Flightline fell into a long silence—or rather, her poor, simple brain couldn't produce any decent response under such circumstances. Anyway, she remained silent, held tightly by the collar, not even stammering—simply unable to muster a single word of rebuttal.
It was precisely in this moment that Flightline suddenly realized something.
This Uma Musume currently straddling her waist might not approach racing with the purest intentions; perhaps she wasn't pursuing speed in the ultimate, extreme sense, but…!
But right now, this same Uma Musume was her Trainer, and she sincerely intended to take responsibility for Flightline's racing career.
Flightline didn't think of herself as stupid. At the very least, she clearly understood that if Gotham Song didn't genuinely want her to improve, there'd be no reason to say anything at all.
Why would she even need to speak up otherwise?
Flightline took deep breaths, desperately trying to calm herself, yet the only thing reaching her mind now was an unbearable numbness crawling up from her tailbone, a tingling weakness spreading through her entire body…!
Her brain went completely blank. She had no idea how to respond to Gotham Song's words, since this kind of severe scenario was truly a first for her, leaving her momentarily frozen, uncertain of what to do next.
In the end, was she actually a strong Uma Musume? If it was just about raw speed, perhaps that might be true.
Yet, the truth about her contests with Donna was painfully clear; the results of every past training session were still fresh in her memory. Wouldn't it be laughable to stubbornly insist nothing had happened in the face of those facts?
Flightline had actually thought about this question before. But whenever doubts emerged, she'd recall how her rivals praised her during hospital visits, always calling her "truly strong"—and she'd immediately abandon those thoughts.
But now, facing Gotham Song's merciless interrogation, she finally began to understand.
"I—I…I…"
"'I' what? At this rate, you're not even qualified to step onto a racetrack, Flightline. Remember this clearly. Do you seriously believe Twilight Song ran that way purely to pursue the limits of speed? You assume, and assume—everything is your own assumption."
In fact, how exactly did Flightline view Twilight Song?
Gotham Song had always been quite curious about the true answer to this question. After all, everything from their first meeting had stemmed from their differing views on Twilight Song, hadn't it?
But after going home, Gotham Song couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Why had Flightline acted as if she thoroughly understood Twilight Song? It was truly bizarre!
Thus, after sending Flightline to the hospital yesterday, Gotham Song had privately called a certain Uma Musume who surely knew her teammate best.
Secretariat answered the phone instantly, almost as if she'd expected Gotham Song's inquiry, and immediately spoke words that left Gotham Song utterly baffled.
Indeed, Secretariat's very first sentence had left Gotham Song uncertain of how to react.
"Actually, Flightline doesn't really understand Twilight Song at all."
What the heck?
Doesn't understand Twilight Song? Then who was that Uma Musume who kept confidently proclaiming things like "Twilight Song pursued the ultimate limit"—things even Twilight Song herself never knew?
Gotham Song felt utterly confused, but in the end, she stayed quiet and carefully listened to Secretariat's explanation.
In truth, Flightline had been adopted by Secretariat during a rather awkward period. Even Secretariat herself couldn't clearly articulate why she'd adopted Flightline. She'd simply passed by an orphanage one day and inexplicably felt a deep sense of compatibility with the girl, promptly bringing Flightline home at lightning speed.
On the phone, Secretariat's voice uncharacteristically wavered slightly, becoming uncertain—or perhaps more accurately, tinged with helplessness and a hint of guilt?
This expression of complicated emotions was rare for Secretariat, making Gotham Song even more curious.
After a brief pause, Secretariat continued:
"It was probably due to my personality at that time, since I hadn't retired yet. In short, Flightline was left to grow up mostly unattended. In a way, she's really the only one I ever failed to take proper care of."
Secretariat indeed had a strong personality—her sense of self was incredibly powerful. She was precisely the type to impulsively do something like this, and Gotham Song wasn't even slightly surprised by the descriptions of their daily interactions afterward.
Driven by that strong ego, Secretariat had become interested early on—near the end of her own career—in the rising Twilight Song, who had just started showing her true potential. She wanted to challenge Twilight Song at her peak, to validate herself.
Unfortunately, Twilight Song's accident at the Arc had dashed Secretariat's hope of facing who might've been the strongest opponent ever granted to her by the Three Goddesses.
Thus, moved by both personal and semi-official motivations, Secretariat traveled to Japan, leading to the incident known as "The Year-End Period Incident."
It was her way of reaffirming her own worth—a way of fulfilling a personal desire.
Twilight Song was a rival bestowed upon her by the Three Goddesses. Even if the ultimate match never occurred, Secretariat refused to let those lowlifes tarnish the glory of someone she personally acknowledged…!
Secretariat's voice held hints of embarrassment and resignation as she said these words over the phone. Both of them clearly understood the reason behind Secretariat's rarely revealed emotional complexity, but neither openly discussed it.
But what did all of this have to do with Flightline?
"Maybe due to my influence as her guardian back then, Flightline became particularly prone to getting swept up in self-created romantic ideals."
"The first time she saw footage of Twilight Song running, she immediately became obsessed. But at that point, Twilight Song was already at the King George VI Stakes. Besides, you know well enough—Twilight Song's true personality has always been an online mystery even now, hasn't it?"
Secretariat was indeed Secretariat. By the time she'd reached this part of her story, she'd completely regained her composure, and with a mischievous chuckle, she casually switched to another topic.
Indeed, Twilight Song's true character remained a worldwide curiosity even now. Unlike the legendary Uma Musume from that era who occasionally appeared on TV, Twilight Song had left behind no traces whatsoever of her private life. Even Mejiro Manor's residents, the few who might know the truth, consistently refused to publicly discuss anything personal about her.
The only known record might be that single limited-edition autograph donated to the museum, described by the fan who received it.
