Chaotic Duo | Daitaku Helios and Mejiro Palmer

The afternoon sun beats down on the main turf track of Tracen Academy, baking the turf in a wave of late-summer heat. You roll your shoulders, smoothing down the front of your gym uniform as you finish up a grueling set of solo interval sprints. Taking a deep breath of the warm air, you reach down to adjust the laces of your running shoes near the perimeter fence, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead.

A high-pitched, metallic beat suddenly shatters the quiet atmosphere.

"Wei! Check it, check it! The vibes on this straightaway are straight-up peak today! Total peak energy, no cap!"

You snap your head toward the noise. Rounding the corner of the bleachers is Daitaku Helios. She is wearing her Tracen track jacket loosely off one shoulder, swinging a portable pastel speaker that blares a fast-tempo EDM track, her ears twitching in chaotic sync to the beat.

Loping right beside her—hands clasped behind her head in an effortless, lazy stride—is Mejiro Palmer. She wears an oversized hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, her expression radiating an easygoing, carefree warmth.

"Helios, take it down a notch," Mejiro Palmer laughs, her tail giving a lazy, friendly sway. "If the student council catches you blasting club tracks by the track shed again, Air Groove is gonna assign us bleacher-scrubbing duty until winter."

Daitaku Helios, dramatically clapping both hands over her mouth before her bright green eyes instantly lock onto you. Her horse ears snap straight up like dual radar dishes. "Wait, hold up, stop the tape! Who's the new face dropping in on our scene?!"

Before you can even straighten up from your shoe laces, Helios covers the distance between you in a flash, her sheer speed startling you. She leans in close, her eyes sparkling with unbridled excitement as she tilts her head, taking in your posture, your running gear, and the sheer presence you radiate post-workout.

"Whoa, total top-tier aura! The aesthetic? Clean! The post-sprint glow? Absolutely serving! Are you a newcomer to the turf, or did you just drop down from the heavenly tracks?!" Helios chatters at a mile a minute, gesticulating wildly with both hands, her slang coming out in an uninterrupted, high-energy stream. "I'm Daitaku Helios! The ultimate gal of the turf! What's your name?! What's your vibe?! What's your favorite track distance?!"

"Whoa, easy there, Helios. Give them room to breathe," the pink-haired girl steps up, gently slinging an arm over Helios's shoulder to pull her back half a step. She gives you an apologetic, remarkably charming grin, her amber eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sorry about her—she operates at 101 percent capacity at all times. I'm Mejiro Palmer. Yeah,* that Mejiro family, though I'm pretty much the black sheep of the house who prefers running wild over sitting through tea parties."

Palmer extends a hand toward you, her gesture warm, casual, and completely devoid of the formal stiffness you might expect from someone carrying one of the most prestigious names in racing history.

"We saw you taking those turns from across the field," Palmer continues, her eyes twinkling with genuine admiration as she looks you over. "That line you held through the final arc was incredible. Your stride rhythm didn't break for a second, even in this heat."

"Real talk! Absolute god-tier form!" Helios chimes in, bouncing on her heels, her tail thrashing back and forth in a hyperactive rhythm that kicks up tiny flecks of dirt. "We were literally just talking about hitting the track for some front-runner pacing drills! You gotta join the squad! Let's turn this track into a full-on party!"

You look between the two of them—Helios's blinding, unfiltered enthusiasm and Palmer's easy, welcoming charm. Standing under the warm sun, surrounded by the infectious energy of Tracen's most iconic duo, it becomes instantly clear that your training routine is about to become a whole lot louder, a lot faster, and infinitely more fun.

The cool evening breeze sweeps over the floodlit track at Tracen Academy, a welcome relief after a grueling multi-lap pacing drill. You lean back against the aluminum bleachers, catching your breath with a towel draped over your shoulders. A second later, a cold, condensation-covered soda can is pressed against your cheek, making you jump.

"Catch! You earned it, partner," Palmer chuckles, sinking down onto the metal bench right next to you with a satisfied sigh. She pops the tab on her own drink, resting her elbows on her knees as her tail swishes lazily over the edge. Her coral-pink hair is damp with sweat, but her usual easygoing grin is firmly in place. "Man, that last lap was brutal. You really pushed the pace on that final turn—I thought my lungs were gonna burst trying to keep up with you."

Before you can even take a sip, a sudden whirlwind of neon pink and bright blonde bursts out from the track shed.

