Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rain poured over the city like a curtain, washing the neon signs into shimmering streaks of color on the asphalt. Most Umamusume had gone home hours ago, retreating to the warmth of dorms or families waiting with hot food and dry towels.

But not her.

Wild Hunt crouched beneath an overpass, pulling a tattered hoodie tighter around her shoulders. Her tail was soaked and shoes were falling apart. Every now and then, she’d glance toward the sound of traffic - her ears twitching at every engine’s growl, as if it were a gunshot from a starting line.

She didn’t know why she still did that. Habit, probably. Or hope.

The streets didn’t offer much to umamusume who didn’t have a place to belong. Racing was in their blood. For Wild Hunt, it was nothing more than a dream she watched behind fences or flickering TV screens in convenience stores.

Her stomach growled. Wild Hunt sighed, pushing herself up. “Tch…fine. Guess it’s another night at the docks.”

The docks were where she ran. When the city slept, she sprinted between empty shipping lanes, her feet splashing through puddles. No crowd, no announcer - just her, the rain, and the wind. Out here, she could pretend she was someone else.

A figure watched her from a distance - a man in a raincoat, holding an umbrella to shield from the rain. His expression was hard to read, but his eyes followed every stride she took, every burst of speed as she tore down the empty road like she was chasing something only she could see.

He whispered under his breath, “That form…that acceleration.. It’s raw, but-”

The uma stumbled, slipped on wet concrete, and crashed shoulder-first into a stack of crates. She cursed softly but got up anyway, brushing herself off and limping back toward the shadows.

The man exhaled, half in disbelief and half in awe, “She doesn’t quit…even when no one’s watching.”

By the time Wild Hunt made it back under the overpass, she was trembling from exhaustion. She curled up, pulling her hood down low, and shakily opened an old candy bar she managed to find. Hunt pretended not to notice the footsteps approaching.

“Rough night?” a calm voice asked.

Wild Hunt tensed. “Buzz off.”

The man crouched down, careful not to get too close. “Name’s Arai. I’m a trainer at Tracen Academy.”

Her ears twitched then folded back. She didn't look at him, but her heartbeat quickened.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered. “I don’t race.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Arai said. “You were running like you had the world chasing you.”

That made her glanced up. Her green eyes were sharp, defiant - but beneath that, a flicker of fear. “You scouting strays now?” Wild Hunt scoffs.

“Just talent,” Arai replied. “And you’ve got plenty.”

Wild Hunt laughed - harsh, humorless. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” Arai said, standing and offering his hand. “I know potential when I see it. Come to Tracen. You’ll get a meal, a bed, and maybe a second chance.”

Wild Hunt stared at his hand. The fingers were steady, calloused, used to holding stopwatches and clipboards - not reaching into alleys for people like her.

A second chance. The words twisted in her chest like a knife.

“A second chance for what?” she muttered. “You don't get second chances when you never had a first.”

Arai didn’t flinch. “You’ve been running out there every night. You don’t do that unless you want something.”

“Running keeps me alive!” Hunt snapped. “Thats it.”

But even as she said it, the lie burned in her throat. Running wasn’t just survival - it was an escape. It was the only time the noise in her head went quiet. The only time she wasn't the stray under the bridge, but someone faster. Freer. Someone who mattered.

Her tail flicked nervously. The rain slowed, the air damp and cold. She could smell the faint trace of his cologne. It smells clean and professional. Nothing like the grime and diesel scent that clung to her clothes.

“Tracen Academy…” she murmured with eyes cast down, tasting the words like something forbidden. “That’s where real racers go.”

“That’s where you should go as well,” Arai said simply.

Wild Hunt clenched her fists and grit her teeth. “You don’t get it! I’m nothing like them! I don’t have a fancy bloodline or fans or trainers waiting to polish me up!!” Her shoulders dropped, drained.

“I don’t even have a name anyone remembers…” Wild Hunt mutters.

Arai hears it all the same. His fist clenches and steps forward. “Then make them remember.”

Hunt Froze. No one had ever said that to her before - not without a sneer, not without pity.

The wind picked up again, rustling her damp, black hair. Hunt’s chest ached - not from hunger this time, but something deeper. Something like… longing.
For warmth. For a place to belong. For a chance to run where it mattered.

Still, the fear clung to her. What if it was a trick? What if she failed? What if she went there and proved that everyone who’d thrown her away was right? Wild Hunt hugs her knees close.

“...What if I don't fit in?” she whispered, the words trembling.

Arai smiled softly, “Then we’ll make room.”

She looked up, searching his face for mockery, but found none. Only conviction.

Her throat tightened. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The city stirred awake around them. The traffic rumbling in the distance, pigeons taking flight, and the gray dawn breaking through the clouds.

Finally, Wild Hunt exhaled, a shudder running through her shoulders.

“...Fine,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But if this turns out to be a joke, I’m gone.”

Arai gave a nod and settled on a small smile, “Fair enough.”

Wild Hunt hesitated then slowly, hesitantly, reached out and took his hand.

His grip was firm and steady. And also warm.

For the first time in years, she didn't feel like she was standing still.

Chapter Text

The city slipped away behind them — its gray buildings fading into a blur of rain-slicked streets and sleepy lights.

Wild Hunt sat in the passenger seat, hood pulled low, watching the world roll by through the fogged-up window. She can see her reflection in the glass: tired eyes, messy hair, and a streak of dried mud across her cheek she hadn't bothered to wipe away.

Arai drove in silence for a while. The hum of the car was steady, almost soothing. Too soothing. It made her uncomfortable.

“So,” Wild Hunt muttered, breaking the quiet, “what's the catch?”

Arai glanced over her briefly. “Catch?”

