When the nosy few opened the public profile attached to this new trainer’s file, and saw the ID photo, they completely lost their composure.
Not only was it the legendary Gotham Song—it was the black-uniform Gotham Song, a look even she herself could no longer recreate!
A photo from the days of a now-unattainable legend!
The mont the discovery hit, the finder plastered it online, and the entire Japanese internet lit up.
The discussion wasn’t even focused on whether Gotham Song could or should have passed the trainer’s exam.
In this era, human trainers were still the mainstream, but there were plenty of horse girls who, approaching the end of their racing careers—or after retiring—couldn’t give up the dream or habit of running, and chose to stay on the track in another role.
Those unwilling to retire kept racing. Others moved from the front lines to support roles or related careers in the racing industry.
And among them, many tried for trainer certification.
But—!
While many horse girls dread of moving from runner to trainer, the exams were strict everywhere—real written scores, practical tests. Plenty never made the cut after retirent.
What startled people here was that Gotham Song had passed the exam before even entering her senior years.
And—!
What drew even more curiosity was a tiny, easy-to-overlook na tucked into her profile.
Assigned Horse Girl: Vernal Equinox.
In that instant, the entire Japanese internet boiled over like a pot of water.
Everyone was obsessed with one question—
Who was Gotham Song’s assigned Vernal Equinox?
How on earth did she earn the right to stand beside that legendary mare?!
An assigned horse girl—listed right there in the trainer registry, revealed alongside Song’s certification.
Such an abrupt, out-of-nowhere bombshell, paired with a completely unfamiliar na, even led so to blurt out a wild, half-hysterical guess they couldn’t keep to themselves—
Could it be... Gotham Song beca a trainer for this unknown little filly?
Otherwise it made no sense.
Her racing career wasn’t "long" by any stretch—it had barely begun. The classic year wasn’t even over. The first koba season hadn’t even started.
Symboli Rudolf’s protégé, El Condor Pasa, was preparing her third Arc challenge, and even if Song wasn’t planning such a long career, she’d at least be expected to race through her first two senior years.
So why this? Unless it was for a promise to a specific horse girl, nothing fit.
Anyone who’d ever followed one of her races couldn’t help but be curious about Vernal Equinox.
The problem—
There was no information on her. Online, the na was as unfamiliar as if it had been made up yesterday.
Song’s public trainer file said nothing else—no photo, no details. Nowhere to start digging.
And so, all those chasing the mystery ended up running face-first into a wall.
Frustrating? Of course. The whole internet let out a collective groan.
And how did it all "resolve"?
Asking Song directly was impossible. She had no social dia.
So even suspected she was a tech-illiterate, like certain other horse girls confird to barely know how to use the internet—thus why she never appeared online.
With nowhere else to vent, the net mob did what they always did—
Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, they flooded back to the URA’s comnt sections.
"Not as fun as URA’s comnt section!"
Song’s mouth twitched as she watched this madness—how her profile post had shattered the stagnation and sent the netizens charging back to URA to resu their daily "quest."
And that, she thought, is why I will never get a verified social account...
"Miss Song, lead us into another charge against URA!"
Yeah—if she verified, it would 100% turn into that.
No thanks!
She preferred being the one pushed forward, not the one leading the charge.
By now, Song was already in ntal-rest mode.
With less than two days before the Arima Kinen, she wasn’t about to cram in extra training—it wouldn’t change much now. Better to recover, so she could race at full strength.
But so people thought otherwise.
Right now, jiro McQueen was pinned to the sofa, held there by Song’s firm, no-argunt grip on her shoulders.
Her silly little sister had beco marinated in overtraining—thinking of nothing but "more drills, more drills" for weeks after the Japan Cup. She hadn’t even had ti to be affectionate with Song.
Was this reasonable?
Was this the sa McQueen who used to blush when Song fed her snacks?
This was an aberration. And Song, knowing it was her influence, wasn’t going to dodge responsibility.
First step—break McQueen’s strange training obsession.
And what had the strongest pull on McQueen?
Sweets, of course. (What, you thought she’d say ?)
So, for this "fat filly" who had trained herself skinny enough to feel bony—Song’s punishnt was—
"Co on—ahh..."
Song smiled. In McQueen’s eyes, it was a demon’s smile. But still...
She was Song-nee, after all.
Dazed, McQueen obediently opened her mouth for the cake—and her eyes lit up as the "sugar" awoke inside her.
From leaning back against the sofa in resistance, she suddenly clung to Song’s waist, opening her mouth for another bite without prompting.
Song smirked.
See? No McQueen can resist sweets. Just like no Twilight Song could stop herself from coughing blood...
...Okay, that got weird. Anyway—McQueen?
I feed!
jiro McQueen, defeated by dessert.
Song, victor; McQueen, the filly flat on her back.
Still, she was a responsible sister. She didn’t overdo it—didn’t stuff McQueen to bursting.
Once she’d decided McQueen had had enough, she unhurriedly cut herself a slice from the rest and began eating it in front of her sister’s pained, longing gaze.
"McQueen...?"
"N-nothing, So—Song-nee. Nothing."
Strange. Sothing was strange. But if McQueen didn’t want to say, it probably wasn’t important.
When the crumbs were gone, Song set the plate aside, rested her chin on her hand, and looked at McQueen.
"Song-nee...? Wh-what is it?"
"Nothing. Just... curious, McQueen."
She’d been wondering for a while—never had the chance to ask. Now that she’d sohow gotten McQueen to sit still, she took it.
"Since I’ve been back, there’s no need to train every day, is there?"
Once the sisters had reconciled, Song had to know—what was behind McQueen’s earlier obsession?
The answer made her both helpless and guilty.
All of McQueen’s effort had been aid at competing with her—competing with Twilight Song. She wanted to catch up to that phantom, the one who’d always been just ahead of her.
She refused to accept that Twilight Song had gone. Especially after hearing from Phantom Song that Twilight Song would one day return, she beca desperate to grow stronger—strong enough to stand before her sister, to prove she’d grown.
In other words—
McQueen wanted recognition. Complete recognition—specifically from Twilight Song.
But after the Japan Cup, that should no longer have been lacking. She didn’t need to throw everything—ti, life—into obsessive training anymore.
"If you keep forcing yourself like this, you’ll only hurt your body. It won’t even help much."
Song could see that McQueen knew this—she could read it in her face. But McQueen still clenched her fists, biting her lip.
"But... if I don’t, I’ll only fall further behind you, Song-nee. Even if you’re back... that just ans you ca to find —not that I found you."
I didn’t find you...
McQueen had been anxious all along—even after Song returned. She kept thinking, What if I lose her again?
Song didn’t want to leave—but the Arc had been sudden, abrupt, like the whole world’s cord snapping.
Just thinking about it made McQueen’s heart seize, her breath stop.
She couldn’t breathe.
Seeing her like that, Song didn’t have an easy answer. She just pulled her sister into her arms, her own slighter fra offering what warmth it could.
Leaning close to her ear, she said—
"I know. Of course I know what you’re thinking. But pushing yourself like that—it’s no good."
"It’s fine to go slower. We have so much ti. I want to see you run for your own sake, and still be able to catch up to . I’m not going to vanish suddenly again. So..."
"So keep challenging . Over and over—countless tis, more than countless—until the very end of ti. And I promise you, McQueen—if you wish it, I’ll always et you on the track again."
"That’s my promise to you, as your sister—"
"My eternal promise."
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T/N: I AM A WOMAN WHO BREAKS PROMISES DONT LOOK AT EE
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