"I wasn't thinking that."
Stardust, amused, cut her off. "McQueen, are you really not bothered by that match?"
"What? Of course I'm not. What do you take Mejiro McQueen for?" McQueen rolled her eyes and flipped her still-damp hair.
"But your face says it."
Right now, McQueen's brows were furrowed, and a hint of confusion lingered in her eyes.
She clearly wasn't as indifferent as she claimed.
"Maybe not as bad as Lady Mejiro said, but are you sure it didn't weigh on you?"
"If it hadn't, Ryan wouldn't have brought me, and she wouldn't have played along with Lady Mejiro's nonsense."
Stardust spoke seriously.
Ryan didn't seem the sort to go along with pranks. If she did, then she wanted Stardust to do something for McQueen.
Call it payment for dinner…
So thought Stardust.
McQueen sprang up and retorted loudly:
"Don't guess at my heart! I'm not hung up on… on that race—it was just a short-distance. So what if I lost?!"
"My goal has never changed—the spring and autumn Tenno Sho! Mid-to-long distance! I'm not lost, and I don't need anyone to tell me what to do!"
Stardust held her gaze, steady. "If you fight back so hard, you must be aware of what's inside."
"…"
McQueen stared, anger stirring—but words failed.
She knew Stardust was right. It wasn't the loss—it was that—
Before the finish, through inexperience, she'd forfeited any chance to win.
Why?
Why did I fall into another's rhythm?
If I had stuck to myself—would the result be different?
She knew she wasn't worse than anyone. But on that basis, she lost—and lost before the end… She'd chewed on it for days.
"You're right. I'm not reconciled," McQueen murmured, voice from the bottom of a well. "I'm not reconciled to losing so easily… The Mejiro blood gave me such power, and I shamed it with my judgment."
"I'm the one who must complete the Mejiro spring Tenno Sho three-generation domination! But if I… How can Mejiro honor allow that!!"
"Always Mejiro this, Mejiro that…" Stardust watched her agitation and stayed calm. "That's not what I want to hear. McQueen—what do you think?"
"Wha—"
Her anger froze to ice. She opened her mouth—and had no words.
She hadn't thought about it. From training onward, the media and audience had crowned her, all too happy to tie her great long-distance talent to Mejiro blood and honor.
If you're the Mejiro rookie, of course you'll dominate long distance, right?
They often said things like that.
But what do I think?
Why do I run?
"For me, it's victory," Stardust said when she saw McQueen's confusion, and she spoke of herself.
"At first I thought I'd just run to earn prize money. I'm a country girl. My family's sick, so I wanted to earn fast."
"But everything changed when I stepped on the course. Tokai Teio showed me with action what running means to me—what victory is."
"…The cheers. I want to bathe in the cheers of the whole crowd. I want victory! I don't want anyone crossing the line before me!"
If anyone else heard it, they'd laugh at her arrogance.
But seeing the light in her eyes, McQueen understood; that wasn't arrogance…
One horse takes the lead; ten thousand fall silent.
It was the first aphorism President Symboli Rudolf gave her.
Stardust had grasped the meaning, and that's why she craved every win.
And because she craved it, victory answered her—letting her break herself again and again.
And me?
McQueen suddenly found she couldn't think of any other merits.
"I'm jealous of you, Stardust…"
She felt her heart wrapped in a thick shell of ice—cold and hard. "Unlike you, apart from Mejiro blood I've nothing to praise… Only long distance. Only long distance is my battlefield."
Stardust drew a deep breath and spoke slowly:
"So what?"
"Eh?"
"I asked: so what if you only excel at long distance?" Stardust volunteered her own weakness. "Everyone has something they're bad at, right? I do—cornering. No matter what, I can't get it. Condor and Bourbon are sick of pacing me."
"Racing—McQueen, do you like it?"
"…I do."
Recalling the long-distance course, drawing power from every fiber to defeat every opponent—McQueen had to admit, she loved it.
"Then keep running."
"You make it sound easy! I have to win!"
"Then win," Stardust said as if obvious.
"If you truly think you must win, then go win. Running is that simple."
"What if I lose?!" McQueen shouted.
"Ah, I figured you'd ask that," Stardust laughed, hands on hips.
She wasn't surprised—she'd asked someone else once, and what had he told her?
"You're the dummy here, McQueen. What horse girl thinks about losing before a race?"
"Dummy?! But—" McQueen gaped at being called a dummy, ready to snap back—only for Stardust to interject:
"Hah, can't convince you like this? I told you I'm bad at this… Let's change tack."
She rubbed the back of her head, then extended a right index finger and pointed at McQueen's brow:
"You're on the exchange too, right? Then how about a promise?"
"A promise?" McQueen tilted her head.
"Yep. Trainer Hotoyama's already penciled in a practice race with the French. When that comes, let's see who wins. If I win, you snap out of it—no more nonsense!"
"You're crazy! Racing the French—doesn't that mean Noble Clan?!"
"Yup," Stardust said, no fear in her eyes. "Noble Clan is very strong—and Treve… Really, every French exchange runner looks hard to beat."
"But so what? If I can stand on the course… I have a chance to win."
"So—McQueen—make this promise with me?"
Watching Stardust's finger curl into a fist, McQueen froze—then laughed:
"What is this brainless confidence… You're the dummy."
"But…" She raised her right fist to bump his, her expression firm:
"Since it's a race, I won't lose either!"
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