Looking around the room, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer concentration of eccentric personalities that had clawed their way into the main draw. It was a colorful cast, to say the least—so colorful that I found myself wondering if their quirks outstripped their actual talent.
I managed to slip away from the girl who kept trying to pet my head and made a beeline for the bar. My eyes momentarily lingered on the "adult" selections reserved for the Legend Race participants, but I quickly looked away. I grabbed a glass of orange juice instead and took a slow, refreshing sip.
"Sticking to juice, are we?"
"I'm exercising self-restraint," I replied without looking back. "I'm a heavyweight when it comes to booze, but if I don't drink, I can't get drunk. It wouldn't do for the host of the party to be three sheets to the wind, would it?"
"I see. They call you the 'Sovereign Tyrant,' yet you possess an impeccable sense of decorum and responsibility. It makes the title seem almost ill-fitting."
"Call me whatever you like. Did you come over here just to critique my nickname?"
"Of course not. I came to say thank you."
If you're going to thank me, a little more respect in your tone wouldn't kill you, I thought, but I turned to face her anyway. She had sun-kissed skin and deep-chestnut hair styled in striking dreadlocks. If I recalled correctly, she was a competitor from the Himeji Training Center.
"I'm sure you already know, but allow me to introduce myself. Magnum Leon. I'm here because I wanted to offer my gratitude."
"I didn't do anything. My grandmother and 'Sue-chan' did the heavy lifting."
"You moved, so they moved," Leon countered firmly. "You were the catalyst. Therefore, my thanks go to you."
"Do as you please," I muttered.
Magnum Leon was another victim of the URA's rot. Born in Australia but moved to Japan due to her parents' circumstances, her debut was met with immediate hostility. A group of jealous rivals and their parents had fed the tabloids a string of fabricated scandals. The URA "Establishment," ever eager to maintain their version of "order," used those lies as leverage to bar her from graded stakes. She had been sidelined in her prime.
"In those suffocating days, you brought reform," Leon said softly. "This is my final chance..."
"Final?" I scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Chances are everywhere if you keep your eyes open and your ears to the ground. The Legend Race is always waiting for you—if you're fast enough."
I walked away before she could say anything else, but I could feel her bowing deeply behind my back. I've never been good at handling sincerity. Then again, being an adult often means doing things you're not "suited" for. It was a familiar weight, one I'd carried since my previous life.
Suddenly, I found myself craving that drink after all... just one glass wouldn't hurt, right?
"Hahaha! Oh, this is heaven! Delicious booze as far as the eye can see—bless the Mejiro family and their deep pockets! Ahahaha! This is the life! I love it! The sake is top-tier, the beer is cold, the wine is flowing, and the snacks? Magnificent!"
My hopes for a quiet drink were dashed. A seasoned drunkard had already laid siege to the bar. Despite this being a standing buffet, she had somehow commandeered a table and a chair, turning her corner into a private tavern. She was a Legend Race participant, dressed in a white, priestess-like one-piece that made her look like a refined Yamato Nadeshiko—an image thoroughly ruined by the mountain of empty bottles surrounding her.
She spotted me and raised a glass.
"Well, well! If it isn't the world-renowned Mejiro Rampage-sama! Why not join me? A drink shared with a legend like you would taste ten times better!"
"If we're going to have a drinking contest, let's do it one-on-one, somewhere far away from the minors," I said dryly. "And try to remember you're supposed to be a 'Legend' now, Hosho Tsukige-san."
"Oh, I'm not nearly enough of a big shot to be called a Legend," she chuckled, her eyes misty with alcohol.
Hosho Tsukige. In her prime, she had terrorized the regional circuits before launching a brutal "invasion" of the Central tracks. Her wild, unrestrained style had earned her the title "The War God of the Regions." Now, she served as a priestess at her family's temple while working as an instructor. You're less of a priestess and more of a war horse, I noted internally.
"Still, looking at this lineup... it's going to be a fun race," Tsukige mused. "I'm glad my trainer talked me into entering."
