Black Caviar clapped.
The sound was swallowed whole by the deafening applaud of the stadium, by the waves of cheers that continued to crash and swell like a living thing. She didn't look away as her eyes stayed fixed on the track—on the golden figure standing at its center, arm raised high, crown secured beyond dispute.
So Japan welcomes yet another monster to its turf, she thought quietly.
That final kick… it was immaculate.
For that brief, terrifying stretch, nothing else had been allowed to exist in the same space as Orfevre. Rivals, pace, will, even the race itself had all been rendered meaningless beneath that absolute acceleration.
Black Caviar felt a familiar, distant thrill stir in her chest.
For generations, this country in the east has carried that weight.
A weight that crossed oceans and eras—to France, to the long autumn afternoons beneath gray skies over Longchamp. To the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe. To the sea of faces she had once seen there, hopeful, breathless, clinging to belief with desperation.
Deep Impact.
She remembered it vividly.
The commentators' voices had risen with expectation as the favorite surged forward, her stride beautiful, dominating, history almost within reach.
"Deep Impact making her move—here she comes!"
For a moment, it had felt possible.
Then the camera angle shifted. A chestnut blur on the outside—Rail Link—lengthening, answering, refusing to yield.
"Rail Link strikes the front! Rail Link is pulling away!"
The realization had crept in slowly, cruelly.
Deep Impact still drove on, still fought, but the gap wouldn't close. Another challenger—Pride—held firm as well.
"And it's Rail Link! Rail Link takes the Arc!"
The roar had been thunderous—but fractured, uneven. Celebration for one side of the grandstand. Silence for the other.
"Deep Impact finishes third."
Third.
She remembered how the words had landed heavy. How the cameras had focused not on the winner, but on the fallen favorite. On bowed heads. On hands covering mouths. On dreams folding inward, quietly, painfully, without ever quite dying.
That curse…
Black Caviar's gaze softened as it returned to the present, to gold blazing beneath the Japanese sky.
Perhaps it can finally be broken.
"With Orfevre," she murmured under her breath.
"—My kid really is special, isn't she?"
The voice cut in casually.
Black Caviar blinked once—and snapped back to the present.
Standing beside her was a familiar figure, hands tucked loosely into her pockets, posture relaxed to the point of irreverence. Short and petite, almost unassuming, she looked more like a wandering drifter than the parent of a Triple Crown winner. Deep brown hair faded into ochre at the tips, framing a sharp, mischievous face marked by a small diamond-shaped marking. Rosewood eyes—flecked with gold when the light caught them just right—watched the track with detached calm.
A sandy yellow coat hung loosely from her shoulders, as if she might shrug it off and disappear at any moment.
Stay Gold.
"Sometimes," she continued, lips tugging into a crooked smile, "I wonder if she's really mine. The only thing she seems to have inherited from me is my temper."
Black Caviar studied her for a moment—then huffed softly, a breath of quiet amusement escaping her.
"I wouldn't say that," she replied, tone dry but unmistakably warm. "From what I see, she inherited your relentlessness too."
Her gaze flicked back to the track, to Orfevre standing tall amid the chaos, unbowed by the noise, untouched by the weight of history she had just shouldered aside.
"That final kick of hers," Black Caviar added, voice lowering, "it reminded me of your last race."
For a fraction of a second, Stay Gold's expression stilled.
Then her smirk deepened, pride glinting sharp and unspoken behind her eyes.
"…Heh." Stay Gold scoffed softly, the sound light and amused, before stepping fully up beside Black Caviar. She stretched her arms overhead with a lazy groan, joints popping as if she'd just woken from a nap rather than watched history be made by her own daughter.
"Well, well," she said, glancing around at the gathered group. "Looks like I showed up just in time. Quite the show, huh?"
A few of the adults reacted first.
Autumn Sun's lips curved into a gentle smile. "It's been a while, Stay Gold. It's good to see you again."
"Mm," Stay Gold replied easily. "Guess it has, you really look young as ever Autumn Sun."
I Am Invincible tilted her head, curious. "You weren't in the country last I heard. Where'd you come from this time?"
"Thailand," Stay Gold answered without hesitation. "Got in yesterday. Figured I'd cut my trip short—since something important was happening."
A few knowing looks passed between the adults.
