The empty living room echoed with the commentator's fervent voice. A few beams of sunlight filtered through the window screen, dancing gently before King Halo's eyes—as if stirred by that very energy.
King Halo clutched a notebook, its cover already crumpled under her grip. She let the sunlight glare into her vision, until she could no longer tell whether what shimmered before her was the light itself or the figure blazing across the screen.
"So fast…"
She hadn't gone to the race in person—something came up last minute, she told herself. Now, sitting in front of the television, King Halo muttered under her breath.
There on the screen, that figure in red surged forward, overtaking the rest with absolute dominance.
This wasn't a debut race. This was a proper G3 event. Dream Weaver's opponents weren't greenhorns like herself anymore.
They were either rising talents from local circuits or seasoned racers polished by Tracen Academy's own training grounds. A G3 race, maybe—but the competitors? Their skills weren't necessarily just G3 level.
And yet, Dream Weaver—a Uma Musume who'd only just cleared her debut—was leaving every one of them behind.
While King Halo stared blankly at the TV, the figure on screen had already crossed the finish line.
"Winning by six lengths—the champion of this race is—!"
"Number seven, Dream Weav—"
Before the commentator could even finish, King Halo clicked off the television with the remote.
Only in the sudden silence did she realize what she'd done.
She had cut off her own sister's name.
The pale TV screen emitted a grating static whine—like an echo of Dream Weaver's name, now accusing her—
Why are you running away?
King Halo stared at the faint specks of light still flickering on the dark display. All strength seemed to leave her body. She didn't even have the energy to raise the remote and silence that accusing noise. She simply collapsed onto the sofa.
She knew that "something came up" was just an excuse—a reason not to be there. Lending a notebook from home to a friend could've been done any day. But she'd chosen today.
The day Dream Weaver ran her first official race.
This should've been a day to celebrate. She should've been there in the stands with her friends, cheering for Dream Weaver just like during her debut.
But she ran.
She hid in an empty house.
King Halo curled into herself, gaze vacant, her thoughts drifting to the past.
For someone as proud as King Halo, being the daughter of the first-class Uma Musume Dancing Brave—carrying everyone's expectations to become the next great racer—was a duty she had to fulfill.
And the weight of that duty only grew heavier with every training session she shared with Dream Weaver.
She won too often. So often that she began to harbor unrealistic expectations of herself.
Before her debut, King Halo had piled burden upon burden onto her own shoulders: she had to become a first-class Uma Musume, she had to be a guiding light for Dream Weaver. It was with those expectations that she stepped onto the stage.
But reality didn't give King Halo glory.
It gave her blow after blow.
The past year's races had made it brutally clear—with cold, hard rankings—that she didn't have what it takes to be first-class.
Just look at the geniuses from her same generation.
There was Silence Suzuka, with her dominating front-running style and six straight wins. There was Special Week, who claimed the Japan Derby—the peak of their generation. And then there was Grass Wonder, who seized two of the three crowns.
Among these mares of her era, what had King Halo—who called herself first-class—actually achieved in the past year?
Nothing.
She knew people at Tracen Academy had started calling them the "Golden Generation." Her name was sometimes included. But King Halo truly didn't understand—what right did a racer who hadn't even won a G1 have to stand among them?
Maybe one day King Halo would break through the shadows and claim glory of her own. Maybe all this unresolved frustration would one day become the fuel that propelled her to the winner's stage.
But then Dream Weaver made her debut.
With unstoppable momentum, with a name that promised to redeem King Halo's shame, she blazed across the turf like crimson lightning—so dazzling she dimmed every other Uma Musume around her.
Maybe she was the one truly worthy of being called first-class.
Maybe she was the one truly fit to inherit their mother's legacy.
At that thought, a wave of panic rose in King Halo's heart.
Why had someone as brilliant as Dream Weaver never once beaten her in training? Was she holding back—out of pity for a mediocre older sister?
Why had Dancing Brave so often urged King Halo to quit running? Why had she so bluntly pointed out King Halo's lack of talent, yet never said anything like that to Dream Weaver? Didn't that mean their mother saw something in Dream Weaver—something worthy?
A sudden chill ran through King Halo. It was the heart of spring; sunlight spilled across her face. Yet she felt no warmth at all.
And this was only a debut race. Only a G3. What if Dream Weaver went on to win a G2? What if she claimed a G1 title?
What if—what if she achieved the legendary Triple Crown? If she followed in their mother's footsteps onto the world stage, becoming a truly world-class Uma Musume?
When that day came… what would King Halo—who hadn't won a single G1—even be?
Would she still have the right to call herself first-class? When she couldn't even touch the hem of her mother's legacy?
Would she still deserve to be called an elder sister? When her younger sister's radiant achievements had crushed her into the dust?
Without all of that… what would King Halo have left to prove she was still herself?
If every meaning she had attached to the name King Halo over all these years was stripped away… what remained in this world? A girl who looked like King Halo, but was… what, really?
Maybe just an empty shell.
In the hollow silence of the room, King Halo buried her face in her knees. This fragile, doubtful, pitiable, laughable version of herself existed only here, only in this moment.
When she stepped back into everyone's view, she would become again that confident, first-class Uma Musume who loved to cackle with odd laughter.
Until the day came when her dream of being first-class was torn to pieces—
Before King Halo truly became that hollow shell—
No one would notice.
No one could.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.