[New Fanfic: Arcane: Welcome To Zaun]
"Uma Musume are a race born with an exceptionally strong fighting spirit.
When their pride and will to compete reach their peak, they can often surpass their own limits, burning themselves completely without regard for the consequences. Until they have utterly defeated their opponent, that flame will never die.
But not every Uma Musume is born with that kind of fierce desire to win.
Perhaps a certain person, a certain event, or a certain promise becomes the pillar that supports them for their entire lives.
That is why they develop such an intense obsession with victory, and with the act of running itself.
They run not only for themselves, but for others as well...
...
Outside Longchamp Racecourse, on the streets of Paris.
Show Dancer, who had fled the thunderous cheers inside the venue, was walking quietly along the sidewalk.
The sun had not fully set yet. The last glow of dusk spilled across Paris's bustling avenues, and the streets around her were still crowded.
"Papa, I want that ice cream over there!"
Just then, a family of three approached from the opposite direction.
The child held between her parents looked about four or five years old. She was gripping their hands and pointing innocently toward a dessert cart in the distance.
"Didn't you just have some?" her middle-aged father said, frowning as he refused her flatly.
"B-But... I still want some..." The child froze for a moment, then began pleading with wide, watery eyes.
"No. Tomorrow."
The mother beside him could not help smiling. She smoothed things over and said, "It's fine. Just one more, but no more sweets tonight, all right?"
As she spoke, she shot her husband a look.
"Yay!" The child's face lit up at once.
Her father shook his head helplessly, but his eyes were full of indulgent affection as he let the mother and child pull him toward the ice cream cart.
The family of three brushed past Show Dancer with light, cheerful laughter, then gradually disappeared into the crowd.
"..."
The dark-skinned girl stopped in place.
Without realizing it, she tightened her grip on the edge of her hood and stared blankly ahead, lost in thoughts even she could not sort out.
After standing there for a long while, she did not head straight back to Tracen Academy. Instead, she turned and walked into a fountain plaza.
She casually found a bench, sat down, braced both hands behind her on the seat, and lifted her head, staring blankly at the sky dyed red by the evening glow.
Her pupils were slightly unfocused. She had clearly fallen into a daze.
In her mind, countless tangled thoughts surged like the tide.
There were Dancing Brave's stern daily lectures and selfless help, the eager expectations of her classmates at the academy, and the figure of McQueen on the racetrack just now, claiming victory with a presence that seemed capable of crushing everything in her path...
Then, those images gradually faded.
At the far end of her memories was her own back, drenched in sweat.
On the track, in the gym, in the pool, before the bookshelves in the library...
Anywhere that could make her stronger had once held her figure.
And in those countless overlapping scenes, there had always been another figure beside her.
It was an aged body leaning on a cane, its back bent with time.
"Little Show, you still need to adjust the way you run."
"Little Show, stamina training is about stability. Don't just keep charging blindly."
"Little Show, it's time to eat..."
"Little Show..."
At last, all those warm images shattered. Replacing them was the grayest, darkest scene buried deep in her memory.
In a secluded corner of a training ground, a little uma musume who had not been chosen by anyone was crouching on the ground in loneliness.
She watched helplessly as those bright, polished Trainers picked her companions one by one.
As for her, it was as if the entire world had forgotten her and shut her away.
That tiny uma musume did not know how long she had stayed alone in the dark.
Not until she had nearly given up on herself did a gentle, kind voice suddenly reach her ears.
"Little one, why are you sitting here all by yourself?"
"..."
Her consciousness abruptly returned to the present. Show Dancer snapped back to herself and shook her head hard.
"What's going on...? Why do I keep thinking about the past lately? Am I getting old too?"
The dark-skinned girl muttered in confusion.
She sat there in a daze for a little longer, then took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and skillfully dialed a number.
A moment later, the call connected. From the other end came that kind voice that always made her feel at ease.
"What is it, Little Show? Is today's training over?"
Show Dancer's grip on the phone tightened slightly. For a moment, she did not speak.
But after only a single second of pause, when she spoke again, her voice had become lively and cheerful.
"No, Granny! I went to Longchamp to watch a race today."
"You skipped training to watch a race again..." The old woman sighed on the other end of the call, her tone full of long-practiced resignation. "Little John is going to come running to me to complain again."
