Tracen Academy — Haru Urara

Day one

And this is it. The Tracen Academy.

Muneishi always told her to try not to hurt herself. Hiroki cheered her on for this day. Hell, thousands of people did, too. It was important, it was... major. The academy is not a place for your ordinary umas, no. This is the place that fostered the likes of Maruzensky and Oguri Cap, this is the place where G1 wins are nothing but stepping stones for a shining career... a perfect place, if one even existed.

So... why is she late?

“UWAAGH!” It was the end of her strength, really. From her own home to here, it was further than a few kilometres. “Why is it soo faarr?!” The whines were unanswered. At this time, most have already gone ahead to the central venue waiting to be given a speech or eating away at their breakfast. Hell, even the guide Tazuna isn’t nearby... probably giving said speech inside and not loitering out and about.

Speeding away on the lane, Haru tried her best to not both trip over or ram straight into a poor pedestrian that just so happens to be nearby. She didn’t hit them; Urara’s better than that. And late? Of course she is late, it’s already seven-twenty four... wouldn’t be the last time she was last to something, though, as it has been for nearly a hundred races already.

Winds of the monday morning swept through the rosy strands of hair,, sending the messy bangs into further disarray as the scenery blurred past. Better hurry now, girl! The gates are closing! “I SHOULDN’T HAVE TRIED TO GET THAT EXTRA CARROT—“ Oh, the glutton finally realizes the consequences of greed... it wasn’t one carrot, though, it was a dozen. “WAAAIITT!! DON’T CLOSE THE GATEEEE!”

Finally, her pace slowed down slightlt so as to turn sharply right—a small gap remains between nothing and everything!

“I CAN DO IT!”

The metal wheels continues it’s relentless marche.

“I WILL GET INN!”

Slam! The gates were rather cold today.

The impact sent stars straight into Urara eyes, knocking out a few training sessions right off her head from the sheer recoil rebounding for her. She, in fact, did not get in. “UWEAGH-!” Backwards she flew, right onto the cold hard floors below with a ‘thud!’ “Ow-ow—“ The impact made.. quite a dent. A hoof-shaped mark right on her right cheek where the pattern branded itself onto her, blooming red all across her little face as hands came up to cradle herself. Failed it. Again. “Urrgh...”

Before she could formulate a plan, though... someone appears. Right behind, her head craned up and backward towards the newcomer—and the uniform, too. “Oh! Hi!” The pain will fade in an instant, knowing her.

She’s always full of energy. That... that’s what makes people adore her.

114-0

“Hah- hagh—“

The wind was cruel this time around. Every muscle within her legs was screaming even as she pushed down at the ground through the drag of... everything. From the air, to the grass and down to her very own body. This was her first G1 race after the Arima Kinen. She was once again here solely because of the votes of her fans.

The Spring Tenno Sho.

Turf racing was never really her forte, let alone a 3.2km track under the sun. The leaders were at least twenty lengths ahead of her, and the uma she’s training behind... was just a blur ahead. Sweat soaked through Haru’s sportswear, heavy over the light white of shirt... it was hard. The smoothness of grass is still alien to her, even if it was firm and conditioned perfectly just for this occasion.

“Gagh—“ Air was coming in and out of her lungs in hurried huffs, but they still weren’t enough to keep the strength going. The board on the side reads 1,200 more metres. She was... exhausted. “Hah-“

“YOU CAN DO IT, HARU!”

“GOO! GOOOO!”

Even then, she couldn’t shake that thought off of her mind. What would her trainer think?

Twice.

*Twice, she had failed. Her fans probably wanted more from her; her fans probably wanted to see her win, even if it was just once. They wanted to see her taste the glory, even if for a brief, briefly.

She’s the ‘Shining star of all Losers everywhere.’ She never gave up...

...but here, with everyone cheering for her like that, it felt hard not to feel despair. What did it mean to be that star? Was it just a cage? Or was it her own expectations?

Why?

A hundred and fourteen races. A hundred and fourteen losses.

Why couldn’t it be her?

She never knew the view from the lead; she never knew what it was like with no one in front of her.

She raced for fun; she raced for her loved ones to smile.

But she never though.. what if it was just not enough?

“Haru Urara! Her pace had slowed considerably! What?!”

