"I will win. Whether it's the Japan Derby or the Kikuka-shō, the Golden Tyrant will defeat and surpass you, seizing the championship!"
Orfevre's head snapped up, her golden hair cutting a sharp arc through the air. Her hands were clenched into tight fists, knuckles white with strain.
A low growl rumbled in her throat, like an injured sovereign issuing a threat to a rival.
Faced with Orfevre's snarling menace, Dream Weaver actually took another step forward.
Her footsteps were firm and deliberate, her heels tapping out a clear, sharp rhythm on the floor.
Dream Weaver tilted her chin up slightly; the red ribbon tied in her ponytail swayed gently with the movement. A keen light glinted in her eyes as she fixed her gaze squarely on Orfevre's glass-like pupils.
"But I don't see a lion in your eyes."
"The Golden Tyrant might be able to defeat Dream Weaver… but what about Orfevre?"
As she spoke, Dream Weaver reached out and lightly tapped Orfevre's chest, as if questioning her very heart.
"Orfevre can do it too! Every one of your base stats is far below mine. By the time of the Japan Derby a month from now, the gap between us will be even wider!"
"I will win! I absolutely will win! The 'Zone' isn't the key to victory. With peerless physical strength, I can defeat you even without its power!"
Orfevre violently swatted Dream Weaver's hand away. An unnatural flush spread across her cheeks, her chest heaving rapidly. She straightened her back, as if trying to prove something.
"That's right."
Dream Weaver suddenly smiled.
"In a race between Uma Musume, the 'Zone' can't truly decide the outcome. In many top-tier races, world-class Uma Musume can seize victory through pure physical ability alone."
"But… do you still have that resolve now? That will? The 'Zone' is the sublimation of an Uma Musume's spirit. In your current mental state, can you truly master your own body? You might even crash into the rail, you know?"
She tilted her head slightly, posing the question to Orfevre in a tone of inquiry.
"This is my body! There's no reason I can't master it!"
Orfevre was practically shouting now, the glass display cases in the shop vibrating faintly from the force of her voice.
"Is that so? Then why aren't you looking me in the eyes? It's just about controlling your gaze—should be simple enough, right?"
Hearing this, Orfevre froze. She only then realized her sight had unconsciously drifted away from Dream Weaver. She was staring at the scattered magazines around them—had she been shouting those words at the magazines?
Upon realizing this, it was as if all her strength drained away instantly. She slumped back down onto the sofa behind her.
Dream Weaver didn't stop. She cupped Orfevre's face in her hands, lifting it to meet her eyes.
"You've already failed once. If you were truly seeking your next victory, you wouldn't be out visiting a jewelry exhibition at a time like this."
"You've already started running away. And an Uma Musume who runs away will never win another race."
"You're afraid. Afraid you'll fail again next time. Afraid you can't live up to people's expectations. Afraid their love will turn to hatred."
"Like this, forget about the glory of the Gold Family. You can't even uphold your current self. The Golden Tyrant is already an inseparable part of Orfevre."
"Without her, all that will remain in the world is the aloof, cold Orfevre of the past."
Orfevre was silent for a long time before she finally spoke in a low voice.
"…How do you know all this?"
"I heard it. Your heart was speaking to me."
"What nonsense…"
"I know another Uma Musume who also calls herself a sovereign. She told me the cheers of the crowd are the glory bestowed upon the victor."
"She can confidently accept everyone's expectations of her."
"What are you implying…? Mocking me for lacking the capacity to bear expectations? That I'm just a False King?"
Hearing Dream Weaver mention this so-called friend, Orfevre didn't know if she even existed, taking it only as another jab at her expense.
To her surprise, Dream Weaver shook her head at her words, her tone softening.
"I don't have that ability either. The mere thought of so many strangers placing their hopes on me makes me tense up instinctively."
"I can't even imagine how you've endured living under such expectant gazes for so long. To possess such fortitude… how could you possibly be a False King?"
Seeing Dream Weaver's tone shift inexplicably, Orfevre was momentarily bewildered. She stared blankly at Dream Weaver and asked,
"What… are you trying to say?"
Seeing her look so vulnerable—so utterly unlike the Golden Tyrant—Dream Weaver smiled.
"I get nervous. I feel anxious, fearing I'll let people down. But—"
"The moment I remember there's still a figure ahead I must chase, all of that becomes unimportant."
She pressed her forehead against Orfevre's, whispering softly by her ear.
"From the very second before I entered Kasamatsu Tracen, I heard your name. Every single minute, from local races to central ones, I heard someone mention you."
"Orfevre. You are the rival I must defeat, the one I must pursue. With such a powerfully imposing opponent right before me, how could I possibly care about so-called expectations?"
"The reason you fear losing people's expectations is precisely because you've been running alone at the front of the pack for far too long!"
"With no rivals in the race, it's only natural you'd subconsciously focus more on things outside the track."
"But isn't there an opponent here now?"
Dream Weaver's breath brushed against Orfevre's cheek, but this time it wasn't cold and sharp like a blade. It was gentle, like a spring breeze.
"If you're afraid of hearing others' praise, if you don't want to be drowned by that mountain-like, tidal wave of expectation anymore, then—"
"Look at me."
Orfevre stared dumbfounded at Dream Weaver. Their golden and black hair strands were now tangled together from their closeness. The proud, molten gold seemed to have cooled slightly, infused with hints of Dream Weaver's color.
"This is our race. Our contest. Those people outside the track will never understand our feelings."
"Rather than worrying about their expectations, just look at me. Watch how I run. Think about how to surpass me. Calculate the path to victory in your heart."
As if struck by a thought, Dream Weaver suddenly let out a soft laugh.
"I'm your fated rival now, you know."
"You have to keep your eyes on me."
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T/N: ENEMIES TO LOVERS ON TOP!?
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T/N: Also, LOVE how mc keeps mentioning TM Opera O like... thats my conqueror.
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T/N: New Uma Musume Fic up!
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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.