Work Text:
"Arch your back more, Scarlet."
"Slow down, Vodka! Your hands are FREEZING!"
“Excuse me Miss Perfect, I didn’t realize you were so—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Excuse me then, Dai-wa-san.”
“Excuse yourself to go warm your hands up, Vod-ka-san.”
“Where am I supposed to put them?”
“I don’t care where, just—”
Twenty minutes earlier, the common room of the dorm had been quiet.
Gold Ship was on the floor trying to build an arch out of sugar cubes and toothpicks. Suzuka had a book open in her lap. Teio had a racing history magazine open and was narrating trivia about Prez at McQueen, who had not asked and was reviewing her class notes with a yellow highlighter. Special Week was three paragraphs into a letter to her mother about Tracen, mouthing each word before committing it to paper.
Then, nearly after curfew, Vodka and Daiwa hit the front doorframe. Normal training had been extended by a competitive argument that was still very much in progress.
Trainer, already zipping his coat, called over his shoulder that they'd run nine extra laps and owed a full recovery protocol: stretches, foam rolling, massages, and it was up to the rest of the team to make sure the two didn’t skip it. The door shut behind him.
Vodka and Daiwa stomped toward the back room. Since then, the muffled voices through the wall had started:
"Lower."
"That's your—"
"I said lower."
"We’ve been doing this for months, I know where the right place is."
"Clearly you DON'T."
Special Week stopped mid-sentence. She looked at the wall, then the room. "Oh, they're doing their recovery work?" She set her letter aside. "Is partner stretching really that much better than doing it alone? I've been doing my whole routine by myself."
The up-and-coming best horse girl in Japan hadn't been given a checklist on how to get there, but what Special Week lacked in traditional background, she made up for with her sheer enthusiasm to learn anything, in case it was the one thing that helped push her toward the promise she’d made to her mother.
"It's totally normal recovery stuff!" Teio said.
"It's just stretching," McQueen said.
They looked at each other.
"It's just normal stretching," they said, not quite at the same time.
"Totally normal," Teio added.
"Very standard," McQueen agreed.
"Very loud," Suzuka said, not looking up.
"So it works better with a partner?" Spe said. "Someone to help stretch you out?"
"Ya know she’s asking a good question." Gold Ship placed a sugar cube. "McQueen, you did the biomechanics module last semester. You should explain the science."
McQueen gave Gold Ship a flat look. She knew it was a trap. A Mejiro, however, excelled in academics as well as racing, and did not back down from an opportunity to demonstrate.
"The principle is straightforward," McQueen said. "In a passive partner stretch, one person remains relaxed while the other applies progressive force to extend the muscle past its resting length. The key is communication. The passive partner should vocalize—"
"Mmmh... yeah... hold it there, hold it... hhhhahh..."
"Good?"
"Mm. Don't move."
Gold Ship placed a sugar cube.
"—their feedback," McQueen finished. Her highlighter had traveled off the edge of the page and was now marking a slow yellow line across her thumb. She didn't notice.
Teio nodded. "McQueen is amazing at partner work. When we do our stretches I hold her for like a whole minute and she doesn't make a single sound the whole time, but then right at the very end, she does this one thing with her breath, and that's how I know I've hit the right spot—"
"Teio."
"What? I'm complimenting your control!"
McQueen set down her notes. "I do not make noises. That is entirely—"
"Do it the way McQueen does, hold right until—"
McQueen stilled.
"What, you want me to scream Teio's name so the whole building can hear?"
"...Why not? It works."
"Because she sounds like she's... you know."
"...Yeah."
“—false,” McQueen finished weakly.
"See?" Teio said. "You really do get into it, McQueen! That's what I was saying!"
"She really does," Gold Ship agreed. "Teio knows exactly where you need it, Big Mac."
"Don't call me— I-I must insist, that was a standard recovery session," McQueen said. "Teio was applying targeted pressure to a specific area. A Mejiro does not scream, I was simply providing appropriate vocal feedback as part of the proper recovery—"
In the middle of McQueen’s deflections, Gold Ship balanced a sugar cube on the end of a toothpick and flicked it like a catapult.
