Only One Year Left—I'll Become a Legendary Uma Musume!-Chapter 285: Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! 2 [229] [100 STONES]

Chapter 285: Only One Year Left—I’ll Become a Legendary Uma Musume! 2 [229] [100 STONES]

Ancient sunlight washed over American soil once again. Fighter let out a huge yawn, then hauled herself out of bed. One look at the chaos around her, and she could only heave a long, resigned sigh.

How had things ended up like this?

She pressed a hand to her forehead, digging through yesterday’s memories.

Come to think of it... it had been quite a while since these old fossils—dead enough to be dust—started gathering like this.

She remembered the very beginning, back when they still weren’t that close.

Contrary to what a lot of people imagined, the Afterlife was a wonderful place.

At least compared to the world of the living, it didn’t really lack anything. Anything you could want was there—electronics, all kinds of weird food... you could even watch livestreams of races from the human world.

Of course, keeping tabs on the living wasn’t exactly the main obsession for most Umamusume at the Afterlife.

There, the mainstream had one—and only one—answer.

Running.

Running like your life depended on it.

After death, they were finally free of the body’s limits. They had all the time and energy in the world—and bodies that couldn’t be injured—to let loose. It was like their shackles had been blown clean off.

Fighter had even seen girls who’d retired in life due to physical issues arrive here and turn into tireless machines—running twenty-four hours a day with zero intent to rest.

Umamusume really were something else, weren’t they?

That was what Fighter thought. And honestly, after she arrived at the Afterlife, she hadn’t had the slightest desire to retire either. She kept running too. Not as insanely, feverishly as the ones who looked like they were trying to "pay back" everything they’d missed in life—but still far beyond most of the girls who spent plenty of time just playing around.

But besides running, Fighter also paid attention to the world of the living. She watched the supernovas that appeared after her death. She watched the moments where Umamusume history got rewritten.

For example—

Twilight Song’s journey.

What made Fighter laugh—and sigh—was that the Umamusume she’d been following so closely didn’t even make her wait long before showing up beside her, becoming the Afterlife’s newest member.

Fighter was amused, helpless... and a little sad.

Why did someone so young have to die on the track like that? Where was the Three Goddesses’ "accident insurance"?

Then she learned the truth from Twilight Song’s own mouth.

She hadn’t died in an "accident" on the track.

She’d simply died on the track.

To be honest, Fighter had been stunned. She didn’t know what to say. In the end, the old Umamusume could only take the little dead girl around the Afterlife, and they ended up living together in a way that... just happened.

And among the Umamusume around Fighter, everyone had one shared habit:

Keeping an eye on the world of the living.

So who were the Umamusume at Fighter’s side back then?

Brigadier Gerard, Sea-Bird, Eclipse... and Twilight Song.

Yes—those were the girls who would later take part in the Dream Cup, briefly escaping death at the Afterlife.

That was where it began: their ties, their bond.

More precisely...

That was where the relationship between those old bastards and Twilight Song, the little bastard, began.

How long had it been since then? How much had happened?

After that, they’d gotten closer and closer—close enough to give Fighter a headache like this.

She looked at the Umamusume tangled around the coffee table in a drunken mess, and all she could do was bend down and haul them up one by one, carrying them back to their rooms.

One day I’m going to teach these drunkards a lesson... ahem. Well, I drank a lot too. I just woke up earlier, that’s all.

Fighter instantly lost the nerve to scold anyone. With another helpless sigh, she tiptoed out of her room and onto the balcony.

Generally speaking, Umamusume avoided alcohol and other stimulating drinks.

But that was "generally speaking."

For Afterlife Umamusume, forget binge drinking—swim in a pool of liquor and nothing "unnecessary" would happen. They didn’t have physical bodies anymore. They couldn’t be trapped by alcohol. What was there to worry about?

At worst, they’d get a hangover out of sheer habit—the grooves of life carved into the soul. It wasn’t exactly intolerable.

So the alcohol content at the Afterlife was, bizarrely, pretty high. The Three Goddesses even issued a directive...

Don’t drink by the River of the Dead. If you fall in, you’ll cause alcohol contamination!

In short, for Afterlife Umamusume—and for Fighter now—drinking wasn’t some forbidden thing.

They had all the time in the world, didn’t they?

Fighter let the cool balcony breeze wash over her, staring up at the blazing sun. In truth, they’d been back in this world for almost a year now. From lonely wandering ghosts at the start, they’d turned into a bunch of apartment-dwelling city girls who messed around every day.

Kids these days really knew how to enjoy new things. It wasn’t unfun... but the updates came fast, that much was true.

Fighter didn’t know how long she stood there blankly. It wasn’t until she heard footsteps behind her that she finally came back to herself and looked over at the figure approaching.

As expected—

It was Twilight Song.

Among all of them, if anyone had maintained her habits the best, it was absolutely Twilight Song.

That kid was driven by something—no, not "something." It was obsession. A huge one. She polished herself with desperate, relentless effort.

Fighter had always been curious what kept Twilight Song pushing this hard, but with a lifetime of experience behind her, she never asked. When the time came—if Twilight Song wanted to say it—she’d tell them. Right?

And in this moment, Fighter had a strong premonition.

It felt like she was finally about to learn the reason she’d been wondering about for so long.

"Little Ruka," Fighter said, "yeah, I was spacing out. Habit, I guess. Sometimes I just... don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing anymore."

"But you look like you’re only about as old as my big sister," Twilight Song said.

This kid...

Fighter lifted a hand and vigorously ruffled Twilight Song’s long silver hair before replying, gruff and muffled.

