The Voice of the People—or to be precise, the Arican Voice of the People Uma Musu Grand Prize—is an award given every year to the Uma Musu born in Arica who enjoys the greatest popularity.
But in truth, unlike what many imagine as a "Horse Girl of the Year," the Voice of the People is not about being the year’s best. It is about being the most popular—the Uma Musu who, among Arican-borns of that year, received the highest number of votes.
Even so, though it isn’t technically the "best of the year," in a certain sense this award carries more weight than the actual title.
After all, debates always rage over who deserves "Horse Girl of the Year." But when it cos to popularity, there is no second place to argue about.
If you can’t asure up, then you can’t asure up. There’s no excuse to hide behind.
So in many cases—especially in the eyes of Aricans—the Voice of the People is nothing less than another version of the year’s top honor. And when it ca to this Uma Musu—
Without question, whether in popularity or in strength, many Aricans were more than willing, from the bottom of their hearts, to crown Gotham Song with both laurels. But unfortunately, when it ca to the crown that truly represented strength, the horse girl they loved probably had no way of seizing it.
For in Arica, dirt carries more weight. And though Gotham Song’s record was indeed terrifying, one victory was overseas, the other on turf. What’s more, in Arica’s eyes, Japanese races hold little prestige. It was only that Gotham Song’s dinsion-crushing dominance was too shocking to ignore.
So when rumors spread that Gotham Song would likely not take ho the most coveted dirt title, and might only be up for turf honors—few were surprised.
That being the case, however, so kind of compensation was needed.
So not only Gotham Song’s fans in Arica, but even many ordinary bystanders, made a choice of their own.
On the eve of the Voice of the People announcent, the real-ti online tally began to climb at an unprecedented, jaw-dropping pace.
For the first ti in the award’s history, one Uma Musu’s popularity left all others in the dust, so far ahead the rest might as well not exist.
Just how overwhelming was Gotham Song’s popularity?
Simply put—
All of Arica’s other popular Uma Musu combined could only reach half of Gotham Song’s numbers.
And that was still the tally from the day before the ceremony. By the final cutoff hours before the event began, even that half had vanished. Together, all the others didn’t add up to half of her votes.
So Gotham Song, by an indisputable margin, took first place in popularity.
Yet truth be told, after stepping out of the car in the parking lot and riding the elevator up, Gotham Song found herself staring at her phone screen with a faintly uneasy feeling.
Yes, being number one in popularity was cause for joy. But wasn’t this gap far too big? Sure, she had plenty of fans in Arica, but this level of dominance could only an one thing:
That the majority of bystanders had voted for Gotham Song.
But was that really reasonable?
Gotham Song couldn’t quite make sense of it. She stared at the elevator numbers ticking upward, turning the thought over and over in her mind.
Do I really have that many casual fans? No... more like, is my appeal to strangers really so strong—so strong they’d put aside their favorite Uma Musu just to give this kind of decisive vote?
It’s strange. Up till now, haven’t all my activities been in Japan?
And only then did Gotham Song begin to realize why, on her one day out earlier, the atmosphere had felt so strange.
She shouldn’t have been that famous in Arica, should she? Famous enough to have mobs of frenzied fans surround her in the street—?!
Why would it be like this...?
"Song? What are you thinking about?"
"Ah, Ardan. I was just wondering... why so many people voted for . Isn’t it a little too unnatural?"
So you can notice that...!
jiro Ardan looked at her foolish little sister with fond exasperation. She reached into her prepared pouch in the waiting room, pressed Gotham Song into a chair before the mirror, and began to work.
A horse girl’s natural beauty was already frightening; her little sister’s figure was nothing short of flawless. Still, for a formal occasion, so touch of makeup was needed. So even though Gotham Song, as expected, showed a reluctant grimace, jiro Ardan’s iron will brooked no resistance—she pressed her into obedience with quiet force.
"Yes... why indeed? Sothing so abnormal must have a reason. If it’s you, Song, surely you’ll find it."
Why? Isn’t it obvious? Because of you.
Because of "you."
Whenever Song considered this, she always overlooked one thing: where in the whole world could she find the most Twilight Song fans?
Not Europe. Not Japan.
Here. Beneath her feet. New York. Arica.
To the Japanese, Twilight Song was a complicated history, half pride, half pain. But to Aricans...?
She was sorrow incarnate, an almost eternal scar.
The reason was simple. Though Twilight Song nearly ended up recorded as Japanese—joining ura, debuting in Japan—in truth, she had been born in Arica, raised in Arica, and her nationality could never change.
So what did it an, that such a legend, born on their soil, with such overwhelming power, never returned ho after her last, most legendary race? For the fans, for ordinary countryn—what reaction could there be but grief?
And in fact, Twilight Song’s peak in popularity did not co while she was alive. In life, she was strong, terrifyingly so—so strong that people could see nothing else. Only strength. No chance of failure. Wrapped in mystery, unsocial, untouchable.
