That envelope arrived one windless morning as the sun was setting.
Hayate Kurogane (黒金 疾風) recognized it instantly, knowing full well what it was. The Tracen Academy seal was unmistakable. Even before reading the sender's name, he knew. Thick paper, impeccable typography, nothing improvised, nothing personal.
He held it for a few seconds longer than necessary because he felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest at any moment, so he took a few breaths to calm down.
He wasn't nervous, or at least, he thought so.
He had been training since before dawn, as he had every day since he saw his star raise his arm on television after winning his last race. Short sprints in a straight line, breath control, strides measured with almost obsessive precision, he did his best to be in optimal condition, convinced that this would increase his chances of success.
His body responded well, as it always did. His weight remained more or less stable, even though he sometimes ate two... or three... dozen more meals than recommended.
That's why, deep down, he already knew the answer.
He opened the envelope carefully, as if the paper might tear if he hurried.
"After a thorough review of the admissions process, we regret to inform you that your application to Tracen Academy has not been accepted."
Nothing else.
There were no personal signatures.
There were no comments.
There were no reasons.
Just one additional line, printed with the same mechanical coldness as the previous text:
"We wish you success in your future endeavors."
Hayate read the letter twice, then a third time, and finally a fourth time.
He felt no anger, nor did he feel immediate sadness.
Just... a slow feeling of understanding.
"I see," he muttered.
He folded the paper carefully and put it back in the envelope.
He didn't crumple or tear it.
There was nothing to argue about.
Tracen Academy accepted the best Umamusume in the country.
Girls destined to shine on official tracks, with trainers, stadiums, and audiences.
He wasn't that.
He wasn't an Umamusume.
He was an Umashonen.
He had heard stories, rumors, half-discussions whenever people noticed the ears on top of his head and the tail on his lower back, that the system wasn't ready, that there were no clear precedents, that, in the end, it was easier to say no than to decide how.
If they didn't accept him, it was because he wasn't supposed to be there.
That was the logical conclusion he came to, and also the only one he needed at that moment.
He put the envelope at the bottom of his training bag, under the bandages, water, and change of clothes he had for today, and then left without bothering to change out of his training clothes.
Later that same day, he passed by a secondary track. It wasn't official, it didn't have stands, and it certainly wasn't as big as a real one. It was probably only about 400 meters at most, maybe a little more.
Just a long straight stretch and a couple of curves worn down by continuous use by both people and umamusumes who sometimes used it.
His eyes scanned the area, noticing how particularly calm it was today, although he noticed that there were two umamusumes training there.
He didn't know them, but he recognized their posture, cadence, breathing rhythm, the way they stretched and prepared to run. They were good, perhaps not elite, but they took their training seriously, except for apparently arguing about something, but he didn't think much of it.
He didn't know them, but he recognized their posture, cadence, breathing rhythm, the way they stretched and prepared to run. They were good, maybe not elite, but they took their training seriously, except for apparently arguing about something.
Without thinking too much about it, perhaps on impulse or desire, he adjusted his position and decided to join them too. After all, he didn't have much to lose at this point. He also thought that running would help him calm down from what had happened.
"Hey, sorry to bother you, but could I train here too?" said Hayate.
"Oh? Sure, we were just finishing our last lap anyway," said the first one, ignoring the second one who reproached her. She had dark brown hair and was wearing a typical training outfit. Her friend, with reddish hair and similar clothes, turned her head in Hayate's direction when she heard him while finishing her stretches. The difference between the two was... slight noticeable.
"Thanks, but I don't plan on staying long, just stretching my legs" Hayate replied with a slight bow as he set his suitcase down on the side of the track and adjusted his horseshoe shoes.
"Okay, one, two, three!" At the signal from one of them, the three took off at explosive speed, passing the first 50 meters of the track, each beginning to take the position they were most familiar with.
Hayate and the redhead strove to stay ahead while the brown-haired girl stayed behind, conserving her energy. It wasn't a formal competition, but none of the three were willing to give up ground. Their gallop made the stones on the ground shake slightly as they sped by, and a slight smile formed on the lips of all three as they felt the wind against their faces.
The redhead, believing she had left the boy behind, glanced over her shoulder, but was slightly surprised to see him following close behind, struggling to keep up.
«Just stretch your legs, he said? Yeah, right», thought the redhead as they quickly reached the straight after the fourth curve, given the small size of the track.
Stomping hard, she accelerated forcefully. She heard a shout behind her that she recognized as her friend, surely trying to catch up with her, and from the footsteps she could hear approaching, she was probably right. Even so, there was a third pair of footsteps that were not going away.
«Is this guy really just running to stretch his legs?» That was what both of them were thinking as they watched the boy keep pace with them. Looking back at where the three of them had started, they gave it their all in a final sprint.
.
.
No. 1 - ??? (Redhead) [56.8s]
No. 2 - Hayate Kurogane [1/2 heads]
No. 3 - ??? (Brown hair) [Nose]
The three slowed down as they crossed the finish line, panting slightly as they caught their breath. Even so, one of them glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they stopped, then the other, not with suspicion, but with some curiosity.
"Hey, what school are you from? You don't look like someone who just runs for fun," said one of them as she caught her breath, stopping for a moment to ask him.
Hayate slowed down to a stop as he breathed calmly, as if he hadn't done anything special so far other than running as he always does, and although it was short, it helped him clear his mind a little from the news he had received recently.
"I don't go to any," he replied calmly.
"Oh?" The other tilted her head. "Then why do you run like that? Are you planning to join one?"
He took a second to answer.
"I tried to get into Tracen. I got the letter today," he said finally. "I wasn't accepted."
The two fell silent for a moment when they heard him, not because they doubted him, as they knew that even though the program had a high acceptance rate, there were still those who failed to get in due to poor performance or a bad track record. Both had been accepted recently and didn't want to rub it in the face of someone who hadn't. They knew that sometimes it could be hard for some people, but seeing him run alongside them while they trained, they noticed how well he handled various concepts, so they found it strange that someone like him was not accepted.
"I see... I'm sorry about that," said one of them, sounding not entirely convinced but accepting his word.
"Don't be too discouraged, though. You can still retake the exam next year," said the other, trying to cheer him up and give him some hope.
"I appreciate your words, but I'll have to think about it again." Hayate bowed his head in farewell, picked up his bag, and left. He didn't hear what they said after that or how they looked at him strangely as he walked away.
He didn't care at that moment.
Tracen had made its decision, and he had accepted it.
As he walked, the envelope seemed to weigh heavier in his bag beneath all his other things.
Unbeknownst to him, in some digital file at Tracen Academy, on the list of all the names of those who had tried to enroll that year, his appeared twice in a row.
One entry approved, and another rejected.
The system, in its infinite wisdom, had resolved the conflict in the simplest way possible:
Eliminate both.
But Hayate Kurogane didn't know that.
And so, without fanfare or ceremony, the path that was supposed to lead him to the main track
veered off to another place, one he knew very well and where he spent most of his time when he wasn't training.
A place without rules, without stands, without official cards, it was his own home waiting for him as if it were just another day.