Fenomeno

The morning light at Tracen Academy glinted off the metal gates as you approached, armband secured neatly around your sleeve. Patrol duty.

And your partner for the day—Fenomeno, the most disciplined, sharp-eyed Umamusume in the Public Discipline Committee.

She was already there, waiting near the gate, standing straight as a ruler. Her uniform was immaculate, her cap perfectly aligned. Even standing still, she radiated an intensity that made passersby instinctively straighten up.

When she noticed you, she turned slightly, her violet eyes glinting. “Morning patrol begins now. Stay sharp.”

You nodded, and the two of you set off down the main walkway. Fenomeno’s boots struck the pavement in crisp, deliberate rhythm, her posture perfectly balanced. Her gaze swept every corridor, every corner, every idle group of students.

The moment a pair of first-years jogged across the courtyard, laughing too loudly, she pivoted with machine precision.

“Running in the corridor is prohibited.”

Her voice—low, commanding—echoed across the walls. The laughter stopped. Both students froze, faces pale. After a beat of silence, they bowed repeatedly and scampered away.

Fenomeno watched them go, then crossed her arms, satisfied. “Discipline restored.”

You couldn’t help but exhale a small laugh. Saying that she might scared them a little bit.

She turned to you, her usual stoic face flickering with a touch of doubt.

“…Was I too loud?” Her tail twitched behind her—just once, a quick, nervous flick.

You smiled. Telling Fenomeno that she just need to tone it down a bit.

She straightened her cap, regaining composure instantly. “Understood. I will… recalibrate my tone.”

A few minutes later, you came across two upperclasswomen chatting by the vending machine. Fenomeno stopped again, stepping forward with the same commanding energy.

“You two—idle gatherings without purpose are discouraged. Please disperse.”

The girls didn’t even reply. They just scattered.

You sighed, covering your amusement with a hand.

She blinked at you, caught off guard, then frowned lightly. “I am not intimidating. Merely… efficient.”

Her tail flicked again—slower this time. You could tell she was trying to suppress her embarrassment.

After a few more stops, the two of you reached a quiet bench near the track. Fenomeno exhaled softly, pulling a small notebook from her side pouch. Inside were perfectly written notes—patrol reports, student names, even reminders to thank locals for their cooperation.

You leaned closer, admiring the neat calligraphy.

She blinked, genuinely surprised by the comment. Her gaze softened slightly.

“…I… appreciate that. Even if my expression says otherwise.”

You chuckled. Telling her that she shouldn't worry, everyone will see it one day.

For a long moment, she didn’t answer. Then, with a small nod, she closed the notebook and stood.

“Patrol isn’t over yet. Let’s move.”

The dorms were quiet that evening, the kind of calm that comes after a long training day. You were finishing up a few notes at your desk when someone slipped a small envelope under your door.

You blinked, leaning forward to pick it up.

The paper was pristine, the edges perfectly aligned, and your name was written on the front in elegant, deliberate calligraphy.

The kind that could only belong to Fenomeno.

You tore it open carefully. Inside was a single sheet of stationery, folded with precision.

To my esteemed colleague,

I wish to extend my gratitude for your cooperation during patrols this week. Your composure and assistance were invaluable in maintaining the Academy’s standards of order and safety.

May your future endeavors continue along the straight and just path.

Respectfully, Fenomeno.

The handwriting was beautiful — clean strokes, each kanji balanced, every line perfectly measured.

You couldn’t help but smile.

Later that evening, you found her outside the dorm, standing near the lamppost, checking her clipboard. Her cap was tilted slightly, as always, her posture perfect. When she saw you approaching, she straightened immediately.

“Evening patrol is complete. All clear.”

You lifted the letter, waving it slightly.

For the first time that day, her eyes widened just a little. Her tail gave a small twitch before she caught herself.

“…Ah. That was standard follow-up procedure,” she said quickly, voice a little too stiff. “Written correspondence reinforces morale and professional bonds.”

You raised an eyebrow. Asking if she writes letters for everyone.

She hesitated. Her gaze shifted, the faintest hint of red touching her cheeks.

“…Only for those who deserve them.”

You smiled, and thanked her. For a moment she looked away, pretending to straighten her cap. Her tail swayed again — slow, rhythmic, impossible for her to hide.

