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"...When I grow up, please become my bride!"
I can't remember exactly when it was that a certain little Umamusume said something straight out of a shoujo manga to me.
I do remember how cute she looked, though—chestnut hair swaying, head bowed as she held herself out to me with all her might, saying it to a version of me who was still just a student.
At the time, I didn't think of her as a romantic prospect at all. She couldn't have been any older than first or second grade, at a generous estimate. I, on the other hand, was probably in high school.
There was something like a junior club for very young Umamusume near my house. Back then I had no plans of becoming a trainer, so to me it was basically just "that place nearby where little kids go." But one of the children there stood out to me because she was isolated in a strange way.
At first I thought she was being bullied, so I spoke to her. Looking back on it now, I know I was playing at being some kind of righteous hero in a way that didn't suit me at all. Still, for some reason, I couldn't leave her alone.
Even when I talked to her, all she would do was repeat, "I'm... a monster..." Looking closer, the other children didn't seem like bullies so much as earthlings shrinking back from some unknown life-form from outer space.
I remember desperately trying to soothe her as she kept her head down. Granted, some of the other kids treated me like a suspicious stranger more than once, but after I kept coming back and talking to her, people started mistaking us for sisters or something like that. Over time, she began to open up to me too, and she finally started telling me things.
According to her, whenever people saw the way she ran, they recoiled in fear and called her a monster.
No matter how many races she won against other children her age, what she received from the people around her wasn't applause, but frightened muttering, fearful noise, and grief.
It wasn't that I pitied her like some tragic heroine who needed flowers strewn in her path. I only spoke to her because it felt horribly unfair that those were the words being thrown at her.
Before I knew it, I had started going regularly to the club she attended. Part of it was because her running fascinated me. The way she ran pulled at my heart like an addictive drug, and apparently it really was something other people couldn't accept.
The children all pointed at her and called her a "monster," like frightened herbivores trembling before a carnivore, unable even to eat.
"Hey... she really is scary."
"I don't wanna race with her. Because... she looks kind of like a ghost. One second she's behind you... and then before you know it, she's all the way in front..."
"..."
On a certain day, in a certain race, she crossed the finish line first again—as naturally as breathing.
Saying it like this is rude to the other kids, but it was like there was one cheetah mixed in with a flock of sheep. Her level was obviously nowhere near theirs. At the time, I vaguely wondered whether maybe there were famous girls at Tracen Academy—the kind who showed up on TV—who might actually be able to compete with her.
I crouched down to her eye level and looked into those downcast crimson eyes.
"...It's okay. You're not a monster. You can have confidence in the way you run."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. I like your running. I like it so much I wish I could see you race in a real stadium someday."
That was the truth.
From the bottom of my heart, I thought about how happy it would make me to see her run on a real track someday.
But she lowered those crimson eyes, glowing softly in the light of sunset, and looked into the distance as she spoke.
"If I were to run somewhere like that... I'm sure everyone would hate it..."
"...That won't happen."
When I look back on it now, I think: what a baseless thing to say. What could you even do for her? All you could do was comfort her and speak to her kindly.
But at the time, I was too desperate to care how impossible it sounded. I had a feeling that if I didn't hold on to her there, something terrible would happen. Normally, I'm negative—or, if you're being kind, cautious—and I don't tend to act on pure intuition. But my school life, my part-time job, and a dozen other things had all been stalling out, and mentally I was cornered too.
With a ragged voice, I desperately kept speaking to her.
"I'll be the one cheering for you. No matter who calls you a monster, I'll always call out to you."
"...Big sister..."
When she smiled then, crumpled and fragile, she looked adorable to me in a way that felt almost sisterly—and for some reason, I thought, completely on my own, that I had to protect her.
Even though we still hadn't exchanged names.
Some part of me thought that family-like affection I felt toward her—something close to what I'd feel for a little sister—was presumptuous. Out of place. I assumed that to her, I was probably just some older girl who kept hanging around and bothering her.
Kids are like that. Pure and cruel, angels with little devil wings. I assumed that once she grew up, she'd forget all about me, and someday, after she entered Tracen Academy, I'd do no more than watch her races on television.
At least, that's what I thought.
"...Big sister, I love you."
"...My big sister... mine alone..."
"...Hm?"
I do remember her clutching the sleeve of my uniform and murmuring something, but I didn't have hearing as sharp as an Umamusume's, so I couldn't make it out.
The sunset wrapped around us, announcing that night wasn't far off. I figured it was about time I went home, but I also felt like I couldn't leave her alone just yet.
While I was speaking to her so desperately, everyone else had drifted away from us. They'd all gone running back toward the teachers and were gathered in a circle around what was probably one of the club instructors, another Umamusume.
When I saw one of the teachers about to come call her over, I gently tried to persuade her.
"...Well then. I should get going. The teacher's coming to call you."
"...You're... going home?"
"Hm? Yeah... I mean, if I don't get back soon, my parents will get mad."
That was just an excuse off the top of my head. In reality, both my parents worked late and usually weren't home anyway.
But—
she wouldn't let me go.
"...?"