"Paging all front-runners! Party on the bleachers, let's gooo!" Helios skids to a halt right in front of the two of you, her twin pigtails whipping through the air as she holds up three glowing neon energy drinks like trophies. "We just shattered our team best for twilight sprints! That is pure, unadulterated peak energy! We gotta celebrate!"

Helios flops down on your other side, crowding into your space without a second thought and slinging a sweaty arm around your neck. She shoves her phone right between your face and hers, snapping a quick, chaotic selfie before you can even react. The flash blinds you for a split second as she flashes a peace sign, her horse ears twitching wildly against your hair.

"Look at this aura! Absolute top-tier squad vibes!" Helios squeals, rapidly tapping her screen to upload the photo. "Captioning this: 'Late night turf squad hitting different! No cap!' The fan forums are gonna go crazy over this dynamic!"

"Give 'em a second to breathe, Helios," Palmer laughs softly, nudging your shoulder with hers in a familiar, comforting rhythm. "Though she's not wrong. Training used to feel like a drag before you started running with us. Now? I actually look forward to destroying my legs every afternoon."

Palmer leans her head back against the bleacher railing, looking up at the night sky with a warm, contented expression, while Helios excitedly rambles on about a new dance routine she wants the three of you to try after tomorrow's cooldown.

"Real talk, though," Helios suddenly softens her voice, peering at you with bright green, unexpectedly sincere eyes. "We're super glad you're in our corner. Running fast is fun, but running fast with you guys? Literal god-tier tier experience."

"Amen to that," Palmer adds softly, raising her can toward you with a wink. "To the best trio Tracen's ever seen."

The blinding midday sun beats down on the pristine white sand, turning the ocean waves into a sparkling turquoise mirror. The ambient roar of the surf is punctuated by the distant calls of seagulls and the upbeat, thumping rhythm of a Bluetooth speaker nestled in the sand near your beach umbrella. You sit on a brightly patterned towel, adjusting your sunglasses and applying a fresh layer of sunscreen after a long swimming session.

A sudden spray of cold saltwater hits your shoulders, making you wince as a shadow falls over your towel.

"Wei! Check the marine aesthetic!" Daitaku Helios cheers, striking an over-the-top, magazine-cover pose right at the edge of your towel.

She is wearing a vibrant, neon-pink and lime-green string bikini detailed with ruffled trim and colorful bead accents, perfectly matching her hyperactive gyaru style. Her twin pigtails are secured with waterproof pastel scrunchies, and her bright green eyes shine behind a pair of oversized, heart-shaped sunglasses perched on her nose. Her tail thrashes back and forth, kicking up little sprays of dry sand.

"The sun is serving pure peak heat today! Total summer-god vibes!" Helios chatters at maximum speed, grabbing a neon-yellow inflatable flamingo pool float under one arm. "We gotta get the beach photos locked in right now before the golden hour hits! The lighting on these waves is straight-up art!"

"Helios, give 'em two minutes to catch their breath before you start a full photoshoots," Palmer's easygoing voice cuts through the music.

Mejiro Palmer strolls up beside her, carrying a cooler bag over one shoulder. She wears a athletic yet flattering dark navy two-piece bikini featuring clean lines and a sporty cut that accents her tall, toned frame. Her messy coral-pink hair is tied back into a loose, low ponytail, and an unbuttoned, sheer white linen shirt hangs loosely off her shoulders to shade her skin from the intense UV rays. She offers you a warm, charming grin, her amber eyes crinkling with genuine relaxation.

"Here, caught you off guard with that swim earlier," Palmer says, pulling an ice-cold coconut water out of the cooler and tossing it gently into your lap. "You were kicking up a storm out past the breakers. I had to sprint just to keep up with your lap times in the open water."

"Real talk! Your ocean-pacing form was top-tier!" Helios chimes in, dropping the giant flamingo float right next to your towel and flopping down into the sand beside you without a second thought. "We are officially declaring this beach day a maximum-tier success! Next up: three-way beach volleyball, or do we launch the flamingo into the surf first?!"

"Let's let them finish their drink first, gal," Palmer chuckles, sinking down onto the towel on your other side and leaning back on her elbows, stretching her long legs out into the warm sand.

Palmer looks over at you with a soft, content smile, the gentle sea breeze rustling her linen shirt as the rhythmic sound of the waves settles over the three of you.

"Though... I wouldn't mind seeing who can sprint to the buoy and back first," Palmer adds with a playful wink, her horse ears flicking with subtle competitive spirit. "What do you say? Ready to see how a real uma handles the ocean?"

CYOS