The morning air still held the faint chill of the night before. The world was quiet, bathed in that dim half-light where the horizon hadn't yet decided whether to sleep or wake.
Akuma stood by the track, hands in his pockets, a faint smile resting on his face as his eyes followed the rhythmic motion of Oguri Cap stretching in the distance.
She looked better.
Stronger.
Her hair, silver as frost, swayed lightly each time she jumped in place, and that subtle shake of her head — that small, familiar habit she always did before a race — returned to her like a long-lost piece of herself.
"Won't be long till you're able to run again, huh?" Akuma said, the edge of pride slipping into his usually flat tone.
Oguri Cap glanced at him over her shoulder, her usual cool, unreadable gaze softening just slightly. "...I'm surprised how fast I healed."
"Might be because of the environment," he replied, crouching slightly as he picked up a small pebble and tossed it aside.
"Mhm. Tachyon-san was a great help," she added calmly.
Akuma's brow twitched.
"...I was talking more about the others, but yeah, sure. That could've helped too."
He sighed under his breath — not wanting to tell her that Tachyon had likely just used her as a convenient test subject for whatever "experimental recovery booster" she'd cooked up last week.
Still… whatever Tachyon did, it worked. And that was enough.
Akuma sat down on the bleachers, elbows on his knees, eyes lifting toward the horizon. The violet tint of night began to fade as the first rays of gold spilled over the track, stretching long across the grass. The silence of the moment was almost too peaceful — like a calm before one of Gold Ship's disasters.
Then Oguri's voice broke through it — quiet but certain.
"...Akuma-san, about what we talked about."
He didn't even look at her. "Save it."
Oguri blinked.
Akuma stood, brushing the dust off his coat before turning back to her. His expression was soft, but there was something firm in his voice when he continued, "Until you can finally run again. I want you to keep making memories here — real ones. And when you're ready, then decide if you truly want to leave or stay."
He smiled faintly, the morning light catching his face. "I want those memories to become part of the reason why you run."
Oguri Cap stared at him for a moment.
Her cool, sharp eyes — the kind that could read the distance of a finish line in a blink — softened, just enough for the warmth beneath to show.
"…Mhm."
It wasn't much, but from her — it was enough.
A faint breeze carried through the track then, sweeping the quiet away, and with it came voices — loud, energetic, unmistakable.
"Sensei! You're here already!?"
Akuma turned just in time to see McQueen, Special Week, Machan, and Tachyon marching down the track, all in various states of morning disarray.
Machan waved wildly, her hair bouncing as she ran over first. "Akuma-san~! Morning!"
He smiled and reached out, giving her a small pat on the head. "Morning, Machan."
She beamed, tail wagging happily behind her.
McQueen, meanwhile, crossed her arms and puffed up her cheeks. "You didn't wake us up! How could you leave without telling your team!"
"I didn't leave anyone. I was invited," Akuma said calmly, glancing at Oguri.
All eyes turned toward her.
Oguri didn't even flinch. "I asked Akuma-san to come. I wanted him to see how much I've recovered."
Her tone was flat, cool, perfectly composed.
The others, however, reacted immediately — the collective awe practically visible as stars in their eyes.
"Wow… so cool!" Special Week gasped, hands clasped like she was watching a movie hero.
Machan nodded eagerly. "Right!? Oguri-san's always so calm and confident, it's like nothing can faze her!"
McQueen adjusted her hair and huffed lightly. "I'll admit, I'm curious too… she always looks so composed, even when things get hectic."
Tachyon leaned forward, her glasses glinting as she scribbled something into her notepad. "Interesting. I'm intrigued as well — perhaps her composure can be quantified! Oguri-san, may I examine—"
"—No," Oguri said flatly.
"—hmph, worth a try," Tachyon muttered.
By now, the four had surrounded Oguri like a pack of curious kittens. Akuma chuckled under his breath, sitting back down on the bleachers as the morning finally began to bloom around them — sunlight breaking through, laughter spreading across the track.
Oguri rubbed the back of her neck, clearly uncomfortable under the attention. "I don't really… think about it that much," she admitted quietly. "I guess I usually just… do what I want to do? Say what I actually mean?"
The girls leaned closer.
"I mean," Oguri continued, eyes half-closed as she thought aloud, "there's no need to get flustered if what you're doing or saying is what you really want, right? You don't have to worry about being embarrassed if it's honestly you."
There was a long pause.
Then—
"Whoa…"
"Ehhh, that's so deep…"
"She's so cool!"
"Beautiful mindset! I must replicate it!" Tachyon declared.
Oguri blinked, her usual calm expression wavering just enough to show the smallest blush. "I didn't mean it like—"
"Oguri-san's so composed even when she's wise!" Machan said, sparkling eyes full of admiration.
Special Week grabbed her hands. "I wanna be like that too! Cool and confident!"
McQueen nodded dramatically. "Truly befitting of a star runner."
Tachyon had already pulled out a small recorder. "For science, state that again — but with slightly more philosophical resonance!"
Oguri Cap froze.
Akuma, from the bleachers, nearly laughed — a small, rare sound from him that even he seemed surprised by. He looked at the group — the Umas chatting, teasing, laughing, their morning training long forgotten — and let the sight sink in.
That warmth again.
He didn't say it out loud, but seeing them like this — unguarded, close, alive — made all the headaches worth it.
"Good grief," he muttered fondly.
And then, as if summoned by fate itself—
"I OVERSLEPTTTT!"
Teio's scream shattered the peace.
From the far end of the field, Teio came barreling toward them at the speed of a bullet train — hair a mess, still half-dressed in her training outfit.
"TEIO WAIT—!" Akuma tried to say.
Too late.
With the precision of a missile, Teio leapt into the air and latched onto his face.
"Sensei! I'm sorryyy!"
"GET OFF ME!"
The others immediately broke into laughter, the calm morning imploding into chaos.
"Not again!" McQueen shrieked, dashing over. "Teio! Off! Now!"
Machan giggled and followed, "Teio, if you're getting a hug, I want one too!"
"Machan, don't—" Akuma started, but she was already clinging to his arm.
Special Week grinned, "This looks fun! Me too!"
"Special—NO—"
Tachyon adjusted her glasses, humming thoughtfully. "Hmm… an interesting human structural test. I shall observe closely."
Then, ten seconds later: "Actually, I'll participate for data accuracy!"
Before long, Akuma was buried under a pile of laughing, clinging Umas. McQueen yelling something about propriety, Teio squealing with laughter, Machan trying to climb higher, and Special Week calling it "bonding training."
Oguri Cap, standing to the side with her arms crossed, could only sigh — a small, amused smile playing on her lips.
"…You're all hopeless," she murmured.
Adalbert's voice drifted faintly from somewhere behind the bleachers. "Ah, the sounds of camaraderie in the morning — truly poetic!"
"HELP ME!" Akuma's muffled voice cried from the pile.
Oguri chuckled quietly. "You'll be fine Akuma-sensei."
And just like that, the new day began at Ishigawa Academy — with sunlight, laughter, and their headmaster pinned under five overenthusiastic Umas.