Chapter Text
Her legs were starting to hurt from how long she had been standing, but she endured it nonetheless, as she had done numerous times before, as she stood there like a prisoner before the gallows.
“And that concludes our report,” said her trainer with a bow, even though the recipient could not see it.
Rudolf understood.
They were in her trainer’s office, all neat and clean and organized. A desk was placed in the center of the room, clean of any clutter or debris: everything that Yukiko Okabe would ever need was sorted into folders that were stacked with utmost precision into a stack that was on the corner of the desk. Everything else that would be relevant to either her or Rudolf could be found in one of the many binders on a small shelf on the wall or on her laptop.
There was a small couch pushed against the wall near the door and a tiny coffee table stood before it. There was a vase there with a single orchid dangling lazily off its side.
But Rudolf tried not to focus on that right now.
“This is far from acceptable,” came the crackly, deep voice of a man from the phone’s speaker.
Her father’s voice.
“Sir, with all due respect, I think these numbers show that Rudolf is far above her peers. Her projection is expected to be good if she debuts this month. Even the next one,” said her trainer, but Rudolf knew that it was pointless to argue when her father had made up his mind.
“Good, but could be better,” came the reply that she had heard countless times before in her youth.
“Well, yes, of course, but-”
“If it can be better, then it will be better. I don’t want the Symboli name to be muddied by subpar performances.”
“Mister Wada, I-”
“You have done well with training my Rudolf, Miss Okabe, but I expect better results. We will postpone her debut until a later date.”
“Miste-”
“Are we clear, Miss Okabe?” even through the cackling static, the firmness in his voice could be heard clearly through the speaker, making the other woman flinch in shock.
Rudolf was used to it.
“...yes, I understand,” she said with a defeated sigh.
“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.”
Rudolf saw her trainer’s shoulders sag even lower.
“And, Rudolf?”
Her heart froze for a second upon hearing her name in his voice.
“...no excuses, sir,” she said hurriedly after forcing her heart to return to its normal rhythm.
“I was not asking for excuses.”
Again, her heart stopped and she involuntarily closed her eyes, for all the good that did.
“I-”
“Will make sure this doesn’t happen again, right?”
Her throat felt painfully dry and no matter how many times she swallowed, nothing seemed to cure it.
“Right?” he asked again, this time angrier, frustrated, impatient.
“...y-yes, sir. I-it won’t happen again, sir,” she managed to force out of her mouth and it felt like someone ripping a cactus out of her throat.
“See that it doesn’t.”
Her hands balled into fists by her sides and she forced her head down to stare at the floor, like the petulant child she was.
“Laziness and sloppiness are traits that are unbecoming of a Symboli. I thought that was something you should have known by now.”
“I-”
“I don’t remember giving you permission to talk back.”
A slap to the face would have been less painful.
Tears began to prick the corners of her eyes.
She tried desperately to hold them back.
“You disappoint me immensely, Rudolf. See that you don’t embarrass me as well.”
Rudolf nodded curtly at the phone.
“Do I make myself clear, young lady?”
“Y-Yes, sir!” she answered with a shaky voice that she tried to stabilise to no avail.
“This meeting is over.”
“Mis-” began her trainer, but she was cut off by the call ending suddenly. And they stood in that dimly lit office, with Rudolf still slightly shaking with her ears flat against her head and Yukiko pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, with the beeping of the telephone machine bouncing off the walls in a deafening volume.
“I don’t know,” suddenly scoffed Yukiko.
“I don’t know what he wants. If you debuted tomorrow, you’d win without a doubt. What else does he want?”
Rudolf knew what he wanted.
He didn’t want her to just win: he wanted there to be zero chance of her losing.
He wanted her to dominate.
“...if you’ll excuse me,” she said suddenly before turning on her heels and walking out of her trainer’s room, barely even sparing a glance at her and slamming the door behind her before she could mutter the first hints of a comment of protest.
