Question: What’s it like being tailed by a ghost while you’re out with someone?
Answer: At first, it’s terrifying. After seeing it enough times, you get used to it. Eventually, you might even wave dismissively at the specter hovering around you.
After making plans with Manhattan Cafe, Gotham Song left a note telling Neo Universe where they were going. Not that it mattered much—Neo Universe had probably seen scenarios like this countless times already.
Still, Song left the note anyway, and then headed out with Manhattan Cafe toward the station.
Rule Two: It’s safe to be with Manhattan Cafe.
That meant nothing strange should happen along the way. Comforted by that thought, Song grabbed the hem of Cafe’s sleeve. Cafe blinked, then gently held her cousin’s hand in hers.
Once on the train, though, Song repeatedly caught sight of someone lurking in the otherwise empty carriage.
Long hair loose around her shoulders, a black coat draped casually, and a revolver spinning idly in her hand—Sunday Silence ignored even Cafe’s questioning gaze, her eyes locked squarely on Gotham Song.
Normally, this would have been unsettling, but after ten full minutes under that stare, Gotham Song had a ludicrous idea:
Could I snatch that revolver and fire it myself?
Maybe I’ll try sometime.
She glanced toward Manhattan Cafe, who was still futilely trying to communicate with her invisible “Friend.”
“Oh, right—Cafe-nee-san, your next race is coming up soon, isn’t it?”
Cafe nodded. Although her results since debut had been mixed, she’d reached a point where she could participate in major rookie stakes.
“I’ll come watch your race. Do your best, Cafe-nee-san!”
Since Cafe was protecting her, it was probably best to keep a good relationship. Cafe paused briefly, slightly surprised, before nodding slowly.
“I will. Song, you should also focus on your rookie year. And…have you practiced for the Winner’s Stage yet?”
“Ah—ah haha… hahaha…”
Gotham Song awkwardly looked away.
Despite arriving from America, she’d technically debuted a long time ago in this life, even enrolling in Central Tracen under the banner of a foreign expedition.
Many might wonder: wouldn’t this affect her eligibility?
Not at all—in fact, it was encouraged.
Only Japanese Uma Musume trained overseas faced restrictions. Completely foreign-trained competitors had no barriers, even receiving preferential treatment.
That explained why Gotham Song’s rookie debut in Japan was going so smoothly.
Still, about the Winner’s Stage…
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to perform, but—
How should she put it? Last lifetime, Twilight Song’s refusal was partly due to her fragile health, but the main reason was even more embarrassing…
She simply couldn’t sing or dance at all.
She might have a pleasant voice in both lives and decent vocal ability, but there was one fatal flaw:
She genuinely had no talent for performance. It was like math problems—she just couldn’t grasp it!
“Um, can I skip it?”
Gotham Song weakly raised her hand. Amid Sunday Silence’s loud laughter, unheard by anyone else, Cafe ruthlessly rejected her request.
“But I can’t! I seriously can’t do it!”
Cafe looked puzzled for a moment, then finally understood the problem.
“Song… you can’t sing?”
Even Cafe felt an indescribable chill run down her spine amid Sunday Silence’s merciless laughter, like an icy breeze blowing through a nonexistent gap in the carriage.
“It’s okay—I’ll teach you. I’m…actually quite good at singing.”
“Um, o-okay…sure…”
What else could she do but agree?
But still… Manhattan Cafe teaching her to sing—wasn’t that basically Ogura Yui teaching her? Well, whatever. If it was really necessary, she’d try a little. Worst case, she’d just give up later.
The conversation stalled there. Meanwhile, Sunday Silence was enthusiastically performing an impromptu idol dance routine right in front of them. Cafe, uncertain how to explain this to her oblivious cousin, had no choice but to ignore her friend’s chaotic dance.
In this bizarrely cheerful atmosphere, the train finally arrived near the racecourse.
The moment they stepped off, Gotham Song grabbed Cafe’s hand and dashed out as fast as if she were chasing victory at the Sanzu River Stakes, eager to escape the ghostly madness behind her.
“Song… Why the rush?”
“Um… Because the race is about to start, right?”
Hearing that, Cafe smiled softly. Song was excited even about strangers’ races—how much more enthusiastic might she be when it came to Cafe’s own stakes?
“Hanshin… Top pick, Mejiro McQueen, the Pitch-Black Lady, huh…”
Cafe murmured softly, looking up at the screen above. Gotham Song twitched her ears, overhearing everything clearly.
Top pick—great. But what exactly did “Pitch-Black Lady Mejiro McQueen” mean?
Did McQueen wear an all-black racing outfit now? That didn’t seem right.
Asking didn’t yield any clear answers—though Sunday Silence cryptically whispered ahead:
You’ll see exactly why she’s called the Pitch-Black Lady when the race begins…
Whatever. The race was starting soon anyway. She’d just pay careful attention and find out herself. Surely McQueen hadn’t gained weight and started wearing black because it was slimming? If that was the case, Gotham Song would absolutely photograph every glorious moment, her beloved little pudgy sister!
Crossing the stands, Hanshin Racecourse’s lush turf stretched out before them. They’d cut it close, and thanks to Sunday Silence’s invisible interference, they reached the front row just as the countdown hit its final seconds.
Then, amid a wave of cheers from the crowd, Gotham Song finally realized why McQueen earned her ominous nickname.
Her racing outfit wasn’t notably different from before—certainly nothing darker than Cafe’s current attire. But that was merely what human eyes saw.
What only an Uma Musume could witness was entirely different.
When Mejiro McQueen shot out of the starting gate with incredible speed, Gotham Song felt her entire understanding of reality collapse.
Because from that exact moment, sinister threads of black energy, like lingering resentment, wrapped themselves around McQueen.
This was the real reason Mejiro McQueen was called the Pitch-Black Lady—not due to her clothing style, but because the aura surrounding her was genuinely pitch-black.
A pressure visible only to fellow Uma Musume.
It was as though Mejiro McQueen was on a ruthless path toward becoming a tyrant on the racetrack…
—
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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