The foreigner issue had put the Central Committee in a precarious position. If they couldn't turn the tables, their standing would plummet.
Akikawa Yayoi and Tokai Teio had clearly formed a united front. The racers the Central Committee had groomed were easy to control but ultimately useless in a crisis. The Reboot Plan had shattered years of Central's careful planning in an instant, and now, desperate to save themselves, they had no time for anything else.
Just as the Central Committee members were at their wits' end, T stepped forward. "My lords, I have an idea, if I may be so bold as to share it."
Naturally, they expected him to share it.
"Just say what's on your mind," a Central Committee member waved a weary hand.
"I've uncovered some information. It seems Kousei won't be able to compete in the upcoming races due to her old injuries."
"Oh? Have you verified this?"
"Of course." T handed over a stack of documents. "These are Kousei's medical records and physical data."
A Central Committee member glanced through them. "How did you get your hands on these?"
"Central is our territory. Kousei's movements within Central naturally leave traces."
A Central Committee member hummed in acknowledgment. They had indeed heard many rumors lately about Kousei's chronic injuries not having healed. The streets were buzzing with talk that Kousei wasn't appearing because she simply couldn't run anymore, forcing her to rely on the foreigners to fight in her stead.
Combined with the official information released by the Racing Association after Kousei's Arc de Triomphe victory, the rumors seemed quite credible.
"What's your idea?" The Central Committee member knew the facts but couldn't see how they related to their current predicament.
"Mejiro McQueen will be competing in the upcoming Spring Tenno Sho."
At this, the Central Committee member sat up straight. "The 'Heavenly Horse'?"
"Of course. Is there another Mejiro McQueen in Central?"
"She's actually competing in the Spring Tenno Sho? Has she fully recovered?" the member asked in disbelief.
"Yes. Mejiro McQueen's recent pre-race training has been excellent, nearly on par with her peak form."
"Oh... that's truly good news." For the first time in days, the Central Committee member finally heard something positive.
"If Mejiro McQueen is willing to race, the foreigners won't be a problem." The member had complete confidence in Mejiro McQueen.
"Yes," T agreed. "My point is, we can send our elite racers into this Spring Tenno Sho to publicly promote our training philosophy. Since Mejiro McQueen will be there, as long as our racers make a strong showing in the race, we'll have a chance to restore our reputation."
The Central Committee member understood T's meaning. With the race being a guaranteed win, the Central Committee just needed to project an image of tirelessly fighting against the foreigners—a narrative of dedication unto death. A media blitz would then be enough to significantly restore their reputation.
It was indeed a good plan, but the Central Committee member, cautious after years of experience, was still weighing the options.
"My lords," T pressed, "you all know Mejiro McQueen's condition. The Spring Tenno Sho might be her last race. If we miss this opportunity, there may never be another."
The Central Committee member was already tempted. The foreigners' relentless offensive and the increasingly negative public opinion had them gasping for air. They were running out of time to deliberate.
Perhaps this truly was their only chance.
After a brief discussion, the Central Committee members reached a consensus.
"Alright. We'll entrust this matter to you. When it's done, you'll be well rewarded."
T smiled and bowed respectfully. "I am at your service, my lords."
After leaving the room, T immediately made a phone call. "Got it done. Thanks to you, Aoi."
"It was nothing," Aoi replied. "Since Kousei asked for it, I had no reason to refuse."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, T hung up. He was overjoyed, his steps noticeably lighter.
Time flew by, and the day of the Spring Tenno Sho arrived.
In the foreigners' entrance tunnel, Contrail stood trembling. Time seemed to crawl, so slowly that she felt her breathing might stop.
The crisp sound of hooves echoed from the darkness. Contrail's hair stood on end as she stared nervously into the depths. Mist crept around her feet, and her heart leaped into her throat.
Dark robes, serpentine eyes—the figure in the mist gradually revealed her true form.
"Kousei-senpai..."
As expected, Contrail faltered in Kousei's presence. Her crimson eyes flickered, radiating a murderous aura. This wasn't the Kousei she knew.
"It's you. What do you want?"
Though Kousei seemed like a stranger, Contrail forced herself to step forward. "Kousei-senpai... why are you doing this?"
"What are you referring to?"
"Why are you leading the foreigners to trample Central? Weren't you fighting for Central...? Didn't you want to become the Umamusume who carries everyone's hopes?!" The image of Kousei fighting fiercely in the Japan Cup was still etched in Contrail's mind. That was the moment her admiration began, and she couldn't accept that the senpai she idolized would now do something like this.
Kousei sighed, her gaze now filled with disappointment, tinged with a bitter regret—the frustration of seeing potential squandered.
"They call me a villain, a monster. Fine, then I'll be one. At this point, what do you think I'm fighting for? Let me tell you: the only reason I could continue at the NAU was because the people of the North supported me, stitch by stitch. Without them, I wouldn't have even made it out of the North.
