As the race began, Tsutsumi watched Agnes Tachyon deliberately ease her pace and allow herself to sink into dead last. It wasn't a mistake born from nerves or a poor read of the field; it was deliberate, almost calculated in its recklessness. By doing so, she forced herself into an End Closer running style, the one style she was notoriously unsuited for.
That decision alone told him exactly what she intended. By trapping herself at the rear and compressing the pressure around her body, she was trying to provoke the Nebula Gas essence within her, forcing it to react to her emotions and answer her will with greater strength.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he followed her movements through the pack, but then something else tugged at his attention. It was subtle, a faint distortion layered over the rhythm of pounding hooves and flying turf. A blur that did not match the motion of any runner. For an instant, he wondered if it was simply the strain of watching at such speed, but the irregularity persisted.
"Azu, hack into the camera and confirm that I am not seeing things," Tsutsumi murmured under his breath.
The reply came through his earpiece almost immediately. "You're not seeing things, Master. Those are indeed Worms moving at light speed. Even the high-speed cameras can only capture them as blurred distortions within individual frames."
So someone could not tolerate the possibility of their favored runner losing and had chosen sabotage instead.
Tsutsumi exhaled softly, more annoyed than surprised. He stepped back from the crowded stands, letting the cheers swallow his retreat as he slipped into the quieter hallway beneath the seating area. The roar of the stadium dulled into a distant vibration. From his pocket, he drew a card and spun it once between his fingers before sliding it into his Driver.
Attack Ride: Clock Up!
In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his position, leaving nothing but empty air behind.
On the track, Tachyon had already begun her explosive advance, slicing past the Late Surgers and closing rapidly on the leaders. The moment she drew alongside Dantsu Flame and began overtaking the others, time seemed to freeze. The world slowed into stillness; dirt hung suspended midair, sweat droplets froze like crystal beads, and the thunder of the crowd flattened into silence.
Within that suspended dimension, an orange, chitinous Worm stepped fully into view near Tachyon's flank. Its segmented body gleamed under the stadium lights, and its pincer-like claw flexed as it approached her unmoving form.
"How dare a no-name Uma Musume interfere with my Dantsu Flame's path of glory?" it hissed, voice distorted by the accelerated field.
It closed the remaining distance and raised its sharpened claw high, intent on bringing it down across Tachyon's back. The strike descended, but before it could connect, a metallic screech split the frozen air as Eternaledge intercepted the blow. The Worm's claw ground uselessly against the blade.
Tsutsumi stood between it and Tachyon, calm and composed. With a swift motion of his arm, he deflected the attack and struck the Worm hard enough to send it skidding backward across the motionless turf.
"Wow, you really are pathetic," Tsutsumi remarked evenly, looking at the creature as though it were something unpleasant he had stepped on. "You cannot bear to see your favorite Uma Musume lose, so you resort to this?"
The Worm recoiled, eyes widening as it recognized the armor. "Y-You? How can you move without Clock Up?" it demanded, its voice edged with disbelief since he wasn't wearing any armor similar to those Rider with the Clock Up system.
Tsutsumi ignored the question entirely and instead let his words cut where they would hurt most. "Have you considered how she would feel if she won this race only to learn that it wasn't her strength that secured it, but someone sabotaging her opponents behind the scenes?"
The Worm faltered. Uma Musumes were fiercely prideful in their strength and competitiveness; victory was meaningful only if it was earned. If a win were tainted by interference, even if the official record acknowledged it, the Uma Musume herself would never truly accept it. It would be an insult to everything she trained for and stood upon.
"You bastard!" the Worm shrieked, fury overcoming hesitation as it lunged toward him in a reckless charge.
Tsutsumi stepped back calmly, drawing it away from the center of the track and closer to the outer boundary. He tilted his head slightly to avoid a sweeping claw, his movements minimal and precise, and slid another card into his Driver.
Final Attack Ride: Ku-Ku-Ku-Kuuga!
Golden energy gathered densely around his clenched fist, radiating an ominous glow. Without flourish or delay, he drove his punch straight into the Worm's chest. The impact hurled it backward across the frozen field, where it crashed and rolled before forcing itself unsteadily to its feet, one claw clutching at the point of impact.
Tsutsumi turned his back to it. "You're already dead."
"Nani?" the Worm uttered in confusion as it lowered its claw.
Imprinted on its chest was the glowing Kuuga emblem, pulsing ominously. Fine cracks began to spread outward from the mark, crawling across its body like fractures in glass. The glow intensified, and panic overtook its features as the fissures widened.
Desperate, it shifted its gaze toward the frozen figure of Dantsu Flame in the distance. "Dant…su Flame-chan…" it rasped, voice trembling, before the light overwhelmed it. The cracks flared brilliantly, and the Worm exploded into fragments, leaving behind only a faint trail of white smoke that quickly dissipated.
In the next instant, time resumed its natural flow. Sound roared back, dirt fell, and hooves struck the ground once more. Tachyon accelerated into the final stretch, unaware of the battle that had unfolded within a single suspended heartbeat. Yet from the corner of her eye, she thought she glimpsed a familiar figure standing momentarily on the track.
As she crossed the finish line, she tilted her head back slightly to confirm she was not imagining it, but there was no one there. The track behind her was empty, as though nothing had ever happened at all.
After winning, Tachyon was in undeniably high spirits. She exchanged polite words of encouragement with the other runners, offering measured praise and light comments as though the race had been nothing more than an interesting experiment.
When she finally turned toward the exit, she hummed under her breath and skipped lightly down the corridor, blissfully ignoring the increasingly sour looks trailing after her from those who had just been crushed by a ten-length margin.
The air inside the track tunnel was cooler, the roar of the stadium fading into a distant echo. At the far end, Tsutsumi was already waiting.