“Yeah. You feed me, give me a warm bed, then what? I run races until I drop? Do you get a bonus for picking up strays like me?”

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he adjusted his grip on the wheel. “People have used you before, didn't they?”

Wild Hunt clicked her tongue and looked away. “Guess that's obvious.”

“I'm not one of them,” Arai said simply. “I don't care where you come from. I care where your legs take you.”

She let's out a humorless laugh. “You really talk like one of those Academy posters.”

He smirked confidently. “Maybe, but its the truth.”

The rain stopped somewhere past the city limits. In its place came open fields — rolling green stretching beneath the brightening sky. For the first time, Wild Hunt smelled clear air.

Hunt pressed her forehead to the window glass. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen this much open space. It made her chest ache in a strange way.

Arai took a side glance at Hunt staring out the window. “You ever run on grass before?” He asked suddenly.

She blinked. “Grass?”

He gave an affirmative nod. “Yeah. Real turf. No concrete.”

She frowned, thinking. “No. The streets don't have much of that.”

He nodded knowingly. “Then the first time you do, it's going to feel like flying!” Arai gave Wild Hunt a wide smirk.

Something in his tone — excited, certain — stuck with her. Flying. The word sounded impossible. But part of her wanted to believe it.

Hours passed. Wild Hunt dozed off somewhere between the hills, lulled by the rhythm of the engine. When she woke up, the car stopped in front of a set of iron gates.

They were tall and ornate — engraved with a familiar crest: Tracen Academy.

Even from the car, she could hear the faint echo of footsteps on the training track beyond. The distant laughter of Umamusume racing in the wind.

Hunt sat there, silent. Her pulse quickened — part fear and part anticipation.

Arai turned to her. “You ready?”

Hunt gripped the edge of her seat, her tail twitching nervously. “No…” she admitted.

His eyes softened and patted the girl on the head. “It's going to be ok. You'll do fine. I believe in you.”

Wild Hunt opened the door and stepped out. The scent of turf and dirt hit her — rich, real, and alive. The kind of place that could break your spirit or make you into something new.

As she looked past the gates, toward the academy grounds shimmering in the morning light, Hunt whispered under her breath:

“....Flying, huh? Guess we'll see where my legs take me.”

And with that, Wild Hunt takes her first step toward the life she never dared to imagine.

Chapter Text

Tracen Academy was louder than she imagined.

The place buzzed with energy — laughter, rhythmic sounds of running shoes on turf tracks, the faint hum of chatter from the hallways and classrooms. Everywhere Wild Hunt looked, Umamusume moved with purpose: groups stretching in the fields, others jogging laps in perfect formation. Their tails swishing in time with their steps.

Wild Hunt quietly followed behind Arai along the main path, her tattered hoodie still clinging damply to her shoulders. The smell of grass was overwhelming. It was clean, almost too clean.

Eyes followed her.

Some of the girls whispered quietly as she passed. Their gazes were curious, but cautious. Wild Hunt pretended not to notice but her ears and tail twitched involuntarily. She wasn't used to being looked at unless it was by cops or shop owners telling her to scram. 

“Hey,” Arai said quietly, “you'll get used to it. Don't mind them.”

Hunt shot him a skeptical look. “I doubt it.”

Arai smiled faintly, but didn't argue.

They stopped in front of the dorms — tall, white buildings with neat gardens. The contrast between this place and the overpass she lived under last night made her stomach twist.

“Your room's been prepared,” Arai informs her. “You'll also have a roommate, but she's out training right now. You can meet her later.”

“A roommate…” Wild Hunt muttered. “...great.”

Arai handed her a small key with a tag labeled Dorm C - Room 23. “Unpack, rest and change. We'll go over your placement test this afternoon. A tracksuit is prepared for you in the dorm room.”

“Huh? A placement test?” questioned Wild Hunt.

He grinned. “Of course. You didn't think we'd throw you straight into a race, did you?”

Her face turned pink from slight embarrassment. She looked away and frowned, arms crossed. “Guess not.”

Arai chuckled, amused. “Don't forget to clean up alright? You still got dry mud on your face.”

Wild Hunt waved dismissively at Arai. “Yeah yeah, I got it.” She turned towards her dorm room and unlocked the door with her newly acquired keys.

“Wild Hunt?” 

Arai's voice caused her to look up and turn to him.

“You belong here. Even if it doesn't feel like it yet.” He gave her a reassuring smile and walked away.

Hunt didn't answer, just watched him go. The words lingered longer than she wanted to admit.

The dorm room smelled faintly of flowers and clean linen. Wild Hunt stood in the doorway for a while, afraid to touch anything. There were two beds: one perfectly made and the other empty.

A desk, a mirror, a small shelf. It looked like a place for someone who had a life — not a girl who spent years running from one shelter to another.

She dropped her small bag on the bed, sat down, and stared at the floor.

“‘You belong here’ he said.” Hunt muttered then scoffed. “Yeah right…”

Her tail twitched uneasily. Every sound outside — the laughter, the rumbling footsteps, the cheers from the trainers. It felt like a reminder that she wasn't one of them.

Still… she looked to her side and found a tracksuit Hunt had seen the students wear on the field. Clean and neatly folded. Like it was calling out to her. A part of her chest burned with something she couldn't name. Not quite hope. Not yet. But something close. 

Later that afternoon. Arai met Wild Hunt on the practice field.

“Seems like she cleaned up,” thought Arai as he took notice of her appearance. The dry mud staining her face was gone. Her long black hair is still messy but it gave her a wild untamed look. And no longer did Wild Hunt wear dirty tattered clothes. Now she is donning a clean fresh pair of the iconic red colors of the Tracen Academy tracksuit….mostly. 

