The morning sun shines on Normcore. She stirs in her sleep, slowly blinking her blue eyes open, the first rays of dawn casting the room in a warm glow.

  The Michinoku Kōgen Stakes - that was her next goal. The light at the end of a tunnel that had been nothing but darkness for so long. The only way out of the hell she’d lived was to prove to herself—and everyone—that she could surpass it all.

  In other words, hit the spotlight and get snatched up by Tracen.

  Riiiiing-

  Slam. Normcore nearly shatters the alarm clock and hops out of bed. Flying down the hall, she picks up two steamed buns by the cafeteria - still warm - and rushes down to the track.

  First step - limit testing. Stopwatch in hand, she bursts down the 2200 meter racetrack. No sounds of Kentaro screaming in her ears. No crowd. No opposition. She was running for herself now.

  She rushes out the gate with a fast jog, but something was wrong. Kaibara had noticed it yesterday, but even then it was considered a byproduct of exhaustion. Now that the body had been rested, however, it was crystal clear that it was no coincidence.

  Every step leaned towards the right. No exceptions - a limp had been drilled deep into the muscle memory, as if the body itself had been chained by the ankle.

  The memory hits.

  “Get up. It’s not that bad.” Kentaro’s oily voice grunts as Normcore holds her ankle on the floor. “It’s just a light sprain, walk it off.”

  Sharp pain. Sharp pain. Sharp pain. She had to run four hours with a sprained ankle - no wonder the limp carried over.

  Kaibara was going to focus on getting that out later. For now…

  The 1200 mark comes. It was time for the final spurt.

  Click.

  The speed comes easy - almost too easy - Kaibara wasn’t used to a body that answered with such grace. A flash of white rushes down the track. The 600 meter mark closes in, then the 400, wind whistling past her ears.

  Whoosh. Click.

  Twenty-two seconds for the final 400. In optimal racing conditions, she would be able to maintain that top speed for eighteen seconds, but only sixteen if she was unlucky.

  The blistering pace that exploded outward in the final 600 was something he saw only in a select few. It was raw and unpolished, sure, yet for a fleeting moment, she imprinted the silhouette of the Emperor in her own shadow.

  Unlike Rudolf, however, that acceleration was a streamlined endeavor. If she had to make any adjustments in her course, the results would be disastrous.

  Kaibara found the issue immediately. Her muscles were toned to a perfect degree, and that resulted in the inflexibility of her joints and ligaments. If things stayed as is, this would be the peak of her capabilities, no matter how much power she trained.

  If Normcore wanted to improve her explosiveness, she would have to change her stance to one with a lower center of gravity.

  …That second-rate fatass doesn’t even know his shit. He still thinks stamina’s the issue.

  Normcore grabs her ankles and lifts them up behind her. Pain shoots up her legs, a sensation Kaibara was more than used to.

  Her hamstrings were tight and unyielding, years of training having hardened them into iron. She grits her teeth, holding the position for twenty seconds, then switches to her other leg.

  Three days to the Michinoku Kogen. Not enough to fully improve her flexibility, so this would have to do for now.

  She swings by the grocery stores outside of campus, buying a good dozen bottles of supplements. Not the ideal way to fast track muscle development, but time was short. Kaibara could probably make something happen in three days easily, yet the problem was Kentaro… the schedule was his to handle.

  Regardless, it was time for Normcore to burn off all the extra calories she had racked up yesterday. She had an hour before classes actually started, so she went for a run.

  She whistles past people on the sidewalk, not too hot. Not too cold. She starts to pick up speed when-

  Beeeeeeep.

  She shoots to a halt, ears spiking upright. The sound of a police whistle.

  A motorcycle rolls up next to her. “Miss, you were going thirty-five in a school zone.”

  Blink, blink.

  “You can’t be going that fast. I’m writing you a ticket.”

  “Sir, I wasn’t operating a vehic-”

  “You horse girls think traffic laws don’t apply to you? You could’ve hit someone. No excuses.”

  ”I-I’m a student-”

  ”I’ll charge it to the school, then.”

  Yabe. She wasn’t supposed to be out yet. Kentaro was going to skin her alive.

  “A ticket? Norm, you know we’re not allowed to run outside school grounds!”

  Masaru hisses at her through hushed breaths. Kentaro was busy scarfing down his seventh fried donut across the table, dripping grease over his shirt.

