Gotham Song watched Secretariat leave the venue, eyes tracking her until she disappeared from sight.
After all, that old hag had snuck out. Even if Festival Glory didn’t mind, Secretariat probably still had a sense of sha.
Must be rough. Even people who shoulder responsibility—when they occasionally do what they want—still have to rush back the mont it’s over, fly ho, and dive straight into the next day’s work.
Pitiful. A waste.
Gotham Song tried to imagine herself living that kind of life... no, to rember the years she had lived like that—and a chill crawled up her spine at the thought of those unbearable, unrepeatable days.
Back then, she’d had it way worse than Secretariat, hadn’t she? Secretariat was a big shot. She had every right to do nothing at all. The only reason she looked this "miserable" was because her sha and morals were too high. Otherwise she’d be zipping around the world for fun—who knows where.
Better not empathize with big shots like that.
They’re the enemy of working people. Yes. The enemy!
Just look at Festival Glory on the other side of the world, still slogging through paperwork under the sun!
How dare you, Secretariat!
Only after she’d carefully confird that Secretariat really had gotten into a car and left did Gotham Song dare to swing her fist into empty air, indulging in the courage to mock her.
An Arican Umamusu in Japan... Gotham Song couldn’t help thinking: this ti, coming to this venue, Secretariat really shouldn’t have been carrying a cane.
She should’ve been carrying a pipe.
Clamped between her teeth, and then she’d say sothing in that authentic New York accent—
Give her a racing alliance and she’d build you a brand-new organization in minutes. That’s the Japanese Umamusu. That’s jiro Manor’s Ramonu...
Yeah. Pipe and glasses. Perfect.
Thinking that viciously, Gotham Song successfully amused herself.
But it was only a mont of goofing off. Once the urge had been satisfied, she started thinking seriously about her last exchange with Secretariat.
Old Bastard No. 2 was really looking forward to the Dream Cup showdown...
And sowhere between the lines, there’d been a subtext, hadn’t there?
Even if you’re stronger, I won’t concede. Watch yourself. If you get careless and I counter and take you out, then you’ll have no one to bla but yourself.
Sothing like that.
Gotham Song mused.
Was that her showing weakness?
Of course it was. Saying it out loud ant Secretariat had, in fact, admitted that in terms of sheer, absolute power, she couldn’t beat Gotham Song. On the contrary—she was at a decisive disadvantage.
To admit that, for a forr legend who hadn’t given up the will to live, was a kind of tornt. A trial.
But.
What made it truly frightening was what ca after.
To accept, calmly, that the other person was stronger—was that the real issue?
It was a mindset problem, yes, but not in so light, throwaway sense.
If you could say that, what did it an?
It ant Secretariat genuinely believed she was the weaker one.
And as the weaker one, facing a stronger Umamusu—what did you do?
You set down every last shred of pretense and pride. You drop everything else. You throw all of yourself into the track, and as the challenger—burning, direct, incandescent—you raise a rebellious sword against the giant storm that is Gotham Song and try to tear her apart.
So was Gotham Song going to face a Secretariat at her peak?
No.
She was going to face sothing beyond peak Secretariat.
A Secretariat terrifying enough to set down even the arrogance of her pri and chase victory by any ans possible.
A weaker one’s challenge to the strong—brilliant, dazzling, and deadly.
It was sothing you had to be on guard against.
To be honest, Gotham Song was still deeply wary of Secretariat. The other woman was a genuine legend. With that kind of posture and resolve... she might even be able to elbow Eclipse and send that even older, undefeated existence straight to "out," for all Gotham Song knew.
She didn’t know. She could only guess.
But—
Hey. That was five months away. More than five months.
Before then, she just had to train step by step, improve herself, and calmly welco the challenge when it ca.
Who am I?
I’m Gotham Song.
I’m the modern, unconquerable myth—the one even Secretariat has to look up at, concede, and challenge from below.
So what was there to fear before the starting bell?
All she had to do was stay herself, give everything, and tear every enemy to shreds.
Gotham Song wasn’t joking in the slightest. If she said she’d tear Secretariat apart, then she’d tear Secretariat apart. If she said she’d take the Dream Cup and make that ghost, Twilight Song / Ruka, fail completely, then she would make her fail completely.
No one could change her mind.
Jesus?
Not even the Three Goddesses.
That feral grin spread across Gotham Song’s face again—only for its flavor to shift slightly the next second.
"Wait. Was that the first ti I ever talked tough to that old fossil? Heh. See that, Secretariat?"
"Song-sama’s power!"
Gotham Song pumped her fist.
But—maybe it was her imagination—she thought she heard a faint laugh.
Very low. Very quiet. But so real it didn’t feel like a hallucination.
Yet when she turned her head and looked around—turning again, even whipping around several tis—she couldn’t find anyone else nearby.
It left her thoroughly puzzled.
Only, a dozen seconds later, her confusion was cut off.
The real reason she’d stayed behind at the venue ca looking for her on its own.
With crisp heels clicking, jiro Ramonu appeared in Gotham Song’s line of sight as she turned. And with her ca Symboli Rudolf, who—oddly enough—was wearing her Racing Outfit outright, her face carrying a strange little smile as she looked at Gotham Song.
"Looks like it’s ti to part ways, Ramonu," Symboli Rudolf said. "Since you’ve made up your mind, I’ll be entrusting the future of the next generation to you."
"Don’t say it like it’s that simple," jiro Ramonu replied smoothly. "This was always sothing we were sharing the burden of."
Symboli Rudolf had clearly picked a topic that didn’t quite fit, but jiro Ramonu still answered without missing a beat.