Without missing a beat, McQueen drew a ping pong paddle from somewhere in the couch cushions. She caught the sugar cube with a sharp backhand, and it exploded with a POOF into a cloud of white dust and crystals across the both of them.
Gold Ship hit the floor. "MY EYE! Ow ow ow,” she rolled, kicking her legs and grabbing her face.
McQueen went down one knee at a time, hand pressed over her eye.
"McQueen!" Teio dropped beside her. "Hold still, I've got it."
"I am perfectly— my eye is simply— OW. This is entirely—"
Teio cupped McQueen's face with both hands, thumbs on her cheekbones, and leaned in, blowing sugar grit from her eye. McQueen stopped talking.
Spe looked over, eyes wide with concern. “Is everything ok?”
“No, it exploded,” Suzuka said, looking at the crystalline collateral dusting the floor. "We’re going to get ants.”
Spe’s attention drifted back to the wall as the thumping resumed. "But how do they know what the other person needs?"
"If you trust the person..." Suzuka said. "You don't need to direct them. Just breathe. And let them find it."
Spe nodded. “I see, you’re so smart, Suzuka!” She counted off on her fingers. “So, trust the person, breathe, and let them find it. I’m going to remember that.”
"That is not— I meant the—"
"The physical connection you make with your partner?" Spe asked.
Suzuka closed her eyes.
Gold Ship smirked and opened her mouth.
"Don't," Suzuka said, eyes still closed.
Gold Ship closed her mouth. The smile didn't move.
"Okay, switch. My turn on top."
"Finally. My arms are dead."
"That's because you never commit, you just lay there until we’re almost finished."
“I’m a late surger, we save the best for last. That’s what we DO.”
Spe tilted her head. "On top of what?"
Everyone else glanced at each other.
"The foam roller," McQueen said.
"Her back," Teio said.
They looked at each other.
"The foam roller on her back," they said simultaneously.
"In partner stretching," McQueen continued, gripping her teacup, "one participant frequently positions herself above the other to apply downward pressure—"
"Nngh, right there, don't move don't move DON'T MOVE—"
"I'm not moving!"
"You're shaking!"
"Because YOU'RE shaking!"
McQueen set her teacup down and folded her hands in her lap. She looked composed and was not.
"McQueen," Spe said. "Since it's so effective, would you do partner stretches with me sometime?"
McQueen blinked. She slowly opened her mouth. "I would be... honored to assist a junior team member... with any standard... recovery... protocol."
"I can help!" Teio volunteered. "I hold the forward bend record at Tracen, I can show you everything!"
Gold Ship placed a sugar cube. "Teio can fold completely in half. Very useful in partnered work."
Teio beamed. McQueen put her face in her hands.
"Hold my leg up. Higher."
"It IS up."
"Higher."
"THERE?"
"There. Hold it."
A slow breath in. Slower out.
"Scarlet, you always make that sound when I get this one."
"I do not—"
"Every time. Right when I hit the—"
"Vodka, SHUT UP and hold my leg."
Gold Ship placed a sugar cube. "She does. Unmistakable. Like a foghorn in the night."
"Gold Ship," McQueen said.
"They share a wall with me. I'm a light sleeper." She didn't elaborate.
"Don't let go."
"I'm not."
"You let go last time."
"Because you KICKED me."
"Because your hand slipped—"
"It did NOT slip. I know your body. I know exactly where I was."
A crash, a yelp, scuffling.
Then nothing. Five seconds. Ten.
Gold Ship stood up quietly, crossed the room, and pressed her ear flat against the shared wall.
"Gold Ship." McQueen was on her feet. "Step away from that wall."
"I'm conducting an acoustic survey. The Golshi radar can detect—"
McQueen crossed the room, took Gold Ship by the back of her collar, and pulled her away from the wall.
"McQueen, that's a really firm grip," Gold Ship said, not resisting. "No wonder Teio makes that sound."
"Sit. Down."
Gold Ship sat.
"...You okay?"
"...Yeah."
"...Foam roller?"
"Foam roller."
"Did something fall?" Spe asked.
"Foam roller," Suzuka replied, without hesitation.
