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Whenever Special Week, Silence Suzuka, Tokai Teio, and Mejiro McQueen shared a table, getting through breakfast without an attempted homicide was already a challenge. Usually, the topic of conversation was either the inherent moral failings of chestnuts or the 1992 Tenno Sho Spring.
Manhattan Cafe somehow made things even more complicated.
“The resemblance is striking,” McQueen said, slowly licking yogurt off her spoon and maintaining eye contact with Manhattan Cafe the entire time. “You have her thighs.”
Spe choked. “What?!”
“Eyes.” McQueen cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea. “You have Sunday Silence’s eyes.”
“...Thank you?” Cafe said.
“Oh no,” Suzuka whispered.
“McQueen,” Spe began. “Could you please not do whatever this is?”
“What am I doing?”
“The voice, for one.”
“You will have to be more specific.”
“You sound like you’re taking a silk glove off with your teeth.”
McQueen looked at Cafe’s gloved hands. “Hm. Do I?”
Cafe shoved her hands under the table.
“Hey, guys!” Teio returned with a plate full of food. She paused. “Manhattan Cafe. That’s my seat—”
“I invited her to join us. You can sit over there,” McQueen said, gesturing toward the empty seat between Spe and Suzuka.
Teio eyed it. “Between them?”
“They’ll behave,” McQueen said, taking a sip of her tea.
“Will you?” Spe asked.
“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about.” McQueen watched Cafe’s hands return to the table and lift her coffee. “How interesting,” she said, eyeing Cafe’s mouth as she drank. “You know, Sunday Silence reminded me of coffee.”
“Oh?”
McQueen nodded. “Very astringent. Until given ample cream.”
Cafe’s face scrunched up as she looked at the coffee in her hands. She set it down.
“Too bitter?” McQueen asked.
“No, it just...”
“Needs something sweet, hm?” McQueen looked down at her own cup. “I agree.”
Cafe politely nudged the sugar bowl over toward McQueen.
McQueen nudged it back. “Not what I meant.”
Spe groaned. Suzuka stared at the ceiling.
Teio watched the exchange, quiet and still except for the agitated flicks of her tail.
“You knew Sunday Silence,” Cafe said.
“Cafe,” Spe said. “Don’t encourage this.”
“Yes.” McQueen nodded. “We knew everything about each other.”
“I see,” Cafe said.
“Everything.”
“...I see.”
“You very much resemble her,” McQueen said, slowly looking Cafe up and down. “You have her conformation.”
“...So I’ve been told.”
“Stop.” Spe cut in. “Whatever this is, stop.”
“What?” McQueen asked innocently.
“You’re hitting on her because she looks like our sire,” Suzuka said.
McQueen scoffed and put a hand to her chest. “What an accusation. I’m being polite.”
“You were making eye contact while licking yogurt off a spoon,” Spe reminded her.
“Well.” McQueen smiled at Cafe. “I do have excellent oral coordination.”
Teio made a small noise like a teakettle boiling dry.
“Besides,” McQueen continued. “That hardly means anything. Half of Japan is related to you. Sunday was quite busy. Such pedigree...”
Spe pointed a fork at McQueen. “That still doesn’t mean you can use her as a proxy!”
“I would never,” McQueen said. “Cafe herself is already acquainted with the Mejiro family. At multiple levels.”
“...I have some familiarity,” Cafe said into her coffee.
“You certainly do.” McQueen rested her chin on her hand. “And you’re hardly innocent in that regard, Spe. Dober has told me about the both of you.”
“What Cafe and I did with Mejiro Dober is—” Spe flushed. “Our prior occupations are irrelevant, McQueen! We’re anime girls now.”
“Oh?” McQueen tilted her head. “So you don’t care for Dober anymore?”
“That’s not what I—”
“Black and white,” McQueen continued, turning to Cafe. “We go together just like coffee and—”
“McQueen, stop! You’re being weird!” Teio snapped.
“I am not.”