"It wasn't just for the free booze?"
"Well, that was a major factor."
"Oi."
"Hehe! ♪"
She was impossible to read—perhaps because she was genuinely hammered. Still, if she was enjoying herself, I suppose that was a victory in itself.
"Hey, can I take some of this home?" she asked, gesturing to the bottles.
"Don't be greedy."
Maybe if there are leftovers, I thought. I found myself questioning if she was truly here for the race, but in that moment, I saw her eyes change. The drunken haze vanished for a split second as she looked across the room at a girl talking to Maruzensky. There was a history there, a spark of old rivalry—but she quickly broke into a grin again.
"Ignore me. I just realized how much I want to run with them again," she said.
"Fine by me. Just enjoy yourself."
"I already am! ♪"
Seeing her like that made me thankful for my high alcohol tolerance. She was slightly flushed, but her speech was perfectly clear; she was likely far more sober than she let on. The Legend Race was turning out to be just as "dense" with personality as the Finals.
"Kora, Oguri!! Show some restraint!!"
"But Tama... Rampage said we could eat until we were full..."
"She meant don't leave the others with nothing! We can't hog the whole buffet, it's embarrassing!"
"I see... understood."
"This dish over here is also delicious. Let's try the next station."
I stood corrected. The Legend Race wasn't just "dense"—it was a madhouse. Between the gluttons like Oguri and Tamamo Cross, and the impending arrival of Maruzensky, the TTGC crew, and Katsuragi Ace... it was going to be a spectacle. I had prepared for this, but the looming headache was very real.
"Um... are you alright?"
"Hm? Oh... yeah. Thanks for asking."
A glass was held out to me. It wasn't orange juice this time, but carrot juice. I took a long pull, the cool liquid soothing my throat. As a Horse Girl, my body hummed with far more appreciation for this than it ever would for alcohol.
"Thanks. It was... Veltro, right? Or would you prefer 'Saetta'—the Lightning of Italy?"
"Whichever you prefer," the girl replied with a soft smile. "I've finally grown accustomed to Japanese now."
My benefactor was Veltro, a competitor from a general school in Nagasaki. She had a gentle, airy personality that felt almost ethereal. She reminded me of a certain destroyer from a ship-girl game, but I brushed the thought aside. If I started comparing Horse Girls to other gacha games, I'd lose my mind.
"What do you think of the Finals?" I asked. "It must have been a shock, coming out of nowhere like this."
"It was... but it made me very happy. I wasn't able to enter Tracen, you see."
Having lived in Italy until she was fifteen, she had struggled with the language requirements and the timing for Tracen's entrance exams. She had eventually given up on the elite academies and enrolled in a regular high school.
"I hesitated to enter. I really did... but my father, my mother, my friends, and my teachers all told me to run. They pushed me all the way here. I'm here to win for them."
"That's a hell of a motivation," I said, feeling a twinge of envy. "Must be nice to have people pushing you like that. I just kicked the gate open and performed a Great Escape before anyone could stop me."
"Oh my!" she giggled.
We talked for a while—a small return for the carrot juice. As we spoke, I realized that my "selfish" little rebellion had become a turning point for so many people. It was a catalyst, a spark of hope, or a second chance. For a brief moment, looking at Veltro's earnest face, I thought to myself: Maybe all that effort was worth it after all.
Historical Note: Mejiro Rampage After Retirement
In recognition of her monumental contributions to the Mejiro family and the Japanese racing world, Mejiro Rampage was granted a lifestyle similar to that of the legendary Northern Taste. She was given a private stable and a dedicated paddock that she could enter and exit at her whim.
However, because she spent most of her time as a Lead Horse, her "private" paddock essentially became a sanctuary. It served as a playground for the weanlings she nurtured and a peaceful retreat for her children and grandchildren when they returned to the farm for rest.
Rampage herself seemed to prefer this arrangement. She was never happier than when she was surrounded by her sprawling lineage, reigning over her quiet sanctuary as both a legendary sovereign and a doting matriarch.
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