Chapter Text
With bags of cheap groceries in hand, Daiwa Scarlet jogs her way down the street, at the pace of your average human. It’s almost time for dinner, and if she doesn’t get home soon, a certain lab rat was going to starve herself to death. Again. Still, it’s a blissfully sunny day, and Scarlet feels her mood go up for the first time in a long while. She decides to make a pit stop at a nearby Lawson’s to see if they have any sweet bread on sale or maybe even a new collab menu! She always did love when they feature cute animal mascots.
What she spots instead sends her mood crashing straight down.
It’s a cover of Vodka and another uma, under the title of ‘Ireland’s newest power couple? Hometown Legend Sea the Stars spotted having candlelit dinner with 7 Times Japanese Champion Tanino Vodka!’
…what? Maybe her eyes have finally given up the ghost. She did get dirt in them that one time all those years ago. …Nope, still there. Still Vodka.
She almost wanted to yell at the magazine on principle, Vodka’s dumb little face making her feel flustered and frustrated and furious all over. The only thing stopping her from making a fool of herself in front of the Lawson’s was the sudden chill that ran down her spine as her brain finally started running.
Vodka? The same Vodka who nearly died from watching a romcom? She really shouldn’t be taking this so seriously. These gossip rags have been shipping uma athletes for decades now, from Symboli Rudolph / Air Groove to Vodka / Daiwa Sca-!
With the sudden speed of an end chaser, she bursts into the Lawson’s with a copy in hand, praying the part timer doesn’t recognize her in spite of the ears and the tail and the burning red eyes and the literal ad starring Daiwa Scarlet behind the counter.
He does.
She runs for it.
…
She looks back.
The look of pity almost makes her want to run back and chuck the stolen magazine at his face, just to prove that ‘No! Daiwa Scarlet is not some heartbroken girl who got left behind by her globe-trotting rival!”
That would imply Vodka had broken her heart.
Truth is, she had broken Vodka’s heart first.
“I’m going to beat you fair and square in Dubai, so you better be ready by then! You hear me?” encouraged Vodka.
So loud as always. She’d never admit it, but she loves that about Vodka. Never a dull day with her.
“As if! I’d still beat you with one leg tied behind my back!” rebuked Daiwa Scarlet.
“Oh yeah?! I could beat you with two legs tied behind my back!”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Yeah, wel-!” With a tap by a passing nurse, Vodka is given a gentle reminder she’s in the hospital yelling at a patient. With a blush, she mumbles an apology and leaves, but not before giving one last goodbye to the bedridden uma.
It’s weird seeing her be so gentle, but to be fair, it’s not everyday that one’s rival gets hospitalized. Honestly, she’s just frustrated it had to happen during her last year at Tracen. She and Vodka had been training for a spring semester in Dubai when she felt something off about her leg. A sprained tendon, the doctor had said. Nothing that bad, honestly. Though why they felt suddenly the need to keep her overnight confused her. She’d gotten dirt in her eye and even broke her leg just last year! Compared to that, this was nothing. Right?
The look on her trainer’s face said otherwise, as he walked in alongside Agn- DAD?!
Agnes Tachyon hobbles in with tears in her eyes, a sight so utterly bizarre Scarlet leaps out of bed to hug her dad, half to comfort her and half to confirm that this wasn’t a belated hallucination from some sort of secret experiment. They collapse together on the floor, their collective 4 legs unable to bear their emotional and physical weight.
“What’s going on? Why are you crying?!”
“I knew there would be a high probability of this happening. Yet I choose to be selfish by having you. I had hoped to beat the odds.”
What?
“My legs. My accursed legs. Forgive me, Scarlet.”
Oh. Oh no. Daddy didn’t raise no fool. She raised a number one mind, and that mind was currently having a horrific epiphany. The apologetic face on her trainer was of little comfort compared to her dad’s.
“I’m really sorry, kid, but you’re gonna want to take a look at these results.”
The official story is that Daiwa Scarlet is stepping back from the spotlight and taking an indefinite hiatus, in order to recover from an unspecified medical condition. That’s the line they feed to the press.
Anyone who knows anything about uma racing can read between the lines. Daiwa Scarlet is out of the game. For good.
She’s lucky, she supposes. Her dad Agnes Tachyon retired after just 4 races. She herself got to race 3 times as long at 12 major races and 8 graded wins, in spite of her lineage. She wouldn’t even be the first among her generation to bow out early over medical concerns. That still didn’t make her feel any better. She was born to be number one. To be a legend. To run! She’d be running right now, damn the consequences, if not for her dad. Probably the only person who could consistently out-stubborn her.
