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Uma musume: Why can’t i just live a normal life?

JJ_Sefa
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
A 15-year-old boy with no knowledge of Uma Musume suddenly finds himself transported into a world he barely understands—Japan, but not the one he knows. He awakens in a trash can, trapped in the body of a six-year-old, malnourished Uma Musume with no family or friends to turn to. Alone, cold, and hungry, he must navigate a strange new life, surviving the harsh streets while discovering the hidden world of racing girls. Every step is a challenge, every stranger a potential threat, and every day a fight to survive. Amid the dangers and fleeting moments of kindness, he clings to hope, learning that even in a world of speed and glamour, survival begins in the shadows.
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Chapter 1 - The struggles of an orphan

It smelled like rot and metal.

When he opened his eyes, the world was sideways. Cardboard walls, a dented trash can lid, the faint buzz of city lights.

His hands—no, her hands—were tiny. Small, trembling fingers coated with grime.

"…what the—"

The voice that came out wasn't his. It was small, fragile, and high-pitched.

Panic hit her like a wave. He scrambled back, tripping over a broken box, before catching a glimpse of herself in a cracked mirror beside the trash bin.

A little girl stared back.

Ears. Tail.

"You've got to be kidding me…" She whispered.

Her throat tightened. Everything around her felt too real, the chill in the air, the soreness in her body, the faint ache in his empty stomach.

"Where… am I?"

Her last memory flickered faintly… gray skies, an empty dorm room, the sound of rain tapping against the window. No parents. No friends. Just him. Then… darkness.

And now, this.

She looked down at his frail body, thin arms, bony knees, bruises scattered across pale skin. Her stomach growled weakly.

"Guess the universe really has it out for me, huh…" She muttered, forcing a shaky laugh.

She took a deep breath, trying to steadying herself despite the panic she is feeling. "Okay. Think, Akira. You're fifteen… or you were. Now you're—" he looked down at his tiny hands— "six? Maybe seven?"

The faint twitch of a tail behind him made him freeze. Furry ears flicked instinctively at the sounds around him.

"…no way. This can't be real. Did I… end up in Uma Musume?"

The thought sounded ridiculous even to her, but the evidence was right there.

"I didn't even watch the damn show," She mumbled, half to himself. "Why me?"

Her stomach growled again, louder this time. Somewhere nearby, the scent of warm bread drifted in from the streets beyond the alley.

"Okay… food first. Answers later."

She took a few shaky steps toward the streetlight at the end of the alley, every step echoing softly against the pavement.

Voices carried faintly in the distance, laughter, conversation, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the ground.

She hesitated, glancing down at her ragged clothes. Her reflection in a puddle showed a small, scared child that no one would ever recognize.

Her heart started to pound. The lights, the noise, the strange city—it all felt too big. She wanted to hide again, to crawl back into the dark corner of that alley and pretend this wasn't happening.

But the smell of bread still lingered in the air, warm and cruel. Her stomach twisted painfully, reminding her that running wasn't an option.

"…get it together," she muttered under her breath, voice shaking.

She didn't know where she was or how this world worked, but hunger was something she did understand. Hunger never changed.

Her eyes darted down the street, toward a narrow lane lined with restaurants and small shops. Behind them—dumpsters, storage sheds, and back doors where workers tossed out leftovers. The same kind of places she used to sneak behind back home.

"Back trashcans first," she whispered, repeating the old rule. "Always check the ones near bakeries. They throw out bread early."

Pressing herself against the wall, she moved slowly, trying to stay out of sight. The rough pavement bit into her bare feet, and the cool air stung her skin. She tried not to draw attention—no one would look twice at a dirty little kid in the shadows, but if they saw the ears or tail… that might be different.

As she crept closer to the first shop, faint humming reached her ears—someone cleaning up for the night. She ducked behind the trash bins, pulling the lid open just enough to peek inside.

The smell hit her instantly.

Rotten fruit, damp paper, and stale bread. But beneath all that… something still good.

She reached in with shaking hands, sorting through scraps until her fingers brushed something soft—a half-eaten roll, a little dirty but not moldy.

"…lucky," she whispered.

