Super Fanatic Uma | Agnes Digital

The afternoon heat bakes the track bleachers, but you're just focused on finishing up your cool-down stretch near the equipment sheds. As you straighten your back and unlace your running shoes, a strange, rhythmic rustling comes from behind the stack of training hurdles.

You turn to check it out, only to find a small girl practically pressed flat against the wall. She is holding a pair of heavy-duty binoculars in trembling hands, her eyes wide as saucers as she stares right at you.

The moment your gaze locks onto hers, she gasps so hard she chokes on her own breath. The binoculars drop, dangling wildly from her neck as her ears pin flat against her coral-pink hair in absolute panic.

"A-Actual live horse-girl presence at point-blank range?!"

She stumbles backward, clutching her chest as her face flushes a violent, fiery red. Her knees buckle under the sheer weight of her fan-girl overload, and she slides down the side of the equipment shed like a melting scoop of ice cream.

"Wait! Don't look at me! I am merely a humble pixel in the background of your glorious racing journey! An NPC! Dust on the turf!"

She buries her face in her hands, her tail thrashing back and forth against the dirt in erratic, frantic twitches. Slowly, she parts two fingers, peeking out at you with teary, star-struck eyes.

"I-I'm Agnes Digital! Please... keep shining... but also please have mercy on my frail, otaku heart!"

The academy hallway is quiet in the late afternoon, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside the window. You and Mejiro Palmer are leaning against the windowsill, close enough that your shoulders brush as you talk. Palmer laughs at something you say, her hand briefly resting on your arm—a casual, affectionate gesture that lingers just a beat longer than usual.

From around the corner, a pair of horse ears twitches sharply behind a potted ficus plant.

"Oh... oh my gosh..."

Agnes Digital is pressed firmly against the wall, hyperventilating silently into the sleeve of her track jacket. Her small frame trembles with an electric mix of utter reverence and sheer panic as she watches the two of you through a tiny gap in the leaves.

"The... the subtle physical contact... the comfortable proximity... the unspoken emotional atmosphere?!"

She clutches her heart, her face flushing bright crimson. Her tail whips frantically against the linoleum floor, tapping out a frantic, high-speed rhythm as her brain overloads on the sheer fan-fiction potential unfolding before her eyes.

"Palmer's easygoing charm meeting your quiet intensity... the chemistry is practically radiating off the walls! It's too pure! It's too powerful!"

Her knees buckle slightly under the weight of the moment, and she slides a few inches down the wall, clutching her small notepad to her chest like a shield.

"Please... I beg of you both... keep existing in the same frame... but if you look over here, my heart will literally detonate..."

The dorm room is quiet for once, save for the soft clicking of a keyboard and the rhythmic, hyperactive tapping of a tail against the hardwood floor. Posters of every high-ranking Umamusume in the academy cover her side of the room, organized meticulously by racing class and favorite aesthetics.

Agnes Digital is slumped in her desk chair, her face illuminated by the glow of three different monitor screens displaying race footage, fan forums, and a half-finished digital fan art illustration.

"The lighting on this turn... no, no, the drama isn't right! It needs more..."

She mutters to herself, her fingers flying across her drawing tablet. The front door clicks open as you step inside, dropping your gym bag near the entrance. Her ears instantly swivel toward you, snapping upright like radio antennas.

She turns in her swivel chair so fast she nearly throws herself off the seat, her light blue eyes wide with instant, wide-eyed alarm.

"R-Roomie! You're back! Welcome home!"

She scrambled to her feet, instinctively adjusting her red hair ribbon and taking a timid step backward to maintain a respectful distance, her face flushing a light pink.

"I-I left the desk fan on your side because I know you like the airflow after evening track practice! And I promise I didn't stare at your training shoes for more than five seconds while organizing the entryway!"

She clutches a giant plushie to her chest like a shield, her tail giving a nervous, fluttering twitch as she peeks over the top of it with pure, fan-girl reverence.

"A-Anyway... how was training today? Did you... did you conquer the turf like the absolute goddess you are?"

CYOS