In that fan's eyes, the petite Twilight Song had unexpectedly been rather approachable. Although initially cold and aloof, she had proven gentle at heart, her kindness subtly revealed through small gestures.
That single account thus became the most credible evidence. Many firmly believed—or perhaps, were compelled to believe—that brief record. Yet, it was still just a fragment.
Many others preferred to imagine Twilight Song differently, to project their own idealized image onto the legendary Uma Musume.
In other words…
They created their own vision of a legendary Twilight Song.
It made perfect sense. Considering how few records existed about Twilight Song—and even if more did, it might not help—countless people inevitably projected their feelings onto her. Other Uma Musume experienced the same thing…
Just look at Oguri Cap or Seabiscuit! Plenty of fan works about them blatantly contradicted even publicly available information on social media—!
Therefore, Flightline was practically the best at this. After witnessing the miracle at the Arc through footage, Flightline's greatest regret was not having personally seen it.
Thus, she became consumed by it, repeatedly watching Arc replays and interviews obsessively, day after day, night after night.
And then, without Secretariat even realizing, Flightline suddenly started claiming she'd personally witnessed Twilight Song's miracle at the Arc.
"So, you're saying—uh, Flightline never personally saw it at all, and everything was just…her imagination?"
"Should I repeat myself again, Miss Song?"
Gotham Song didn't even know what kind of expression she was supposed to make after hearing this explanation. She only felt a buzzing in her head—previously, she'd already thought many Uma Musume at the races represented the peak of absurdity, yet unexpectedly, a hidden expert lurked here across the ocean?
Flightline, you're actually a master of brain theater?!
"In the end, who in this world would understand Twilight Song better than you, Miss Song? Could it possibly be Miss Ardan?"
"Anyway, what that child loves isn't Twilight Song herself, but rather the Twilight Song from her imagination—the Twilight Song who supposedly chased the ultimate limits, who pursued speed in its purest form, who left even death itself far behind."
Secretariat's voice was actually calm—so calm, in fact, that it made one wonder what exactly lay beneath that numb tone. Unfortunately, Gotham Song couldn't discern the exact emotion. Left with no choice, she could only imagine Secretariat was probably feeling frustrated.
Hah, at this very moment, I'm acting no differently than Flightline-san myself…
"So, if possible," Secretariat continued, "as her Trainer, can I trouble you to help that child understand?"
"Running is running. But the racetrack—"
"—is an entirely different place."
Secretariat's words still echoed clearly in Gotham Song's ears. Though she felt somewhat helpless about the whole matter, she was now Flightline's Trainer, after all. Since it was the request of the girl's own guardian, both emotionally and logically, Gotham Song had to treat this seriously, right?
Thus, Gotham Song earnestly used her absurdly small hands to firmly grasp Flightline's cheeks, forcing this now exceedingly weak, little-girl-like Flightline to look her directly in the eyes.
"I'll thoroughly—completely—reshape your way of thinking into what it should've always been. This process definitely won't be easy, so you'd better brace yourself properly."
"Prepare yourself—physically and mentally—got it?"
Flightline didn't dare answer loudly. She was frozen for a full few seconds before snapping back to her senses enough to nod meekly.
"I won't let anyone else take the victories from now on…definitely not."
Good. Now this kind of answer sounds more like it should be.
Ahem, I'd better hurry up and get off. Staying any longer might trigger weird Uma Musume-world tropes, and that wouldn't be good at all.
Gotham Song swiftly got up, even slightly flustered as she hopped off Flightline's bed and slipped her shoes back on.
However, during all of this, a pair of intensely focused, bright eyes remained fixed firmly upon her petite back. Flightline stared silently at Gotham Song's figure, an unreadable emotion filling her eyes.
Trainer-san is reliable when she's strict…but in other moments, she's really cute, isn't she?
Heh.
Utterly unaware of these thoughts, Gotham Song finished putting on her shoes and steadied herself against the cabinet, tapping the ground lightly with the tip of her foot to adjust the fit properly. Only once she felt fully at ease did she turn to glance back at Flightline, still lying obediently in bed.
"Alright, just rest properly for now. With how sturdy your body is, it was only exhaustion this time anyway. Once you recover, your tough days will really begin—so prepare yourself!"
Thanks to Gotham Song's intervention, Flightline's collapse from exhaustion had avoided the worst-case scenario. After resting a bit, she could soon return to training. Precisely because of this, Gotham Song felt confident enough to deliver this early warning clearly. Having said what she needed to, she opened the door and stepped out of the room—
—and immediately saw Donna waiting patiently outside.
"Miss Ardan asked me to tell you, Trainer-sama, that she'll arrive shortly to pick you up at the entrance. Please wait a moment."
"Alright…I understand."
Gotham Song felt slightly defeated. In truth, after today's training race, Flightline wasn't the only one who had changed—Donna had also undergone a noticeable shift. As if possessed, Donna had started referring to Gotham Song as "Trainer-sama" instead of just "Trainer," and no amount of correction seemed to help.
Her own Uma Musume was painfully earnest and strict; once Donna got it into her head to do something, it seemed she'd never let it go. Gotham Song had no choice but to just let it be.
After all, even if she was called this way, there wasn't really much she could do about it, right…?
"Oh right, Trainer-sama."
"Yes…?"
"Donna absolutely won't lose to that Flightline-san."
Whether in terms of strength, accomplishments, mentality—or…
Your attention, your regard, and your heart.
Everything that can possibly be grasped—
Donna intended to hold it firmly, unreservedly, in her own hands.
She wanted to become the absolute strongest in Gotham Song's grasp—an undisputed number one.
After all, the team she belonged to would surely stand at the absolute peak of the world, wouldn't it?
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T/N: YOUR HEART??? GENTILDONNA ARE U SURE:??