Her trainer seemed shocked she didn’t spend the first night screaming at him to give her a second chance. But then watching your dad break their own leg repeatedly during your childhood in an effort to surpass all of uma biology tends to have a sobering effect on one’s own prospects. However belated.
The real cruel irony is that the nature of her newfound disability means she gets to return to campus the morning after they finalize her ‘hiatus’. She’s fine, after all.
She won’t be fine if she races again.
Tracen Academy knows the truth. Nevertheless, they allow her to graduate with full honors. Allow her to attend class, wear their uniform, sleep in their dorms. Ms. Tazuna gives her a sad smile as she privately explains what happens to racing umas who become injured or disabled during their tenure. What happened to her father all those years ago. She hates it. But the idea of leaving without a trace burns even worse in her mind. So she endures.
But the thing she hates the most? Everyone at school knows. They’re all her fellow uma athletes, after all. They know the real difference between a ‘break’ and an ‘indefinite hiatus’, can see past the PR language coached and shaped by the trainers and movers of the JRA. They look at her with pity. They shape their own little narrative, whispers shared and rumors told freely. From Miss Perfect the rising star, to the second coming of the Phantom Triple Crown. Success stories are dime a dozen, after all. But tragedies? Who doesn’t love a good sob story, especially if it has foreshadowing and a cruel twist ending? If anything, the outpour of support and love from her supporters drives her more furious.
Was this to become her legacy? Were all her efforts to become number one all for nothing?! Will the world only remember her as nothing more than a repeat of her dad, never mind her own 3 long years of racing and near-perfect racing record?! (Sorry dad) In those long and lauded hallways of Tracen academy, it’s all she sees. It’s all she hears. It’s all she feels. The urge to bite everyone’s head off for staring at her funny is tempered only by her more stubborn desire to salvage her school standing. She’s an honor student, after all. The last thing she wants to do is feed the rumors and ends what little remains of her title as Miss Perfect. The only saving grace is that Vodka will be gone for the spring, off racing in Dubai. Some peace and quiet while she plans out her remaining year here.
“I’m staying,” says the remaining Vodka.
what “Why?”
“…Aughhh! Don’t make me say it outloud!”
what?
“There’s no point in racing in Dubai if you’re not there with me!”
…
“C-C-Cause you’re my… rival! And that’s what a good rival does!”
Don’t you dare pity me.
“Besides, there’s plenty of races left in Japan I need to conquer first! Like the Japan Cup! I’ll be telling my trainer after lunch, but I wanted you to be the first, hah, to know.” Vodka finishes with a tint on her cheeks.
Don’t. You. Dare.
“…Scarlet?” proceeds to run gently jog her way out of the room. Vodka’s too embarrassed to give chase. She’s yet to realize Daiwa isn’t embarrassed.
She’s despairing.
She thought she already hit rock bottom when she got the news about her condition. Turns out there was a new low she could go. The last thing she wants to be is a burden. That’s not the proper place for a number one uma. She refuses to be number one on virtue of her rival giving up her own ambition over misguided affection.
The guilt drowns out the despair. And adrenaline drowns out the both of them. Her mind races for an answer, skipping all her morning classes as she kickstarts her brain by running a-"Ack! Ms. Tazuna?!”
Ugh. By ‘gently’ jogging around the track under the sudden supervision of a brutal yet sympathetic Tazuna. Then, the answer comes to her. She slams into their shared dorm room before lunch even begins and shouts, “You’re making a mockery of me!”
“Huh?! What’s that suppose to mean?!” exclaims Vodka as she jumps up from the midst of her unpacked luggage.
“Your refusal to go to overseas cause of my retirement is stupid, like your face!”
“Hey! I’m trying to be supportive! And my face is not stupi-!”
“You know what would make me happy?!”
“Tell me, princess!”
“Go to Dubai and win! That way, I can secure my reputation!”
“…Huh?”
“As the one who managed to beat an international star. Twice.”
“…”
“Make me the number one rival in the world by becoming number one yourself!”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“HUH?!”
“And I’m all in on it!”
“HUH!?!”
“Just watch me, Scarlet! I’ll become the coolest uma ever and make you the coolest rival by association!”
… Well, that worked better than she had hoped.
From the peace and quiet of her half-empty dorm room, Scarlet stares down at her overturned laptop. It’s 2PM in the Middle East, just in time for Vodka’s 2nd foray at an international ranking. The other girls are watching it in the cafeteria, as the time difference aligns perfectly with dinner.