The children, meanwhile, stared without restraint. Leaning forward in curiosity, interest rising to the stranger who'd appeared out of nowhere and spoken so casually with their parents. Stay Gold noticed immediately—and grinned.
"Nice ta meet ya, kiddos," she said, lifting a hand in a lazy wave. "Don't look so scared—I don't bite. Much."
That did absolutely nothing to reassure them.
She drifted past the group, eyes half-lidded, gaze wandering—until it stopped.
Lunar.
Stay Gold slowed, then tilted her head, studying the girl openly. Not with suspicion, but with sharp, idle interest, as if something about Lunar had snagged her attention without quite revealing why.
"…Eh?" she murmured.
She leaned back toward Black Caviar, dropping her voice into a stage whisper that somehow carried perfectly.
"Haven't seen this one before, Nelly. What, did you get yourself another wife I don't know about?" A grin split her face. "You're such a playgirl~"
Smack.
Black Caviar's palm met her mouth with a sharp, practiced thud.
"Stop talking," she said flatly.
But before she could explain anything—
Thwack.
Stay Gold's head snapped forward as something struck the back of her skull with surgical precision.
"Don't say that like you're any better, fool."
The voice was sharp, clipped, and commanding.
Stay Gold froze mid-sway.
Namawa flinched on instinct, rubbing the back of her own head. "Oof… that looked like it hurt…"
The woman who'd delivered the blow stood tall behind Stay Gold, arm still raised. Long white hair spilled straight down her back, framing a sharp, disciplined face locked in a permanent scowl. Her build was tall and toned, every line of her presence radiating authority even at rest.
She looked… very familiar.
Anonym squinted, then pointed. "…Hey. She looks like the big sister that got hit in the back of the head by Miss Air Groove yesterday for sleeping in class."
The woman froze.
Completely.
It was as if someone had turned her into stone.
A heavy, soul-deep disappointment haze settled over her entire body—shoulders stiffening, head lowering just a fraction, her aura collapsing inward with visible despair.
One by one, the children noticed.
"W-why did she suddenly stop moving…?" Saiya whispered.
"…Maybe it's a sickness that turns people into statues," Persian murmured solemnly.
The adults exchanged glances.
Written Tycoon coughed into her hands. More Than Ready turned away, shoulders shaking faintly. Autumn Sun and I am Invincible let out quiet, helpless laughs while gently steering the children back with hands on their shoulders.
"Alright, alright," I Am Invincible muttered. "Let's not say things that'll get us all in trouble…"
Black Caviar cleared her throat and stepped forward, desperate to break the tension.
"Um—please don't take it to heart, Point Flag," she said carefully. "The children were just talking about what they saw. That's all."
Point Flag didn't respond.
Then—slowly—her arm tightened. Arms that are still locked securely around Stay Gold's neck.
"I have no excuse," Point Flag said stiffly. "I failed as a mother."
Stay Gold wheezed. "P—Point… Flag…? I—am, still—breathe—"
"I will be properly disciplining Gold Ship when we return," Point Flag continued, utterly unmoved.
"…W—wait—can you let me go first—"
Her grip adjusted.
Then, without another word, Point Flag turned and began dragging Stay Gold away, the latter's feet barely skimming the ground.
"Everyone is waiting for you, dumbass," Point Flag snapped. "So let's go and be an actual parent for once—and be there to celebrate your daughter's achievement."
Stay Gold's face steadily turned red as she struggled to nod.
"M—mmph… y—yes ma'am…"
And just like that, the two of them disappeared into the crowd—one rigid with fury, the other being hauled like excess luggage.
More Than Ready pressed a fist to her mouth, shoulders still shaking. "Pff—" She turned away slightly, clearly losing a battle she had no intention of winning. "Okay, seriously—what was that whole spectacle just now?"
Anonym and Lunar turned to each other at the exact same moment.
Their expressions were identical: blank, stunned, and profoundly confused.
"…Did we," Lunar began slowly, choosing each word with care, "just witness someone getting abducted?"
Anonym blinked once. "…I think we did."
Persian, ever practical even in the face of absurdity, raised her hand. "So… who was that?"
Black Caviar answered without hesitation. "That was my… friend. Stay Gold." She paused, then added. "Orfevre's mother."
