Takao let out a soft, warm chuckle, the sound carrying an ease that contrasted gently with the formality of the room. "Must you be so formal, my dear?" she said, tilting her head slightly, one ear twitching as she patted the space beside her on the sofa. "Come, sit. I do so enjoy a bit of company."
Rudolf hesitated for the briefest moment, caught off guard by the familiarity, before her expression softened into a small smile. She inclined her head in acknowledgment and stepped forward, taking the offered seat with quiet grace. Almost immediately, one of the suited men approached, placing a polished silver tray upon the coffee table between them with practiced precision.
Resting atop it was an ornate Japanese tea set, white porcelain hand-painted with black branches and soft pink cherry blossoms, delicate yet unmistakably refined. Embossed in gold upon its surface was a kamon Rudolf recognized at once, though the name tied to it was not one she would ever speak lightly. Beside it, arranged with equal care, were plates of sweets, yōkan, dango, and intricately shaped namagashi, each one crafted in varying colors and forms, almost too beautiful to disturb.
For a fleeting moment, Rudolf felt the urge to let her composure slip, to react as any young girl might at the sight, but she held firm, her posture unchanged.
"Quite the spread, Takao-sama," she said. "Am I to assume these are from Ryokushou?"
Takao's chuckle returned, softer this time, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "I see you still have an eye for such things, Rudolf-chan," she replied, giving a small nod. "Indeed they are. The owner and I go back quite some time, from when his shop was little more than a humble stall tucked away from the world." She exhaled quietly. "It seems he will be retiring soon. Age, as always, catches up with us in the end. A rather unfortunate truth."
"I had heard," Rudolf said, nodding gently. "Though I am certain his legacy will be carried on well."
"Quite so," Takao agreed, as one of the attendants poured the tea, the liquid settling into the cups in a rich emerald hue, steam rising in soft tendrils that carried the faint fragrance of jasmine through the room. She gestured lightly. "Please, do not hesitate. Help yourself."
Rudolf inclined her head and reached for a fork, carefully cutting a small portion of yōkan before bringing it to her lips. The sweetness spread across her tongue at once, rich and refined, enough to almost break the discipline she maintained, though she composed herself swiftly. "It is exquisite, Takao-sama," she said, setting the fork down with care.
"I am pleased to hear that," Takao replied, her attention drifting toward the track beyond the glass, her gaze softening as it settled there. "To think that my Melody now stands on the threshold of her first G1." She let out a quiet laugh, touched with memory. "It feels as though only yesterday she was a little girl, cheering for others from afar."
There was a pause, her expression turning more reflective.
"How swiftly time moves."
Rudolf followed her gaze for a moment before looking back, a gentleness in her expression. "I spoke with her earlier," she said. "She is nervous, though I have every confidence that Hana-san has prepared her as best as anyone could." Her posture straightened slightly. "I trust my trainer. It was under her guidance that I was shaped into who I became on the track."
"Oh, I do not doubt that for a moment," Takao said, a small smile returning. "Hana Tojou has grown into quite the trainer. I remember her in her earlier days, still finding her footing." Her ears twitched faintly. "When Melody told me she had joined Team Rigel, I knew she would be well cared for." She turned her attention back to Rudolf. "Tell me, how has Hana-san been? Is she still as strict as ever?"
Rudolf allowed herself a quiet chuckle. "In some ways, yes," she admitted. "She runs a disciplined team, but there is a great deal of care behind it. She looks after all of us, and especially Melody. There is a familiarity in the way she treats her."
She paused briefly before continuing. "She confided in me not long ago, about her connection to Melody's mother. I must admit, I was surprised. I was aware Melody came from a notable lineage, though I had not realized she was the daughter of Kadokawa Hornet of the Godly Fifteen."
Takao inclined her head slightly. "I cannot fault you for that, Rudolf-chan," she said. "When my daughter and I returned from the States, we chose to distance ourselves from the racing world." Her gaze dimmed just a fraction. "There had been, too much hardship, too many memories better left behind. Decisions were made, some of which I now regret, particularly in how they shaped Hornet's early years."
She turned back to Rudolf, her expression calm, though something deeper lingered beneath it. "My daughter made a conscious choice not to rely on her title, nor her connection to the Godly Fifteen. In Japan, she was simply Kadokawa Hornet, and she wished for it to remain that way." A faint pause followed. "Of course, the past has a way of resurfacing, no matter how carefully one tries to leave it behind."
Rudolf gave a small, thoughtful nod. "She did maintain a relatively low profile," she said, her tone measured, "even after finding success as an idol."
There was a brief hesitation before she continued as she chose her words with care. "If I may be so bold, Takao-sama," she added, drawing Takao's attention, "Melody has spoken at length about her mother, but I cannot help but wonder who her father is."
The change was immediate.
