"What exactly did you do wrong?"
"I…I shouldn't have been so weak. I've caused you trouble, Miss Song…um, Trainer."
Gotham Song, almost bursting with anger, roughly grabbed Flightline's cheeks and stretched them mercilessly, raising her voice louder than she had in a very long time.
"Look me in the eyes. Is that really all you think you did wrong?"
"I…I… But did I even do anything wrong…?!"
Flightline's voice carried an aggrieved tone, clearly having no clue what her real mistake was. Seeing such genuine confusion made Gotham Song fall into silence.
How should she even describe this?
Looking at Flightline, now lying obediently in a hospital bed, tightly wrapped in blankets with a towel pressed on her forehead, utterly helpless—only at this exact moment did Gotham Song truly grasp an unbelievable fact: although Flightline stood two meters tall and had a temper even taller, in truth, she was still just a child at heart.
Or rather, her mentality remained innocent, naïve, primitive—yes, a genuine idiot's mentality.
Maybe even now, Flightline genuinely believed that while she might've done something wrong, she certainly hadn't meant to. She probably thought it was just bad luck this time or something.
But wait—what kind of person has "bad luck" every single day? What child cries every day? Gotham Song wasn't some terrible parent who beat or yelled at kids daily, nagging them relentlessly about finishing their homework.
Flightline, are you really going to claim you didn't bring this on yourself?
Then, why exactly was Flightline obediently lying in a hospital bed right now? What exactly happened during that previous training?
That afternoon was miraculous indeed… Ahem, perhaps Gotham Song would never forget it for the rest of her life—one of those afternoons filled with a sense of existential helplessness.
The instant she saw Flightline's Zone ignite, shining brilliantly as the wish-fulfilling miracle appeared, just as she'd started to feel surprised at how smoothly everything had happened, an instinctive anxiety welled up inside her. Before Gotham Song herself realized why she felt this way, Vernal Equinox quietly tugged at her skirt.
"Flightline-senpai…is nearing her limit."
"Nearing her limit," huh…what unfamiliar words to hear?!
In that instant, Gotham Song clearly understood why she'd felt a sudden urgency that she herself couldn't fully grasp.
The so-called "limit"—throughout her entire racing career, hadn't Gotham Song herself only experienced that once so far? At the Arc, wasn't it? Aside from that, let alone surpassing it, she'd never even approached her true limit in any other race. As long as she unleashed her full strength, she was literally invincible in every sense. Nobody had ever made her feel truly desperate or cornered.
So, naturally, Gotham Song was an absolute novice when it came to noticing when someone else had reached their limit. Had Vernal Equinox not pointed it out, she definitely wouldn't have realized.
Thinking carefully, it made perfect sense. Even though Flightline had ignited this miraculous, wish-granting flame, how long could she possibly maintain it without being able to control or even comprehend its immense power?
Miracles absolutely existed, of course. But if one came knocking when you weren't ready, would you call it a blessing, or rather a curse of destruction?
Of course, the latter, right?!
Flightline, who rarely managed even a full training session, let alone maintained a hundred-percent completion rate, was now sprinting at terrifying speeds despite being completely exhausted. Under these conditions, what outcome could possibly occur?
Firstly, she might notice her limit and gradually slow down, stopping safely.
Secondly, she might completely fail to sense or control her current state and recklessly attempt to replicate a small-scale Arc, except this time not on a rainy day—burning herself out entirely.
Only these two possibilities existed, right?!
Even Donna, who'd run ahead, seemed aware of the danger. She had already begun to gradually slow down, clearly attempting in her own way to encourage Flightline to ease her pace, hoping to avoid a potential disaster.
Unfortunately, Flightline had completely lost herself within her speed, intoxicated by the rare sense of accomplishment gained from surpassing her own limits.
Thus, when Gotham Song began chasing after her at speeds she usually never displayed, Flightline's sweat-soaked body instinctively accelerated again, determined to clearly prove who was superior.