She tore into it without thinking, biting fast, ignoring the taste. Crumbs clung to her lips as her body trembled with every swallow, her empty stomach finally easing just a little.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Leaning against the dumpster, she breathed slowly, eyes darting toward the empty street. The world still felt unreal—the laughter of passing girls with tails and ears, the rhythmic clatter of hooves fading down the road—but the pain in her stomach was all too real.

She swallowed hard and looked up at the night sky.

"…if this really is that horse-girl world," she murmured quietly, "then… what happens to ones like me?"

No answer came. Just the distant hum of the city, alive and uncaring.

She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, crouched beside the trash can, and waited, unsure if she was waiting for sleep, sunrise, or just for someone to notice her.

The city grew quieter as the night deepened.

The laughter faded, the lights dimmed, and the air turned colder.

She hugged her arms close, shivering. The half-eaten roll sat beside her, barely enough to calm the growl in her stomach. Her tail twitched weakly beneath her tattered clothes as she looked around, trying to find somewhere—anywhere—that didn't feel so open.

The alley behind the bakery wasn't safe for long. People might come to throw trash out in the morning, and if anyone saw her… she didn't want to find out what would happen.

"Need somewhere warm… just a little spot…" she whispered softly, her voice small and hopeful.

Her eyes caught a pile of old cardboard boxes near a recycling bin. Some were damp, some torn, but to her—they looked like a miracle. She dragged them toward the narrow gap between two dumpsters, where the walls met at a tight corner.

It wasn't much, but it could be home. For now.

She worked slowly, her small hands shaking from both cold and exhaustion. Using some bottles and bricks she found nearby, she pinned the boxes down, making a little tunnel just big enough to crawl into. Her breath came out in faint, white puffs as she worked, and she giggled once when a piece of cardboard slipped and bonked her lightly on the head.

"Hey—don't fall apart yet," she murmured, smiling faintly at her own handiwork. "We just met."

She found a couple of old blankets in a trash bag nearby—dirty and torn, but soft in places. She shook them out the best she could and spread them inside before crawling in herself.

It was cramped.

It smelled like dust and wet paper.

But it was hers.

"…there. Not bad, huh?" she whispered, her voice warm with a hint of pride. "Almost cozy…"

The blanket's rough fabric scratched her cheek, but it still felt nice—safe, in a way. Her stomach ached faintly, and her body wouldn't stop shivering, but little by little, warmth began to return.

She curled up tightly, tail wrapped around her legs, eyelids heavy.

Outside, the city carried on—distant hoofbeats, muffled chatter, the hum of streetlights—but in her tiny cardboard fort, time felt slower. Softer.

She let out a quiet sigh and pulled the blanket closer, smiling weakly.

"Tomorrow'll be better," she whispered, half to herself. "Yeah… it has to be."

Just before sleep claimed her, she thought she heard something faint—footsteps, maybe? Or a tune being hummed far away.

Her ears twitched, but her body didn't move. She was too tired.

"…five more minutes…" she mumbled sleepily, voice slurring into a yawn.

And with that, the little Uma drifted into a fragile, peaceful sleep beneath the flickering streetlight—her first night in a world she didn't yet understand.

The first light of morning was pale and weak, seeping through the cracks between the cardboard boxes. She stirred slowly, curling tighter as a shiver ran through her small body.

Her teeth chattered softly, and the blankets that had seemed comforting during the night now did little against the biting cold. She hugged herself, tail tucked close, ears drooping slightly as she rubbed them with tiny hands.

"…brr… so cold," she murmured, voice trembling. "Maybe… maybe I fell asleep too early…"

Her stomach grumbled faintly, reminding her that the half-roll from last night was long gone. She peeked outside her makeshift shelter. The street was quiet, bathed in early morning light, but the air was sharp and icy. Frost clung to the pavement and the metal lids of the dumpsters.

She pressed her forehead against the cardboard, trying to warm herself a little. "Gotta… gotta get moving," she whispered. "Food… somewhere…"

Her eyes scanned the alley and nearby street. The faint scent of fresh bread drifted from a bakery a little ways down the road. It was weak, but enough to make her heart beat faster.

Slowly, carefully, she pushed herself out of her little fort. Her bare feet met the cold ground, sending a sharp jolt up her legs. She stumbled a bit, shivering, but forced herself forward.

