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"So, Lane, how do I look?"
"You look fine, Sonic. Trust me."
Silver Sonic studied her reflection in the locker room's main mirror. This would be the first time she'd be running in racing silks instead of a gym uniform. Yet more she looked at herself and her racewear, the more she doubted her fellow Uma's assurances.
"Come on, Sonic," Melody Lane reiterated, now audibly annoyed, "We have to head out in ten minutes. Get your makeup on."
Sonic let out a reluctant sigh. "Fine."
She turned around but took another moment to look at Lane's racing silks before she started heading towards the makeup room. They had both styled their racewear after Orfevre, one of their favorite racers growing up. A white double-breasted tailcoat paired with thigh-high boots and a lacy, ruffled showgirl skirt.
That moment was all it took to reaffirm Sonic's belief that her high-school roommate wore the look better than she did. Lane's wavy bay hair, accented by a white streak on the left side of her head, complimented her white boots and sky-blue skirt. In contrast, Sonic wondered if her gray hair, a spikey mess even when tied back in a ponytail, clashed with her black boots and blue-and-yellow dress.
Sonic knew she had to focus on the race as she finally made it to the locker's main door. Yet she couldn't take her mind her racewear. About how she could change things up for the next time. Perhaps she could take some cues from Orfevre's gray-haired cousin, whose name was currently eluding her memory.
"Keep up, will you?" Lane implored as they made their way across a concrete hallway. At this point, she was struggling to remain polite.
"R-right!" Sonic hastily responded. "Sorry about that."
Sonic impatiently stood and waited while an announcer's voice introduced her fellow Umas to a crowd she couldn't see. While she was near the back of the line, she could still see the exit to the dark hallway, where a colorful archway framed the sunny racetrack beyond. Her roommate was currently standing on a small stage beneath the arch, giving the paparazzi beneath her a polite wave.
"No. 4 is Melody Lane," an announcer proclaimed. "She may not be a favorite to win today, but her presence at these races is always welcome."
Sonic found the announcer's terse introduction of Lane disappointing to the point that it was almost amusing. She could think of countless things one could say about Lane, the shortest Uma to ever win a graded race. They could've at least mentioned how this was Lane's sixth G1 race and her third time at the Tenno Sho.
Sonic's mood shifted from amused back to irked as she listened to the announcer lavish praise upon the Uma that came after Lane. TR Royal, the fourth favorite to win. At the same time, Sonic admired Royal's racing silks; a crown and a regal, checkerboard-pattered dress. Her attire befitted her name.
Sonic's mood soured further when it turned out the Uma in front of her, Titleholder, was the second favorite to win the race. How would she measure up to something like that?
"You're up, kid," a security guard told Sonic once Title had left the stage.
Sonic took a deep breath to steel her resolve and set aside her misgivings. Her march onto the stage was exaggerated by how awkward she felt.
Her anxiety finally started to abate once she made atop the stage and realized she could hear something other than the paparazzi's chatter and cameras. She turned around to see a tidal wave of cheering fans packed into the bleachers above the entrance. Above them was a wall of screens, showing a live feed of her on the stage, broadcasting her emotions to all of Japan.
"No. 17 is Silver Sonic, making her G1 debut," the announcer blared through the speakers. "She may only be the eight favorite to win, but we hope she'll do her best and learn something useful for the next time."
Sonic's initial shock at the spectacle faded away, leaving behind only awe. She felt like she was on top of a mountain, watching as the most brilliant of sunrises rose above the rest of the range. The crowd's enthusiasm was infectious, and it compelled her to strike a pose for the paparazzi. It was an act driven both by instinct and a desire to give something for the reporters to talk about.
"Wrap it up, Seventeen," a security guard called out to Sonic. "We need to make way for the next contestant."
Sonic contemplated defying the guard, but decided she'd have other opportunities to have fun. She pointed at the crowd and flashed one last cocky grin before jumping off the stage. She muscled her way through reporters packed together like carrots in a box, pushing aside their questions as easily as their bodies. Eventually, the announcer drew their attention away from her, giving her a chance slip out of the crush.