Rudolf felt it before she could fully register it, a subtle but undeniable shift, as though the air itself had grown heavier. The warmth that had filled the room moments before seemed to recede, replaced by something quieter, colder. It showed in the stillness of the suited men stationed around them, in the faint twitch of Takao's ear, in the way the silence stretched just a fraction too long.
Rudolf held her composure, though even she could feel the weight of it pressing in.
At last, Takao spoke.
"Her father… was a trainer from the States," she said. "There was an incident, and he was sent away. Melody is aware of this, and she understands that it is not a subject we revisit."
She paused briefly, her gaze steady.
"It has been many years, and it is not something I, nor any of us, wish to dwell upon." A faint tilt of her head followed. "I trust you understand, Rudolf-chan."
Rudolf met her gaze, the question settling where it was, unanswered in all the ways that mattered, yet she did not press further. "I understand, Takao-sama," she replied, bowing her head slightly. "My apologies, I meant no offense."
Takao's expression shifted once more, the tension easing as a soft chuckle escaped her, the warmth returning as though the moment had never existed. "Please, once again, you mustn't be so formal," she said, adjusting her posture with quiet grace. "You were simply curious, and that is only natural."
Her gaze softened, drifting for a moment.
"My Melody has been raised with love, with care," she continued. "As with any child, there are questions, there is a sense of absence that lingers, but she has come to understand it in her own way." A gentle sigh followed, touched with something deeper. "Even so, I would give anything to have my Hornet here beside me now, to watch her daughter, my granddaughter, step onto that track and make us all proud."
Takao let out a soft chuckle, the warmth returning to her expression. "I will admit, I am rather glad to hear that she's nervous," she said, her tone carrying a quiet certainty. "I would be far more concerned if she weren't. An uma who steps onto the track without even the slightest sense of apprehension is either deluding herself or indulging in far too much pride, and both are dangerous faults in this sport."
Her hand came to rest lightly upon her right leg as her gaze drifted for a moment, her thoughts turning inward. "My own career was rather illustrious, though brief," she continued. "Three G1 victories to my name, before…" The sentence trailed, her eyes lowering briefly toward the table before she let out a small breath. "Still, I remember my debut all too clearly. I was so nervous I thought I might collapse on the spot, and I came dangerously close to emptying my breakfast all over the turf."
She laughed at the memory, and Rudolf found herself smiling in response, a quiet chuckle escaping her. "I understand that feeling, Takao-sama," she said. "The night before my own debut, I did not sleep at all."
Takao exhaled softly, a faint smile lingering as she leaned back slightly. "I would be lying if I said I did not miss it," she admitted. "The feeling of the wind, the sound of boots against the ground, the stretch of the straight ahead, running side by side with Majiro Asama at the Arima Kinen, pushing one another to the very edge." She shook her head gently, the memory bittersweet. "We had our share of battles, she and I. I only ever wished I might have carried it further."
Rudolf nodded, understanding settling quietly between them.
Takao composed herself once more, her attention returning to the present. "Speaking of family," she said, her gaze resting on Rudolf with gentle curiosity, "how are yours, if you do not mind me asking? I trust your parents are keeping well." She tilted her head slightly. "I hear Speed-chan has taken up work with the URA, and that your cousins, Sirius and Kris, have carved out impressive paths of their own."
At the mention of them, Rudolf's expression brightened, a genuine warmth lifting her features. "Mother and father are well, as is Speed-neesama," she replied. "Last I heard, she is currently in Los Angeles, assisting USURA." She gave a small nod. "As for Sirius and Kris, they continue to excel in their own right."
"That is good to hear," Takao said, though her gaze lingered just a moment longer, her tone shifting slightly as something more cautious entered it. "And what of… you know…"
The change in Rudolf was immediate, her expression falling into something more solemn as her ears lowered slightly, her head giving a quiet shake.
Takao exhaled, a soft sigh carrying both understanding and regret. "Forgive me," she said gently. "I should not have asked. It is rather hypocritical of me, given what we discussed earlier."
Rudolf gave a small shake of her head, her expression composed, though there was a quiet weight behind it. "It's alright," she said softly. "It has simply been a long time since we've heard anything."
Takao's expression tightened, a flicker of displeasure passing through her features before settling into something firmer. "If I am to be frank, I place much of the blame on your grandfather," she said, her tone edged with restrained irritation. "Wada has always been a difficult man, proud to a fault, rigid in his thinking, and far too certain of his own way." She paused, catching herself as she exhaled. "Once again, forgive me, I should not speak so freely."
Rudolf remained steady, her gaze calm despite the subject. "I am well aware of how he is perceived," she replied. "And I will admit, his expectations are considerable. The Symboli family has long been associated with excellence, and that legacy is something he has always sought to preserve."
