“Ahhh, that was nice…”
The two freshly scrubbed fillies toweled off while chatting.
Sweep was doing most of the heavy lifting conversation-wise, with Kaisoku clumsily picking up whatever she tossed out.
The dynamic was actually pleasant enough.
Kaisoku couldn’t help noticing, though, that Sweep’s tone with her was considerably gentler than the spiky attitude she’d shown toward Kita.
Probably just being polite to a near-stranger.
Kaisoku didn’t dwell on it.
Social dynamics had never been her strong suit—not because she was truly anxious around people, but because she was socially illiterate.
She struggled with calibrating distance, couldn’t read subtext, and inevitably fumbled whenever she tried to take the initiative.
So she’d long since defaulted to passive mode: let the other person throw questions, then respond.
Friends in her previous life had called her the “poke-and-she-moves” type—lazy unless prodded.
But it beat making a fool of herself.
She wasn’t afraid of human interaction (unlike the original Toujou Kaisoku).
She just hated the mental gymnastics of weighing every word.
As a friend, she was dependable.
As a first impression, she came across as aloof.
Diamond, who’d lived with the original Kaisoku long enough to know the difference, was a special case.
To sell the transmigrator act, Kaisoku had been playing up the social anxiety angle.
Fortunately, faking a shutdown wasn’t difficult—though Diamond’s perceptiveness kept her slightly on edge.
In the changing room, Kaisoku found fresh clothes waiting in her locker.
Diamond had come and gone.
The outfit was clearly not anything she would have bought for herself—even the underwear still had tags on.
Diamond had obviously detoured to a store and picked out a full set based on Kaisoku’s measurements.
“…Honestly…
so meddlesome.” She said it to herself, but the gesture was too thoughtful to refuse.
Kaisoku peeled off the sodden sportswear and slipped into what turned out to be an unexpectedly elaborate ensemble—all lace trim and delicate flourishes.
She studied herself in the mirror, turning once.
“Being an umamusume really is cheating in the looks department.
Back in my world, every single one of us would be model-tier.” She marveled at the effortless beauty dividend of her new species.
The natural white hair alone was an XP-critical-hit for anyone from China.
How many people would lick their screens when this character eventually got added to the gacha?
“Now the stockings…
white?
Won’t they make my legs look thick?” She hesitated with the tights, then glanced at her legs—long, shapely, carrying just enough definition—and decided she’d been overthinking.
An umamusume could carry extra weight literally anywhere except her legs.
The golden ratio was practically a species-wide perk..
In a past life she could’ve spent years studying proportional theory.
Now she just…
had it.
Marveling at the gap between umamusume and humans, she finally finished dressing.
The overall look leaned toward Gothic Lolita—it would only need a hat to complete the aesthetic.
The abundance of lace was probably Diamond’s personal taste, but paired with Kaisoku’s serene, slightly fragile face, it painted a picture of a beautifully delicate invalid.
The art school part of her brain kicked in: If I were designing a gacha skin, add an IV drip stand.
Or a nurse outfit.
The whales would eat it up.
…I’ve been an umamusume for how long and I’m still thinking like an art school graduate.
She sighed at her own incorrigible brain.
“Whatever—everyone’s probably waiting.
Let’s go.”
She pushed open the changing room door to find Kita sandwiched between Diamond and Sweep on a bench, one arm around each, working both flanks with the ease of a seasoned operator.
Kaisoku stopped in the doorway.
The soul of a dramatic scene composition burned inside her.
“Ah—Toujou…”
“Sorry.
Clearly I’ve come at a bad time.”
“Huh?” Kita blinked, lacking the cultural database to supply the appropriate meme response.
She settled for confused blinking.
Kaisoku let it slide—she was just running through the motions of an ancient internet bit anyway.
“That outfit looks perfect on you, Toujou!” Diamond pressed her palms together.
“Approved!”
“Definitely—is that Gothic Lolita?” Sweep studied Kaisoku’s new look and nodded approvingly.
“You know what, Kaisoku would make an amazing vampire cosplayer.”
“Sweep, you’re a genius!
“Yes!
White skin plus that fragile aura—perfect for a vampire-themed beauty!”
“…” Kaisoku privately agreed, but before she became anyone’s dress-up doll, she spoke up.
“Satono, these aren’t my clothes, are they?”
“I saw them in a shop window on the way and thought they’d suit you!
Ehehe~” Diamond tapped herself on the head with a tongue-out expression—attempting the classic cute-girl deflection.
“And I was right!
I had no idea you’d look this good in Lolita.”
“Nine out of ten.
Maybe even ten.” Kita stroked her chin in appraisal.
“Honestly, Kaisoku, you should be an idol.”
“Please no…
Performing on stage while thousands of people stare at me?
That’s a form of torture.” This one was heartfelt.
Handshake events alone would give her lockjaw from fake smiling.
“Aww, but you’d be so good at it.” Kita sighed wistfully.
“If you became an idol, I’d have a new favorite!”
“You change your favorite—what, every hour?
Who was the last one?
Lanzhu Zhong?”
“Ehehe~” Kita deployed the cute deflection.
Super effective.
Diamond took a critical hit to the heart.
Unable to recover, she let Kita’s chronic infidelity slide.
Kaisoku observed with clinical detachment as Kita effortlessly navigated the treacherous waters between Sweep and Diamond, maintaining warm relations with both through sheer social agility.
The girl’s player energy was off the charts.
She could probably coast through life on charm alone.
Truly worthy of the Kitasan Black name.
I can already see the future: Kita, sprinting down the street, pursued by a mob of umamusume she’s led on.