"Last but not least, is the favorite to win the race. Give it up for No. 18, Deep Bond!"
When Sonic finally made it out of the crowd, she saw that Lane was waiting for her. She was relieved that she had someone she could talk to until the race started, for the crowd's applause didn't feel the same now that it wasn't directed at her.
"So," Lane asked with a confident yet gentle smile, "How did it feel?"
"That was great!" Sonic chuckled. "You weren't kidding when you said G1 races had a different kind of energy."
"I know, right?" Lane continued in a happily casual tone, "Have I mentioned that we'll all be taking part in the Winning Live at the end of the day?"
"All of us?" Sonic was stunned by her roommate's claim. "Not just the top three? I mean, we're talking about a Winning Live, aren't we?"
Lane remained playfully relaxed. "Don't get me wrong. The top three still get the spotlight, but rest of us will be serving as the backup dancers."
"Backup dancers?" Sonic was now more intrigued than surprised. "Tell me more."
Sonic's conversation with Lane helped calm her nerves while she waited for the competition to start. She also appreciated how even a G1 race allowed the contestants some freedom to explore the track and get a feel for the turf.
Recreation came to an end when the announcer instructed everyone to enter the starting gate. Sonic's anxiety resurfaced the moment she lost sight of Lane, and things only got worse once she was locked into her assigned stall.
Sonic tried to think about how much she was looking forward to participating in a G1 winning live, even if she ended up as a lowly backup dancer. Then she heard voices from the neighboring stalls. The voices of the two favorites to win.
"Hey, Title!" Deep Bond called out, "I hope you're ready to lose again!"
"The judges' predictions aren't prophecy," Titleholder scoffed. "Your victory is no guarantee." She couldn't have sounded any less interested in Bond's taunts.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Bond remained as confident as ever. "I beat their expectations the last time we raced together, and if I remember correctly, you didn't."
"Whatever. You still only got second place."
As far as Sonic could tell, neither Bond nor Title seemed to care that she was standing between them, eavesdropping on their conversation. It was probably to be expected, as she was a lowly rooking when it came to prestigious races. Still, something about it all annoyed Sonic to the point of anger, enough that she couldn't even appreciate how said anger allowed her to finally suppress her anxiety without Lane's help.
"On your marks!" the announcer blared through the speakers.
Sonic slid one foot back. As she shifted her weight onto her front leg, she imagined the limb compressing like a metal spring. Bond and Title had gone silent, meaning they too were preparing for the moment. If she had the time, Sonic would've contemplated what they did to get ready, how it differed from her preparations.
"Get set!"
There was no more time for distractions. Sonic's attention was on the starting gate, waiting for the exact moment it would swing open. She could almost imagine the light splitting apart the metal grating, freeing her from the darkness of her stall.
"Go!"
The doors swung open. Sonic instinctively released all her pent-up energy. Her legs uncoiled and propelled her forward to join her fellow Umas on the racetrack. At least, that's what was supposed to happen.
Instead, something snagged one of Sonic's sleeves, causing her to involuntarily make a sharp turn and ram into the side of her stall at full speed. She would've been stunned by the impact, but her shock was quickly overcome by anger when she saw Bond and Title speeding ahead out of the corner of her eye.
Sonic pulled herself free of the door, so enraged she didn't even care about the ripping sounds her racewear made. She regained her footing and accelerated down the track. She was grateful that she could still see the rest of the contestants, but for the moment, that was the only positive thought in her mind.
As she pushed her body to its limits to regain her lost momentum, Sonic internally screamed at herself in frustration. She was furious she had squandered all the hype and energy she had been building up. To say it wasn't the first impression she wanted to make at a G1 race would've been a massive understatement.
Sonic tried to push her negative thoughts into the back of her head. She focused on closing the distance between herself and the rest of the contestants. Yet those thoughts proved to be as persistent as Sonic herself. Was what happened at the starting gate a freak accident, or was it all her fault?
Whatever had happened, it was unquestionably unbecoming for someone who strived to follow in Orfevre's footsteps. If anything, such an ignoble start to the race would've been better suited for Orfevre's cousin. The wild, gray-haired stallion whose name Sonic still couldn't remember for some reason.