“You are!” Teio stood. “You were always weird at the farm with Sunday—”
“She was good—”
“—company! Yeah! You always say that! You’d always go out to pasture with her and now you’re looking at Cafe like you want to cover her instead of—” Teio paused.
“Instead of what, Teio?” McQueen asked.
“Instead of me!”
Everyone was quiet. Teio’s face went red.
“I mean, not necessarily me.”
Everyone remained quiet.
“But not necessarily not me.”
Spe’s forehead hit the table.
Teio’s voice climbed an octave. “I mean it doesn’t have to be me but it could be!”
Suzuka stood abruptly. “I’m leaving.”
“Suzuka, don’t—” Spe watched her leave. “Tch. Cowardly chestnut.”
“Oh, Teio,” McQueen said, turning toward her.
“Don’t ‘oh Teio’ me.”
“It was sweet.”
“I’m going to the glue factory.”
“It was.”
“I’m going to the glue factory and taking you with me.”
McQueen reached across the table and took Teio’s hand.
Teio glared at their joined fingers.
“For what it’s worth,” McQueen said, “I never looked at Sunday the way I look at you.”
Teio glanced up. “Really?”
“Really,” McQueen said, a smile beginning to escape her. “Usually when I look at you, I’m wondering how someone so small could cause so much property damage.”
Teio ripped her hand away. “Break a leg.”
“There she is.”
Teio stood and stormed off.
“She doesn’t mean it,” McQueen said, watching Teio leave. “So, Cafe, since it’s just the two of us now—”
“I’m still here,” Spe said.
McQueen gave Spe a pointed look.
“No, McQueen, I’m not leaving Cafe alone with you, you— you pedigree-pervert.”
“Hm.” McQueen turned. “Cafe, perhaps we might continue this conversation sometime. In private. Tonight.”
Spe turned. “Cafe, you don’t have to—”
“I do. My friend thinks this is funny,” Cafe said. Her ears flicked. “...You may come by tonight.”
Spe dropped her face onto the table. “This can’t be happening,” she mumbled.
McQueen beamed. “Wonderful, Cafe, I’m glad—”
Cafe said, “But, McQueen...”
“Hmm?”
“If you call me ‘daddy’ at any point, I will haunt you.”
“...Noted.”
After breakfast, McQueen found Mejiro Dober reading outside on a bench.
“Dober, I would like your advice.”
“McQueen!” Dober jumped, shoving a book behind her back.
The book slipped through the slats of the bench and landed open on a two-page spread.
McQueen peered down at it, tilting her head to match its angle.
“Oh my.”
Dober’s face went scarlet and she kicked the book away. “T-That was— I bought it by mistake!”
“Relax.” McQueen put a hand on her shoulder. “Your experience with romance is exactly why I need your advice.”
“Romance?!” Dober flinched. “You need my advice?”
“Yes. You are familiar with Manhattan Cafe?”
“Of course, we—” Dober turned away. “I mean, I was— we— I mean— she and I—”
“I need her.”
Dober paused. “Need her as in...?”
“As in...” McQueen politely coughed. “The union of the Mejiro and Silence bloodlines proved fortuitous in the past, Gold Ship aside. It made a legacy of the strong, and I would like to assist— I mean, as a Mejiro it falls upon me to aid— the duty of dignity calls me to—”
“Okay, I get it!” Dober raised her hands. “But... why Cafe specifically, all of a sudden? You never— oh no, this is about Sunday Silence, isn’t it?”
“Well, she does share Sunday’s striking thighs—”
“What?”
“—eyes.”
Dober gave her a flat look. “You’re serious.”
“Of course. I am planning to engage in the thirteen-step, traditional Mejiro courtship—”
“No!” Dober said. She sighed. “I mean, Cafe doesn’t... she doesn’t like that kind of thing. She prefers quieter settings. More one-on-one.”
“Intimate?”
“I-I mean... yes,” Dober said. “Just... ask her about coffee or something.”
“I see.” McQueen dipped her head. “Thank you, Dober. One more thing, since you knew both Sunday and Cafe.”