"That’s only how it looks. A long time can leave you medals... and it can leave you scars, too."

Twilight Song didn’t take the bait. She simply leaned into Fighter and drew a deep breath.

"Fighter-nee... you’ve always been curious, haven’t you? Why I work so hard—why I keep training, why I keep trying to improve my condition?"

"Please listen. It’s strange, but... now that it’s almost here—now that I might finally get the chance—I’m actually nervous."

Nervous?

You silly kid. Of course you’re nervous. You’ll absolutely be nervous. If anything... you’re that kind of delicate person, aren’t you?

Fighter had always found it adorable—Twilight Song was the sort who couldn’t easily see herself. She never quite pinned down her own emotions clearly. At the very least, she kept thinking she ought to be cold and unfeeling, not someone who could respond—someone with a rich inner world of her own.

But in reality, Twilight Song was more sensitive than anyone, more resilient than anyone, and more alive inside than anyone.

An idiot who still couldn’t see herself, even now.

So what could make this idiot beside her so nervous?

There was only one answer.

Fighter didn’t say it outright. She just nodded, gentle as she could manage.

"Then satisfy my curiosity, little Ruka."

"Mm... then I’ll ask. Actually, Fighter-senpai... do you understand what it feels like, when you aren’t yourself anymore?"

Not herself...?

"I mean... you still have all your memories. Everything you knew when you were alive. But after you die, you suddenly realize... there’s a completely different ’you’ walking around out there. How do I describe it?"

"It’s like... I’m the part that got peeled away. And the part that’s more emotional, more like ’Twilight Song’..."

...Threw me away.

She didn’t say those last words out loud, but Fighter understood them anyway. This was where age and experience mattered; in that instant, all the scattered details clicked into place, and Fighter finally grasped the shape of Twilight Song’s doubt.

"You’re saying... you’re wondering whether you’re really Twilight Song. Right?"

Twilight Song didn’t answer. But the tiniest shift in her expression was enough—Fighter could see exactly what the kid beside her was thinking.

Yeah. Kid.

Come to think of it, compared to Miss Gotham Song, she did look a little too young, didn’t she? Well. It didn’t matter.

"What does it matter, little Ruka? Whether you are or not... you don’t need that answer to keep living."

"In the end, there’s only one Twilight Song in this world. Isn’t there?"

"Only one...? But...!"

"There’s no ’but,’ little Ruka."

Fighter pinched Twilight Song’s cheeks and tugged lightly, her lips curling into an indulgent smile.

"I can’t and won’t swear you’re Twilight Song. But hasn’t that other girl already taken a different name? Maybe she doesn’t care that much about the glory that came with being ’Twilight Song.’"

"And even if she doesn’t—so what? Here at the Afterlife, I—we—only know one little Ruka, don’t we?"

Twilight Song fell silent. Clearly, she still cared. So Fighter delivered the last line, the way you’d cinch a knot tight.

"Nerves are good. Or rather—of course it’s good that you’re nervous about this."

"If you have doubts, then ask. Before the race."

"Go ask the one you believe truly holds that name. Ask what you couldn’t say last time."

Fighter felt frustrated—deeply so—that she couldn’t solve this herself. Because there was only one Umamusume who could give the answer.

And what would that answer be?

They’d only had a short time to talk, but Fighter believed it completely.

When the Dream Cup was about to be held—when two songs gathered in the wind and finally faced each other...

Two Umamusume would be reborn, completely, from the glory of the past.

Twilight Song’s eyes were full of confusion. She was still nervous, but trusting Fighter, she finally nodded.

If Fighter-nee said so, then there wouldn’t be any problem.

Even if she didn’t know whether calling herself that was appropriate...

Ruka—right now, you only have this way to address yourself, don’t you?

Calm down. Calm down. The race is coming.

Before the race...

...Work up your courage.

Twilight Song—or rather, "Twilight Song"—told herself that, and forced her gaze back into its usual chill and hard resolve.

Though to Fighter, that look was, as always, nothing but soft and adorable.

But it didn’t matter. Kids like Ruka should be cute. They should be carefree—or, at the very least, if they were searching for an answer, then they should go seek it—

By launching a glorious duel.

By proving, through an exhilarating run, the glory that belonged to her alone—

The glory belonging only to "Twilight Song."

"I-I’ll do my best, Fighter-nee... saying it out loud really does make me feel better. Hah."

"It really does feel better... That’s something neither she nor I managed back then, isn’t it?"

Actively telling someone the words you’ve been keeping crushed inside your own heart?

In that instant, Twilight Song’s eyes brightened—just a little, a small and unremarkable breakthrough.

But didn’t it mean something?

Did it mean that she—right now—had grown, even a little, compared to the complete her from when she was alive?

If so, then that was wonderful.

So wonderful she almost couldn’t help but smile...

No. Calm down. Calm down! Calm down, Twilight Song—smiling that openly is pointless, right? Yes. Pointless.

She fought with everything she had to steady herself.

And when she looked up again, Fighter had vanished from her view.

She scanned the room, searching—and then she saw a black-haired figure standing by the door, already dressed and ready.

"All right, little Ruka. If you’ve decided on a fate-bound showdown, then I won’t let you embarrass yourself. Got it?"

"Ah. I know, Fighter-nee. Let’s go train?"

Training. Running. Being with everyone—

If so many people were helping her, looking forward to her, staying beside her...

...Then even if that other Twilight Song was more perfect, even so—

Right now, she still absolutely—absolutely—

Had the strength and the right to face her head-on.

Yes.

It had to be.

At Fighter’s side, Twilight Song made her decision.

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