Sonic's train of thought was derailed when she nearly tripped on her own two feet, reminding her that she had more pressing concerns. She tried to look down to see what had happened, only to be smacked in the face by the remains of her sleeve, which were flapping over her shoulder in long ragged ribbons.
Frustrated as ever, Sonic ripped the fabric off her body. As it continued to flap about in her hand, she remembered that Umas weren't allowed to remove any clothing during a race. After an initial bout of panic and regret, she wrapped and tied the fabric around her arm, nearly tripping once more as she did so. She wondered if that would be enough to satisfy that rule, but decided she needed to focus on the now.
Sonic was relieved when she was finally close enough to the rest of the runners to hear their footsteps. However, she knew the meant she now had a chance to recover from her late start. Her next goal was to find a way around the crowd.
The first idea that came to Sonic's mind was to move to the outside of the racetrack, where she wouldn't have to worry about everyone else jockeying for a position. Unfortunately, someone else was already on the outside. Deep Bond.
Sonic contemplated her chances of contesting Bond's attempt to run ahead of the crowd. Bond was probably blowhard, judging by her brief conversation with Titleholder, so taking her down a peg might be even more satisfying than winning. Then Sonic remembered Bond was the favorite while the judges had deemed her a measly number eight.
Concluding that she didn't want to pick a fight with Bond, Sonic took another look at the other runner. They weren't as closely packed as she initially thought, and since they were on a straight part of the course, there wasn't much jockeying. Perhaps she could weave her way through without bumping into anyone.
Sonic contemplated her idea. Yes, it would be a reckless maneuver, more befitting of Orfevre's cousin. Still, considering the way Sonic had started the race, perhaps it would be better if she embraced her wild side. Besides, if her plan worked, then it would be an act of domination worthy of the Orfevre herself.
The first corner of the racecourse was visible on the horizon. If Sonic was to enact her plan, she would have to do it now or never.
Sonic withdrew into her own mind for a fleeting moment. It was all the time she needed to find her remaining strength and resolve. She returned to the moment and pushed her way between the runners and into the crowd. She weaved her way through all the moving bodies and hooves, making sure not to get too close to anyone, lest she break more rules and risk someone's safety.
The more progress Sonic made, the more pleased she was with herself. Perhaps she would be able to recover from her initial blunder. Of course, the race still had other challenges that would test Sonic's worth. Among them was Bond, who remained visible beyond the rest of the competition.
As Sonic got closer the front of the pack, she came across a familiar face.
"Hey there, Lane!" Sonic called out to the petit mare in lacy blue ruffles.
"S-Sonic!" her roommate gasped in surprise.
"How are doing?" Sonic found herself a lot more chipper now that she was once again in the presence of someone she knew.
"Um, fine, I guess." Lane paused the conversation so she could fend off another Uma. "As fine as I can be while keeping everyone else off my back."
"I see." Sonic caught of glimpse of Bond moving towards the front of the pack. "I'd help you out, but I really want to win this race."
"Some friend you are." Lane let out an irked sigh. "I suppose we're all rivals on the turf. Also, what happened to your sleeve?"
Sonic chuckled mischievously. "Little mishap with the starting gate."
"Seriously? I can't trust you with anything, can I?"
"Hey, at least I caught it before it fell off."
"Right. I'm pleasantly surprised you remembered the rules."
Lane watched while Sonic accelerated ahead of her. Then she noticed something surprising that instantly converted her annoyance at her roommate into concern.
"What the—" She pondered before shouting in a panic, "Sonic, wait!"
Sonic was far enough ahead that she was barely able to hear Lane call out for her. She briefly wondered what her roommate wanted to say, but decided she'd rather focus on the race, so she accelerated further. She made it out of the pack just in time to whip around the first corner. However, Bond was still ahead, with Titleholder further beyond.
Bond racing silks consisted of a red tuxedo with shorts and short sleeves, paired with long white gloves and boots. Combined with her short brown hair, it gave Bond a streamlined appearance, fitting for someone fast enough to justify being the favorite to win.
