Only One Year Left—I'll Become a Legendary Uma Musume!-Chapter 284: Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! 2 [228]

Chapter 284: Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! 2 [228]

After being completely crushed, Mejiro Ardan was oddly easygoing about it. She’d been away from the racecourse for a long time, after all—she had no complaints about losing.

Or rather—since it was their Song, shouldn’t she of course be able to defeat an Uma Musume who’d been retired for ages?

Because she was that strong. Their cutest. Their precious little sister.

Once they slowed to a stop, Mejiro Ardan stepped forward lightly. There was no real need—someone as strong as Song wouldn’t show fatigue—but Ardan still fell back on habit, taking out her silken handkerchief and gently wiping at her sister’s forehead.

"Mm? It’s just a warm-up—I’m not even sweating yet, Ardan-nee. You don’t have to."

"But I want to," Ardan said softly. "Honestly... what am I going to do with you, Song?"

"What am I going to do with you..."

"..."

When was the first time she’d ever wiped sweat from Song’s face?

How far back did it go—how long ago was "long ago," really?

Ardan’s memories drifted, drifting—until they were so far away they almost didn’t feel like her own. The first time she pressed that handkerchief to her little sister’s head... what was it like then?

Back then, her little sister couldn’t bring herself to refuse anything Ardan suggested anymore.

Yes. After that incident—after that flash of red, blood-bright—Ardan herself had been seized by thoughts that were ugly and excessive. After tasting Twilight Song’s carefulness—her tiptoeing around her—there had even been a moment when Ardan thought...

If Ruka won’t resist anything I say, then even if I go too far... a little farther... farther, farther, farther, farther, farther...

...Wouldn’t that still be okay?

Ardan couldn’t understand why such thoughts even appeared. She didn’t know what to make of them. Song being obedient was a good thing, wasn’t it? After that, all she had to do was use that opening to help her little sister slowly open up—wasn’t that better?

Her fingers, through the handkerchief, traced Song’s cheek—light, careful... and yet lingering. Even with the fabric as a barrier, Ardan could still feel it: that astonishing softness.

She’d touched her little sister’s cheeks countless times before. Sure, back then she hadn’t been touching the Song in front of her now—not this grown skin, at least.

But what did it matter?

Growing up didn’t just change the heart. The body changed with time, too. The cheek you touched now would become a different texture years later.

But there was one thing that would never change, no matter what—Mejiro Ardan was truly touching Gotham Song’s cheek. And as long as she could do that, wasn’t it enough?

Touching Song. Touching Ruka. Touching...

...The one she loved.

What kind of expression had Ruka worn back then, when she was being touched?

Honestly? Ruka used to look simply confused, even when she was being petted—blinking, tilting her head a little as she looked over, waiting for whatever Ardan would say next.

Like a doll that would never respond on its own.

But wasn’t that Ruka adorable too?

She’d been so small. When you held her, she was soft and clingy—warm, sweet, smelling nice, skin so smooth...

And it was only after that race ended that Ardan could finally do something she’d always wanted to do, but couldn’t.

Back when Ardan was still active, there had been only one time: Mejiro Ramonu had wiped her sweat-soaked cheek after a race.

In that moment, Ardan had felt her life as an Uma Musume had been acknowledged by family—that it had gained tremendous meaning. Under Ramonu’s gentle, unhurried touch, a fragile flower that should’ve withered in a hospital room instead received sunlight.

Mejiro Ardan—reborn by miracle.

So afterward, having been warmed by that single beam of sun just once, Ardan couldn’t stop thinking: if she could have even a moment like that, couldn’t she pass it on?

As an older sister.

And so Ardan—who’d been given that moment only once—earnestly, clumsily, using everything she could, tried to pass it on. She offered it to Gotham Song again and again.

She was Mejiro Ardan—the second daughter of Mejiro Manor, the big sister to everyone who came after, the pride they could lean on, the one who... would become Twilight Song’s scepter and shield for anything she wanted to do.

How could she ever do anything to hurt her?

Yes. She would never do anything excessive. Never.

In any case, Ardan had never once received a response—not because she didn’t want one, but because she’d never said any of this out loud. She only gave, silently.

And in that silence, Ardan had always carried one question.

What did Ruka really feel, inside, about all of this?

She never got the chance to ask.

Race after race ended. Hugs followed. Companionship settled in.

And Ardan could see more and more—things no one else could possibly know.

Under normal circumstances, an Uma Musume who hadn’t reached her peak yet should look more and more at ease from one race to the next—especially if she kept winning by crushing margins.

But Ruka...

Ruka was getting worse.

She didn’t even need to think deeply. If you leaned in after the race and looked closely, you could feel it immediately.

Worse.

Of course, this was about her physical condition.

In short-distance races, it was fine. She didn’t have to spend as much endurance, so Ruka could keep more strength in reserve. She wouldn’t show that soft fragility beneath her strong, invincible shell.

But if the race intensity was high—if the track was fierce and locked in, demanding more stamina, more focus...

Then even if Ruka stubbornly insisted on walking to the car herself, Ardan would seize her wrist—firm, unyielding—and pull her into her arms, holding her the whole way.

The worst of it... the most fragile moment... the time she’d nearly lost consciousness the instant she came off the track—

That was Ruka’s first time facing rain.

