Rudolf and Air Groove led the group deeper into the academy. This wing belonged to the high school division—where fully matured uma musumes studied, mostly studied, and, in some cases… made a very convincing attempt at looking like they were studying.
Through the open classroom doors they passed, lessons were in full swing. Some students sat straight-backed, eyes sharp and focused, pens moving with practiced precision. Others leaned back in their chairs, whispering behind raised notebooks, doodling elaborate race diagrams, or staring vacantly out the window as if enlightenment might strike from the sky.
Air Groove's eye twitched.
She stopped.
"…Excuse me," she said calmly—far too calmly—already turning on her heel.
Rudolf sighed, the sound heavy with experience and a strange sort of fondness. "She still can't help herself," she murmured.
The group slowed, watching as Air Groove slipped into a nearby classroom through the back door, posture immaculate, heels silent but commanding. At the front of the room, the teacher froze mid-sentence.
"Ah—Vice Presi— I mean—!" the teacher stammered, color draining from their face.
The entire class went deathly still.
Air Groove offered a brief, courteous nod. "Please continue. I'll only take a moment."
Her heels clicked sharply as she walked down the aisle, each step measured.
Lunar peeked in through the doorframe, curiosity tugging her forward before she could stop herself.
At the very back corner of the classroom sat a tall, white-haired girl. She was seated perfectly upright, arms crossed, head tilted just enough to suggest intense concentration. A pair of dark sunglasses hid her eyes completely.
"She looks cool…" Namawa whispered, impressed.
Saiya squinted. "Is she famous? Why's Miss Air Groove going straight for her?"
Lunar frowned slightly.
That girl… she's not moving at all.
Air Groove stopped beside the desk.
She didn't hesitate.
SMACK.
The sound cracked through the room like a starting pistol.
"GYAAAH—?!" Gold Ship yelped as her sunglasses went flying, her body jerking forward while she clutched the back of her head. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR—?!"
"Sleeping in class," Air Groove replied flatly. "While wearing sunglasses. Sitting upright. Bold strategy." Her gaze sharpened. "Poor execution."
The classroom erupted into barely restrained gasps.
Namawa slapped a hand over her mouth. "S-She just hit her!"
Invincible Caviar winced. "That looked… painful."
Lunar stared, eyes wide.
…She saw through it instantly.
Persian straightened reflexively, snapping to attention. Anonym shrank back a step, half-hiding behind Autumn Sun. More Than Ready let out a low, impressed whistle. "Yikes."
At the doorway, Rudolf covered her face with her hand.
"…Every time," she said, shaking her head. "I no longer even try to stop her."
Gold Ship rubbed the back of her head, then broke into a wide grin—far too cheerful for someone who'd just been struck. "Man, you got me good, Air Groove senpai~Thought you retired or something!"
"Detention. After class," Air Groove replied without missing a beat. "And remove the sunglasses." She turned away already. "I'll be informing Heart's Cry. Personally."
"Aww, c'mon—!" Gold Ship protested as Air Groove exited, the door closing behind her with a decisive click.
The class remained frozen for a full three seconds. Then, slowly, everyone sat up straighter, focusing on the class.
Outside, Air Groove cleared her throat, composure fully restored. "Pardon me," she said. "Old habits."
Autumn Sun gave a gentle thumbs-up while Written Tycoon lets out a small smile. "No pardon necessary," she said calmly. "That was an excellent demonstration of the consequences of fooling around during class."
She turned to the fillies. "I'm sure they'll be more mindful now."
Namawa and Saiya nodded frantically. The others nodded more carefully.
Rudolf let out a sigh of deep, exhausted resignation. "While that was… not the ideal showcase of discipline, I assure you students like Gold Ship are a significant minority among Tracen's hardworking population."
Black Caviar laughed softly. "Anomalies are inevitable. A few troublemakers here and there are nothing unusual."
Before Rudolf could respond, I Am Invincible leaned in with a teasing smirk. "Easy for you to say. 'Course, the only reason you're so relaxed is 'cause you were a bit of a personality yourself back in the academy days."
Rudolf's brow lifted. "Oh?"
Lunar's ears perked up immediately. "…Really?"
Black Caviar stiffened.
"The past is the past," she said quickly, turning her head away just a fraction. "That's all ancient history."
