"—So, that kid really couldn't say anything back? She's sunk into deep thought already?"
"Mm. Flightline always feels a bit dense, but she's not actually an idiot… probably not, anyway."
Gotham Song sounded uncertain as she gave her answer. Immediately she found herself gently gathered into Mejiro Ardan's arms, the elder mare stroking her hair and cheek as they sat together in the car.
"Is that so. Then that's the best outcome. But you know, that child clearly isn't going to recognize her mistakes so easily."
"Yeah… so what should I do, Ardan-nee?"
"Of course, you stay by her side, teach her, and then—at the right time—tell her openly, honestly, what's truly right. Use your own running to teach her, Song."
Mejiro Ardan spoke softly, offering the advice of a more mature Uma Musume. Gotham Song hesitated a little, then nodded lightly.
Yes, it should be that way… to clearly show Flightline what's right and what's wrong, what kind of mindset an Uma Musume should bring to the racetrack.
Let me use running to teach your body this truth properly!
"Oh, right, Song. Secretariat asked me to tell you: in two or three days that company will probably contact you. When they do, just show up, record the intel completely, and submit it afterward. Don't worry about anything else."
"I see…"
Gotham Song didn't have more to say. She nodded, then voiced the question that had been bothering her.
"Come to think of it, doesn't this feel way too easy, Ardan-nee? Doesn't that company over there suspect me of having other intentions at all?"
"Of course not. Song, this is perfectly normal."
Mejiro Ardan blinked at her, then gave a completely different kind of answer.
"First of all, we're Uma Musume. And second, they very much want you on their side. This is enormous profit no one would easily walk away from."
As Mejiro Manor's number two, Ardan quickly laid out an explanation that made Gotham Song fully grasp the situation. Once she understood, she relaxed and nodded again.
"I see. Then there's nothing to worry about. Finish this up properly, and then we head to Dubai, right?"
When Gotham Song walked out of the company's campus, she finally came face-to-face with a part of the world she'd never touched before—the part that wasn't beautiful at all.
How to describe it?
Outwardly, the words were as dazzling as flowers. But the actual content couldn't be hidden.
In the simplest phrasing, what Gotham Song saw was a crowd of pitiful people, completely unrepentant for what they were doing—people who were even proud of it.
We're using science and technology to give Uma Musume better bodies, greater speed, more power, higher levels. We're doing something so magnificent…!
Was anything these people said true?
Of course not. "Not magnificent" didn't even begin to cover it; their deeds were unspeakable. Gotham Song knew well, because the intel she'd received from Secretariat had clear, damning data—
—data on what had become of the very first generation of Uma Musume who used these enhancement drugs. The results weren't just frightening; they were beyond shocking.
The fitness circle stays silent; only bad news keeps coming.
From Secretariat's previous explanation, Gotham Song already knew that American race regulations explicitly forbade this kind of thing, including combined pre-race physical checks.
But…!
Rules were dead. The inspectors were alive. And although "banned," everyone knew that in day-to-day training an Uma Musume might still come into contact with related substances. So there was a minimum baseline. In other words:
Violation only officially meant exceeding that threshold—the so‑called 10% content.
Thus, before many races, numerous Uma Musume would stop using the drugs just in time, using all sorts of methods—methods that had practically become an open secret—to ensure they passed pre‑race testing.
This had even turned into a tacitly accepted practice among all American competitors…!
In reality, this system was itself an accomplice in spreading drug use among American Uma Musume. The logic was simple: if other girls weaker than you—or equal to you—kept boosting themselves this way, threatening your position and your chances of victory, then as someone who originally didn't need to use anything but now faced unfair competition, what would you do?
Most American Uma Musume chose to join in, telling themselves they'd "fight back honorably with their own strength." And so, after burning through that "strength," America ended up with the highest rate of drug toxicity among Uma Musume in the world.
How else to describe it? It was simply unbelievable.
Gotham Song thought so too. But as she came back to herself, she could only give a bitter little smile, half-understanding why those Uma Musume had such thoughts.
This was one of the rare times she wore such a pained expression.
What was this phenomenon, really? Bad money driving out good? A climate that forced Uma Musume who never needed these things to do horrifying acts just to survive?
Gotham Song didn't know how to label it. But in any case, she now held in her skirt pocket the evidence that might bring this entire situation to an end.
After patting the hem of her white dress to confirm the recording was safe, Gotham Song stepped forward, leaving with Donna, and boarded the car home.
Yet the moment she sat down, she immediately felt Donna's intense gaze—like someone waiting for permission to speak.
"Donna…? Go on. I'm listening."
"Mm, then I'll say it, Trainer-sama… This kind of thing is just too much."
Donna clearly hated it. Her bright eyes radiated open disgust, and Gotham Song of course had no objection—she hated these people too, hated the reality they had created.
"I used to think it was just those Uma Musume's weakness that made them do such laughable things. Now it seems most of them actually have no choice, doesn't it?"
Why was it that they had no choice?
