The tide of victory surged at the center of the racecourse. Sunday Silence was surrounded by the frenzied crowd and flashing cameras, her name and cries of "Triple Crown" ringing out like thunder, lingering without end.
In that moment, history's spotlight shone for her. She was the undeniable legend of the day.
At the edge of the boiling grounds, however, Easy Goer quietly left that noisy stretch of dirt behind.
She walked inward along the slightly dim passage, her steps a little heavy, her breathing still faintly unsteady after the intense race. Sweat slid down her cheeks, but the light at the end of the passage reflected in her blue eyes, clear and peaceful.
At the exit of the passage, a figure was already waiting there in silence.
Secretariat leaned against the wall, her gaze gentle as she looked in the direction Easy Goer came from.
Easy Goer stopped in front of her sister, raised a hand, and scratched her cheek a little sheepishly. The smile on her lips was streaked with sweat, yet especially bright.
"I was still just a little short."
Her voice was light, with little trace of disappointment.
Secretariat looked at her, and the faint worry in her eyes finally melted away completely, turning into a soft smile.
She reached out, gently brushed aside the sweat-damp hair clinging to her sister's forehead, then shook her head. Her voice was gentle and firm.
"It's all right."
She paused, gazing into Easy Goer's eyes—so similar to her own, yet even clearer and more determined—and said each word with perfect clarity.
"Even if you came second today, you have always been the younger sister I'm most proud of."
Outside the passage, the cheers of victory still shook the air. Bits of confetti were occasionally swept in by the wind, like a distant golden rain.
And in this relatively quiet corner, a warmer current flowed silently through the smiles they shared.
...
At the same time, far across the ocean at Nishikino Academy, the principal's office was brightly lit.
On the huge computer screen, the thrilling duel at Belmont Park was being broadcast in crisp detail.
Principal Nishikino had watched the entire race almost without breathing, both hands gripping the arms of his office chair, his body leaning forward, eyes fixed on the screen without blinking.
When Sunday Silence crossed the line first by the slightest advantage of a nose, and the announcer shouted, "The winner—Sunday Silence—!!!" time seemed to freeze for one second.
The next second—
"Ooooooooh—!!!"
Principal Nishikino shot up from his chair as if launched by a spring, jumping to his feet with both arms raised as he burst into a world-shaking cheer.
His usual shrewd, steady image vanished in an instant. His whole face flushed red, and wild joy burst from his eyes.
"Holy crap! She won! She won! Did you see that?! Our Nishikino's Sunday Silence won!!!"
He paced frantically back and forth through the office, waving his arms and legs, completely unable to control his surging emotions.
"The American Triple Crown! The American Triple Crown! Nishikino Academy finally has a Triple Crown Umamusume too! And it's the unprecedented American Triple Crown!!!"
He suddenly stopped, rushed to his desk, and slapped the surface hard, as if trying to vent the joy surging through his chest.
Then, as if remembering something, he spun around, pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, and hurriedly dragged out an elaborately decorated bottle of champagne.
"Right! Champagne! We have to open champagne to celebrate!!!"
He did not bother looking for glasses, nor did he care about proper opening etiquette. He simply twisted the cork loose with brute force—
POP!!!
A crisp, ringing pop exploded through the principal's office, accompanied by a rich fruity aroma.
Golden bubbles surged out, splashing all over him and scattering across the expensive carpet and documents, but he did not care in the slightest. Instead, he raised the bottle high and shouted excitedly like a child.
"Wahoo—!!! Champagne time—!!!"
"Sunday Silence! Well done! You're the pride of Nishikino!! No! You're the pride of the entire Umamusume world! Triple Crown! Hahahahaha!!!"
He gulped down a mouthful of champagne, laughing so hard his mouth would not close, wishing he could immediately spread this joy throughout the entire academy.
Meanwhile, the huge poster of Sakuraba's face hanging on the wall watched over Principal Nishikino like a guardian deity, casting a faint, eerie gaze upon him as he went mad with joy like a man who had lost his mind after winning the lottery.
And at that moment, the scene on the computer screen was still continuing.
...
The deafening cheers lingered endlessly above Belmont Park, like ceremonial cannon fire offered to a new king.
The awards platform had already been arranged with solemn splendor. Golden decorations gleamed beneath the sun, waiting for the sole victor to ascend.