Scarlet isn’t hungry.
In another life, she envisions herself down in the dusty deserts of Dubai, indulging her stomach with a light lunch and a sweet drink on a shady balcony. It’ll be just before the ceremony starts, as she works out her pre-race jitters. She’ll feel as light as the sand caught on the wind. The ceremony would soon begin. And with it, the countdown to the first race of the day. It'll start by lining up at the gate. Racing her heart out alongside Vodka. Finally settling the score between the two of them. Proving who’s the best uma of their generation once and for all! There’s no other path she would have taken, if she’d the chance. But she no longer gets a choice in the matter.
It hurts too much to watch it live, no matter how supportive she wants to be. Her eyes burn. But when she closes them to stomp out the tears, all she can see in the void is what could have been. What should have been. It’s too soon, far too soon for her to reconcile her past with her reality.
She chooses sleep instead. She lies down in Vodka’s bed, the stupid motorcycle posters and stupid camo blanket providing enough change of scenery that she can forget, for just a moment, that she’s a former racer staying in a Tracen dorm room she doesn’t deserve anymore.
She looks up the results days later, as a courtesy. Just in case Vodka asks if she saw it. As a good rival should. Vodka placed 5th and 7th for her two oversea races. In the reels, she appears to be apologetic and even a bit pathetic as she stumbles into the crowd after crossing the finish line. Strange. This isn’t the first time she lost a race. So why the long face?
Vodka returns a hero nonetheless. A 4 time local champion taking on the world stage is always a story worth rooting for. But the fans are greeted not with bluster or blushes, but with bitterness. She seems uncaring that she’s leaving behind an ‘uncool’ impression for the cameras. She’s heard whispering “one lame rival” under her breath when she thinks the reporters have disappeared.
Scarlet, however, gets hit by a full-blown broadside as Vodka suddenly pulls a 180 in mood and boldly declares she’ll make her proud to be her rival in the airport lobby. The cameras flash from afar, and reporters swarm them once more. Once again, their ‘rivalry’ hits the front page of all the trashy gossip journals. It thankfully drowns out news of Vodka’s otherwise lackadaisical arrival. Emboldened under the maddening title ‘Vodka Declares Publicly Her Intent for Daiwa Scarlet’, Scarlet’s smile is tainted with barely visible rage.
Because they’re no longer racing together, it becomes disturbingly easy to avoid Vodka during the day. She knows it’s rude of her to do so, and she can feel a growing ache in her heart as she spends more and more days without that loudmouth by her side. But well… Watching Vodka running by herself from the sidelines hurts way more. There, her heart turns from an ache to a void, like someone craved it out with a ritual knife. And if someone else dares approach the lonesome Vodka, like that otherworldly Red Desire? She can feel her head burst as her blood screams at 200 BPM for her to right this wrong and establish her dominance.
She knows it’s improper to be jealous. She no longer holds any claim to the title of Vodka’s rival anymore. There are plenty of up-and-coming umas who could and should give Vodka a run for her money. Even during her own time, Aston Machan had been a strong third rival in her own right. But this cold logic does little to assuage her. Plus, it’s not just wannabe rivals who keep approaching Vodka on the track. Fangirls have been popping up all over the place like the aforementioned Red Desire, especially after she proved the Dubai loss was a fluke by utterly dominating the Victoria Mile and Yatsuda Kinen in quick succession. They are utterly smitten by Vodka’s cool persona, especially since Scarlet isn’t around to scare them off and/or provoke Vodka into another ugly screaming match. Once, someone even presents a love letter, which Vodka takes cooly, not a hint of blood on her face. She has half a mind to chase them all off by screaming at Vodka then and there. She turns tail instead.
She just can’t stand it anymore! And honestly, Vodka’s hardly any better herself, training herself ragged like a mad bull, from morning to night. All to win the Japan Cup at the end of the year, Japan’s most renowned international race. She knows it’s something Vodka had been aiming for since their first year together. But now she seems like an uma possessed. This went beyond mere prestige. There’s a burning in those golden eyes, visible to all. But for whatever reason? She hasn’t a clue. And Vodka keeps clamming up every time she asks. She blushes and blunders and even has a nosebleed once or twice. The only consistency is that she’ll ‘make her the number one rival in the world!’