"What is THAT."
"New foam roller. Trainer picked it up."
"Why is it so big. That is twice the length of the one we—"
"It's the full-size. Better coverage."
"And why is it— are those SPIKES."
"They're knobs. Deeper stimulation."
"I don't WANT deeper stimulation. I want the regular one."
"The regular one's twelve inches. This gives you twenty-four. You're telling me you can't handle—"
"I can HANDLE it, I'm saying I PREFER—"
"Just try it."
"...Fine."
Three seconds.
"...It's. A lot."
"Relax into it."
"I AM—"
"You're tensing. Let it work."
A long exhale. Then the chunky thump-thump-thump of the knobbed roller catching on the hardwood, slower than before.
Spe listened to all of it. She looked at the foam roller she kept beside the couch. Twelve inches, smooth, plain. She looked at the wall, then at the foam roller again.
"Is mine too small?—"
Teio made a sound.
"—Scarlet-san said deeper stimulation is better. Should I be using a longer one? With texture?"
McQueen wanted to say something about the Mejiro training facilities and their foam rollers in six lengths, three densities, and a laminated texture chart. She realized there was no version of that sentence that didn't make things worse.
"There are different sizes for different applications," McQueen began carefully. "Length depends on the muscle group. Texture depends on your sensitivity."
"What do you use?"
"I prefer eighteen-inches with a ridge pattern."
Gold Ship looked up. "Ribbed."
"Ridged."
"What's the difference?" Spe asked.
"The difference," McQueen said, "is surface geometry. Ribbed implies uniform circumferential grooves. Ridged indicates a longitudinal—"
"McQueen uses the ribbed one," Gold Ship said. "I've seen it in her room."
"I use the ridged one and you have seen nothing—"
Gold Ship turned to Suzuka. "You're a front runner. Dense muscles. You must use a big one."
"I stretch without equipment."
"Nothing? Just your body?"
"Just my body."
“So I should try a longer foam roller, with the knobs?” Spe said. “And Suzuka-san just uses her body. No equipment at all.” She looked at Suzuka with open admiration. “That’s so natural.”
Suzuka turned a page, nearly ripping it in the process.
The thumping from the back room had settled into a steady rhythm.
"Try it from this angle. Suzuka showed me after the relay."
"...Suzuka?"
"After the relay, she showed me—"
"Since when are you doing it with Suzuka?"
"Since she’s a front-runner and I'm a front-runner, so she understands fatigue from early speed."
"Great. Do it your Suzuka way, then."
"I'm trying to, if you'd hold still."
"I AM holding still."
"You're not."
In the common room, every head had turned to Suzuka.
Suzuka did not look up, but her ears flattened and color dusted her cheeks.
"OW, not THERE—"
"You MOVED—"
"Well why don't you call Suzuka in here if she does it so much better?"
"Because Suzuka isn't in this room with me right now."
"So you'd have her do it if she were."
"No, just— stop being difficult and get on your back, Vodka."
A muffled thump.
"...Do that again."
"So she was right."
"...Yeah yeah Scarlet. Don't let it go to your head."
“Sounds like Suzuka could crack a coconut with those hands.” Gold Ship’s voice was easy. “Spe, as roommates, you and Suzuka could do it every night before bed. Lights low so the muscles relax.”
“That’s a great idea!” Spe turned to Suzuka. “We could start tonight! Right after baths, when we’re already—”
“...Maybe later.” Suzuka’s eyes stayed on the page.
“But Gold Ship said you have great hands!”
“I have… hands.” Her thumb had stopped moving along the margin.
“After the 800 last week you found that spot behind my knee I didn’t even know about.” Spe was sitting forward now, hands in her lap. “I couldn’t walk right for two days. We should do that again.”
“Ooh, I could help you with that!” Teio said. “With my flexibility, I can get into all kinds of—”
Suzuka’s book closed with a thump. “I’ll do it.”
Teio stopped. Suzuka was looking at her. Her voice had no hesitation in it.
“I hold the forward bend record at Tracen,” Teio repeated.
“She’s my roommate.”
“I can fold completely in half!”
