Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! 2 [165]

“Really, it’s an honor to have you come in person, Miss Song. Weren’t we supposed to be the ones greeting you? And these two are…?”

“I actually prefer to come myself. Anyway, that’s not important. As for these two—one is my support Uma Musume, Gentildonna. And the other is… my kouhai, I suppose? Her name is Flightline.”

Gotham Song glanced behind her at Gentildonna, whose face was utterly expressionless, grave as ever, and at Flightline, towering at two meters tall, ice-cold face radiating silent pressure. For a moment she could only sigh inwardly.

How did it end up like this?

This morning, she had gone with Seabiscuit to New York International Airport to greet Gentildonna, who had flown in from Tokyo. The plan was simple: Ardan-nee-san and Cafe-nee would accompany Gentildonna to the supplement company, helping and protecting Gotham Song as she did her part.

But clearly, with Flightline and Gentildonna showing up here instead, something had changed.

Just before they set out, Gotham Song had found Flightline leaning against the iron gate, face twisted with hesitation. She was so lost in thought that even when the heavy door creaked open, she hadn’t noticed right away.

Then—

“Please let me come with you. I beg you. Whatever it is, I’m willing to do it.”

Yeah. That happened. And for a moment, Gotham Song hadn’t known how to react.

Wait, I’ve seen this episode before, haven’t I? Some horse girls already pulled this stunt ages ago. Right, Van Gogh?

She’d even once joked to herself: Wouldn’t it be funny if an American horse girl did the same thing?

But she hadn’t expected it. And yet here it was.

Like a boomerang she’d tossed out in the past, forgotten, only to have it arc back through time and nail her squarely in the chest.

Ow. That’s one hell of a boomerang.

Still, more than speechless, she was… curious.

Flightline, just a few days ago, had been haughty, all but snarling I will never acknowledge you! at her. So why, in just a handful of days, such a reversal?

So strange. So very strange.

Of course, she asked. And Flightline’s answer… left her momentarily at a loss.

She said—

“Even if I still cannot accept you, Miss Song… what matters more to me are those so-called supplements. Please, give me the chance to see them with my own eyes—and destroy them. Destroy those who trick Uma Musume’s pure feelings. I’ll do anything.”

That much was real. Gotham Song could tell. Flightline meant it. Every word.

Yes… if there was any Uma Musume who pursued speed in its purest form, it was her. And of course she would loathe supplement companies. But “tricking the pure feelings of horse girls”… what exactly did she mean?

Gotham Song gave her the nod. And so, the three of them departed, leaving the others behind, who had seen Flightline’s resolve and decided not to come. Gentildonna—who, to everyone’s surprise, actually had a driver’s license—took the wheel.

It was then that Flightline began to explain everything she knew. Words, in truth, that Secretariat herself had wanted Gotham Song to hear.

In the beginning, American horse girls had scorned supplements. And so it remained—until not long after Secretariat’s retirement. That was when the supplement companies, once merely serving ordinary humans, caught a break.

A certain Uma Musume—quirky in lifestyle, somewhat famous—had used their products. Not often, but enough that receipts existed.

The company seized the chance. They invited her to be their first spokesperson.

And from there, the story practically wrote itself.

The market was cracked open. Profits rolled in. And what do corporations do with profits?

They shovel every cent back in. Harder, deeper. Push the limits.

Supplements that had once been mere vitamins and shakes grew packed with tech and dirty tricks. Overdoses, overformulas, “enhancements” that bent every rule.

And with an ever-louder propaganda machine—and results that were, on the surface, visible—supplements became standard issue. To the point where, today, they were all but mandatory.

So much so that pure-blooded outliers like Flightline—born giant, chasing nothing but raw speed with her own body—were now the freaks.

And with her two-meter frame, a target for teasing, yet no friends.

Flightline had been fed up for a long time. What did it mean, “If you don’t take it, I will—I’ll have the lead before the race even begins”?

What kind of twisted culture was that?

She despised it. She wanted to shatter it herself. And that was why, when Secretariat told her of Gotham Song’s mission, she had rushed to Song’s door.

Only to freeze there, torn with hesitation.

