Chapter Text
The year is 1935. The blazing middle of the Great Depression.
A loaf of bread cost more than a silver horse shoe and nobody had the means to get one.
The racing world of America is very different from what it is in the modern day.
Opportunities for Umamusume were rare and safety regulations were flimsy at best.
Desperateness and competition ground rivalries to resentment and frustration.
At times, it felt less like a sport and more like a fight for survival. And yet, with its dangers and risks, countless umas put it all on the line for a chance at glory.
It was a time of great sorrow. The whole country seemed to be in a musty malaise, turning to the racing scene to find a spark of excitement to keep them going.
The country needed a light in the fog. Something to push them to persevere and survive some of the hardest years the country faced in a long time.
What they got was an uma who defied every expectation of her, each race symbolizing more than a win or loss, but rather the embodiment of perseverance despite the entire world being stacked against you.
…
What a cheesy way to start an underdog story
—-
WHPT!! WHPT!! WHPT!!!
“WILL YOU STOP!?”
WHPT!! WHPT!!
“IM GOING!! BY THE GODDESSES!!”
Two umamusume thundered down the dirt track. One in front of the other. The one in the back was holding a stick with a handle, and a rectangular leather piece at the end. A running crop. She was mercilessly swatting it at the legs of the girl in front of her whenever her pace started to lag, which was mere seconds after she stopped swatting.
The uma in front was gravely frustrated. She kept looking back at her aggressor, her running form was a total eyesore and she was hugging the rail like her life depended on it. As they approached the middle of the back straight, the umamusume in front was already breaking a sweat and breathing hard. She hated this. The umamusume in the back was hesitant to keep swatting the running crop, seeing her teammate so upset because of her, but her trainers orders were final, and surely he knew what he was doing, right?
Over on the other side of the track, an old man, bent over from years that haven’t been kind, held a stop watch. His gaze flickered between the small, distant forms and the arrow slowly increasing with the seconds that ticked by. Her time is quicker. He knew she was capable of going faster than 50 seconds per half mile, she just hates to let him see it. It’s a shame how this seems to be the only way he can reach it…
The two umamusume begin exiting the final corner, the uma taking the rear has yet to stop using the crop, urging her teammate to keep pushing in the final furlongs. The front runner tried to push away, outpace her to get her to lay off, but she couldn’t get far enough. The two sped past the old man, being the makeshift goal post, and he clicked the stopwatch the second they did. As he checked the final number, the two umas began to decelerate to catch their breath.
“What the FUCK is your problem, Red Dice?! That’s shit HURTS you know, I need my legs to actually WORK to RUN!” the front running uma roared as soon as she slowed down enough. Her long braid whipped around as she turned to her running partner like a scorpion tail aiming to sting.
Red Dice recoiled at the sudden aggression “Wh!? I-?! Maybe I wouldn’t have to use the crop so much if you stopped slowing down, SEABISCUIT! That’s why I'm running with you in the first place…” she huffed, scraping the dirt under her cleats in frustration.
Seabiscuit scraped the floor as well, the frustration mutual. “Maybe I won’t slow down so much if you stopped hitting my ankles like they FUCKED YOUR MOTHER.”
She punctuated the sentence with a hearty shove to Red Dice’s chest, pushing her back a pace. Red Dice huffed in anger and shock at her audacity, stepping forward to push Seabiscuit back “THIS is why you LOSE every race in the back of the pack. You're slower than a three legged turtle and TWICE AS STUPID!!”
Seabiscuit felt her face get hot. Her muscles tensed up, getting ready to launch herself onto her teammate, but a wrinkled hand, firm on her shoulder, kept her in place.
Her trainer, Mr. Fitzgerald. He had silently walked over to them, somehow sneaking up on them both. Seabiscuit quickly bit her tongue and scrambled to put a lid on her anger. Concentrated hatred escaped her in a single stomp onto the ground. She slowly turned to face the old man. His eyes were hidden under his bowler hat, and his mouth was in that weird frown old men seem to have as a default, but always felt deeper when he looked at Seabiscuit.
“That was a good time…” his voice felt like stones roughly scraping against each other. Seabiscuit fought the urge to flick her ears at it “Let’s do another lap…”
If he was aware of the sparks flying between the two umamusume he didn’t seem to care, as he began shuffling back into place behind the railing. The two bays glared at each other as they started walking into position as well.
——
Seabiscuit tenderly walked across the campus in the direction of her dorm room. She could already feel the bruises forming on her calves from the ruthless whippings Red Dice had dished her. That’s yet another peer of hers turned against her.
Most students who knew her story saw her as a charity case. Promised a spot in the school and a trainer so long as she does all his chores (of which she KNOWS is gonna leave her sore tomorrow as well) without having to pay the schools entrance fee at all despite not having a scholarship or anything. A luxury many could only dream of, and were deeply envious of.