Takao inclined her head slightly, though her eyes remained sharp. "There is a difference between expectation and demand, Rudolf-chan," she said quietly. "And while it may not be my place to say, it is not something I would ever impose upon another, certainly not upon my Melody."
She let out a soft sigh, the tension easing just a fraction. "That said, I am relieved that you and the others have been able to rise to what was asked of you. I can only imagine the weight that must have carried." Her gaze lingered, thoughtful. "Though, given everything, perhaps I do not need to imagine it at all."
A quiet moment lingered between them before Takao lifted a hand lightly, as though brushing the weight of the conversation aside. "Enough of that for now," she said, a gentle smile returning to her lips. "The race is about to begin, and it would be a shame to dwell on such things when we have something far more important to witness." She tilted her head slightly. "Would you care to join me?"
Rudolf's expression softened as she inclined her head in a respectful nod. "I would be honored, Takao-sama."
Takao let out a small, amused sigh, shaking her head. "Truly, you must learn to relax, Rudolf-chan," she said. "I am merely an old woman, not someone deserving of such ceremony."
The remark drew a quiet laugh from Rudolf, and for a moment, the two of them shared that lightness together, the tension of earlier conversations fading as their attention turned toward the race that awaited just beyond the glass.
****
A sharp crackle cut through the air as the speakers came alive, a brief electrical whine echoing across the grandstands before the system settled, the voice that followed carrying clear and strong enough to command the attention of every person present. For those who had been here before, it was unmistakable.
The race was about to begin.
"Welcome to the nationally renowned Twinkle Series," a woman's voice announced, steady and composed. "I'm Misato Akasaka, bringing you the play-by-play, and joining me today on commentary is Hosoe-san. It's a pleasure to have you with us."
High above the track, within the commentator's booth framed by tall glass panels overlooking the course, the two women sat poised behind a desk prepared with meticulous care. The URA emblem stretched across the wall behind them, its presence lending weight to the moment. Akasaka, a young woman with moss-green hair that curled slightly at the edges, sat upright, her emerald eyes focused as she glanced over the sheets of notes spread before her. A headset rested comfortably over her ears. The attached microphone positioned neatly at her lips.
Beside her sat Hosoe, older, composed, dressed in a sapphire blouse with a string of pearls resting against her collar, her own headset in place as she inclined her head slightly. "The pleasure is mine," she replied.
"Today's main event," Akasaka continued, "marks the final leg of the Classic Triple Tiara, the Shūka Shō." She allowed a brief pause. "While no contender this year stands on the verge of claiming the third crown, the turnout has been nothing short of extraordinary. In fact, demand has been so overwhelming that attendance had to be capped, and for that, we do extend our apologies."
She shifted slightly, her gaze lifting as though addressing both the crowd and those beyond it. "For those unable to be here in person, the race is being broadcast worldwide, so whether you're watching from the stands or from your screens, you can be certain of one thing."
Her tone carried a touch more energy now.
"This is shaping up to be a race to remember. Wouldn't you agree, Hosoe-san?"
Hosoe allowed herself a small smile. "Given the timing, I would say that comes as no surprise," she said. "With the Godly Fifteen Convention in Tokyo having just concluded, the excitement among fans is at an all-time high." Her eyes flicked briefly toward the track. "And with a particular favorite making her G1 debut today, I suspect we are in for something rather special."
"Of course," Akasaka said, the anticipation clear, "we are referring to none other than Hachimitsu Melody, daughter of the Godly Fifteen's two-time undefeated Triple Crown champion and Japanese idol, Kadokawa Hornet."
A brief pause followed, just enough to let the name settle.
"The question on everyone's mind," she continued, "is whether she can rise to meet the legacy left behind by her mother." Her expression softened slightly, though the energy remained. "I suppose we are about to find out."
****
The underpass that led out onto the turf carried the steady echo of Melody's footsteps, each one ringing softly against the concrete as she moved toward the light ahead. Halogen lamps lined the ceiling, casting a muted glow over the narrow path and catching against the black and yellow of her silks as she advanced, her pace measured in a way that spoke of someone holding herself together piece by piece.
There was still a trace of unrest lingering in her thoughts, a quiet churn beneath the surface, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm her the way it had before. Her focus had sharpened after her conversation with Rudolf, the weight pressing against her shoulders eased just enough to let her breathe more freely, though the cold thread of nerves remained, coiled tight and stubborn in her chest.
None of the other runners carried this kind of burden, not in the same way, and for a fleeting moment, something close to envy brushed against her. They could step onto the track as themselves, nothing more, nothing less. She, on the other hand, stepped forward with a name that came with expectation, with history, with a legacy that refused to be ignored. And yet, she knew just as well that many of them would give anything to stand where she stood now, to bear that same name, to inherit what she had been given.
Whatever waited for her out there, beyond the tunnel, beyond the stretch of turf and the roar of the crowd, Melody knew she would meet it head-on.
