Chapter Text
The Japan Umamusume Training Center Academy, Tokyo, Japan: Tracen Academy.
The premiere choice of the country, promising young umamusume from around the world gathered here to train as racers, their hearts filled with dreams of glory found in the Twinkle Series. Here, the days would be spent together with their schoolmates, their bodies and minds trained rigorously for the chance to turn those dreams into a reality.
Whether any of them would be amongst the few to succeed, to be able to turn the sparks inside them into bright stars in the sky, remained to be seen.
On campus, situated right in the middle of the main building’s front courtyard, stood a stone statue of the Three Goddesses. Per school tradition, countless students had visited it over the years: once at the beginning of their journeys, to inherit and carry on the dreams of legends past, and another at the end of their Senior year, to entrust their own dreams to those yet to come.
Caramel Crisp was not quite one for tradition, though.
Sure, she was standing right in front of the statue right now, but it wasn’t out of some desire to “inherit and carry on dreams” or whatever of the sort. Rather, she was simply idling around the area while she waited for time to pass; it was still quite a while before her turn in the tryouts, and the courtyard was quiet at this moment.
Thus, it was through this sense of boredom that the new student found herself facing the Three Goddesses statue, her arms akimbo as her amber eyes continued to gaze idly upon it. She watched as water flowed from the jugs each goddess figure held in their arms, splashing onto the sides of the round, stone-shaped base before finally ending up in the pool below.
A gentle wind blew through the courtyard. The light-brown hair of the aptly-named umamusume, short, fairly messy, with a ponytail tied on the right, fluttered a little in the breeze; the blue, sparkling hairpin below her right ear glistened in the sunlight.
There were stories surrounding the statue, she had heard: stories that the Three Goddesses themselves channeled their presence through it, and that any visiting umamsume of the right heart, in their times of greatest need, would be blessed by them. As the word went, past legends had apparently achieved their successes through these blessings.
To that, Caramel smirked. If those runners had to rely on “blessings”, did they really win? What would that mean for a runner that trained hard every day, only for them to lose simply because someone else was “blessed" and they were not? If the Three Goddesses truly dished out divine blessings like that, then that wouldn't exactly be fair, would it?
That couldn’t be allowed to stand. The girl raised a hand to point at the statue.
“I don't need your help,” she declared, a bold grin on her face. “I'll get there on my own.”
The statue remained silent.
A few passing students, eyeing the scene with a mix of curiosity and puzzlement, quietly walked on.
Satisfied with herself, Caramel put her hand down and checked her watch. It seemed that it was the right time for her to leave; picking her bag up, she moved and headed off in the direction of the track.
In all honesty, Tracen hadn't initially been what Caramel Crisp was thinking about when it came to starting her racing career. Born and raised in the United States, her family being relocated to Japan over a business opportunity meant that she had spent the latter half of her life thus far in the Land of the Rising Sun. She was integrated into the Japanese societal ecosystem by this point; that being said, Caramel had mused over the idea of returning to the States for her budding racing career, a sort of a “grand return” to her roots where she would tear up the competition and claw her way to the top. After considering several factors, however, she eventually came around to the decision that staying in the country that had become her home was the better option. Besides, she figured that she could still race in America if she still wished to in the future.
Thus, here she was now. Not just a freshly-minted student of some regional running school, but of Tracen Academy, home of the greatest running athletes in the country. That meant something, and this was the start of her greatness.
But of course, being accepted was the easy part.
Now in her trackwear, Caramel eyed the stands as she went through her stretches. Even though this wasn't the first scrimmage of the day, the crowd size was still not unsubstantial: trainers still lined up in rows, already poised to jump the railings and make a mad dash towards those that they saw potential in; banners with names and pictures on them indicate the presence of fans, friends and families, present to cheer on their runners; the brunette can also see a few professional cameras in the distance, likely reporters keeping up with the story of rising stars.
The only thing the brunette was concerned about now was the race, though.
Her stretches were done. Caramel dusted off the front of her shirt, immediately being reminded of the number cloth she was wearing.
Seven. Out of eleven runners in this anticlockwise mile run, this was a decent position.
As the announcement was made and her competitors moved towards the gate, Caramel closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Her eyes flicked open, a cold seriousness radiating from her focused gaze. Eyeing her spot in the gate, the umamusume walked calmly into it, the door shutting behind her once she was in.
The brunette took up her starting position and waited, gaze fixed forward.
Her ears picked up the various sounds around her.