That downpour. That day when the turf turned so muddy you could barely plant your feet. That malicious European afternoon—Ruka had pitched forward straight into Ardan’s arms, unresponsive. She didn’t wake until the next day after they got home.

Close your eyes and it all comes back.

Ardan remembered that night clearly: staying by the bed the whole time, wiping away the faint spots of red at the corner of Ruka’s mouth—

Back then, she’d been so relieved she’d discovered the secret. Because if Ruka had been alone, just one phone call from Ramonu—just one—could’ve pierced her idiot little sister’s flimsy disguise that couldn’t possibly hold.

Ardan wondered what would’ve happened if she hadn’t been there.

If Ramonu called before rest hours and nobody picked up, her big sister might have boarded a plane on the spot—crossing from evening into daylight overnight—coming to investigate Ruka’s health in person.

It couldn’t be helped.

For Ramonu, sisters and family were that important.

Thank goodness Ardan had been there then. Thank goodness she’d been there—Mejiro Ardan, the accomplice. That was why it hadn’t been exposed.

Truly... thank goodness.

So what had Ruka felt back then?

Surely it wasn’t the same as what Song felt now.

Because the girl from those years ago—the one who let herself be touched blank-faced like a doll.

Now... she smiled at Ardan’s tenderness.

It was faint, barely there. Not joy, exactly—more like comfort...?

But in a way, that made Ardan even happier.

Did it mean...

That Song liked everything Ardan did? That Ardan, as her big sister, had already claimed a place in Song’s heart?

Of course.

It was only natural.

And yet—even knowing that—Ardan was still so happy.

Mm. Fine. Whatever Song felt back then, whatever Song feels now, none of it matters.

Because her precious little sister is right here...

"All right," Ardan said, "Song is as strong as ever. Just watching you makes me lose the will to chase you, let alone fight you."

"Hehe. Well, it’s me." Gotham Song rose onto her toes. "Ardan-nee worked hard too, you know? Praise me, praise me!"

Before Ardan could even react, Gotham Song pinched her cheek.

It was only an instant—gone before Ardan could even catch her breath.

But even so, when Song turned away to go greet Ruby and the others, Ardan couldn’t stop herself.

She covered the spot that had been touched with her palm, and breathed in—deep.

How should she describe it?

Ah.

It felt like sunlight—again.

Thank goodness we’re accomplices for life.

If only this incomparable relationship—this bond that carried such heavy hope and such sweet sensation—could last forever.

Mejiro Ardan truly believed that.

...

But Gotham Song didn’t know what her big sister was thinking. She jogged over to where her team’s girls were still debriefing with each other.

Beside Vernal Equinox and Gentildonna, Daiichi Ruby stood as composed and dignified as ever.

As a girl who’d just been blown past by Gotham Song for the first time in ages, Ruby was clearly feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness. After all, she was a proud Uma Musume. Any Uma Musume—no matter who the opponent—couldn’t lose on the track without feeling hurt.

But more than hurt, Ruby felt helpless. She’d always known that once Song really "turned on," Ruby would become utterly defenseless.

Still, the reality hit harder than she expected.

Compared to Mejiro Ardan, Ruby naturally had more hunger for wins. For one thing, their relationship wasn’t family. And besides...

Daiichi Ruby was only half-retired.

She hadn’t truly left the track.

Seeing Ruby like this, Gotham Song thought of Ardan just now.

She pulled out her own handkerchief and carefully wiped Ruby’s cheek.

For Gotham Song, that pace and distance were nothing.

Ruby didn’t have that kind of leeway—she had no room to spare. As a girl better suited to shorter distances, Ruby obviously didn’t have that level of stamina. After forcing herself to hang with Gotham Song and the others through the end of the training run, she was practically on the verge of collapsing.

So she could only stand there, silent and dazed, until Gotham Song’s fingers called her mind back.

But along with those fingers came the feeling of being held.

Gotham Song didn’t hide it at all. She wrapped an arm around Ruby’s shoulders and let her lean in, lending her warmth to keep Ruby upright as exhaustion tried to drag her down.

Ruby froze for a beat, then came back to herself. She pressed close and accepted Gotham Song’s kindness, savoring the soft handkerchief as it traced her cheek—stroke by stroke.

Come to think of it, running that hard had left Ruby sweating all over, disheveled beyond anything she’d normally allow herself.

Normally, she’d hate that sticky, clinging feeling.

But Ruby didn’t have the space for that emotion now.

Or rather—her senses and her mind were completely filled with something else, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Contact. Warmth.

It was like magic.

Maybe Song’s true identity wasn’t even an Uma Musume. Maybe she was a witch with a bewitching aura. Just getting close made you lose all resistance. Just touching her made you forget you were supposed to pull away.

She wanted to rest against Song like this, peacefully. Just like this—

Under the sun. By the sea. Even at the end of the world—who cared?

Ruby thought she must be an idiot, to even think about what comes after the end of the world.

But maybe it didn’t matter.

If she was an idiot, she was an idiot.

That was only natural. Only right.

Ruby knew perfectly well why she’d become like this.

Normally, she wasn’t the type who could only focus on one thing at a time—but right now, Gotham Song’s gentleness had stolen all of it. Heart. Mind. Breath.

How could she not turn into an idiot?

---

T/N: awww

4 chaps meeting this weeks quota, i was toooo lazy and slept allllllllll week sorgee

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