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Seiun Sky was lost. And she reeked of salt and fish guts and mildew.
After a Classic year defined by the collection of not one, but two, of Japan’s esteemed Triple Crown leg, she had slowed down ever since her 3rd place finish at the Arima Kinen. Analysts and professionals alike attribute it to the rest of the top level Umamusume catching up to her—competitors like Special Week, King Halo, and Grass Wonder—physically, while Seiun Sky’s legs were fast enough to keep up with the fastest of them,she would burn out right at the final straight or corner. And mentally? After the Takarazuka Kinen, reporters noted the slightly heated exchange she had with King Halo. “It’s just so played out,” she muttered. And for once the Trickster of the Track glimpsed a shed of the frustration laden in those crystalline eyes; the storms within the aquamarine. So much so that she had refused any and all interviews and instead left the track the instant the race was over. It had been that kind of stretch for her. While she may have at least placed Top 3 in the Takarazuka Kinen, the Spring Tenno Sho, and the Arima Kinen, any true competitors will understand—silver, and bronze, are not enough. They’re never enough.
“Well, you know~ At this level of competition,” said Seiun Sky, in an post-race interview after her 3rd place finish in the Japanese Derby, “no one who is top 3 is aiming for top 3. They want to get first. I want to get first.”
Most competitors at this would hit the gym and the track and run as far as the muscles in their bones were willing to take them. The Trickster, however, opted to avoid training entirely. Instead, a few days after the Takarazuka Kinen, she opted to go on a trip to fish on the waters of coastal Japan, without informing either the public, or the staff of Tracen, or her Trainer, of this sudden ‘vacation’. It was a decision that sparked outrage among professionals and fans alike. Word on the street was that Seiun Sky—was soft, a choker, who cared little about actually winning, and her recent string of losses only fanned the flames of these claims even further. Others were convinced that she was some apart of some sort of elaborate gambling scandal.
“I can’t really blame them for thinking that,” said Seiun, on an interview she did after the trip. “Not the gambling part. Those guys are just addicts, hehe. But I was thinking—maybe I don’t have in it me anymore. Under the starry night, surrounded by the crash of the waves and the swirl of the sand singing alongside it, I thought—with a bitter laugh—’this is really how it ends, isn’t it? Not with a bang, but a whimper.’ Retirement was a serious option to me.”
That was one of the two reasons she had for going on this trip instead of training. She was considering her future in racing. They were so many other fish in the sea—bigger, stronger, and faster than Seiun Sky. She had her time in the limelight. The second reason was the fact that she wanted to stop thinking about racing. Funny how that works, isn’t it? She failed in both regards. Racing was still on her mind, nor did she catch a real answer for what her future had in store; no bites that night either. A failure of a night. But Seiun Sky was never really supposed to succeed either. ‘I’m just so… played out,’ she thought. Early on into her career, low expectations, they defined her—she enjoyed breaking the idea of Seiun Sky, of the lazy, good-for-nothing, training skipper Seiun Sky. Yet those were the expectations she had set, by acting like a cloud drifting through the sky.
It was different now though. The accolades, they were hers, and she had proven them wrong. But now with the expectation she was going to win—she needed to prove them right, the fans and her friends, most of all, her trainer. That, was far more difficult.
But for the interview’s sake, she left all of this out, and she instead went on to tell a story.
“Damn it.” Seiun Sky threw the rod toward the ground and the steel groaned and whined against the sand. “I can’t even fish right.” The waves crashed into her legs; they did little to ease the sore of her ankles, nor did the cool handle of her now dripping and dirty fishing rod. But she tossed the bobber back into the ocean, and waited. What came were not bites, but steps, and though they were muted by the sand, to her ears, which had been accustomed to water and seagulls and string—it froze her.
“No luck today,” said her trainer. They tilted their head towards the empty bucket.
“Eh? How’d you know I was here, Trainer? I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here.”
“We’ve been working for together for 2 and a half years. I’d like to think I’m at somewhat familiar with most, if not all of your tricks.”
She scratched at her chin, before she shifted her focus back to the waters. “I got a lot of tricks up my sleeves. You haven’t even seen the half of them,” she proclaimed. Soon, her trainer was right beside her, and together the two spent the next few minutes chatting about the most mundane things. She spoke of the new model of fishing rod she was eyeing, and also of the bait that the summertime fish seemed to not be fond of.
“The bait’s fine, I think. Most fish are fond enough of squid; I think it’s just bad luck. Some things are just out of our control.”
She stared at the line which had stilled for over five minutes now—it was getting real late into the night at this point, but she didn’t want to leave without any fish caught. Or so she told herself. “Yeah. You’re right. Maybe I’ve just hit the limit. After all, I’ve been fishing in the same spot for a while now. They’ve probably learned to recognize not just the lure, but also my yawns—I’m just so… played out.”