Each step was slow, cautious, her ears twitching at every sound. The world was awake now—the distant clatter of hooves, a cart rolling down the street, the hum of voices and laughter—but she stayed in the shadows, determined to reach that faint smell of warmth and food.

"…almost there… almost there…" she whispered, teeth chattering, trying to keep her spirits up.

Her small body wrapped tighter in her arms as she crept forward, every step a reminder that survival wasn't easy. But she had done it before. She could do it again.

And maybe… just maybe… someone would notice her today.

She stumbled carefully down the quiet street, the cold biting at her bare feet. Her small body shivered with every step, and her stomach growled insistently. The faint smell of fresh bread drew her forward, guiding her like a small, fragile compass.

Up ahead, she spotted a table outside a small cafe. Four girls in bright uniforms—matching jackets and skirts, clean and neat—were sitting together, laughing and eating breakfast. Their tails flicked lazily, ears twitching with each laugh, their hooves tapping lightly against the chairs.

She froze for a moment, hidden behind a lamppost, watching them. Everything about them screamed warmth, comfort, and safety—things she hadn't known in a long time.

One of the girls picked up a bagel, taking a bite as she laughed at something the others said. Akira's eyes widened when the bagel slipped from her grasp, rolling across the cobblestones toward the edge of the street.

Without thinking, without hesitation, Akira darted forward, hands outstretched. She snatched the bagel just before it hit a puddle. She held it close, eyes darting back to the girls. They didn't seem to notice—their laughter carried on, oblivious.

"…thank… thank you, universe," she whispered under her breath, taking a small, careful bite. Her tail flicked nervously as warmth spread from her stomach for the first time since last night.

She crouched behind the lamppost, finishing the bagel quickly, crumbs sticking to her lips and clothes. A small tear slipped down her cheek, the weight of hunger and loneliness pressing on her.

"…finally…" she whispered, her voice trembling with relief. "…thank you…" She bowed like she was thanking the gods themselves for giving her this bagel, she joyfully bit down on the bagel.

Even as she ate, her ears twitched. The girls were still laughing, still eating, still living. And she knew, deep down, that she didn't belong here, not yet.

Her stomach felt a little fuller, but the cold still bit into her bones. She needed more than just this. She needed shelter, warmth… maybe someone who would notice her.

For now, though, the small victory of a stolen bagel was enough to remind her that hope, even tiny, could still exist.

Akira hugged the bagel close as she ducked further into the shadows, savoring the small warmth spreading through her body. Her ears twitched at every passing sound, and her tail flicked nervously as she crept along the alley.

From the cafe table, laughter and conversation continued. One of the girls—clean, bright, and energetic—suddenly paused mid-laugh, her sharp eyes catching something out of the corner of her vision.

A fleeting glimpse of a small, frail figure disappearing into the alley made her frown.

"Huh…?" the girl muttered under her breath, blinking. "…did I see something just now?"

Another girl, sitting across from her, noticed her hesitation and tilted her head. "Hm? Hey, are you okay?" she asked, voice curious but gentle. "Special Week, you're staring off again."

Special Week shook her head quickly, trying to refocus on her friends, but the image lingered—a tiny figure, almost swallowed by the shadows, moving quietly and alone.

Akira didn't notice the attention she had drawn. She was too focused on the warmth of the bagel in her hands and the small, stolen comfort it gave her. Yet, unknowingly, she had left a trace of herself behind—a fleeting shadow that would not be forgotten.

Akira finished the last bite of the bagel, crumbs clinging to her lips and clothes. She hugged the small piece of warmth to her chest, taking a deep breath. The cold still gnawed at her, sharper in the morning than it had been at night.

She glanced around the alley, eyes flicking to the dumpsters and cardboard fort she had built. Her tiny body shivered as she rubbed her arms, trying to squeeze some heat back into her bones.

"…okay… gotta keep moving," she whispered softly, her voice shaky but determined. "Can't… can't just stay here forever."

Her stomach grumbled faintly, reminding her that one bagel wouldn't be enough. She needed more—something better, something safe. Her mind wandered back to her past life as an orphan, where every scrap and every discarded morsel could make the difference between surviving the night or going hungry.

With cautious steps, she moved further into the alley, peeking around corners and checking for anything useful—more trash cans, old crates, anything that might have leftovers. Her ears twitched at every noise, her tail flicking nervously with each sound of a passing car or distant hoofstep.

