Chapter Text
Hands neatly pulled frayed ends of a scarf through the hole. Two ends of the same piece of cloth could make a strong knot, simply by coming together.. This small harmony, enjoyed even by a single article of clothing, made Symboli Rudolf’s heart swell. She thought of the vast network of efforts that likewise came together to aid her everyday life, how beautiful the scene they formed was.
A train’s engine (which in and of itself was already a symphony of machines playing in unison) pulled it along tracks, made from metal, which was surely mined from some place she would never lay eyes upon.. Before that, what must have happened to form even an atom of the material?
“Now arriving at: Jimbōchō.”
Rudolf’s ears perked up first, senses following in tow. She steadied her feet–whether this was to ground herself in reality or maintain balance was yet ambiguous.
“Ding!”
Today, she was neither ‘President’ nor ‘Emperor’.
Having set aside some of her own time for the excursion, Rudolf managed to arrange for a day off in the midst of the week, one feverishly cold Thursday, to be exact. On this day, she played the part of another nameless face in the bustle of everyday life, being caught up in its whims. The thought of being so insignificant and inconsequential, so miniscule—it made her heart race.
In one single step, ground returned to its rightful place beneath her, and eyes laid bare the station's fine tiling. The color palette was a mix of white, navy blue, and brown; this particular Umamusume could not help but find the combination soothing for the pattern’s innate similarity to a bookshelf, which was, of course, the intent.
“It might get tiresome if you’re living here full-time, seeing this every single day.. I imagine after a while it would start to feel quite gaudy. But as a tourist, you have to recognize and appreciate the hard work done to create this effect. Ah, now I have no other choice..”
To the passerby around her, the sight was completely abnormal—an Umamusume staring at the wall and bowing deeply, like a child making a wish at a shrine—Rudolf stuck out like a sore thumb.
After this display of thanks, she followed the general movement of the others in the station until her eyes were met with the natural light of the waking world. Her efforts in toiling to reach the apex of the stairs’ ascent were rewarded with a biting chill.
It was not the sort of cold that one could shove their hands inside the pocket of a lover and be safe from. No, the air’s temperament today sought to arrest all who dared take in a single breath, which the woman standing stunned by the feeling soon did realize. The sensation now taking hold of her senses was comparable only to wasabi, she thought, what with it sending a powerful wave of shock to her sinuses before passing through her lungs, leaving her frozen in place.
‘What would I do without a scarf today..’
She pulled the fabric up over both her nose and mouth and gave a great exhale. It was a trick for priming oneself for the cold, or so her grandfather had said when he handed down the knowledge to his granddaughter.
‘First has to be the signing, then to hit the shops in succession.. If everything goes well, then visiting seven or eight should be no problem. Ahh, retracing one’s steps on the route is quite the bother, though..’
Such thoughts of how this or that would impact the framework of her day gnawed tirelessly at Rudolf’s brain and pushed the limits of her patience more than any frustrating claim ever could. When the feeling came to be more overwhelming than any other sense, she lightly bit her own thumb—A subconscious move done to snap her back into reality, to lead her away from the problem.
In no time at all, she’d turned left from the station, crossed the street, and taken a right turn; seeking out this rather unsuspecting building, wherein a few women in business suits had ducked. She waved away floating thoughts about their outfits and joined the queue, reaching into her bag.
‘Ah, so then the lot of you are also..’
The book that she fished out from the bag slung fashionably around her shoulder was the sixth in a series titled ‘My Life, Withering Away With You’. A popular choice with the workaholic type, it was the epitome of romance that would give any person a toothache, then knock it right out of their mouth with a heavy reminder of the protagonist’s worsening condition. As Rudolf thumbed through a few pages, she began to imagine a scene from the book, getting lost in the author’s intricate descriptions of the world around the main couple.
‘Inogashira-sensei.. Your attention to detail down to the last petal of a flower is, truthfully,—’
“Ehh?”
An exclamation erupted from behind her, another twitch of her ears and tail signaled that she was undoubtedly aware of what it was.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but is that the first edition?”
Knowing that it was, and being proud of it, Rudolf had held the book with its cover facing up in the hopes of catching envious stares, although it seemed now that she’d reeled in a lot more than she’d bargained for with the bait.
“Ah, yes.. You have qui—”
“Yes. I made a point of getting my hands on these editions for each book.. To be honest, I spent a good amount of my savings just on the fourth volume.”
“No surprise there. That’s how limited releases like that turn out, right? And this one was so hyped up online, too.. It’s no surprise you had to go all in on it!”
She was fortunate enough to be able to stop herself in the middle of her sentence, but not enough to stop her from turning. Her eyes darted between the two behind her with a sidelong glance, and after a moment they stared back. Rudolf bobbed her head in apology.
‘Not surprising.. Everyone enjoys the fourth volume of the series for its position as the first major climax, but if you’re a big enough fan, you’d hold the opinion that—’
“Naturally, the twelfth book is superior.”
‘Naturally, the twelfth book is superior.’
“The internet’s buzz surrounding the series at the time was definitely intense and well earned, but I’d be hard pressed to call it the ‘best’ of them all, like so many others do.”
She was blown away, stunned by the woman’s conviction, knocked back onto her bottom in seconds. Just who was this person, and how could she find a way to strike up a conversation with her, Rudolf mused.
‘It may be time for me to reconsider my biases.. Who knew that such a savant would be in a place such as this?! With this level of appreciation for not only the author’s intent, but also the story as a whole, able to seat her own opinion so closely to real fact.. Truly, savant is the only title that could be used to describe this woman, perhaps alongside ‘diamond in the rough’..’
Thoughts such as these ran freely through her mind until the two women began speaking again. Composed with a hint of liberated excitement could have described the taste of the buzz generated between them aptly. Rudolf weighed the advantages and disadvantages of butting in like a money changer would a gold coin: with a close eye.
