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The park was quiet in the early morning. Mist hovered low over the paths, curling around the lampposts that still flickered faintly, and the faint scent of dew hung in the air. Oguri Cap’s lungs burned with each ragged breath as she slowed to a stop, hands on her knees, hair plastered to her face with sweat.
“Oguri!”
Symboli Rudolf was there, storming towards Oguri in long strides, her shadow falling over the other uma. Before Oguri could react, Rudolf grabbed her by the collar of her tracksuit, yanking her upright.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Rudolf barked, her voice sharp. “Do you have any idea of what you’re putting yourself through?!”
Her grip was harsh, fingers bunched tight in the fabric.
Oguri sucked in a sharp breath, startled, hands flying instinctively to Rudolf’s wrists. “R-Rudolf! I was just-”
“Running.” Rudolf’s grip tightened. “You were running. Pushing yourself. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”
Her eyes were sharp, blazing in the dim light, but there was something else there too — panic, thinly veiled beneath her fury. She shook Oguri, not violently, but enough to rattle her.
“You’re retired. Your body has limits now. Limits you know about. And yet here you are, sprinting through a park at dawn like nothing has changed!”
“I wasn’t sprinting,” Oguri protested weakly. “Just jogging.”
Rudolf’s eyes darkened. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
She released Oguri, only to jab a finger into her chest. “Your breathing is uneven. Your pulse is racing. You pushed yourself until you couldn’t even stand upright. That isn’t jogging. That is you chasing something you cannot have anymore.”
Oguri’s chest heaved, a mix of exhaustion and stubbornness keeping her from answering.
“I just...I needed to run. Just a little longer.”
Rudolf shook her head, her hands trembling slightly as she grabbed her shoulders and pulled Oguri close, so close their faces were inches apart.
“A little longer?” she spat, incredulous. “You never listen, do you? Even after everything, after the Arima Kinen that you won, you're still risking your body! Do you even care what could happen to you?”
Oguri swallowed hard, silence falling between them. She knew Rudolf was right, but the need to run was still stronger than fear.
Rudolf’s grip softened for a moment, but her voice grew quieter, more pleading. “I can’t lose you like this, Oguri. I won’t. I won't just watch you throw yourself into danger because you think running will fix something that’s already gone.”
Oguri’s eyes stung. “Rudolf...it's not like I’m going to die-”
Something in the other uma's eyes flashed dark.
“You don’t get it! You never get it!” Rudolf’s hands tightened on her tracksuit again, her frustration mingling with the tremor in her voice. “I’ve watched you run, lose, win, I’ve watched you tear yourself apart for glory you didn’t even need. And now, you’re still running? For what? For me to worry every damn day?”
The words echoed through the park, scattering a few birds from a nearby tree. Rudolf let go abruptly, stepping back like she’d burned herself, hands shaking at her sides.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like,” she continued, voice still frustrated but cracking at the edges, “to wake up every day knowing you should be resting and watch you chase ghosts?”
Oguri took a step toward her, hesitant as she searched for the right words. “Rudolf, running isn’t a ghost to me. It’s-”
“It’s killing you,” Rudolf snapped. “And you’re smiling through it like you always do.”
She pressed a hand to her own chest, fingers curling into her uniform. “I stood at the top of this sport. I made decisions that shaped the future of racing. And yet, I can't stop you from destroying yourself.”
Oguri’s eyes widened. “That’s not-”
“I watched you run with everything you had,” Rudolf went on, pacing now, her voice spilling out. “You ran until your shoes fell apart. You ran until your legs gave out. You ran until the country called you a monster and forgot you were a person.” She turned back sharply. “And now you’re doing it again, except there’s no finish line this time. There’s just-” She faltered, jaw tightening. “Just consequences.”
Rudolf laughed, the sound humorless and forced. She raked a hand through her hair. “Unbelievable. You retire from racing in front of the entire country three times, and this is what you do? Sneak out before dawn like nothing’s changed? Like your heart didn’t nearly give out on you?” Her voice rose, cracking with fury. “Do you think the doctors were exaggerating? Do you think I am?”
Oguri’s eyes fluttered shut and she exhaled, quiet and shaking. “If I stop...then it’s really over.”
Rudolf inhaled sharply, like the words had cut her open.
“It’s already over,” she said, too quickly. Rudolf turned away, her shoulders rigid. “Do you think I’m angry because you’re going against your recovery plans? Because you’re being reckless?" Her voice came quieter. "I’m angry because I know exactly why you’re doing this. Because I let it happen.”
Oguri blinked. “What...?”
Rudolf clenched her fists, her head hung low. For a moment, she felt unable to turn and meet Oguri's gaze. “I should have fought harder. I should have forced them to see you for what you were.”
Her voice trembled now, words spilling faster. “You weren’t just some countryside prodigy. You weren’t a novelty. You were strong enough to run in the Classics.” She turned back, eyes shining in the morning light. “And I stood there, letting myself be called the pinnacle of all umas, when I couldn’t even protect you from those rules that ended up bending in your favor now that you've retired.”
She made a sound somewhere between a sob and a breath. "People are calling it the Oguri Cap rule. Other umas...they're going to be able to race in the Classics because of you, did you know that?"
"I know," Oguri murmured. "That's good. I'm glad." Oguri's voice was soft, sincere, her head raising to meet Rudolf's gaze.
“And now,” Rudolf continued, voice faltering as her eyes met Oguri's, “now I see you sneaking out at dawn, pretending you’re still the same uma who could outrun time itself, and I- I can’t do this. I can’t watch you run yourself into the ground because you don’t know who you are without it.” She inhaled like she was bracing herself.
“You could have won the Triple Crown,” she whispered. “You, Oguri Cap. An uma from the countryside who outran her rivals despite their own strengths. And I-” Her voice broke. “I didn’t fight hard enough for you.”
Oguri’s chest ached, the words heavier than any fatigue.
“But if you keep running like this,” Rudolf continued, her voice raw, “you won’t just lose your ability to run. You’ll lose your life.” Her breath hitched. “I won’t survive watching that.”
Silence fell between them, heavy and trembling.
Oguri finally reached out, fingers brushing Rudolf’s sleeve.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Running is the only thing that ever made sense to me.”
Rudolf looked at her, and all the fight she had in her chest gave way, her anger dissolving into something achingly tender. “Then learn how to run differently,” she said softly. Her hand lifted, hesitant, resting against Oguri’s cheek.
For the first time since her retirement, Oguri didn’t feel the need to move forward.
Her hands tightened on Rudolf’s coat. “I don’t want to die,” she said quietly. “But I don’t know how to stop wanting to run.”
Rudolf pulled her into an embrace before she could think better of it, pressing Oguri’s head against her shoulder, holding her as if she might shatter.
“Then let me teach you,” Rudolf murmured, voice trembling against her hair. “Let me be the one who stops you when you can’t. Don’t run alone anymore.”
The mist thickened around them, dawn finally breaking over the park.