Chapter Text
A bird was flying through the sky.
Crossing slowly through the pale, cloud-softened sky. Not a grand wing-beat, not showing off — just reading the wind, riding the wind, brushing gravity aside. In the light, the edge of those grey wings flashed white for a moment.
She looked at that ordinary sight, and thought: beautiful.
Just that — nothing more.
20XX, a certain day.
— A shockwave runs through Chuo Traincen Academy (specifically, certain of its students).
"…Hm?"
The first to notice the anomaly was Fenomeno, doing warm-up exercises on the slope early in the morning. A morning still barely deserving the name "spring." The air still cold enough to prick at the fingertips. Under a white sky, her exhaled breath blurred faintly white; the wind showed no mercy across her cheeks. Cheeks and nose flushed the same pink from the cold.
Just one more lap — she was psyching herself up when she found it. A figure walking, exhaling white breath. Stay Gold's trainer. A trench coat without a single crease — and over it, soft hair floating lightly in the breeze. Probably headed to the trainer's room. Even though her assigned Uma Musume was away on a long trip, she was the picture of diligence.
An ordinary, everyday sight.
— Except for one thing.
"Ah — that's—!"
Fenomeno saw it.
A thin silver ring on the trainer's left ring finger, catching the morning light with quiet brightness.
"…Huh?"
"…Excuse me?"
"…I beg your pardon!?"
The cafeteria corner was, for no obvious reason, more charged with tension than the changing rooms after morning practice.
There was Fenomeno first — sweat pouring from forehead to chin as if she hadn't just been running laps. Wiping it with a towel, but somehow generating more with each swipe.
"It is true. Definitely, without question, on the ring finger of the left hand (,,, the ring finger — the ring finger—"
Repeating herself like a broken metronome, stare locked on a single point, having apparently forgotten to blink.
Beside her, Gold Ship had produced a neon-pink party blower from somewhere.
Pip-pip-piii-pip-pip-pip — pii-ro-pi-ro (Hey, that's real, Mamechin.)
"Even you can't make yourself understood like that."
Nakayama Festa shot back immediately. But her own hands were a disaster — an explosion of mustard she'd put on too aggressively was covering her sausage bread like yellow lava. Wincing, she bit into it.
"Damn, that's too spicy."
"I don't think that's the point here…"
At the end of the table, Dream Journey calmly tilted a teapot. But the liquid pouring from it was already a nearly transparent, fully depleted color.
"That's your third time. You haven't swapped the tea leaves."
"…Oh, was that so…"
She answered placidly — while keeping her gaze fixed, sharp, on a single point. Across from her, Orfevre raised her cup with elegant dignity.
"…No flavor."
Pip-pii-ro-pii (Well obviously)
"I apologize, Orl. I was apparently somewhat agitated myself…"
"…It is not sister's fault."
Orfevre sniffed, and slowly re-crossed her legs.
"But — overreacting over a mere ring is excessive. You look pathetic."
Even as she said it, Orfevre's gaze was fixed squarely on the trainer's left hand. Nakayama Festa folded her arms and leaned back.
"…Could it be a misread?"
"It is not!! The sheen, the angle, that was absolutely a ring!!"
"She's not just a good nose, she's got good eyes too…"
Silence.
The same word floated in all of their heads simultaneously.
— Marriage. Wedding. Which side do we send the gift to.
Fenomeno's complexion went through several distinct color changes. The trainer had appeared in the cafeteria doorway.
Click, click — regular, measured heel sounds.
The trainer in question. The same trim suit as always, with a new light-colored blouse underneath that looked like spring. Holding papers, looking around with sleepy eyes.
"Good morning everyone. You're all making faces like pigeons hit with a pea-shooter — what happened?"
That one casual line dropped the room's temperature another degree.
Nobody could say: because of you.
Because—
Flash.
The left ring finger's slim simple ring caught the gentle morning light beautifully.
"THERE—!!"
Fenomeno jabbed a finger at the trainer with such force she sent her towel patting to the floor.
"Heyyy—"
Pip-pii…
Gold Ship's party blower deflated softly.
Dream Journey quietly set down her cup. Orfevre set hers down too, still silent.
"…Congratulations on your engagement."
It was Dream Journey who set down her spent tea and smiled pleasantly as she spoke.
A sharp move like a last-ditch sprint on the Nakayama final straight — a woman with the finest closing kick.
"She did it."
"She actually went for it."
"Sister…"
The trainer blinked once, then smiled softly.
"…Why did you think that?"
"Left hand, ring finger. I believe that typically carries that implication."
Precise and unhurried.
"May I ask who the other person is? Central stables? Or someone outside?"
Fenomeno's throat moved.
Nakayama Festa crossed her arms.
Gold Ship readied her party blower.
Orfevre narrowed her eyes to a sharp gleam.
Several seconds of silence.
And then.
The trainer smiled like a blooming flower.
"Correct. Good eyes."
Third ice age (triple callback).
"…No way…"
"C-correct?! Does that mean—"
Fenomeno's color went through another series of changes. The trainer, as if it was nothing, lightly held up her left hand. Stop making that bridal model pose!
Flash — glitter.
Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.
Gold Ship's party blower blew out fully extended.
"Oh — an engagement?!"
Pip-pii? (Konjac?)
"Hmm…"
"…Oh."
The cafeteria erupted.
"…Who is it?"
Dream Journey asked immediately. The smile didn't falter. But the light in her eyes shifted just slightly.
The trainer thought for a moment, then said it easily:
"Not central. An outsider."
"A racing industry connection?"
"Nope, not at all."
"Where did you meet?"
"A college acquaintance."
Not a single hesitation in any of it.
"How long as a couple?"
"A good while."
"When did it start?"
"Secret."
Light as a feather. Dropping bombs with the ease of putting one spoonful of sugar into tea. After the epicenter had been reduced to a smoking ruin, Fenomeno murmured quietly:
"D-does — Stay Gold — know…?"
The trainer's smile stopped for just the tiniest fraction.
"…No. She's traveling, right? I plan to tell her when she gets back."
Hush.
"…There's going to be blood in the air…"
No names. But everyone pictured the same face.
Stay Gold. Partner. Fellow traveler.
The trainer smiled awkwardly.
"Nothing will come of it. Because we're trainer and assigned Uma Musume. That's all."
Decisively. Leaving no room for follow-up.
But the fingers that stroked the ring — just that much — tightened.
Dream Journey calmly brought near-hot-water to her lips and said pleasantly:
"My sincerest congratulations."
"Thank you."
"…However."
"What?"
"I look forward to Anego's reaction upon her return."
The air went taut. The trainer glanced down for just an instant, then looked back up in her usual manner:
"She won't be angry. That girl."
Yes.
She won't be angry.
Surely.
— Surely she won't be angry.
The one person who wasn't quite convinced of that was — none other than myself.