Guess she’s still hung up on what she said earlier this year? It was honestly just a spur of the moment comment to get her out of the room for the month. Well, the Japan Cup is a legendary race after all. The one where Umas from all over the world come to compete in. It fits the criteria, she supposes. Honestly, all she wants is to join the race together. But a race of that caliber would likely leave her hobbling for life. Possibly.
Argh!!!! She can feel the rage seep in at her own helplessness. She can’t stand watching by the sidelines anymore. Even just watching Vodka come into their dorm room alone after a long hard day of training is enough to drive her increasingly to her breaking point, and it’s barely been a month since Vodka returned from overseas. This newfound status quo cannot last. It’s clear she wants to run. Needs to run. Must run. And she knows exactly the uma for the job.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Bre- Ack. She tries to muffle the groan, but it’s too late.
“Lower the speed to 10 km/h. Maintain it for 3 minutes before stopping,” a steely voice interjects.
No! She can do it! She just needs. To. Run!
A tap on the side of the treadmill draws her attention. It’s her father, Agnes Tachyon, threatening to whack her with her cane if she doesn’t calm down this instance. Being the daddy’s girl she is, she ultimately complies. Frantic lab assistants rush in to clean up the place, while the lab head herself escorts her out, sheets of incomprehensible data in hand.
“Come with me to my office. We can go over the results together.” It’s a formality. They both know the results. No amount of guts or wits was ever going to revive her career, if her father’s cane-assisted hobble had anything to say about it. Still, she supposes it is in her very blood to at least try to overcome this unending nightmare. Her father is surprised only by how long it took for Scarlet to come a-knocking and beg her to keep this secret from her trainer.
It’s in their nature to want to run, no matter the painful reality. Like father, like daughter.
In the privacy of this cramped mess of an office at the end of the hallway, she can feel a tension rise within herself. Her father, sensing an impending meltdown, heads it off with a non-sequitur.
“Your hair is a mess. Come sit down with me,” Tachyon says, stealing a hairbrush from Scarlet’s purse.
Like you’re one to talk, dad. The only reason my own hair is this long was cause you were too lazy to go to the barber yourself!
With a halfhearted grumble, she takes a seat. It has been a while since she had someone else brush her hair for her. It’s… She can feel the tension leaving her. She closes her eyes and just leans back. Her father responds with a surprising amount of grace afforded only to explosive concoctions. She can feel herself slowly falling asleep, when suddenly a chorus of rock music erupts from the side. She doesn’t even need to open her eyes to know it’s Vodka, calling from summer camp. Scarlet blindly reaches for the phone, mutes the call, and tosses it back on the desk. She can feel her father smirk from behind, heralded by a hum that promised provocation.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m alright…”
“If you say so… That young rival of yours. Vodka, was it? How has she been?”
Ugh. Not even in her father’s embrace was she safe from Vodka’s burgeoning stardom. “She’s fine. I’m fairly certain her trainer still has a restraining order out on you however.”
“It was just one experiment. How was I to know her nose was absurdly weak and prone to leakage…” grumbled an unrepentant Tachyon. “That is irrelevant information. What I need to confirm is whether you and Vodka have been keeping in touch.”
Is this going to end up in another paper on the behavior of umas or something? “She’s busy training for the Japan Cup. I… don’t want to bother her.”
“The Japan Cup…” Tachyon’s eyes cloud over for a moment. Only her decade of experience as a caring father keeps the brush from catching onto any snags while she retreats to her mind palace.
Scarlet is patient. It is not her first time dealing with her father’s episodes. Though those are usually filled with the sounds of pen on paper and screams of “Eureka!” Scarlet concludes her bright red hair does not contain the secret of the universe. She is grateful, as she’d still like to keep her hair, thank you very much.
Tachyon blinks, and suddenly those red eyes burn brighter than ever. “This Vodka girl. From all the evidence, I can conclude that she’s a rather lively young uma. Outgoing. Stubborn. Tomboyish, yet emotionally intelligent. Am I to presume she pesters you with grand declarations of your undying rivalry even after your retirement?”
“What? How do you know that?” Scarlet is certain her father had never seen her and Vodka off the track together. Yet she has their dynamic down to a tee.
“It is a behavioral uma dynamic so common I have seen it cited in leading scientific journals.” Well, that’s kind of creepy.
“A variable like her is important. Essential, in the hectic yet fragile life of a growing uma. She nudges you to be your best self, via friendly competition, and acts as a catalyst for your emotions, leaving behind increased levels of adrenaline, dopamine, and in some cases oxytocin.” Leave it to her father to break down a friendship into chemicals and equations. She still finds herself blushing from the implications of that last sentence. Damn those embarrassing biology lessons! She makes to retort, when suddenly-
“I had my own rival, once. I left her waiting for an answer for far too long.” The teasing mad scientist is gone. In its place is a deeply vulnerable woman.