Sonic told herself not to be intimidated by Bond, that the judges' rankings weren't gospel. Not to mention she was free of the pack, so she could focus on her velocity and not worry about running into her fellow competitors. Then again, she'd have less time to deal with the front runners before having to contend with the second corner.
"Hey, Deep Bond!" Sonic roared.
Bond glanced back while maintaining her pace. "Oh?" she pondered curiously, "And who might you be? I don't believe I've seen you before."
Sonic flashed a cocky grin. "Come on, I was between you and Titleholder at the starting line. You've got to at least remember that!"
"I only remember Umas that can give me a good run." Bond chuckled and picked up her pace. "Let's see what you've got, rookie!"
Sonic leaned forward and pushed ahead. She was finally starting to feel the fatigue burning through her legs. Yet to her surprise, the cool air blowing over her body was enough to keep the pain at bay. As such, she continued to focus on keeping up with Bond.
Bond smirked when she found herself running neck and neck with Sonic. She shifted her trajectory just enough to close the distance between herself, Sonic, and the racetrack's inner railing. Sonic shifted her own path to avoid Bond's stomping feet, at least until she felt a fingertip clip the rail.
Sonic waved away the stinging in her hand as she frantically assessed her situation. She had to choose quickly, before she reached the next corner of the race. Would she defy Bond and push forward, or give into the pressure and fall back?
Sonic chose to push ahead. To focus her energy not on dodging Bond's steps, but on using the second corner's curve to build up momentum. No, not just her opponent. Sonic was also fighting to outrun her own panic, her realization over just how much more aggressive G1 races were than anything else she had ever run in.
"My, my," Bond pondered, more bemused than anything by Sonic's determination. "You certainly run better than you dress."
Sonic nearly stumbled over her own two feet as she processed Bond's snide remark. "What did you say?" she eventually growled.
"You heard me," Bond smirked, "Those have got to be the gaudiest racing silks I've ever seen. I do commend your bravery, though."
That was the final straw. Sonic could handle someone saying her racewear didn't suit her, but to call said racewear gaudy was a different story. She and Lane had worked hard to find designs and materials worthy of Orfevre's high standards. As far as Sonic was concerned, to insult her racing silks was to insult the Golden Tyrant herself.
Bond had to pay for what she said, but since they were on a racecourse, Sonic couldn't resort to violence. Instead, she had to channel her desire to lunge at Bond into doing the exact opposite. To beat Bond, Sonic would have to run away and steal the glory Bond so obviously craved. Strike her ego, not her face.
Sonic's anger coursed through her body, but unlike the burning pain of fatigue, her hot temper was almost soothing. It helped her focus and push aside Bond's taunt.
"My, my," Bond pondered once more, genuinely impressed with Sonic's second wind. "You're not bad, kid. Now let's see if you're good enough!"
Bond's mind and soul momentarily withdrew from the racecourse while she prepared herself to get into to the zone. To cast aside her physical limitations and show the gray-haired newcomer what it took to win a G1 race.
At least, that's what she would've done had she not notice someone approaching her from behind. A bay-haired Uma wearing a crown and checkerboard-print dress.
"What the—" Bond scrambled to swerve out of the way before this new Uma ran her over. "Royal?! Watch where you're going!"
"Oh, sorry," was TR Royal's sarcastic response, "But you seemed to be off your game, and I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that."
A flustered Bond stammered, "Off my game?"
"I mean, you just let that weirdo rookie run ahead of you."
It was then that Bond came to the embarrassing realization that Sonic had drawn her focus away from winning the race. "Why you… I'll show you off-game!"
Bond finally got into the zone, but she couldn't use her newfound energy to run ahead and claim first place. Instead, she would have to waste her energy fighting off Royal's attempt to steal her spot.
Further down the procession, Sonic glanced behind her when she heard the commotion. She gave herself a satisfied smile when she saw Bond struggling to stay in third place. At the rate things were going, she would beat the favorite to win the race, and that was a victory in and of itself.
However, Sonic wasn't going to just settle for a moral triumph. She wanted to win the entire race, and there was only one thing standing her way. A bay-haired Uma wearing white gloves and a green dress with ruffled yellow shoulders. Titleholder, Bond's apparent rival and the second favorite to win.