Finally, she spotted something promising: a pile of discarded boxes pushed against a wall behind a small store. They weren't much, but she could use them to make another little shelter—or at least block the wind a bit.

She crawled over, her small hands brushing against damp cardboard. The chill seeped through her clothes, but she forced herself to focus. Every movement had to be careful. Every sound had to be minimal.

"…alright… little fort number two," she whispered, voice trembling but a hint of pride threading through it. "We can do this… we'll be okay…"

She arranged the boxes as best she could, stacking and leaning them against the wall to create a tiny nook. It wasn't perfect, but it was something. She crawled inside, curling up tightly, tail wrapped around her legs, teeth chattering slightly.

The cold was relentless, but for a moment, with her little bagel digested and a bit of shelter around her, Akira let herself breathe. A quiet hope stirred inside her chest, fragile but stubborn.

"…we'll figure it out," she whispered softly, eyes closing against the chill. "…somehow…"

Outside the alley, the world went on—distant hoofbeats, laughter, the hum of a waking city. And somewhere in the back of her mind, the fleeting thought of the girls at the cafe lingered, just like a faint shadow she didn't quite understand.

Akira curled up tighter in her makeshift fort, shivering as the morning chill seeped through the thin layers of cardboard and blankets. She hugged her knees to her chest, ears flicking nervously at every distant sound—the soft clip of hooves, a cart rattling down the street, the occasional shout of a passerby.

Then… something moved.

A faint rustle came from the far end of the alley, just beyond a stack of crates she hadn't checked yet. Her ears twitched sharply, tail pressing against the cardboard floor instinctively.

She held her breath, eyes wide, staring at the shadowed space. The movement was small, almost delicate—a shuffle, like someone stepping carefully.

Her tiny hands gripped the blanket tighter. "…who's there…?" she whispered softly, voice trembling.

Nothing happened at first, just the echo of her own heartbeat and the distant city noise. Then a faint glint of light caught her eye—a reflection from a hoof? Or maybe a metallic edge of something the newcomer was carrying?

Akira froze, torn between fear and curiosity. The shadow moved a little closer, cautious, deliberate. She wanted to shrink back, but something inside her whispered that this could be important… maybe someone who wouldn't just step over her like she didn't exist.

She swallowed hard, tail flicking nervously. "…hello…?" she tried, barely audible, her voice shaking like a leaf in the wind.

The alley remained still for a moment. Then a soft shuffle came again, closer this time.

Her ears perked up instinctively. Whoever—or whatever—it was, they were real, and they were here.

For the first time that morning, Akira felt her heart race with more than just fear. Curiosity, caution, and a faint, fragile hope stirred in its place.

Akira's ears twitched as the shadow moved closer, cautious and deliberate. She pressed herself tighter against the cardboard, eyes wide, heart hammering in her chest.

A soft, measured step echoed in the alley—hooves on concrete, precise and deliberate. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows: a tall, commanding Uma Musume with sleek white hair and an aura of authority. The emblem on her jacket caught the morning light—the unmistakable mark of Tracen Academy.

Akira froze.

The president of tracen…?

Symboli rudolf, she was one of the few characters Akira knew about in uma musume

Every instinct screamed at her to run, to vanish into the shadows she'd grown used to. She pressed herself as flat as she could, tail tucked tight, barely breathing. She didn't trust anyone, not yet—not after everything.

The tall Uma scanned the alley carefully, eyes sharp and calculating, but seemingly unaware of the tiny, hidden figure just behind a stack of boxes. Akira's heart pounded painfully in her chest as she held her breath, willing herself to disappear completely.

Then

A blur of energy exploded into the alley from the other end. A small, Uma, barely seven, barreled toward the president, her tiny hooves slapping against the ground.

"Symboli Rudolf! Wait—wait for me!" the little one shouted, voice high-pitched and insistent.

Symboli Rudolf's attention snapped instantly, head turning sharply toward the approaching figure. Her eyes narrowed, then softened slightly, her authoritative posture relaxing for just a moment as she watched the little one come closer.

In that fraction of a second, Akira's chance appeared. She slinked backward along the shadows, tail brushing lightly against the wall, every step careful and silent.

"…thank you…" she whispered under her breath, almost inaudible, as she slipped past unnoticed.