Yes—Flightline's body…
When Gotham Song caught up and was about to persuade her to stop, she vividly saw her new teammate's terrifying expression.
There wasn't a trace of fierceness, only a numb emptiness surpassing even ferocity. At that moment, the one running was no longer the Uma Musume named Flightline. Instead, it was pure instinct, driven solely by obsession—her sense of self and reason had vanished completely.
The moment Gotham Song understood this, she could only smile helplessly, unleashing silver flames towering into the sky, instantly suppressing Flightline's raging orange flames until they burned quietly, flickering only around her own body.
Gotham Song thus opened the curtain on what could be described as a heroic epic—except this time, very few witnessed it. Only Donna, who had exhausted her stamina and stopped earlier, and Vernal Equinox, who stared on in admiration, saw clearly.
What exactly had they witnessed?
A hero cloaked in gentle silver flames ran quietly beside the staggering figure, never saying a word—just silently accompanying her. Then, when Flightline finally couldn't hold on anymore and her miraculous flames completely burned out, Gotham Song moved swiftly to catch her Uma Musume securely in her arms as she collapsed.
It was truly a visually striking scene. After all, Flightline was exceptionally tall and imposing—even after fainting, losing all her ability to move. Yet this massive Uma Musume was held gently by Gotham Song, who smiled helplessly and tenderly as she slowly absorbed the last of Flightline's momentum, kneeling softly on the grass, and finally laying Flightline's head gently on her own lap.
At that moment, although Donna said nothing, she felt deeply from the bottom of her heart that Gotham Song resembled a giant deity: silent, gentle, yet towering and majestic.
That small, delicate figure seemed unbelievably grand; even without a single word, she radiated brilliance.
Indeed, perhaps only Miss Gotham Song was the absolute, unquestionable strongest existence in this world, wasn't she?
Of course, Donna hadn't forgotten her duties as a logistics-support Uma Musume. Even though she genuinely despised Flightline's current mindset and everything about her besides pure stats, Flightline was, after all, someone Gotham Song had extended her tenderness toward. Donna certainly wouldn't waste the glow of that kindness. Driven by this feeling, she promptly contacted the hospital, and shortly thereafter, Flightline was once again carried away in an ambulance to her familiar little nest—
—that hospital room of hers.
And so, when Flightline finally woke up and became fully aware of everything that had happened, the scene described earlier occurred.
This time, Flightline truly couldn't muster even a shred of resistance or stubbornness toward Gotham Song.
Of course, genuine confusion was also very real. She really couldn't understand exactly what she had done wrong.
Thus, when Gotham Song saw Flightline's face—distorted from having her cheeks pulled—still showing confusion and grievance, she truly felt speechless.
This child really has plenty of good points. But why does her brain have to be so hopelessly one-tracked? Exactly whose fault was this anyway—could it really be Secretariat's fault as her guardian?
"Your mistake," Gotham Song said clearly, "was not even realizing how weak you really are. Understand?"
"My…weakness…?"
Flightline's voice was hesitant. Truthfully, this was the first time anyone had described her this way. In the past, in those practice races, people had never used such a pointed word like "weak." Instead, they'd chosen a term at the opposite extreme—
"Strong."
"Strong to the point that it's hard to even imagine chasing her. As long as Flightline's run isn't deliberately stopped or cut short by an accident, we'll probably never beat her in a race our whole lives, right?"
This was what Flightline had heard most often about herself from others. As for more tangible results, she had nothing to show. After all, for her, accidents always came sooner than victories.
"Yes, weak," Gotham Song repeated. "Not finishing a single training race completely—if that isn't weakness, then what is? Flightline, do you seriously think that just being ahead of others at the start of a race means you're truly strong?"
Gotham Song's posture shifted forward from where she had been sitting at Flightline's bedside. She was now practically half-straddling the hospitalized girl—barefoot, only thinly clad in short socks, supporting her weight in a way that thoroughly trapped Flightline beneath her, giving her no way out from facing the question head-on.