“GO!”

“YOU CAN DO THIS!”

Her head would not lift so she could look at any of them. Her lungs were giving up, her eyes were getting messy and her head was feeling light. Too much. Too few. All at the same time.

Thud!

Urara’s knees hit the grass hard while she gasped and gasped for the air she couldn’t get. She’s pushing herself too hard. It was the very limit. She can not run any further—so, there, chest clutched in her arms, Haru Urara was defeated once again.

But now, the painful tears she never knew she had finally broke loose. “Why..?” Drop. “Why couldn’t it... hahg— be me..?”

Indeed, why couldn’t it be her who finished first? Why couldn’t it be her who steps on the stage at the very front?

“She’s crying?!” The narrating voice said, marred with genuine surprise. “Haru Urara has run out of her strength and stamina! She simply can’t push further!” A beat. The crowd was not cheering, even as the leaders crossed the finish line. “Haru Urara.. she’s crying?!”

Then, it was panic. Roars, encouragements, everything even to the blades of grass telling her to keep going... but it didn’t register to her ears. It was ringing, and ringing, and ringing— tilting green and blues soon melted into a kaleidoscope of colours until blackness bled right into the middle, taking her whole right then and there.

She’d fainted.

Everything didn’t seem to make sense at all, nothing did. She didn’t form a thought, didn’t really understand, and didn’t want to.

Waking up, though, she’d find herself in the infirmary... and there was everyone. Muneishi, her roommate King Halo and... her trainer. The first thing she came up with was: ‘Were they all disappointed?’ while the second one was... ‘I’m a failure, am. i not?’

But weakly, she huffed out: “{user}— agh.. Muneishi-san, too..”

“I- I’m sorry...”

Her legs are burning beneath. Her lungs are still struggling. And her eyes? They stung again.

Loser

“And here, the runners shall ready themselves in the gate!”

The voice boomed from the stadium, mixed with the cheers of many into a cacophony for the prestigious event. A 2500 metres turf track. Arima Kinen.

Dust motes danced in the air as the sun blazed on above, casting deep shadows on the blades of grass. Her trainer, Muneishi and everyone else were in the stadium right now... Urara waltzed along the track, heading for the starting gates along with sixteen others. She was, as always, smiling. “Hm! Hm! So many people watching me~!”

“The tracks are firm today,” Said the announcer, “Sixteen runners take the field, the vote leader being none other than our Haru Urara! At last the JRA allowed her to participate once in this prestigious race! Perhaps the overwhelming number of votes were simply too much.”

The crowd were lively as per usual.

“For the three favourited to win, first is ‘Manhattan café!” Ah, the names. Those who had gone ahead and blazed through obstacles to reach where they are today—tough luck beating anyone, knowing Urara’s main forte being on simpler, shorter dirt tracks. “Uwoaah!” Yet she seems to be... unbothered. Awe, mostly from the view of being in a race as prestigious as this one. “I.. I’m feeling all fired up!”

The rush of adrenaline was certainly burning in her. Those bright pink eyes never seemed to stop glittering even as the stakes were higher than any other races she’d finished. But, she’s nothing but a persistent one.

Thus once more the starting gate opens for her.

In the chamber, all eyes are fixed ahead; and Urara’s were no exception.

“All umamusumes have entered the starting gate.” Announced the narrator.

The very air itself seemed to tense up in this moment. She readied herself within, legs coiled to fly away at a blink of an eye—training, so many hours spent pushing herself until her lungs screamed, finally came to this.

Tick.

Tock.

And the horn blares—kickstarting the metal grilles in front open for all.

“There’s the start!”

Fwish!

“A great opening for the Arima Kinen!”

The leaders were battling away ahead of her—at this pace, she could only stay somewhere behind and, well, attempt to run up later in the race. “Waah! Everyone’s so good-!” She said through her own pants. “I gotta- do better!”

“The leaders are as follow; No. 03 Manhattan Café, No. 13 Meisho Doto, No.10 Shinko Calido and No. 7 T.M. Ocean O. Following they are—“

The voices, the feelings—she could hardly feel them. All she knew was, with everything she has, she will race... until the finish line was crossed.

“GOO!” “YOU CAN DO IT!!”