The little golden blur reached the tall Uma Musume, chattering excitedly and tugging at her sleeve. Symboli Rudolf bent slightly to listen, her sharp gaze now entirely focused on the child.

Akira didn't look back. Her tiny heart raced, adrenaline mixing with relief as she melted deeper into the alleys, away from the powerful figure who had almost discovered her.

For the first time that morning, she allowed herself to breathe fully again—but only just. The world was still enormous, and she was still small, hungry, and cautious.

But she had survived another close call.

"…I can do this," she whispered, gripping her blanket tighter. "…I just… have to keep going…"

Night fell again, colder and quieter than the morning. Akira had found a small nook behind a shuttered storefront, cardboard and blankets her only companions. She curled up tightly, trying to ward off the chill, tail tucked around her legs, ears flicking nervously at every distant sound.

Just as her eyes were starting to close, a rustling echoed from the shadows nearby. At first, she froze, thinking it might just be the wind—or a stray animal. But then a figure emerged.

It was an old man, ragged, unsteady, and wide-eyed, his movements jerky and erratic. His hair was matted, clothes torn and filthy, and the smell of alcohol and something sharper clung to him. His gaze locked on Akira, wild and unblinking.

"…hey, little one…" he slurred, voice rough and unstable. "…what're you doin' out here all alone?"

Akira's ears flattened against her head, and her tail bristled. Every instinct screamed danger. Her small body tensed, legs coiled like a spring.

"No… stay back!" she whispered fiercely, voice trembling but firm. She grabbed a broken stick from her makeshift fort—anything she could use as a weapon.

The man lunged slightly, laughing hoarsely, unsteady on his feet. Akira's hooves dug into the ground as she shoved him back with the stick, striking just hard enough to make him stumble.

"Go… away!" she hissed, heart hammering in her chest.

The man hissed back, taking another erratic step toward her. But Akira's survival instincts, honed from nights of scavenging and hiding, kicked in fully. She jabbed again, quick and precise, her tiny body agile and alert.

Finally, after a tense moment, the man lost his balance, tripping over a nearby crate and crashing to the ground. He groaned and muttered incoherently, no longer immediately threatening.

Akira didn't wait to see if he would get back up. She scrambled backward into the shadows, hooves moving as silently as she could manage, heart racing. Her ears twitched, scanning for any further movement, tail flicking nervously.

She finally curled back into her cardboard nook, gripping the stick tightly against her chest. Breath coming in ragged gasps, she whispered softly, "…I… I have to be careful. Can't… can't trust anyone…"

The night stretched on, cold and silent, and Akira hugged herself tighter, still shaken, but alive.

Akira curled up in the shadows, gripping the stick tightly against her chest, breathing ragged from the encounter. The old man groaned and muttered incoherently on the ground, his attention elsewhere, lost in his own haze.

Her stomach growled, reminding her sharply that a small bagel from earlier morning was long gone. She swallowed hard, ears flicking nervously at the sound of his muttering.

"…I… I don't want to," she whispered, voice trembling, tail brushing against the cardboard floor. "…but… I need… something to eat…"

She glanced at the old man's pockets. Fumbling in his coat were a few crumpled dollar bills, small change that could buy something simple—a loaf of bread, maybe a roll or two.

Her tiny hooves shook as she inched closer, heart pounding in her chest. "…I'm sorry," she muttered softly, more to herself than to him. "…I really am…"

Quickly, quietly, she reached in and snatched the bills, her movements practiced from years of scavenging. The man didn't notice, lost in his own world. She held the money close to her chest, trembling as tears pricked at her eyes.

"…okay… okay…" she whispered, trying to steady her voice. "…just a little… just enough…"

Her stomach churned, partly from hunger, partly from guilt. She hated stealing, hated taking from anyone, but she had learned early in life that survival sometimes demanded harsh choices.

Clutching the bills tightly, she backed away into the shadows, finding a small corner near her makeshift fort. The city was quiet now, the cold still biting, but she finally felt a small sense of security—enough to plan her next move.

"…I'll… I'll make it right… someday," she whispered, voice soft but determined, hugging herself. "…but for now… I have to survive…"

Even as guilt lingered at the edges of her thoughts, a small warmth spread through her chest—the faint hope that with these bills, she could finally get a little more than scraps.