Namawa leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Now I really wanna hear about it."
Autumn Sun hid her smile behind a cough.
Rudolf, however, only chuckled—low, knowing. "Hmm. Perhaps another time," she said, clearly enjoying Black Caviar's rare discomfort.
Black Caviar exhaled through her nose. "…You're all terrible."
Despite the words, there was no real bite to them. The tension eased, replaced by the quiet rhythm of footsteps as they moved deeper into the academy.
They passed into another wing—brighter, livelier somehow. The voices were higher here, the laughter less restrained. Through wide classroom windows, they could see younger fillies who haven't gone through maturization yet seated at desks, some leaning forward with earnest focus, others whispering excitedly before being hushed by a teacher's glance.
Saiya slowed without realizing it. "Hey… they're about our age."
Namawa nodded, peering in. "Yeah. They're studying just like us. But in classrooms!"
Persian observed quietly, hands though the excitement in her eyes are apparent. Anonym tilted her head, eyes tracing the chalkboard through the glass.
Even the adults' attention lingered.
Black Caviar stopped in front of one classroom, looking in with open curiosity. "You start them this early?" she asked. "In Australia, specialized academies don't take uma musumes until high school age." Her gaze softened as she watched a group of students eagerly raise their hands. "Before that, most attend standard schools with humans. Or they're homeschooled—like my children are now."
Air Groove nodded, clearly expecting the question. "Tracen operates on a different philosophy. Early exposure allows them to acclimate—academics, discipline, physical conditioning, and support systems—all at a gradual pace."
Written Tycoon brought a hand to her chin, thoughtful. "It seems to also allow for early identification of aptitude," she added. "Not just in running, but in analysis, coordination, and auxiliary roles."
Black Caviar hummed softly. "I can see the merit in that." She glanced toward Rudolf. "This might be worth bringing up with the RA. As an alternative pathway."
Rudolf smiled, approving. "Any system that improves the wellbeing and future of uma musumes is worth consideration. That goal should transcend borders."
As the adults continued their discussion, Lunar drifted half a step behind, hands clasped loosely in front of her. She looked through the glass again—at the students laughing, learning, dreaming.
Would I like this someday? she wondered.
Her thoughts drifted—until a familiar voice pulled her back.
"Hey," Saiya said, leaning slightly closer. "You okay? You've been spacing out."
Lunar blinked, then looked up at her. "…When everyone goes to the academy," she asked quietly, "will we all go together?"
Saiya smiled without hesitation. "Of course we will. Why wouldn't we?"
Lunar hesitated. "But… isn't an academy like this all about training? About running and racing? Could you.. attend it too?"
Saiya laughed softly. "Nah. That's only part of it." She tilted her head, thinking. "Support uma musumes exist too, you know."
Lunar frowned slightly. "Support… uma musume?"
Before Saiya could elaborate, Air Groove came to a smooth stop at the mouth of another corridor. She turned, one arm lifting in a precise gesture.
"And these," she said, "are the classrooms for support uma musume."
Lunar's eyes lifted.
Through the windows, the atmosphere was different—quieter, but no less intense. There were fewer chalkboards filled with race-line diagrams and split times. Instead, charts lined the walls: training cycles, muscle group schematics, nutritional balance tables.
Lunar hesitated, then tugged lightly at the hem of her sleeve. "…Uhm, what's a support uma musume?"
Air Groove slowed to a stop, clearly pleased by the question. "A support uma musume," she began, "is someone who dedicates herself to enabling others to reach their peak. Not by running alongside them—but by standing behind them."
She gestured toward one of the classrooms. "They study race strategy, conditioning theory, nutrition, injury prevention, mental coaching, scheduling, logistics—everything a racing uma musume needs beyond raw speed."
Her voice was steady, confident. "They analyze opponents. Adjust training loads. Spot weaknesses before they become injuries. Aside from trainers, they're the ones who make sure a runner can focus entirely on the race ahead."
Lunar listened intently.
"They work closely with trainers, medical staff, and the runners themselves," Air Groove continued. "And in many cases, they eventually become trainers as their careers progress."
She folded her arms lightly. "A support uma musume often becomes a racer's anchor. Their balance."
