Chapter Text
Tracen Academy. It’s the dream destination for all umamusume in Japan. Sticking out like a sore thumb in Tokyo, its sheer size eclipses all other schools in the area. True to its prestige, the numerous training facilities are top-notch. Training privileges and scheduling are tightly controlled so that the entire student body can have equal opportunity for each avenue. This way, the school always seems to have just enough space everywhere.
Those who need a bit more strength training can always find the weights they need. The swimming pools never feel like they’re completely occupied. A treadmill is always waiting to be used. However, the most desired training area is always at the track fields.
No better place to train than on the track itself. It’s a trainer’s favorite too as they get to theorize new strategy while also monitor their trainees’ conditioning. Not to mention its status as a hot spot for watching your classmates run to their heart's content. Is there anything more to ask out of the sacred tracks? For Jungle Pocket, that answer is yes.
Pocket remembered how she used to find her senpais on the communal tracks and asked them to train together. Running along side another was also better than alone. Small scale scrimmages can be completed in groups so it always helped to have partners. And yet, Pocket was not satisfied with just that. She wanted to go all out. All that hot blooded energy in her couldn’t wait for the big races. She always asked for showdowns with anyone nearby.
- - -
“All right. All right. Racers, get ready!” Jungle Pocket stood next to the makeshift starting gates at one of Tracen’s smaller track fields. Her hand holding onto a string. Six umamusumes were in those gates, readying up and getting into their stances. All of them with their eyes forward, waiting for the inevitable. Pocket heard nothing, but felt the cool evening air turn hot. She pulls the string. Simultaneously, every gate opened. The six umas began to run down the field. Cheers and wallops entered into her ear as a large crowd had gathered by the track railings to watch the race. Pocket watched on and monitored the racers closely. On her hip was a holstered walkie talkie, she lifted it to her mouth.
“How are they looking, Dantsu?” She spoke into the radio.
“Looking clean, Pokke-chan. I think Scarlet-chan is gonna take it. Unless… ooh! Vodka-kun is surging!” Dantsu Flame reported back to Pocket. She was at the finish line, monitoring the oncoming racers.
“It’s Scarlet-chan!! NO VODK- SCARLET!!! W-woah… Good run everybo- Oh-oh!! Sorry Pokke-chan. You can start getting the next racers in the gates!” Dantsu Flame finished reporting back.
“All right! Those who signed up for the second race come around.” Pocket announced back to the group of umas behind her.
“Yes Pocket-senpai!” One Uma had responded.
“Thank you for organizing this, senpai!” Another had complimented. Pocket blushed, but kept her composure. Just as before, she got all the participants into their assigned starting gate and started a new race.
Like her precious senpai, Fuji Kiseki, Pocket had become a notable pillar of the Tracen community. As the twilight of Pocket’s Twinkle series career came and went, she still wished to partake in those pick up races she held dear. One day, she offered a proposal to the student council. She wanted to have more scrimmages at Tracen. Unlike pick up races, these would closely emulate actual races. That would mean that there's a slight competitiveness to them that you cannot find in pick ups. With their blessing, Pocket's weekly scrimmage races began every friday evening.
Like all things at Tracen, it was full of rules. Signing up was done a week in advance. All participants needed to have permission from their trainers. Sign ups were done at the school’s bulletin board at the main hall in a first come first served basis. Most importantly, Pocket was to be in charge and she'd need to have a crew to set up and handle the issues.
Pocket soldiered on past those rules. She still remembered fondly how the first time the sign up paper on the bulletin board was put up. It only took an afternoon for it to be filled with names. It started with one race scheduled, then another when demand grew. And then another. Soon enough, Pocket found herself scheduling multiple races a week.
There were a few hiccups that she had to deal with. One was handling the crew. Poor Dantsu Flame was roped in to help her around and handle any medical emergencies. Another was handling the racers themselves. Turns out, the scrims were a very good place to handle rivalries and Pocket had to contain the fiery ones. Whatever happened, Pocket always managed to find a solution. There was just one problem that she failed to resolve. She was too busy to run her own races.
- - -
“I am so so so so so sorry, Pokke-chan!” Dantsu Flame spoke to Pocket. The former was bowing at an impressive angle, Pocket couldn't even see her face anymore.
