Uncrowned King

The press conference dragged on far longer than needed. But when it finally ended, Ibarra felt the relief wash over her like a cool breeze.

“That was great, Ibarra. But you made a scene out there,” her trainer joked.

“Heh. I got a little carried away,” Ibarra admitted with a grin. “No regrets. Can you imagine Es’ face? She must be having a crisis now.”

She burst out in a hearty laugh.

“Hey now, take it easy on her,” the trainer chided, shaking his head. But then his tone shifted, softer. “Seriously though...”

Ibarra stopped and looked at him.

“Thank you for taking my dream this far, Ibarra.”

She rubbed her nose, grinning sheepishly. “Don’t sweat it, Trainer. Your dream and my dream... they overlap. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

The trainer chuckled, but there was something heavier behind it. “Right...”

Ibarra zipped her bag shut and pushed it into her locker. Her gaze softened, drifting back in time.

“You know, I didn’t even know if racing was ever my dream,” she admitted wistfully. “But when Father took me to the racetrack for the first time... he showed me something I’ll never forget.”

She sighed. “Years ago, that track went bankrupt. And lately, I heard another one’s shutting down. When people told me racing was dead, I was really hurt.”

The trainer lowered his cap, guilt tugging at him. He had half-believed the same words himself once.

Ibarra turned toward the wide-open door, watching the Umas training on the oval field under the glow of the setting sun.

“I want people to love racing again,” she said firmly. “And I want to be the one to do just that. Someone who brings joy, pride, and identity — who inspires them to be their best.”

A sudden gust of wind rushed into the room, casting Ibarra in the fiery glow of sunset. Her figure seemed larger than life.

“A hero...” the trainer muttered under his breath.

As Ibarra's tracksuit flapped against the wind, she slowly turned toward him — only for a stray piece of paper to slap against her face.

“Tch. My monologue...” she groaned, swatting it away as she flushed.

The trainer muffled a laugh behind his hand.

“Anyway, I need to call Mama and sis,” Ibarra said, brushing it off. “See you later, Trainer.”

“Alright. Don’t stay out too late.” He smiled. “And congratulations.”

Ibarra waved casually and disappeared through the doorway.

The trainer bent down and picked up the paper she had dropped — a glossy Triple Crown promo flyer with Ibarra’s face at the front.

He smirked, set it neatly on the table, and walked out.

---

Ibarra’s stomach growled as she stepped out toward the academy gates. She hadn’t eaten much before the race — her pre-race regimen always left her starving afterward.

With some extra money the trainer had rewarded her for the win, she decided to spoil herself.

But before she stepped out, she stopped short, smacking her forehead.

“Great. I almost forgot...”

Pivoting on her heel, she jogged back onto the campus.

Ibarra reached the dormitory phone just as another Uma hung up. Sliding into the booth, Ibarra lifted the receiver and dialed.

The line rang once. Twice. Finally, someone picked up.

At home, the phone rang through the living room.

“Hey, bunso! Your sister’s on the phone!”

“Coming, Mama!”

Ibarra's sister nearly tripped down the stairs, still in the yellow shirt and blue jumper she wore in the race. She grabbed the receiver, heart racing.

“Hello? Ate?”

“Danee!” Ibarra’s voice crackled warmly through the line. “Sorry, I didn’t catch you on the track earlier.”

“It’s okay. Mama and I went to HappyBee after the race. I had a bucket of fried chicken and unlimited rice!” Danee bragged.

“Seriously, bunso. You’ll spend all of Mama’s money like that.” Ibarra teased, though her own stomach growled at the thought. “I’m about to eat two buckets of chicken myself. With gravy. A whole mountain of it.”

“No rice?” Danee teased. “Afraid of getting fat?”

“Oi, you cheeky brat.” Ibarra’s grin widened. “What about you, shorty? Keep eating rice so you’ll grow fatter and taller.”

Danee’s ears drooped, her lips pouting. Ibarra laughed at the awkward silence that followed, knowing she had gotten under her sister’s skin.

“Hey... did you watch the interview?” Ibarra asked.

“Yes,” Danee replied flatly. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Ibarra scratched her head. “C’mon, give me something.”

“The race then. They all looked strong. But you beat them clean.”

“Really?” Ibarra chuckled. “I just ran. I didn’t even know what was happening around me.”

“You’re just really focused, Ate,” Danee said softly. “I know you’ll win the next race too.”

Ibarra’s smile turned gentle. “Oh well. If you say so.”

On the other end of the line, Danee twisted the phone cord around her fingers, her voice trembling.

“Ate... do you think I can do it?”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“Do you think I can get a scholarship like you?”

Ibarra froze. The question pierced deeper than she expected. She sighed, shaking her head.

“Tch. Of course you can,” she reassured her sister. “You know why?”

Danee held her breath, ears twitching as she waited.

“Because you’re my little sister. If you work hard, you’ll see it for yourself.”

Danee’s eyes sparkled.

“So eat a lot. Study hard. And when you get here...” Ibarra’s grin returned. “We’ll race.”

Danee’s chest swelled with excitement.

“Opo, Ate!”

---

After the call, Ibarra finally let her hunger lead her toward the restaurant. But halfway down the street, a silhouette crossed her path.

At first, she ignored it. Then the headlights of a passing car illuminated a black cat in the middle of the road, its eyes glowing yellow as it stared at her.

Ibarra slowed, exhaling through her nose.

“Perfect. Just what I needed.”

With a shrug, she walked past.

---

Ten days later, the city awoke to shocking news.

TV screens flickered with headlines. Newspapers rolled off the presses in stacks. Reporters buzzed.

Danee, on her way home, stopped dead in the middle of the public square. Her eyes locked onto the giant monitor above, mouth falling open as the words scrolled across the screen.

BREAKING: TRIPLE CROWN CONTENDER IBARRA INJURED, WITHDRAWS FROM FINAL RACE.