She waited for the one that mattered.
The sounds of gates closing stopped as all her competitors got into position.
Her world went quiet.
Each moment that passed was filled with anticipation.
Bang!
Her cleats digging firmly into the ground beneath her, Caramel Crisp launched forward upon hearing the starting gun, her arms barely missing the front gate as it opened.
It was a good start. As Caramel felt the presence of her competitors around her, she adjusted her pace accordingly, gauging her optimal position. From the corner of her eye, she could see some of the other umamusume pull forward. She couldn't tell just yet which competitors had frontrunning as their strategies, and which were simply wasting their energy showing off to the crowd.
Either way, she was going to get them all.
Caramel managed to maintain her position on the first straight, adjusting her position as the pack ahead moved around. She picked up her pace a little, trying to edge her way closer as she saved her energy for as much as she could.
As the left corner came up, the brunette quickly checked her surroundings. She could see six competitors ahead of her; as it stood, she was positioned about a length behind the umamusume directly ahead of her, and Caramel had positioned herself towards the right to avoid being blocked. However, she could feel someone slowly pulling up on her right flank.
This wasn't good.
As the brunette made the left turn, a major weakness in her running form revealed itself. The gap ahead widened; the girl to her right flank caught up to the side and pressed in as Caramel struggled to maintain her speed through the corner. By the halfway mark of the corner, the one on the right was already a little bit ahead, and Caramel could feel ninth place sizing up to her from the inside.
This wasn't good at all.
The others were picking up their paces, and Caramel could feel that familiar instability in herself as she pushed her cornering to its limit. She watched the pack ahead; some of the frontrunners were already falling back substantially, their energy misspent early in the race. More crucially, one of them was right in front of Caramel’s path.
Frustration welled up inside the brunette as the corner straightened out and she was blocked. The girl on the right had already overtaken her and was already half a length ahead.
Seeing no other alternative, Caramel repositioned as quickly as she could all the way to the right; the gap ahead widened as she tried her best to salvage her already-compromised final sprint.
But when that was done, there was nobody ahead.
This was it.
All that energy she had been saving for this moment was finally unleashed in its full strength, down her legs, through her cleats and into the ground. It was like weights had been lifted off her; Caramel Crisp charged ahead, the gaps in front of her beginning to close at remarkable speed.
Eighth. The girl that had blocked her ahead.
Seventh.
Sixth.
Fifth. The one that had been on her right.
Fourth.
Ahead, Caramel could see the top three. The brunette kept running; the gap continued to shrink.
She was faster.
She was so much faster.
Third.
And just at that moment, the remaining two ahead slowed down together.
And for the first time since the start of the final stretch, Caramel Crisp blinked. Her gaze, locked forward in a sharp glare, finally broke away as she slowed to a jog as well, her dried eyes immediately embracing the relief of dampness from her eyelids.
Her head swiveled to the standing board.
Third to second was a length and half away. Second to first was half away.
Caramel gritted her teeth as she stopped, bending over as she caught her breath. Her legs were somewhat numb from exertion.
She had the pace. She had the speed. And yet, she lost because some idiot, a backmarker that probably could not even qualify for a debut race, decided to waste her energy early and ended up blocking her. Of course she had to pay for someone else’s sheer ineptitude.
She turned her head back to glare at the runner in question. It wasn't noticed.
Neither was she, by the crowd of trainers that had surrounded the first and second place runners.
All the brunette could do was frown in silence.
The moment the runners crossed the finish point, the chaos began as trainers, already eyeing their potential candidates, eagerly leapt over the fences and rushed over to the girls.
Still seated on the stands, though, was an exception.
The man in question leaned forward, resting his hands on his legs. His gaze remained on someone else that had caught his attention.
“Number 7 it is, then?”
“She shows promise,” the trainer replied to his trainee. “Her running form can use some work, though.”
“I noticed as well,” the grey-haired umamusume standing beside him agreed. “For a moment I thought she was going to fall over halfway through the corner.”
“And was struggling while repositioning too. But that sheer speed and power is something. Kind of like an opposite to you during your tryouts, actually,” the man turned to look at the girl.
“I see what you mean,” the girl smiled in return. “I've gotten better since, with your help.”
“You did,” the man replied as he stood up. “Let's go meet your new teammate then. Hopefully. Before someone else poaches her,” he noted as he moved, turning his head to look at his candidate of choice.
“Well, you were the one sitting around,” his trainee commented as she followed along. “I've been ready to go whenever.”