“Is that so?” Their response came immediately. In her mind she questioned whether or not they even put any thought into it; her lips parted, and yet it was the waves, who had gone from their battering of the sand into a softer, smoother swish, that had spoken for her at first. “You don’t seem convinced,” they said, “I guess… I’ll just have to show you.” And so they dove into the water—hold on, what do you mean they dove into the water—yes, they dove in, clothes and all.
Seiun’s jaw hung open. “What in the world has gotten into to you, Trainer?” She took a tentative step towards the water and she was about to drop the fishing rod too, had they not held up their hand, and gestured for her to halt.
“Stay focused. I’m gonna lead the fish to the lure.”
Looks like they had their own tricks too; it was almost admirable, how misguided the idea was, but Seiun tightened her grip on the fishing rod and she watched as they swam around the water until— “Got one,” said Seiun, and she pulled and tugged until she was able to yank the fish out of the water. “I… got one. I got one! I got a sardine.” She was far from shattering any records with it for sardines known for their size, but, it was a victory. A small victory.
Seiun’s trainer crawled out of the water and their clothes were sopping wet at this point; their hand rested on their knees as they sat on the sand, catching their breath. “See? You got something. I know you’ve only been catching defeats recently, but that doesn’t mean that you still can’t catch victories—tiny, gigantic, or what have you.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “That’s sweet and all, but you are soaked in salt water right now.”
“That’s besides the point.”
“Alright, alright~ I’ll go along with you.”
---
“And that’s how I decided to return to racing,” said Seiun Sky, who was sat in a comfortable plush chair with a microphone pointed straight towards her mouth.
The reporter couldn’t help but laugh. “Your trainer sounds like a silly, if not dedicated person,” they said, to which Seiun Sky shrugged, and nodded.
“Yeah. They’ve helped me a lot. I definitely couldn’t have made it this far without them. I hope you’re watching, Trainer—I still owe you a new suit.”
The reporter and the camera crew let out a laugh. “Thank you for your time, Seiun Sky,” said the reporter, “and congratulations again on your past two victories. We can’t wait to see you in the URA Finale.” So they let Seiun go, and she left the studio and began the walk back to Tracen.
Truth be told, if their trainer was watching, then they definitely would’ve known—that wasn’t how it went, not at all. The beginning was true enough; they really did dive into the water like an idiot and not even a washing machine built by Tachyon could clean off the sand and the dried mackerel now in the fabrics—the ending was what she decided to embellish. Seiun Sky was not good at the sappy stuff. But she most certainly did not forget what actually happened; she still thought about it sometimes, each time she hesitated to cast the line into the waters.
“…And here I thought I had you figured out,” was what she actually said, and she did smile, but it was less out of glee, more… strained. “I’m still scared,” she admitted, “scared that I won’t be able to weather the storm. My wits can only take me so far, as you’ve already seen. What if I fail? What if everyone was right about me all along—right about the fact that all I do is nap, and skip, and fish? If I run the next race and I lose, then it just confirms all my worst fears. That I peaked too early. And now the world is leaving me behind.” Her eyes tasted salt, or maybe bitter. But regardless she raised her hands and rubbed the tears off her face the best that she could.
Seiun’s trainer bit on their thumb, with the other arm wrapped around his stomach, to shield against the breeze blowing through the night. “When you arrived to the beach,” they began, “and you caught no fish, just seaweed, and string, what did you do?”
“Uh…? I casted my fishing rod again.”
“Right. And why did you do that?”
“I wanted the chance to catch an actual fish, and maybe cook, and eat it, for later.”
“You casted your fishing rod back into the waters because you wanted another chance. Do you think you could’ve caught a fish if you didn’t throw the line back in there?” She shook her head. “Exactly—you won’t know if you score a catch if you never even try. Who’s to say that you won’t reel in another fish, another big one—a victory? And I’ll help you with that too. I’ll swim the whole ocean if it means you get to catch another one. I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but, I promise to try—I just need you to try with me. And who knows? Maybe we’ll break the limits.”
Seiun Sky drew air through her nose, short, and sharp, intakes of breath, and it was like she was back on the turf again. “Thank you, Trainer—I need some time to think things through. But… thank you, seriously.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
“You should really dry off. It’s freezing out here, you know,” said Seiun Sky, and her face regained a little bit of its color, “and get a shower, too—you smell like the sea.”
“A little rich coming from you.”
“Nyahaha~ I know.”
And so in the middle of the ocean, in a storm she didn’t know if she could make it out of, was a lifeboat. She didn’t find it—it always had been there, but now she took the hand and climbed into the boat. And together they sailed; those two that reeked of salt, fish guts, and mildew. Seiun Sky found herself once more.