As soon as she stepped outside of the trainers’ wing of Tracen Academy and rounded the nearest corner to be out of sight, she doubled over and grabbed her chest, where her heart was beating furiously at what felt like a hundred miles per hour. She pressed her back against the wall as her legs grew weak and her eyes became full of salt and water. She wheezed and coughed and yelped as she tried to suck in as much air as she could so that maybe, just maybe, that would make things right.
It didn’t, and so she began to pound her chest instead as a punishment.
Punishment for not being a good enough Symobli.
Her legs gave out from underneath her and she slid down to the dirt below her with a hiccuped yell, hands clawing at her hair as the tears fell freely now.
It was times like these, when the pressure and the weight of it all became too much to bear, did she resent her name. Resented that she had to bear the name that was thrust upon her when she never wanted it.
Never asked for it, when all she wanted to do was run.
Not be Symboli Rudolf.
She didn’t know how long she stayed there, sitting alone in the dirt behind the building as she cried her eyes out. All she knew was that by the time she managed to get her breathing under control and her heart began to beat normally again, she had regained enough focus to once again put on her mask and stand up.
Like the cocking of a gun or the turning of a lock or the tick of a clock, it was like her psyche snapped her out of it. She didn’t feel in control as her legs moved her towards the turf, and perhaps that was a good thing.
After all, there was training to be done.
The door slammed against the wall as she burst into her hotel room. She threw her jacket onto the bed without looking before beginning to pace the length of the room with her hand in her hair.
“Get out of my room,” she said as soon as she heard a second pair of shoes enter the room.
“What was that, Sirius?” asked her trainer, his voice a mixture of anger and disappointment.
“I said get out of my room,” she repeated, voice harsher as she glared at the man, who clearly was not affected by her threat.
“Not until you explain what happened,” he said, crossing his arms and standing firmly.
Oh, how she wished she had something to throw at him right about now.
“It was a race,” she replied with clenched teeth.
“Obviously, but that’s not what I’m referring to. You actually did better than what was expected.”
“The fuck is that suposed to mean?” she snarled.
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Her fists twitched of their own accord.
“What I’m talking about is your post-race attitude,” he sighed, closing the door behind him and dragging out a seat to sit on it.
“I was pissed, sue me,” she answered curtly.
“Still are, by the looks of things,” he said, eyeing the hole she made in the wall with the door handle.
“Am I not allowed to feel emotions now?” she asked, her patience running thinner and thinner by the second.
“No-showing the winning live and running out of the stadium is not a good look.”
“For the Symbolis, right?” she asked with a sneer.
“For anyone, but right now especially for you,” he countered with a pointed glare.
“...I’m not apologizing.”
“I didn’t expect you to, to be honest,” he sighed, rubbing his face.
“Just know that this will have consequences for you.”
“Bite me,” she barked.
“I’m not your enemy here, Sirius.”
“You’re not my friend either,” she snapped, stepping up to him and glaring down at the man.
“You’re a trainer that was chosen for me. I didn’t choose you.”
“...I’m trying to help you here,” he said, matching her glare one for one and standing up from his seat.
“Didn’t ask for it,” she practically spat before turning around and walking to the hotel room’s balcony. She heard Kato exhale a deep sigh behind her as she continued to glare out the window with her arms crossed.
“I just…” he tried to say, but it seemed like the words were getting stuck in his throat as he let out a puff of air.
“I just want to know why. You finished third. That’s good, right?”
“Not good enough,” were the words that played automatically in her head upon hearing that.
It was always his voice that said it; nobody else could really match the disgust and shame and hatred he put behind them.
“...just get out,” she sighed. She could hear the way his shoulders sagged behind her before he swiftly exited the room with one final tired exhale. Once the door clicked shut, she slammed her head against the glass and kept it pressed against the cold surface. The breath she inhaled was shaky and shallow, and she could feel how her bones turned to lead beneath her skin.
Goddesses, she was tired.
She would love for nothing more than to crawl into a hole and just lie there until the world forgot about her and just left her alone.
