Sunday Silence dissipated.
That’s not an exaggeration. At least, Gotham Song had no personal wish for it—she was simply stating what happened as objectively as possible.
After Old Bastard No. 1 endured Manhattan Cafe’s “orthopedic miracle,” she hadn’t shown her face for three full days. It was like she’d been crushed into dust.
Well… if it wasn’t a miracle, what else would you call it?
That was someone getting her neck twisted a full one-eighty!!
Something like that—even Agnes Tachyon would click her tongue and say, “Yeah, no, she’s done.”
At least, that was what Gotham Song thought. From the bottom of her heart, she was grateful her sister had never lost her temper with her—and that she’d never done anything to truly piss Manhattan Cafe off.
Otherwise… she didn’t even dare imagine the consequences. Tsk.
But that was for later.
Right now, Gotham Song couldn’t have cared less. She was sprawled on the grass, soaking in a pleasant noon under the sun.
Maybe it was a species thing after crossing worlds. She wasn’t about to start eating sod, but she’d unexpectedly come to love the smell of fresh grass—something she’d never noticed before.
And she wasn’t lying here alone, either.
Another Umamusume was beside her—and dressed so oddly that Gotham Song couldn’t help paying attention.
I mean. In the blazing June midday sun, what kind of Umamusume lies on the grass in a white lab coat, sunbathing? Back in her old world, wouldn’t that count as… insane?
Gotham Song thought it would. At the very least, she couldn’t imagine what lying on grass under that sun would feel like in a human body.
Just look—under the twelve-o’clock sun, there wasn’t a single human Trainer on the field.
If you raised your eyes, the only things you could see were foals running around.
Faced with that, there was only one conclusion to sigh.
Umamusume are wild, huh? So wild they don’t even have to fear the sun!
Just a heat shimmer.
“Still… I really didn’t expect you to be this bold, Song-chan,” Agnes Tachyon said.
“Eh. Maybe bolder than before,” Gotham Song replied easily, like everything Tachyon had learned about her was just a misunderstanding. “But you know how it is. When an Umamusume’s about to step off the front line, she always goes a little crazy at the end, right?”
In fact, the stronger the legendary Umamusume, the more likely they were to do something downright mad right before retirement. It was practically tradition. There was even a term for it among Trainers: “retirement syndrome.”
The symptoms were simple: the more famous and formidable the Umamusume, the more extreme the things she did as her career approached a turning point.
Gotham Song had heard of it.
And now, she finally understood how those legendary seniors had felt.
Why do something the world calls “crazy”?
Usually, why does a legend retire?
Nine times out of ten, it’s because her competitive state is fading away—or because of some other messy, unavoidable reason.
So when you’re about to leave the stage you fought on for so long… wanting to go all-in one last time makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?
Especially now, when Gotham Song had decided to step back from the front line for her juniors—she could understand her predecessors even more.
Which was why she’d come up with an idea that Agnes Tachyon found insane, and yet couldn’t help but admire.
“And rule-wise, it’s actually pretty feasible,” Gotham Song added.
“Yeah. It really is,” Tachyon said, half-amused. “Even if it sounds outrageous. Those are two top-tier G1s held on the same day.”
Two top-tier races on the same day—what were they?
Each carried a name that could drive any Umamusume mad.
The Breeders’ Cup Turf, and the Breeders’ Cup Classic.
Normally, no Umamusume would choose to enter both. They demanded a terrifying level of form and competitive ability. In most cases—really, up to now—history had never seen an Umamusume attempt both races on the same day.
But if they were held on the same day… could you enter both?
Procedurally, yes. Absolutely.
When Gotham Song learned that, she was genuinely surprised.
But thinking about it, it made perfect sense. An Umamusume like her—with a mountain of prize money and fans—never had to worry about getting shut out of entry.
If she signed up, she’d be first or second in popularity, guaranteed.
But what about Umamusume who didn’t have her kind of prize money or fanbase—Umamusume who had to fight over entry slots?
That slot competition—deciding who gets to enter based on accumulated prize money—naturally led to another rule:
Succession order.
What did “succession order” mean? If you used prize-money ranking to finalize the entrant list, then once the list was set, what happened if someone couldn’t run due to an accident?
Would the race just lose an entrant?
To prevent that, there was a succession mechanism.
In practice, before the race began, beyond the confirmed entrants—say, sixteen Umamusume who would actually run—the organizers would also invite other applicants to the venue in prize-money order.
The benefit was obvious.
If something unexpected happened, the race could still keep its full field. Not a single slot would be wasted.
So what did that have to do with Gotham Song entering the Breeders’ Cup?
Everything.
Because once you had succession order, wouldn’t something else naturally emerge in the real world—something everyone tacitly accepted?
Overbooking. That was how Gotham Song described it.
Umamusume who felt their competitiveness wasn’t strong enough would enter multiple races before the event, to make sure they’d be able to stand on a track somewhere.
And the organizers didn’t seem to object. They allowed it.