“While replication is one of the most essential pillars of modern science, this is one experiment I do not wish to see repeated.” The hairbrush sputters to a halt. Scarlet turns around in her seat to give her father a hug. It is accepted. “I do not desire for you to follow in my footsteps, Scarlet. You are not a guinea pig. You are my daughter, and I wish for you to learn from the mistakes of the past and stand proud on the shoulders of giants.”
With a weary sigh that sends shivers down both their spines, Tachyon lets go of the last of her emotions. She can feel every bit of regret and sorrow escape her lungs and leave her wanting. She flaps her sleeves on Scarlet’s shoulders, like the world’s softest drum kit. They envelop her like a gentle flame at the edges of her vision. With an audible creak, her father turns her head to the old coffee machine in the corner of the office.
Pristine. Well-loved. Empty. Abandoned. On top lie three black hair clips. Warped from long use. A silver ear ring. Fitted to a person who has long since walked away.
All Scarlet knows is that she has never seen anyone use that machine. Tachyon nearly bit the head off the last intern who even dared to do so.
With a forced coldness, Tachyon makes herself clear. No teasing. No jargon. Just her final conclusion. “Do not take your friends for granted. It’s easy to lose yourself in dreams of what should have been. Do not allow them to take what could still be.”
The Japan Cup. Vodka’s final race of the year.
From the grandstand, the crowd goes wild. Scarlet stands just a little bit lower, right besides the other trainers and Tracen’s support staff. Reporters and news outlets stand ready to capture every moment live. It feels deeply uncanny to be here, and not down on the track herself. But she endures, for Vodka’s sake. She can’t stay holed up in her room forever. It may have taken the better part of a year, but she has stepped foot in a stadium once more.
It all blurs together up here. It’s hard to focus. She tries to cheer for Vodka, but it comes out as a whimper. Instead, she stares at the clock. 2:20. 2:21. 2:22. 144 seconds. And it’s over. That’s a painfully long time on the track. But up here, it passes in the blink of an eye.
It’s a photo finish, but the results are crystal clear. The 2009 Champion of the Japan Cup: Vodka! As expected of her rival!
The crowd roars! Humans, umas, and everything in between scrambling to make their voices heard as cameras capture what can only be seen as history in the making. Already, she can see ‘record-setting 7 time G1 champion’ pop up on screen. Vokda’s utterly ecstatic face is framed by portraits of Symboli Rudolph, TM Opera O, and Deep Impact, the only other Japanese umas to hold this record. There’s even English at the bottom! The crowd is deafening, the lights are blinding, and yet it all pales to the pit in her stomach. The void in her heart.
Vodka’s her friend. She should be happy for her. She is happy for her. And yet, for but a moment, she feels unbridled rage. Her heart burns so fast one might almost mistake her for one of the runners. She sees red. And then she sees nothing, as she buries her face in her hands. She will not ruin this for Vodka. She deserves better.
By the time she shakes herself out of this, Vodka is already being handed a gold medal on stage. Cameras are being shoved in her face as the reporters, nay the whole world waits with bated breath for her victory speech. On the podium, she does not speak. She merely raises one finger in the air, making a number one pose.
Daiwa Scarlet’s pose.
Scarlet is torn between wanting to cry, wanting to tackle Vodka, wanting to run away from embarrassment, and wanting to kiss Vodka on the lips. Vodka takes that choice from her, jumping off stage to the shock of the public and bumrushing her in the crowd, carrying her into the stadium’s underworld away from prying eyes. Reporters and camera crews try to follow them in, but the other umas block the way. Above the frenzy, Vodka’s trainer shouts that ‘interviews can be held later! Their star just needs a moment to wash up and get ready for the cameras’. His face tells a different story, utterly smug as he stares down the tunnel at the two of them.
Soon the light fades, then the noise, as they delve deeper and deeper into the labyrinth that is the Tokyo Racecourse’s underworld. Here, no one can hear them scream. She has half a mind to challenge that notion, as she prepares to open her mouth and question why Vodka dragged her down here in front of all those cameras! Or why she used her victory pose! Or why she even ran off the podium to being with?! Then she notices Vodka shaking. Hard. She seems to be in a frenzy as she circles around Scarlet, eyes darting every which way. Her face rapidly turning red.
