Chapter 2

The kotatsu is humanity's greatest invention. 

I say this with absolute conviction, as a guy who had spent the last two hours burrowed waist-deep beneath its quilted blanket, watching a rerun of an old quiz show I didn't even care about. 

Outside, the neighborhood was gray, quiet, and freezing. Inside the kotatsu, the heater hummed against my shins, and my immediate plans for the afternoon involved not moving a single muscle until dinner.

When you have a sports recommendation already signed and sealed, middle school in late December is basically an extended vacation with a homeroom attendance requirement. Yuuki was probably at home agonizing over his empty wallet, and Shizuo was almost certainly jogging somewhere until his knees screamed. 

Me? Well, it's as you can see.

Then the front door was kicked open.

I don't mean that metaphorically. The heavy metal lock slammed against the wall with enough force to rattle the glass in the front shoe rack, sending a shudder straight through the floorboards. 

Heavy, furious footsteps stormed into the genkan, accompanied by the violent rustling of an unzipped gym bag.

I didn't even bother lifting my chin from the kotatsu table. 

"If you break the hinges off the front door again, Mom's going to make you pay for it out of your allowance," I called out, raising my voice just enough to carry down the hall. 

My twin sister stormed into view and went to the dining room, entirely ignoring my advice. 

Messy brown hair stuck out in every direction, her yellow eyes were narrowed into a lethal glare, and the ribbon on her white and purple Tracen Academy winter uniform was crooked down her chest like she had just come from a street fight. 

"Shut up, Yama! Ah! it's not here!? Where's Mom?"

"Mom's at the supermarket," I said smoothly. "And Dad's still at work. Which means you are completely, beautifully out of luck."

Yuri went back to the living room as she growled, a low, guttural sound that belonged more to a territorial guard dog than a middle school girl, and kicked the nearest baseboard with her sock. 

"I told her to leave them on the dining table! I literally texted her three times! Ugh.. the deadline was three o'clock, and Tachibana gave me until five to bring the signed guarantor copies!"

"Still flirting with deadline as usual, huh? Don't ever change oh a slacker sister of mine," I pointed out, finally shifting my gaze toward the ceiling.

"I was busy! Don't call me a slacker, you sloth!"

"Sure~ Sure~, just as you said." I replied offhandedly while refocusing my attention back at the TV.

Before Yuri could lunge across the carpet to throttle me, another set of footsteps sounded from the entryway. 

These were quiet. Deliberate, soft, and preceded by the unmistakable sound of outdoor shoes being slipped off with practiced care, followed by the polite alignment of the heels against the lower step.

"Um, Pokke-chan? Is everything alright?"

The voice was soft, clear, and carried a polite yet anxious tremor that did not fit the chaotic energy currently dismantling our hallway.

I turned my head toward the entryway just as the girl stepped into the living room frame. 

My brain did a quick double-take, catching the layout of the room and immediately freezing in place.

Golden-blonde hair parted neatly down the middle, with two lighter strands framing her face. Violet eyes that faded into warm amber at the edges, wide and startled. And worn neatly over her pristine Tracen uniform was the exact same purple ribbon Yuri wore, completely free of dirt or rebellious style.

It was the girl from the shrine stairs.

She stopped dead in her tracks the moment her gaze landed on me. Her ears, tipped forward with cautious curiosity, gave a sharp, involuntary twitch.

"Ah," she breathed, her fingers tightening around the strap of her leather school bag. "The boy from the shrine...?"

Beside her, Yuri froze. 

The panic of deadlines vanished from my sister's face in an instant, replaced by the kind of sharp squint she usually reserved for when something was amiss. She stepped directly between us, arms crossed over her crooked ribbon, looking back and forth like she was trying to spot an ambush.

"Hah?" Yuri barked, her voice dropping an octave. "The hell do you mean, Top Road? Where do you know my lazy-ass brother from?"

I sighed, pulling myself out of the kotatsu just far enough to sit up properly. 

"Good afternoon," I said, offering a polite, casual bow from the floor. "Nice to see you again. And to answer your question, Yuri, we crossed paths at the local shrine a week ago while she was training."