"Congratulations on your first win," he said, and unlike his usual dry remarks, there was nothing ironic in it.
Even if it had only been a debut race against fellow beginners, it was still her first official competition since they had partnered up. He had taken on the role of her trainer largely out of boredom, amused by her eccentricity and curious about her potential when mixed with his experiment.
Yet watching her storm from last to first, seeing the way she had forced herself forward without hesitation, had stirred something unexpected in him. Pride, perhaps. Or satisfaction. Either way, the smile on his face was genuine.
Tachyon noticed this; her eyes sparkled faintly as she tilted her head, studying him with open curiosity.
"Guinea pig-kun, can you help me with something?"
He raised an eyebrow at the sudden request but gave a light shrug. "As long as it isn't too outrageous, I don't mind."
"Great," she replied smoothly. "Then let's head back to the waiting room first."
Most of the audience remained in the stands, awaiting the winner's ceremony. The corridor leading to the waiting room was quiet, nearly empty. By the time they stepped inside, it was just the two of them and the faint hum of overhead lights.
Tachyon retrieved her spare shoes from her bag and sat down calmly. Tsutsumi glanced at her, waiting for her to explain. Instead, she placed the spare shoes neatly aside and lifted one leg toward him with a playful smile.
"Help me change shoes."
"…Huh?"
"I said, help me change shoes," she repeated, her tone deliberately teasing as she let her foot sway slightly in the air. "Surely that isn't too much to ask?"
He sighed inwardly but stepped forward anyway. Kneeling in front of her, he reached for the white racing shoe she had just worn to victory and carefully loosened it. The moment he slipped it off, she mischievously nudged her foot forward so that it settled squarely into his palm.
"Since you're already down there, how about giving me a foot massage too? My legs are a bit sore after running from such an unfavorable position." She raised one hand to partially cover her face, though the faint blush at her cheeks betrayed her composure. "You wouldn't want your little Guinea pig to collapse on stage during her victory ceremony, would you?"
"And whose fault was that?" Tsutsumi shot back dryly, but he did not withdraw his hand.
Her black-stockinged leg rested lightly against his palm, warm from exertion. Without further comment, he began pressing his thumb gently against her ankle, working slow, deliberate circles into the tense muscle.
Her smug, playful expression froze almost instantly.
"Nnn-!" The sound escaped before she could stop it, and she quickly covered her mouth with both hands.
A subtle yet electrifying sensation shot upward from her ankle, racing along her nerves and striking straight into her brain. She glanced down in disbelief and found that Tsutsumi was not pretending, not teasing in return, but carefully and methodically massaging her ankle and calf with surprising skill.
She had not expected this. She had only meant to tease him a little, to get a reaction out of him before handing him her shoes, the ones she had worn for her first victory.
Among Uma Musume, the practice of "shoe gifting" was well known. After a meaningful win, a runner would sometimes present her used racing shoes to her trainer as a token of gratitude.
Initially limited to trainer-tantou pairs with healthy relationships, it eventually became a widespread custom. It symbolized trust, shared effort, and acknowledgment of partnership.
Trainers never stood on the podium, never received medals or trophies; those honors belonged solely to the Uma Musumes. So the act of gifting shoes, personal, meaningful items associated with victory, became a thoughtful and symbolic gesture, something trainers could cherish after their Uma Musume graduated and moved on.
She had intended to hand them over casually, perhaps after making him squirm a bit.
Instead, it was she who was squirming.
Another firm press along her calf sent a warm pulse through her body, scattering her thoughts. She recalled an old interview with Oguri Cap, who had once spoken about being born with weak legs and how her family had helped her learn to walk and run again.
That memory surfaced abruptly, tangling with the present moment in ways she did not fully understand. The sensation of someone supporting her legs, handling them with steady care, carried an unexpected weight.
A deeper blush spread across her face.
Tsutsumi's expression remained calm and unreadable as his hands moved with steady pressure. He shifted his grip slightly, fingers kneading away the lingering tension from her explosive sprint.
"Does it hurt?" he asked evenly.
"Hm… a little," she admitted, nodding faintly while still hiding her face.
"Good."
The casual reply made her heart skip. Was he enjoying this? Or was he simply enjoying watching her unravel?
He finished by slipping her spare shoe onto her foot and tightening it securely. Then his gaze moved to her other leg.
"Give me your other leg."
She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before extending it toward him.
As his hands began working along her other ankle and calf, the warmth returned, heavier this time, spreading through her senses and leaving her strangely dazed.
Her cheeks remained flushed, her eyes slightly unfocused. The emotions rising inside her were unfamiliar and annoyingly difficult to categorize. She did not know why she had offered her other leg so readily, nor why her body seemed to respond instinctively to his touch, subtly adjusting to make his movements easier.
Minutes later, he finished and stood up, washing his hands at the nearby sink before stepping aside. He waited quietly, giving her space to collect herself.
Tachyon lowered her legs slowly, steadying her breathing. The playful composure she usually wore had cracked in ways she had not anticipated. Avoiding his gaze, she reached down and picked up the white racing shoes she had worn moments earlier on the track.
"…These are for you," she said softly, holding them out without meeting his eyes.
"Uh… thanks," Tsutsumi replied, clearly puzzled. He accepted them but examined the shoes with mild confusion. The significance of the gesture was completely lost on him; to him, they were simply used footwear.
Maybe he should ask his sister about it later. Perhaps this was something common among Uma Musume and their trainers.
With that, he gave her a brief nod and left the waiting room, shoes in hand, unaware of the weight behind the gift.
Tachyon remained seated for a moment after he departed, pressing her palms lightly against her still-warm cheeks before exhaling. Soon, she would have to step back out for the victory performance, without looking like a blushing mess.