Chapter Text
Fujimasa March checks her watch and quietly taps her foot as she waits. Five minutes until the ashen couple is supposed to arrive. Belno Light and Super Creek are already here, the three huddled in a circle outside the restaurant’s entrance. Creek makes small talk primarily with Belno, occasionally sprinkling in a what about you, March?, jolting her out of her haze.
Her phone beeps with a text from Oguri Cap. Oh - “They’re gonna be a bit late,” March says curtly upon reading it.
March has a hard time feeling excited to see Oguri soon. By all common sense she should be. Her self from only two months ago had been thrilled about it! But she feels a knot of dread for this dinner gathering. With Tamamo Cross visiting Tokyo this week and joining in, she will have to face a continuous reminder of her shortcomings. As the waiting time passes by, March slowly starts to sink into the vines just out of the edges of her vision.
I really should be training. Look what happened in the race two days ago! And the one before that! I haven’t earned this.
“C’mon March, let’s look at the menu together,” Belno motions to her old classmate. There is indeed a laminated menu taped to the window, and March occupies herself with planning her order. Apparently Creek has been here a lot before, so March asks her for recommendations, to which she happily obliges. The distraction helps, and March is caught off guard when Belno taps her shoulder.
“Look, they’re here!” the shorter uma extends her arm as if to point down the street. Sure enough, there’s two ashen figures bounding down the uma lane, both carrying multiple paper bags in each hand. They’re giving each other the same exuberant, lively smiles and giggles that March remembers very well from the Arima Kinen, the race’s final showdown burned into her mind.
“You, Tamamo Cross, will always be my goal and my rival!”
“March! Belno! Creek! It’s so good to see you!” Oguri skids to a stop in front of the group, bouncing on her toes a bit in excitement with her tail swishing. March notices that, out of the waiting trio, Oguri is facing... her. She feels a wave of heat in her gut, affection mixing with shame. She manages a curt smile and nod and "hey"; any bigger greeting is strangled by thorns.
“Yeah, hi everyone! And sorry we’re late,” Tama adds. “Ready to head in?”
“Yep, let’s go!” Belno leads the way inside, with a spring in her step and her dimples showing. Meanwhile, Creek reaches over to take some of Oguri and Tama’s bags. As could be expected, they are filled with snacks and sweets, and a few plushies for good measure. The first half of the couple’s day together must have been eventful. March holds the door for Oguri, Tama, and Creek, and heads inside last.
The restaurant really does seem like a good pick. It’s not quite upscale or anything, but it’s very well-cleaned and decorated. Notably, the vases and some of the shelf displays are conspicuously pink and full of heart-shaped things, reminding March that this is a certified Valentine’s Day hangout.
Soon enough, everyone’s ordered, and it turns out Oguri and Tama have gotten plushies and trinkets for the whole group. Oguri excitedly hands some of the others plushies of herself wearing the Arima Kinen sash, and then digs out a plushie of March in her Listed racewear. She deposits the toy in her namesake’s arms, leaving March wondering about the discrepancy.
“I’m not sure why, but Oguri insisted on giving ya something different,” Tama says while Oguri is occupied. Well, it’s a sweet gesture either way, and the lil’ Marchie is nice and soft. March realizes she hasn’t bothered to ever get a plushie of herself before now. She takes note of Marchie’s listless expression... perhaps she really is known for not smiling very much.
Her food is tasty and well-portioned, not extraordinary but enjoyable - making it hard for her to ascertain whether coming out here has been worth it. Tama’s clearly trying to get used to eating bigger portions, although her serving, of course, completely pales to Oguri’s order of three heaping-full plates. If anything, this is modest for Oguri; March supposes she must have eaten quite a fill while alone with Tama.
March can’t help but raise an eyebrow seeing Oguri hold up a piece of her precious food toward Tama. “Here, Tama, eat this and you’ll grow stronger. Say ahhhhh!”
March has to look away, she feels too sick in her guts. She wishes she could be like Belno or Creek right now, carefree, and as happy for the couple as they deserve. It’s not fair for anybody to see how a little gesture between Oguri and Tama grates against March until she wants to scream.
“Geez, it’s not like I’m still racing or anything,” Tama replies to Oguri’s offer lightheartedly.
She wants to see the Arima Kinen as a tender, triumphant moment. Tamamo’s last race, Oguri’s hard-won first G1 victory. She clenches her fists under the table, and laments that all she can see is the person that became her entire horizon moving on two-fold.
“But... but our partner runs! You have to be a strong rival for me in our partner runs,” Oguri insists. Tama relents, and accepts Oguri’s morsel, March glancing back to see a flush creeping up Tama’s cheeks.
March entertains the idea of Oguri feeding her like this, and... the gesture itself feels hollow. What she desperately wants is to be the first one to whom Oguri offers a bite from her chopsticks. The first person she thinks of, when she thinks rival, friend, beloved.
She tries to relax her eyebrows, takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders. She pokes at the pink plastic flowers and heart balloons. She offers to share a bite with her friends, the usual, not straight-into-their-mouth way. She squeezes her plush-self.
Gradually, March starts to count the right amount of cash to cover her meal. And one more glance toward Oguri threatens to send the storm in her over the edge. Nobody here deserves to see her so blatantly jealous, or worse, get hurt if she lets these feelings bubble up and explode.
She places her money on the table, and stands up stiffly. “That should be enough for my meal. The food was good. Thank you for inviting me... and for the plushie. I really have to go, and probably for the better,” she says, and bolts out before anyone can reply.