"Don't call me Yuri in front of my friends, you jerk!" she snapped, her tail flicking behind her in violent, irritated arcs.

"You're in my house," I replied, entirely unbothered. "I'll call you whatever I want."

Here is the thing about names in this world. 

Umamusume are born with birth names, recorded on official town registries just like anyone else. But the moment their consciousness awakens and they can speak, their other names reveal themselves. From that day onward, the public, the media, their peers, and their teachers all call them by that new names, or what we call here as soul names. 

To the rest of the world, my sister is Jungle Pocket. 

Her roommate here called her Pokke. The academy called her Jungle Pocket. If she ever debuted on the turf, thousands of people in the stands would scream Jungle Pocket until their throats bled.

But for me, she's just Yuri and will stay like that until I decided to change it.

Partly because our parents still called her that when she was being stubborn at the dinner table, but mostly out of pure sibling spite. Jungle Pocket sounded far too cool for a girl who used to eat handfuls of dirt in kindergarten and couldn't sleep throughout the night after she watched a horror movie trailer by accident. 

People outside our family occasionally mistook it for some deep, tender sibling bond. Though in reality, it was just ego of a child.

"Wait," the golden haired girl, who was called Top Road apparently, murmured, blinking rapidly as she looked between us. "You two are... siblings?"

"Even worse. We are twins," Yuri grumbled, though some of the hostile tension bled out of her shoulders. "Born five minutes apart. He stole all the useless genes first, thankfully."

"I'm content with my share of genes," I said as if I was an enlightened Buddha. "And it's not useless, you see? Without me tutoring you for six months straight, you wouldn't even pass Tracen written exam back then."

"Whatever! The papers aren't down here. Mom must have locked them in her desk upstairs. Top Road, come on, we're going up to my room while I text her again."

"Ah, pardon the intrusion," Top Road said, bowing deeply to me as she passed the threshold. 

"Make yourself at home," I said, offering a small, easy smile. "Mom should've cleaned her room, but things instantly become very messy once she enters. So I hope you can forgive her."

"Don't worry, Onii-san. As her roommate, I have adapted, somehow." Top Road nodded while giving a knowing look.

"My condolences." I said while putting both my hands on my chest apologetically.

"Hey! I heard that! And not you too, Top Road!" Yuri's voice drifted down from the upper landing, followed by the sound of her bedroom door swinging open with unnecessary force.

I listened to their footsteps move up to the second-floor hallway, shaking my head. 

Once the upper floor settled into the muffled rhythm of Yuri complaining on the phone, I pushed the kotatsu blanket aside and stood up. 

My legs protested the sudden action, but it's an etiquette as a host. If a guest was sitting in our house, someone had to act like a civilized human being, and it clearly wasn't going to be the girl currently threatening her mother over LINE.

I walked into the kitchen, turned on the tap, and filled a glass pitcher with cold water before dropping in two packets of roasted barley tea. 

Even in the dead of winter, cold tea is the standard in our house. Umamusume run hotter than normal humans; their basal metabolic rate burns like a furnace, especially after a train commute wrapped in winter layers. Growing up with Yuri and our mother, I was used to seeing them lounge on the balcony in cotton t-shirts while snow was actively dusting the handrail. 

While the tea steeped, I leaned my hips against the counter, pulled my smartphone from my tracksuit pocket, and opened the browser.

I didn't have to search very hard. URA official database is open to the public, and typing in Top Road produced a single, comprehensive profile within seconds.

A photo appeared first: the same girl upstairs, her golden hair brushed neatly, ears standing proud and straight, smiling with radiant optimism. 

Then I scrolled down to her race record, and the pieces from the shrine suddenly clicked into place.

Make Debut: December 5. Hanshin Racecourse, 2000 meters, turf. 

Result: Second place. 

I zoomed in on the race summary. She had entered the gates as the overwhelming first favorite, carried massive expectations from the crowd, and lost at the wire by less than a neck. A photo finish that went the other way by centimetres.