“You kept the tattered hoodie I see,” he mused in thought. Instead of wearing the full tracksuit, Wild Hunt decided to still wear the old tattered green hoodie she always had, but still wore the Tracen tracksuit pants and running shoes. 

Arai thinks back to yesterday when he met the Wild Hunt from under the overpass to the Wild Hunt he's seeing now. There's not much change yet but it's a start.

“Alright,” he said, clipboard in hand. “This is just a speed assessment. Run when you're ready. Don't worry about the others.”

Hunt glanced towards the track — several other Umamusume were already practicing, graceful and focused. Their running was smooth and polished. They made it effortless.

Wild Hunt swallowed hard. “Right…”

She stepped onto the track. Her new shoes felt too light, the ground too soft compared to the cracked pavement she was used to. 

A few girls nearby glanced her way — some looking with curiosity, others with quiet skepticism.

Hunt could feel their judgment pressing down on her. The old instinct kicked in: that urge to run away. 

But this time, Arai's words echoed in her mind.

“It's going to be ok.”

“Don’t mind them.”

“You belong here.”

Wild Hunt crouched at the start line, steadying her breath.

The whistle blew.

Wild Hunt launched forward.

The first few steps felt strange - the grass giving under her feet, the wind rushing past her face. But then instinct took over. Her stride lengthened. Her pulse synced with the rhythm of the turf.

She was running.

Not for food, not for escape - but because something deep inside needed to.

For a moment, everything disappeared: the whispers, the doubt, the ache in her chest. It was just her and the wind.

When she crossed the finish line, panting hard, Arai was grinning.

“That’s it Hunt! You’ve got a lot of power,” he said, scribbling on his clipboard. “Rough form, but that’s nothing we can’t fix.”

Wild Hunt bent over, catching her breath. Her heart raced - not just from exertion, but from something new. Something dangerously close to pride.

Then she heard a voice from the sidelines - crushing that feeling. A girl with sleek pink hair and perfect posture, arms crossed.

“She runs like a wild animal,” the girl said flatly.

Wild Hunt’s head snapped up.

Arai frowned slightly, “That’s enough, Sakura Glory. Hunt’s just new to this.”

Sakura - whoever she was - scoffed dismissively, but gave a small, polite bow. “Of course, sir. It was just an observation.” Then she walked off without another glance.

Wild Hunt’s fists tightened. “She’s right,” she muttered. “I am wild.”

Arai placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you. You can show them your wild instinct isn’t a flaw, but you have a long way to go.”

That night, exhaustion clung to her like a fog as she followed the dorm leader through the quiet halls. The dorm leader is a senior student of the academy, a handsome young woman named Fuji Kiseki. The sound of muffled laughter and chatter from the other rooms reminded her how out of place she felt.

Fuji stopped at the door and turned to Wild Hunt.

“It’s natural to get lost on your first night here. Just try to remember the way back, okay?” she flashed a charming smile at Hunt.

A faint blush formed on Hunt’s face before hesitantly nodding. “Uh, yeah. Got it.” Her handsome senior walked off and Wild Hunt turned the handle.

Inside, the room was the same as she left it this afternoon but warm soft lights filled the room. A girl with honey-brown hair and bright blue eyes sat cross-legged on her bed, nailing horseshoes on her racing shoes. She looked up as the door opened.

“Oh? You must be my new roommate!” she said cheerfully, hopping off her bed. “I’m Meadow Dancer - you can call me Meadow.”

Wild hunt froze, unsure how to respond. “Wild Hunt,” she muttered finally, sitting down on her bed.

Meadow smiled warmly. “That’s a cool name! You’re the new recruit Arai-trainer brought in, right? I heard you made an impression during the placement test.”

Wild Hunt’s ears flicked in mild embarrassment. “You…could say that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that for long. You'll fit in fine here.” Meadow gestured around the room. “I see you have already settled your things on that bed. And I saw Fuji-san help you find our dorm. Don’t worry, if you ever get lost in the halls I’ll help you find your way. Tracen’s huge.”

Wild Hunt blinked, caught off guard by her friendliness.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Meadow Dancer interrupted, her tone gentle, but firm. “It’s what roommates do.”

For the first time since she’d arrive, Wild Hunt felt her guard loosen - just a little. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to feel a little safe here.

“...Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Anytime.” Meadow grinned, stretching. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you where they serve breakfast. You’ll need it if you’re running again.”

Hunt couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.

“Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

As the lights dimmed and the academy settled into silence, Wild Hunt lay awake, listening to the soft breathing from the other bed. For the first time, she didn’t fall asleep alone.

And somewhere deep inside, the stray began to feel something new - the first flicker of belonging.

Chapter Text

Morning came early at Tracen Academy. 

The sun was starting to rise when the school bell rang softly in the distance. Wild Hunt groaned, burying her face in the pillow. The bed was too soft, the air too quiet. She almost missed the sound of the city — the hum of traffic and the occasional siren. But here, the bed was too good to leave.

Hunt heard the door gently open.

“Hm? Oh good morning Wild Hunt.”

Hunt blinked sleepily and sat up. By the door was her roommate Meadow Dancer. She wore bright orange pajamas and her hair was slightly damp. A towel rested around her neck. Hunt also noticed Meadow was carrying a bag.

“I went ahead and took a shower. Sorry I didn't wake you up.” Meadow apologized.

Wild Hunt rubbed her eyes. “You…didn't. The bell did.”

“Oh right. Haha,” Meadow laughed awkwardly. “First mornings are always rough. Come on, you gotta get ready. Breakfast starts at ten. The cafeteria always runs out of the good stuff fast. We have students here who are very big eaters.”

Meanwhile at the cafeteria, an ashen Umamusume was surrounded with plates piled high with food, chowing down at high speeds. Until she sneezed and had a small coughing fit.