Just as her mother had.
And in some quiet, unspoken way, just as Nightingale had.
Her crimson eyes lowered, settling on the path ahead as her thoughts drifted toward that shadowed figure, toward the girl who ran in a world she had been taught to avoid, a world she was never meant to know. She understood that it was wrong to admire someone like that, to hold onto the image of a runner who existed outside the lines drawn for them, but the feeling lingered all the same.
She did not know Nightingale's full story, not the details that shaped her, but she understood enough. She knew the stakes, the cost of stepping into that world, the things that could be lost, and the quiet sacrifice that had been made when she gave up her pot without hesitation. And more than anything, she remembered the look in her eyes, the one she had seen as she tore down that final stretch of asphalt beneath the glow of broken lights.
It was the same look her mother had carried. Two runners, standing at the edge with nothing left to lose and everything left to prove. And somewhere deep within herself, Melody knew that was what she was chasing.
As she lifted her gaze, the tension in her chest eased just a little, a smile forming almost instinctively when she spotted two familiar figures waiting just ahead.
"Melody-chan!" Kitasan Black called out, waving brightly, with Satono Diamond standing beside her, composed as ever. Both dressed in their Tracen uniforms.
Melody picked up her pace into a light jog, closing the distance between them. "Kita-senpai, Dia-senpai," she greeted with a mix of relief and excitement.
"Melody-chan, you look wonderful in your silks," Diamond said, her gaze sweeping over the outfit with quiet approval. "It's clear you put a great deal of thought into them."
Melody rubbed the back of her head, a slightly sheepish smile slipping through. "Yeah, I had some help," she admitted. "Grandma and Grandpa, mostly. Especially Grandpa." Her grin widened, a hint of fond amusement in it. "Apparently, he used to run with a bōsōzoku crew back in the day. Said they called themselves Toman, whatever that means. He got really into helping me design it."
Kitasan let out a small laugh, her eyes bright. "Well, it suits you," she said. "You look ready for a fight." She folded her hands behind her back, leaning in just slightly. "Me and Dia-chan will be cheering you on from the stands, so don't hold anything back out there."
"I do hope you have something prepared for your winning live performance," Diamond added, a soft chuckle following. "I've known more than a few umas who managed to win their races, only to falter once they stepped onto the stage. Spec-senpai comes to mind."
Kitasan laughed at that, shaking her head. "Yeah, that one was on Trainer-Okina. Totally slipped his mind."
Melody shook her head lightly, the nervousness from earlier now tempered into something steadier. "Don't worry about that, Dia-senpai," she said, her smile softening as her gaze dipped for a moment. "I've got… something special planned." She paused briefly before adding, "That is, if I win."
Kitasan's grin returned, sharper now, full of encouragement. "Well now you've got me curious," she said. "So, you better make sure you win."
"I look forward to seeing it as well, Melody-chan," Diamond added with quiet confidence.
Kitasan let out a soft breath, the kind that carried both excitement and restraint, before offering Melody a bright, reassuring smile. "Well, we've kept you long enough," she said, giving her a playful wink. "Go on now, and good luck out there, Melody-chan."
Melody nodded, the gesture small but firm, before turning and breaking into a light jog toward the tunnel's mouth, her steps echoing faintly as she disappeared into the light beyond. Diamond watched her go, her expression warm, thoughtful in a way that lingered even after Melody had passed from sight.
"I wonder if this is what it feels like," Diamond murmured, "to watch your juniors step forward and begin carving out names of their own." A faint smile touched her lips as she continued, "Just as McQueen-san and Teio-san once did for us." Her gaze shifted toward Kitasan, searching, understanding.
Kitasan folded her arms, her posture relaxed but her eyes still fixed on the path Melody had taken, as though she could still see her there. "Guess that makes us the seniors now," she said, a note of realization settling in as naturally as breath. "And it won't be long before Melody's standing where we are, watching someone else take that same step."
Her ears flicked once, her expression softening, though something deeper lingered beneath it. "Still, I hope she goes further than we ever did." She paused, the thought settling fully before she finished, quieter but no less certain, "Further than all of us."
At the threshold where shadow gave way to the open track, Melody slowed, the roar of the crowd pressing faintly through the barrier ahead as she slipped a hand beneath her shirt and lowered herself to one knee. The rosary rested in her palm, black and yellow beads catching the muted light as the small crucifix lay against her fingers, cool and familiar.
She closed her eyes, her lips moving in a quiet prayer meant for no one else, her thoughts steadying, grounding her in that brief, private moment before everything changed. When she finished, she traced the sign of the cross against herself, a small, practiced motion, before rising to her feet and tucking the rosary back beneath her shirt.
The noise of the world rushed in the moment she stepped forward, her eyes opening to the light as she crossed the threshold and emerged onto the track.
"Here we go. Watch over me, Mom."
