The sun was already dipping low, painting the snow in hues of orange and violet as the courtyard transformed once more. What had once been the scene of a farewell feast now circled around a newly carved 1200-meter track. Tables, lanterns, and bonfires formed a glowing island in the center of the ring. The chatter of Umas filled the air like birdsong, excitement bubbling up as they leaned over the fences that had been hastily set up.
Akuma pinched the bridge of his nose, watching the track workers tamp down snow into something runnable. Next to him, a towering figure in a heavy coat chuckled warmly.
"Forgive my daughter's whims," Mejiro Titan rumbled, his tone somewhere between amused and apologetic. His broad shoulders cast a shadow over Akuma as he nodded toward the rowdy crowd of Umas. "But thank you for humoring them."
Akuma exhaled, half ready to groan and half ready to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Don't thank me. I didn't agree to this."
Titan only grinned knowingly. "And yet, here you stand at the starting line."
Akuma muttered something about fate being a cruel mistress, earning another hearty laugh from the elder Mejiro.
The two glanced toward the tables where the Umas sat in waves of colors and energy. McQueen, Special Week, Teio, Vodka, Scarlet, and the others were practically hanging off the wooden barriers, eyes glimmering as though this were the Arima Kinen itself. Rice was perched on Adalbert's chair from earlier, waving her arms like a flag girl. Even Satono Diamond and Kitasan Black, who were normally reserved, had leaned forward, eager to see the spectacle.
On the track, the four trainers stood side by side in varying states of readiness. Mischa stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles like a fighter warming up for battle. Adalbert adjusted his gloves with calm precision, a faint smile tugging at his lips as though this, too, was just another performance. Lucien, however, was less composed. He stared at the track, then at Akuma, then skyward as though pleading with the heavens.
"…What am I doing here?" Lucien muttered in French, his shoulders slumping.
Adalbert gave him a sidelong glance, voice flat. "All for our trainees, yes?"
Lucien groaned, running a hand down his face. "This is madness."
"Eh, it's good warm-up," Mischa cut in, rolling his shoulders. "Better than sitting around drinking."
Akuma exhaled deeply, hands in his coat pockets. "…I should've just kept cooking."
Before he could complain further, Titan clapped him on the back so hard he nearly stumbled forward. "Go give them a show, Akuma!" the giant man roared before striding off toward the audience seats.
And then—
The speakers crackled. A microphone squealed.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" boomed Gold Ship's unmistakable voice, carrying across the courtyard. The Umas erupted in cheers instantly, stomping their feet and clapping in rhythm.
Goldship strutted to the middle of the infield, spinning the mic in her hand like a showman. "Welcome to the FIRST EVER TRAINER RACE! Who knew these old folks could even run, huh?!"
"WE'RE IN OUR TWENTIES!" Yelled all of the trainers but Goldship ignored them
The crowd howled with laughter. Akuma's eyebrow twitched.
"Now, let's meet our brave competitors!" Goldship began pacing dramatically.
She stopped before Lucien, throwing her free hand toward him with exaggerated flair. "Starting with number one! The Destructor! Le Déstructeur! Monsieur Lucien from—ehhh, I forget the name of his academy, but I'm sure you all know it already!"
Laughter rippled through the audience.
Gold Ship handed the mic to Symboli Rudolf, who smirked regally as if addressing a press conference. "Anything you want to say, Emperor?"
Rudolf cleared her throat. "…Snow them what you've got, trainer."
The pun dropped like a brick. Silence hung for a heartbeat—then the crowd groaned, booed, and laughed all at once. Lucien dragged his palm down his face in horror.
"Mon dieu…" he muttered, shaking his head as the Umas cackled.
Gold Ship cackled, patting his shoulder before moving on.
"Next up! Number two—the Maestro himself! The one who made everyone cry at a New Year's party! The tragic fool who brought us that play! Give it up for Adalbert!"
The spotlight swung to him. Rice, perched high on a table, cupped her hands around her mouth. "Do your best!!"
Adalbert turned his head toward her, eyes softening. He bowed with a flourish, hand over his chest. "For you, mein Engel, I shall make this race a waltz."
The crowd applauded at the charm, though Vodka groaned. "He's laying it on thick again."
"Up next!" Gold Ship nearly shouted, throwing her free arm high. "The Butcher! The Beast! The one, the only, Mischa!"
Mischa flexed an arm without hesitation, grinning wickedly as the Umas whistled and clapped. "That's right, take a good look! These muscles don't lose!"
Gold Ship shoved the mic toward Stay Gold, who lounged lazily in his seat. "What do you think, Stay Gold?"
He smirked, sipping his drink. "He'll win. Power like that doesn't lie."
The crowd roared again, pumping their fists.
"And last but not least…" Gold Ship's grin widened into something downright sinister. "…Our Headmaster. The one they call the Demon King of Ishigawa. Our favorite grumpy bastard. AKUMAAAAA!"
The Umas went wild, stomping and clapping. But before Gold Ship could deliver one of her classic mocking lines, the mic was snatched out of her hand.
McQueen stood there, eyes sparkling, posture completely un-McQueen-like. "LET'S GO AKUMA! YOU CAN DO IT!" she shouted like an overexcited sports fan.
The crowd blinked in shock at the shift in tone. McQueen, usually so elegant, was practically bouncing on her heels, fists pumping like a cheerleader.
Special Week immediately lunged for the mic. "No, let me cheer too—Akuma, fight on!"
Teio dove in right after. "No way, it's my turn!"
What followed was a full-on wrestling match between the three of them, all scrambling for the mic, tumbling into each other as the crowd roared with laughter. Gold Ship fell to her knees laughing, holding her stomach.
Akuma stood at the starting line, arms folded, expression flat as a board. "…Idiots."
Lucien glanced at him with a tired smile. "They adore you, mon ami."
"…That's the problem," Akuma muttered, staring ahead as the sun dipped lower and the snow glittered like fire beneath it.