“Oi Oguri!! I keep tellin’ ya to slow down when ya eat or yer gonna choke!” Chided a smaller ashen Umamusume wearing red and blue ear covers.

Oguri Cap got the last bit of cough out of her system. “Sorry Tamamo. I wasn't expecting a sneeze just now. Do you think I'm getting a cold?” she wonders. “It has been raining recently.”

Tamamo Cross dismisses the notion. “You? Get sick? I ain't seein that happenin. It's probably somebody talkin ‘bout ya.”

“Hmm, I suppose you're right.” Oguri Cap nods. Then she went back to scarfing down the rest of her plates.

“O-oi Oguri! What did I just tell ya about slowin down! Chew yer food, don’t scarf it all down!!” Exclaimed a frantic Tamamo Cross, arms flailing.

Wild Hunt hesitated. Aside from the tracksuit, all she had was her old hoodie and patched-up pants. Everyone else here had proper uniforms.

Meadow noticed and smiled. “Don't worry, Trainer Arai asked me to give you something. He prepared it for you.” She handed Hunt the bag she had been carrying.

Sure enough, there it was — a Tracen Academy school uniform, neatly folded. Wild Hunt stared at it for a long moment. The purple fabric looked too clean, like it's brand new. It felt so foreign to her.

Still… she put it on.

The cafeteria was a blur of voices, laughter, and movement. Students chatted at long tables, tails swishing as they traded stories and snacks. Wild Hunt followed Meadow closely, doing her best not to look lost.

“You'll get used to the noise,” Meadow said with a grin. “It's always like this before training. Everyone's hyped.”

Hunt only nodded, eyes darting around. Every now and then, someone's gaze lingered on her — the new girl with the street-tough look and quiet eyes. 

She sat down across from Meadow, and began to vigorously eat her food. In her time living on the streets, Hunt could only get either scraps from trashcans or stolen food from the local street gangs. Here in the academy, the food was freshly made, and warm. And even better, free.

Meadow giggled at the sight before her. “You're a messy eater, huh?”

Hunt paused her eating and looked up at Meadow in confusion. “It’s just… I never had food like this before… I wanna make sure I eat as much as I can while I'm here…” She mumbled, poking at her food.

“Doesn't mean you should overeat. You'll get too sick for training if you do.” Meadow lectured her. “Besides, you'll get plenty of opportunities to enjoy the food here.” 

Meadow spots a few rice grains stuck to Hunt's face. She took a napkin and reached out to clean Hunt’s face.

“So,” Meadow started, “Trainer Arai told me you're new to racing?”

Wild Hunt, a little surprised by Meadow cleaning her face, snorted softly. “You could say that. I've run before. Just not… like this. For competition.”

Meadow nodded her head. “That's alright. Everyone starts somewhere.”

“Somewhere, sure. But most people don't start under a bridge.”

The words slipped out sharper than Hunt intended. She flinched and looked away from Meadow, “Sorry…”

Meadow blinked, then gave a small, sympathetic smile. “Then maybe you'll end up somewhere better.”

Wild Hunt looked at her, surprised by the warmth in her tone. “You're…not upset?”

Meadow Dancer laughed, “why would I be upset?”

“You're weirdly nice,” Wild Hunt couldn’t help but say.

“You'll get used to it.”

Training began at midday. The field glistened under the sun, perfectly maintained — every blade of grass trimmed, and every lane marked cleanly.

Wild Hunt's group was led by an assistant coach named Minami. She was strict but patient. The kind of trainer who could spot a mistake from fifty meters away.

“Alright ladies,” Minami called out, clipboard in hand. “Warm-up laps, then form drills. We have a new member today — Wild Hunt. Treat her like any other student.”

The group murmured polite greetings, though a few sideways glances gave away their doubts.

Sakura Glory — the sleek, perfect runner from before — stood near the front. She didn't say a word, but the flick of her tail was sharp as a blade.

Wild Hunt met her gaze briefly before looking away. Fine. Let them stare if they want. She'd show them what she could do.

The first lap went well enough — until it didn't. 

Her stride was powerful, but uneven. Her breathing came too fast. The track's surface threw her off, Hunt's feet sinking slightly with every step. On the streets, she'd learn to run on instinct — fast, raw, wild. Here, precision mattered. Balance. Control.

Hunt hated it.

“Wild Hunt, shorten your stride!” Minami called out. “You're wasting power on acceleration!”

Wild Hunt gritted her teeth. “I'm running how I've always run!”

Minami's tone sharpened. “And if you want to win, you'll need to learn to adapt!”

The words hit harder than she expected. She stumbled, nearly losing her footing. The others overtook her easily. Sakura Glory glided past her like a swan on calm water.

By the end of practice, her legs ached and her pride was in pieces.

Later, as the group dispersed, Sakura approached the exhausted Wild Hunt — calm, collected, every inch the model student.

“I admit, you have a lot of raw power,” she said evenly. “But that strength is wasted if you can't control it.”

Wild Hunt scowled. “Thanks for the lecture.”

“I'm doing you a favor,” Sakura said. “You can't survive here running like a stray. Tracen Academy doesn't reward recklessness.”

Hunt bristled. “Then maybe Tracen’s the one that's wrong.”

Sakura's eyes narrowed at that remark, a frown forming her face. “Think what you will. But know this: the finish line doesn’t care about who's right. Only who wins.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Wild Hunt standing there, fist clenched and heart pounding.

That evening, as she sat on the bleachers, watching the sun set over the tracks, Meadow Dancer found her.

“Tough day?” she asked gently.

Wild Hunt dropped her shoulders and sighed. “You could say that.” 

“You'll get there,” Meadow said, sitting beside her. “You’ve got a look when you run. Like you're chasing after something only you can see.”

