A month had rolled by in the blink of an eye. Winter loosened its grip on the Ashigawa Academy, the heavy frost giving way to the soft breath of spring. The gardens were blooming, the track no longer frozen solid, and the academy's name was beginning to bloom again as well.
One by one, their Umas carved their names into the season's races:
Vodka stormed the Tulip Sho.
Scarlet danced her way to the Yayoi Sho crown.
Mayano Top Gun exploded at the Flower Cup.
And just recently, Tachyon — bright, erratic, unstoppable Tachyon — tore apart the Spring Stakes.
Akuma stood before the mirror in the restaurant's bathroom, washing his hands. Droplets of water traced down his wrists as he lifted his gaze to his own reflection. A rare chuckle escaped him, low and genuine.
"…Who would've thought," he murmured.
Never had he imagined that rebuilding Ashigawa, his beloved academy — his home, his wreck, his battlefield — would only take a little over a year. Never had he imagined seeing their banner carried so high again.
His reflection smiled back at him, tired but proud.
Then, a faint echo of laughter — memory, not sound — brushed through his mind. His smile faltered, lips twitching downward. He shut his eyes, inhaled, then shook it off.
"Tonight's a celebration," he muttered firmly.
He dried his hands and stepped out, back into the buzz of voices, clatter, and… sighs?
The table should've been bursting with cheer, but instead he returned to find every Uma, especially his three — McQueen, Special Week, Tachyon — slumped in their seats with dead eyes. Their chopsticks hung limply in their fingers, their plates barren. Even Vodka, who was usually bouncing off the walls, looked drained.
"…What's wrong with you guys?" Akuma deadpanned.
In eerie unison, they all lifted their arms and pointed.
At Oguri Cap.
The silver-haired Uma sat innocently, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, happily chewing through her twenty-seventh plate. Plate after plate clattered down the conveyor belt, only to vanish into her bottomless stomach before anyone else could so much as blink. She didn't even pause to breathe, as if conveyor-belt sushi were her natural prey.
Akuma blinked once. Twice. And then he realized his mistake.
He had taken them all to a conveyor-belt sushi restaurant.
And he had seated Oguri Cap at the front of the belt.
"…I got it," he sighed, voice heavy with resignation.
Before anyone else could protest, he scooped Oguri up by the waist, and carried her down the counter, setting her firmly at the far end. She barely blinked, still chewing, still reaching for another plate with mechanical consistency. McQueen, Special Week, and Tachyon quickly scrambled over to sit beside her, forming an impromptu barricade.
Akuma picked up a tissue and leaned in, wiping a few stray rice grains from Oguri's cheek. "Honestly… your appetite is terrifying."
She only hummed happily, still eating.
McQueen giggled, her hand covering her mouth. "But it is nice, isn't it? Seeing her enjoy herself like this."
"Mm!" Tachyon nodded rapidly, jotting down notes. "An appetite like that is proof of extraordinary metabolic function. A wonderful test subject!"
Adalbert burst into laughter, flamboyant as always, and swiped a couple plates now that the belt was finally moving again. With a theatrical flourish, he slid one plate in front of Rice Shower, who startled before mumbling thanks and nibbling. Scarlet and Vodka had started their own contest: who could survive the most wasabi without crying. Scarlet was winning, though just barely.
The atmosphere grew lively again. Teio had joined them too — invited by McQueen — and was already trying to compete with her on who could eat more plates. It ended in laughter when Akuma pointed out that Oguri had silently devoured twice their count without slowing.
Tachyon, never idle, tried to sneak a bite into Akuma's mouth with a sparkle in her eye.
He shot her a flat look, raising one brow. "…Nice try. What did you lace it with?"
"Tch." She clicked her tongue, caught.
Special Week laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.
Down the table, chaos bloomed. Gold Ship was stacking clumps of sushi rice onto Mischa's shoulders, sculpting him into some kind of living rice statue. Manhattan Café, meanwhile, was quietly sliding coffee-drenched rolls onto Mischa's plate, her dark eyes glimmering with quiet amusement. Mischa, stoic as ever, accepted both indignities without resistance.
"Fwaaah, this is so fun!" Vodka grinned, her cheeks flushed red from the wasabi heat as Adalbert fussed over her, pressing a glass of water into her hand.
Scarlet sighed, finally waving the white flag against the wasabi duel. "Yeah… I just wish we could've invited Ma-chan. She was pretty bummed after losing the Yayoi Sho."
The chopsticks in Akuma's hand froze.
For just a second, no one noticed.
But McQueen — seated closest to him — caught the subtle shift. The air around him tightened, his shoulders stiffened, his jaw tensed. His eyes lowered, shadowed.
"…Akuma-san?" McQueen's voice was gentle, concerned.
Before she could press, Akuma set his chopsticks down with deliberate calm. "Excuse me," he murmured, standing. He walked toward the bathroom without another word.
McQueen's brows furrowed, worry filling her. She turned quickly to Adalbert. "Adalbert-sensei… what was that?"
The flamboyant trainer's smile faltered. His eyes softened, a wistful heaviness falling over him. "…Hahaha… I did not expect you to know that name," he said quietly, avoiding her gaze.
Mischa, still covered in rice and half-buried under Gold Ship's mischief, shrugged. "…Honestly, we couldn't keep it hidden forever, could we?"
Adalbert sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No. We could not."
Teio tilted her head, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. "Huh? Ma-chan? Oh! You mean her! She's amazing, isn't she? Always gives it her all… though…" Teio's voice dimmed a little, "…she's always so sad. Still, she's soooo good! Always placing third or fourth! Every race!"
Her cheerfulness only made the silence from the older trainers heavier.
Tachyon exhaled sharply, her usual gleam dulled. She knew. Of course she knew.
"Adalbert-sensei," McQueen said more firmly, her gaze unwavering. "Please. I want to know."
Adalbert's smile quivered, breaking for the first time. He opened his mouth — searching for an excuse, a diversion — but the sound of footsteps interrupted him.
Akuma returned.
His expression was calm, but too calm. His eyes were steady, but shadowed. He sat back down at the head of the table, folding his arms on the wood, and exhaled slowly.
"…I'll do it," he said at last, his voice low. The room hushed, even Gold Ship finally pausing her nonsense. "It's about time you all knew anyway."
His gaze swept across them — McQueen, Special Week, Tachyon, Scarlet, Vodka, Oguri still chewing quietly, Rice staring with wide worried eyes. Then to Teio, Gold Ship, Café, Mayano. To Mischa and Adalbert beside him.
"…About me," Akuma said, his voice heavy. "…And my story."