Invincible Caviar frowned, arms folding as she replayed the image in her head—the short, messy figure being hauled off by the collar, compared against the towering, regal presence still dominating the track. "Hold on," she said at last. She gestured vaguely in the direction Stay Gold had disappeared, then back toward Orfevre. "You're telling me that—" another vague gesture, "—that person is related to her?"
Saiya nodded along, struggling to put it into words. "Um… it's not like she seemed bad or anything. It's just…" She waved her hands helplessly. "Orfevre is… Orfevre."
Black Caviar nodded once. "…Yes. I understand exactly what you mean."
Invincible Caviar stared. "…So how?"
Black Caviar let out a small sigh. "Orfevre fully took after her mother in appearance," she said. "Oriental Art." She glanced back toward the track, where Orfevre still stood bathed in cheers. "Tall, composed, elegant. Very much unlike Stay Gold. Her personality however..."
Lunar hesitated, then lifted her hand slightly. "Uh… Auntie Nel?"
"Oh, yes Lunar?"
"The woman who just left—you called her Point Flag, right?" Lunar paused, brows knitting. "Not Oriental Art."
"That's right," Black Caviar replied, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
Lunar's confusion deepened. Slowly, carefully, she asked, "Does that mean… Stay Gold also has multiple wives and children? Like you do?"
Black Caviar nodded. "Yes."
She gestured in the direction Point Flag had dragged Stay Gold off to. "That was Point Flag. She's the mother of Gold Ship."
"…Gold Ship?" Namawa echoed.
Black Caviar continued calmly, as if she weren't about to detonate several young minds. "Yes, the girl that you saw Air Groove punish in class.."
Every single child tilted their head at the exact same angle.
A half-second passed.
"HUHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!"
The unified shout burst out loud enough to earn several startled glances from nearby spectators.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT—THAT person?!" Namawa yelled.
"The goofy one with the sunglasses?" Persian added incredulously.
"The one who got her head smacked by Miss Air Groove?!" Saiya piled on.
Lunar didn't speak.
Her gaze drifted back to the track, where Orfevre stood tall beneath the roaring crowd—golden, unyielding, every inch a tyrant carved from legends.
Then, another image surfaced in her mind: Gold Ship's silly sunglasses-framed face, her loose posture, her chaotic replies to Miss Air Groove.
…It's like night and day.
She swallowed, still trying—and failing—to reconcile the two.
Family really is strange.
Black Caviar clapped her hands together once, cutting through the chaos.
"Alright," she said, exhaling with a small smile. "Never mind all that." Her gaze swept over the children. "Tell me—what did you think of the race?"
"Okay! I'm gonna be honest!" Namawa declared, throwing both arms up first. "At first it was kinda boring! Like—nothing was happening! Everyone was just running and staring at each other and I was like, when are they gonna go already?!"
Invincible Caviar shot her a look. "Oi."
"But!" Namawa rushed on, undeterred, eyes sparkling. "The end was AMAZING! When big sis Orfevre just—whoosh!—took off like that?! My heart was pounding! I swear I forgot how to breathe!"
Black Caviar laughed softly, shaking her head. "Straight to the point, as always," she said, fondness clear in her voice.
Persian shakes her head at Namawa's answer before giving hers, arms folded as she considers the question more carefully. "I liked it," she said. "A lot, actually. It wasn't just about speed, it was like a battlefield but using the brains. Everyone was just waiting for a mistake."
She paused, eyes narrowing slightly as the memory replayed. "That kind of tension… where one wrong move decides everything. I find that fascinating."
Written Tycoon placed a hand on her head and patted once, firm and approving. "Good thinking," she said. "You were definitely paying attention."
Invincible Caviar spoke next, fists clenched at her sides. "I learned a lot," she admitted. "More than I expected. Watching how they think… how one move from Orfevre changed everything…" She drew in a sharp breath. "It makes me want to train. Like—right now."
Anonym raised her hand—not sharply, but just enough to be noticed. "I thought big sister Orfevre was really cool," she said, voice calm as usual, though her eyes betrayed her, showing excitement. "She looked so confident while dominating everyone. I wanna be like her someday."
A single bead of sweat slid down Black Caviar's temple.
…How she raced, right? Not how she acts, she thought, forcing her smile to stay in place.