The instant I said I was leaving, her grip on my uniform sleeve grew even tighter. Even though she was small, the full strength of an Umamusume was no joke. The part of my sleeve she was holding had already started stretching dramatically.
She always gave the impression of being a quiet, obedient little "good girl," so I never expected something like this from her. I asked if she wasn't feeling well.
But she only replied, "I'm fine," which only filled my head with more question marks.
"Um... Big sister really has to go home now..."
"..."
"...I don't want that..."
"...Huh?"
She raised her face from where she'd been looking down and, for once, shouted.
"Please... stay with me forever!!!"
My body jumped at the force of her voice, and at the same time I let out the world's most pathetic little, "Huh?" The teacher watching us looked just as stunned, eyes wide.
For about thirty seconds, my brain simply loaded.
And once I finally understood what she'd said, confusion and embarrassment began throwing down inside me like some giant fighting-game brawl.
Please stay with me forever.
Those childishly direct words—sweet enough to rot your teeth—melted my thoughts into sludge.
(...No... she's just a tiny child... she probably didn't think deeply about it at all... right?)
I could only clutch my head and convince myself of that.
Except—
the look on her face at that moment was dead serious.
Even if the other person is a child, when someone says something that straightforward to you, of course it's embarrassing. Feeling the heat spread all the way to my ears, I answered as gently as I could.
"...I'm happy you feel that way, but we can't stay together forever. I'll promise to come again tomorrow, okay?"
Trying to make it sound playful, I added, "It's all right. I'll come pick you up, little princess."
Truthfully, I didn't know whether I'd really be able to come tomorrow. I had a daily life of my own, and if I had work or something urgent came up, I might not make it. But in that moment, I thought it was the only way to calm her down, so I blurted out a promise I wasn't even sure I could keep.
And then—
then she said that.
"Um... Big sister..."
"Hm? What's wrong?"
"When I grow up, please become my bride!"
"..."
This dream again, I thought.
It was like a record that replayed fragments of the past, and every time it did, it pressed down on my head with that same heavy weight.
Apparently the price for staying up all night had finally caught up with me; I'd fallen asleep on the sofa in the trainer's office for quite a while. A blanket someone had put over me was wrapped around my body.
When I sat up and looked at the desk, I found a letter in beautiful handwriting that read, Please try not to overwork yourself, along with what looked to be homemade cookies.
The chestnut-haired Umamusume girl from my dream.
The girl who had looked at me with those crimson eyes and given me that adorable proposal.
—I was now bound to that very girl by contract, as her trainer.
She didn't remember me.
Well, of course she didn't, I thought. I looked different from back then, and it's not as if I had the kind of striking appearance an Umamusume has.
There was no reason she'd remember a proposal she made as a child. I understood that. And yet... it was also true that part of me felt just a little disappointed.
That dream—or rather, that fragment of the past—has a continuation too. I remember what came after it. I will definitely come to pick you up, she told me so desperately.
—Maybe what I have now could be called a kind of "being picked up" too.
If I said I never wanted to date her, that would probably be a lie. But in terms of our positions, something like that was impossible, and besides, I had no intention of forcing her to remember.
If she remembered me on her own, and still felt the same way—
I was thinking that when the office door gave a little rattle and opened, and she—Still—walked in.
"...You're awake, Trainer."
"Ah... Still. Thank you—not just for the blanket, but even the cookies. You really didn't have to do all that."
"No... because it was for you, above anyone else."
The way she could say things like that so naturally, with that syrupy smile on her face, was terrifying.
At this point, it was enough to make me suspect she really did remember.
Though to be fair, I was hardly any better, having entered into this contract while remembering everything myself.
Still, then was then. If she didn't remember, then all I could do was carry these feelings with me to the grave.
But... just a little, I felt disappointed.
Sometimes I think I shouldn't have become a trainer.
But if I hadn't, I never would have met her again like this.
At the very least, I had thought if she rejected me completely and mercilessly, maybe I could give up. Living with feelings suspended in midair while she kept saying things that made them easy to misunderstand was too unsettling.
As I ate the cookies she'd given me, I thought about all that.
They were delicious. The bake was perfect, they weren't overly sweet, and I found myself thinking that she would surely make a wonderful bride—kind, beautiful, and able to cook.
The moment I thought that, though, that line flashed through my mind again.
When I grow up, please become my bride!
Looking back on it now, shouldn't you have been the one becoming the bride?
But back then she had stubbornly insisted, No, Big Sister is the bride.
Maybe because I was knitting my brow and sinking into thought, Still leaned in to peer at me with a worried look.
"...Trainer?"
"Ah... no, it's fine. I'm just still sleepy."
"...You must be exhausted. I think you ought to rest a little longer..."
No matter how many times I said I was fine, she stubbornly tried to tuck me back in. There was no way I could tell her, I was dreaming that you confessed to me, so all I could do was rub my sleepy eyes and keep eating cookies.
The cookies that had tasted so good just moments earlier started losing their flavor.
If I let my guard down even a little, that scene came back to me immediately.
"...When I grow up, please become my bride... was it?"
The words slipped out completely unconsciously.