“Hey, are you oka-“
To the shattering of all conventional wisdom, Vodka pounces and kisses her on the lip, dipping her low and slow. Scarlet’s mind shutters. But her body reacts, taking it all in. Every little detail carves itself into her brain. The warmth of Vodka’s hands on her back. The post victory stench of Vodka’s sweat and tears. Vodka’s bangs tickling her forehead. Vodka’s tail, swinging as one with her own. Vodka’s pulse, mixing with her own. Vodka’s cute little moan, as Scarlet reaches for her ears. Vodka’s full body shiver, as she begins trailing her hands down her lithe body. Her own tears, no longer able to be held back. She doesn’t even know why she’s crying. She just is.
And then the status quo comes crashing back in as she tastes blood in her mouth. She opens her eyes to see Vodka, red in the face and gushing blood from her nose as her sensibilities finally catches up to her body.
“Ack, why n-n-now of all time?! This is so uncool! I… Uhhh… Scarlet, I’m so sorry about this!”
“…Hahaha!” Scarlet collapses to the floor with a full belly laugh, slow and low indeed. Never change, Vodka.
Vodka’s trainer is only mildly pissed off about the fact Vodka emerges from the underworld even more of a mess than when she entered 15 minutes ago. He shoos Scarlet away with an apology, stating they can get back to making out after the post-race interviews. Both she and Vodka sputter in response, but the latter is whisked away by Tracen’s support staff before she can explain that that was exactly what they were doing. Scarlet instead leaves a message that she’ll be waiting in their dorm.
Cause she’s tired and mentally drained and giddy beyond belief and frankly she would prefer her first time to be in the comfort and (relative) privacy of their dorm, rather than in the dirty tunnels of Tokyo Racecourse. Her mind is racing a thousand kilometers an hour, and yet for once it’s a good thing. Her thoughts are flooded with memories of the past several years, as she looks back at her ‘rivalry’ with her roommate and realizes just how easy it had been to fall in love. How obvious, in hindsight, that her mind and body and soul felt an affection for the romance-adverse tomboy. Those gossip rags really were onto something. For the sake of her sanity, she’ll probably have to preemptively block them all. Vodka surely drove them into a frenzy with her display at the Japan Cup.
Scarlet’s thoughts have barely slowed down by the time Vodka walks in, utterly exhausted after hours of interviews and press conferences. She feels bad for what she’s about to do. Truly. But to be fair, Vodka started it. And now Scarlet will finish it. She tackles her into bed without a speck of mercy. And for the first time in a truly long while, Scarlet dominates Vodka in a challenge of wits and endurance.
She finds she has an acquired taste for sweat and blood and drowned out moans.
With the holidays just around the corner, things finally start to slow down for the ever-fast girls of Tracen Academy. Scarlet can feel the love in the air as tensions run high. With the Arima Kinen wrapping up the day before Christmas Eve, there truly are no more outlets left to spend their energy but with each other. She and Vodka are no exception. If anything, it’s a newfound arena for their never-ending rivalry.
Ever the romantic, Scarlet wishes she could say a huge revelation washed over the two of them, sweeping them up in a whirlwind romance that overshadowed all of Tracen. In reality, things stayed stable between the two of them. They never officially declare themselves girlfriends, nor do they engage in huge displays of romantic affection, much to her chagrin. They’re rivals, through and through. The only change to their dynamic is the increased levels of kisses, cuddling, and sex.
Like, just last week they were walking down the Christmas market together. Vodka yelled at her for being scammed over a 3,000 Yen stick of ham. She yelled at Vodka for wearing a leather jacket to their date. Vodka yelled at her back for stealing said jacket when it turns out her knit cardigan is not enough to block out the cold. Vodka then ‘died’ of blood loss when she hugs her to ‘warm her up’. She kissed those bloody lips of hers, a point in her favor over this newfound battlefield. She recalls a reporter taking pictures from the corner.
She checked social media the next day. But even the gossip rags have nothing to say, seeing their dynamic as a continuation of the norm. Honestly, that’s more embarrassing the more she thinks about it. Fans have presumed she and Vodka had been dating for so long even this doesn’t hit the front cover.