Beside Anonym, Autumn Sun placed a steady hand on her shoulder, her own expression tinged with quiet concern.
Saiya, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly leaned forward, silver eyes gleaming with excitement. "That last kick!" she said, practically vibrating. "Everyone was watching each other so closely, holding back, trying not to make the first mistake. And then Win Variation—she almost broke free, didn't she? For a second it felt like the race could've gone anywhere."
Her breath hitched, awe clear in her voice. "All of them were pushing against each other, testing their limits… and then big sis Orfevre just took it all and decided the ending herself. I want to run like that with everyone too!"
Black Caviar turned to her, surprise softening into something warmer. She reached out and gently patted Saiya's head.
"You will, I'll make sure you can." she said quietly.
With Saiya out of the way, her gaze began to drift toward Lunar—
—but before she could ask the girl, the noise of the stadium shifted. The cheers softened, reorganized, settling into anticipation as the announcer's voice rang out cleanly over the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for your enthusiasm! Preparations for the Winner's Stage will now begin! We ask all spectators to remain seated and enjoy the performance!"
Namawa blinked. "…Winner's stage?" She tilted her head, then looked around, curiosity sparking. "What's that? Like—do they put a crown on her or something?"
Lunar glanced at her, lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile. "Well… sort of…?"
-
"WOAHHHHHHHHHH!!"
Namawa exploded into motion, hopping in place as she yanked out her lightsticks like she'd been waiting her entire life for this exact moment. "THEY'RE GONNA SING!! AND DANCE!! LOOK—LOOK!!"
Spotlights snapped on in brilliant succession, washing the newly raised stage in blinding color. Orfevre, Win Variation, and Tosen Ra stepped forward—not in racing silks, but in gleaming stage outfits that felt just as commanding in their own way. Gold caught the light and burned bright, crimson flared like fire, and deep green shimmered with quiet strength as the opening notes of Legend Changer rang out—sharp, triumphant, and unmistakably victorious.
The stadium erupted all over again.
Namawa screamed herself hoarse, lightsticks whipping wildly through the air. "BIG SIS ORFEVRE—WOOO!! GO! GO! GO!"
Anonym, by contrast, stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the stage. "…Why are they dancing?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "Didn't they just run three thousand meters?"
Written Tycoon answered calmly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "This is part of Uma Musume culture in Japan. The Winner's Live is a celebration—not just of victory, but of effort, of endurance, and of the bond between the runners and the audience." She paused, eyes softening slightly. "It's one of the things that makes Japan's racing scene unique."
Her gaze slid sideways.
More Than Ready and I Am Invincible were already fully immersed—cheering loudly, lightsticks snapping in precise, practiced motions, their timing so perfect it was obvious they'd done this countless times before.
Beside them, Invincible Caviar waved her own lightstick a bit stiffly, shoulders tense, cheeks faintly pink as she tried her best to keep up without drawing attention to herself.
Black Caviar let out a quiet chuckle, relaxed and amused, as she waved her lightsticks alongside Autumn Sun, who followed the choreography with gentle accuracy, movements composed and almost soothing.
Lunar watched the stage.
Orfevre moved with absolute certainty, her presence dominating even here—every step sharp, every motion confident. Win Variation danced beside her with fierce pride, chin lifted, eyes blazing with determination, refusing to fade into anyone's shadow while Tosen Ra matched them with steady composure, her movements restrained but resolute, a quiet strength anchoring the trio.
Then Lunar looked down at the lightstick in her own hand.
"…Yeah," she thought quietly, watching it glow. "I still don't really get it."
She remembered her mother—how she used to watch recordings of Winner's Lives, eyes bright, smile soft, as if there was something deeply comforting in them. Lunar had never quite felt that same pull. She understood the sacredness of victory and celebrating the efforts.
But this…?
Before she could ponder any further, her gaze went elsewhere.
Saiya stood beside her, completely frozen. Silver eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Body stiff amid the chaos of sound, light, and motion.
"…Saichan?" Lunar called, raising her voice just a little.
No response.
"Saichan?"
Still nothing.
Lunar leaned closer. Then closer. Until she finally reached out and gently grabbed Saiya's shoulder.
Saiya jolted immediately. "H–Huh?!"
