A/N: Anyone brief me about Rice Shower's lore? Why she be getting hate on? I ain't going through 10 pages full of words.
Anyways, daily check-ins...
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They were halfway down the corridor when Dante slowed, then stopped outright.
"Ah, right! I almost forgot." He said, glancing back at Silver Tear.
"Post-race dancing."
She took two more steps on sheer momentum before coming to a halt, the words trailing after her.
When she turned, her expression was vacant, eyes unfocused, as if Dante had just said something completely unrelated to her.
"…What do you mean by 'dancing'?" She raised an eyebrow, the motion slow and skeptical.
Dante watched her carefully, clearly concerned about her after what happened just now. "If you don't want to."
He kept going without waiting for her response. "I can talk to the staff. Finding a plausible excuse isn't that hard."
Silver Tear stared at him.
Her face was empty in a way that suggested her thoughts had temporarily left her head.
Somewhere behind that spaced-out expression, her brain was working overtime trying to break down what, exactly, Danteh was talking about and why any of this was happening to her now.
"Oho. Head empty. Not a thought behind those eyes." Gold Ship chimed in. Clearly, she wouldn't miss something like this.
Silver Tear blinked.
"...Dancing?" She repeated flatly.
"Yes, that one." Dante nodded.
She looked down at her legs, then flexed her fingers as if testing whether she still owned them.
"I just ran my ass off out there..." She pointed her finger toward the track.
"I know."
"And now, they want me to dance?" She continued, locking her gaze with her torena.
Dante exhaled. "You don't have to. I mean it."
Her brow furrowed slightly, less with anger than with genuine confusion.
"But why is this even a thing?" The question came out slow, deliberately.
Silver Tear began to question who in their right mind would make such a ridiculous arrangement and why everyone around seemed okay with it.
It truly baffled her.
Dante paused, choosing his words with care. "You know… these post-race dances are, uh, important."
"…Important." Silver Tear repeated.
"For visibility. Sponsors. Public image. Fan engagement..." Dante continued, rolling out the reasoning in a practiced cadence.
By the time he reached the end of the list, a bead of sweat had formed at his temple. Silver Tear's stare hadn't wavered once.
If she could bore a hole with a stare, Dante might be dead by now.
That stare was flat and devastatingly focused, the kind of look that suggested she already knew he was bullshiting and was only waiting for him to trip over his own words.
"…So it's money." She said.
Dante faltered, the words catching in his throat. "I wouldn't phrase it like that."
He admitted after a beat. "But yes. Money."
Silence hung between them for a moment.
"Do I get extra cash for that?" Silver Tear asked.
"Well, yeah, you get a decent cut from the revenue of the concert." Dante replied. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then waved the matter away, already retreating. "...Let's just forget it. I will call the staff, and we'll go eat."
Just as Dante was about to head toward the nearby staff, Silver Tear reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him mid-step.
"…Nah." She said. "I'll do it."
Dante turned back, frowning as he searched for any sign that she was forcing herself into it. "You're sure?"
"Yep. I shall dance… for the money."
Silver Tear's expression settled into one of quiet resignation, the look of someone thinking, if I don't go to hell, who will?
She waved a hand as if to soften it. "I mean running shoes and related necessities. Being a trainer requires a lot of funding, right? Might as well earn as much as possible."
With that, she was already heading toward the changing room, steps brisk.
"Sometimes." Dante muttered, rubbing his head. "I find it hard to tolerate your shamelessness."
He already had a cut from the prize pool, so the rest of the money went into her pocket.
What is she talking about? Being a trainer cost a lot? Excuse!! All excuses!!
Silver Tear glanced back over her shoulder, looking perfectly neutral. "This is fund acquisition. What shame is there?"
Dante had no rebuttal. He couldn't win against his Uma in this battle of words anyway.
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The stage lights flared to life, bleaching the world into sharp whites and saturated color.
Silver Tear stepped into position as the music began, her body responding on instinct alone. Each motion was clean and economical, stripped of excess. She danced flawlessly.
Arms rose and fell in time with the rhythm, steps landing with practiced precision.
To the crowd, it was a polished performance–graceful, composed, worthy of applause.
To the cameras, she was exactly what they wanted to see.
Her eyes, however, told a different story.
As she turned, her gaze lifted from the floor and swept across the stands, slow and deliberate.
She did not search for cheers, nor did she seek approval from the people in front of her.
Her eyes passed over the crowd like a blade drawn flat, cold, and measured, committing details to memory.
There.
The man who had cursed at her the loudest.
There.
A group leaning forward, enjoying the spectacle of her victory, with faint disappointment still leaking through their expressions.
She met their stares without blinking.
The music swelled.
Silver Tear spun, skirt flaring, her expression serene. When she faced the audience again, her eyes were clear and sharp, reflecting the stage lights without a trace of warmth.
Her steps never faltered. Every movement was controlled, almost severe in its elegance, as if the resentment she carried had been compressed into something usable, something precise.
Applause rose.
Silver Tear did not smile.
When the final note struck, she held her pose, chin lifted, gaze forward. For a heartbeat, her eyes swept the seats one last time, faces etched into memory.
Then she bowed.
The crowd roared.
Silver Tear stole a glance at Oguri Cap, who was still waving at the crowd, smiled bright and unburdened, and let out a quiet sigh.
Envy settled in her chest, slow and heavy. How could that gray Uma Musume stand under all of this and remain untouched by the sticky, muddy underside of the sport?
Oguri Cap ran, smiled, waved. That was it. No second thoughts, no bitterness, no calculations lurking behind her eyes.
Silver Tear swallowed.
She was different from Oguri Cap at the core. An Uma Musume with a human mind, cursed with awareness she could never turn off.
'Since I could not be like you...' She thought, watching the way Oguri's joy reached the crowd so effortlessly. 'Then striking down others' hopes and dreams to build a path toward you… That's reasonable, don't ya think so?'
The thought did not come with guilt. It arrived calm and methodical.
The race track was never one for the dreamer. It was a place for reality to shatter them.
Applause washed over the stage again, and Silver Tear bowed when required, her movements precise, rehearsed.
When she straightened, Oguri Cap glanced her way and offered a quick, genuine grin, as if they were sharing something simple and mutual.
Silver Tear looked away.
If Oguri Cap ran because she could, then Silver Tear would run to prove something else entirely.
Expectations. The fragile optimism of bettors. The shallow admiration of the fans who loved her image more than her effort.
She would use all of that hateful thing as fuel to keep herself running.
If dreams had to be broken to close the distance between them, so be it. It was the only way for a Mud Dweller to reach out to the Star.
"I will reach the stars with nothing but this pride of being chosen by them."
She stepped off the stage with measured strides, the noise fading behind her. Her path was already clear in her mind. It was narrow, ruthless, and entirely her own.
Let them see how this racing thing operates and–
Fall into despair.
"Oh, how I both hate and love this feeling."
For Silver Tear, only those who could face the adversity head-on and persevere were qualified to stand on the track.
The rest, however, should remain at the stand.
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A/N: I think I wrote the latter part with pure hatred. Alright, maybe with a little bit of seeing how it would be from a normal person's standpoint. Can't get all sunny and bright story all the time, right?
Also, marvelous sunday song keep playing in my head!! RAGHH!