Hunt glanced at her, confused. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Meadow shrugged. “Just… don't stop chasing it. Even if it feels impossible.”

Wild Hunt started out at the horizon, the wind tugging at her hair.

Impossible. Maybe. She spent her whole life running away from things. Maybe it was time to run toward something meaningful.

Chapter Text

Days blurred together — a rhythm of classes, training, and aching muscles. 

At dawn, she would join the other students for morning classes. The classroom felt another kind of endurance — the walls closing in and surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Her legs twitch beneath the desk as the teacher explained graded races and race strategies. The words sounded strange at first, like a language she hadn't learned yet, but Hunt started catching pieces that made sense.

By noon, she joined the other students on the track field. Their steps struck in unison, light, and sure. While hers landed heavy and uneven. She tried not to watch them pull ahead — tried not to think how much slower she was than everyone else. The training would leave her body aching even in places Hunt didn't know could hurt. 

Today felt the same as any other day. The classes passed and it was time for training again in the field.

Hunt was a mess of missteps and mistimed spurts. Her footing slipped on the curves, lungs burned before she reached the halfway mark, and frustration came in sharp exhales between laps. The others made it look so effortless — and she hated that.

“You're still pushing too hard on the first stretch,” Meadow called out, jogging beside Hunt's left side. “Save that power for when it counts. Match your breathing with your stride — slow and steady.”

Wild Hunt scowled, sweat dripping from her brow. “Easy for you to say. You make it look natural.”

Meadow only laughed, light and breathy. “That's because I fell on my face for months before I got it right.”

Meadow joined her running practice laps after she got a second wind. Pacing alongside her, she gave corrections and advice to Hunt's form, urging to feel the track instead of fighting it. Slowly, she began to find the rhythm hidden beneath the effort. The raw energy started to focus, her wild drive shaping into something powerful and precise. 

“Better,” praised Meadow as Hunt crossed the finish line of her last lap, panting hard. “You're learning to listen to your body.”

Wild Hunt gave a breathless laugh, “Yeah…guess it's starting to make sense…thanks to you.”

Meadow smiled, “Don't thank me yet. You've still got a long way to go. Trainer Arai is right — you got something special.”

After training finished Umamusume left to refresh in the locker rooms and spend the rest of the afternoon mingling with friends.

Hunt and Meadow sat under a tree near the track field, sharing a bottle of sports drink. The setting sun washed the sky in orange and gold, painting the field in warmth.

“You're getting better, you know,” Meadow said with a grin.

“Better at what?” Wild Hunt chuckled. “Tripping less?”

“At not giving up,” she replied softly.

Hunt scoffed, but her ears flicked at the words. “I can't take all the credit. I couldn't have done it without you.”

“Maybe,” Meadow said, stretching her legs out on the grass. “But everyone starts at the bottom. You were the one who kept climbing. I just helped when you slipped.”

They sat in silence, watching a few other Umamusume doing their cooldown laps.

After a while, Meadow spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” Hunt said cautiously.

Meadow asked softly, “What made you come here? To Tracen, I mean. You never talked about it before.”

The question hit deep. Her first instinct was to deflect — throw up a wall. But she hesitated. Meadow showed her so much kindness since she stayed at this school, even when she didn't have to. She was so patient during training to improve her running. Deep in Wild Hunt’s heart, a quiet trust for Meadow grew.

“I… didn't have anywhere else to go,” she admitted, voice low. “I spent my life running from one place to another, doing whatever I could to get by. It gets lonely after a while.”

Meadow Dancer said nothing, letting her continue.

“I used to watch races on TV through store windows. Those Umamusume… they ran like they had something worth chasing. Their eyes were so alive. Deep inside I wanted that. But that couldn't be me — I'm just a stray without a future.”

She gave a small laugh. “Then Arai found me. Under an overpass on a rainy night. Said he'd seen me running at the docks — told me I had potential.”

Meadow's eyes softened. “And he offered you a place at Tracen.”

“Yeah.” Hunt smiled faintly. “Said I'd get food, a bed, and a second chance. I didn't believe him at first… but now—”

She looked toward the track, the place that broke and rebuilt her. “Now I think I'm starting to understand what he meant. Maybe I can find something worth chasing after all.”

Meadow nodded, smiling gently. “Then let's make sure you do.”

A few nights later, rain whispered against the dorm windows — soft, steady, relentless. The patter of drops pulled Wild Hunt’s memories back of the streets — the cold pavement, soaked clothes, and the echo of passing cars. Her eyes shot open. Hunt stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come back. But it never did.

She turned towards Meadow's bed and froze. Empty. 

Frowning, she threw on her hoodie and stepped outside. The rain was cool and sharp. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth. Out on the dimly lit track, a lone figure ran through the downpour.

Wild Hunt stopped dead on the track, rain dripping from the hood of her jacket. For a moment she thought the rain was playing tricks on her — no one would be out here at this hour. But there she was: Meadow Dancer, sprinting through the downpour as if the night itself was chasing her. Hunt blinked hard, once, twice, but the silhouette didn't fade. “What in the world…” she whispered, her breath catching somewhere between awe and confusion.

“Meadow?” Hunt called out.

She slowed, pushing damp hair from her face. “Couldn't sleep,” Meadow said with a small smile. “And the rain feels nice.”

“You'll catch a cold,” Hunt grumbled.

“You sound like my trainer.”

Hunt sighed, though a laugh slipped past her lips. “You're insane.”

“Maybe,” Meadow said, holding out a hand. “Come run with me?”

Wild Hunt hesitated. The rain chilled her to the bone — yet it smelled like freedom. Like home.

“...Fine.” She took Meadow's hand and stepped onto the wet turf.