What does hit the front cover is Vodka and Vodka alone, Uma of the Year for the second year in a row. The fans have been absolutely driven into a frenzy over this 7 times G1 JP champion. It’s honestly hard to find the time to be romantic with her when everyone wants a piece of her, from government agencies to international news agencies. Not even Tracen is immune from the desire to utilize their biggest star. Promotions, interviews, public forums, celebrity events… A few people even proposed her to on live TV! She made sure to keep a recording on her phone of the first time this happened, as Vodka screams at him to go away while choking on her own blood. She’s not jealous. After all, those fools never stood a chance.
But… The more she looks up Vodka’s name, the less she sees her own. Not even as a rival, nor a lover.
She remembers plotting to steal away the title of Uma of the Year earlier this year, before her weak tendons brought that all crashing down. Now she finds herself pushed further and further away from the spotlight as Vodka claims the title once more. It leaves a bitter taste in her soul. Is it wrong to want to be popular? Beloved? She’s been used to the spotlight since she was a kid, growing up the daughter of the infamous Phantom Triple Crown. Same for many of her peers, Vodka included.
It still hurts to think about. How she lost the ability to run to her heart’s desire, and how she lost the public’s favor. The only remnant she has left is the fact Vodka refuses to let their rivalry go. Even though she’s won. Completely and utterly.
Even now, she thinks to herself. Had she not lost the ability to run, would she have stolen those victories from Vodka’s grasp? Become the heel to Vodka’s story the same way Rice Shower cribbed Mejiro McQueen? It makes her sick. Nowadays, she wished she had never raced to begin with. It hurts, knowing what she’s lost. And the fact Vodka keeps dredging it up, in private and in public...
She bites her tongue. What would be the point of even telling Vodka off? It’s not like Vodka was the one to cripple her. It’s pathetic, really. She needs to let go of her desire to be number one. Support her girlfriend however she can. It’s what logic dictates. It’s what her father would have done in her place; use cold hard logic to ruthlessly suppress this unnecessary bitterness. She promised her dad she wouldn’t throw away her rival for the sake of personal what-ifs.
She promised.
With graduation on the horizon, offers start pouring in for the soon-to-be independent umas of Tracen Academy. Some companies offer to sponsor their future runs in the dream trophy league. Other offers include modeling agencies, talent scouts, variety tv shows, and even a handful of brazen spas and soaplands.
Most will be short lived. The sad reality is that almost all racing umas retire from the public by the time they hit 30. Contrary to popular belief, umas do age and all out races take their toll. Most umas rarely race in the nationals more than 6-7 years, regardless of their actual condition. An actual stable career for former racing umas is a rarity.
A training career is one of those jobs. Extraordinarily rare, however. Even the always accommodating Tracen only ever offers a handful of positions to its own graduates every few years, and only if a current staff member retires. So when she sees a letter for Vodka, written by the head of RACE, Ireland’s most prestigious uma academy, her heart erupts.
For a single second, she can feel every blood vessel scream in agony as they explode from sheer blood flow. She can’t even breathe. It’s not even her letter, but just the proximity alone! Aughhh! If she doesn’t open this right now, she’ll literally have a heart attack! The content adds more fuel to the fire. She literally lunges out the door and starts hauling ass to the track. She isn’t even trying to find Vodka, who left for the day for some errand. She’s just trying to burn up the adrenaline before it burns her.
A teaching / training position with guaranteed tenure until retirement age. High pay. Higher bonuses. Flexible hours. Off-campus housing. Free lunch. Free car / motorbike. All for the world-renowned 7-time G1 champion. Only an idiot would pass this up.
“I’m staying,” says the idiot in question, returning from her errand, with her pocket full and her nose bleeding wild. However, Scarlet is too gobsmacked by what she just heard to pay it any notice. “It’s really cool and all, and it makes my heart races just thinking about it. But…”
“But?!”
“I’ve been looking back over the past several years, and I realized I wouldn’t have become the coolest uma in the world if it hadn’t been for y-y-you.”
So?
“I want to pay you back. Make things even between the two of us. It would be so uncool of me to leave you to flounder cause of your bum leg.”
What.
“So I’m going to take responsibility and stay by your side!”
All Scarlet could see was red. “What are you thinking?!” She screams, ripping the letter from Vodka’s hands and waving it in her face until she gets the message.
“Uh… Look. I get it. It’s an amazing offer. But-"
“You don’t get it!”
“Huh?”
“You! I-! Grrr!!! I would have done anything for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Anything! This could have been me!”
“I mean, yeah. You’ve always been the more studious on-“
“That’s not what I meant! If this had happened to me, I would have taken it, no questions asked!”
“Then come with me! I could use your help, frankly! I’m no teacher. I’m sure they’d be willing to let you come along as my…“ Vodka’s nose starts to bleed once more. It’s hard to notice when all Scarlet can see is red.