Sunday Silence stood before the platform, already changed into a clean racing outfit, her black hair stirring softly in the breeze.
Her golden eyes calmly looked toward the entrance of the passage. There, the person who would present her honor was about to appear.
A solemn anticipation, like the passing of history from one hand to another, filled the air.
Every gaze, whether from the spectators in the stands or the staff beside the track, focused on that same direction.
A heavy tradition, one representing supreme honor, was about to unfold.
At the end of the passage, a figure appeared.
The first thing that entered view was a deep-red banner, gorgeous and heavy, held steady by a pair of firm, powerful hands.
The banner slowly unfurled in the wind. Upon it, carefully embroidered in golden thread, was the name "Sunday Silence," glowing dazzlingly beneath the sunlight.
Then, the figure bearing the banner stepped fully out of the shadows.
Secretariat.
She stood tall and walked with composure. She was not wearing a racing outfit, but a simple, solemn dark formal dress, perfectly blending her dignity as a legend with the gravity of her role as the presenter.
She, the greatest and most undisputed Triple Crown winner in American Umamusume history, was now personally carrying the banner that symbolized the birth of a new king, walking toward the only successor worthy of receiving this inheritance from her hands.
The noise in the stands lowered involuntarily, turning into a silence filled with respect.
Everyone understood that what they were witnessing was not only Sunday Silence's coronation, but the passing of a scepter from one legend to another, handed over by a legend herself.
Secretariat stepped onto the awards platform with steady steps and finally stopped one pace in front of Sunday Silence.
The two stood facing each other.
One was the junior who had just defeated a powerful rival in the most intense way and been crowned the new king.
The other was the former king whose name had long since been carved into history, a symbol of the pinnacle and legend itself.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Secretariat looked at Sunday Silence with scrutiny, recognition, and a deep expectation only someone who had stood at the same height could understand.
Slowly, she held out with both hands the deep-red banner symbolizing the glory of the Triple Crown, embroidered with Sunday Silence's name.
"Sunday Silence."
Her voice was not loud, but it pierced the silent air clearly, carrying the echo of history.
"By the tradition of the American Triple Crown Umamusume, and... in the name of Tracen Academy (America)."
Her gaze met Sunday Silence's golden eyes.
"I hereby present this banner to you."
"With undeniable strength, you have conquered the three most difficult trials on this land. Your victory and your will are worthy of this honor."
"From this moment on, the name 'Triple Crown Umamusume' belongs to you."
As her words fell, she solemnly handed the banner to Sunday Silence.
Sunday Silence's gaze swept across the red banner embroidered with her own name before finally returning to Secretariat's eyes.
She did not immediately reach out. Instead, she gave a slight nod. Only then did she raise both hands and accept the heavy banner with an almost ceremonial solemnity.
The banner felt thick and weighty in her hands, as if it carried the glory and burden of every past Triple Crown winner, as well as endless expectations for the future.
The instant she held the banner firmly, the quiet racecourse erupted once more.
Applause, cheers, and whistles rose like a collapsing mountain and surging sea. Countless camera flashes lit up like an ocean of stars, recording this historic moment.
The handover between the old and new generations of Triple Crown winners was complete.
Secretariat took a step back, a faint smile appearing on her face. It was the satisfaction of witnessing a junior surpass her limits and reach the peak. She began to applaud softly.
And Sunday Silence raised the red banner representing supreme glory high above her head, letting it bathe fully in Belmont Park's brilliant sunlight and in the feverish gazes of countless spectators.
The banner snapped sharply in the wind. The golden words "Sunday Silence" shone dazzlingly upon it.
A new legend had already been forged.
And the ancient glory was now being proudly carried by a new king.
Holding high the red banner symbolizing supreme honor, Sunday Silence's gaze passed over the boiling crowd and landed precisely in a certain direction in the VIP seating.
There, Sakuraba stood shoulder to shoulder with Tony Bianca and Obey Your Master, all three wearing sincere smiles of gratification and pride.
Tony Bianca's eyes were even a little damp, and she kept nodding while murmuring something in a low voice.
Sakuraba's gaze was fixed firmly on the radiant figure atop the awards platform, the curve of his smile gentle and satisfied.
Look. That's my Sunny.
That was what he thought.
His own girlfriend now stood at the peak of this continent and had become a legend admired by all.