They started slow, splashing through puddles as the rain fell harder, laughter breaking through between gasps for air. For once, Wild Hunt wasn't escaping anyone or anything — she was just running. It felt wild. Liberating.

When they finally stopped, drenched, and breathless, Meadow grinned. “See? Not so bad, was it?”

Hunt flicked her head, sending droplets flying. “You're such a weirdo.”

“Maybe. But it feels good to run for fun, doesn't it?” Meadow said, her smile soft and knowing.

Hunt tried to roll her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “...Yeah. It does.”

As they walked back to the dorms, Wild Hunt caught her reflection in a window — soaked, tired, but smiling.

For the first time since she’d come to Tracen Academy, she didn't see the stray who lived under the bridge. She saw someone different. Someone who wasn't running alone.

Chapter Text

The morning sun warmed gently over Tracen Academy's track, the smell of dew mixing with the earthy tang of trampled turf.

Trainer Arai stood near the edge of the field, stopwatch in hand, watching as two figures rounded the far corner.

Wild Hunt’s long stride had become steady — smoother than the awkward gallop she started with weeks ago. Her footing no longer faltered; eyes were focused ahead, not at her feet. Running next to Hunt, as always, was Meadow Dancer, her movements graceful and fluid, a living metronome of rhythm and poise. 

Arai squinted his eyes, quietly timing their lap on his stopwatch. Hunt crossed the finish line with a burst of speed, gasping but smiling. Meadow was only half a stride behind, laughing as she slowed to a jog.

“You’ve really cleaned up your cornering,” Arai called out, walking towards them. “And your pacing — finally something a trainer can be proud of.”

Wild Hunt bent over, hands on her knees, sweat dripping from her chin. “Tch…still feels like I'm falling behind,” she muttered between breaths.

Meadow placed a gentle hand on her back, smiling brightly. “You're catching up faster than you think. Your stamina's doubled since last week.”

Arai studied Hunt for a moment — that stubborn glint in her eyes, the same look he'd seen the day Arai saw her running alone in the docks. But now, there's something new beneath it — steadiness, purpose.

He nodded to himself.

“Wild Hunt,” Arai said, voice steady and firm. “It's time.”

Hunt blinked, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Time for what?”

“Your Junior Make Debut.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, carried by the wind blowing over the track. Meadow's eyes widened in excitement. “Her debut? Really?!”

Arai smiled faintly, nodding once.

“You've earned it. I sent in the recommendation to the faculty this morning. The paperwork is being processed now.”

Wild Hunt's heart skipped a beat. She stared at him, disbelief and anxiety warring in her expression. “My…debut? Arai, are you sure I'm ready? There's still so much I can mess up — my strides, my starts, my—”

“You're ready,” Arai interrupted firmly. His tone left no room for argument. “I wouldn't have signed you up if I didn't believe that.”

Meadow beamed and nudged Hunt playfully. “See? Even your trainer believes in you.”

“‘Even your trainer’?” Arai raised an eyebrow. “I have always believed in Wild Hunt since the beginning.”

But the light humor faded as he looked back at Hunt. His voice softened, but carried weight. Arai's hand rested on Hunt's head, a comfort feeling welled up in her chest.

“Hunt, you've come farther than anyone expected. When you stepped onto this academy, you were directionless and afraid. It showed in your running. Now, you have direction and the courage to chase what lies ahead. That's what it means for Umamusume to run.”

He paused, letting his words settle.

“Your debut will be in two weeks. That gives us time to polish your starts and adjust your pace for the final stretch. I want you ready to give everything when that gate opens.”

Hunt clenched her fists, nervous energy coursing through her veins. “Two weeks, huh….” She muttered. “Guess I better make every run count.”

Meadow Dancer smiled, her voice bright and earnest. “You got this, Hunt. You've worked too hard to doubt yourself now. I'll be right there cheering you on!”

Arai nodded approvingly, stepping back as the morning wind brushed past his coat. “Good. That's the spirit I want to see. Both of you — keep it up.”

Arai lingered by the track once more. Hunt had already returned to the starting line, eyes set forward again. Meadow followed close behind her, ready to pace another lap.

Arai couldn't help but smile.

“Yeah…you're ready,” he murmured under his breath. “You've come a long way.”

The halls of Tracen were silent at night, save for the faint glow of a fluorescent light in Arai's office. He sat behind his deck, typing the final approval into the academy's registry — Wild Hunt, qualified for junior debut. 

The screen's glow reflected in his eyes as he leaned back, hands folded, lost in thought.

Arai could still remember the meeting with the faculty a month ago, when he first proposed bringing Hunt into the academy.

“You can't just bring in a stray from the streets and expect her to race.”

“She doesn't belong here. Tracen is for the best of the best, not charity cases.”

The words echoed in his memory, cold and certain. But Arai stood his ground. Because he'd seen something in her that no one else did — the same spark that burned in every great Umamusume's heart. The kind that can't be taught, only found. 

He exhaled softly, eyes drifting to a framed photograph sitting at the edge of his deck. The picture was old and sun-faded — a much younger Arai stood beside a smiling Umamusume, her racing silks bright and proud, the two of them caught mid-laugh before a track meet.

He picked up the frame, running a thumb along the cracked corner of the glass. 

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he murmured. “You'd have liked Wild Hunt. She got the same fire you did.”

Setting the photo back down, Arai turned once more to the glowing screen.

“You'll prove them wrong, Hunt,” he said quietly. “And this is the only beginning.”

Arai clicked the final confirmation — the digital stamp approving her debut.

Leaning back, he allowed himself a small smile.

“You're gonna show the world what you're made of,” he whispered, gaze lingering on the photo. “The beginning of your own legend…”

The office light flickered once, casting long shadows across the walls. Arai sat for a moment longer, listening to the silence, before turning off the monitor and heading for the door — confident that Wild Hunt's story is just beginning.