Lunar laughed softly, relieved. "You spaced out."
Saiya blinked rapidly, then slowly turned back toward the stage, cheeks faintly flushed. "S-sorry, its just…I've never seen anything like this before," she murmured.
Lunar hesitated, then leaned a little closer so her voice wouldn't be swallowed by the music.
"…Do you like it?"
Saiya turned toward her immediately, as if the question itself delighted her. She nodded—once, then again, more firmly—silver eyes shining.
"I really do," she said. "A lot."
Lunar watched that shimmer, the way Saiya's eyes seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it, and before she realized it, the words slipped out.
"Is that… because of your eyes?"
Saiya blinked—then broke into a bright smile that made Lunar's chest feel strangely tight.
"Yeah!" she said, pleased. "You remembered!"
Lunar looked away quickly, ears warming. "You said you can see things more clearly than others, like you can see um, emotions..?" she murmured.
"Mhm." Saiya nodded, then turned her eyes back to the stage, to the dancers, the crowd, the ocean of lightsticks swaying in time. Her voice softened, growing thoughtful. "And right now," she continued, "I'm seeing joy."
Lunar followed her gaze.
Saiya spoke slowly, carefully, like she was choosing each word from something deep inside her. "The joy of many people here." She smiled again, smaller this time, but warmer. "Everyone's connected to the same stage."
Joy.
The word echoed in Lunar's mind—and with it, another voice, gentle and familiar.
But remember, little moon, Racing is something to be enjoyed.
"…Saichan," she asked. eyes still fixed on the glowing stage, "what does… joy look like?"
Saiya didn't answer right away.
She tilted her head, brows knitting as she thought, really thought, while the music swelled and the crowd roared around them.
"I think," she said at last, "joy takes a lot of forms. Different for everyone." She lifted a hand slightly, as if shaping something in the air. "Different colors. Different shapes. Different feelings."
Then she glanced at Lunar again, eyes gentle.
"But when a lot of joy gathers together—when it overlaps and resonates—" her fingers slowly curled inward, "—it always ends up the same way."
Lunar held her breath.
"It becomes a wall of light," Saiya finished softly. "Like right now."
Lunar was quiet for a long moment, but then she turned her head.
"…What about yours?" Lunar asked quietly. "Your joy. What does it look like?"
Saiya hesitated. It was only for a moment, but Lunar caught it—the slight pause. Then she smiled. Bright and sincere, with a touch of shyness that softened her silver gaze.
"It's the moon," she said.
Lunar blinked. "Huh?" She tilted her head, pale hair shifting with the motion. "Like, the actual moon?"
"Uhm, not exactly…."
Lunar frowned faintly, clearly trying to follow. "I don't get it..?"
Saiya chuckled under her breath. "It's a different kind of moon."
That only made Lunar more confused. "…There's another moon?" she wondered, eyes drifting upward for half a second as if she might spot it hanging above the stadium roof.
Saiya watched her for a moment, then sighed softly. "Never mind. It's nothing."
Lunar turned back to her, expression thoughtful rather than dismissive. "Then what about me?" she asked. "My joy. What does it look like right now?"
"…You're not emitting any joy right now."
Lunar froze. "What?" She stared at Saiya, startled. "That's not true. I am happy. Everyone's cheering, the race was amazing, you're here—everyone is here. I'm definitely feeling something."
Saiya shook her head gently. "That's not joy, that's happiness," she continued. "They're not the same."
Lunar opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly lost.
Saiya continued, her voice calm and patient. "Happiness is external. It comes from things happening around you—winning, cheering, being together. It's nice, but it's fleeting. It comes and goes with what you experience."
She placed a hand lightly against her own chest.
"Joy is internal. It's something you build inside yourself. Even when you're sad, angry, or lost… joy doesn't disappear. It stays. It can get quiet, maybe—but it's always there."
Lunar listened in silence, eyes fixed on Saiya as every word was sinking deeper than she expected.
"…If that's the case," Lunar said slowly, "then why can't you see my joy?"
Saiya waited a few moments, considering her words. "Because joy resonates with purpose," she said at last. "With what someone stands for and what they move toward, even if they don't realize it yet."
Her gaze softened.
"The only time I've ever felt joy coming from you," Saiya said quietly, "was when you ran."