She paused—just long enough for the weight of her words to settle—then shifted her gaze to the side.
"A very good example of that," she said evenly, "is with us today."
Her eyes came to rest on Written Tycoon.
Written Tycoon met the look, then inclined her head in a single, restrained nod. "That's… generous," she replied, voice calm and measured.
"It's accurate," Air Groove said at once. "Written Tycoon is widely recognized as one of the finest support uma musume in history. More importantly, she was instrumental in redefining what a support role could become."
She gestured faintly toward the classrooms behind them. "Before her era, support uma musume were often treated as auxiliary staff—temporary, interchangeable, rarely acknowledged beyond the sidelines. Written Tycoon demonstrated that long-term strategic support could rival raw talent in importance."
Persian puffed out her chest beside Lunar, hands planted on her hips. "See? Mommy's amazing," she declared, pride radiating from her.
Air Groove allowed herself the smallest nod. "She helped normalize the transition from elite support uma musume to professional trainer—proving that an uma musume's racing intellect, observational skill, and lived experience could guide entire generations."
Black Caviar hummed in agreement. "That shift changed everything," she said. "In Australia especially." She glanced back at the children as she spoke. "Prince of Penzance. Winx. Both of their trainers are uma musumes. That wasn't a coincidence—it was precedent."
Her gaze returned to Written Tycoon. "Support uma musume becoming trainers, leaders, architects of careers… that path became mainstream because Umas like Tycoon proved it worked."
Written Tycoon cleared her throat, looking away just slightly. "I only did what the situation demanded."
But the tips of her ears had gone noticeably red.
More Than Ready noticed immediately.
"Oho?" she leaned in, grinning. "Is that embarrassment I see? From THE Written Tycoon of all people?"
"…Don't," Written Tycoon warned flatly.
More Than Ready poked her cheek. "C'mon, you're basically legendary—"
SNAP.
"Ack—!"
Written Tycoon seized both of More Than Ready's cheeks with ruthless precision, stretching them just enough to make her yelp. Her expression remained perfectly composed.
"Quiet," she said coolly.
More Than Ready's cheeks turned bright red—half from the pinch, half from laughter. "Y-Yeah, yeah! Okay! Let go already!"
Written Tycoon released her with a soft huff and adjusted her glasses as if nothing had happened. "Compose yourself," she said evenly. "You're embarrassing."
"Me?" More Than Ready rubbed her cheeks, still grinning. "You're the one getting all flustered."
They continued down the corridor. Compared to the earlier wings, this area felt calmer—more focused.
Though that calm lasted exactly three seconds.
Inside one classroom, a lapis-haired uma musume slouched in her chair, cheek resting in her palm, eyes half-lidded as she stared into the void. She yawned, blinked—
—and caught movement outside.
A lot of movement.
Her gaze slid lazily along the passing group… then stopped.
Locked.
On Written Tycoon.
More specifically—on Written Tycoon pinching More Than Ready's cheeks.
Her eyes went wide.
She shot upright so fast her chair screeched back.
"WRITTEN TYCOOOOOON—!!"
The shout detonated down the hallway.
Every head snapped toward the windows.
Desks scraped. Chairs toppled. In seconds, bodies crowded the glass—students piling shoulder to shoulder, faces pressed close, eyes gleaming with unrestrained excitement.
"NO WAY—!"
"IS THAT HER?!"
"IS THIS A DREAM? OW WHY DID YOU PINCH ME!?!"
"WAIT—IS THAT BLACK CAVIAR TOO—?!!"
It was like a scene out of a zombie movie—dozens of uma musume swarming the windows, hands splayed against the glass, voices overlapping into a single, chaotic roar.
Namawa squeaked and clutched Lunar's sleeve. "W-Why are they all looking at us?!"
Saiya flinched. "That's scary! Why are they scary?!"
Anonym shrank closer to Autumn Sun, who immediately placed a gentle hand over her eyes.
"Oh my…" Autumn Sun murmured.
Written Tycoon froze mid-step.
More Than Ready leaned over, whispering far too cheerfully, "Told ya you were famous."
Immediately, Rudolf stopped, and Air Groove stopped with her.
The air shifted.
An imperial weight rolled through the hallway, cold and absolute. The chatter died instantly. Students stiffened as if pulled by invisible strings, scrambling back to their seats in a panic of apologies and flustered movements.