“She’s comfortable with me.” Suzuka’s tail flicked. “It should be someone she trusts.”
“I’m trustworthy! Spe, tell her—”
“I should be the one to help Spe-chan.”
‘Spe-chan’ McQueen mouthed.
Gold Ship placed a sugar cube on her nearly-finished arch.
“After baths,” Suzuka continued. The flush was in her cheeks but her voice was steady. “When we’re already... it’s the best time. The muscles are warm.”
McQueen looked at Suzuka. Then at Teio, who was now arguing about hamstring angles. Then at Spe, who was delighted. Then at Gold Ship, who had not said a word in two minutes and hadn’t needed to.
“Suzuka, you’re the best!” Spe said. “Tonight after baths?”
“...Tonight works.” Suzuka was now staring at the cover of her book.
"Can you not SHOUT—"
“The walls are thick, nobody can hear us.”
Spe looked at the thin wall. "So it's a feedback loop? You apply pressure, they vocalize, you adjust, and you keep going until you find the right spot—"
McQueen put her forehead on the table, right in the middle of her notes and still-wet highlighter marks.
“That’s— perhaps a more elegant phrasing would be—”
“Exactly, Spe,” Gold Ship interrupted, nodding sagely.
"Right there right there right there..."
"Yeah?"
"Don't stop."
“McQueen was saying that to Teio last week too,” Gold Ship added.
McQueen’s head snapped up. "That was completely different.”
Gold Ship didn't look up from her arch.
"It was shoulder recovery with my rival,” McQueen continued. “In the training facility. During scheduled hours. And I said 'don't stop applying—'" She heard the shape of the sentence she was building and closed her mouth.
"Context matters," McQueen said stiffly.
"Absolutely," Gold Ship agreed. "Context is everything. That’s what the avalanche said to the mountain."
"Ow. OW. Your ELBOW—"
"You asked for deep tissue."
"I didn't think you'd— hhh..."
"God, Scarlet, you're so tight."
"Because SOMEONE didn't warm me up—"
"What do you need."
"Harder. And don't stop until I—"
The end of that sentence was not a word.
McQueen walked to the kitchen, filled a mug from the tap, and stood holding it. Cold water.
"There is a highlighter on your face," Suzuka said.
McQueen touched her jaw. Yellow came away on her fingers.
"Oh GOD, right there, no, left, YOUR left, YES—"
"Would you hold STILL—"
"I CAN'T hold still when you're— ahhHHH..."
A thud. A secondary thud, as of a body rolling off a mat onto a hardwood floor.
"...You good?"
"...Do it again."
Teio was no longer at the table. She was on the floor near Spe, touching her toes. "See, Spe? If you train this every day, you can eventually get your whole palm flat. Like this."
"Wow, Teio, that's amazing! Can you go further?"
"Watch." Teio folded forward until her forehead touched her shins. "I hold the record at Tracen. Nobody else can get past their ankles."
Suzuka’s book was still closed in her lap but she was now sitting on Spe’s side of the couch. She had slipped over at some point without being noticed.
"Okay. Last one. This is gonna be the big one."
"What do you mean ‘the big one’?!"
"Just trust me. Breathe in—"
"I swear if this—"
"Breathe IN—"
"I’m breathing!"
"Now—"
"…hhHHNNNngh…"
"…Wow."
"…Told you."
"I can’t feel my legs."
"That means it worked."
"Not a word about that. To anyone."
"I’m telling literally everyone."
"VODKA—"
Whatever followed was quieter, eliciting only low murmurs and the sound of breathing and a mat shifting.
"…Okay?"
"Mm."
"…Tell me if—"
"I know. Just go."
Teio was demonstrating a hip flexor stretch for Spe that required one leg behind her head. "And if your partner holds your knee here, and pushes down slowly, you can feel it all the way through your everything!"
“Oh wow, Teio, you’re super flexible!”
Suzuka was now sitting close enough to Spe that their shoulders were nearly touching.
"Spe doesn’t need you for that." Suzuka’s voice was quiet. "She has me."
Teio’s head came up. "What do you mean she has you? I’m the one with the record."
