"Hey, Sunday. You want to grab a drink at my place?" Rampage asked as they stepped away from the press room.
"With an Irish Princess living under your roof? Not a chance in hell I'm drinking there," Sunday snapped.
"Oh... right. I forgot about Fine," Rampage muttered, scratching his head.
The group—including Rudolf and the Symboli contingent—let out a collective, weary sigh as they finally arrived back at the Mejiro Estate. Whether they couldn't stand to stay in that room another second or they simply had too much to process, the entire party that had witnessed the encounter had migrated back to the Mejiro residence.
"That was... intense, in every sense of the word," Rudolf murmured. "Are all international horse girls like that?"
"Don't you dare go thinking she's the standard," Sunday grunted. "I didn't spend two years in the States for you to get the wrong idea about my career."
Rampage nodded in agreement. Even Sirius, who had spent a significant amount of time overseas, looked like she needed to set the record straight. If they started grouping the Irish-born Fine Motion in with someone like Easy Goer, it would be a diplomatic disaster.
"What was wrong with her?!" McQueen suddenly exploded, her voice echoing through the hall. "I am absolutely, positively livid! Why did I have to retire?! If I were still active, I'd take it upon myself to crush her into the dirt!"
"Easy, McQueen. She's a dirt racer, and she's already retired anyway," Rampage said, trying to soothe her.
"That is not the point! I am so angry I've... I've developed a Mejiro-level headache!"
"That's a new one," Rampage muttered.
It was a strange sight: the primary targets of the insult, Sunday and Rampage, were relatively calm, while McQueen was the one vibrating with pure, unadulterated rage. Perhaps she was venting the anger they were too tired to express. Neither Asama nor Su-chan moved to stop her; they simply watched with curious expressions.
"Wait, why are you two looking at the Symboli sisters like that?" Rampage asked, noticing Su-chan's gaze. "And Grandma Asama, why are you staring at McQueen like she's a museum exhibit?"
"Oh, nothing," Su-chan chirped. "I was just thinking how lucky I am that Ru-chan and the others grew up to be such good, healthy girls."
"I was thinking the same of McQueen," Asama added warmly. "She truly is a wonderful child."
While that sentiment fit Rudolf and Sirius well enough, hearing it applied to the currently-fuming McQueen felt a bit... ironic.
"Seriously though," Rampage said, steering the conversation back. "How does someone even end up like that? That 'Easy Goer' girl... she felt hollow."
"I wish I could say I didn't know, but I've heard the stories from 'The Great One' himself," Sunday said, her voice turning grim as she relayed info she'd gathered via Secretariat.
"Her family is like the Symbolis or the Mejiros—old money, top-tier pedigree. But America has this obsession with bloodlines and aesthetics. Then comes Goer: a girl who looks like a literal painting and has talent that's actually the real deal. Her parents didn't see a daughter; they saw a masterpiece. They put her through total information control and 'pedigree-appropriate' education. Her trainers weren't mentors; they were business managers. They handled the logistics and were forbidden from interfering with her 'brand.'"
The "Successor to Secretariat" was a product, polished to a mirror finish by parents who had used every resource at their disposal to ensure she never veered from the path they chose.
"So she just did what she was told, when she was told?" Sirius asked, her lip curling in disgust. "I can't even imagine living like that."
"Neither can I," Sunday agreed. "But the thing is, she had a million chances to change. No matter how much you control someone's info, there's a limit. She chose to just... accept it. She went into a state of total mental stagnation. 'Whatever Mother and Father wish'—gah, it makes me sick."
McQueen's voice rose, louder and clearer than before, cutting through the cynicism.
"It is true that every Great House has its circumstances. We carry expectations; that is a fact. But the one who fulfills those expectations is the self! What we can do, how we should act, the spirit with which we face the world—those are things we must decide, walk toward, and earn through our own effort!"
McQueen stood tall, the quintessential Mejiro heiress.
"I dedicated myself to winning the Tenno Sho because I learned the spirit and the dreams of the Mejiro horse girls who came before me. I wanted to be like them! I didn't run that race because I was told to!"
She looked at Rampage, then at the others.
"I ran because of Rampage-san, and Ryan, and Ikno, and Flora... because of Teio! I fought them all and I wanted to win from the bottom of my heart! But that girl... I felt none of that from her. She isn't a competitor. She's just a doll."
A high-performance, beautiful puppet. A horse girl without a soul.
"If I had to race with someone like that as a partner, I'd lose my motivation instantly," Sirius muttered.
"Agreed," Rudolf said. "No matter how high her stats are, I'd want no part of it."
Rampage thought for a moment. If he had to choose a training partner between the "perfect" Easy Goer and someone like Haru Urara, he'd pick Urara in a heartbeat. At least Urara's heart was in the race.
"Perhaps," Su-chan said, her eyes twinkling with a hidden depth, "someone is hoping that this encounter will be the thing that finally changes her."
"Who the hell would be aiming for that, Speed-ontai?" Sunday asked.
"Call me Su-chan, dear. We're all friends here, aren't we? You, me, and Ran-chan?"
"Friends...?" Sunday and Rampage exchanged a look of pure skepticism. Who in their circle would care enough about Easy Goer to orchestrate this?
"Is it the Great One himself? No, Secretariat would have just handled it directly," Sunday mused.
"I'm not exactly 'friends' with the US top brass," Rampage added. "Wait... Su-chan, are you talking about that 'Freedom President'?"
"Ding-dong! Give the boy a prize," Su-chan smiled.
Across the Ocean
"Do you really think she'll change, Mr. President?"
"If she doesn't, then this truly is the end for her," the man replied, looking out over the landscape alongside Secretariat.
The world of horse racing was changing rapidly, triggered by the "Tyrant" in Japan.
"She is the crystallization of our country's worst habits," the President continued. "The obsession with image, the push from parents and pedigree... she is a distorted result of what we called 'success.' If we don't break that mold now, we never will."
Education had succeeded so well it had failed the person inside.
"It's impossible to change her overnight," Secretariat noted. "That's why we need to leave a deep scar. Wounds heal, but the pain and the memory of the injury remain. It forces you to work so you never feel that pain again."
"Forgive me for using your position for this, Mr. President."
"Nonsense. Taking the heat for things like this is exactly what a leader is for. We are challengers. We must change what needs changing and preserve what deserves to stay. That is the only way forward."
The President's smile turned mischievous, almost childlike.
"Now, it's time for us to take a brave step forward. We shall establish the USA Finals and the Legend Races. I expect you to use your strength to the fullest, Secretariat."
"Understood."
"I look forward to seeing the King of G1s."
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