“…You’re welcome.”

Classes had ended, and most students were winding down for the day. You made your way through the courtyard, careful not to crush the small bouquet of flowers in your hand — and the neatly wrapped box of red bean mochis tucked under your arm.

It was April 20th — Fenomeno’s birthday.

You’d timed it carefully; late afternoon, just after her patrols, when she’d usually stop by the committee office to file her reports. Sure enough, through the window, you could see her — hat off for once, her dark hair a little messy from the wind, pen moving in steady, deliberate strokes.

Raising your hand, you knock gently on the doorframe.

She looked up immediately, those sharp violet eyes meeting yours.

“Oh. You.” Her tone carried its usual firmness, but her tail gave a slow flick. “You’re not here to report an infraction, I assume.”

You stepped inside, holding out the flowers and the box. Saying that you're actually here to see her.

She blinked. For a moment, the iron composure cracked — just slightly. Her ears tilted forward, uncertain.

“…Is that…?”

You nodded, offering them forward.

There was silence. She stared at the gifts for a beat too long, as if her brain had short-circuited trying to process the gesture. Finally, she set down her pen, standing with a rigid kind of care, like she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.

“…You remembered,” she said softly, voice lower than usual.

Her eyes flicked between the flowers and the box, then to you. “…You didn’t have to. Truly.”

When you nudged the box toward her again, she relented, taking it gingerly. Her fingers brushed yours — steady, but warm. She studied the label, realizing what it was.

“Red bean mochi…” Her voice trailed, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “My family would approve.”

She opened the bouquet next, her sharp eyes softening at the sight of the delicate arrangement.

“They’re very precise,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Perfect symmetry.”

Then she looked at you again — standing there, awkward but sincere — and her tone shifted, a rare gentleness threading through her words.

“…Thank you. For this. I—” She stopped, clearing her throat, straightening her posture as if realizing she’d dropped her guard. “…I mean, it’s appreciated.”

You laughed quietly. Telling her that she doesn't have to be so formal.

Her ears twitched. She glanced away, flustered but trying not to show it. “…Habit.”

Her tail swayed behind her in small, quick motions — the only giveaway of her mood.

You were heading home, your bag slung over your shoulder, the sound of cicadas echoing softly from the trees. The school was quiet now — most students had already left, leaving the air calm and still.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her.

Fenomeno.

Still in her student uniform, her officer’s hat perched firmly atop her head even though her committee duties were over. She stood near the garden path, glancing around as if looking for someone — her posture upright, her gaze sharp and searching.

When her eyes landed on you, she froze for a brief second. Then, without hesitation, she began walking toward you — long, confident strides, her expression unreadable.

“Ah,” she said once she stopped in front of you, voice steady as ever. “There you are.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. Asking Fenomeno if she was looking for me.

She nodded once. “Yes. I’ve been searching for you.”

There was something different in her tone — less of the usual disciplinary firmness, more of a quiet determination.

Before you could ask anything else, she took a step closer. Then another. The click of her boots echoed against the stone walkway.

“I have something important to tell you.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close she was standing now — close enough that you could see the faint reflection of the sunlight in her violet eyes.

She didn’t stop moving until your back brushed lightly against the wall behind you. Her presence filled the space — tall, confident, but strangely nervous in the way her tail flicked once behind her.

Then, her hands found yours. Firm, steady. Her eyes didn’t waver.

“I… like you.”

The words came out bluntly, straightforward — exactly like her.

Her grip tightened slightly, her voice deep but trembling just at the edges.

“I’ve tried to keep it professional, to treat you like any other classmate, but… I can’t. I admire you. You make me lose focus during patrol. I keep thinking about you, even when I shouldn’t.”

You were too stunned to respond for a moment — her face so close now that you could see the faint flush rising under her usually composed expression.

And then, as if realizing all at once how close she’d gotten, Fenomeno froze. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, and her ears twitched sharply.

“…Ah.”

She stepped back quickly, straightening her hat as if retreating behind her usual composure. Her cheeks were visibly red now, though she did her best to act unaffected.

“I— That was… direct. Too direct,” she stammered, her deep voice faltering slightly. “I should have… phrased it differently.”