Beside them, Gotham Song blinked.
Brain. Brain, start moving.
She felt like she could almost figure out why Rudolf would suddenly bring this up now... and yet she still didn’t quite get it.
And just as Gotham Song felt she was about to understand—
jiro Ramonu took her hand.
And sowhere in that mont, Symboli Rudolf vanished from view.
"She really ran fast..."
"Huh? Rudolf-neesan left in such a hurry?"
Gotham Song tilted her head. Looking at her sister’s oddly unreadable expression, she tightened her grip without thinking.
Feeling that small movent, jiro Ramonu’s mood visibly brightened, a faint smile rising to her lips. She didn’t seem interested in dwelling on Symboli Rudolf at all. She looked at Gotham Song and gently poked her cheek with her free hand.
"Yeah. She ran like her life depended on it—like she’d done sothing guilty."
"My guess? Even if all she had was Maruzensky’s sports car, she’d still jump in without hesitation and shout, ’Step on it!’"
Uh... yeah. That’s urgent.
Gotham Song couldn’t even imagine how desperate things had to be for soone to willingly leap into Maruzensky’s car and order her to floor it.
Even a ten-minute trip under Maruzensky’s foot could be compressed into sothing terrifyingly short.
And the price?
The price is feeling like you just got punted back to the Afterlife, you bastard.
Gotham Song shivered, abandoned that life-threatening mory, and fell silent.
jiro Ramonu didn’t react much. She simply held Gotham Song’s hand tightly as they got into the car together to head ho.
But on the way back, jiro Ramonu kept watching Gotham Song—eyes bright, never looking away for even a mont.
It left Gotham Song thoroughly confused.
She touched her cheek, then looked back.
"I don’t have crumbs on my face, do I, Ramonu-neesan? Is sothing going on?"
"No. If you had anything, I’d wipe it off for you, Song. It’s nothing. I just want to look at you. Is that not allowed?"
O-of course it’s allowed, but... why does it feel weird?
Maybe she could tell how at a loss Gotham Song was. Finally, jiro Ramonu stopped hiding the amusent she’d been holding back for a while and changed the subject on her own.
"That Arican legend—did she say anything special?"
"Old ba—Secretariat? No. She was just happy URA finally fell. Aside from that, nothing special."
After all, she was an AKA "old fossil on the run from the office." Even if she wanted to "do sothing," she didn’t have the room—or the ti.
jiro Ramonu nodded, then let her gaze drift away from Gotham Song and out the window.
Taking on an obligation she’d never imagined she’d accept...
It was a little surreal, wasn’t it?
From the perspective of family interests, what jiro Ramonu had done was completely acceptable. More than acceptable—it was like a blessing descending from the skies, like the Three Goddesses had personally selected her.
But jiro Ramonu knew she didn’t really care about the position itself. She only needed to hold it. As for what ca next... she’d simply do what needed to be done.
"By the way," jiro Ramonu said, "Song, you’re going to participate in the Dream Cup, right?"
"Yeah. I am, Ramonu-neesan. I do have a reason I can’t avoid."
The Dream Cup—where the legendary era and the modern era converged, a dreamlike duel. That was the origin of the Dream Cup’s na...
It made people jealous. Whether as an Umamusu... or as an older sister.
jiro Ramonu was jealous, too.
Because she was an Umamusu who had no way to compete in the Dream Cup.
"Ramonu-neesan?"
"Ah. I’m fine. What is it, Song?"
jiro Ramonu had fallen into her own thoughts, but the next second she was snapped awake by the voice calling her na.
And what yanked her out of that rising, swelling sense of loss—was Gotham Song, right in front of her.
In the dim car, her little sister suddenly and willfully filled her entire view, leaving no room for choice at all... just like how she’d co to jiro Manor and beco everyone’s family—so sudden, so joyfully unreasonable.
"I’m fine," jiro Ramonu said softly. "It’s just... I’m a little... bothered, that’s all."
"Bothered?"
"Yeah. Because I can’t take part in the Dream Cup."
"Ah. I see."
Gotham Song thought: after being an Umamusu for this long, she could finally understand the deep disappointnt in her sister’s emotions.
But how was she supposed to fix it? To soothe it?
Her mind couldn’t find an answer.
So in the end, Gotham Song relaxed her thinking and followed her heart.
In the drowsy, shadowed car, she slid from her seat across the way to jiro Ramonu’s side, then lightly hooked both arms around her sister’s arm and pressed jiro Ramonu’s palm against her own chest.
"Song...?"
"Shh. Can you feel it? My heartbeat."
Song’s heartbeat...? Why bring up sothing like that so suddenly?!
Even as she thought it, jiro Ramonu’s fingers curled reflexively.
Of course she could feel it—the full, soft warmth beneath her hand, and within it, that vigorous, powerful thump.
Proof her little sister existed in this world.
And... it was dangerously easy to sink into it.
jiro Ramonu knew it: a single touch, and she already didn’t want to let go.
"Hah... c-cough. Ahem. Anyway," Gotham Song said, forcing herself onward, "even if Ramonu-neesan can’t go onto the track... I can run."
"This heartbeat you can feel right now—it’ll be beating on the track, too. It might sound a little forced, but Ramonu-neesan..."
"I’ll run carrying everyone. All of jiro Manor. Everyone."
"You—and Song—together, on the track."
"We’ll ride the gale."
Ride the gale...
jiro Ramonu looked at Gotham Song, and for a mont she didn’t know what to say.
Was it a little forced?
Maybe. A bit.
But... it was Song saying it.
So it didn’t feel forced at all.
---
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