Dober tensed. “I did.”
McQueen sighed wistfully.
“D-don’t sigh like that!”
“I am curious— that is to say, I must inquire...” McQueen looked away, her tail swishing. “Who was better?”
“MCQUEEN!” Dober’s face was scarlet again.
McQueen, Spe, and Suzuka stood outside the door to an abandoned classroom Cafe and Tachyon had claimed as their headquarters.
“I believe I said I wanted to meet with Cafe alone,” McQueen said.
“And I said I’m not leaving you alone with her,” Spe retorted.
McQueen huffed. “I take offense at whatever ill intent you are implying.”
“...Pedigree pervert,” Suzuka said.
“I am not—”
Cafe opened the door, looking at the three of them flatly.
“Cafe!” McQueen said. “I brought you something.” She handed her a small paper bag held shut by a wire tie.
Cafe took the bag, undid the tie, and peered into it. “Gesha.” She sniffed. “Panama. High altitude.”
“Indeed. I received these as a gift, but I seldom drink coffee. I thought you might appreciate it more than I.” McQueen smiled. “And, perhaps, teach me how to prepare it?”
Cafe’s ears flicked. “...Come inside. Tachyon won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Spe frowned. “That was not reassuring.”
“I’m watching you, McQueen,” Spe whispered.
“First... you weigh and grind the beans,” Cafe said, pouring the coffee beans into a small, cylindrical hand grinder. She picked it up and began grinding. “The burrs—”
“Your technique is refined.” McQueen leaned in. “The way you wrap your hand around the shaft—”
“Stop.” Spe cut in. “Back up.”
“Why?”
“You’re close enough to smell her shampoo.”
Her face was indeed practically buried in the crook of Cafe’s neck. Cafe kept her eyes on the grinder with grim focus even as she could feel McQueen’s breath.
McQueen took a half-step back.
“More,” Spe warned.
“Special Week,” McQueen said. “Is this really necessary?”
“Absolutely. Though I’m not sure why Suzuka is too.”
“...It is necessary for me to be here,” Suzuka said.
“‘Here’ as in this room? Debatable,” Spe said. “Unless you meant ‘here’ as in this world. In which case, also debatable, because a paradise for racing spirits should have no chestnuts.”
“—grind the coffee. Depending on how you brew it, you want the grounds uniform... or bimodal,” Cafe continued, ignoring them.
“Fascinating.” McQueen nodded. “You sound very scientific.”
“Coffee is a science,” Cafe said, cranking the grinder.
“And you prefer things bi, Cafe?” McQueen asked.
“...Bimodal.”
“That is what I said, yes.”
“It isn’t.” Cafe tapped the grounds into the filter. “Uniform grinds are not always better. They leave gaps. For espresso, smaller grinds help fill the holes.”
“I never would have thought of filling holes like that,” McQueen said.
“Stop,” Spe hissed. “You’re being a pedigree pervert.”
“I am studying her technique,” McQueen said.
“You’re shopping for a replacement for Sunday Silence!”
“You are,” Suzuka agreed. “Spe would know. About replacements.”
Spe whipped around. “And what is that supposed to mean, chestnut?”
“It should be obvious.” Suzuka’s tail flicked. “...Unless you’re too slow.”
“Blooming means adding a little water first... It pre-releases the carbon dioxide in the beans before brewing,” Cafe continued, wetting the grounds.
“I see,” McQueen said, nodding. “I assume the liquid volume is essential when you pre-release?”
Cafe closed her eyes.
“No one could ever replace you, Suzuka,” Spe said, still glaring at her. “You truly mastered the fourth-turn funeral.”
“...At least I’m still relevant,” Suzuka said. “People talk about me. Not my generation and the time I was tricked by Seiun Sky.”
“I’m the Supreme Commander of Japan.”
“So I’ve heard. You get a lot of mileage out of that one,” Suzuka noted. “To replace your failed Triple Crown.”
“It gets more mileage than you did at the Tenno Sho! How far did you take our jockey in that one, Suzuka?”