  “I know, I know, I just- what do I do now?” Her ears twitch in a panic. “Fatty’s gonna find out and he’s gonna-”

  A dozen different memories flash into her mind. She shudders.

  “It’s okay, Norm. I’ve got a plan. Listen.”

  She leans over.

  “The post comes at noon, right? That’s when we’re usually practicing. You distract him when the mailman arrives. Fall down. Pretend to have an injury. Give him a donut, whatever.”

  Normcore nods.

  “When he’s distracted, I’ll sneak out, go through his mail, and forge his signature on the ticket. Then I’ll send it right back. No one will be the wiser.”

  “Sounds risky.” She whispers back.

  “We don’t have a ch-”

  “What are you two whispering about, huh?”

  Kentaro’s booming voice causes them both to jump. Masaru jolts like she touched a live wire, tail puffing out like a brush. Normcore falls over in her chair, the catastrophic crash in tow causing heads to turn.

  “Ee-eeeep! Nothing!”

  His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything. Masaru’s ears press flat to her head, her entire body quivering in fear.

  “Finish your food and get moving. We ain’t got all day.”

  Kentaro huffs, pushing himself out of his seat and lumbering out the door.

  “Ow…” Normcore slowly picks herself off the floor. Her head stung like hell. After a few hushed whispers and confused glances tossed her way, the others around the cafeteria turn back to their meals as if nothing had happened.

  Masaru cranks her head and peeks at the doorway. She holds her neck out for a good twenty seconds before sitting back down.

  “You think he’s onto us?”

  “He’s definitely getting suspicious. But I- Oi!”

  A passerby hits Normcore on the elbow, spilling rice porridge all over her lap.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “-what the hell?”

  She turns indignantly only to be met with a face full of contempt. Scrunched nose, narrowed eyes, and a pair of lips that curled like a snake.

  “Got a problem, white-coat?”

  Masaru yanks her back down as Normcore begins to stand. “N-No! We’re all good here!” She squeaks.

  “Good.” The girl walks off, her friends snickering, her curly black hair bouncing with each step. “Be a shame if something happened to your other arm.”

  “What are you doing, Norm?” Masaru whines, her ears plastered to the side of her head. “Don’t pick a fight with Oscar…”

  Normcore grimaces, slowly wiping wet rice off her tracksuit. Masaru presses a few sheets of paper into her hands.

  “…Who?”

  “Katsura Oscar.”

  Usually, memories and names came and went with faces. Not a single one popped up for Katsura. She stares back blankly.

  “You… you don’t remember?”

  Masaru stares at Normcore like she’s grown a second head. Normcore’s heart tightens. Did she blow it?

  Luckily, Masaru doesn’t press.

  “Seriously, Norm, does anything go on in that head of yours? How’d you manage to pass the entrance exam? Do you even know how to write your name?”

  She reaches out and flicks her in the forehead.

  “Gh-”

  “Maiden race. Don’t you remember?”

  That lit a spark. She vaguely remembers the turf, the shuttles clicking close, the beeep-

  “Oh.”

  Gates open. Bodies rush onto the dirt, Normcore surging ahead. Something flickers in her peripheral before a figure veers violently off course and slams into her.

  Pain. Dust. Coughing.

  A very, very fucked up arm. She instinctively twists her left arm around, looking for scars. Nothing- but that was good enough to convince Masaru that she was the real deal

  “You spent six weeks in the infirmary and you don’t remember her face?”

  Masaru lets out a deep sigh, picking up her tray and turning towards the unholy mountain of dishes that were now growing. Normcore spots a bandaid on the outside of her pointer finger.

  “You’ve been acting weird lately. Headbutting glass doors finally catching up with you?”

  Normcore’s ears twitch. Her hand goes to her forehead immediately. Those she did remember, Half a dozen thunks accompanied by a stinging pain.

  “Let’s get going. Kentaro’s going to make us run laps if we’re late.” Masaru quickly scuttles off.

  “Looks like there’s already someone on the tracks.” Normcore points ahead as the two arrive.

  “That’s not right, we booked this two days ago.” Masaru blinks. “Hold on, I’ll get Kentaro.”

  Normcore makes her way to the fence.

  “Excuse me, but-”

  “Huh? What the hell do you want?” A loud, demeaning voice comes from the starting line. Katsura flings open the shuttle doors and stomps over, her ribbon-like hair bouncing with each step.

  “Get lost, whitecoat.”

  “You’re in our spot, miss bonsai-tree. I ain’t want to see your face either.”