In this sort of place, a gathering for fans of a series featuring two human characters, it was impossible to ignore the distance between herself as an Umamusume and these two, as women. If she were to approach with normal means, she would risk being sucked into the surface level of the dialogue, kept at a distance and held there, unable to truly push the finer points. Rudolf feared the worst case scenario.
True it was, of course, that both parties were generally referred to as female, but the public’s preconceived notions about the girls with ears and tail were very much real—their hyperfocus on running and naught else, their position as entertainment even so. If they left the box designed for them, they were regarded as a conundrum, with questioning stares from human peers; if they stayed inside of it though, it would kill them in a short time. To many, the word ‘woman’ meant ‘female human’. This fact choked her conviction, stared her down with eyes that were enough to petrify even the boldest of souls: A demon by the name of ‘Ostricization’ ruled over her.
So it was that the problem grew into another of the Umamusume’s great internal bouts. However, it did not go on for so long that time progressed past the point of no return, of course: Rudolf could not maintain this bird’s-eye view forever, as even the strongest peregrines were unable to fly indefinitely.
“If I had to pick a least favorite, I might say.. Hmmm.. ah, maybe the second book?”
“Go on..”
“Well, I dunno. I just thought that a lot of the parallels drawn to the source material were pretty forced, like Inogashira-sensei was making both of them wear clothes that don’t fit. Like honestly, if you’re going to use a play as your centerpiece, don’t you think it’s a bit much to insert lines from it into the story? It was just frustrating.. I wanted to be able to make the connection on my own.”
Wheeling around excitedly and giving a moment’s pause, Rudolf spoke enthusiastically to the pair, her words gesticulating the magnitude of her fervor:
“That’s a valid complaint, but have you considered that the author could have been forcing it on you in service of a bigger purpose?”
The two women blinked in response to the new entrant in their conversation. They were now the ones blown back onto their bottoms, but for an entirely different reason. Rudolf pushed her glasses up.
“The second book is told from a perspective that’s heavily biased toward the protagonist, as you may know, and a lot of those more forceful touches are added to emphasize the power held over the girl and steal control away from the reader. Although I definitely agree with you on your first point—it would have been refreshing indeed to see those comparisons drawn naturally.”
Inserting oneself without so much as making an introduction, asking, or even a gesture to signal that you’d like to do as such is the very definition of a faux pas in any context, but it was amplified by the smaller scale of this gathering in specific. Choosing to completely forgo small talk, and being so enthusiastic right out of the gate—not a soul could blame the pair for their astonished faces at that moment.
“Ah, well.. Yeah.. I didn’t think about it like that, aha.”
“. . .”
The more upper crust of the two, which Rudolf had previously dubbed ‘savant’ (and also the one she most wanted the approval of) gave only the readjusting of her glasses as a response, to her chagrin. As if the very air hanging between all the involved parties were sucked into a vacuum, the conversation rushed to a complete stop, just like that.
Even so, lines are as lines will be: perpetually moving forward. Within minutes the Umamusume had her copy of the book signed awkwardly, electing to go without an interaction with the author for fear of some still greater blunder.
‘Embarrassing.. That was, without a doubt, absolutely, unequivocally, wholly, really and truly the worst way that it could have gone. Of course I should have acknowledged more of her points.. Even if I had just mirrored the other one, that would have been fine—but I went and spoke carelessly.’
Boots trampled pavers underneath, the only sight she treated herself to even on a scenic walk such as this. Perhaps it was a self-imposed punishment, or maybe she didn’t feel she could stand to look the pedestrians in the eye, as racked with shame as she was.
The whole of her internal strife was completely misdirected. Something she didn’t understand about the interaction nagged annoyingly at her, many different conclusions welling up in her mind’s eye, each their own frustrated tear all gushing out at once.
Social situations contain an infinite number of variables, from opinions to biases—even the mood in the air; they are truly limitless, and thus the scale of even one single sliver of conversation can be amplified by one’s emotions enough to drive them completely mad if considered at length.
Mad was definitely the word to describe how she felt, either definition of the word could give name to that bile rising in her throat. But the question that lie dormant in her heart was yet unanswered: Why?
Rudolf stepped into that other world, completely taken with the sight that lay ahead.
Pale fingers trembled, gripping surgical instruments.
First, a horizontal cut.
Blood was welcomed by an elated smile beneath the mask.
Now, vertically.
‘Trace the area carefully.’
Her blade glided through with no resistance.
Surely a steep cliff would have shown on the monitor, if she were the one whose heart rate was being observed.
‘Next cut.’
Fingers that shook ever so slightly gripped the scalpel, the incision that followed mirrored as much: a gruesome line was traced, blood rising from it and pouring down the patient’s nude body.
“Ah..”
Rudolf reached a hand out to it—the subject of her desire—projecting a fine gaze along its curves, dilated pupils devouring every inch of the patient selfishly.
She pulled her hand back, and the knife followed in its place.
'Not yet.’
An empty plate sat blankly on the table. Its solitary nature was owed, not to the now vacant space a customer had occupied, but to the strange absence of any crumbs, blemishes or evidence that it had even been used to eat off of.
To its right one could spot a fork and knife, shimmering brightly in the exact same manner as the plate, reflecting this eerie sense of absence as if it were the pair’s solitary reason for existing.
As the waitress came around to collect them, she too was shocked by the scenery. She attempted to recall who exactly had been seated here, digging through the banks of her memory, but was interrupted by the sound of a bell tolling.
Eyes full of surprise shot to the location of its unmistakable cry, but all they glimpsed were the fleeting brown hairs of a tail, bobbing in the early afternoon’s frosty breeze.