****
"It would seem we have quite the field assembled today, Hosoe-san," Akasaka said, her attention fixed on the live feed streaming across her monitor, where the cameras along the turf captured each runner in turn. "A compelling mix as well, seasoned contenders, rising names from across multiple academies, and a number of first-time G1 entrants all stepping onto the same stage."
"Quite right, Akasaka-san," Hosoe replied, her gaze settling on the screen as a runner clad in white stepped forward before the camera, her posture composed, confidence evident in the way she carried herself. "Seventh Heaven has quickly become a fan favorite, particularly after her strong performances in the Nikkei Sho and the Spring Stakes, and there is a growing sense that she may have more to offer today."
The camera shifted smoothly, capturing another runner adorned in an emerald ensemble that shimmered under the lights, its kaleidoscopic sheen giving her an almost ethereal presence. "And then we have Northern Lights," Hosoe continued, "fresh off her victory at the Kyoto Shimbun Hai, adding yet another promising name to what is already a remarkably competitive field. It is, without question, an impressive gathering of talent."
"And of course," Akasaka added as the next figure stepped into frame, "Hachimitsu Melody."
On screen, Melody raised a hand in acknowledgment, her gesture simple yet enough to draw a swelling response from the stands beyond the glass, the roar of the crowd bleeding faintly even into the booth.
"It has been quite some time since we've seen a reception of this magnitude," Akasaka went on, a note of intrigue threading through her words. "The anticipation surrounding her debut at this level is undeniable."
"Indeed," Hosoe said, her tone measured as she continued, "with notable victories in races such as the Hanshin Daishoten, the Yomiuri Milers Cup, and the Keio Hai Spring Cup, alongside a series of strong performances across G3 and ungraded events, Melody has certainly demonstrated both consistency and potential."
She paused briefly, her eyes remaining on the screen. "However, the question remains, as it always does at this level, whether that form will hold against a field of this caliber, where every runner has proven themselves capable of rising to the occasion."
****
Within the observation room of the C.H.A.S.E. training facility, the glow of the projector cast shifting light across the walls as the broadcast from Kyoto filled the space. Lightning sat forward on the sofa, her posture drawn tight with focus, elbows braced against her thighs as her hands clasped together beneath her chin, her gaze locked on the screen where the runners warmed up beneath the rising roar of the crowd.
Beside her, Red lounged into the cushions with far less restraint, one leg folded over the other, though the tilt of his head and the way his eyes tracked the footage betrayed an attention no less sharp. A few steps away, Hidehito stood with his arms crossed, his presence composed and unmoving, while around them the recruits lined the room, their eyes fixed ahead, the quiet tension of anticipation settling over them all.
"So," Red broke the silence, cutting through the hum of the projector as he glanced sideways at Lightning, "whaddaya think, huh? Ya think she's got what it takes?"
Lightning let out a measured breath, her eyes never leaving the screen. "It's too soon to call it, Red," she replied, her tone steady, grounded in assessment rather than hope. "I've looked into the others, and they're not just names on a roster, they've got the technique, the discipline, the numbers to back it up. Their times are right up there with Melody's, close enough that there's no clear edge." Her fingers tightened slightly against one another. "As it stands, this is anyone's race."
"That, I would argue, is only part of it, Captain Lightning," Hidehito said, drawing their attention, his gaze still fixed on the screen. "I do not subscribe to notions of luck or chance. Those are comforts for those unwilling to accept reality. What matters here is strength, skill, and the resolve to see one's ability through to its end." He paused briefly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And with that in mind, Melody would require something quite extraordinary to secure the victory she seeks."
Red let out a scoff, shaking his head. "Yeah, real uplifting stuff, pal. I'm sure she'd love ta hear that."
"Hidehito isn't wrong," Lightning cut in before the edge in Red's tone could linger. "As much as I want her to take this, as much as I'm rooting for her, this race is going to push her harder than anything she's faced so far." Her gaze narrowed slightly, something unsettled threading through her focus. "And right now, I can't shake the feeling that something's going to give."
Hidehito's expression softened, just enough to ease the severity of his earlier words. "Even so, when the moment comes, every uma returns to the same place, her training," he said, turning his attention toward Lightning. "You've done so yourself, time and again, and given who has trained Melody-san, I have confidence that she will not falter when it matters."
Lightning gave a small nod, her eyes returning fully to the image of Melody on the screen. "Good luck, Melody."
"Well, that's all nice and heartfelt," Red said, shifting in his seat as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded hundred-dollar bill, glancing back toward the recruits with a crooked grin, "but lemme make this a little more interestin'." He flicked the note between his fingers. "I got a hundred on Melody. Who's in?"
A girl with a sharp white streak cutting through her black hair leaned forward with a smirk, interest lighting her eyes. "Oh, you're on."