  A flicker of annoyance flashes across Katsura’s face. For a second, she looks like she’s about to yell- but instead of screaming at Normcore, she turns and bellows at one of her teammates instead.

  “Oi! Pork buns! Didja double book the training ground?!”

  A red-haired girl with white strands and glasses scuttle over. “I-It was clear when I checked in this morning-!” She squeaks.

  “Bull fucking shit! We’ve got Miss Whitecoat over here saying it ain’t, so figure it out!”

  She turns back to Normcore, her disgusted gaze enough to burn a hole straight through her chest. She raises a finger at her.

  “If I find out you’re trying to dupe me for some extra training, I am going to break your spine and you will never run again.”

  Normcore was pretty sure that was illegal, but she bites her tongue anyway.

  “This can be easily solved if we just train together.”

  The air freezes to a standstill. Several girls nearby freeze and turn towards Normcore in horror as if she had just declared war.

  “Huh?” A vein bulges on Katsura Oscar’s forehead. Her pupils shrink so much they nearly disappear.

  “Listen here, you little shit.” She yanks Normcore forward by the collar, breath hot and sharp against her cheek. “Don’t think for a second you belong on the same track as someone like me. You’re lucky I even bothered noticing some roadside pebble like you, so don’t start barking up the wrong tree thinking you’re tough shi-”

  “That’s enough, Katsura.”

  A voice comes from behind. A sharp-eyed trainer in a polo, wearing a beret looking cap- old, stained, painted over with ink- marched over with a clipboard in hand. He held himself with the air of a drill sergeant, yet his voice suggested that he was quite young.

  “Release her. This is beneath you.”

  Katsura freezes. She grits her teeth for a second before pushing Normcore away.

  “Tch.”

  “Your time would be better off preparing yourself for the Saudi Arabia Royal Cup. Not picking meaningless fights with the other pupils.”

  The Saudi Royal Cup?

  Normcore’s ears twitch. A G3 National-level race. Regional runners weren’t even allowed to register. That meant Katsura was either absurdly lucky - or a big fish in a puddle.

  “I apologize, trainer.” Katsura turns and speaks to her trainer with surprising calm. “I could not stomach the implication that this… filth and I exist on equal footing.”

  “Save it for the race, Katsura.” He simply adjusts his hat. “If you keep going around acting like this, Tracen will revoke your admission.”

  “As I said, I have no intentions of attending.” She walks past him with her chest held out. “I’m staying here.”

  She said it like it was obvious — like rejecting Tracen, something unheard of in the industry, was as normal as skipping lunch. Her trainer’s expression remained unreadable beneath his hat.

  “Hey, hey. What’s going on here?”

  The sound of lumbering footsteps echo down the hill with short, gasping breaths. Kentaro makes his way to the racetrack, huffing and puffing and already covered in sweat.

  “Shinji. Tell your students to get off the track.”

  “Yes. It appears one of my trainees double booked it this morning.” Goutarou lets out a sigh. “My apologies. Let’s get going, everyone. We’re doing core training instead.”

  A collective groan rises from the group, and Katsura snaps.

  “Quit your whining! You wanna be a racer, you no good sandbags? You ain’t going nowhere if all yer gonna do is complain, dammit!”

  “Norm…” Masaru comes up. “What did you do? She looks really pissed off.”

  “I asked her if she wanted to train together.” Normcore turns with a blank expression on her face, her tail slowly swinging.

  “Eh? You what?” Masaru flinches. She looks like she wants to say something, but is interrupted by Kentaro slamming his cane on the floor.

  “Quit the chit-chat and start running. We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “Time. Twenty and a half! You’re crushing it, Norm!” Masaru waves the stopwatch in the air. Her eyes glisten brightly.

  “Huff… Huff…” Normcore slowly comes to a halt, placing her hands on her knees. Sweat glistens off her entire body, rolling down her arms in glistening droplets. She felt as if her tail was drenched, and the blazing sun overhead didn’t help in the slightest.

  “Let’s take a break. You’re pretty winded.” Masaru says, peeking over at Kentaro, who was busy yawning under the shack and watching races on his tablet.

  “He really doesn’t care, does he?” Normcore takes a bottle of water from Masaru and uncorks it, downing a third of it in one go. “I might as well train myself at this point.”

  “Yeah, right.” Masaru lets out a soft giggle. “He goes ballistic if we veer off course.”