In life, that mystery was a curse. But when the Arc ended, when that blazing life burned itself to ash, mystery turned to regret.
And so, it was then—when even casual onlookers beca fervent—that her popularity truly soared. Twilight Song’s highest fa ca not while alive, but after death. A fa that has only grown since, never ceasing—!
jiro Ardan knew it clearly. She had always followed everything related to Twilight Song. She knew exactly why things unfolded this way. So was Gotham Song’s popularity really enough to conquer nearly all of Arica’s horse girl fans?
Of course not. What happened was this: as Twilight Song’s heir, Gotham Song—the Caesar returned, the Augustus crowned—had taken onto her shoulders the regret of countless hearts.
What crushed all competition in this popularity poll was not the living Gotham Song coughing lightly at the powdery scent of foundation.
It was a ghost.
A ghost haunting all Arica, all New York, the entire hall itself. A ghost that countless Aricans longed for. A ghost nad Twilight Song.
So, when would her foolish little sister realize this?
Honestly, if it were anyone else—if so other girl dared so brazenly to bask in her dead sister’s glory and inheritance—jiro Ardan would have been furious. She’d seize that collar, slam her against the wall, and demand with a rage she’d never shown before: Do you even understand the honor you carry?
But the truth was different. The one standing here was her little sister. Her real little sister—Twilight Song herself. And so, jiro Ardan could only sigh and smile indulgently.
What else could she do? If her foolish sister couldn’t understand, then so be it. It’s not as if she didn’t deserve this honor.
The Voice of the People award—why shouldn’t Gotham Song enjoy it?
Would anyone dare claim this massive foundation of popularity ca from anyone else? Hm?
Answer : isn’t Gotham Song in truth Twilight Song herself?
"What do you an, ’if it’s I’ll surely find the reason’...! Ardan-nee-san, you’re awful."
Gotham Song pouted, but didn’t press further. If her sister wouldn’t say it outright, then it couldn’t be anything too important. Trusting Ardan, she let the thought go.
Still... maybe this wasn’t good either. Strange. Since returning to jiro Manor, had she grown too complacent?
As she puzzled, Ardan changed the subject.
"Compared to this, Song—your popularity in Japan is even more outrageous, isn’t it?"
"Ah... true enough."
Gotham Song shivered. Just thinking of it made her break into a cold sweat.
After all, she had nearly strung up the entire pride of Japan. And when that storm ended, even those Uma Musu who once loudly proclaid on social dia how much they hated Gotham Song... flipped like yin and yang, becoming her most rabid defenders.
So bizarre she couldn’t make sense of it.
Ordinarily, a normalized reputation would be a blessing. But why had it twisted like this? Two "good things" tangled together—and sohow turned into a laugh-or-cry ss.
And this wasn’t the only surreal thing. There was sothing else in Japan too, sothing just as hard to put into words.
After storming ura beca a weekly ritual of Japan’s online culture, Gotham Song’s reputation reversal wasn’t the only one. She was the direct cause, but not the true beneficiary.
The real Uma Musu vindicated in Japan was another—
Twilight Song.
Yes. Twilight Song.
Once vilified nationwide, the target of organized sar campaigns dressed up as "international righteousness"—overnight, without lifting a hoof, she sohow turned it around.
How to describe it?
Twilight Song was the freeloader who won lying down. Gotham Song beca MVP without aning to.
But the strangest thing wasn’t even that. After Twilight Song’s reputation flipped, Japan’s entire internet fell into such a bizarre state it could be used as a case study in social dynamics.
Gotham Song herself dubbed it "Twilight Song Fever."
Put simply: once, denigrating Twilight Song was the correct stance in Japanese online culture. Now it was inverted. Now, praising Twilight Song was the only correct thing.
And what irked the Japanese most—the grievance they scread about internationally—was this: why were they placed at the very bottom of Twilight Song’s fan hierarchy?
Why should they be despised more than even Westerners and "coin-hunters"?
Hadn’t Twilight Song promised to join ura? Hadn’t she debuted in Japan?!
So shouldn’t they—the Japanese—be the rightful peak of the pyramid, the noblest of all her fans?!
How to put it?
They only spoke of what favored them, and never of the grotesque things they themselves had once done. In a way, one could only marvel.
That you can do this now only proves you were always capable of the other.
Gotham Song had no words for it. She only took advantage of a pause, and when Ardan finished with her lipstick, she leaned in, mischievously biting down on her sister’s finger, saring pink onto her skin.
Ardan had no choice but to redo it. Song bit her again.
Again, and again. Until finally Ardan lifted her hand in warning, and only then did Gotham Song behave, ceasing her antics.
But one doubt lingered.
Why had her sister worn such a look of loss, as if she had just given up so precious treasure?
Strange.
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