Chapter Text
It was the day of the Satsuki Sho. And as the rest of the Umas were on this day, Agnes Tachyon was headed to the starting gates.
Tachyon was situated directly in the middle of the outer post, in bracket 7. A lucky number, number 7. Of course, luck was all superstition, but Tachyon didn't believe in luck or chance or whatever anyone else wanted to call it. Tachyon believed in science, statistics, fact. Tachyon believed in what was absolute and could be proven, not in things as fickle and false as luck and possibility. She had done the necessary calculations, taken every necessary measurement, looked out for every possible contingency. She was not only prepared for everything, but she was setting herself up to win. After all, she was undefeated. There was nothing that could stop her now. All the numbers were right, all the measurements lined up. Now all she had to do was race.
Tachyon raced best as a pace chaser—stalking the others in the front, making them think she wasn't too much of a threat, and then coming around to take the lead in the last 200 meters or so. Of course, that small detail about not appearing as a threat was hit or miss; now that Tachyon was three times undefeated, she was this race's favorite runner, which meant that every other Uma at the starting gate was going to be doing their damndest to beat her and prove that they were better. (Jungle Pocket, in particular, seemed especially determined, but that didn't scare Tachyon in the slightest. Tachyon knew that she was the superior racer.)
The Satsuki Sho was a 2000 meter turf track in Nakayama Racecourse—a medium length race, another factor that ensured Tachyon would be the winner today. Tachyon had no proficiency to speak of on dirt tracks and solely raced on turf, and medium length races were where she excelled above all else. (She was also comfortable racing on long distance tracks, but medium length races were much easier for Tachyon to run in comparison.) It was a sunny, mostly dry April day, so the track was good, but not firm, but that wasn't enough of a factor to ruin her chances of winning entirely.
(Her birthday was two days ago. She celebrated with a sugary tea and more calculations.)
She hadn't kept track of any of the other racers, in all honesty. She was most focused on where she was placed and what she would need to do in order to win today. She didn't know who was to her left or to her right, which gate Jungle Pocket was standing in or which gate Dantsu Flame was standing in. Everyone here was basically a mystery to her except for herself... and honestly, she was comfortable with that, because that meant no one else was important enough for her to worry about losing. She was Agnes Tachyon, and she was going to win this year's Satsuki Sho.
She stood there in the gate, bringing herself into prime position. One leg forward, one leg back. One arm forward, one arm back. Head stretched forward, body curved back. She was ready for this. All her calculations were perfect, all her calculations had been leading up to this moment. She darted forward at less than maximum speed as the gates opened, taking note of the Umas that were already closest to the front. She had to follow them and be on their tail, to let them control the pace and only overtake them when they didn't have enough time to do anything about it. She had to follow them and ride their wind stream, swerving around them when they least expected it to get ahead.
The commentators were saying something, playing through the speakers placed near the crowds watching. Tachyon could barely hear any of it, the wind whooshing through her ears as she sped off, riding the wind of an Uma dressed in blue and white. Jungle Pocket was nowhere in sight, a good sign for Tachyon; she wasn't really worried about losing at all today because of all her calculations, but if there was a threat to her win, it was going to be Jungle Pocket and Dantsu Flame, so not being able to see either in her peripheral vision was a good sign. She was going to win.
Her mind raced as she sped down the track, turning a corner alongside the other Umas. She kept hereyes focused on the racer in front of her, keeping her eyes focused on the gap to their left that would allow her to swerve around and take the lead as they rounded the final corner. She thought about what it would be like when she won; it would almost be like a birthday present to herself, because this win would be the product of hard work. All her calculations, all her training, every ounce of effort that she had ever put into this race was coming to fruition in the form of a first place trophy, and-
Before she could finish thinking, her foot twisted on the way down, prompting a gasp.
The rest of her body collided with the ground in a flash. Her ankle twisted and sent her leg down from the side, and despite her sending an arm down to catch herself, her entire body landed on its side on the turf. She barely had a moment to catch her breath, only managing to turn her head to see the other 13 Umas headed her way. Foot and heel and foot and heel all buried her underneath, leaving as quickly as they came each time. Her throat felt like it was being crushed, her back felt completely stiff and unmovable, her legs felt like they were being yanked in each direction with every step that crushed them underneath an Uma's full body weight. (They all weighed roughly 44 kg an Uma. That combined with the pressure coming from an umashoe...)
She tried to lift her head up, disoriented as all hell, but a stray Uma or two ran across her, burying her head further into the turf beneath her. A cloud of dust and grass appeared around her and over her head, faintly in her blurry and obscured field of vision, and she could barely place anything. She couldn't tell where the turf ended and the crowd began, she couldn't tell where the voices she could barely hear were coming from, she couldn't tell what part of her body was touching what because she could barely feel anything. All she felt was pain—sharp, burning, excruciating pain, all up her back and through her legs. She had been crushed inside and outside, buried into the ground as though Nakayama Racecourse would be her grave.
She could barely remember anything from there, only hearing screams and shouts as shadows entered her vision. And slowly, her vision faded away, bringing nothing but black and silence.
