Chapter Text
A room that seems almost sterile. In a coffin shaped bed a single figure lays half buried by the covers. Were it not for its steady breathing, it could be mistaken for something desiccated. Tall and gaunt, skin pale. something almost concerning unhealthy. until one looks closer. Muscles wryly cling to bones, in perfect form. The illusion of a skeletal figure is only due to how closely the muscles follow the form.
*RING*RING*RING*RING*
With a swift motion, the figure silences the alarm and rises. Once in motion, it quickly defies any notion of unlife, moving with the power of a jackhammer and the subtly of a surgical machine. It mixes something into its water bottle, shakes, and takes a sip before double checking its notes and leaving from its home. His home.
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He was early. really early. There was only one other trainer here, and they had only gotten here in the past 5 minutes. He checked his watch. 2 hours until the first race even STARTS. "No prepared like over prepared," he mutters to himself, cursing the subconscious anxiety he hides as pragmatism. At least he got one of the best spots. A faint warm pain serves as a reminder of his accomplishments. He sips from his water bottle.
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When you can't read people naturally, you read them artificially. Every muscle twitch, every blink and every action or reaction of a runner is mentally filed in a internal spreadsheet that outputs a more detailed image of them than any profile could give. One runner may redefine the track with raw strength. He knows before they even enter the gate. He does not think nor be more than a calculator of traits. He enters a calm haze, the processing of information stilling him. he discards and sorts index cards, types out numbers in a spreadsheet, and although catalogs information. no thought, just pre determined responses. Then, all of a sudden, it stops. His breath hitches as he lays eyes upon one particular uma. Her red eyes, the thin veil, every detail throws up error messages in the finely tuned processor of his mind. He grips the guardrail. His eyes follow her, and her alone. An unfamiliar feeling burns behind his lungs. He has been ensnared whole by her mere presence, and he does not care. For a moment, their eyes meet. Barely more than pinpricks of color, he still loses the ability to think coherently. He sees, the same desire reflected, the same need. the contact breaks, and he stumbles back, sapience returning to him in a flash. He hurries, finding her name so he can know, because he must.
Still in Love.
He knows, no matter what, he has a trainee.
He does not fall back into the haze, the trance broken. He watches the next few races lazily, not even updating his notes. and then he notices two racers, bickering like their life depends on it. When the race comes, he sees rivalry and friendship in equal parts. He sees iron sharpening iron, the twisting helix of DNA. Potential manifest in each other. Memories flicker as nostalgia floods his core, cursing the limits of human flesh as pain flares. he finds their index cards in his pile and leaves.
He doesn't need to watch the rest of the races.
Hes already found his trainees.
The first members of team AXIOM.