She rubbed her eyes in a desperate attempt to stave off the exhaustion. It didn’t work.
“You ran well, Sirius,” she heard the voice that made her heart skip a beat and caused her breath to get stuck in her throat. She opened her eyes and they immediately snapped to the reflection of a small uma standing behind her, with a white streak running down her head. She was looking up at her with wide and bright eyes, the magenta pool shining in the dim light of the nightlife outside her room.
“I wish I could have run with you today,” said the reflection before giving her a toothy smile. She spun around with such force that it made her head spin, but when her eyes landed on the spot where the little girl had been, there was nothing.
Nobody but her.
Alone.
She felt her tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She rubbed at them with her palms, but the stinging refused to go away.
“Fuck,” she hissed as she curled herself into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest, letting the tears fall freely.
The sound of Ace slamming her head against her desk reverberated around the busy classroom, causing a few of her classmates to turn their heads in alarm at the source.
“I’m moving back to Hokkaido,” she said defeatedly, voice muffled by the wooden surface of her desk.
“I’m clearly too stupid to be a professional racer, so I might as well just embrace the country bumpkin I am and become a farmer.”
“Oh, please,” sighed Mont Cenis, who was standing by her side with her hand on her hip.
“It can’t be that bad. It’s just one test.”
C.B. took this as her opportunity to lift Ace’s head just slightly, enough to grab the graded test that their teacher handed back to them today and was currently pressed between Ace’s forehead and her desk. When she let go, her head bounced lamely back to the hardwood.
“Wow, I think there’s more red than black on this test,” she commented with genuine astonishment, causing the Mejiro to take a peek at the test as well.
“...okay, 36% might be that bad,” she conceded with a sigh.
“How do you mix up the Spring and Autumn Tenno Sho?”
“Because I’m stupid,” moaned Ace, still not lifting her head from her desk.
“Well, you still have a chance to redo the test at the very least,” sighed Mont Cenis with a shake of her head.
“How many times can you fail a test before you automatically fail the subject?” asked C.B.
“Two,” answered Ace with a groan.
“I’m going to have to take remedial classes.”
“I can help you out if you want,” offered Mont Cenis.
“What did you get?” asked C.B., looking at her own test on her desk.
“I got 93,” answered the Mejiro as she spared a quick glance at her test score.
“You?”
“80,” shrugged C.B.
“You probably could have gotten more if you actually studied,” sighed Mont Cenis.
“Probably,” shrugged C.B.
“But studying’s no fun. Besides, it's not like I’m aiming for the highest score in class anyway.”
“I think I’m gonna need both of your help if I plan to stay at Tracen,” sighed Ace, finally lifting her head and staring upside down at her friends behind her.
“How about asking the one who got the top grade?” suggested C.B.
“I thought I did?” said Ace, tilting her head towards Mont Cenis.
“I’m flattered, but I didn’t get the top grade,” answered the Mejiro.
“Then who did? You’re, like, the smartest person I know.”
“Why don’t we check?” suggested Mont Cenis with her cheeks tinted slightly pink.
“There should be a list out front on the blackboard with all the test scores.”
“Oh, goodie. So the whole class can know what a failure I am,” groaned Ace before reluctantly dragging her chair away from her desk and standing up.
“It's just a test,” sighed Mont Cenis.
“It's hardly like you're the first one to get a bad grade.”
“Doesn’t make it any less humiliating,” groaned Ace, making her way to the front of the class.
“Having the whole class know I got the lowest score. All they need to do is just look at it quickly and that’s it, boom, I become a laughing stock.”
“You didn’t get the worst score,” said Mont Cenis in an attempt to console her friend.
“See? Your name is above two other students!” she said, pointing at the bottom of the list that was taped to the blackboard.
“Actually, those were no-shows,” corrected C.B., propping her head to rest on Ace’s sagged shoulder.
The three of them felt a cold gust of wind blow between them.
“...see?” tried Mont Cenis to lighten the mood.
