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Why are we here? Just to run? (Umamusume snippet)
🕑 Added 2025-09-13 15:01:39 +0000 UTCOne might think that being born as an umamusume is a peaceful world like this one. Where we are so beloved and appreciated by all, would mean an easy-ish life– not that I was implying the life of an uma was free of troubles, or strife. Just… not as bad as my other life.
"You there! What are you wearing?" Of course, I'd long learned that wasn't the case. Ever since I'd learned about the life I wasn't living, really.
Holding back a sigh, I turn to the person that called out to me. But rather than a face, it's a pair of ears that greet me. They're brown coloured– with almost black tuffs of hair at their tips, and on the left ear is a bright yellow bow, to which some tasteful looking gold chains are attached. Looking down, I make eye contact with the uma, her straight brown hair frames a face not quite set in a frown and her eyes, highlighted with just a tiny bit of red at the corners, regard me with tired exasperation more than anything.
Unfortunately, "M'clothes?" My jet lagged brain finds itself incapable of formulating any sort of smart answer, prompting my mouth to take control of the situation by blurting out the first thing that it could– which at least wasn't a massive yawn…
Evidently, it wasn't the best of answers though, "I can see as much, yes." The power woman goes to rub her temple before sighing, "Where's your uniform? Today's the first day of school, so the Tracen student council is ready to–"
"D'nt have 'ne." Alas, I only registered the words 'where' and 'uniform'. Which was unfortunately enough for two braincells to touch and make my brain try and take control of the situation before my mouth could get me into trouble, "M'not a student…"
Something it, of course, was completely incapable of doing.
Now, I'd already caused some whispers and something of a scene. I was, after all, a rather sizable lady wearing casual clothes and pulling an almost me-sized ye-olde traveling trunk behind me. But telling someone with authority– whoever the heck they were, that I wasn't a student wasn't doing me any favours in terms of keeping a low profile, "What do you mean, 'you aren't a student'?" The uma crossed her arms as her face set into a proper frown… I didn't like her tone, it was the tone of very annoyed people about to make it my problem, "If you're no student then why are yo–?"
"Gilliane!?" Thankfully, before this could devolve into an interrogation where I was almost certain to do something very stupid, someone that could solve all our problems showed up.
"Hayakawa-San, you know this person?" The uma turned to look at the green garbed person rapidly approaching our position. For my part, I awkwardly waved at her as tension bled from my frame. I wouldn't have to explain anything, thank the lord!
"Hum– Well- yes! But-," Or not. Because my presence was making her incredibly flustered and she couldn't find any word to explain what was going on.
And so. I attempted to figure out a way to help her. It was a monumental effort that saw me close my eyes so I could try and shut-out the sun's baleful glare, and frown as the effort of thinking up words nearly overwhelmed my limited ability to think straight.
Eventually, I had a revelation and took a step forward, "Hi aunty, 'm here."
…Based on the shocked gasp I could hear around us. Maybe I should've let her explain things her way?
-[||]-
"You're lucky that I went to the front gate to greet the new students, young miss!"
"Yes aunty…" After regaining her wits, aunty Tazuna wasted no time in pulling me away from the gate– literally too, since she grabbed my hand.
"I was debating waiting for your phone call in my car," She also didn't hesitate to nag at me one bit, "Honestly, what would you have done if I'd done that?"
"Sleep." I answered shamelessly… and because it was the only thing on my mind at the moment.
"Sle–?! No, nevermind." My poor relative couldn't hold back a sigh, and instead took the moment to steel herself, "That's not what I should be asking. How did you even get to Tracen? And why didn't you call me?"
"Ph'ne's dead." Pulling my hand from hers, I took out my poor, poor abused phone. It was an older smart phone, just about enough to run a few lower end gashas– the irony of which wasn't lost to me –and completely beat up. The screen was more cracks than display, and its metal protective shell was dented in every which way possible. It was also very out of battery, "Ch'rg'r d'dnt work. D'dnt br'ng a sec'nd one…"
"Oh dear. I'll have to get you a new one then–," For an instant, her motherly nature shines through. Right before she remembers her other question, "Wait a moment, that doesn't answer how you got to Tracen? Please tell you took a ca–"
"Nh," Unfortunately for her, I did not and told her as much with a vague noise and shake of my head, "Ran."