I stared at the screen, running the dates through my head.

Today was December seventeenth. 

Because of that single defeat, her Junior year campaign was effectively dead in the water. The big G1 races at the end of December such as the Asahi Hai and the Hopeful Stakes were out of reach. You didn't get into those without a debut win as the prerequisite at this date, those were just a week or so to go after all. 

Worse, the clock for the Classic Triple Crown was ticking down rapidly. 

If she wanted to run the Satsuki Sho in April, she had to win her maiden race immediately, ideally before February. Miss that cutoff, and she would have to pay a massive late-registration fee. That wasn't the only issue if she couldn't win her maiden race by February. She would be pressed to either taking a path through high-stakes prep races like the Yayoi Sho or the Spring Stakes aiming the top three for automatic berths in Satsuki Sho or she had to to scrape together enough prize money to qualify in under two months. 

Well, that was the case if she aimed for the top. But I believed it wasn't just if, her dedication in her training showed her ambition and abilities to not only aim for it, but really reach it.

I remembered the way her ears had drooped when her trainer offered that textbook encouragement about never giving up. 

She wasn't just tired that afternoon training. She was also carrying the anxiety of watching her window slide shut before it had even fully opened.

I tapped the screen off, slipped the phone back into my pocket, and stared at the dark countertop for a quiet second.

"Tough break," I murmured to the empty kitchen.

I pulled down two tall glasses from the cupboard, retrieved a wooden serving tray, and opened the snack pantry. 

True to form, the shelves were practically overflowing with boxed sweets, chocolate-filled pastries, and individual strawberry shortcakes. Our mother always overstocked whenever Yuri was due home for the weekend, knowing full well that a growing Umamusume burns through carbohydrates like an industrial incinerator. 

I loaded the tray with a generous plate of pastries, two sweating glasses of tea, and carried it carefully up the stairs.

The door to Yuri's room was cracked slightly open. 

I knocked twice with the edge of the tray before nudging it open with my foot. 

"Room service," I announced, stepping inside. 

The room was typical Yuri: walls plastered with sports posters, a corner with running shoes and resistance bands, and a low table beside her bed with cushions for both.

Yuri was sitting cross-legged on the cushion, leaning back against the wooden frame of her bed, her phone resting on her knee. Across from her, sitting in textbook seiza on a flat floor cushion, was Top Road. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her back was perfectly straight, and her posture was so stiff she looked like she was waiting for a job interview.

"Mom said she's already in the checkout line," Yuri muttered, tossing her phone onto the duvet. "She'll be here in twenty minutes with the folder."

"Then you can suffer in comfort. It's nice to chill sometimes," I said, setting the wooden tray down on the low table between them. "Cold barley tea, and there's cream puffs if you're hungry."

Top Road's eyes lit up slightly at the sight of the tray, her ears perking forward before she caught herself and dipped her head. 

"Ah, thank you so much. You really didn't have to go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble," I replied, dropping casually onto the floor at the open end of the table, resting one arm on my knee. "Hospitality is the only thing keeping our family's reputation intact whenever my sister brings people over."

Yuri reached out, grabbed a cream puff with zero hesitation, and bit into it while glaring at me over the powdered sugar. 

"You're still dodging the question," she said around a mouthful of pastry. "What were you doing at that shrine last week? You hate shrines. You hate stairs. You hate moving your body unless there's a ball involved."

"Yuuki got dumped," I said simply. "He decided the best way to mend a broken heart was to bribe a matchmaking goddess for a new love with showing his hard work in training."

Top Road covered her mouth with a delicate hand, her eyes curving in amusement. 

"The blond guy, right?" Yuri asked in between her bites. "The one that wore number 10 in your team? Didn't think a guy like him is a hopeless romantic. When I saw him in your matches I was sure he's an ikemen playboy type."

"Heh. An idiot playboy," I corrected her. "We also cleared the snow off the steps so he could appease the heavens, ran intervals until my body shut down, and that's when we met Top Road-san."

"Ah, right, almost forgot. Nice to meet you. I'm Yama Shimazu." I bowed politely.

