"Man, Uma Musume metabolism is something else…"
Rampage exhaled a plume of herbal cigar mist on the rooftop, gazing at the sky. Lunch with Tamamo Cross, Oguri Cap, and Super Creek had been a feast piled high enough to feed an army. She'd doubted she could finish it, but thanks to the Mejiro family's meals stretching her stomach and her newly grown frame, she polished it off. Her belly had ballooned like a pregnant woman's, yet by after school, her sleek figure was back. Unreal.
"Guess I've gotta eat that much to keep up now, huh?" she muttered.
Her old life of meager meals lingered in her habits, despite the Mejiro family's efforts to fix her diet. There were still kinks to work out, but she resolved to change that starting today. Puffing her cigar, she closed her eyes, savoring the breeze.
"Nice weather…"
A sudden chill interrupted her calm, prickling her skin. Frowning at the uninvited sensation on such a perfect day, she realized it wasn't just a feeling—someone was touching her leg. Her eyes snapped open to find…
"Hot damn, these muscles are unreal. And this bone density… the joints…" a man muttered, his eyes glinting with a dangerous enthusiasm.
Yellow shirt, black vest, shaved sides on his head—yup, that guy. Any Uma Musume would kick him for groping their legs, and Ran was no exception. Following the surge of irritation, she flicked her leg, brushing his hands away.
"Hey, keep your commentary to yourself. Nobody's listening," she said sharply.
"You're incredible!" he exclaimed. "Legs like these? Rare as hell!"
"Thanks, I guess. But you're not thinking you can cop a feel for free, are you?"
She deliberately blew a cloud of mist in his face. He didn't flinch—probably a smoker himself—but looked sheepish, pointing to the trainer badge on his chest.
"I'm no creep, I swear. Look, I'm a Central trainer," he said.
"Sure. And nobody's more honest than a guy who says he's not shady," Ran shot back.
"Ouch, brutal…"
"I'm trying to make something of this body," she said. "Not selling it cheap before it's worth something."
He scratched his head, chuckling apologetically. Her sharp tongue didn't feel like a teenager's—more like sparring with an adult.
"Fair enough. What's it gonna take to win you over?" he asked.
"Dunno. Like I said, no price tag yet."
"Then name your price. I'm Okino, Team Spica's trainer. Let me scout you."
Yup, that Okino. A top-tier trainer, if not for his leg-touching quirk. Seriously, fix that already.
"No offense, but no amount of money's swaying me right now," Ran said bluntly. "Reason's simple: I don't like you."
"Damn, you don't hold back…" Okino winced.
"You grabbed my gear and gave it a Yelp review!" she snapped.
Maybe it was his age or gender, or maybe her human soul itching, but her tongue was razor-sharp. Even the original Rampage wouldn't have been thrilled with this encounter. To prove a point, she did a handstand, springing upright with arm strength alone—a flex of Uma Musume athleticism that left her quietly thrilled.
"Not saying I hate you," she added, stubbing her cigar in her portable ashtray. "But if you want my respect, change your approach."
With that, she strode off the rooftop. Okino shrugged, muttering, "Fair point," before lighting his own herbal cigar.
"Those were some damn fine legs, though," he said to himself. "If she's in the next mock race, I'm watching."
Word of Rampage's run had spread like wildfire. A bold breakaway, pace manipulation, and that ghostly final pass—trainers were buzzing. The most striking comment came from Rigil's Trainer Tojo.
"What's the deal with this Rampage, Hana-san?"
"See for yourself, but in one word: prodigy."
That sealed it. If Rigil's top trainer called her a prodigy, she was the real deal. Touching her legs today confirmed it—muscles supple, bones sturdy, joints flexible. No ordinary Uma Musume.
"They were that good?" a voice asked.
"Yeah, unreal muscle tone, tough bones, springy joints—a true prodigy," Okino said, then blinked. "When'd you get here?"
"Just now," his trainee replied, standing behind him.
She seemed curious about Rampage, too.
"How do I stack up against her?" she asked.
"Come on, comparing you, a WDT star, to her? You're the champ," Okino said.
"Knew you'd say that," she grinned. "But if we'd raced at the same time?"
"...No clue," he admitted.
It was impossible to say. Hypotheticals were just that—hypotheticals. If they'd raced as peers, who'd win? Her physique—sleek muscles, strong bones, flexible joints—made it a toss-up. Instead of dwelling, Okino exhaled a cloud of mist, resetting his thoughts.
"Forget it. Let's move, CB. Time to crush today's training."
"Right, right, whatever you say, Mr. Trainer," Mr. CB replied cheekily.
"Sorry for the wait, Ryan," Ran said, rejoining her friend.
"No biggie," Ryan said. "Hey, someone wants to talk to you. Cool with that?"
"Another scout?" Ran groaned.
"Maybe, maybe not. But it's big—Rigil's Trainer Tojo and the student council president!"
"Spica, now Rigil? What's next…" Ran sighed.