She had done it, in the most shocking and undeniable way.
Indescribable pride and tenderness surged up in his heart, almost filling his chest.
However, just as that satisfaction climbed to its peak, a cold chill came without warning, shooting up his spine like a slick venomous snake, making the smile on his face stiffen slightly.
Wait... no.
Warning bells began ringing wildly in his heart.
Sunny... was now a "Triple Crown winner."
Not an ordinary G1 Umamusume. Not a regional star. She was a genuine, nationally watched "Triple Crown winner" whose name was worthy of being written into history!
What did that mean?
It meant her commercial value was about to explode exponentially!
Endorsements, advertisements, image rights, commercial events...
Endless money would surge toward her like a tide, toward the training team behind her, toward... Nishikino Academy, where she belonged. In other words, toward him, the "boss."
This should have been something every investor dreamed of.
Personally raising a top-tier Umamusume with terrifying money-making ability, achieving success in both career and wealth.
But Sakuraba's face turned paler by the second.
Because he suddenly remembered his precarious grand plan to lose money.
The pile of carefully chosen money-losing projects under him. Those research and development efforts that looked promising but were actually pits. Those long-term investments that required constant spending and might not have returns...
At present, his rate of losing money was still quite good...
But now...
How terrifying was the earning speed of a Triple Crown winner?
Just imagining it roughly made Sakuraba's vision go dark.
That was probably no longer a little river. It was a tsunami!
When the time came, Nishikino Academy's accounts would be piled full of astonishing profits.
Holy crap!
That was the smell of making money!
So damn fatal!
"It's over..."
Sakuraba murmured unconsciously. The gratification and pride from earlier were instantly replaced by a massive panic that he was about to be drowned in money.
Looking at Sunday Silence, shining brilliantly on the platform as if she came with mountains of gold and silver behind her, he felt as if he were not looking at his proud girlfriend, but at a super money printer about to start up, one that could not be shut off.
Tony Bianca noticed something strange and turned her head in confusion. "Mr. Sakuraba? What's wrong? Your face suddenly looks awful. Are you too moved?"
"N-no, it's nothing..."
Sakuraba forced out a smile uglier than crying. His gaze remained fixed on the awards platform, but inside, he was already wailing.
A Triple Crown winner... Was the price of this glory the end of his carefully planned blueprint for losing money?
He could almost hear the roar of the flood of money rolling toward him, smashing apart the beautiful future of healthy losses he had imagined.
The sunlight was perfect. Golden light spilled generously over all of Belmont Park like a stage spotlight, and it also fell without reservation on Sakuraba's face.
That light was warm and dazzling, illuminating his stiff expression, yet it could not dispel the chill rapidly spreading through his heart.
He unconsciously lifted his head and looked at the sky. The sky was a clear, cloudless blue, with a few white clouds drifting leisurely by, as if adding their brilliance to this historic moment.
What a clear, beautiful day.
But Sakuraba only felt that the sunlight was especially piercing, making his vision turn white in waves. Even the warmth that had risen in his heart from pride just moments ago rapidly cooled, froze, and finally left only a bone-deep chill.
He seemed to see the future.
Not Sunny standing gloriously on more awards platforms, but the numbers representing profit on Nishikino Academy's financial statements shooting up like runaway rockets. The red deficits would be completely wiped away and drowned, replaced by increasingly long green numbers that made his heart tremble.
Those numbers would take physical form, becoming mountains of endorsement contracts, commercial invitations flying in like snowflakes, sponsors arriving one after another... They would become greedy beasts, devouring the loss-making ecosystem he had worked so hard to establish and uprooting the money-losing seedlings he had carefully cultivated.
It was over.
Completely over.
He had worked so hard to lay things out, advancing step by step, just as his great money-losing enterprise was finally getting on track...
Only for his own ace to make one dazzling Triple Crown leap and kick him straight into the abyss of profit!
What promising future?
What healthy losses?
What sustainable money-losing?
Before the super money printer called "Triple Crown winner Sunday Silence," all of it was nothing but a fragile illusion!
Sakuraba slowly lowered his head, raising a hand to shield himself from that overly brilliant sunlight, and also to cover the near-despairing grayness in his eyes.
Smiling.jpg.
The future is pitch-black, desuwa!
---
T/N: desuwa...
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