"Nice to meet you, Shimazu-san. My name is Narita Top Road. Pokke-chan's roommate and classmate too." Top Road replied with her own small bow.

She then gave a small, self-conscious nod.

"I was actually very startled," she admitted, tracing the rim of the glass with her index finger. "When I saw someone lying completely flat on the grass by the torii gate, I genuinely thought we needed to call an ambulance. But then you sat up and gave us the stairs without any fuss."

"He was just looking for an excuse to quit," Yuri chimed in, chewing aggressively. "He has the stamina of a wet paper towel."

"I have excellent stamina," I countered. "I just allocate it efficiently. There's no value in running until you vomit on stone steps."

I scoffed lightly, watching Top Road caressing the rim of her glass as she flashed her smile at us siblings. 

Up close, in the warm, natural light of the bedroom, she looked far more put-together than she had on that freezing hillside. Her uniform was crisp, her hair caught the lamp light, and she wore a light touch of natural lip gloss that gave her a polished, composed air. 

Yet underneath all that deliberate poise, the tells were still there. 

There was a faint purple shadow beneath her sunset eyes, the kind that concealer can soften but never entirely hide. Her shoulders, though held straight in seiza, carried a subtle tremor of exhaustion, the unmistakable stiffness of an athlete whose muscles were recovering from desperate overwork. 

Was she pushing herself to her absolute limit?

If she didn't clear that exhaustion and the accompanying mental fog before her maiden race, there was a big chance she was going to lock up again.

But again, it's her and her trainer problems. I was sure they must've planned something to bounce back from this slump. It was better to leave it in the professional's hands.

I unknowingly kept looking at her when a fast shadow blocked the light out of me.

Thwack!

The impact was dead-center and remarkably solid. 

A dense memory-foam pillow slammed directly into my face, snapping my neck backward. 

I blinked through the sudden burst of fabric, lowering the pillow with an expression of profound irritation. 

Yuri was on her knees, leaning over the table with her arm still extended, her face flushed with indignant fury. 

"Stop staring holes into my guest, you absolute creep!" she hissed, pointing an accusing finger at my nose. "You've been glaring at her face for two straight minutes! Show some manners!"

I lowered the pillow to my lap and rubbed the bridge of my nose. 

"I wasn't staring at her," I said, my voice entirely level. "I was spacing out. My eyes just happened to be pointed in the direction of the person sitting across from me."

"Like hell you were! Your creepy face was doing that weird thing you usually do! You must be thinking something rude about her, right!? Or is it something indecent!?"

"Nothing indecent!" I quickly retorted, pointing the corner of the pillow back at her, "And you know how dangerous your arm strength is, right? You could have fractured my cheekbone even with just a pillow!"

"Hmph!" Yuri snorted loudly, dropping back onto her heels and crossing her arms with supreme contempt. "Just give up! Someone like you doesn't deserve a perfect girl like Top Road!"

I looked at the pillow in my hands. Then I looked at Yuri's hostile, puffed-up chest.

I took a slow, dramatic breath, dropped my shoulders, and clutched the pillow to my chest like a Victorian widow hearing bad news from the front lines.

"Ah," I sighed, casting my gaze sorrowfully toward the ceiling light. "How the mighty have fallen. To think that my own flesh and blood would turn against me with such ruthless violence."

Yuri's left eyelid gave a sharp, violent twitch. "Don't you start.."

"I carried your red backpack all the way home from the elementary school gate everyday," I lamented, my voice rich with tragic, theatrical grief. "When the neighborhood kids refused to play tag with you because you kept tackling them, who let himself be chased until he couldn't even walk?"

"Shut up, Yama!"

"It was me," I whispered to the plaster ceiling, shaking my head in mournful despair. "Onii-chan this, Onii-chan that... you used to cling to my sleeve when thunder rattled the windows. And now? A blunt trauma to the skull. Perhaps I am to blame. Perhaps I let you run too wild in the dirt, turning my sweet little sister into a violent delinquent."

"Stop talking! Shut your stupid mouth right now!" 