Because I was leaning forward with my cheek in my hand and spacing out, it took me a few seconds to realize it, but the words I'd intended to keep locked in my heart had undeniably come out of my mouth.
It was only when I saw the expression on Still's face—eyes wide in a kind of silent shock I'd never seen from her before—that I realized I'd said something truly disastrous.
"Ah... n-no, that's not—I mean—"
"..."
I messed up, I thought.
I couldn't read her expression. Through the strands of chestnut hair hiding her eyes, I could see only a little bit of red—and it was trembling.
Even if she pressed me, I felt like I could probably make something up and muddle through somehow, but the thought of what would happen if the lie were exposed scared me too much to try.
The more humans panic, the narrower their thinking becomes. The harder I tried to come up with an excuse, the more trapped my mind felt, until it stopped being useful altogether.
As I floundered, saying nothing and panicking uselessly, Still—composed in perfect contrast to me—called my name.
"...Trainer."
"...Yes."
Her tone was far from bright. It sounded as though she were trying to confirm something, and my lips had begun trembling.
"...Who said that to you?"
"...Well..."
There was no way I could honestly tell her, You did, so in the space of a few frantic seconds, I decided to invent a girl who had never existed.
We were no longer some neighborhood "big sister" and a little girl. We were now trainer and Umamusume. I didn't want to say anything careless that might put cracks in that relationship. If she found out it was a lie, then I'd simply have to accept that it was time.
I drew in a breath and spun my imaginary story as evenly as I could.
"...Back when I was in high school, there was a younger girl in my neighborhood. We got along pretty well. I thought of her like having a little sister, but apparently she felt differently."
"She told me that when she grew up, she'd become my bride. No matter how much I refused, she wouldn't back down... I think I ended up saying that if she still felt that way when she turned eighteen, then sure."
Even as I said it, I honestly thought there was no way that could be true. I'm not still in love with my first love either. That's just how people's love is. Fragile as foam, delicate as glass, sweet as candy.
I kept my eyes averted from her gaze—the way it felt like it was interrogating its prey—and finished speaking.
And then, as though pressing further in on me, she began talking too, in a quiet voice that spilled out one word at a time.
Her tone had brightened compared to before.
"...When I was little, there was someone I adored."
"She was the only person besides my parents who reached out a hand to me when the people around me feared me as a monster. She called to me in a gentle voice and looked at me with kind eyes."
"At the time, I truly believed that if it were with her, I could spend the rest of my life together with no regrets. Even now... that feeling has not changed."
I fell silent under the force of her direct gaze.
It was so straightforward, and yet it carried heat. Like a magnet, it pulled my eyes in and refused to let them escape.
"—Thank goodness. So you did remember after all."
When she narrowed her eyes and flushed, it didn't seem like embarrassment so much as excitement.
With an expression almost ecstatic, she wrapped her arms around my back and hugged me tightly.
I'd thought it back then too, but an Umamusume's strength can hurt a human body quite badly. All I could do was pat at her shoulder and try to communicate the pain.
Eventually the pressure of her arms eased a little, but when I tried to slip out, Still naturally refused to let me go.
"I was wondering what I would do if you didn't remember. I had been prepared to use every means available to make you remember... Ah. So it truly was you."
"...You remembered everything, and still you made a contract with me?"
"I told you, didn't I? I would definitely come to pick you up."
At the satisfied look on her face, my mind short-circuited from equal parts embarrassment and happiness, and all that came out of me was a tiny little, "Honestly..." as a form of bashful cover.
Apparently, from the very beginning, everything had done nothing more than roll neatly in the palm of her hand.
While the sweet scent of her swaying tail and the words she whispered into my ear melted my brain into mush, she looked at me as if still unsatisfied and asked, almost coaxingly,
"...May I say it to you once more, just like I did back then?"
"..."
She said may I, but the tone of her voice made it obvious there was no room to refuse.
So I nodded quietly.
"When I grow up, please become my bride."
"...What if I said no?"
"Fufu. Then I'll keep courting you until you nod."
"Haah... honestly, I just can't win against you."
I raised both hands in surrender. When I said, I can't beat you, she answered, The same goes for me, and that only made my face hotter.
After I sat there in a daze for a while, she looked at me as though prompting me for an answer. So I lightly stroked her head the way one might soothe a beast and said,
"...When you grow up, okay? After graduation."
At that, her already sweet expression somehow turned even sweeter, like someone had dumped a mountain of sugar on top of a chocolate parfait. When she looked like that, it almost made her seem like an affectionate dog or cat—but that cute impression was overturned immediately.
The strength in the arms holding me loosened, and then a rain of teasing, feather-light kisses fell all over my body. The thought of what she'd do to me once she was fully grown sent yet another shiver through me, born from a mix of tiny expectation and tiny fear.
And when she called me Big Sister again at my ear for the first time in years, I honestly thought my heart might burst for several different reasons.
At the end of that rain—however many minutes it lasted—she knelt and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.
"...Thank you for coming to pick me up, my prince (Still)."
"The pleasure is mine, my princess (Trainer)."
That the kiss on the back of my hand meant more than mere respect is something I would only learn later.