Emperor and Empress.
Rudolf spoke, voice calm—and unmistakably displeased. "…Have you all forgotten where you are?"
Not a single student dared respond.
"Back. To. Your. Seats."
Air Groove's gaze swept the windows. "Immediately."
The effect was instant.
Students yelped, recoiled, scrambled back to their desks like they'd been struck by lightning. Curtains snapped shut. Teachers cleared their throats loudly. Silence crashed down the hallway in less than five seconds.
Namawa peeked around. "…They're gone."
Saiya nodded. "That was terrifying."
Rudolf exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple. "I sincerely apologize."
Air Groove agreed. "That was some unacceptable behavior."
_
After that, they didn't linger in the hallway any longer than necessary.
Once outside, the academy seemed to breathe again. The wide paths opened up as Tracen revealed itself piece by piece. Rudolf and Air Groove guided them with practiced ease.
They passed the library first—quiet, but not of the heavy kind. Inside, rows of shelves stretched high, students bent over desks in focused silence.
Persian slowed, eyes scanning everything with open awe. "It's huge…" she murmured. "…Does it have books about Japanese uma musume racing history?"
"They do," Rudolf replied without hesitation. "This is the most comprehensive archive in Japan. Race records, personal journals, training philosophies—some dating back generations."
Lunar slowed, peering in with quiet interest. I wonder how many stories of legendary uma musumes are stored here, she thought.
Next came the canteen.
The moment they approached the space, noise and warmth washed over them. Steam curled into the air, rich with the scent of rice, meat, and spices. Trays clattered, laughter rang out, and conversations overlapped in comfortable chaos.
Namawa's stomach growled audibly, prompting a few laughter and sighs from the others.
"…Oops."
Inside, rows of tables were filled with students eating portions that would've made any normal human blink. And then—
"Oh look! There she is," Saiya whispered.
Oguri Cap sat at the center of one table, methodically demolishing a mountain of food with serene focus. Plates stacked around her like trophies. Even among other well-fed students, she was in a league of her own.
"…How is she still going? And how do they still have the food to cover all… that? " Invincible Caviar questioned.
"Meals here are tailored to training cycles," Air Groove explained, unfazed. "Caloric intake, recovery needs, metabolic differences—everything is monitored in order to prevent any complications. Even outliers such as Oguri Cap."
Black Caviar nodded thoughtfully. "How efficient. That alone surpasses most academies back home."
They continued on until the atmosphere shifted again.
The corridor opened into the club wing—and all restraint promptly vanished.
Noise spilled freely through half-open doors. Laughter, shouting, the thud of hooves, something metallic clattering to the floor. It was chaos, contained only by walls and mutual familiarity.
From one room, a bold placard read TEAM SPICA.
Inside, voices overlapped in increasingly absurd escalation.
"I'm tellin' you, I should be the anchor—!"
"No way! You tripped over your own feet last time!"
"That was ONE TIME!"
"ONE TIME TOO MANY!"
From another room—TEAM CANOPUS—a very different kind of disaster was unfolding.
"AGAIN! AGAIN!"
"That's your fifth 'again'!"
"I CAN DO ONE MORE—!"
CRASH.
A collective groan followed.
Anonym stared at the door. "They're… really loud."
Saiya laughed under her breath. "They look like they're having fun, though."
More Than Ready snorted, hands shoved deep into her pockets. "Yep. Still looks—and sounds—like kids wherever ya go. Don't matter how fancy the place is."
Rudolf slowed her steps, letting the group naturally bunch together as the noise behind them faded. She turned slightly, hands folded neatly behind her back, expression thoughtful.
"At Tracen," she began, "students rarely train alone. Each trainer oversees a team—sometimes small, sometimes large—built around compatibility, goals, and development style."
She gestured lightly back toward the club buildings they'd passed. "Those teams often take on the trainer's philosophy. Their habits, their values. Over time, the name becomes more than a label."
Persian tilted her head, ears flicking. "So… they're like families?"
Rudolf smiled. "That's a fair way to put it."
Air Groove nodded once. "Teams also foster loyalty, cooperation, and long-term growth. Runners learn to rely on one another—not just their trainer."