Suzuka’s ears went flat. “How far did you run with your mother as a foal, Special Week?”
Spe opened her mouth. Closed it.
Suzuka stiffly walked out of the room, the door clicking behind her.
“I—” Spe inhaled and smoothed her skirt. “Chestnuts,” she hissed. “Always acting like—”
Cafe said, “...You should go apologize to her.”
“What?!” Spe turned. “She should apologize to me. For existing. That arrogant, egotistical chestnut!”
“You’re both—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—Silence-line Umamusume,” Cafe finished. “And you shared a jockey. You have a bond.”
“Us and half of Japan. We have nothing,” Spe said. “We never even met before here.”
“Suzuka died young. You’re one of the few Umamusume she has a connection with, however remote.” Cafe looked at the kettle, which had shut off while idle, and turned it on again. “And, as hostile as you are... I think she still looks up to you.”
“What?!” Spe recoiled. “There’s no way. She’s an arrogant chestnut front-runner and I’m—”
“Everything she may have been.”
“That—” Spe’s tail lashed. “Fine. I’ll go— I don’t know what. I’m not apologizing to a chestnut.” She glared at McQueen. “Behave. Yourself.”
“As a Mejiro, I always act with decorum,” McQueen said.
Spe walked to the door, stumbling briefly as if being pushed along. She looked over her shoulder, but there was no one there.
McQueen watched the door close behind Spe. “Are you not worried about the two of them?” she asked.
“No,” Cafe said, turning back to the coffee. “My friend went with her. She will make sure they behave.”
“Right...”
The lesson continued, Cafe brewing the coffee as McQueen stood closer than necessary.
“You pour in a spiral,” Cafe explained, guiding a thin stream of hot water around the cone. “To evenly saturate the—”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Cafe paused. McQueen’s ears flicked up.
“That must be Spe returning,” McQueen said, moving toward the door.
“McQueen,” Cafe said sharply. “Do not.”
“Oh?” McQueen turned back, smiling faintly. “You prefer to keep just the two of us—”
“Mejiro McQueen!”
McQueen froze, eyes wide with recognition. “Sunday?!”
“McQueen, it’s me! Let me in, so we can see each other again!”
McQueen stumbled forward, but Cafe was between her and the door in an instant. “Don’t,” Cafe hissed. “It’s not her.”
“Wh-what?” McQueen asked. “That voice, it is—”
“It’s not.” Cafe caught McQueen by the shoulders. They were shaking. “Trust me, McQueen.”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“C’mon, let me in!”
“S-Sunday...” McQueen tried to move past Cafe. “I...”
Cafe pushed McQueen back onto a chair. “Sit. Look at me.”
“McQueen...”
McQueen met Cafe’s eyes. Golden eyes, staring into her own. Long, dark hair framing a pale face. Enough of Sunday Silence to make the memory of loss seize her by the throat.
BANG BANG BANG
“Y-you...” McQueen swallowed. “You look just like her.”
“I know.”
“McQueen? McQueen? McQueen? McQueen?”
McQueen drew a shaking breath. “I never... I never got to say goodbye.”
BANG BANG BANG
McQueen flinched at the noise. She rose suddenly, catching the edge of the table and her trembling knees gave out.
Cafe caught her by the waist and McQueen clung to her.
It was humiliating.
“I’m here.” One of Cafe’s hands wrapped around McQueen’s own.
It was warm.
“You’re not her,” McQueen said.
“...No.” Cafe’s hand squeezed McQueen’s. “But I will keep you safe.”
BANG. THUMP.
McQueen’s fingers tightened in the fabric at Cafe’s shoulder. She blinked, hard, and looked at Cafe as if seeing her clearly for the first time.
She lifted her other hand toward Cafe’s face. Cafe caught her wrist. “...Do you see me?” she asked. “Or her?”
“Y-you,” McQueen said. “I see you.”
“...Most do not.”
Cafe’s eyes lowered, just once, to McQueen’s mouth.
