A week later, the crisp northern air of Sapporo greeted them as Akuma and Adal leaned against the white railing overlooking the racetrack. The faint scent of turf and winter wind carried across the stands, mixing with the murmurs of the crowd gathering for the Junior Maiden race.
A long, slow yawn escaped Akuma's lips. He didn't bother to hide it.
"You'll get wrinkles if you keep that up, Akuma-san," McQueen's voice chimed from his left, her tone both lightly scolding and faintly amused. She held out a steaming paper cup, its aroma rich and inviting. "Here. Coffee."
He took it with a small nod. "Thanks." And without missing a beat, he fished into his coat pocket and produced a small, foil-wrapped candy carrot.
McQueen's ears perked instantly. She accepted it with a soft, delighted gasp and popped it into her mouth, her tail flicking in satisfaction. "You really do carry these everywhere…" she murmured between small bites.
"Emergency morale boosters," he replied simply, sipping his coffee.
She chewed for another moment before glancing at him sidelong. "You don't seem particularly… engaged in the race. Don't you want to see if there's anyone worth recruiting?"
Akuma shrugged, his gaze fixed on the empty straight ahead. "Doesn't matter if I want them. Any trainee I'd seriously be interested in? They'd get poached by the bigger academies before I even got within ten meters. The moment they show real potential, Tracen or Rigil would wave their banners and—" He flicked his fingers in the air, "—gone. So I'm just here to pick off crumbs."
The phrasing made McQueen's ears twitch back ever so slightly. Her expression smoothed quickly, but a faint twinge of annoyance lingered. She understood what he meant… even if she didn't like hearing him call any potential student a "crumb." With a small sigh, she chose to let it slide and instead unwrapped another candy carrot for herself.
Beside them, Adal leaned on the railing with one hand and giggled softly into his gloved fingers. "My, the two of you are in perfect sync — from sipping to chewing. It's almost like a waltz."
McQueen flushed faintly while Akuma ignored him entirely.
The announcer's voice suddenly boomed over the speakers, jolting the energy of the crowd.
"And they're off in the Junior Maiden here at Sapporo! A clean break from all eight competitors — but look at that acceleration out front!"
On the track, a flash of bright orange hair streaked ahead of the pack, her stride fluid and unbroken, as if the air bent to her will.
"Silence Suzuka takes the lead immediately, opening a clear gap!"
Trailing just behind her, two more Umas pushed forward — one with vivid crimson hair tied in a high ponytail, her fierce gaze locked dead ahead, and another with short, wild black hair and a smirk that seemed born for the thrill of competition.
"In second place we've got Daiwa Scarlet — and right on her flank, Vodka! The two are neck and neck, refusing to give an inch!"
The crowd roared, some cheering for the poised elegance of Scarlet, others for Vodka's raw, untamed aggression.
Adal's eyes lit up as he watched them jostle for position, his lips curling into a delighted smile. "Ah… magnificent. A rivalry so vivid you can feel the sparks. Elegant, yet primal. They are not merely racing… they are dueling."
His voice carried a rare sharpness now, a hunter's intrigue hidden beneath the poetic flourish.
Akuma took another slow sip of his coffee. "I take it you've found someone you like."
Adal didn't answer immediately, his green eyes following Scarlet and Vodka as they tore down the track, matching each other stride for stride. "Two, actually. And I believe they might just be worth the trouble…"
The thundering of hooves was almost deafening now. The crowd's cheers rose in waves, each lap building into something sharper, wilder, as if the very air was straining to keep pace with the race unfolding below.
Silence Suzuka was in her own world — no, in her own universe. Her orange hair whipped behind her in the wind, her every stride long, precise, and impossibly smooth. She wasn't just fast; she was untouchable, gliding down the turf as though she had been born from the wind itself.
"And Suzuka is flying down the stretch!" the announcer's voice cracked with excitement. "She's opened a lead of nearly five lengths — but it's chaos behind her! Scarlet and Vodka still at each other's throats, neither giving an inch!"
Daiwa Scarlet's face was all fire — brows furrowed, jaw tight, the perfect picture of calculated aggression. Every step was a demand to seize second place and nothing less.
Vodka, however, carried no such rigid formality. Her smirk was sharp and dangerous, eyes glinting with the thrill of the chase. She ran like someone who would rather burn out entirely than slow down, every muscle screaming forward.
"Scarlet! Vodka! They're neck and neck into the final hundred meters!"
The tension was a living thing. Scarlet's elegant, perfect form — Vodka's relentless, reckless push — the two clashed in rhythm, neither faltering. And still, Suzuka flew far ahead, utterly in control, the finish line rapidly approaching.
Beside him, Adal leaned forward over the railing, lips curling in fascination. "Exquisite…" he breathed, as though savoring the finest glass of wine.
Akuma's sigh was long and quiet. He stepped back from the railing, brushing dust from his coat. "Might as well try," he murmured to himself, as if already resigned to the outcome.
Adal caught the words but said nothing, falling into step beside him. Together, they moved toward the finish area, their footsteps light against the electric hum of the crowd's anticipation.
When Suzuka crossed the line, she did so with almost effortless grace, her lead completely unchallenged. Scarlet and Vodka burst across together, so close the announcer's voice wavered in calling it. The three slowed, panting and glistening with sweat, before they were quickly surrounded by a knot of reporters, photographers, and trainers from every direction.
Akuma didn't even try to cut through the crowd. He simply stood a few paces back, arms crossed, watching. His coffee was long gone, but the quiet weight in his eyes said he wasn't here for spectacle.
McQueen caught the sight and shot him a flat stare, her tail flicking sharply behind her. "You are going to say something, right?" she asked, her voice carrying just enough edge to make her point.
He just shrugged faintly. "They're not mine yet."
But before she could scold him further, movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention.
Adal — tall, immaculate despite the dust of the track — had stepped forward into the chaos like he owned it. His voice carried with perfect clarity over the din:
"Mademoiselles Scarlet, Vodka!" He gave a low, sweeping bow, one hand over his chest. "A race so fierce it could make the sun itself hesitate to rise again — tell me, do you two intend to run only as rivals, or will you let me make you legends?"
Scarlet blinked at him in surprise, sweat dripping from her brow. Vodka tilted her head, smirk curling wider.
Somewhere behind them, Akuma groaned into his hand. "For the love of…"
McQueen pressed her fingers to her lips to smother the giggle threatening to escape, her ears twitching in amusement. "Well… at least he's direct," she whispered.
Beside her, Rice Shower's eyes sparkled like she was watching a fairy tale unfold, clutching the straps of her small bag. "He's so cool…" she breathed.
Adal, of course, looked completely in his element — poised between charm and challenge, a predator dressed as a gentleman, and very clearly intending to walk away from this race with more than just compliments for the runners.