Most people would find it charming. The anger from the Kikkasho had surely faded over two months. Anyone still holding a grudge was just a hardcore Bourbon fan, and I could respect that kind of loyalty.
I wanted to use this interview to pivot her public image. Umamusume are idols as much as athletes.
"So, Rice, for today, just be yourself. Be the charming girl you are. Sit there, look a little overwhelmed... honestly, that blush you have right now is perfect. Keep that."
"U-Understood!"
The time came. We stepped into the room, and the barrage of flashes was blinding.
Urara was there too, tucked away in a corner with strict instructions to remain quiet. I wanted her to see what the big stage looked like. Outside the windows, a literal wall of students had gathered to watch, like a packed subway train.
There were at least fifty reporters. TV crews, magazine writers, guys with voice recorders and notebooks.
(Wait, are those cameras rolling live? Is this being broadcast?!)
I felt a bead of sweat roll down my neck. I put on my best "serious trainer" face. It started off easy—softball questions about her gratitude for the fan votes and her goals for the race.
Rice followed the script perfectly. "I'm honored to be here... I'll work hard..."
I handled the technical questions, stating clearly that our goal was first place.
But then, the mood shifted. A tabloid journalist in the back raised his hand.
"Congratulations on the selection. However, much of the public still feels that they were robbed of seeing Mihono Bourbon's Triple Crown. Do you have anything to say to the fans whose dreams you ended?"
"I see," I said, swallowing a sharp retort. What does Bourbon have to do with this race?
I felt Rice stiffen beside me. Her hand began to tremble. Under the table, I reached out and squeezed her hand firmly. Don't let them see you flinch, Rice.
"Is that all?" I asked the reporter.
"Excuse me?"
"Is that the whole question? Or was there a point to it?" I gave him a look of feigned confusion.
The reporter bristled. "Mihono Bourbon was an undefeated legend in the making! You stopped that record! Do you not understand the gravity of what was lost?"
In the corner of the room, I saw Ms. Hayakawa—the Academy's executive assistant—wearing a very thin, very scary smile. She caught my eye and gave me a subtle "shoot" sign with her fingers, like a pistol.
I noticed the other reporters looking annoyed. This was an Arima Kinen preview, and this guy was wasting time on old drama.
I realized Ms. Hayakawa might have let this guy in on purpose. A "villain" to make Rice the victim. Or maybe I was overthinking it. Regardless, I had the green light to fire back.
"Ah... so you're unhappy with the Kikkasho results? That's strange. The URA hasn't flagged the race for any infractions, and Bourbon's camp hasn't filed any protests. So... what exactly is the problem?"
"You betrayed the fans' expectations!" the reporter shouted.
"Expectations? My Rice met her fans' expectations perfectly by taking first place. What's the issue?"
"I'm not talking about her fans! I'm talking about the public! The record! Don't you have an apology for the world?!"
The guy was practically spitting. I looked at Ms. Hayakawa again; she was waving her hand in front of her face as if to say, "Go ahead, bury him."