McQueen closed the distance and kissed her. Cafe caught the front of McQueen’s dress and kissed her back. Cafe rested her other hand on McQueen’s jaw, and McQueen tasted coffee on Cafe’s lips.
They parted, but neither went far.
BANG BANG BANG
Neither looked toward the door.
“...Stay the night, McQueen.”
McQueen sat in the chair, unsure whether she had slept at all. At some point, the banging had stopped and early sunlight was now filtering through the windows.
Cafe was at the counter, preparing coffee. “...Thank you. For trusting me,” she said without turning around.
“What was that?” McQueen asked.
“It stopped when my friend returned...” Cafe glanced toward the empty side of the room. “She won’t allow it back.”
“That’s not an answer.” McQueen rose and joined her at the counter. “But I shall accept it.”
Steam rose from the brewing cone as Cafe poured hot water into it. “It’s all you need to know.”
McQueen watched the ritual. She swallowed once, uncertain, then spoke. “I cannot defend my original intentions.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
Cafe tapped the brewing cone on the carafe and set it aside. She poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to McQueen.
“Sunday was boisterous,” McQueen said, taking the mug. “She folded against sufficient will and revealed herself to be quite pliable. You are not like her.”
“I know.”
“I should have noticed sooner.” McQueen peered into the mug, hesitating, then took a sip. “This— This is actually quite good.”
“...You gave it to me,” Cafe said, taking a sip from her own.
“I dislike coffee,” McQueen said. “But this is floral and... sweet. Did you add sugar?”
“No... it’s how it was processed. They leave the fruit around the bean after harvesting. The sugars remain.” Cafe said.
“I suppose appearances may deceive one as to the contents within,” McQueen said, studying the contents of the cup before taking another sip.
Cafe looked at McQueen. “...Was that supposed to be a metaphor?”
McQueen’s cheeks colored. “Hehe. Perhaps?”
They stood silently, finishing their coffee.
“Thank you, Cafe. I—” McQueen set her empty mug on the counter and smoothed her skirt. “I should go. I must be presentable for the day.”
She reached the door and looked back. “Cafe, would you like to— that is to say, perhaps we could repeat this sometime?”
Cafe regarded her. “No.”
“I—” McQueen’s ears flattened. “Yes, I understand. I should not have presumed.”
Cafe took a sip of her coffee, watching McQueen.
“Because, if you come back... come back for me.”
In the end, no amount of hot showers, skincare, or makeup could hide the effects of a sleepless night.
“Wow, McQueen, you look awful!” Teio said as she approached their table at breakfast.
McQueen sank into her chair. “Thank you, Teio.”
She was surprised to find Spe and Suzuka sharing a table at all after last night. The usual single empty seat between them now looked almost conciliatory.
“And why exactly are you so tired?” Spe asked.
“I had a... long night,” McQueen said.
“Doing what?”
“Or whom,” Suzuka said.
Teio’s eyes went wide. “No...”
McQueen sat up. “I did not— We did not—”
“‘We’?” Spe asked.
“I simply did not sleep. I had too much cafe— caffeine—”
“You were with Cafe,” Teio said with an accusatory glare.
“Nothing happened!” McQueen said. “It was all quite proper.”
“Was it?” Spe asked. “You seemed to be interested in the improper yesterday.”
McQueen’s tail swished. “Cafe and I had a long talk. We came to an... understanding.”
“A ‘long talk,’ huh?” Teio pointed at her. “I’m the only rival you need! I’m gonna go train my stamina right now, McQueen, and then we’ll see how you handle a long talk.”
“It was only a talk! You must believe—” McQueen broke off as Teio was already dashing away. “—me...”
“And now I’m sure I’ll get to deal with that.” Spe turned back toward McQueen. “You know you’re supposed to act like anime girls, right? Not... whatever this is.”
“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about,” McQueen said, poking her breakfast with a fork. She set it down and took a sip from her cup.
Suzuka wrinkled her nose. “...I didn’t know you drank coffee, McQueen.”
“Neither did I.” McQueen took another sip.
Spe’s forehead hit the table.