Especially since Seabsicuit proved incompetently unable to prove she deserved such a luxury.
17 races in a row she’s lost. Many of them, far far behind the leader. Many umas were lucky to even start 17 times and here she was, no wins to her name, still running. A better racer would use each loss as an opportunity to grow, and turn the sting of defeat into a flame of motivation. But she wasn’t a better racer.
A loss only means heavier training and that disappointed glare and ridicule from her teammates. It’s all turned her bitter. Maybe if she knew how ruthless they’d all be she wouldn’t have bothered with even dreaming about racing. Maybe pulling carts for a living wasn’t so bad in retrospect…
She hated losing more than anything but it’s hard to run your best when your muscles ache from racing twice in a week and you can’t get your mind to focus and it felt like everyone on the field would happily trample you to get to the goal post first.
Seabiscuit rounded the corner to reach the large building that housed all the umas in the school. The sun was beginning to creep lower, changing the sky from blue to the beginnings of yellow and orange. Not quite quitting time, but she’s had her fair share of work today already, and who cares about dinner.
Several girls were crowded towards the entrance. A friend group saying goodbyes before splitting to their respective dorms. Unfortunately, they blocked the way in, and didn’t seem to be in a rush to move. Seabiscuit scowled as she slowly limped closer. She already knew this was gonna be a headache. Her ears pinned in anticipation.
Her embarrassing loss streak wasn’t looked over by her tormentors in the academy, either. Some of the ruder of the racers would heckle her for it. “Last again, Seabiscuit?” “You're supposed to be the FIRST to cross the line you know!” then act appalled she would dare try to defend herself, verbally or physically. Sometimes she wished they would pester her, rile her up so she had an excuse to attack them and knock those smirks off their faces.
Her fighting reputation was just as bad as her racing one, however. She was often outnumbered, or out experienced, and on the rare occasions she did win, they often would come back the next day for revenge or with backup. It did work, though, fighting back. Some of them found it was too much trouble to keep getting in fights with her and leave her alone. Other times it only encouraged the bullying, trying to see how angry they can make her before she snaps back.
As she got closer to the group of umas crowded by the door, one of them spotted her, and tried to get the attention of the others, who were still talking. Seabiscuit couldn’t quite make out what was being said, her ears pinning would muffle sound slightly, but she could take a good guess from the way the others started to turn and look. She recognized these guys. Some of them were on her team. They knew her.
Seabiscuit was too tired to fight. She just wanted them to take two steps to the side and let her through. Just wanted to go to bed and start a new day. But the way they were looking at her had her tensing up and readying for another battle.
——
Seabiscuit wiped her bleeding nose. If she was sorely walking before she was full on limping now. She was getting better at this fighting thing, though, having landed a few good blows before she was properly overwhelmed.
She gingerly grabbed the hand rail as she slowly ascended the staircase up to her floor. Her head felt fuzzy, like she’d been spun around too many times and couldn’t think straight anymore. She had scrapes along her arms and legs from being thrown into the ground and she might’ve broken her nose again.
Seabiscuit silently thanked the goddesses that her room was close to the stairs as she finally reached the top. After slowly unlocking the door, she quickly went to the counter where the first aid kit was kept. She crammed a tissue up her nose and opened some bandaids to cover the spots that were still bleeding. She turned to the rest of the dorm, seeing the boxes and bags packed on the barren side of the room, belonging to her roommate.
She didn’t want to be mean to her roommate as well, she really didn’t. But after countless days of grueling practice and ceaseless bullying, she didn’t have the patience to be kind and considerate, and her roomie had had enough. Putting in a transfer request and moving out after only a few months. Luckily for her, it went through quickly and she’ll be out before the week ended.
Seabiscuit flopped onto her bed, not bothering to change out of her uniform. Luckily for her roommate, she won’t have to deal with her tonight. She’s gonna fall dead asleep right there.
She had just been jostled around a little, really. Thrown to the ground after growling at the crowd to move over and, expectantly, receiving friction for her attitude. None of them really knew what to do, they just tried to drag her around in different directions, uncoordinated, giving Seabiscuit a chance to wiggle free and strike at them. In all honesty it was hardly a fight, just a girl trying to make it too much of an effort to grab onto her.
Regardless, she still left with scrapes and bruises, as usual. Seabiscuit felt herself drifting off as her long, tiring day finally caught up to her. The sun could barely be considered set before her mind slipped away, providing relief from her sore muscles and aching injuries.
——
“SEABISCUIT!!!!!…..SEABISCUIT!!!!!!”
Seabiscuit startled awake to a loud knocking coming from her wooden door, and a raspy, grating voice from the other side. A split second later, yesterday's events registered in her body, the soreness and pain bloomed across her skin as she sat up, begging her to lay back down.
“urrgh…” gingerly, Seabiscuit took a second to wake up properly. She recognized the voice knocking on her door. She slowly got up, careful not to aggravate her bruises.
