Work Text:
Tamamo heard the running before she saw her.
Not the clean, effortless rhythm she remembered—but it was still unmistakable. Long strides, familiar cadence, breath cutting sharply through the quiet afternoon air, mixing with the faint rustle of the grass around the track. The smell of dirt and sweat hung in the air, almost sweet in that way only a track could smell after hours of use.
Tamamo stopped at the edge of the track, ears flat against her head, eyes narrowing.
There she was.
Oguri Cap was running alone. Her tracksuit was already darkened by hours of exertion. Her form was still there, but the speed was wrong. Every step landed heavier than it should have, digging into the dirt instead of gliding over it. The track seemed to resist her, as if it didn’t want to let her pass. Dust kicked up around her feet, little puffs trailing each step.
Tamamo’s tail flicked nervously behind her.
She watched Oguri push through one more lap, jaw clenched, eyes locked forward. Her legs trembled slightly with each stride, ankles bending just a fraction too much, toes scraping the dirt. Sweat dripped from her chin and fell to the track, steaming slightly in the cool afternoon. She didn’t slow until she reached the middle of the field. When she finally stopped, it was abrupt—almost a stumble. Oguri bent forward, hands braced on her knees, chest heaving violently, shoulders quivering.
Then she straightened.
And smiled.
“I can still do it,” Oguri said aloud, voice rough but bright, rasping from the effort. “See? I’m still running.”
Before Tamamo could stop herself, she stepped onto the field.
The crunch of dirt under her shoes echoed, sharp and loud.
Oguri froze.
Then she turned.
For a split second, her eyes went wide—then lit up completely.
“Tama?!”
She didn’t hesitate.
Before Tamamo could blink, Oguri closed the distance in uneven, trembling strides and slammed into her, arms wrapping tight around Tamamo’s torso. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and Tamamo could feel every pulse in Oguri’s body, the frantic heartbeat echoing in her chest, tail twitching frantically behind her.
“You’re back!” Oguri said, voice suddenly loud and full, almost laughing. “You’re really back!”
She hugged her harder, cheek pressed against Tamamo’s shoulder, tail swishing uncontrollably behind her. The smell of sweat and dirt clung to her, but she didn’t care. Her grip was firm like she was afraid if she let go, Tamamo would disappear again.
Tamamo blinked, stunned.
“Oi—Ogurin—” she started, then sighed and wrapped her arms around her anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.”
Oguri pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes shining, breath coming fast and short. “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve—I mean, I—”
She laughed, breathless, then hugged her again, squeezing even tighter.
“I missed you,” Oguri said without hesitation, voice cracking slightly.
Tamamo felt something twist painfully in her chest.
“…you’re squeezin’ the life outta me,” she muttered, though she didn’t push her away.
Oguri finally let go, stepping back—but only barely. She was still too close, rocking slightly on her heels, energy buzzing through her like she’d just won a race.
“When did you get back?” Oguri asked. “Are you staying? You look—you look good. Did you eat? Are you tired?”
Her words tumbled over each other, fast and bright, spilling out in uneven breaths.
Tamamo opened her mouth, then closed it again, eyes flicking over Oguri’s trembling legs, the dirt smeared across her knees, the way her tail twitched with nervous energy.
“…slow down,” Tamamo said gently. “You’re shakin’.”
Oguri blinked, then laughed it off, waving her hands as if to dismiss the warning. “Oh. Yeah. I just finished runnin’.”
She gestured proudly toward the track. “Three laps.”
Tamamo’s ears flattened again.
“So?” she asked quietly.
Oguri straightened, chest lifting. “So that means I can still run.”
There it was again—that brightness. That eagerness. Like a kid showing off a scraped knee and calling it proof they were fine. Her tail flicked excitedly, ears forward, and for a moment, she looked unstoppable.
“I’m slower,” Oguri admitted quickly, waving a hand, voice trembling just a little. “I know that. I can feel it. But I didn’t stop. I’m still moving. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
She took a step forward, almost bouncing on her toes, sweat glistening along her jawline.
“I mean, you’re back, so I wanted to—”
Her knee buckled.
Tamamo lunged forward, grabbing her arm before she could fall. Oguri sucked in a sharp breath, surprise flickering across her face.
“…damn it,” Tamamo muttered. “You okay?”
“Yeah!” Oguri said immediately. Too fast. “I’m fine. I just—I overdid it a little.”
Tamamo didn’t let go.
Oguri glanced down at Tamamo’s grip, then back up at her face. Slowly, the excited edge in her expression dulled just a little.
“I can still run,” Oguri said again, quieter now. “It just feels… heavier. Like the ground’s grabbing me. But it’s fine. I’ll get used to it.”
Her smile wavered, fingers twitching slightly.
“I didn’t wanna miss you… I wanted you to see me run.”
”So that I can run with you again when you get back.” she added softly.
Tamamo’s chest tightened.
“…Ogurin,” she said carefully. “You gotta rest.”
The word hit wrong.
Oguri went still.
“…rest?” she repeated, confusion flickering across her face.