Chapter Text

The air inside the strategy room was heavy with tension and the faint hum of the crowd outside. Charts, race data, and course maps littered the table as Arai, Wild Hunt, and Meadow Dancer gathered around it, the pre-race briefing coming to an end.

“This one's a 1400 meter turf course,” Arai said, his fingers tracing the shape of the oval track on the tablet screen. “Short, fast, and unforgiving. You'll need to be smart about your pacing.”

Wild Hunt nodded along, trying to keep her breathing even. Her first official race — her debut — and already the energy of the venue pressed on Hunt from every direction.

Arai continued, his tone steady but serious. “You won't be alone out there. Sakura Glory is racing too.”

The name froze Hunt mid-breath. She remembered the proud, sharp-eyed girl from her first days at Tracen Academy — the one who mocked her awkward running form, who regarded her as a stray pretending to be a racer. 

“She's the favorite to win,” Arai said. “A pace chaser. Sakura will move close to the front early on and stick to the leaders until the final stretch.”

Wild Hunt clenched her fists. “Then maybe I should do the same. If I can match her stride for stride—”

Arai shook his head before she could finish. “No. That's not your style.”

She blinked. “My style?”

“You fit the late surger strategy better,” he said simply. “You've got raw power, more than most. But if you waste that strength trying to keep up early, you'll burn out before the final spurt. Stay in the middle of the pack. Save that energy. When the others start running out of breath, that's when you run like you mean it.”

Wild Hunt frowned, uncertain — then slowly nodded. Arai's reasoning made sense. She had always felt stronger near the end, when instinct took over and the world blurred.

“Got it.” She said quietly.

Meadow smiled from her seat. “Then it's time to go. The race will start soon.”

As Wild Hunt turned to leave, Arai called out, “Hunt.”

She stopped and looked back.

“You've come far,” he said, voice softer now. “Just remember what you've learned — and believe in the legs that brought you here.”

Meadow gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I'll be cheering for you in the stands. Make it count.”

Wild Hunt exhaled, nodded once , and headed for the gate entrance.

The tunnel leading to the track was alive with light and noise. She could already hear the crowd — cheers, murmurs, a thousand voices mixing into one rumbling pulse. And then she saw her.

Sakura Glory.

The other girl stood tall and composed, her pink hair swaying as she turned towards Wild Hunt. For a moment, they simply stared at each other — no words, just the weight of old pride and new resolve between them.

Sakura's gaze narrowed. “You've changed,” she said, voice calm but sharp.

Wild Hunt smirked faintly. “I'm not the same girl you met back then.” Then, her tone deepened, more certain: “I'll beat you today. I'll prove I belong here.”

For a heartbeat, Sakura Glory's expression flickered — surprise, maybe even respect — before she smiled coolly. “Then show me, Wild Hunt. Words mean nothing without action.”

She walked past, the echo of her steps swallowed by the thunder of the crowd outside.

Wild Hunt watched her go, then squared her shoulders and stepped out onto the track.

The sunlight hit her eyes, the turf gleaned beneath her feet, and the noise of the audience wrapped around her like fire. She walked towards her gate — number four — and took her place among the other racers.

Hunt’s heartbeat quickened. She could hear the restless shifting of feet and murmurs of the competitors beside her. To her left, Sakura Glory stood poised and confident.

“Focus,” Wild Hunt told herself. “Just run.”

In the stands, Arai leaned forward, arms crossed tightly, while Meadow Dancer clasped her hands together, whispering encouragement under her breath.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the race course:

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Junior Make Debut is about to begin!”

Wild Hunt took a deep breath. Every nerve in her body was alive.

“Three…”

She fixed her eyes straight ahead.

“Two…”

Her muscles coiled.

“One…”

The gate clanged open.

The burst of wind, turf, and thunder filled the air as Wild Hunt, Sakura Glory, and the rest of the racers surged forward into the roaring light.

The sound of the starting bell cracked through the air—

“And they're off!”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Umamusume burst from the gates in a blur of color and thunder. Turf flew, sunlight glinted off their hair, and the race began.

“Early into the first leg, Sakura Glory moves up from the outside!” The announcer called out, his voice booming over the speakers. “She's wasting no time establishing position near the front! Calm, confident, and already putting pressure on the leaders!”

From her position, Wild Hunt could see Sakura's pink hair bobbing ahead, already weaving toward the front. A spark of instinct told her to chase, to match her speed.

But she heard Arai's words echo in her mind — “Save that energy. When the others start running out of breath, that's when you run like you mean it.”

Wild Hunt took a deep breath and steadied her pace, keeping herself nestled in the middle of the pack. The sound of pounding footsteps surrounded her like a storm; elbows brushed, shoulders knocked, and the pressure from every side threatened to box her in.

“Wild Hunt's running in the center of the pack!” the announcer continued. “A risky position for a debut runner — she'll need to stay sharp to avoid getting blocked!”

“Don't panic,” she told herself. “Just keep the rhythm going.”

Hunt felt her legs find that familiar cadence, her breathing syncing with the flow of the race. Ahead, Sakura Glory maintained her poise, keeping just behind the front runner, perfectly positioned for the later stages.

In the stands, Meadow Dancer leaned over the railing, voice nearly drowned by the crowd. “You got this, Hunt! Keep your head up!”

Beside her, Arai folded his arms, watching closely. When he saw Wild Hunt settle comfortably in the middle instead of pushing forward too soon, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

“She remembered,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

The first corner came and went. The pace quickened. One by one, the early sprinters began to falter — their strides shortening, posture tightening. The pack of Umamusume began to stretch apart as stamina became the deciding factor.

