As the Tenno Sho drew near, the air took on the crisp, sharp edge of deepening autumn. Rampage was, as usual, buried under a mountain of trainer duties. While the addition of a sub-trainer, Sakahara, had lightened the load she'd been carrying alone, that newfound breathing room was quickly filled by the arrival of this year's URA Finals and Legend Race preparations. It was a relentless cycle, but one she'd resigned herself to seeing through.
"Still at it, I see. Are you actually delegating anything to Sakahara and Kamizuru?"
The voice belonged to Okino. Rampage didn't look up from her monitor. "I'm working hard enough to ensure I don't have time to sit around touching horse girls' legs like you do, if that's what you're asking."
"Hey! Are you ever going to let that go...?"
To an outsider, Rampage looked perpetually swamped. While she could hand off tasks related to Team Pleiades to her sub-trainers, her other titles—Chief Supervisor of Nemesis, Acting Trainer for Canopus, and her various executive roles for the Finals and Legend Races—meant her "reduced" workload was still a marathon for anyone else. Of course, Rampage's particular talent was simply powering through that level of chaos.
"Don't push yourself too hard, alright?" Okino leaned against a desk. "Besides, didn't you outsource the Finals and Legend Race management to the URA this year?"
"The bare minimum still finds its way to my desk," Rampage countered. "It's the first year we're running it this way. In many cases, it's just faster and easier for everyone if I handle certain things myself."
"I guess that makes sense... Wait, what's this?"
Okino's eyes snagged on the wastebasket beside Rampage's chair. Resting right on top was an envelope—clean, elegant, and seemingly unopened.
"Hey, looks like you dropped an unopened letter in the trash."
"Hm?"
"Here." Out of simple kindness, Okino fished it out and handed it over. Assuming she'd dropped it by mistake, Rampage took it, glanced at the sender, and let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. She promptly crushed the envelope in her fist and tossed it back into the bin.
"Oh. So it was junk mail? My bad."
"No, it was my mistake for not crushing it the first time," Rampage muttered. "I should have made it clear it was trash so it didn't get mixed up with the important files."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
It wasn't just Okino now; Sakahara and Kamizuru were looking over from the adjacent desks. If it had just been Okino, Rampage would have ignored him and kept working, but since her two reliable subordinates were curious, she felt she owed them an answer.
"It's an invitation to a middle school reunion."
"Ah... one of those," Okino nodded understandingly.
"A sensitive subject, then?" Sakahara noted.
"Did it come out of the blue?" Kamizuru added.
The three men immediately intuited why she'd reacted with such vitriol. Hana, however, seemed less convinced as she approached with a tray of coffee.
"I don't think an invitation warrants being crushed like that. Surely you had friends back in middle school?"
"Hardly. I was a total loner back then," Rampage said flatly. "I didn't have what you'd call a 'real friend' until I came to the Tracen Academy."
"That's actually surprising," Okino remarked. "You don't seem like the type who'd be a shut-in."
The truth was simpler and crueler. In middle school, Rampage had been an Uma Musume—physically superior by nature—yet she lived in abject poverty, spending her mornings and evenings sprinting through town on a newspaper delivery route to stay afloat. To her classmates, she wasn't an athlete; she was a target for derision. Back then, Mejiro Ryan was the only person she could truly call a friend.
"Besides," Rampage continued, her voice taking on a cynical edge, "now that 'Yours Truly' has become such a VIP, the tabloid vultures would swarm the place. Even if I went, those 'normal' people I went to school with wouldn't have a clue how to handle the media circus that follows me."
"Well... you've got a point there."
"I'm not sure you handle the media all that well either," Hana countered, setting a cup down. "You're always one sentence away from a PR disaster. You've got a lot of nerve talking about 'proper' handling."
"Regardless, I'm not going. I'm slammed until the end of the year anyway. I don't have time for nostalgia."
"True, the Legend Race is coming up," Okino conceded.
As they returned to their work, Rampage stared at the crushed invitation one last time. She wanted nothing to do with her past, but the past was beginning to force its way into her present. One of the students from her old middle school had actually cleared the qualifiers for this year's Finals.
("A joint party to support the junior who made it to the main draw,") she thought, recalling the text of the letter. (Do whatever you want. Just leave me out of it.)
Supporting a junior was fine, but she loathed being used as a prop. She was a competitor in the Legend Race, a trainer for Pleiades, and a founding executive of the Finals. If she showed up to "cheer" for a specific junior just because they shared a hometown, it would look like blatant favoritism. It would cast doubt on the integrity of the entire competition. She sighed, wondering how the organizers could be so dense.
"Seriously... inviting a Trainer to a reunion during peak season?" Rampage muttered loud enough for the office to hear. "If you want to invite me, check the calendar. And if you're just trying to use me for clout, try harder."
The surrounding staff could only offer wry smiles. Rampage had a habit of saying exactly what everyone else was too polite to voice. Her sheer audacity—speaking the cold, hard truth without a flicker of hesitation—was both terrifying and admirable.
The organizers likely thought they could flatter the most successful graduate in the school's history and reap the rewards. But Rampage wasn't someone like Mejiro Asama, Speed Symboli, or Trainer Minamisaka—people who might be moved by a sense of duty or polite society. She was far too practical for that.
"Even if you weren't a trainer, I don't think you're the type to just 'pop in' to a reunion," Hana noted.
"You got that right. Anyway, I've gotta head over to Canopus. Sakahara, Kamizuru—I'm leaving the rest of this to you."
"On it!"
"Have a safe trip."
With that, Rampage swept out of the staff room. The Tenno Sho was looming, and every second spent training was a second closer to victory. Between her duties for Rigil and her support for Canopus, her schedule was a battlefield.
"I honestly don't know how she does it," Hana sighed, watching the door close. "I'll have to treat her to a drink next time we're out."
"Agreed," Okino said. "I owe her one, too."
"If that's the case," Hana said, turning a sharp eye toward him, "how about you start by paying back some of the tab you owe me?"
"D-don't bring that up now, Hana-san! I'm making my monthly payments, aren't I?"
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