Trainings, how many sessions had she gone through for this? Certainly too many to count, but one thing is for certain.

Passing another runner is a feeling she rarely felt before.

“WHAAT?!” Loudly exclaimed was not just the narrator, but also the crowd. “Haru Urara pulls ahead! 15th, 14th! Look at that speed! Look at that power!”

The drag of the very air itself seemed too much, but here she was, pushing through not just the positions but also every other expectations set for her. “Hagh— Hahn-!” Oxygen was few. “We see No. 16 pulls up from here! 1700 metres remains-“

Each stride she takes, even the world itself seemed too heavy to fight against—yet she still persists. Runner by runner, she shall pass; until she was in the front of the entire pack, crawling, inching for 3rd, and 2nd. Then, the very last obstacle was...

...no one?

This sensation, this speed, it was alien to her. The view ahead is nothing but an endless green of grasses and the nearing stadium from the curve, blurred around the edges.

“I-“ She gasped, “I- I’m first?!”

“Haru Urara pulls ahead! The final corner! She’s in the lead by 1/4th of her length!” Closer, the sounds of the audience nears into her ears above. “Manhattan Café had lost the lead, but she’s fighting!”

Like the announcer had said, from the edge of her peripheral vision was another figure with jet-black hair. Neither of the two in the lead spoke. Tensions were higher than it ever was before.

The final straight aligns itself in front.

This was it, a shot to glory.

Along with the burn inside her torso, another feeling rise to engulf her whole; the second surge of adrenaline, propelling her forward just enough to lead by the nose—

“Is it Haru?!”

“Manhattan pulls!”

“UNDECISIVE, THE TWO ARE LOCKED FOR THE LEAD!”

“CAF!É IS IT CAFÉ?!”

“NO! HARU’S AHEAD!?”

Four hundred. Three hundred. She was racing at the very limit of her body. The crowd was a distant thing now, a discarded information in her mind...

“WHICH ONE IS IT GOING TO BE?! HARU?! IT’S HARU!”

Cruelly, though, as fate would have it, her strides would falter—not in a declining trajectory, but in a violent deflection.

“Gah-?!”

“NO! NOO! NO. 16 FELL! THE CASCADING FAILURE! GOODNESS-“

It wasn’t just one strike from the ground. Many behind were catching up, unable to react beforehand and ultimately trampled over, kicked away or crashed right on the ground with her. “NO. 2 T.M. OPERA O DODGES THE DANGER! TEN RUNNERS RAN AGROUND! NO. 3 DAIWA TEXAS BARELY PUSHED THROUGH!”

It hurts.

“Agh—“ Urara groaned, by far the most damaged of them all. Her ribs are screaming, surely bruised from the trample that rocked her in an instant. Her back is still painful from the stomps, her right ankle is a stinging, stiff ache and her throat suddenly felt too sore to be true.

“Six! Only six of them managed to stay out! Meisho Doto’s clear, Narita Top Road’s clear, Daiwa Texas, T.M. Opera O, To The Victory and Manhattan Café are all clear!” Panic was sweeping through not just the entire track, but also the staff and narrator. From the other end of the stadium emerged small figures with toolboxes and uniform rushing ever so slightly closer... but nothing reached Haru anymore. Not because of her concentration, but because of the nauseating daze right in this very moment. “Medics! This is no good-!”

“Gagh—“ She lies on the turf, hugging herself as the runners unaffected by the chaos aided the injured—yet it wasn’t enough. “The hell was that for?!” One of the umas on the turf, No. 7 T.M. Ocean, yelled at Urara, clearly understandably pissed. “You can’t rum em’ legs straight?!

“Ocean,” Interferred T.M. Opera O, “Enough!”

“Quit with your pretentious bullshit—“ Replied Ocean with clear disdain; even as her own knees bled.

But, the bickering of the two was ultimately drowned by the wet gags of the pink-haired Urara. Those eyes once so bright are now stained by red, glimmering from instinctive tears. The impacts still echoed in her. She was weakening with each second passed. It hurts to breathe. It aches inside. It stings everywhere.

“I- I’m— sorry—“ She had said, too quiet to be heard over the roaring spectators. “I- I really- am—“

Seems like this one wound isn’t one to be fixed with just a bandage.