Chapter Text
My name is Kurogane Daishi, and I’m a trainer at Tracen Academy.
…Or at least, that was my title.
“Disbanded?!”
The word tore itself out of my throat before I could stop it. My heart plummeted like it had just missed a step, and all I could do was stare at Tazuna. Her eyes darted away from mine—like she didn’t have the courage to finish what she’d started.
“B-but… why? What happened to my team?!”
She hesitated, just long enough for the silence to grow heavy between us.
“They all joined different teams, citing different reasons…” she began quietly. Then, her voice faltered, turning small—apologetic. “But the unanimous statement was that your training wasn’t enough.”
Her words cut deeper than I expected. I felt cold. Empty. Like something inside me had just slipped out of reach.
“I’m sorry, Daishi-san… we can find more work for you, but for now, Team Apotos is disbanded.”
And then she was gone.
The door shut with a muted click that sounded louder than it should have. I just stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, before my legs gave out beneath me. My knees hit the floor, and the sound echoed through the office like a hollow confession.
All that work… all those nights planning, training, reviewing every mistake and strategy until I could barely keep my eyes open. Everything I gave to help them grow—gone. Abandoned. Just like that.
Because one of them won a G1, and suddenly they didn’t need me anymore.
I felt broken.
I’d lived around Uma Musume my whole life. My mother was the legendary Silent Prayer, a storied racer, and Double Crown winner from America—a name spoken with reverence. I tried to learn everything I could from her, from my father, from every shadow they cast. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
I forced myself up, though my body felt weightless, disconnected. I started walking. I didn’t care where.
The corridors were bright and alive, filled with the laughter and voices of Uma girls heading to practice or chatting with friends. I barely saw their faces. They didn’t understand. None of them did. The stress, the sleepless nights, the silent pressure of making others shine while you fade behind them—it was suffocating.
All they did was eat and run.
My feet kept moving on their own until I found myself outside, standing on a narrow ledge overlooking the academy’s entrance. Below, the statue of the Three Goddesses gleamed faintly in the afternoon light.
Maybe it really was me.
I was human—a man among the daughters of speed and grace. What did I know about them? About the world they ran in? The truth settled like lead in my chest.
Had I wasted my life chasing the shadows of my mother’s legacy? Did it ever matter if I could just be discarded so easily?
I turned to leave, but my foot slipped on the damp surface.
For one terrible second, gravity clutched me like an old friend, and I fell. The air rushed out of my lungs as the ground came up fast. Then—impact.
A dull, sickening crunch.
Pain exploded, then faded into numbness. My vision blurred, the edges darkening until all I could see were the unmoving faces of the Three Goddesses above me.
My arm trembled as I reached out toward them.
“If… you are listening… Three Goddesses…” My voice cracked, every word trembling. “Where did I go wrong? Why… don’t I understand? Please… I need to understand…”
As my consciousness faded, a light appeared—soft, blinding, almost tender. It swallowed the pain, the fear, and finally, the dark took me.
Darkness.
It wasn’t new to me. I’d lived with it for as long as I could remember. The shadow cast by my mother was too deep to ever escape. Everyone knew her—but not her son. Not Daishi.
But it wasn’t fair to blame her.
She did what she loved. She ran with purpose and pride, and she raised me with that same spirit. Gentle hands, warm eyes, the patience of someone who knew the weight of effort. I could still see her smile whenever I accomplished something on my own. That smile—bright and steady—told me she was proud that I was walking my own path. I wasn’t the boy crying because he couldn’t run as fast as his mother anymore. I was chasing my own dream.
I couldn’t blame her for my failure.
The thought sank into the dark like a stone into deep water.
Then, faintly, came voices.
At first, they were muffled, shapeless—whispers filtered through layers of distance. Then, slowly, they grew clearer. Familiar tones, soft but weighted with tension.
Tazuna… Director Akikawa… Symboli Rudolf.
Rudolf’s voice reached me first—low, refined, the kind of voice that could command silence with a word. Yet now, it trembled slightly with restrained disbelief. “How could this even happen?”
“This is highly unprecedented,” Akikawa replied, her voice tight with worry. I heard the snap of her folding fan as she opened it, then the soft clack as it closed again. “Daishi was always cheerful and kind to everyone. What could drive him to jump?”
Tazuna’s voice quivered. “His team abandoned him. I… I told him yesterday that they’d moved to different teams. If I’d known it would affect him this badly… I would have stayed.”
The sound of slow pacing followed—soft steps, the faint rustle of her coat brushing against her legs.
Akikawa sighed, the fan snapping shut. “It’s not your fault, Tazuna. You were just doing your job. But it’s strange, isn’t it? That his team would disband completely, especially after such a major victory.”
Then came Rudolf again, her tone calm but clipped with thought. I could almost picture her, standing with arms folded, her cleats clicking lightly against the floor. “I’ll contact the rest of the council to investigate. It happened too suddenly. And according to Tazuna, they claimed his training wasn’t enough? Tazuna, do you still have his regimen?”
“I do,” she answered softly.
Papers shifted—smooth, deliberate.
A low exhale from Rudolf. “This is… impressive. His notes are meticulous. Each plan individualized. Every weakness identified. This isn’t beginner’s work. His understanding is as if he grew up with an Uma… a champion-level one.”