"Even when hope was slim, they still believed in me. I've carried that debt in my heart ever since."
Even in the competitors' tunnel, the cheers for Kousei were deafeningly clear.
"Do you hear that? Those are the people cheering for me. The people of the North traveled thousands of miles to Central just for me. And now you ask me why?
"I am their Hero. I am their Commander-in-Chief. I will conquer new lands for the North. I will make Central our stepping stone. From this day forward, the North will no longer be Central's vassal.
"And you? Who are you?"
"Who... am I?" Contrail reeled, completely disoriented by Kousei's verbal assault.
"Forget it. I misjudged you," Kousei said, shaking her head. "I heard you're retiring. If that's true, I won't allow you to leave wearing my Personal Racing Outfit."
Contrail froze as if struck by lightning, then cried out, "Wait! You can't do that!"
"I can," Kousei retorted, her voice cutting like steel. "I'll ask my father to revoke your right to use it. You... are too weak."
"No... no..." Contrail stumbled backward, fleeing down the corridor in a daze.
"Did you really have to go that far?"
Only after Contrail had gone did Caesar emerge from the shadows. Kousei's expression darkened, but she offered no explanation.
"I'm heading out. I need you to cut off the Central Committee members' escape route. This is my only chance. I cannot fail."
"I understand. You can count on me."
"Thank you, Caesar."
"We're comrades. Isn't it natural for us to help each other?"
They exchanged a brief, knowing smile. Kousei took a deep breath. "I'm going now, comrade."
"May fortune favor you in battle."
The racetrack was a sea of people. As soon as news of Mejiro McQueen's comeback broke, tickets for the Spring Tenno Sho became nearly impossible to find, drawing crowds so large it seemed the city's streets had emptied.
After all, in these extraordinary times, the significance of Mejiro McQueen's appearance was immense. While the seat shortage was partly due to the massive influx of people from the North, the overwhelming enthusiasm for the Spring Tenno Sho remained undiminished.
McQueen stood majestically in her Personal Racing Outfit—the living legend of Central, the undisputed sovereign of the Spring Tenno Sho. The other Central Committee members' racers dared not approach her, their hearts filled with unease.
"What's going on? Wasn't Kousei supposed to be sitting this one out? Why are they chanting her name?"
As if to answer their question, Kousei strode proudly from the tunnel, igniting another wave of thunderous cheers. McQueen glanced at her, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Unlike the spectators from the North, the Central audience fell silent the moment they saw Kousei, a strange dread creeping into their hearts.
The Central Committee's racers tensed as if facing a mortal enemy. They locked their gazes on Kousei simultaneously, their expressions promising a fight to the death.
Kousei paid them no mind, walking straight ahead. The other racers struggled internally, their trembling bodies betraying their fear.
Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they lowered their heads and parted, creating a path. Kousei walked through without so much as a glance in their direction.
The Umamusume of ill omen had arrived at Central, just as the prophecy foretold.
"It's Kousei! McQueen won't lose, will she?!"
"N-No! It's fine! Kousei has never beaten McQueen in the Twinkle Series! This time will be no different!"
"Right?! That's right! We're talking about Mejiro McQueen!"
Kousei's gaze swept over the gossiping spectators, instantly silencing them. She chuckled and turned to McQueen. "A fair assessment, I suppose."
McQueen didn't respond directly. Instead, she said, "I've been waiting for you for a long time."
Their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of memories seemed to pass between them.
"Was the surgery successful?" McQueen asked.
"A complete success. I'm in peak condition."
"Good. It would be a shame if you weren't at your best for our long-awaited race."
Kousei glanced around the track before turning back to McQueen. "Do you know what I was thinking after I won the Arc de Triomphe?"
"What?"
"Back then, I thought I had reached the summit. But when I looked up, I realized the 'sky' was still above me. To this day, people still believe Kousei can't defeat Mejiro McQueen."
"I can never let you go. You are both my ideal and my inner demon. My dream has never changed: I will [Surpass the Peak]. I will see the view that lies beyond it.
And now, the [Peak] stands right before me."
Without warning, flames erupted, the searing heatwave knocking back the spectating Umamusume and preventing them from getting any closer.
Within that sea of fire, two legends faced off on the Kyoto grounds.
"If you lose the Spring Tenno Sho, you'll have no excuses left, will you?"
The clear sky instantly darkened, the oppressive clouds threatening to crush all life below.
"Hahahahaha!"
Lightning flashed and thunder roared as a gale swept across the track.
"Bring it on, you defeated foe."
Not just Central, but the entire world watched this summit clash. It was unlikely this generation would ever witness a race more worthy of attention.
The Summit War—
[The Strongest of Their Era: White Lightning] vs. [The Unbeaten, Unstoppable Silver Demon]
The Final Gray-Haired Legend—