The logic was actually quite simple: if you were born inferior to others, if no matter how hard you pushed yourself in training you couldn't run faster, become stronger, or build more stamina than others—if you came to realize that even when you were desperately practicing, other Uma Musume could be shopping, eating, or sleeping, yet you still couldn't beat them in a race…
For creatures like Uma Musume, who lived as monsters craving speed, what kind of thoughts would this trigger?
I want to beat her… No matter what happens, I absolutely must beat her…!
In that situation, wouldn't going astray become almost inevitable? Seeking speed, seeking power, craving to be faster—to trample every rival beneath one's feet…! This desire was something any creature, in any world, at any age, would instinctively pursue. Donna, who worshipped strength above all else, easily understood such feelings.
If she hadn't been born into a prestigious family, if she hadn't been raised from childhood to be the absolute strongest who conquered all "by her own power," if Donna had instead grown up in a typical American racing environment—maybe even she would've joined those unfortunate Uma Musume in their foolish pursuit.
Precisely because she understood this clearly, Donna could recognize the depths of despair these Uma Musume had fallen into. She didn't want to see it continue. Even though many of these Uma Musume weren't her rivals, she still found this reality unacceptable.
Besides, Donna wasn't at all afraid that once these steroids vanished, some of these girls might actually become stronger, their true natures released, and pose a genuine challenge to her.
The stronger the opponents, the better!
"Chasing strength beyond anyone else is a natural instinct. But people are born inherently different. So those who rely on shortcuts later, using that twisted desire for power as a way to benefit themselves… people like that truly deserve to be destroyed, right?"
"That's right… People like them don't deserve saving or a chance to repent."
Maybe from the perspective of those company employees, it was all just making money, simply a matter of mutual agreement. But in reality, wasn't it just exploiting other Uma Musume's lives for profit—nothing short of pure murder…?!
"Relax, Donna. Soon, you'll witness the complete collapse and disappearance of these disgusting bastards!"
Gotham Song didn't say anything further, silently looking out the car window. It was in rare moments like these that she felt distinctly uncomfortable and helpless.
The reason was straightforward. While her current body's natural talents were indeed extraordinary, compared to other Uma Musume who'd poured in countless hours of sweat and tears to achieve their strength, hers had simply fallen into her lap—something that naturally accumulated with time.
Of course, Gotham Song couldn't possibly voice such absurd thoughts aloud. Instead, she just closed her eyes, quietly thinking about what she needed to do next.
Soon enough, Gotham Song returned home. Secretariat and Seabiscuit had clearly been waiting there for some time. The moment they received the evidence from Gotham Song, the two visibly relaxed, their tension dissolving completely.
"With this, our final evidence chain is completely secure. Those idiots actually dared to openly brag about their illegal activities as a selling point for endorsements—how hilarious."
Seabiscuit crossed her arms, leaning back and resting her feet casually on the table as if at home, openly displaying her disdainful disgust.
"If those fools didn't completely lack common sense and awareness, how else could they have ended up like this? Alright, alright, Miss Seabiscuit. We've already long understood exactly what kind of people they are, haven't we?"
Secretariat also seemed quite pleased, though outwardly she maintained her usual cool composure. Gotham Song didn't really mind, comfortably settling down between Manhattan Cafe and Mejiro McQueen and easing back into her normal routine.
"You know, originally I was pretty reluctant. But now, being part of something so meaningful—it no longer feels like wasted effort at all."
Gotham Song genuinely felt this way. At this moment, fully relaxed, she leaned lazily against her sisters, looking entirely drained and utterly like a salted fish who'd lost all motivation.
Seeing Gotham Song in this state, Secretariat didn't say anything further. She merely nodded toward Seabiscuit, then turned and walked toward the door, seemingly preparing to leave.
"Oh right, Miss Song. Dancing Brave asked me to pass along a message: there's no point for her to come back to America now. She'll wait for you in Dubai instead. Then—I'll see you again after some time."
"Mm, see you then."
After the issues back in Japan were resolved, Secretariat temporarily had no intention of continuing her global travels. Naturally, this meant Gotham Song, who couldn't stay in America for long, would soon be completely cut off from Old Bastard No. 2 for some time.
Honestly speaking, Gotham Song was a little reluctant. Though Old Bastard No. 2—Secretariat—was someone who, in every sense, enjoyed playing tricks on others, she really was incredibly reliable at crucial moments.
Moreover, even when she was busy scheming, Secretariat had never actually brought any harm to Gotham Song. Usually, she'd just push Gotham Song into action first, saving explanations for later.
Still, this bit of reluctance was only a tiny fragment of her feelings. If she compared, Secretariat naturally couldn't compete with Mejiro Ramonu's importance in Gotham Song's heart—!
Besides, what era was this? It wasn't the same year as that rainy Arc day when even nighttime photos turned out blurry. These days, if you really wanted to see someone, wouldn't a single phone call easily solve everything?
Precisely because of this mindset, Gotham Song nodded firmly.
"Alright, but just so you know—I definitely won't miss you!"
"Not even a little bit!"