"Hey, Title!" Sonic yelled, "You ready to get flushed out?!"
Title's only response was to glance over her shoulder, give Sonic an apathetic glare, and continue running. Sonic was initially annoyed by Title's dismissive demeanor, but she quickly found herself excited by the implied challenge.
At least until Sonic willed herself to go faster, only to see the distance between herself and Title grow instead of shrink. Then she heard the audience's cheering intensify, and a panic set in when she remembered what that usually entailed.
Sonic's fears were confirmed when she saw the ornate post that marked the finish line. The race was about to end, and even she still had an ounce of stamina left in her body, she wouldn't have the time to find it.
Title sped past the finish line. The crowd was now roaring with enthusiasm. As Sonic crossed the line, she tried to assure herself that there was no shame in coming second. This was her first G1 race, after all, so what she had achieved was impressive. Perhaps just as importantly, she had outrun the favorite to win. There was little doubt in her mind her skills could and would improve for her next time.
As she and her fellow Umas approached the end of the racecourse, Title slowed down and gave the crowd a curt yet graceful wave. Sonic got ready to also decelerate until she noticed the screens above the bleachers. While they were unsurprisingly focused on the winner of the race, Sonic herself was visible in the background.
Sonic took some time to study her own image and see just how badly she had damaged her racing silks. Even with the torn sleeve, Sonic's tailcoat was still majestic. Then she looked lower, and what she saw startled her.
Before Sonic could fully process her image on the screen, something slammed into her stomach. It was the railing that marked they outer boundaries of the racecourse, reminding her that she had gotten too enamored with her own image. That she should've remained focused on slowing down.
Sonic's momentum sent her jackknifed body spinning around the rail like a wheel. After she finally slipped off, she continued to roll across the grass beyond the course. Her mind kept rolling even after inertia had stopped her body.
The first coherent thought Sonic was able to formulate was a desire to unravel from the crumpled heap her clumsiness had left her in. Her next desire was to do something about the pain that was finally registering in her abdomen. Unfortunately, said pain had robbed her of any desire to move from her current position.
Fortunately, Sonic was lying face down, and the pressure from the soft grass and firm ground were enough to sooth some of her pain. She found enough strength to reach down to her backside, but what she felt wasn't the skirt she had donned for the race. She suddenly understood what had happened.
The way she tripped while salvaging her sleeve. Lane calling out to her before the final stretch of the race. Bond's insult regarding her racewear. The soothing breeze that brushed over her legs throughout the run. It all made sense now.
Sonic's sleeve wasn't the only thing that had been torn up by the starting gate. Her skirt had also been ripped apart, and only now did she realize it had fallen off. For nearly the entire race, she had been showing off her carrot-print boxer shorts to everyone in the stadium, but not just them. Countless people across Japan and the world as well.
Sonic's embarrassment was so intense it had almost become a physical sensation. It overpowered the soreness in her stomach when she realized her little underwear show was the least of her worries. She had indeed broken the rules about clothing. Her efforts to outrun Bond and win the race amounted to absolutely nothing.
The grass muffled Sonic's screams of frustration, and the few that got out were too far away from the audience or her fellow Umas to hear. She would've kicked and punched the ground to further vent, but her position limited her movement, and she was too exhausted to even think about moving her body. As such, she continued to scream in a sad, futile attempt at a temper tantrum.
Eventually, Sonic got too exhausted to even scream, so she continued lying face down. She hoped that would be enough to hide her shame from the word, but then she remembered there was hardly anything covering her boxers.
There was no refuge for her in the present, so she desperately looked for one in the past. Perhaps she could relive her conversation with Lane right before the race started.
"Lane, I've been thinking."
"About what, Sonic?"
"What if I'm not cut out to be a racer?"
"We're Uma Musume. We were born to run."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we were born to win. I mean, we both like to talk about how we're going to be just like Orvefre when we grow up, but if we're being honest… so far, my career hasn't really gone that way."
"…I know what you mean."
"What if I'm not born to win? What if everything I've done has been for nothing?"