"And you two?" Black Caviar asked, glancing between them.
Rudolf's expression softened, just a touch. "Air Groove and I both belonged to Team Rigil."
"Under Trainer Tojou Hana." Air Groove continued.
Written Tycoon's eyes sharpened with recognition. "Tojou Hana… I've heard that name."
Rudolf inclined her head. "A strict woman. Both demanding but also compromising in her own way."
"And exceptional," Air Groove added without hesitation.
Written Tycoon hummed thoughtfully. "That explains a lot."
The noise and bustle of the academy slowly ebbed as they moved on.
"This is the dormitory area," Rudolf announced.
Paths widened, then softened. Stone gave way to brick, then to garden-lined walkways. The air felt calmer here—quieter, warmer somehow. Flowerbeds bordered the roads, carefully tended, and balconies above held fluttering laundry and potted plants basking in the afternoon sun.
"Well now," it drawled, "this is a rare sight."
From beneath the shade of a broad tree stepped Fuji Kiseki, arms crossed loosely, posture relaxed but sharp. Her smile curved with interest as she took in the group.
"Rudolf-senpai," Fuji Kiseki said, dipping her head just enough to be polite. "Didn't expect to see you leading a parade today."
Rudolf chuckled softly, hands folding behind her back. "Good to see you, Kiseki. I promise this wasn't meant to be a spectacle. We're only visiting."
Fuji hummed, unconvinced. Her eyes slid sideways—quick and perceptive—lingering first on Black Caviar, then on the children clustered nearby. Something clicked. Her brow lifted a fraction. "…Ah," she said lightly. "That explains it."
Rudolf turned slightly, gesturing toward Black Caviar. "Black Caviar and her family are visiting Japan. They'll be attending the Kikuka Sho."
Fuji Kiseki's smile widened, interest clearly piqued. "Well, that's not something you see every day." Her gaze returned to Black Caviar, openly curious. "Australia's pride herself, walking our dorm grounds. Guess Tracen's got some international eyes on it now."
Black Caviar shakes her head, "We've heard much about this place. It seemed worth seeing firsthand."
Fuji laughed softly. "Yeah, I'd say so." She tilted her head. "So then—if you're here for the Kikuka Sho, I'm guessing you've got a horse in the race. Orfevre, perhaps?"
Black Caviar paused, choosing her words. "I wouldn't mind seeing another Triple Crown winner," she said evenly. Then, after a brief beat, her voice softened just a touch. "And Stay Gold is a friend of mine. Supporting her daughter feels natural."
Fuji's expression warmed, understanding dawning immediately. "Ah… that kind of connection." She nodded once. "Yeah. That make sense."
She shifted her stance and hooked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing toward the open stretch of green beyond the dorm buildings. The distant thud of cleats against turf carried faintly in the air.
"You're in luck, then," Fuji said easily. "Orfevre's out on the dorm field right now with her trainer. Nothing intense—just light work. Perfect timing, really."
Namawa didn't even try to hide it. "YES!" she blurted, bouncing on her heels before clapping both hands over her mouth. "S-Sorry—! But can we? Please? I wanna see it!"
I Am Invincible laughed softly. "Calm down dear, you're about to explode."
"I am exploding!" Namawa shot back, eyes sparkling.
Saiya peeked out from behind Black Caviar's arm. "She's the strongest one, right? The one everyone calls... Uhm, what was it again?"
"The Golden Tyrant," More Than Ready finished, grinning. "Quite the nickname if you ask me."
Fuji Kiseki laughed at the cluster of reactions. "That answers that."
"Only if it isn't an inconvenience of course." Autumn Sun clarified.
"Inconvenience?" Fuji Kiseki waved it off. "Nah. That Golden Tyrant of ours has a soft spot for kids—especially cute ones like yours." Her smile turned knowingly mischievous. "She just pretends she doesn't."
Black Caviar chuckled under her breath. "Then we'll accept the invitation."
Written Tycoon nodded once. "We'll keep a respectful distance."
"Good," Fuji Kiseki said, already turning and motioning for them to follow. "Come on, then. Let's go. I'll guide you all to the field."
The children fell into step immediately, excitement bubbling low and bright as they headed toward the field—where a golden tyrant was waiting.