he morning sun spilled across the academy grounds, painting the open track and workout space in gold. Akuma stood at the edge of the training field with his arms crossed, watching the trainees warm up.
"Alright, Special," he called, his voice calm but firm. "Today's focus is stamina work. That means slow and steady—control your breathing, control your pace."
Special Week bounced in place like an overcharged battery. "Got it! Slow and steady—while going as fast as possible!"
"…That's not what I said."
But she was already nodding enthusiastically. Akuma pointed toward the grass patch where McQueen and Gold Ship were already doing synchronized sit-ups, McQueen counting in her usual graceful tone while Gold Ship answered in loud, unrestrained yells.
"You'll be doing the same," Akuma explained, crouching down to demonstrate. "I'll spot for you this time."
"Roger that!" Special chirped, flopping down onto the mat.
Akuma braced her feet and gave the signal. "Alright, up—"
He didn't even get to finish before she shot forward like a spring-loaded catapult.
CRACK!
Her forehead slammed into his chin, and Akuma's body lifted off the ground for a fraction of a second before he toppled backward, hitting the dirt a few feet away.
McQueen, halfway through her own set, turned her head just enough to see the scene. "Oh my."
Special gasped and scrambled over to him. "Trainer! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—are you okay?!"
Akuma rubbed his jaw, sitting back up. "Yeah… nothing broken. But maybe… slow. And steady. Like I said."
Special saluted. "Yes, sir!"
After dusting himself off, Akuma decided to pivot the day's plan. "Alright, maybe stamina training isn't in the cards for today. Let's work on power control instead."
"Power control?" Special tilted her head.
"That's right." Akuma reached into a small cloth pouch and pulled out a set of smooth glass beads. "We're going to play Gonggi. It's a reflex and accuracy game. Good for hand-eye coordination and learning to control strength."
Special crouched down, eyes sparkling. "Oh, this looks fun!"
Akuma demonstrated, flicking a bead into the air and catching it cleanly before it landed. "Simple rules. The goal is precision, not brute force. You flick, you catch. Like this."
Special nodded seriously. "Got it! Precision!"
They sat opposite each other, beads between them. Akuma went first—smooth flick, smooth catch. Special copied, managing a clumsy but passable attempt.
"Good," Akuma praised. "Now, keep it light. Just a little—"
THWIP!
One of the beads rocketed across the short distance like it had been fired from a slingshot, smacking Akuma square in the forehead with a sharp thunk.
The headmaster's head snapped back, and he went down for the second time that morning.
From the nearby track, McQueen happened to be jogging past, towel draped around her neck. She slowed, peered at the sight of Akuma sprawled out with a bead rolling off his face, and said in her usual refined tone, "Oh my."
Special's eyes went wide. "I—I didn't mean to! I was trying to go easy! Honest!"
Akuma sat up slowly, rubbing the growing red mark on his forehead. "That… was your idea of going easy?"
She winced. "Um… I might've… gotten excited?"
Akuma sighed, more amused than angry. "You're going to kill me before the first real race."
Special smiled sheepishly. "At least you'll go out doing what you love—training us!"
"That's not the comfort you think it is."
Akuma stayed silent for a moment, rubbing the fresh red mark on his forehead as Special Week fidgeted nervously in front of him. His gaze drifted toward the track, then to the training yard, and then his expression shifted—he'd just thought of something.
"Come with me for a second," he said suddenly.
Special tilted her head but followed without question.
A few minutes later, she was standing in the middle of the track with a thick rope tied around her waist. The other end of the rope was fastened to a pair of heavy training wheels used for resistance drills.
Akuma crossed his arms and stepped back to admire the setup. "Alright, here's the plan. Five laps around the track, dragging those behind you. This will test your speed, your power, and your stamina all at once."
Special's eyes sparkled like he'd just offered her a golden trophy. "Five laps? No problem, trainer!"
She snapped into a crisp salute, then turned to face the track.
Akuma gave the signal, and Special took off, her feet kicking up dirt as the wheels creaked forward, then followed smoothly as she picked up speed.
From the side, McQueen approached, watching the girl work. "She's certainly giving it her all," she commented.
Akuma chuckled, his eyes following Special's form as she rounded the first corner. "She's got talent, that's for sure. Raw power in those legs, good drive… but she lacks a lot of control like you do. That'll be her biggest hurdle."
McQueen smirked at him, a playful glint in her eye. "Oh my, is that praise I hear? And for me too? Well, I don't mind being complimented, Akuma-san."
Akuma puffed his chest slightly. "I'm simply telling the truth—I'm very lucky to have you both as my trai—NEE—"
The last syllable was yanked right out of him as his body lurched forward violently.
McQueen blinked in surprise before her gaze snapped downward.
Somehow, in his distracted stance, Akuma had ended up standing directly on one of the wheels Special was pulling. And now, with her steady acceleration, she was towing him along like an oversized sack of laundry.
"Wha—wait—Special!" Akuma barked, flailing to keep his balance as the wheel jostled over the track's uneven surface.
McQueen's hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh my—Akuma-san!"
Special, too focused on her task and grinning like a child in a candy store, didn't hear him at all.
"Five laps, here I come!!" she shouted in glee, tightening her pace.
Akuma bounced once, twice, then was dragged fully off his feet, his body now bumping along the dirt as he tried to reach the rope. "Special Stop!!"
McQueen broke into a run along the trackside, skirts swaying wildly as she shouted after them. "Special-chan!! Release the rope!!"
But the young Uma only pumped her legs harder, mistaking the calls for encouragement.
Akuma's voice grew more exasperated with each bump. "McQueen! She's gonna kill me before I even get her to a real race!!"
McQueen could only sigh between frantic steps. "Oh my… this is going to be a long day."