  A small white truck turns onto the path, kicking up dust on the gravel road and coming to a halt near the front gate.

  “Say, isn’t that the mail truck?”

  “It is!” Masaru’s ears shoot upright. “Okay. Distract Kentaro. I’ll go deal with the ticket.” She presses the stopwatch into her hands and runs off.

  Normcore gulps. Kentaro looked pretty occupied in race-watching. Maybe they didn’t need to distract him after all.

  “Yes! Yes! Go! Go!” He pumps his fist in the air, spit flying out of his fat mouth as he leaned forward in his seat, his oversized beer belly jiggling in a comedic fashion- probably the most exercise he’s ever had in a week. “Almost! Almost!”

  Then, almost on cue, his expression goes from ecstatic joy to one of absolute terror. He grasps his head in frustration, screaming into the air.

  “No! No! No! Don’t you dare! No!”

  He rips his sweat-stained shirt up, biting down on it hard, veins bulging in his head as his bloodshot eyes fixate on the screen.

  “I’ve got fifty thousand yen riding on this! Don’t you dare lose!”

  Of course he was betting on the races. Normcore stopped for a second to ponder what would happen if he was to lose- perhaps rage, work up a sweat, then storm back into his office in a storm of rage… where he’d catch Masaru red handed. She couldn’t allow that to happen. By the looks of his reaction, his bet wasn’t going too well.

  “No! No! She’s in third! Run, damn you!”

  His fist drives into the bench, splintering the wood with a crack. His face goes bright red, eyes bulging out like they might pop, teeth clenched so hard she could audibly hear them grind against one another.

  Regardless, she had a plan to keep him busy. She reaches down and pulls out a second pair of sneakers from behind a tree, carefully replacing them with the first- then, with a pop, she removes one of the already loose horseshoes from the bottom. She walks up to the shack, just enough to hear the blaring of the announcers, but not enough to make out what they say.

  “Trainer-” She begins.

  “Shut up! I’m busy!” Kentaro snaps back, letting out a screech. His shirt was starting to tear between his slightly yellowed teeth. His breaths come in rapid, jagged gasps, each one more desperate than the last. From the bottom of his throat comes a sharp, frustrated growl, more animal than human.

  She stands there awkwardly, horseshoe in one hand, sneaker in the other. Kentaro’s breathing quickens, his eyes beginning to strain and water in the intense gaze he was now fixating on the screen, before-

  “ARGH! NO!”

  His shirt tears with a violent rip- the fabric stood no chance. Kentaro practically throws his tablet across the grass, leaning so far back his head slams into the wood. A guttural screech erupts from his vocal cords, loud enough to make Normcore’s ears flatten. His hands fly to his head, threatening to pull out what little hair remained, his face so red she thought he was going to explode like some video game character. He slowly cranks his head around like a machine, his fury now directed at the one and only living being in the vicinity.

  For a split second, Normcore contemplated telling him about the ticket instead. How she envied Masaru, who was probably in his air-conditioned office now.

  “What do you want?!”

  She was frozen on the spot- every inch of her body was screaming in terror. Her mouth opens and closes twice, yet no sounds come out. She forces herself to croak out a line she had rehearsed a dozen times-

  “My horseshoe fell off.”

  His eyes dart to her, then the sneakers, then back to her. For a second, his face went from red, then to purple, her nonchalance probably fueling his rage. His teeth grind against one another again, and for a second, he looked like he might scream at her.

  Instead, he reaches into his bag, his fingers trembling with frustration as he rips open the bag of nails. The nails scatter everywhere, bouncing across the grass in a wild, clattering mess, only to send him into a new frenzy of rage.

  “AAAAAAAAAA! Do it yourself, you useless-!”

  The resulting roar was enough to turn heads from across the school grounds. Several students peek their heads out of the classroom, wondering just what the hell was going on outside. For a second, Normcore thought the man’s hair was going to unlock Super Saiyan.

  “Can’t, trainer. I need someone to hold the shoe or the nail will go in crooked.”

  Kentaro looks around with a screech, eyes frantically searching for someone else to do the task. Unfortunately, he finds none, doubling his anger in the process and causing his face to turn purple.

  “Where’s Masaru?!”

  “Infirmary. She got heatstroke.”

  “Why that little…” He stands with a huff. For a second, she flinches and backs up- wondering if he was going to hit her- but he only bends down and picks up the nails, ripping out chunks of grass in the process. “Fine. Fine! You’re running extra laps for this!”