"I know how she moves." Suzuka was not looking at Teio. She was looking at Spe. "I know when she tenses. Where she holds it. You’d push too hard."
"I would NOT push too hard! Spe, tell her—"
"Suzuka does know my body pretty well," Spe said thoughtfully.
Suzuka’s cheeks colored.
"I can learn anyone’s body in ONE session!" Teio said.
"It’s not about sessions." Suzuka said. "You have to pay attention to how someone breathes."
McQueen’s tail swished once. A flash of pink caught her eye.
She reached behind herself. A ribbon. Pink satin. Tied in a neat bow around the base of her tail.
McQueen went very still. Gold Ship was three feet away, placing a sugar cube with both hands, face composed.
“Gold Ship.”
“McQueen.”
“What is on my tail.”
“It suits you.”
McQueen lunged at her but, Gold Ship was already moving. The chase went around the couch, McQueen’s heel caught the sugar-cube arch, and an hour’s worth of carefully constructed sucrose engineering collapsed across the hardwood in a spray of cubes and splinters. Gold Ship went down in the wreckage and sugar scattered to every corner of the room.
“…God.”
“Yeah.”
“…How do you always… every time, you—”
“I pay attention.”
Five seconds.
“…If you tell ANYONE about the noise I just made—”
“Scar, the whole dorm heard.”
“Don’t CALL me— we are JUST—”
“You’re still shaking.”
“I am NOT—”
“You are. And you’re welcome.”
The back room door opened.
Vodka came out first, pulling her hair tie loose and shaking her hair out. Flushed to the collarbones, jacket half off, tank top ridden up on one side. She went to the fridge, took a water bottle, and drank most of it standing, breathing through her nose between swallows.
Daiwa followed ten seconds later. Her hair was down. Daiwa’s hair was never down in common spaces. Her collar was dark with sweat. She walked with the careful, bowlegged gait of someone whose legs had been pulled in directions legs prefer not to go. She took the water bottle from Vodka’s hand without asking, finished it, and leaned against the counter.
They looked at the common room.
Teio was on the floor in a full split, one leg behind her head. Spe was kneeling beside her, fascinated. Suzuka was on the couch directly behind Spe, book closed, looking at Teio with thinly-veiled hostility.
“—and THAT is why flexibility is the key to miracles!”
“Bending Spe’s leg like that is going to hurt her and make her cry.”
“Miracles MAKE people cry! Because they’re beautiful!”
“Spe, I’ll show you my way tonight… tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine! You both have really different techniques, this is so educational—”
McQueen was on her knees in the wreckage of the sugar-cube arch, pink ribbon still in her tail, breathing hard. Gold Ship was flat on her back in a field of sugar cubes and toothpick splinters, grinning and mumbling about a sunken ship.
Daiwa looked down as a sugar cube crunched underfoot. She sighed.
“...This is how we get ants.”
Nobody answered. Teio kept stretching. Suzuka kept watching. Spe kept asking questions. McQueen got to her feet, walked to the kitchen, and stood there.
Vodka took a long look at the room. “What happened here?”
McQueen said nothing. Gold Ship raised one hand from the floor and waved.
Daiwa looked at Teio on the floor. At Suzuka on the couch. At Spe, who was now asking Suzuka about the spot behind her knee. At McQueen, who was standing in the kitchen staring at a wall. At the pink ribbon.
“We were gone for less than an hour,” Daiwa said.
“Forty-seven minutes, but who’s counting!” Gold Ship said. She stood, brushed sugar from her hair, and walked to her room. At the door she turned.
“McQueen. The ribbon looks nice.”
McQueen reached behind herself, ripped it off, and threw it on the floor.
“Beautiful evening,” Gold Ship said, and shut her door.
McQueen returned to the table, trying to salvage her notes. Teio’s explanation of miracles and Prez-inspired stretching routines found a new audience in Daiwa and Vodka.
Spe returned to her letter and added one final line.
I really love this team.
Later that night, after baths, when the lights were dimmed, muffled voices could be heard from another room:
“Okay, how do we start, Suzuka-san?”
“...Lie down, Spe.”
“Like this?”
“...Yes.”