The sunset began. The scrims for the evening have concluded. The spectators have started walking back to their dorms. The participants from the last race lagging behind due to fatigue. Curfew was settling in soon, but there's enough time to let the students walk from the tracks. As the event organizers, Pocket and Dantsu were given special privileges to be late to curfew in case it took them too much time to fix the tracks and put everything away.
“Really, it's just for this weekend! I-I have an early appointment tomorrow for this check up that I have...” Dantsu Flame had something come up that required her to head to bed early. Pocket can tell she's lying about a check up. She already knew Dantsu had scored early bird tickets to a new restaurant that's opened. “Will you be all right handling everything tonight?”
“Mmmmm.... It's no big deal. Not like I'll get in trouble for taking too long, yeah?” Pocket delivered her answer with a big smile. She was technically staff now, so nobody can really tell her to leave the premises. The idea of being out just a bit longer was also quite inviting. It's been ages since she's had the track all to herself.
“Come on, Dantsu. Stop bowing already, it's making my own back hurt looking at you. If it's important to you, you should start heading off then. Thanks for your hard work today. Always appreciate it.” Pocket helped her stand back upright and sent her off. They both waved at one another until Dantsu turned around.
Cleaning up after the event was not a gargantuan task for Pocket. She inspected the track and the spectator area to see if anything was damaged. She found some junk where the spectators were around and stuffed them in a plastic bag. The makeshift starting gates needed to be removed, which thankfully was easy as they came with hind wheels so all Pocket was lift it from one side and drag it back to the nearest storage area. It was a significant distance to bring it back in, but Pocket never minded the effort. 'That's strength training, baby!' she told herself.
The only thing that was left to do was the paper work delivery. It had to be brought back into the faculty room. What made this one tricky was the roundabout path needed to actually reach said room. The sun no longer shined around the academy and that usually meant that the doors connecting the school grounds to the school back entrances were closed. Pocket might feel like staff, but without a key she's not yet reached full privileges. She began her journey with a brisk walk.
“Where did it go so wrong?” Pocket said aloud, to no one but herself. She was reaching the far end of one wing of the school. “Mnnnggg... maybe next time I can...”
Pocket took a glance at the paper in her hands. She flipped them over until she got to the sign up sheets. She was happy to see the sheets filled up every week. It meant that the other students shared her vision of competitive fire. She just wished that she shared a spot in those races too.
Pocket folded all the paper and held them between her fingers. She placed her free hand on her nape and massaged it. She increased her pace, hoping to get the job done faster. And yet, she turned around to take one last look at Tracen's track fields. The dimly lit track fields contrasted well with the unlit Tracen main building. She let her eyes adjust to the low lighting. They were inviting. Agonizingly so.
Yet, duty comes first. She turned around to face the building and continue her journey. When she looked back at the main building, a small blessing presented itself. A window that was brightly lit with its blinds moving slowly. Had she not looked at the lights behind her, she probably wouldn't have noticed this one. As she started to get closer, she realized an opportunity presents itself. The window was actually open, she can enter it and keep her travel brief. The window looked to be connected to a classroom, but classes were finished for the day.
“Maybe a club meet?” Pocket muttered as she stood right at the window. She weighed her options. Stay out in the dark or interrupt whatever's happening in that classroom.
“Beats walking all the way 'round.” Pocket shrugged. The awkwardness is only for a moment and she'd be on her merry way out of the classroom. She knocked on the window pane lightly to alert the opposite side of her presence. She grabbed the blinds and pushed them aside.
“Heyo! Mind if I walk in real quick? Just passing through to get to faculty.” Pocket spoke softly as not to startle whoever she found in the room.
She found only a single umamusume. She remembered her very intimately. This was the one umamusume that Pocket can't forget. She had not yet registered Pocket's presence, fixated on her laptop. She had an awful posture atop an ergonomic desk chair. The classroom, if she can call it that, was just as was when she last visited. It was like visiting a museum piece from the past. When Pocket's mind settled back to present day, she realized that the lone girl finally noticed her. Her lackadaisical stare aimed at Pocket, yet she wasn't fully there either.
“Oh..... Shoot.” That was all Pocket can respond with when you have the attention of the Mad Scientist of Tracen, Agnes Tachyon.
Agnes Tachyon, in turn, blinked quickly three times before widening her eyes. Then she narrowed her eyes, analyzing the face at the window. Just making sure it was real and not the effects of any drug she's made.
“What the fuck?” was all Tachyon could say.