It’s a good thing she’s run to this area before, and remembers the way back to Tracen. It’s rather long, but taking the easy way back cannot be an option, not without earning it... somehow. The pace she sets is uneven, her form sloppy by her standards. For a proper training run, her mind needs to be clear, not sloshing around with red and blue storm waves, pierced by discordant white lightning.
The last thing March saw before she ran away was Oguri’s face nuzzled into Tama’s shoulder. It was the same gesture that Oguri made to March when they reunited, when her, Norn, Rudy, and Mini came to help Oguri train for the Arima Kinen. The embrace had stayed with March for days afterward, just outside of the edge of her skin, making her feel like some long-lost floating ghost inside her was finally given an anchor to the ground. It was a sort of joy, but she was more restless than anything, wanting to cling to Oguri’s side and wait as long as it would take for her friend to hug her again.
She hopes that the friendly passerby don’t distinguish the knit of her eyebrows and the strain in her jaw from ordinary physical exertion. Seeing Oguri so casually and frequently reach out for affection with her girlfriend makes her gut feel split in half and the lump in her throat swollen.
All the turbulence in her head lulls down a bit as she sinks further into the rhythm of running. However, the rhythm cannot last nearly as long as March demands it to. No matter how much she wishes that it weren’t true, that she secretly could be trying harder, she genuinely did push herself to her limit two days ago. Her body truly is extra tired so freshly out of a race. She slows down gradually, clawing back against every drop of lost speed, until she’s panting with her hands on her knees, with barely enough presence of mind to step out of the uma lane.
Her breathing calms and the familiar, gentle post-run void spreads across her mind. She’s so tired. She just wants to go home. Is Tracen home?
It’s the only place she has to go back to. Even without a chance of catching up to Oguri, proving herself to Oguri, being loved by Oguri, she’s set foot on this mountain now. Even if the peak is impossibly out of reach... she will still find a path within the Nationals. If she can’t run anymore, she can still walk, and walk forth she does.
---
As far as academics go, March has picked up right where she left off at Kasamatsu Tracen, and this part of her life has at least gone smoothly. While she doesn’t stand out as a star student at Tokyo Tracen, she’s been on track to receiving good grades for these first few months. Right now, recovered after her run-walk back to her dorm, her homework is serving as a good distraction. It forces her to think about the content (instead of everything weighing on her) and reminds her that she’s not a failure in every way. She’s wording and rewording a sentence in her history essay when there’s a soft knock on the door.
People? At this hour? She hopes it’s Oguri, alone, but also wants to slap herself for how eagerly she thinks of her.
But it’s not Oguri on the other side; it’s Super Creek. “Oh, hi there, March! Glad you got to your dorm safe,” she says with a gentle tilt of her head.
“Oh. Yeah. I was just doing homework though...” March says, holding the door with one hand and the other sitting in her pocket.
“Ah, yes, they gave us a lot of readings this week, didn’t they?” Creek lets herself in, having walked over from her own room in her socks. “I just wanted to check in on you. And bring you some hot chocolate.” She’s holding two mugs of the stuff, the sweet smell making March’s mouth water.
“I- thanks,” March says hesitantly, a little caught off guard. Somebody thought of her. Huh. “I’ll be fine, though, and I don’t think I should be having hot chocolate these days, given my... recent form.”
Creek sets one of her mugs down on March’s desk, and sits cross-legged on the bed. She gently blows on the drink in her own cup.
“March, sweetie,” Creek starts. How long has it been since anyone called her sweetie? “I’ve seen with my own eyes how much you push yourself. You train as hard as the rest of us, if not harder. It took us what, four? five? tries to convince you to join us for dinner today, even with your trainer agreeing it would be good for you to come along.”
“I need to train that much harder to close the gap between me and, well, Oguri, but also everyone else here,” March says. She looks down and closes the door just a little more roughly than needed. She crosses over to her desk chair and brings her knees up to her chest.
“I hear you, I really do.” Creek takes a small sip. “All of us at Tracen are looking to break through some kind of limit, and so often because of this, we try to ask more of our bodies and minds than they can give. I’ve been there. Did I tell you that I fell ill all throughout last spring and summer, because I just... tried to do too much for my trainer and my friends without taking care of myself first?”
“I don’t think you did,” March says. “But that makes sense, I think? Shibasaki-san, my trainer from the Regionals, would sometimes tell me that you can’t pour from an empty cup, or... a dried-up creek in your case, I suppose.”
“Mhm, that’s right! Look at me, March,” Creek says as she rests her chin on her palm, her legs crossed. March obliges, her eyelids drooping with fatigue, a far cry from her trademark piercing stare. “This nice cup of hot chocolate-” she takes a hearty sip- “is not gonna be the difference between winning and losing. In fact, I’ve had a long week of training, and with this nice warm drink in my belly, I’m feeling more ready to take on another one!”
Creek leans forward and gently boops March on the nose. “So. You are going to drink up while that mug is still warm.” She straightens her posture back out. “And, now, I don’t want you to feel pressured, but if you’d like to talk about what made you run away today, I’m right here to listen.”
March decides that if she’s going to try to talk about her feelings, she may as well get hot chocolate down her throat, to sweeten her words. She takes a cautious sip, and it’s been a while since she’d had something truly sweet, so the taste is a little overwhelming. She lets the creamy drink swirl all around her mouth, as though examining it.
“Aww, March! You’re making a face like... like you’re seeing the sun for the first time in weeks!” Creek says.
“I... am?” March snaps her head back up. Creek’s smile borders on conspiratorial.
“Looks like someone really needed to be spoiled tonight,” she says with a giggle.
March shakes her head, but with an amused smile. “Maybe you’re right.” She clears her throat and wonders where to begin.