So once you fed that into succession order, what did it mean in practice?
If you were accepted into two or three races, you had the right to choose which one you’d actually enter.
So what did Gotham Song want to do?
Simple.
Enter two races—and choose to run both.
With her prize money, she had the right to enter both of them.
“Procedurally, it’s completely possible,” Tachyon said. “Operationally, the morning and afternoon races are handled by entirely different teams, and both of them will desperately want you on their start list.”
“So if you decide you’re running the second race too, then no matter what—at least from the organizers’ side—you won’t meet any resistance…”
A flawless “open” scheme—one you couldn’t even call underhanded. The only real obstacle was how you’d actually make it onto the afternoon track in time. That was it.
Tachyon sighed. She’d thought it from the moment she met Gotham Song: this one didn’t feel like an Umamusume.
She felt like a human—emotions just as delicate and raw, but with a stubborn decisiveness… and a slyness that went beyond an Umamusume’s simple-minded innocence.
Back then, she’d already been like that.
Now…
She felt more like an Umamusume—and less like one.
More like one, because she’d actually caught “retirement syndrome.”
Less like one, because she could craft such a precise plan that exploited a gap in the rules.
And she’d come to Tachyon today for one reason:
Gotham Song wanted her to verify, from a scientific angle, whether she had the physical ability to fight two major races back-to-back.
And the result?
Forget two. With enough rest time, Gotham Song might even be able to run three in a row.
What a monster of a body…
Tachyon couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Compared to most Umamusume, she’d had it far worse—a girl who couldn’t run by choice.
But she knew that even if she’d had her old physique, she probably still wouldn’t have had a plan this insane.
Because that was two top-tier races in one day. You’d come off the morning track and immediately start preparing for the afternoon. The mental pressure alone was unimaginable.
And what made Tachyon want to tear her hair out even more was—
After finishing both Breeders’ Cup races, Gotham Song would enter the Dream Cup the very next day.
Unthinkable.
Or rather… once she got to that point, Tachyon couldn’t keep certain words from rising to her throat.
“Song,” Tachyon said, curiosity finally winning out.
She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one arm, looking at the Umamusume beside her—the one gazing at the sky with her eyes narrowed in pure comfort—thinking back on everything since they’d met.
From the little moments, all the way to today, when she’d suddenly shown up at her door.
She really had changed. In every sense.
So what, exactly, was driving her to enter both Breeders’ Cup races—pull off something this jaw-dropping?
“Hmm? You’re asking me, Tachyon-neesan?” Gotham Song said.
“Yeah. I want to know why you want to enter three races back-to-back.”
Why…
It really was the kind of question that left you blank for a moment. Gotham Song wanted to answer, Just on a whim—
But even she didn’t believe that.
So what reason could push someone who “wasn’t originally an Umamusume,” someone who “wasn’t even interested in running,” into having a plan this bold and flamboyant?
First, Gotham Song had to admit something:
She… really did, maybe… kind of like the feeling of the track.
In this world, where did she receive the most recognition?
The people around her believed in her unconditionally—but they were too close, too familiar, their voices too small compared to the public’s judgment.
Most of the recognition that truly belonged to her came from the track.
And as a legendary Umamusume, that recognition was even more abundant.
Maybe that was part of it. Maybe there were other reasons.
The wind on the track really did feel incredible. Running really did feel exhilarating. Competing with opponents—being targeted, then leaving them behind so completely they couldn’t catch her—was intoxicating.
In any case, there was one truth Gotham Song had to acknowledge:
The version of her who’d once been human… genuinely loved the track now.
On that front, she was starting to feel like an Umamusume.
Maybe it was also habit. These days, if she didn’t run for a while, she really would feel awful all over.
But Gotham Song thought that was because she loved the track—loved running—from the bottom of her heart.
Otherwise, where would this urge to “go crazy one last time” before stepping back even come from?
Gotham Song never lied to herself. She could feel her emotions—feel everything in her—and feel the real reason behind this decision.
It would shock her fans. It would stun the whole world.
And more importantly—
If she took those two wins and then challenged the Dream Cup, claimed an even greater honor…
She’d become someone no one on earth could ignore.
The undisputed, rightful Number One in Umamusume history.
Just imagining that outcome made Gotham Song tremble.
Not from nerves.
From excitement—a nameless fighting will clawing at her skin.
She practically wanted to blink once and wake up inside the Breeders’ Cup already.
So why did she have this bold idea—so close to hysterical, so crazed that even Agnes Tachyon had to ask why?
The answer was simple.
Only a few words.
How should she say it?
Gotham Song looked at Agnes Tachyon, then lay back again. She raised a hand high to shield the sun.
“Maybe… because I’ve become an Umamusume.”
—
T/N: oh do you guys know about John Umamusume, yeah won breeders cup twice in a row, was born on cygames anniversary, owned by cygames fucking g1 beast omggggggggggg his grandpa is deep impact and his great grandpa is sunday silence theres alot more but wowee
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!
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