“You’re better than the people who didn’t even have the guts to show up,” added Mont Cenis as the shadow over Ace’s face grew larger by the second.
“They’re both dealing with injuries, so they weren’t able to take the test.”
“You’re not helping!” hissed Mont Cenis, to which C.B. merely giggled.
“Let’s just look at the top three and see if they can help you,” she sighed before she herself took a look at the list.
“Well, you’re number three,” said C.B., pointing at her name and her test score.
“Well, obviously I’m going to help you,” scoffed Mont Cenis.
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”
“Then the second best was…” said C.B., her breath tickling Ace’s cheek as she leaned closer to try and read the letters before them.
“Symboli Rudolf, 100.”
“The class representative? Figures,” nodded Mont Cenis.
“Yeah, let’s not ask her,” said Ace, defeat and despair still heavy in her voice.
“Something tells me she doesn’t like me.”
“What makes you say that?” asked C.B., head still resting on her shoulder.
“Call it a gut feeling,” she murmured.
“Not like she’s even around to ask,” commented Mont Cenis, casting a side glance towards the rest of the class.
“How is 100 second place, though?”
“It's a tie. Both the top students got the same grade,” answered Mont Cenis.
“Then who got first place?” asked C.B. All three of them leaned closer to read the name that was displayed proudly at the top of the list.
“...Sirius Symboli. Also 100,” read aloud Mont Cenis.
“Another Symboli? Are you kidding me?” groaned Ace.
“Who even is this? I have literally never heard her name get called in class or during roll call.”
“I think she’s abroad,” hummed C.B.
“How exactly does that work? She comes to none of the classes and still gets the top grade?” asked Mont Cenis.
“Beats me,” shrugged C.B.
“Well, we can’t exactly ask her for help,” said Ace with a heavy sigh.
“And I’m not going to ask Miss Class Rep, so that just leaves you, Monty.”
“Have no fear, Ace,” said Mont Cenis, offering her a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder.
“With my help, I’ll guarantee you’ll pass.”
“When is the date for your next attempt?” asked C.B. and this time Ace’s entire body sagged and the shadow grew to encompass her entire face.
“...two weeks from now,” she said and once again, all three of them felt that gust of wind blow through.
A gentle knock on his door interrupted his game of solitaire.
“Busy!” he called out, making a conscious effort to ignore the sound of the door handle turning.
“Yeah, like I believe that,” sighed Kojima as he entered his office without permission.
“Did you know you get mail? In your mailbox? In the staff room?” he asked, dumping a stack of envelopes, letters, and documents onto his desk.
“Sorry, I only open the ones labelled ‘NSFW,’” he answered, sliding the pile into his trash can, some of the letters missing their target and spilling onto the floor instead.
“I think one of those was about a payment,” said Kojima, pointing at the trash can.
“Eh,” he waved it off, doing his best to return to his game.
“Congratulations on the Rindo win,” said Kojima, moving to his side of the desk and leaning against it.
“Thanks,” he muttered, eyeing him suspiciously from the corner of his vision. The two men stared at each other in a brief moment of tense silence. He could tell Kojima was sizing him up from where he was sitting and he had a pretty good idea why he was doing it.
“...read the post-race interview,” he suddenly said, causing Katsuichi to groan.
“It wasn’t my idea.”
“And yet, you approve of it,” he countered and he hated how the man had an answer to everything he said.
“She’s my trainee,” he sighed, spinning in his chair to finally fully face his friend.
“Of course I’ll support her decision.”
“I didn’t say support,” he said with the quiet smugness that made his left eye twitch.
“I ever tell you how much I want to throw you out of a window?”
“It's only natural that a trainer supports his trainee’s goals. After all, that’s what you’re here for.”
“From the fifth story. Not even a window; a set of stairs would do.”
“But there is a difference between what you support and what you approve of.”
“Oh, thank you, Rationalisation Man! You have saved the city!”
“For example: you support people who want to live their lives the way they want to, but you don’t approve of veganism.”
“I can also neither support nor approve of things. Like your marriage.”