"...You ran." I gave her a quick nod, before allowing myself to finally let out one of my massive yawns, "From the airport, all the way to Tracen Academy."
I started to nod again, only to realise two things. First, she'd stopped walking. Second, she was 'looking' at me through closed eyes and a wire thin smile. It was at this moment that, in an instant of clarity as sobering as a crossbow bolt hammering into your chestplate, I realised:
I'd fucked up.
-[||]-
What a pair we must have made. Me, a draft horse of a beast, kneeling on the grassy ground. Looking crestfallen with my head and ears drooping lower and lower from tiredness and shame as my aunt endlessly nagged at me, a mixture of frightened relief and indignant anger in her voice.
Thankfully, by the time I made my mistake she'd dragged me next to the school's office building. Between that and it being the first day of school, I didn't have to worry about people seeing this… I hoped. I didn't want to be the school's big weirdo again…
"Hahaha!" Just as it looked I'd be here until my legs were nothing but pins and needles, a pint-sized savior came to my rescue. No taller than a human tween, the only reason she wasn't eye level with me was due to the odd contraption she was standing on, "Don't be too harsh with her Tazuna! She's an Umamusume after all, and Umamusume are born to run!" Hearing her was like hearing one of God's proclamations– both in terms of volume and authority. There was not a single shred of doubt in her voice that Umas really were born to dash across the fields and tear past each other on the turf.
For a moment, I actually believed her. The way her light-brown, near orange, hair fluttered in the breeze. The theatrical, and perfectly executed, closing of her fan with a snap. Or how her blue eyes twinkled like diamonds of youthful excitement and energy… "Welcome to Tracen Academy, Miss Le Breton!" Huh, she knew my last name? Neat, "Tazuna endlessly talks about her precious li– young niece! It is a pleasure to meet you." Her enthusiasm didn't drop by any measure as she spoke. If anything, it only mounted. Snapping her fan open, she struck a pose. One of her arms was extended to the sides, encompassing some of Tracen's facilities, while the other held the fan– now somehow reading 'Bienvenue!' in a flowing, refined cursive font– right in front of her mouth, "I look forward to seeing you shine as you take on the Twinkle Series!"
Her words hung in the air. First with all the same energy and power as the rest of her little speech, only for them to start falling limp as neither me, nor Tazuna said anything. Glancing at my aunt, I could tell that she was quickly realising she'd forgotten to tell her boss a critical piece of information regarding my presence in Tracen Academy.
I knew that I should let her handle this. She was the director's secretary and best friend, she'd be able to explain everything in a nice, concise way that wouldn't embarrass anyone, "I hate racing." But, unfortunately, my mouth was too fast for anyone, let alone my own brain, to act before it could, "'m only here for the general education course."
As my mouth finished flapping its gums, all I could think was 'Thanks a lot for fucking things up on the first day in Japan, dumbass!' To which it cheekily replied 'You're welcome you sleep deprived asshole!'
Admittedly, the way the director's fan clattered to the ground at the same time my aunt facepalmed was kind of darkly funny.
-[||]-
Tumbling forward with an exhausted groan, the soft embrace of a bed greets me. The fact that it is half a size too small for my body barely even registers as droplets of water slide across my poorly dried form and soak into the fabric underneath me.
Another groan pushes past my lips as one of them passes over the sole of my left foot, sending a wave of unpleasant ticklishness through me. But in spite of that, I don't move an inch. Even through the towel I'd been cognisant enough to pull out of my trunk and lay over the blankets, the bed's comforting pull was too powerful for me to resist, and so I lay there, half asleep and half awake. The exhaustion of over nineteen hours of travel, more than fourteen of them spent in the cramped confines of a plane only barely accommodating to Umas my size, and the wet unpleasantness of failing to dry yourself properly battle one another for what feels like hours.