The girl beside her tugged her cap lower, disbelief written plainly across her face. "Seriously? You're starting bets in here of all places?"
Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose, a quiet exhale slipping out as Hidehito simply shook his head, the tension of the moment briefly broken by the familiar chaos of it all.
****
Back in the stands, Logan stood with his arms folded, his posture set but far from relaxed as his attention remained fixed on the track below, where the runners moved through their warm-ups with practiced precision, stretching, pacing, easing themselves into rhythm before the gates. His gaze drifted upward for a moment, toward the sky where clouds had begun to gather, their slow encroachment casting a muted shade across the turf, dimming the brightness of the afternoon.
There was a chill in the air now, subtle but unmistakable, the kind that lingered at the back of the throat, and while he was certain it wouldn't break into rain, it did little to ease the tight knot coiled in his stomach. His eyes found Melody again, drawn to her without effort as she moved through her stretches, and the longer he watched, the harder it became to separate what he was seeing from what he remembered.
For a fleeting moment, it wasn't Melody on that field.
It was Hornet.
The same focus, the same quiet intensity in the way she carried herself before a race, the same routine he had watched all those years ago before the Kentucky Derby. And just as he had then, he stood on the sidelines with that same tension gripping him, the same cold edge pressing along his spine, the same restless unease that made his breath shallow and his thoughts scatter. He could almost feel it again, the damp weight of sweat along his neck, the faint clatter of his teeth as he fought to steady himself, the sharp instinct to turn away before the race even began.
Time had passed, years had worn down sharper edges, but in that moment, it all came rushing back with a clarity he hadn't expected, settling into him as though it had never truly left. Logan let out a breath, a quiet, almost amused sound as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he shook his head at himself.
Dahlia caught it immediately, her brow lifting as a smirk followed. "What?"
"Nothing," Logan said, slipping his hands into his pockets as his gaze returned to the track. "Just… feels familiar, that's all." He exhaled again, slower this time, as if settling into the feeling rather than pushing it away. "Been a while since I've felt this kind of edge. Back when I was still green, I'd be sweating through my shirt before the start, and by the time they hit the final stretch, I was about two seconds from losing it completely." A faint chuckle slipped through. "Guess I forgot what that felt like."
"That sounds absolutely miserable," Dahlia replied, though the amusement in her expression didn't fade. "So, what, you were like that when I ran my final stretch too?"
Logan shifted his gaze toward her, his expression flattening into something half-lidded, unimpressed. "You wish, kid," he said, earning a small pout from her before his smirk returned, just enough to soften it. "But I'll admit, you did get the blood pumping."
"Still…" Light spoke up as she drew both Logan and Dahlia's attention, her eyes returning to the field where the runners continued their preparations. "Do you think Melody actually stands a chance?" she asked, her gaze lingering, uncertain. "I don't really follow racing all that closely, but even I can tell. The others look strong."
"That's because they are," Logan replied, his focus sharpening behind his shades as he tracked two figures across the turf, his attention narrowing with quiet precision. "Seventh Heaven. Northern Lights. Those two have been on everyone's radar for a while now, names that keep coming up whenever people start talking about who's next." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly as he considered what he'd seen. "I've gone through their past races. They're both comfortable on this kind of course, medium distance, turf, they know how to handle it."
Dahlia and Light leaned in just enough, listening without interrupting.
"But it's not the track that concerns me," Logan continued as he shifted his weight slightly. "It's how they run it. Northern plays the long game, holds back, then surges late when everyone else starts to fade. Seventh's even more patient, an end closer through and through, waits until the very last stretch to make her move." His gaze flicked back toward Melody. "And Melody, she runs pace."
A brief silence settled as the implication sank in.
"If she doesn't manage that properly," Logan went on, rubbing his chin as he thought it through, "she risks burning through too much too early, and in a race like this, that's all it takes to lose it before the final stretch even begins." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Her best shot might be the corners. From what I've seen, she handles them clean, efficient. That's where she can shave time, gain ground, maybe create just enough of a gap to matter."
Dahlia's lips curved into a small smile, something thoughtful in it as Logan glanced at her, catching the look.
"What?"
"It's just…" she began, exhaling lightly as she folded her arms, her gaze drifting back toward the track. "Hearing you talk like this. About turf, pacing, corners. Not street routes, not traffic, not fights breaking out mid-run." She shook her head slightly, the smile lingering. "Feels normal. Like you're just another trainer standing here, breaking down a race instead of running one in the shadows." She paused briefly before adding, quieter, "I guess, I feel it too."
Light nodded in agreement, her expression softening as she clasped her hands together. "Yeah, I get what you mean," she said. "I've spent so long watching umas risk everything out there, where one mistake can cost you more than just the race." Her eyes flickered with something distant, before settling again. "Being here, seeing all of this, it's different. Running just to run, not to survive. It's refreshing."