"It wasn't for nothing. Even if we aren't any good at racing, we'll have other ways to fulfill our need to run, even at Tracen."
"Hey, Sonic?" a concerned Lane called out from the railing. "Are you still alive?"
"Yeah," Sonic dejectedly bemoaned. "Have I been disqualified yet?" She gave her roommate a half-hearted wave while keeping her face buried in the grass.
"Oh, you figured that out already?" Lane, slightly less concerned took a moment to choose her next words. "Technically speaking, you still need to face the judges."
Embarrassed as ever, Sonic would've pressed her face into the ground if it wasn't already there. "Just let me die already."
"Oh, you're not getting away that easily!" someone else chuckled in amusement.
It was Bond, who was next to Lane, leaning on the railing. Title, apathetic as ever, was standing behind her.
"You." Sonic let out a sigh of contempt. "Have you come to gloat?"
Bond chuckled some more, "No, silly, the race is over! I'm just here to remind you that we need to get ready for the Winning Live."
Within a matter of seconds, Sonic rolled onto her back and bolted onto her feet. The words "Winning Live" filled her with the same kind of excited energy she had back at the starting line. Energy that quickly dissipated once she remembered her current situation, which couldn't have been any further from said line.
"Wait a minute," she pondered aloud, "I'm still disqualified, right?"
"Yes," Title deadpanned, "But this is a G1 race we're talking about."
"You ran with us, and tonight you'll be dancing with us," Bond playfully elaborated. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."
"You do realize she's just going to be a backup dancer, right?"
"That's the thing about being at front of the pack," Bond chuckled, "You don't get to see the rest of us have all the fun. Who know? Maybe she'll steal the show."
"Those undergarments alone could steal the show," Title snarked.
Sonic panicked and covered her hips with her hands. She then realized she needed a more permanent solution. She untied her torn sleeve and wrapped it around her boxers. It wasn't enough, so she ripped off her other sleeve to complete the makeshift skirt. She hoped that would cover enough cartoon carrots.
At first, Sonic silently lamented the destruction of the racing silks she had worked so hard to assemble. At least until she noticed her getup now bore some resemblance to the racewear of Orfevre's crazy gray-haired cousin, whose name she could finally recall.
While she continued to overhear Title and Bond gossip about her, Sonic wondered if she should've been modeling herself after Orfevre's cousin instead of Orfevre herself. To be the kind of Uma that could entertain her peers and fans, even when she doesn't win.
"Hey, what are you guys doing over there?!" Royal called out from the other side of the racetrack. "The afterparty's about to start!"
Lane and the others headed towards the Uma in the checkerboard dress. Sonic shrugged and set aside her remaining thoughts about Orfevre's cousin. Perhaps when the day was over, she could revisit her plans to reinvent herself.
However, when Sonic caught up with her roommate and would-be rivals, some more thoughts crossed her mind.
"Wait a minute," Sonic wondered before pointing at Bond. "When did you get so friendly all of the sudden?"
Bond laughed off Sonic's question. "I told you already, the race is over! No more need for hostilities."
Sonic remained incredulous as she shifted her attention to Title.
Title sighed and rolled her eyes. "As far as Bond's concerned, her taunts and boasts are just part of the game. Don't take it personally."
"Um, right," a confused Sonic muttered.
The gray-haired Uma trotted over to her roommate with her final thought on mind.
"So, Lane," Sonic pondered, "You had mentioned Tracen has other courses."
"Oh, right," Lane mused. "I remembered Orfevre had a cousin. Not Gold Ship, someone else, but she took up steeple chasing instead of flat racing."
"Are you thinking we should take up steeple chasing?"
"Not necessarily. It just reminded me of another course Tracen offers. Dressage."
"Dressage?" the name alone had Sonic intrigued.
"Dancing, basically. I've noticed you seem to enjoy our dance lessons more than actual training."
"Yeah, I guess I do," Sonic chuckled, "I guess could try out dressage if racing doesn't work out for me. Of course, knowing my luck, I'd probably fail at that too."
"You won't know until you try, and don't worry if it doesn't work. We're Uma Mususme, we were born to run, and that means running until we find where we belong."