Yuri's face had gone bright crimson, reaching from the tips of her ears all the way down into her collar. She grabbed her second pillow, raising it high above her head like an executioner's axe, ready to commit twin homicide on the spot.

A sound cut through the chaos.

It started as a tiny, muffled snort. 

Then came a sharp intake of breath, quickly followed by a bright, clear, helpless burst of laughter.

Yuri's arm froze in mid-air. I let the dramatic misery drop from my face, turning my eyes back toward the other side of the table.

Top Road had both hands pressed firmly over her mouth, but it was completely useless. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, her golden ears were twitching in erratic, joyful circles, and the musical sound of her laughter filled the room, completely washing away the stiff, guarded atmosphere that had hung over her like a shroud.

What I saw there was just a teenage girl, giggling so hard a tiny tear was forming at the corner of her amber-violet eye.

I let a small smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. 

Yuri lowered her pillow, letting out a long, exhausted groan that sounded like a tire deflating. She slumped sideways against her bed frame, tearing open a pastry wrapper just to give her hands something else to do.

"You're the worst," Yuri muttered at the floor, though the venom was entirely gone from her tone. "I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual, dear sister," I replied smoothly. 

I turned back to Top Road and offered a small, apologetic tilt of my head. "I apologize for the circus. We usually try to hide this dynamic until at least the second visit."

Top Road shook her head rapidly, lowering her hands to reveal a wide, breathless smile that lit up her entire face. 

"No, please, don't apologize!" she said, wiping the corner of her eye with the back of her sleeve. "It's just... I've shared a room with Pokke-chan for almost three years now, and I've never seen her like this. Not even once."

"Like what?" Yuri grumbled through a mouthful of cream. "A normal person?"

"No," Top Road said softly, her sunset eyes curving with genuine warmth as she looked at my sister. "At the academy, you're always so fierce. You walk around with your chin up, daring anyone to challenge you, acting like you don't need anyone's help with anything. You never let your guard down." 

She turned back to me, the brightness in her expression entirely unguarded now. "Seeing her pout and throw pillows like an actual younger sister... it's really wonderful. It suits her."

I nodded solemnly, leaning back against the study desk with an air of profound wisdom. 

"See? My little sister is just so precious."

Yuri violently gagged, sticking her tongue out in disgust, pretending to vomit onto the floorboards. 

Top Road burst out laughing all over again, the sound ringing bright and clear against the walls. 

Watching her sit there, completely relaxed, her ears relaxed and the shadow beneath her eyes forgotten for a brief moment, I couldn't help the quiet thought that crossed my mind. 

That expression suited her the most. Not the tight, strained grimace of an athlete running on fumes, but this warm and radiance she radiated with just being herself. 

A sharp, rhythmic knock sounded on the bedroom door, breaking the spell.

The door swung open before anyone could answer, and our mother breezed into the room carrying a thick manila envelope and an aura of pure unstoppable momentum.

"There you go!" Riko Shimazu announced, holding the folder aloft like a trophy. "I forgot to take it out before I went for groceries! Tehee~"

She stopped, her sharp yellow eyes that had the exact same shade as Yuri's sweeping over the three of us sitting around the low table. 

Our mother was a former racer who had competed under the name Dance Charmer, half-American and possessing an endless reservoir of sunny, overwhelming energy. Even in an oversized knit sweater and denim jeans, her athletic frame and natural presence dominated whatever room she entered.

"Oh! Top Road-chan, hello!" Mom beamed, stepping forward and immediately taking control of the space. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting! Yuri told me you came all the way from the campus just to accompany her."

Top Road scrambled to her feet, bowing deeply with automatic politeness. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Dance Charmer! Please don't worry about it, it was no trouble at all."

"You're an angel," Mom sighed, pressing the envelope into Yuri's chest and ruffling her messy brown hair with a violent, affectionate rub. "I honestly don't know how you survive sharing four walls with this wild dog. If she starts chewing on the furniture, you have my full permission to lock her out on the balcony."