Logan fell quiet for a moment, the noise of the crowd swelling around them as he let their words settle, before a low chuckle escaped him, softer than before, carrying something almost unfamiliar.
"Yeah," he said.
"Even with a field this stacked, the gap between the three favorites is razor thin," a voice remarked from beside them, drawing the attention of Light, Dahlia, and Logan toward the same heavyset young man from before, his eyes fixed intently on the track. "Seventh Heaven, Northern Lights, and Hachimitsu Melody, all of them have taken wins this year, all of them have proven themselves. There's nothing between them that clearly tips the scale." He gave a small shake of his head. "Honestly, it's too close to call."
"What brought that on?" the slimmer young man beside him asked, glancing over with mild curiosity.
"They come from completely different academies, different systems, different philosophies," the heavier one continued, his tone thoughtful, analytical in a way that suggested he'd been turning this over for a while. "Strip away the constants, the conditions, the noise, and what you're left with is style. How they run, how they adapt, how they respond under pressure. That's what decides it." He paused briefly. "Aggression, efficiency, timing, whichever one executes better on the day takes it."
The slimmer man nodded slightly before asking, "Do you think Melody can actually live up to her mother's legacy?"
A faint shrug followed. "Hard to say," the other admitted. "But if you're asking me, her odds aren't exactly in her favor."
Before he could elaborate further, Light leaned forward, unable to hold herself back. "I know she can!" she cut in. "Her mom maybe Kadokawa Hornet, but her dad's—!"
She didn't get another word out. Dahlia and Logan moved at the same time, each grabbing one side as they clamped their hands over her mouth, cutting her off mid-sentence as her words dissolved into muffled protests.
"A nobody!" Dahlia said quickly, forcing out a nervous laugh as she kept her grip in place. "Ignore her, she's just blabbing."
"Yeah," Logan added with an easy grin that didn't quite hide the tension beneath it, "first time at the races. Gets a little carried away."
The two young men exchanged a glance before looking back at them, confusion written plainly across their faces, though neither pressed the matter further.
****
The sharp call of trumpets rose first, clear and commanding, before the thunder of drums and layered percussion followed, swelling into the unmistakable anthem of the URA as it rolled across the grandstands like a proclamation. The crowd answered in kind, a surge of cheers rising in waves, the sound pressing in from every direction as the signal carried through the stadium and marked the beginning of the race.
Melody rolled her shoulders through one final stretch, drawing in a steady breath before lifting her gaze toward the stands, and for a moment, the sheer scale of it all settled over her. The grandstands were filled edge to edge, an unbroken sea of faces and color, banners swaying, voices rising, energy pulsing through the air in a way she had never quite experienced before. She had raced before crowds, but nothing like this, nothing that carried this weight, this expectation, this sense that every step she took from here would be seen, remembered, judged.
The stage she had been chasing her entire life, a G1.
The realization settled into her, not as something overwhelming, but as something grounding, something that steadied her even as it pressed against her chest. This was where the best stood, where names were made, where legacies began or ended, and now she was here, in the same place countless champions had stood before her, looking out at a crowd that would soon be shouting her name.
A small smile found its way onto her lips. Her gaze drifted across the stands, taking in the motion, the faces, the flashes of color, before it caught on something oddly out of place, an older man and a younger girl struggling to keep another one quiet, hands clamped over her mouth as she writhed in protest. Melody's smile softened as recognition settled in, the man unmistakable even at a distance.
Logan, the man from the church. So, he truly had meant what he said, that he had been watching her journey all this time, following every step of her career more closely than she had ever realized.
She almost raised a hand in greeting, the instinct natural, but her attention shifted just as quickly, drawn to the girl beside him, long black hair catching the light as she struggled. There was something familiar there, something that tugged at her memory, though she couldn't quite place it before a sudden bump knocked into her back.
Melody stumbled forward, catching herself with a quick step before turning, her balance regained in an instant.
"Oops, sorry about that," the other runner said, her tone light but lacking any real apology. "Didn't see you there."
The girl carried herself with an easy confidence that bordered on arrogance, long oaken hair falling in styled curls that matched her tail, her tanned complexion set against sharp brown eyes that looked Melody over with clear judgment. Her emerald dress shimmered under the light, its surface shifting in color as it caught the sun, yellow frills lining the sleeves and hem, paired with matching boots and a ribbon pinned near her ear, an amber gem glinting faintly.
Melody did not need a second glance, nor even a moment to question it, because the identity of the runner standing before her was already unmistakable in both presence and bearing.
Northern Lights.
"But I wouldn't worry too much," Northern continued, a smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned just slightly closer. "After I'm done with you out there…" Her eyes narrowed faintly with amusement. "No one's going to remember you anyway." She straightened, brushing the back of her hand lightly against her mouth as a soft, mocking laugh followed. "Bit of a shame, really, considering all that hype."