“I’m up! I’m up!…..by the Goddesses, it’s too early for this…” Seabiscuit bitterly shuffled to her door, grateful that her roommate had awoken before her and left, not having to deal with the ruckus. She groggily turned the handle and opened the door.
Her annoyed face dropped and paled upon seeing her trainer's face. His eyes, usually obscured from his hat, glared at her from under the shadow. The cane he was using to knock on her door roughly slammed back to the ground.
“Come to my office…” Seabiscuit couldn’t help but shudder. His voice was laced with ice. Disappointment was not a new emotion on him, especially directed towards her. Any trainer would be the same, between her abhorrent race record and lack of genuine cooperation with her peers, she was a nightmare to work with, no matter how experienced or talented the trainer.
And her trainer WAS talented. He was a nation-wide champion of a trainer known for raising some of the top-class umas known to the sport. Whitney “Sunshine” Fitzgerald. He saw potential in her, he had said that when he saw her, and that alone was the reason he accepted her mothers absurd request of taking her in. He must be losing his eyes, though, because she hasn’t done anything noteworthy under his guidance to justify what he’s done.
He lets her stay at the academy free of charge, pulling all these strings just to let it happen, and all she can offer in return is angst and shit quality running.
Seabiscuit tries not to let the stiffness in her legs show. He for sure can see the injuries from last night, but he doesn’t have to know his training roughed her up as well. Regardless, he walks slowly, quietly. No matter how angry he is, he is still an old, old man.
The walk outside of the dorms, across campus, and towards the “team houses” was long and uncomfortable. Several times Seabiscuit was tempted to break the silence, but that would risk the conversation to happen in public where everyone could see, and she’d rather sit in silence then be chewed out in front of everyone.
When they finally arrived at the little shed Fitzgerald called an “office” Seabiscuit could imagine the 1000 different things he could possibly want this time. As she slowly shut the old wooden door, she felt like a cow in a slaughterhouse sitting down on the chopping block.
Sunshine Fitzgerald stood, staring out a window facing the track. A few umas could be seen in the distance running along (‘faster than what I’ve ever given him, surely’ Seabiscuit thought to herself). He remained silent for a long time. He hadn’t even turned the lights on inside the shed, content with letting the morning sun illuminate things.
“Seabiscuit….” he finally spoke, “What am I to do with you….”
Seabiscuit shivered. Her long ears pivoted back and forth, instinctively looking for an exit that didn't exist.
“I know I push you hard ... I know you hate me...but you're old enough to know not to take it out on your own teammates…” he slowly turned around, now facing Seabiscuit and silhouetted by the sun outside.
Seabiscuit looked to the side, unable to meet his gaze. Her eyes darted around as the shame settled in at full force. Of course those kids ratted her out, no doubt leaving out the portion where they started it. Fitzgerald stepped forward, towering over her despite his own hunched back.
“I….I didn’t….” Seabiscuit's voice was weak and trembling, quickly losing any steam it had and trailing off. Fitzgerald’s gaze didn’t waver though. Gulping down excess fear, Seabsicuit tried again.
“I didn’t….do anything-“
“LIKE HELL YOU DID!!” Fitzgerald roughly gripped her arm. His grip quickly lost power but the tone of his voice didn’t, keeping Seabiscuit in place.
“Time and time again you claim you never look for trouble and yet it always finds you….” he snarled into her face, making her ears pin back in disgust.
Memories of the umas from last night flickered in her mind, their taunting gazes as they found enjoyment in dragging her across the concrete ground. The embarrassment of momentarily being helpless until she was able to thrash her way free and fighting her way out of it. His accusation lit a small flame in Seabiscuit, overriding her fear.
“It’s…TRUE” she hissed, “I just wanted to get in the dorms. They were the ones who decided to get violent.” Fitzgerald shook her arm around, forcing her quiet.
“AGAIN with the EXCUSES, Seabiscuit…that’s all you do, is give excuses….”
“You have potential. Potential to be something great, but you spit in my face every day for trying to bring it out of you. I’ve tried everything, Seabiscuit, everything. But you still give me a hard time…I don’t have time to hold your hand and make everyone like you, I'm raising WINNERS here…not preschoolers….”
He sharply let go of Seabiscuit's arm. Her eyes are pricked with tears and her breathing was deep and uneven from trying not to cry.
“…I hate you….” she growled in a low, pained voice, choking on a sob. Fitzgerald barely reacted “I get that a lot…”
He turned around, pointing to the lockers where everyone kept their track uniforms “Get changed, you have training. You will train until the track closes, and then your doing everyone’s laundry…”
Seabiscuit huffed angrily, she barely had the energy to argue with her trainer yet alone a full days of training, but knew better than to push against it. She wiped the tears that still cling to her eyes and caught her breath. Tail thrashing angrily, she spoke through gritted teeth: “Understood…”