Kaisoku considered warning her but decided Kita was probably enjoying herself.
She gave up and settled for watching with warm, pitying eyes.
Internally, the kettle was already whistling.
“Kaisoku’s staring is kind of freaking me out…
I feel a chill down my spine.” Kita shrank into herself.
“Are you judging me in your head?”
“Me?
Never.
I don’t judge corpses.” Kaisoku’s reply was ice-cold.
“It’s your imagination.”
“Don’t mentally classify me as a corpse!
That’s even scarier!” Kita protested.
“…Though that line was pretty cool.
Wish I’d recorded it.”
“—Indeed.” The girl’s voice, when she let it go flat, had the timbre of a certain high-tier voice actress.
Being a middle schooler, there was still a trace of youthful softness to it.
Right on the money—it’s Yui Ogura.
She made the assessment internally.
This character was definitely designed for Yui Ogura.
“Anyway—we’ve confirmed you have talent, but I’m guessing you still haven’t changed your mind?” Diamond asked.
“Come to think of it, your finances are tight…
Is it the tuition at Tracen that worries you?”
“That’s part of it.” Kaisoku nodded.
“I’m confident I can earn a scholarship, but Tracen Academy doesn’t put much weight on written exams, does it?
At the end of the day, it’s a sports school.”
“Confident about a scholarship…” Diamond tilted her head.
“But your grades are mid-pack?”
“…Huh?”
This was news to Kaisoku.
Since when were her grades mediocre?
“Most umamusume don’t exactly ace their academics, though.
Kita didn’t even pass the last round of exams.” Sweep added helpfully.
“Umamusume having bad grades is basically common knowledge at this point.”
So THAT’s why Tōdai doesn’t take umamusume.
Most of them are basically jocks.
I understand completely—wait, no I don’t!
They’re academic underperformers because all they think about is racing.
Don’t blame it on being a different species!
It made sense, though.
With physical abilities so far above humans, competing for spots at prestigious universities felt like leaving the diamond in the rough to pick up pebbles.
But the irony was that because every umamusume had superhuman physicality, the competition within their own lane was even more brutal.
“I’ve still got a year and a half.
If I start grinding now, I can do it.” Kaisoku answered firmly.
“Going straight to Tracen, I wouldn’t stand a chance against people who’ve been training their whole lives.
Talent, willpower—I can’t compete with those monsters.”
“I really think you’re underestimating yourself…
You’re genuinely impressive.” Kita sighed.
“But if that’s your decision, I won’t push it.
Any more and I’d be overstepping.”
“True enough…
As long as you’re happy, Toujou.
Tracen or no Tracen—it’s not like we can’t be friends across different schools, right?” Diamond thought it over and realized she’d visit Kaisoku regardless.
They’d only just become friends; no way she was letting that go.
“Wherever you end up, I’ll come find you!”
“Satono…” Kaisoku felt a genuine twinge of warmth.
Sorry for mentally calling you all jocks earlier.
Umamusume really are kind and dependable.
Ethereal creatures like this would never strongarm someone against their will.
This peaceful world was definitely the right call—
“There’s an umamusume I want at Tracen Academy.” Symboli Rudolf’s expression was dead serious.
“She has flaws, but the talent is undeniable.
Leaving someone this gifted outside of Tracen would be a waste—for her and for us.
I’m recommending an immediate special recruitment once she graduates middle school.
The student council will cover tuition.
Compared to talent, money is a rounding error.”
“But…
Rudolf, you haven’t even asked her yet, have you?” Maruzensky offered the routine reminder, long since accustomed to Rudolf’s talent-obsessed tendencies.
“You should at least get her consent before—”
“You’re right, I got ahead of myself.
Then let’s visit her school tomorrow for a private conversation.” Rudolf nodded, acknowledging the oversight.
But given her decisive nature, Maruzensky already knew: nobody was going to stop Rudolf in this mode.
“Yes, yes…
I’ll have everything ready.” Maruzensky offered a silent prayer for the soon-to-be-ambushed girl while organizing paperwork.
Rudolf’s idea of “asking” was to show up with every form pre-filled and every procedure pre-approved, waiting for nothing more than a nod.
The sheer pressure of the experience might leave psychological scars—though Rudolf never intended that.
Her personality simply generated a suffocating aura of intensity.
It was practically a talent in itself, and it was completely involuntary.
Well, involuntary around most umamusume.
“President!” Rudolf’s serious façade lasted approximately three minutes before crumbling under a timid little “President?” from the doorway.
A ponytailed girl bounced into the student council room, making a beeline for Rudolf’s desk with zero ceremony.
She opened the second drawer from the top—clearly a well-practiced route—fished out a piece of candy, and plopped herself directly onto Rudolf’s lap.
The whole sequence was so smooth, so casual, so obviously rehearsed through repetition that “habitual offender” didn’t begin to cover it.
“Teio, what brings you here at this hour?”
“I was booored—”
“Class?
Not paying attention is one thing, but failing the midterms means remedial lessons, you know.”
“I wasn’t cutting class!
The teacher suddenly remembered he had a date and bailed, so it turned into study hall!” Tokai Teio corrected indignantly.
“But hey, now I get to visit the President.
Silver lining.”
“You…” Rudolf’s iron composure had never once survived more than a few minutes around Teio.
But Teio’s attention had already drifted to the folder in Rudolf’s hand.
“Toujou Kaisoku?”
She read the name on the file, then studied the ID photo—a girl whose eyes were hidden behind her bangs—and murmured, curious:
“Who is this kid?”