But now, calm, her tone had no shyness at all—only conviction.

Gotham Song listened, absorbed it all, and at the end could only groan inwardly.

This isn’t even unique to Uma Musume, is it? Even with my old-world common sense, I get it. But then… her link to Secretariat—what’s the deal?

“Alright, but Flightline. What exactly is your relationship with Miss Secretariat?”

“I—I… tch. Fine. I’ll say it.”

She wavered, eyes squeezed shut, then let out a deep breath, bracing herself.

“She… she’s my… foster mother. Or guardian, if you prefer.”

“Oh, so she’s your guardian. I thought you meant your actual—wait. Guardian?!”

Gotham Song’s eyes went wide.

Flightline, practically debuting already, calling Old Bastard No. 2 her foster mother? Just how old was that woman—no, no, wait.

In the original world, she remembered: Tokai Teio and Symboli Rudolf were literal father and son. So here, even without blood, they’d been cast as senior-junior, deeply tied.

So if Flightline and Secretariat had that kind of link…

Could they be parent and child, in the horse world too?

The more she thought, the more wrong it felt. Her gaze toward Flightline turned stranger and stranger, until she forced herself to cut it off and return to the matter at hand.

Namely, the job waiting inside that company.

Flightline pledged unconditional support. She had no plan beyond see it with my own eyes, then cut them down. She admitted as much—Secretariat had told her, she’d come, and only now realized she had no actual plan.

So, just this once, she swore:

Whatever you do, Miss Song, I’ll back you. Just this once.

Gentildonna, for her part, had already declared she had no objections. But Gotham Song noticed the way, from the driver’s seat, Gentildonna kept sneaking glances at Flightline in the mirror as the latter spoke her heart.

Donna… you look interested, don’t you?

Song noted it. But there was no time to dwell—soon they were pulling into the corporate park, greeted by staff practically buzzing with excitement at her arrival.

And then, the exchange from the start.

“Flightline and Gentildonna, huh… both look so imposing. I’d heard Miss Song had qualified as a trainer—so are these two part of your team? Outside your main charge?”

The staffer was clearly fishing for connection, trying to chat as they walked toward the conference room.

Song hesitated. But Gentildonna, quick as ever, nodded.

“Yes. I’m one of her team’s Uma Musume. And this is Miss Flightline—”

“How could I possibly—”

“Ahem. I joined just two days ago.”

Gotham Song guessed Gentildonna had jabbed her from out of sight, nudging her to say it. Flightline had blurted her instinctive denial, but the correction came fast.

If not for Gentildonna, this idiot would’ve blown it.

“Though, you seem to know me well?”

She quickly steered the topic away.

The staffer’s face lit with pride.

“Of course! I’m a fan, Miss Song. After business is finished… could I maybe have your autograph?”

Song twitched at the corner of her mouth.

Too many fans isn’t always a good thing. What if my name shows up somewhere shady?

“If there’s time. I’ll think about it. For now, let’s talk business.”

“Of course. Please, this way.”

The staffer opened the conference room door.

Judging by her authority, she was no small fry—someone who could finalize a deal outright.

Exactly as Seabiscuit had warned: this company would throw everything on the table to win her endorsement.

So how to gather proof?

Simple. Gotham Song had come wearing a recorder, every word captured. And afterward, she’d press for dosage details under the pretext of negotiations, then hand the data over for testing.

Of course, the products’ tech and dirty tricks were already obvious—openly sold, their samples could be tested en masse. Enough to bury the company.

Her presence was more insurance than necessity—and, perhaps, Secretariat’s way of cutting her into the prize.

Song couldn’t quite grasp it. But she’d accepted, and so spent the afternoon wrangling words with the staffer until, finally, a tentative arrangement was reached.

Next week, she would tour their production site, examine the facilities, and then decide whether to sign.

Naturally, she never would. But without playing along, how else could she get what she wanted?

And so, when it was over, she rose with Gentildonna and Flightline to leave.

…And of course, she did not leave an autograph behind.

—

This is a fan translation of 只能活一年了才更要成为传奇赛马娘! by 大渚教 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!