She turned and walked off without another glance, her laughter trailing behind her as though she had already decided the outcome. Melody watched her go, her expression settling into something flat, unimpressed, her gaze half-lidded as the words rolled off her without finding purchase.
"Don't let her get under your skin."
The voice came from behind, calm, steady, drawing Melody's attention as she turned.
"Lights talks more than she runs," the runner added, a faint edge of amusement slipping through. "Thinks she's the next King Halo or something. All style, not nearly as much substance."
The girl stood poised, dressed in white with soft cream accents, ribbons lining her outfit in clean, elegant detail, her gloves and thigh-high boots pristine, her platinum blonde hair held neatly back by a band that kept it from falling into her face. Her emerald eyes met Melody's with a quiet confidence that didn't need to be forced, her presence steady, grounded.
She extended a hand. "Seventh Heaven."
Melody glanced at it for a moment before reaching out, her grip firm as she met it. "Hachimitsu Melody."
"Pleasure," Seventh said, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. "Just so we're clear though, I'm not planning on losing today." There was no arrogance in it, only certainty. "So, let's make it a good race."
Melody's expression shifted, the earlier tension settling into something sharper, brighter, as a grin pulled at her lips.
"Yeah," she said. "Same here."
****
"The competitors are now moving into their starting brackets," Akasaka announced as her eyes tracked the live feed, where each runner stepped into position one by one, the metallic clank of the steel gates snapping shut behind them in sequence, sealing them into place. "All runners are being loaded, and we are moments away from the start."
Her emerald gaze followed the final figure approaching, her focus narrowing slightly as Melody came into frame. "And here we have Hachimitsu Melody, the last to enter," she continued, her tone lifting with a note of anticipation. "She approaches the gate with remarkable composure, no hesitation in her stride, no sign of doubt in her expression." A brief pause settled as the camera lingered on Melody. "There is a quiet confidence about her, one that carries even at this level, under this kind of pressure."
The gate loomed ahead as Melody stepped forward, and Akasaka leaned in just slightly, as though unwilling to miss even the smallest detail.
"This is the moment," she said. "The world is watching, every eye fixed on her as she takes her place among the best. The question now remains, will she rise to meet it, or will someone else claim the spotlight in her stead."
****
The sharp clink of steel rang out behind her as the gate snapped shut, sealing her into place, and Melody's focus narrowed instinctively, her gaze locking onto the stretch of turf laid out ahead as though everything else had fallen away. She shifted her eyes once to the left, then to the right, taking in the other runners held in the same poised stillness, bodies drawn tight with coiled energy, every muscle set, every breath measured, each of them waiting for the same moment to break.
Melody exhaled slowly, letting the breath steady her as she lowered herself into position, her posture aligning with practiced precision, her expression sharpening as her crimson eyes fixed forward without wavering. This was it, the point where everything converged, every hour spent on the training course, every repetition drilled into her body until it became instinct, every sacrifice she had made without question, all leading to this single moment where there would be no more preparation, no more waiting, only execution.
Across Japan, the world seemed to hold its breath with her.
Screens flickered in homes and public spaces alike, drawing in crowds who leaned forward without realizing it, tension settling into their shoulders as anticipation tightened its grip. In the grandstands, trainers stood with quiet intensity, from Hana to Okino, their attention unwavering as they watched the field below. High above, within the private box, Rudolf and Takao sat side by side, their composure intact, though the subtle flick of an ear and the stillness of their posture betrayed the weight of the moment.
In Tokyo, within the observation room, Lightning sat forward, along with Red and Hidehito, the recruits gathered around them silent, their focus locked onto the screen. Across the city, within the quiet confines of the church office, Father Hasegawa leaned forward over his desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as the live broadcast flickered across the screen before him. The soft glow of the display cast shifting light across his features, but there was no softness in his gaze, only a hardened focus as he watched the race unfold, his attention fixed with an intensity that betrayed just how much was riding on what came next.
Even back at Tracen, where the cafeteria had fallen into an unusual hush, Gurren and her friends stood before the mounted display, their voices gone, their breaths shallow as they waited.
Back by the stands, Logan, Dahlia, Light, and the two young men stood shoulder to shoulder amid the press of the crowd, yet for all the noise surrounding them, a quiet had settled between the five of them, their attention fixed entirely on the track as they watched without a word, each of them drawn into the same moment, held there by anticipation that left no room for anything else.
For a brief, fragile instant, it felt as though the entire country had stilled.
"As hopes and cheers rise ever higher," Akasaka's voice carried through the speakers, steady and clear, threading through the silence, "the Shūka Shō—"
Melody felt her heart strike hard against her chest, each beat loud enough to drown out everything else, until for a fleeting moment, the noise of the world disappeared entirely, leaving only the rhythm of her breath and the line ahead.
And then, the gates burst open.