“Don’t be an ass,” chided Kojima softly with an exasperated look.
“I’m trying to be sincere here. I think Ace running the Triple Crown is wonderful and I both support and approve of it.”
“Why? Because you think you’ll have an easy win with C.B.?” he asked, letting the annoyance and irritation be felt in his voice and tone.
“Hey, your words, not mine,” shrugged Kojima.
“I’m glad you think so highly of my trainee. I mean, it's not like Ace is a bad runner.”
“I swear, I’ll break the glass if I have to,” said Katsuichi, pointing with his thumb to the window behind him.
“I mean that it’s a good thing for both of you,” clarified Kojima, his voice suddenly serious and gentle.
“Ace has a goal she can strive towards, while you have a chance to finally-”
“You’re getting mushy again, aren't you?” he asked with a grimace.
“Should I grab some ice cream and put on some chick flick to set the mood?”
“Fine, be that way,” sighed Kojima with a shake of his head before he decided to stare out the window instead of looking at him, much to his appreciation.
“Just know that it's one thing to declare for the Triple Crown. It's another thing to actually win it.”
“Oh, I have no delusions about that,” now it was Katsuichi’s turn to sigh.
“You think Ace does?”
“I don’t know what she thinks,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the coffee pot.
“I certainly don’t think that she thinks it will be easy. She was quite hesitant to give her answer to that reporter,” he said, pouring himself a mug.
“I just don’t know if she knows just how difficult it is to win a Classics race,” he added, pouring another for his friend.
“...I don’t mean to sound like an ass,” said Kojima and Katsuichi already knew what he was going to say.
“But you don’t either.”
He debated if he should pour the coffee on his head.
“Never climbed Everest either,” he decided to say instead, as he poured milk into his friend’s mug.
“Doesn’t mean that I don’t know that it’s difficult,” he added, handing him his coffee and going to stand by the window.
“Be that as it may,” sighed Kojima while he glared out the window and the students below, eyes subconsciously scanning for his trainee’s distinct dark mane. It was a routine at this point that had developed without his conscious effort or even intent, searching for Ace among the crowd even when he knew she wasn’t there. He knew her schedule by memory at this point, and he knew that she still had classes for at least another two hours.
And still, here he was searching for her.
“Experience is the best teacher, both for trainees and trainers alike,” he heard Kojima say.
“And you only get one chance at the Triple Crown.”
“I’m aware,” he said simply, because there was nothing more he could say. It was a harsh truth that an uma could only attempt the Classic Triple Crown once in her career.
He knew this fact all too well, but knowing didn’t make it sting any less. The margin for error here is practically non-existent.
“Just saying, don’t get your hopes up,” said Kojima before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Since when have I ever done that?” he asked, staring at this friend’s reflection in the glass.
“Fair enough,” shrugged Kojima, setting the mug down on the desk with a grimace.
“You make your coffee way too strong. Ever heard of a heart attack?”
“Or maybe you’re just weak,” he shrugged, taking his own sip.
“If nothing else, C.B. finally got motivated to train ever since she heard the news.”
“What, you want me to congratulate you for me doing your job for you?”
“Pretty sure it was Ace doing my job and not you,” he said smugly.
“That smugness of yours is quite an attractive quality,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Thank you. It was either that or get my highlights done,” said Kojima with a nod.
“Though, I have to mention that you still need to actually qualify for the Satsuki Sho. Ace is still short of some winnings.”
“Got that sorted out as well,” he said, nodding his head towards the whiteboard, where the words “Sansai Stakes, 27. 11.” were written in bold letters in the center of it.
“Jumping her up to Open Races?” asked Kojima, eyeing the whiteboard.
“Prize money is bigger,” answered Katsuichi, swirling the coffee in his hands.
“No doubt about that,” he shrugged before turning to his friend.
“Question is, is she ready for it?”
Katsuichi didn’t answer as he stared into his murky and wobbly reflection in his cup.
For that was a question he had been pondering as well.