Tazuna hesitated before answering, her voice small. “Well… his mother is Silent Prayer.”
The air in the room froze. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then something fell—a pen or clipboard hitting the floor with a dull clatter.
Akikawa’s fan snapped open sharply. “You mean to tell me that Daishi-kun is the son of the Black Beast? Outrageous!”
Rudolf’s tone wavered, and for the first time, I heard the edge of disbelief give way to concern. “Silent Prayer was unmatched on the dirt track—her explosive power and stamina were legendary. Six G1 titles, all earned through sheer grit. And her son… her son just fell from the academy roof?”
Akikawa sighed again, the rhythm of her fan slower now. “That’s not our only problem. We don’t even know how this happened.”
Tazuna spoke up quietly. “I’ve heard rumors. Some students say they feel… drawn to the statue of the Three Goddesses. Like something calls to them. When they go there, they come back stronger—like they’ve been blessed.”
Rudolf’s voice lowered, soft but steady. “It’s happened to me too. I’ve always thought it was the Goddesses’ blessing, guiding us to run. But what happened to Daishi…”
Akikawa’s fan clicked shut, firm and final. “All we can do is wait until he wakes. Then we’ll know what truly occurred. It’s not every day a grown man turns into an Uma.”
Her words echoed, hanging in the space between them.
I could hear the subtle shift of their movements—the scrape of a chair, the light clack of cleats against the tiled floor, the faint, weary sighs as they lingered over the unknown.
And through that symphony of sound, something inside me stirred.
It started as a pulse, deep and heavy, thrumming through my chest. Then it grew louder—rhythmic, almost alien. My body felt… strange. Every sound sharpened, every whisper crystal clear. I could hear the ruffling of their clothes, the quick flutter of Tazuna’s breath, even the tiny click of Rudolf’s hoof as she shifted her stance.
The darkness pressed close, trembling with life.
What did they mean… an Uma?
The thought formed, but no sound came from my lips. Only the heavy silence of a world holding its breath.
When I finally awoke, the first thing I felt was light.
It pierced through my eyelids, sharp and merciless, and it took everything I had to raise an arm and block it out. The warmth of the sun burned against my skin — far too real for a dream.
I didn’t know how long it had been since I fell… since I heard those voices speaking over my body. The memory drifted at the edges of my mind like a fading echo.
Slowly, I sat up.
The sheets rustled beneath me — soft, crisp, unfamiliar. I blinked the haze from my eyes and looked down. My breath caught.
Small, slender hands.
Not mine.
My fingers were narrow, delicate, smooth. My wrists thinner, my arms almost fragile. My gaze dropped further — and my heart stopped.
There were… curves that hadn’t existed before. A weight and shape that made my stomach lurch.
This… this wasn’t possible.
My pulse thundered in my ears. Is this what they were talking about?
I turned, searching the room, until I caught sight of a small mirror propped up beside the bed.
And staring back at me was someone else.
A girl — black-haired, with dark golden eyes that glimmered faintly in the morning light. Young. Confused. Familiar in a way that made my chest ache. She looked almost exactly like Mother… only younger.
A strangled sound escaped me before I even realized it. “Ah? AH?!”
The voice that came out was light, melodic — feminine. Not my voice at all.
“What the hell?!” I blurted, staring at my reflection in disbelief. “What the hell is going on?!”
The door burst open.
Tazuna stood there, wide-eyed, breath catching when she saw me sitting upright. “Daishi, please — calm down. Breathe! You’re hyperventilating!”
“Eh—?!”
She was right. My chest was tightening, my breathing coming fast and shallow. Panic clawed at my throat, but I forced myself to follow her instruction. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Again.
Strangely, it worked — faster than it ever had before. My lungs filled easily; my heartbeat steadied, almost unnaturally smooth.
“What’s… going on?” I asked at last, my voice small.
Tazuna hesitated, then moved closer, her eyes softening. “Daishi… what’s the last thing you remember?”
I swallowed hard, trying to piece it together. “I… fell off a ledge. I hit the ground hard. Then I saw… a bright golden light.”
She made a quiet hum, half thoughtful, half sorrowful. “I see. Then it’s as we suspected. We believe the Three Goddesses turned you into an Uma Musume.”
Her words hung in the air, unreal.
I looked down at my hands again, flexing my unfamiliar fingers. Was this because of what I wished for? Because I wanted to understand them better?
Tazuna drew in a careful breath. “There’s… more to explain, but for now, we’ll assign you students to help you adjust while we figure out how to help.”
“Students?” I echoed, blinking.
She shifted, rubbing her arm nervously. “We’re investigating everything that happened that day. Only the Student Council knows what truly occurred. For now, we’ve registered you as a student to avoid drawing attention to your… disappearance.”
I let out a slow breath. “That… makes sense.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little at that. “In any case,” she said gently, reaching into her pocket, “we decided to give you a new name — something to help you blend in.”
She handed me a student ID card.
The photo space was blank, but the name printed there was unmistakable. My throat tightened as I read it aloud.
“Silent Sonata.”
The words echoed softly in the quiet room.
A name that carried the weight of my mother’s legacy — and the burden of my rebirth.