Tamamo nodded once. “You’re pushin’ too hard. You’re hurt.”
Oguri stared at her.
Then she laughed—sharp and brittle, nothing like before.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “So even you think it.”
“That ain’t what I meant—”
“You retired,” Oguri cut in suddenly, voice cracking. “You stopped running. You left.”
Tamamo froze.
“And you were okay,” Oguri continued, breathing faster now. “So everyone thinks stopping is fine. Like it’s not the end.”
She shook her head violently. “But I can’t. I can’t be like that. Running is all I have.”
She yanked her arm free.
“I’ll prove you wrong,” Oguri said desperately. “I’ll show you. I can still do it.”
She turned and ran.
Not fast.
Desperate.
Her stride was uneven, raw effort replacing instinct. Every step looked painful, but she didn’t slow. Didn’t look back.
“Ogurin!” Tamamo shouted. “Stop!”
Oguri didn’t.
Halfway down the track, she tripped.
She hit the dirt hard, palms scraping, knees slamming down. She stayed there, curled forward, breath breaking apart into sobs.
“I can still run,” she cried. “I can—I can—”
Her voice collapsed.
Tamamo was beside her in seconds, dropping to her knees and pulling her into her arms. Oguri broke immediately, clutching her jacket like she’d lose her otherwise.
“If I can’t run,” Oguri sobbed, “then I’m nothing.”
Tamamo held her tight, letting her shake. “…you ain’t nothing,” she whispered. “You’re still Ogurin. Always.”
Oguri hiccupped, burying her face against Tamamo’s shoulder. “I’m scared.”
“Yeah,” Tamamo said softly. “I know.”
They stayed there longer than either of them realized.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the torn-up track. Oguri’s breathing slowly evened out, though every so often her fingers would twitch, tightening in Tamamo’s jacket like she was afraid of letting go.
Tamamo adjusted her grip, careful and steady, one hand resting firmly between Oguri’s shoulder blades. She didn’t rush her. Didn’t tell her to stand. Didn’t tell her to be strong.
For once, she let the silence do the work.
“…Tama,” Oguri murmured after a while, voice hoarse and small.
“Yeah?” Tamamo answered immediately.
Oguri hesitated. Her ears drooped slightly. “If… if I can’t run for a long time…”
Tamamo waited.
“…will you still stay?” Oguri asked.
Tamamo exhaled slowly, then tightened her hold just a bit.
“I came all this way back, didn’t I?” she said quietly. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy.”
Oguri let out a shaky breath that was almost a laugh. She leaned into Tamamo’s chest, exhaustion finally winning over panic.
“…okay,” she whispered.
__________
The stadium was still loud somewhere far away.
Even after the race was over, even after the cheers had peaked and begun to blur together into a dull roar, Oguri Cap could still feel the vibration of it in her bones. Her chest rose and fell hard, lungs burning—not in pain this time, but in that familiar, aching fullness she’d missed so badly it scared her.
She’d done it.
She stood near the edge of the track now, hands braced on her thighs, sweat dripping from her chin onto the ground. Her legs shook—not from weakness, not from fear—but from everything crashing down at once.
First place.
One last time.
She laughed softly, breathless, almost disbelieving. “I really… ran.”
“Oi.”
Oguri looked up.
Tamamo Cross stood a few steps away, arms crossed, ears flicking, eyes fixed on her like she was making sure Oguri was actually still there.
“…Tama,” Oguri said.
Before Tamamo could say anything else, Oguri crossed the distance and hugged her—hard. Arms wrapped tight around her shoulders, face buried against her collarbone, just like before, except this time Oguri’s body was warm with motion instead of shaking with fear.
“I did it,” Oguri said into her shoulder, laughing and crying at the same time. “I ran. I really ran.”
Tamamo froze for half a second.
Then she hugged her back.
“…yeah,” she murmured. “I saw.”
Oguri pulled back, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, hair sticking to her face with sweat. She looked exhausted.
She looked alive.
“Did you see the last stretch?” Oguri asked eagerly. “I thought my legs were gonna give out, but they didn’t. I just kept thinkin’—one more step, one more—”
Tamamo reached up and gently pressed two fingers to Oguri’s forehead.
“Easy,” she said. “You’re gonna pass out.”
Oguri laughed. “Sorry.”
They stood there, still holding onto each other, as the noise faded around them.
“…I was scared,” Oguri admitted quietly. “Right before the start.”
Tamamo’s grip tightened.
“But when I ran,” Oguri continued, eyes drifting back toward the track, “it felt right. Even knowing it was the end.”
She looked back at Tamamo. “I think that’s why I won.”
Tamamo studied her, then nodded.
“…you reminded me why I ran in the first place,” she said softly.
Oguri’s chest tightened.
“I thought I’d feel empty,” Oguri admitted. “But I don’t.”
Tamamo smiled faintly. “Good.”
Oguri leaned forward and rested her forehead against Tamamo’s shoulder.
“…thank you,” she whispered. “for staying… for not giving up on me.”
The track lay quiet now, scuffed and worn.
Oguri Cap had run her last race.
She had won.