Hachiman's POV
Training was over, but my day was just beginning. I hadn't gone back to the dorm to prep for tomorrow, nor was I slumped on my bed in my usual state of post-work lethargy. Instead, I was standing by the main gate of Tracen Academy, wearing a suit that cost more than my entire casual wardrobe combined. I'd groomed myself to within an inch of my life.
I was waiting for my Grand Master, Man o' War—or "The Professor," as I usually call him. If the Professor was here, that meant my direct teacher, Taliato, was likely close behind. I'd arrived early; a disciple showing up after his masters is a one-way ticket to a lecture I didn't want to hear.
"It's been, what, six or seven months?" I muttered, checking my reflection in a window. "Since the end of summer camp... time is a terrifying thing."
I wondered why the Professor had suddenly decided to descend upon Japan. If it were an official inspection, he would have called the Academy. The fact that he hadn't suggested this was a personal whim. He was many things, but "reserved" wasn't one of them. He was aggressive in his pursuits—a trait I'd always found exhausting yet impressive.
Vrooooom...
A sleek, black limousine pulled up to the curb with whisper-quiet precision. The door swung open before the car had even fully stopped.
"Hachiman! I've missed you, my boy!"
"...We saw each other at the airport this morning, Professor," I deadpanned.
"I wish to see my favorite grand-disciple as often as possible! Even a gap of a single day is a tragedy!" Man o' War boomed, his voice carrying enough power to rattle the gate.
"Master, please. Do not shout inside the vehicle," a calmer, more measured voice followed. Taliato stepped out, looking at me with a weary but kind smile. "Hachiman. I'm sorry if we kept you waiting."
"Not at all. I just got here."
"Come, get in! I want to hear everything!" the Professor insisted, beckoning me into the plush interior of the limo.
An Ultra-High-End Restaurant
We pulled up to a place that looked less like a restaurant and more like a temple to European nobility.
"...How did you even get a reservation here?" I asked, staring at the gilded entrance. "I heard the waiting list for this place is measured in years."
"It was," Taliato explained. "But the moment the Master gave his name, the manager insisted on clearing a table for us today. I worry we've put the staff through a great deal of trouble, but the Master would have it no other way."
"Perks of being a living legend, I guess," I muttered.
"What are you two whispering about back there? Move it!" the Professor barked from the doorway.
"...Even with the nickname, I wish he wouldn't use my name so loudly in public," Taliato sighed.
I stepped inside, feeling like a total fraud. I was probably the only person in the building who didn't own a yacht.
The Dining Hall
The Manager greeted us with a bow so deep I thought his forehead might hit the marble floor. "Master Man o' War, it is the greatest honor of my career to host you. To have the legend of American racing within our walls... please, enjoy everything we have to offer."
"This was the only place in the city that looked even remotely acceptable," the Professor replied, though his tone was softened by a grin. "Forgive the last-minute intrusion."
"Nonsense! It is our privilege!"
We were led to a private table, and the conversation flowed easily as we settled into an omakase course. I was stiff as a board. I'd been taught table manners by Taliato, but practicing them in a dorm room is a lot different than doing it under a crystal chandelier.
"So, Hachiman," the Professor said, leaning in after the appetizers were cleared. "Let's talk business. The Tenno Sho Spring is nearly here. Give me your honest assessment."
I took a slow sip of my drink, trying to find my words. "...Honestly? I'm expecting a storm. If anyone other than Mejiro McQueen wins—especially Rice—the crowd is going to turn ugly. There's going to be jeering."
Taliato nodded grimly. "You still think the 'Heel' narrative persists?"
"Look at the Kikuka Sho," I said. "Rice was simply stronger than Bourbon that day. That's the reality of the sport. But the public doesn't want reality; they want a fairy tale. And in their story, Rice is the villain who ruined the ending. It's ugly, but it's the hand we've been dealt."
"Hachiman, listen to me," the Professor said, his eyes suddenly sharp. "I intend to watch this race in person. Not as a guest of the Academy, mind you—incognito. I want to see this 'Rose of Kyoto' for myself, from the opening bell to the final straight."
"I understand. Her condition is higher than I've ever seen it. I have every confidence that she can win."
Taliato raised an eyebrow. "For you to say that with such certainty... she must be something special."
"We haven't even hit her ceiling yet," I added. "I can feel it. She's still climbing."
"Interesting," Taliato mused. "Hachiman, your ability to observe—to see the 'truth' of an athlete—is arguably higher than mine or the Master's. If your eyes see more room for growth, then she truly is a monster in the making."
"She is," I said. "And the best part is that Rice knows it too. She's responding to the 'demon' menu I gave her with a hunger I didn't know she possessed."
The Professor slammed a hand onto the table (carefully, but still). "Then it's settled! I'm coming to watch your training tomorrow. Don't worry, I won't interfere. I just want to see her move."
"I don't mind," I said, "but we're mostly just doing final gallops and conditioning at this point. The heavy lifting is done."
"Even better. I want to see how she carries herself when the pressure is at its peak."
I sighed. Tomorrow was going to be interesting. If anyone at the track recognized the Professor, I was going to be swamped by people looking for autographs.
"Now, let's finish this meal," Taliato said. "And Hachiman? Relax your shoulders. You look like you're waiting for a firing squad."
"I can't help it," I grumbled. "You taught me how to use the forks, but you never taught me how not to feel like a peasant in a palace. Anyone would be stiff in a place like this."
"It's rare to see you this flustered," Taliato teased. "I think I'll enjoy the sight while it lasts."
"Teacher, please don't start having a personality now. It doesn't suit you."
"Don't worry, Hachiman!" the Professor laughed. "If you get too nervous, I'll just—"
"Master, stay out of this," Taliato interrupted with a smirk. "I want to see how he handles himself. It's good for his character."
I slumped in my chair. "I am... truly alone."
A dinner among legends reveals deep insights... and a new observer for tomorrow's training.
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