Every few seconds my eyelids slowly close, only to flutter open as my wet tail slaps my naked ass, or a droplet goes over a sensitive part of my body. In the end, one of them sliding right into my eye is what forces me to stop procrastinating and finish getting ready for bed. Waddling back to my travel trunk, I pull my other towel– before dipping back into the bathroom to grab one of the Tracen branded ones that are in there. I wrap the smaller of the two, that being the Tracen one, around the prodigious amount of red-orange hair cascading down my scalp, and properly dry off with my own.
It's no short affair, not when I'm as huge as I am. But by the time everything is said and done, getting up from the bed turned out to be the hardest part of the whole ordeal. Now dry, and with the towels on their rack in the bathroom, I look at the time digital clock on the stand, which reads 17:42. Once again, exhaustion hits me… and enough of my brain turns on that I remember that I also ran from the airport to here. Which added a good hour or two to this whole mess.
That seals the deal for me, and rather than get dressed, waste a few more hours and welcome my aunt home once she's done with work. I decide instead to just go the fuck to sleep. For a moment, I glance at the clothes that I wore, now shotgunned across the whole room, and ponder the pros and cons of using them as nightwear for tonight. Thankfully, the memories of being stuck in an airplane for hours on end haven't quite faded from my mind, and I decide to work up the– if not energy, then self-preservation –to pull my pajamas out of my stuff. Umazingly, I also have the genius idea of writing a note to tell my aunt I was going to bed and sliding it under the door.
With that final touch, I drop back into bed and… find that I just can't sleep. By the cursed will of whatever divinity has seen fit to mess with me, this whole short burst of activity has banished my tiredness just enough that I don't immediately pass out upon hitting the mattress.
Grumbling some, I actually put in the effort to slide under the covers and, with nothing else to do, I reflect on why someone like me: an uma so utterly disinterested in racing that she doesn't even know the name of her home country's prestigious races. Now finds herself in Tracen Academy, one of the world's most premiere training centres for racing umas.
It all started at the beginning of life really– mine specifically. My mom and dad are both humans, and so were their grandparents. Me being born an umamusume was both a shock and a delight to them. At first at least. Very quickly, it became clear that I'd be on the larger side of things. Something that wouldn't have been too much of an issue if mom had been an uma too. But being a regular human– well, hearing her say it, her pregnancy wasn't all that fun. The birth? Even worse.
Still, that had my parents primed for the future. Very quickly, they realised the difficulties of having a giant uma as a daughter and by the time I was three, they'd learned all they could from the literature they could find that could help them. Then, out of some bizarre-yet-genius inspiration, my dad looked up his family tree. He'd known for years that his own grandmother was an umamusume, one of no small renown apparently, but that the World Wars had been particularly unkind to his side of the family (the human side) staying in touch with the uma side of things. Some sort of bad blood apparently?
Regardless, while the more immediate family wasn't available, he discovered that he had a cousin, twice removed– or maybe a second cousin? Proper terminology is hard… Anyhow, that's how he knew to contact Auntie Tazuna. To say she was baffled by the fact she had family in France of all places would be an understatement. To hear my dad say it, it took numerous phone calls, emails with attached family tree diagrams and letters, all in hilariously broken Japanese and French, before she actually started to believe them. It's a good thing that they did too, because I was growing up quickly and she proved invaluable in helping them raise me correctly.
As for me, having 'Auntie Manga' come visit every so often was the best thing ever as a kid. So many One Piece volumes, smuggled straight out the country in her bags. My God.
To tell the truth, despite all that, I wasn't particularly keen on leaving my home and France to go to Tracen and Japan as a whole. Not just because I don't care much about racing, but also because I'm more of a cave dwelling amoeba than a migratory bird by nature. That didn't stop my parents though, far more outgoing than I'll ever be, they insisted that spending a few years in Japan would be great for my development.
In the end, I couldn't say no to them. Or my aunt. And thus, here I am. In Japan's biggest racer academy, sleeping in the guest bedroom of its undercover umamusume secretary on the day before trainers scout and select the trainees they'll coach and care for to the best of their abilities for the next three years…
Comments
poptidou
H O N H O N H O N
poptidou
I, as a French, would feel insulted by this. But I am also French. So...
Menthewarp
An isekai born and raised French? What a cruel fate.
Azena
French honse.