“And now, we're entering the halfway mark! The front runners are beginning to lose their rhythm! Sakura Glory still holds near the lead — but look at this! Wild Hunt is moving through the pack!”

It was subtle at first. A shift of the shoulder, a quick step through an opening, a burst of speed at just the right moment. Wild Hunt wove through the other racers like she was navigating the narrow alleyways of her old life, slipping between gaps that didn't seem to exist a heartbeat before.

Her pulse surged with exhilaration. The crowd blurred into streaks of color, the noise fading until all Wild Hunt heard was her own breathing and the pounding of her feet.

By the time they entered the final corner, Wild Hunt reached the front cluster — still a few lengths behind Sakura Glory, who had just overtaken the front runner.

“And there's Sakura Glory taking first position into the final stretch!” the announcer shouted. “But not too far — Wild Hunt is closing in!”

The final stretch exploded into chaos.

Wild Hunt dug deep, her body screaming but her mind clear. She burst past two more racers, speed building, legs burning.

Now!

The power she had saved throughout the race came roaring to life in full force.

She was closing in on Sakura Glory—

One length

Half a length 

Now neck and neck

The crowd was deafening. Meadow's hands clasped over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. Arai gripped the railing, shouting over the roar of the crowd. 

“Go, Hunt!! Keep going!!”

And somehow, she heard him.

Wild Hunt found the last ember of strength deep inside and threw herself forward, stride long and desperate, eyes locked on the finish line.

The two of them — Wild Hunt and Sakura Glory — running side by side, neither giving an inch. The world narrowed to the white line ahead.

And then —

They crossed.

A flash and a roar.

Silence followed.

Every racer slowed to a crawl. Wild Hunt’s chest heaved; her legs trembled. She'd given everything — every ounce of strength, every drop of will.

The announcer's voice cracked through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen…a photo finish! We're waiting on the final result—”

The crowd held their breath. Even Sakura Glory stood still, glancing sideways at Wild Hunt with a mix of fatigue and respect.

Time stretched.

Then—

“The results are in! First place — Sakura Glory! By the narrowest margins!”

The stands erupted in applause.

Sakura Glory, still panting, raised her head high. A victory hard-earned.

Wild Hunt sank to her knees, gasping, sweat dripping down her face. She lost — barely, reaching only 2nd place.

The locker room was quiet, save for the distant rumble of the crowd still buzzing beyond the concrete walls. Wild Hunt sat on the bench, her head bowed, shoulders trembling. Her racing jersey was still streaked with dirt and sweat, a water bottle crumpled in her hands. The glimmer of the fluorescent lights caught the tears that dripped from her chin.

When the door opened, she didn't look up. Meadow Dancer rushed in first, worry breaking through her usual composure. “Hunt!” she fell to her knees beside her, wrapping her arms around Wild Hunt's shoulders. “You did amazing out there—”

Wild Hunt's breath hitched. “I…lost.”

Arai's footsteps were slow, steady, echoing through the locker room. He stopped a few feet away, his expression unreadable, then softened. Hunt lifted her tear-filled eyes toward him. The sight of her trainer — calm, patient, and proud — was all it took to shatter her composure completely.

She rose to her feet, stumbled once, and buried her face into his chest. “I lost, Arai!” Her voice cracked. “I gave everything I had, and still — still it wasn't enough! I couldn't beat her… I couldn't live up to you or Meadow—”

Arai's hand rested gently on her head, his fingers brushing through her damp hair. “You're right,” he said quietly. “You didn't win today.”

Wild Hunt froze at the bluntness of his words. But before despair could take root, his voice softened further.

“But you accomplished something far more important.”

She looked at him through wet lashes.

“You showed them,” Arai said. “All of them. Every person in those stands today saw what you can do. They saw your fire, your strength, your will to run. You didn't just chase Sakura Glory — you touched their hearts. The crowd wasn't only cheering for her, Hunt. They were cheering for you too.”

Meadow nodded, holding Hunt's hand. “He's right. You should've heard them, Hunt. They were with you every step of that last stretch. You lit up the track.”

Wild Hunt trembled again, but this time it wasn’t out of sadness. Her spirits lifted a little higher.

Her tears still fell, but her expression steadied. “Then…what happens now?” She asked, voice quiet but determined. “What do I do next? I lost my debut… is it over for me?”

Arai smiled faintly, the corner of his eyes crinkled. “Far from it. This is just your first step. We'll register you for another race soon — the Junior Maiden. You'll get another chance to prove yourself. Until then…” he placed a hand on Hunt’s shoulder. “Rest. You earned it.”

Wild Hunt wiped her eyes, the exhaustion still in her face, but her gaze shone with renewed resolve. “I'll be ready,” she said.

Arai nodded. Meadow gave her one last hug. Together, the three of them walked out of the locker room — the mentor, the friend, and the runner whose fire had only just begun to burn.

Meanwhile, in another locker room across the hall —

Water splashed into a sink. Sakura Glory stared at her reflection in the mirror, droplets tracing down her cheeks. Her breath came slow, uneven.

The image in her mind replayed over and over —

Wild Hunt’s shadow tearing through the field behind her, eyes fierce, closing the gap until their shoulders nearly brushed. That pressure…that presence. 

Terrifying.

Absolutely terrifying.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the sink. It was like a predator hunting prey… if she had been slower by even a few seconds —

She exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away. Then, slowly, her reflection steadied.

“She's different now,” Sakura muttered to herself. “Stronger.”

She clenched her fists, a spark reigniting in her chest. “So be it.” Her lips curved into a thin, determined smile. “Next time we meet… I'll beat her again. No matter what.”

The locker room lights flickered above Sakura as she turned from the mirror — and the fire in her heart burned brighter than ever.