“I refuse to be your tag-along!”
“My what?”
“Tag-along! Lackey! Pity party! Whatever you want to call it!”
“Oi! What are you saying! You’re Daiwa Scarlet! You’re little Miss Perfect! You’re my rival, now and forever!”
“I’m nothing compared to you!”
“HUH?!?!”
“You won! You’ve completely and utterly eclipsed me! You’re a 7 times internationally renowned champion, Vodka! The greatest of our generation!”
“I wouldn’t have made it that far if you hadn’t motivated me!”
“I wasn’t even there for your last year!”
“You supported me from the side!”
“So I’m just a glorified cheerleader to you?!”
“Argh! Scarlet, are you even hearing yourself?! You’re one of the smartest, strongest, fastes-!”
“Fastest?! Hah!”
“Why are you giving up on yourself?! Let me repeat myself since you’ve clearly gone deaf! You’re Daiwa Scarlet! You’re little Miss Perfect! You’re a 4 time G1 Champion!”
“Why are you giving up on this!? You wanted to be the coolest uma in the world! You can’t do that if you’re stuck with me!”
“That’s okay with me! I’m fine with staying in Japan! Or not!”
No. How dare her. How. Dare. She. Pity. Her.
"I just want to be with you! That’s enough for me! Because I l-l-l-love y-“
“I hate you!”
“…what”
“I can’t stand your stupid face anymore! Do you have any idea how lucky you are?! A once-in-a-lifetime career, met by a once in a lifetime opportunity! I refuse to watch by the sidelines and watch you squander what should have been mine! That letter could have been mine if not for my stupid leg and rotten luck!”
“…”
“Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of the fact I can no longer run anymore! It hurts, knowing there’s a part of my life I can no longer enjoy anymore! I want to move on with my life, and I can’t do that if you keep dragging me down!”
“…”
“Go. I don’t need you anymore.”
Vodka has no retort. Her face is slack jawed. She tries to close her mouth, but to no avail. Everytime, she’s interrupted by a sniffle or a hiccup or a tightening of her jaw. Her eyes are drenched in tears. She truly is a soft girl at heart, the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. For better and for worse. She drops whatever she was holding in her hand, too shocked to notice nor care. It lands with a plop and a cling, the distinct tang of metal hitting wood. Then, she runs.
Daiwa Scarlet waits until she’s certain Vodka has left the building before letting the tears flow. The truth is, she still wants nothing more than to be number one in all aspects, including Vodka. She dreams of being the first thing Vodka sees in the morning. The first thing Vodka sees when she comes home after a long day of teaching. The first thing that comes to Vodka’s mind whenever she’s in trouble.
She dreams she had better legs.
She dreams she had been better tempered. Telling Vodka to fuck off to Ireland was hardly the best idea in hindsight. But she’s made her bed. And now she has to lie in it.
She herself is living as good a life as she can. Her legacy is secure. More people remember ‘Miss Perfect’ than they do the ‘second coming of the Phantom Triple Crown’. Modeling agencies are lining up the block to scout her for their latest fashion line. Her striking red eyes and overflowing… assets proving to be a big boon. Most of them don’t even know she has a disability. Luckily, most ads don’t require full sprints either.
In the eye of the storm, she tore herself to bits over nothing. Only now did she realize she had overreacted. Badly. But again, hindsight is 20/20. Still, staring up at Vodka’s smiling face on the magazine cover, she can’t help but cry. She should be happy Vodka managed to move on. And with an 8 times Irish champion to boot. She really is moving up in the world. She deserves better than a whiny, broken, mean tempered girl like her anyhow. But.
“That should have been me.”
Her most guilty desire. Now her most unobtainable desire. It’s honestly such a perfect cosmic joke, how in her blind desperation to absolve herself, she committed something truly unforgivable. Vodka wore her heart on her sleeve, and Scarlet shattered it on the cold hard floor of their dorm. Literally.
She looks up at her left hand. On the third finger, lays a golden ring adorned by a cracked emerald. Vodka’s very last gift. What should have been the start of something beautiful. Gosh, she really is pathetic. The only bright side is that it’s more subtle than the coffee machine her dad stole. The only question she has left on her mind, is why Vodka made that expression at the end. Not of hate or betrayal, but of overwhelming guilt. What did she have to feel guilty about? Scarlet was the one to burn their relationship to the ground. Vodka was just her victim.
So why the guilty look..?