It was like a cross-examination, leaving Flightline nowhere to run.
"Do you really believe, just because you initially outran Donna, that you're stronger than she is?"
"I—I…is that not true? Even though endurance and the situation at the time are one thing, but the truth is, wasn't my speed still faster?"
"Yes," Gotham Song acknowledged bluntly. "If you just look at the surface, it might seem so. But Flightline, have you ever stopped to think for a moment?"
The corners of Gotham Song's mouth curled slightly upward as she prepared to bluntly confront Flightline with the truth—her current standing, her actual position.
Miss Flightline, you don't seriously think you beat Donna at the start, do you?
"Flightline, surely you don't think a horse-girl who could maintain her speed and lead even against you, who'd lost all control in your awakened Zone, would lack the endurance to keep up with you at the very start of a race?"
You couldn't possibly think something like that, right?
At that moment, Gotham Song clearly saw Flightline's lips part, as if she wanted to say "isn't that the case?" But after an odd pause, the Uma Musume beneath her fell into a lengthy silence, her eyes flickering uncertainly.
Flightline wasn't actually a total fool. It was just that her running style had always been too wild and free, especially when her long history of failing to finish races prevented her from accumulating meaningful experience. Under such conditions, she naturally never developed any real understanding of the deeper aspects of racing.
So, once Gotham Song had placed the facts plainly before her, Flightline quickly grasped the meaning behind her Trainer's words.
Donna…you schemed against me?!
Flightline's face twisted into a grimace, clearly expressing her anger. But before her rage could fully ignite, Gotham Song quickly snuffed it out with her next action.
Gotham Song even grabbed Flightline by the collar of her hospital gown, drawing close—so close that Flightline had nowhere else to turn, no possible way to avoid her Trainer's next words.
"Listen carefully, Flightline. Don't think that tactics and strategy are insults to the purity of racing. Running is running, but the racetrack is the racetrack. Anyone might love the pursuit of their absolute limits, but—!"
"But racing is different. The moment you step onto the track as an Uma Musume, victory becomes the most important thing. Victory, and only victory. As long as the methods used aren't disgraceful or unethical, everything is allowed, everything is justified. Feints, baiting, deception—these are also legitimate tactics. Do you understand?"
Gotham Song's voice wasn't especially harsh. Though it still carried traces of a youthful, even girlish tone, once it cooled into seriousness, her voice became as heavy and oppressive as the towering presence of a legendary Uma Musume, leaving Flightline feeling suffocated.
Flightline could only quietly endure it.
"If all you want is to pursue the absolute limit, of course you can go running endlessly by yourself until the end of time. But unless you have the ability to completely break away and finish races under any conditions, you cannot choose such a ridiculous approach. Flightline, if you think just having superior speed alone guarantees victory, then you really are as naïve as a child."
"A racetrack is a stage that requires tactics, speed, physical strength, endurance, opportunity, luck, preparation before and after the race—not one element can be missing. Only when all these aspects combine into something greater than what others possess can you achieve victory and create miracles."
"Why do you think that even after triggering your Zone you still lose control, still end up defeated—even destroyed yourself, losing the same way Twilight Song did at the Arc?"
To be fair, Flightline's performance, in a certain sense, did resemble Gotham Song's own situation back then. Especially at the final instant, the resemblance was chillingly accurate.
Both of them were able to ignite their Zone purely through emotional surges, both desperately used their speed to defy their own mortality, leaving everything else behind.
But…!
But there was one crucial difference: Even at her most reckless and irrational moment, Twilight Song still possessed extraordinary talent, abundant preparation, and could master the unleashed miracle. Twilight Song truly could recklessly burn away her very existence without restraint.
But Flightline?
"Flightline, I want you to remember this clearly: if you haven't prepared yourself, miracles will approach you wearing a different face."
"When that moment arrives, no matter how dazzlingly beautiful it may appear, it will silently become fatal—because the thing approaching you at that instant isn't a gift of grace."
"It's mockery—a mockery of destruction."