"Mom!" Yuri squawked, batting her hands away with a bright red face. "Stop talking like I'm a stray! We have to go, the train leaves in ten minutes!"

Five minutes later, we were all gathered in the front genkan. 

The cold winter air drifted in through the open doorway as Top Road stepped into her polished school shoes, slipping them on neatly while Yuri shoved the manila envelope into her backpack.

Mom stood on the lower step, hands clasped together, smiling warmly. 

"Thank you again for watching over her, Top Road-chan. Make sure she actually hands that to Tachibana-sensei before she goes to the dining hall."

"I will," Top Road promised, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Thank you so much for the tea and the sweets."

I leaned against the hallway doorframe, my hands tucked into the pockets of my tracksuit. 

"Try not to let her drag you into any street brawls on the walk back," I said casually. "Her center of gravity is terrible when she's mad, so if she starts swinging, just step to the left."

Yuri swung her heel backward, kicking the toe of my indoor slipper with a dull thud. "Shut up, Yama."

But my eyes were fixed on Top Road’s parting smile. Suddenly, the words I hadn't even planned to form jumbled up in my throat and escaped before I could stop them.

"Ah! Wait.." 

Top Road and Yuri paused on the stone porch, turning around to face us one last time. 

"From the first time we met, I could see how much drive and dedication you have," I blurted out, the cold air biting my cheeks. "And from that time alone, I'm sure you’ve put your absolute all into everything you do. You should be seriously proud of that.. So.. Wishing you nothing but well-deserved success ahead!"

The winter wind caught the loose strands of her golden hair, tossing them across her forehead. She blinked, her brows rising slightly above sunset-colored eyes that met mine directly. For a second, the whole world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, her face broke into that beautiful radiant smile. It carried a clear warmth, followed by a subtle nod of shared understanding that didn't need any words attached to it.

"Yeah! Thank you!" She beamed, her voice cutting through the chill. She took a step back into the snow, then looked up at me softly. "And... I'll see you again."

"Oh my.." 

I heard my mom gasp beside me, and that was the exact moment reality crashed back down. 

Did I just say too much? Who do I even think I am?

My face felt hot, but I forced my shoulders to straighten. Well, what was done was done. At least it wasn't shameful. There was nothing wrong with what I said.. right?

"Hah... Really?" Yuri mumbled softly under her breath, letting out a deep sigh that sounded part exasperated, part amused.

"Come on, Top Road, the wind is freezing!" Yuri grumbled, grabbing the sleeve of her friend's coat and hauling her toward the garden gate. "If we miss the 4:45, we're gonna have to sprint from the station!"

"Ah, Pokke-chan, don't pull!"

Their voices tumbled down the paved residential street, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of school bags and the sharp, playful banter of two roommates heading to their dorm.

I stayed where I was, leaning against the doorframe, watching their figures shrink and fading away. 

The street was quiet. Across the way, a streetlamp flickered to life with a low electrical buzz, casting a long, pale amber glow over the asphalt. 

I looked down at my own worn indoor slippers, then out at the empty sidewalk.

She was an elite athlete at Central Tracen Academy, a girl fighting for a spot on the grandest turf in the country. I was an ordinary middle schooler, content to coast through winter break, kill time under the kotatsu, and wait for spring practice to roll around.

We lived in completely different worlds, moving at completely different speeds.

Meeting her at the shrine had been an accident. Having her end up in my living room was nothing more than a bizarre coincidence, courtesy of my sister's inability to keep track of paperwork. 

Our paths had crossed twice, but that was probably the end of it. Once the spring season kicked off and the Classic Triple Crown began, I was sure she would be running on national television, and I would be chasing a ball around a pitch on the other side of town. Acquaintances through Yuri was the absolute extent of what made sense.

Still.

"'See you again,' huh?" 

I stepped back inside, pulled the heavy front door shut against the December chill, and listened to the deadbolt click into place.

I hoped she won her maiden race soon. 

I hoped that when she stepped onto the turf again, she would run without the weight of that first loss dragging on her heels. 

And more than anything, I hoped that whatever finish line she crossed next, it would bring back that bright and radiant smile again.