Dantsu Flame

The dorm was lively — chatter echoed through the halls as the girls prepared for the team dinner that night. You’d just finished checking the schedule when a soft knock came on your office's door.

When you opened it, there stood Dantsu Flame, clutching an armful of clothes, her cheeks pink and her tail twitching nervously.

“T-Trainer, can I ask you something real quick…?”

You invited her in, and soon your office looked like a mini fashion boutique. She laid out a mix of outfits — sporty, cute, formal — all with her usual mix of pink and green accents. She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the clothes, then at you, then back at the clothes.

“So… we’re having that team dinner tonight, right? I’ve been thinking about what to wear since morning and—well, I still can’t decide!”

You tried to give her a calm suggestion, but she was already holding up one outfit.

“This one’s kinda sporty, yeah? But then again, this one’s more ‘cute’? Oh, but this jacket matches my shoes better!”

Every few seconds, she’d glance at your face for approval, her expression anxious and hopeful at the same time. You realized she wasn’t asking for fashion advice — she just wanted someone she trusted to tell her she looked okay.

Finally, she tried on a casual combination: a white top with a soft pink jacket and green checkered accessories.

“Be honest, Trainer… it’s not too much, right? I-I don’t wanna look weird next to everyone…” She looked up at you, tugging on her sleeve shyly.

You smiled and told her she looked perfect — confident, stylish, and very much herself. Her ears perked, and her face went bright red almost instantly.

“E-Eh?! You really think so? I-I mean—of course I knew that! I just… wanted to make sure, that’s all!”

Despite her flustered denial, her tail was wagging so fast you thought it might take off. She spun once in front of the mirror, pretending to check the fit — but you could see the tiny grin she tried to hide.

What was supposed to be a routine endurance session had taken an unexpected turn — thanks to Agnes Tachyon. Her latest “experiment” was a test of mental fortitude: an evening stamina course through the dim forest trail behind Tracen Academy.

You hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic about it.

And judging by the way Dantsu Flame was clinging to her towel, neither was she.

The faint light of your phone illuminated her anxious face — eyes wide, tail twitching like a live wire. Still, she tried her best to keep a brave expression, puffing out her chest with mock courage.

“H-Hey, Trainer… ghosts aren’t real, right? Tachyon’s just trying to spook us for fun. Y-Yeah?”

You gave a reassuring smile, telling her it was just a bit of fun. That seemed to calm her — until something rustled in the bushes.

Her tail shot straight up.

“...That was the wind.”

She nodded to herself, clearly unconvinced. Her sneakers crunched on the gravel path beside yours, the silence of the forest occasionally broken by her nervous humming. Every time a leaf fell, her ears twitched; every time a twig snapped, she inched a little closer.

When a stray owl hooted in the distance, she jumped—and before you could react, she had grabbed your arm tightly.

“S-sorry! Reflex! I just— You’re warm, that’s all!”

Her words tumbled over each other as she pulled away, cheeks glowing red under the pale light. She forced a small laugh and waved her hands, trying to play it cool.

“Totally fine. I’m totally fine. I just thought… maybe it was Café again, you know? Whispering to her ‘friends.’ Haha…”

You bit back a chuckle, reminding her that Manhattan Café wasn’t hiding in the forest — probably.

The two of you pressed on. Her earlier panic gave way to a quiet determination; she wanted to prove she wasn’t scared. Yet, when a gust of wind made the trees creak and the shadows twist, she instinctively reached for your sleeve again.

“You won’t tell Jungle about this, right? Or Tachyon. Or anyone.”

You promised, and she exhaled in relief, her hand still lightly gripping your jacket. The rest of the route went smoothly, her breathing steadier now — though her tail continued to sway nervously.

When you finally returned to the track lights, she slumped to the ground, laughing weakly.

“You know what? I think I trained my heart rate more than my legs today.”

You handed her a bottle of water, and she took it with a grateful grin — soft, tired, and genuine.

“Still… thanks, Trainer. For walking with me. I, uh… don’t think I could’ve done that alone.”

She looked down, fidgeting with her towel before flashing a bashful smile.

“But don’t get used to me holding onto you like that, okay? Next time, I’ll be the one protecting you from ghosts.”

Her voice trembled just slightly, but her eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth — Dantsu Flame’s quiet courage glowing brighter than any flashlight in the dark.

The day had been long — an intense training session followed by a meeting about the next lineup.

You noticed Dantsu Flame had been quieter than usual, her usual cheer replaced by a distant look in her amber eyes. She’d lost a race earlier that day — not by much, but enough that it clearly weighed on her.

By the time you wrapped up paperwork and stepped outside, the academy grounds were empty. The evening air was cool, the kind that carried faint traces of grass and wind. That’s when you saw her — sitting on the edge of the training track, legs drawn close, tail still, a small pack of powdered cheese in hand.

She didn’t notice you at first. Her head tilted down, her voice soft when she finally spoke. You called out gently. She turned, surprised, then gave a small wave.

"Ah… hey, Trainer. Sorry if I worried you. I just… wanted some quiet time.”

You approached, sitting beside her. The scent of sweat and grass still clung to her, but her expression was peaceful — if not a little tired. You asked if something was wrong.

She hesitated, twirling the empty cheese packet between her fingers.

“I really thought I could win this time, Trainer.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I pushed harder than before… but it’s like I was running in place.”

After a pause, she turned toward you, eyes glinting in the faint stadium lights.

“Jungle said losing’s just part of it. Tachyon said it’s data. But… I still hate it. It’s not just the race. It’s like— I let everyone down.” Her shoulders slumped.

You shook your head, reminding her that effort wasn’t failure — that trying, again and again, was her strength. That her smile, her warmth, and her steadiness were what kept the team going when things got tough.

For a moment, she blinked in surprise — then smiled, soft and relieved, her tail flicking faintly.

“Heh… you’re always too kind, Trainer.”

A pause followed — the kind that doesn’t need to be filled.

Then, she rummaged in her bag and pulled out another small cheese packet, holding it out with both hands like a peace offering.

“Here. My ‘lucky cheese.’ I only share this with important people, you know?”

You accepted it with a small smile. She beamed, cheeks faintly red.

“Hehe… maybe it’ll bring us both some wins.”