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-present day, trainer’s office-
[On today’s episode of National Umagraphic, we focus on the history and origins of Lottery before her entrance into Tracen Academy.]
“Hm? They did an episode on you?”
“I know, right? They got so much stuff wrong. They said I left Watt’s care due to ‘creative differences.’”
“That’s…”
She sighed. “At least I passed enough they didn’t know about my whole, deadname, and stuff.”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. You never told ME about it either.”
“Oh? Let me explain.”
-5 years ago, doctor’s appointment-
“So why exactly are my ears just, falling off? Straight up?”
A young girl, most likely in her mid teens, was seated on a piece of parchment paper like a cookie as she listened to the doctor in front of her with some suspicious qualifications.
“Tinker, right? Hope you remember your punnet squares,” she said with no context, before pulling over a whiteboard that she hadn’t even noticed was there. She drew a window on it, then some weird letters around that window.
“So, Umamusume-hood is a recessive gene. Your mother was an Umamusume, which means she had two genes we’ll use a lowercase [h] to symbolize… so [hh]..” she mumbled to herself as she wrote. Tinker still didn’t understand it.
“Your father, on the other hand, must’ve at least carried some sort of Uma gene, be it one or both. We really have no way of knowing, but we’ll say he had one dominant and one recessive, for the fun of it.”
[Hh] [hh]
[Hh] [hh]
For such an oddly simple chart, it yet still made zero sense.
“Since we don’t know if your father has any Uma heritage - or I don’t know, at least - we can factor both probabilities as a 50/50 chance which genes your father had, for simplicity’s sake. This gives you a 75% chance of becoming an Umamusume by transitioning.”
Through all that gibberish, that last part is what shocked the young girl. Because she had started her transition, and by sheer coincidence she had the right genes, she’d be an Uma for the rest of her life!
“So I’m- I’m becoming an Uma!? What about my shoulders, or my feet? If I race, wouldn’t it be so obvious-“
“Relaxxxx, this isn’t the 1800s anymore. Modern technology can solve all those problems in the same pill you’re already taking. It’s like magic!”
Her state was stuck somewhere between euphoria, confusion, relief, excitement, and a dozen other emotions that left her eternally stuck on a mental loading screen.
-present day, trainer’s office-
“-so after that, my other ear fell before my new ones started growing in. It was weird hearing out of tiny holes for a few months, but now my head looks normal again.”
Her trainer was their own type of bewildered. “Well that sounds pretty… horrifying..!”
“Not really, there was no blood. More like baby teeth falling out.”
They sighed and regained their composure. You’ve got to look professional at least sometimes. They cleared their throat.
“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come out to me. I would’ve never guessed, honestly.”
“It’s…” she grimaced. “Definitely not something I like to flaunt around. Some people still think that biological advantage stuff applies to Umas.”
“I didn’t even know Umas could be transgender. I thought that transitioning just, wouldn’t be compatible with that stuff.”
“From what I understand, it’s kind of a dormant thing that just sits there if a man has it, so it got triggered when I transitioned. I think this is arguably cooler than being a normal girl anyways,” she smiled, before the tv caught both of their attention.
The person being interviewed on the same program as before was an older man with a partially healed black eye dressed in a brown bomber jacket.
“She was a defiant one, for sure,” the recording said through carefully chosen words. “I lost faith in her so fast when she started complaining so much. In fact, we nearly-“
Vwoop. Tv got turned off, and holding the remote was none other than a deeply frustrated Lottery.
Her trainer chose their next words carefully, as not to upset her more. They had learned in recent weeks that she was prone to bouts of sadness, frustration, and something that almost looked like fear upon memories of her old trainer resurfacing.
“…anything you wanna talk about? I’m always here to listen, you know.”
“That bastard… well, you see- I just- I- ugh.” She gave up trying to speak coherently. All her anger went into fighting back tears from her eyes.
“Let’s just take a moment to calm down. There’s a couch at the end of my office if you wanna lay down.”
She silently accepted the offer.
-1-2 years ago, somewhere far away-
“2:32.08! Are you TRYING to make my life harder!?”
Lottery was… god, she was so tired. She kept mindlessly jogging a few meters after the finish line before her legs gave out and she fell to the ground.
Listen, I’m trying my best to whip you into shape! If you can’t even get sub-2:30 consistently, then I might as well break your legs myself! And you know where that gets you, huh!? DO I HAVE TO SAY IT AGAIN!?”
It was pointless sobbing, but those words really hurt, no matter how many times she heard those empty threats. The only reason she wasn’t closing in on 2 minutes was because she had run this distance countless times that day, and she was exhausted. However, she knew no matter what, no rest would be provided.
“Stand up. Look at yourself, you can’t even do one more lap.”
She couldn’t tell if it was Watt speaking or the voices in her own head. Somewhere in the aching, sloppy mess of Uma that sit on the turf, she scraped up the strength to get up. She had to, anyway.
“That’s better. Now come on, just one more. And act like you WANT to win this time.”
She stood up fully, legs quivering, threatening to snap like two little twigs. She was filled with determination, but a far different kind than that fire in her heart that had been snuffed long ago.
“Don’t look at me like that, get back onto the track. Go now, get. Isn’t you people’s whole thing to never stop running? Do that!”
Her legs moved, daring to defy the man that stood between herself and peace. She took another step, and then another, unable to stop herself despite the more than probable consequences.
“Okay, okay, what do you want. I could hear you just fine from the track if you wanted to say something.“
Her hands balled up into fists. In the blink of an eye, she had curved herself at an odd, improper angle, but clear as day ready to throw a punch.
“Uh, Lotter-“
WHAM.
Fist connected with flesh and bone. It was the last thing she remembered before her legs lost their sudden bout of strength, and she proceeded to lose consciousness.
-
The bed she was used to… it was actually kind of nice. It was her retreat whenever she was allowed to be there. But in a daze of confusion, she couldn’t think clearly. Just sink into the mattress as she listened to fragments of a conversation outside.
“…..pain…….bills…….rowdy………..put..down……..money………….tracen……ship…..”
And she passed out again.
-present day, trainer’s office-
“Oh my God… that man needs to be in prison, like genuinely. We gotta file charges for abuse and conspiracy for murder.”
There was a pause as Lottery muffled her sobs with a pillow, eventually collecting herself enough to sit up and speak.
“He- he’s rich, it’s no use… he made me work so har- hard, I l-lost track of how much I collapsed… wagh…”
Her trainer, still recovering from the fact that someone wanted her put down like a sick dog, tried their best to approach and comfort her.
“It’s okay now. It sucks ass you had to go through that, but… look at your life now. You have so many friends, and a rival to compete against, G1 races under your belt. You can do the same to me if I ever start treating you like that.”
They second guessed their choice of words, opening and closing their mouth after hearing another wet sob from her. But then a smile began to cross her face; slightly forced, but a smile nonetheless.
“He had no right to treat you like some tool with no thoughts and feelings. The whole point of running…”
“…is to chase your dreams,” she finished. Every student in this school had a goal, a dream. Even people like Fuku, who seemed to always rely on fortune, or Rice, who assumed she was so universally hated, or even whatever Goldshi had going on.
“I think… I think I’m already living the dream,” she grinned ear to ear, tears still wetting her face. “I’ve made friends, I can both rest and race whenever I want… this is what I wanted.”
Her trainer reciprocated the smile. “Then our next goal is to dream even bigger. Any ideas for our next race?”