In the dorm room, Kousei sat on a chair, looking dazed. Just a Way, who was usually inseparable from her, wasn't there. She must have deliberately given Kousei some space to sort through her emotions.
"Rice..."
Kousei felt a heavy gloom in her chest. Faced with such a sudden turn of events, she didn't know what to do. Tachyon's injury was at least caused by Kousei's veering accident. Bourbon had simply reached her limit. And Rice Shower had just happened to win the race at the last moment.
Yet, because Bourbon's Triple Crown dream was shattered, everyone blamed Rice Shower and Kyoei Bowgun, branding them as villains and casually dismissing everything they had accomplished.
"Why won't anyone look at the truth?!"
Kousei felt as if she were in a trance. The childhood memory of Rudolf becoming the Symbol blurred, and the ideals she had once admired now seemed like a phantom moon.
Back then, everyone would offer their heartfelt blessings to the Umamusume. Why is it so different now...?
Kousei stood up and began rummaging through her suitcase. Her father had once given her three videotapes, but she had only watched the first one. She had asked him when she could watch the second, but he always told her the time wasn't right.
Gradually, she had forgotten about it. Her father must have had a reason for specifically asking Black Bullet to deliver the tapes to her at the Emotional Test Center.
Perhaps this is the moment my father was talking about.
Soon, Kousei found the videotape. With a nervous heart, she waited in front of the snowy screen. The loading time seemed unusually long. She suddenly remembered that the first tape was still with McQueen, though she didn't know that McQueen had since passed it on to Teio.
Just as her mind began to wander, the screen finally flickered to life.
But this time, it was different. The "Mother" on the screen wore an old Tracen Academy uniform, her face obscured. The first tape had been a race, and Kousei had felt an immediate connection, as if she were being pulled into the scene. This time, she couldn't sense her "Mother's" presence at all. It was as if she were merely watching a story unfold through a screen.
The image was blurry, and Kousei could only make out the vague outline of what she assumed was Tracen Academy. Standing before her "Mother" was a man who, judging by his attire, appeared to be a Trainer.
"Dad?"
The Trainer's face was also blurred, making it impossible to identify him from the screen. Kousei could only guess based on the limited information.
"This is strange. Why is it so blurry?"
If the first tape was merely blurry, the second could be described as a technical disaster. Given how much her father cherished these tapes, Kousei couldn't believe he would make such a mistake.
Could this be intentional?
The "Father" gestured with his hands, seemingly saying something to the "Mother".
"What the...? There's no sound either," Kousei muttered, leaning closer and tapping the television twice.
It had no effect. With no other choice, Kousei could only stare at the silent screen.
The "Father" stopped speaking, and the "Mother" seemed to fall into a deep silence. The conversation appeared to be heavy. Before its outcome could be revealed, the scene abruptly changed.
Now, in a confined room, the "Mother" stood in the center, surrounded by several seated figures.
"The Central Committee?"
Kousei watched as her "Mother" picked up a pen and signed some kind of agreement. Then, the scene shifted again.
"It's her!"
Kousei wouldn't have noticed if McQueen hadn't pointed her out before—the Umamusume with divine talent. The two stood facing each other. After a brief, intense gaze, the "Mother" dragged her luggage away until her figure completely vanished from the frame. The camera then returned to the other Umamusume.
A long, still shot followed, and Kousei began to think the tape had ended. Suddenly, the Umamusume on screen whipped her head around. Kousei flinched—the gaze, though just on screen, felt like an arrow piercing her chest.
Thankfully, the screen went black the next second. Kousei struggled to calm her racing heart and began to think.
Something's not right. This wasn't filmed normally. The person filming couldn't have been my father.
The camera angle was remarkably steady, which meant the person filming had a legitimate reason to be there. But if it was her father, who was the Trainer in the first scene? And it's even more impossible that he could have been at the Central Committee—someone with unrestricted access to such a place.
"Who could it be?"
Suddenly, Kousei realized: if the "Father" wasn't her father, then the "Mother" might not be her mother either. The recording could be far older than she'd imagined. It could represent history!
Now, the videotape felt scorching hot in her hands. Instead of finding answers, her questions had only multiplied.
If that wasn't my mother, then who has been calling out to me?
Kousei had rarely seen that fiery presence since the Japan Cup, so long ago that she'd almost forgotten it existed.
What does it all mean? Is it connected to what my parents are doing?
With these questions swirling in her mind, Kousei tried to play the third tape, but no matter how many times she tried, the screen remained blank.
A protective measure? To prevent the wrong person from seeing it?
Since there was nothing more she could do for now, Kousei decided to put the tapes away. The truth would reveal itself when the time was right.
Her gaze inadvertently fell on some documents left on the table. They seemed to belong to Reiko. In the sudden chaos of the Kikuka Sho incident, neither of them had remembered to take their things when they left.
Kousei hadn't intended to look; after all, they were Reiko's things. But a casual glance caught her eye, and she spotted a few key words. The documents were about custom merchandise orders—things like Umamusume dolls.
This wasn't unusual. After the Japan Cup, the Central Committee had commissioned a batch of Kousei dolls for the market. Kousei had even won one herself from a claw machine.
But the quantity of merchandise Reiko had ordered seemed enormous. Even when Kousei's records hadn't been erased, her popularity might not have been enough to sell through all this stock, let alone now.
Reiko had even drafted several related promotional plans, with Aoi listed as the primary executor. Reiko had mentioned wanting to build up hype for Kousei before; this must have been part of that effort.
It was also one of their current sources of funding. Kousei's training required vast resources: diet, horseshoes, medical support—each item demanded money. Although Reiko was descended from an elite family, they had fallen on hard times. With no sponsors, Reiko had to find ways to cover all these expenses herself.
While Kousei earned prize money from races, the amounts at the entry level were ridiculously small, nowhere near enough to support the demands of daily training.
"Merchandise... money..." Kousei murmured, lost in thought.
If it takes money to support one Umamusume's training, what about maintaining an entire academy? Since it's a competitive sport, that means there's profit to be made.
What's more profitable than merchandise?
Suddenly, it clicked for Kousei. Though it was just a guess, certain pieces began to connect. In competitive sports, what's most profitable? The outcome of the races themselves, of course.
But what does that have to do with me? There are countless Umamusume just like me. What value do I even have?
Kousei's gaze drifted back to the video recording, and a bold idea began to form in her mind.
Maybe... my value isn't in who I am?