Show Dancer curled her lips without the slightest concern and said casually, "I don't care about him. I'm your uma musume, Granny!"
"Yes, yes. That's my good girl."
The old woman chuckled softly, then her tone shifted and became gentle. "So... is something worrying you?"
...Granny is as sharp as ever.
Show Dancer understood at once. On her end of the line, she shook her head slightly, then flashed a huge, brilliant grin.
"There was a moment ago, but not anymore!"
"And one more thing! Granny, I have a race in a few days, so you have to remember to watch it!"
"All right, all right. I know."
After receiving the old woman's gentle promise from the other end of the phone, the dark-skinned girl hung up, put the phone back into her pocket, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"All right! Fully revived!"
Show Dancer suddenly opened her eyes. Boundless energy surged once more inside her chest, so fiercely that she wanted to rush back to the training grounds right now and run a few dozen extra laps.
Just you wait, McQueen!
And all you so-called legends too!
Wait for me. I'll surpass every last one of you!
Just as her blood was surging, a crisp conversation not far from her side suddenly caught her attention.
A woman in a fitted skirt was looking at her phone and let out a surprised cry.
"Eh? The entry lists for the Prince of Wales's Stakes and the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes are out!"
The man beside her spread his hands indifferently. "Don't they release the lists around this time every year? What's so surprising?"
"This time is different. Look at the entry list yourself!" As she spoke, the woman handed him her phone.
"All right, let me see... Telemon, oh! Generous is here too!"
The man read the names as he looked. When he reached Generous's name, his expression suddenly grew excited.
"She's competing too? Then we have to go watch this race!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. There's more. Keep reading."
The woman prompted him from the side.
"There's also... Singalo... and... Mejiro McQueen?" The man scratched his head in confusion. "That name sounds really familiar."
"Idiot."
The woman reached out and knocked him on the head, then said irritably, "Singalo and McQueen were the runner-up and winner of the Prix d'Ispahan that ended half an hour ago!"
"Oh, right, right!" The man suddenly understood. Then he stroked his chin and sighed. "Mejiro McQueen, huh... This Far East uma musume's race schedule is seriously aggressive. Three G1 races in just over two months? That's intense."
"What do you think?" the woman asked excitedly once her companion understood just how impressive it was.
"What else is there to think?" The man waved a hand with grand confidence. "We'll go to Britain for two months. Treat it as a vacation, and watch the races while we're there!"
"Yay! Darling, you're the best!"
The couple immediately embraced and kissed each other passionately. Show Dancer, who had been eavesdropping nearby, awkwardly hunched her shoulders and quickly turned her head away.
"The next two races are both in Britain..."
The dark-skinned girl lifted her head, her mind beginning to race.
Three consecutive G1 races in just over two months. That McQueen's confidence in her own strength was practically off the charts.
Mm... But if I had that kind of strength, I'd definitely be that confident too!
Show Dancer nodded while putting herself in McQueen's position and thinking it through for a moment.
After running those two graded races in Britain, if it were her, there would still be a stretch of downtime before the final Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. Under those circumstances, to maintain form and adapt to heavy going, what race would she choose next?
In the next instant, her gaze abruptly sharpened.
The Irish Champion Stakes!
Britain and Ireland were both part of the British Isles, separated only by the sea. The distance between the two countries was even just over twenty kilometers at its narrowest.
On top of that, last year, the gray-haired monster from the same team, Oguri Cap, had also campaigned in and dominated that race in the same year.
McQueen would definitely follow the momentum and challenge the Irish Champion Stakes too!
In other words, there was no need to wait until the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. Before the Arc even arrived, she would face McQueen head-on!
"...This is bad."
Show Dancer gently bit her silver teeth and frowned for a moment.
But in the next instant, her whole body paused. The corners of her mouth suddenly pulled wide, revealing a wild smile.
"But that's fine too... No, that's exactly what I wanted!"
She abruptly stood, turned cleanly, and left the fountain plaza.
No good. I have to hurry and find Brave-san, then make her train me until I drop!
...
Meanwhile, Kuroha and the others naturally had no idea what kind of fighting spirit the dark-skinned girl on the streets of Paris was burning with.
After holding a lavish victory banquet for McQueen's first European win, as was customary, three days passed.
A pure-white private jet roared into the sky from Charles de Gaulle Airport, pierced through the clouds, and flew steadily toward Ireland.
(End of Chapter)
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