Chapter Text
The bed under her was soft. Frictionless. Impeccable. At the Mejiro estate, there wasn't anything built to be uncomfortable. Everything was 'better', entire mattresses with more threadcount and fancy technologies than the Tracen computer lab, fancier food, masterwork furniture, even a specially commissioned track out in the grounds with the finest garden within the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. It was simply the result of needing everything to be befitting of The Mejiros.
It was class. Pastiches of every great there every was, the sort of thing you'd imagine after reading one of those historical Eclipse Umadramas you'd find in the marked down bin at the bookstore. And here was her little corner of it all, a room big enough to be a Tracen classroom just for her and whatever she wanted to store in it. Wallpaper stretching up the walls in long gaunts of pattern. A four-poster bed with curtains, drapery and all of the works of what nobility used to have.
The building was older than the Japanese electric grid, built and refurnished and westernized ten times over in the past twelve generations. Which allowed for her to have an artisan, and a somewhat odd electrical socket to plug her little charger brick into for her phone. Which was running a little low on power because of… well, her talking to Helios all night and falling asleep on call.
She stretched her arms up into the perfectly conditioned air. It was all at an utterly inoffensive temperature. Neither too hot, not too cold, just. Maybe a little stuffy. Or not. There was proper ventilation, with as much oxygen and freshness as possible for something indoors.
Everything was just built for comfort, with how she was able to take a dozen steps into the room and feel no closer to the exit than she was before. With walls stretching so far and so large that they clung to the ceiling, matching the height of maybe two or three floors of a regular building.
She dragged herself all the way to the little table where she kept her electronics attached to a series of extension cords. Her phone soon joins her laptop and her camera, piling on in a little stack of digital modernity against the sheer age of the hand-woven carpet beneath her. Everything that mattered to her little life, barely a smidge in her own room.
Well, it wasn't everything. She had her clothes and her gramophone and her record collection, and all the little trinkets that Helios have her that she keeps in the dorm. But-
It was the part of her life she lived in.
Her phone lit up with the usual ringtone for the one girl she'd always pick up on. That silly pop hit Helios did for one of her race promotion ad-reads. 'We are the winner Umamusume~!'
Beeeeeeep.
"Palma-chan~" A giddy Helios calls out to her, as the first rays of dawn-lit sunlight breech through her curtains. "Sleep well? I heard you on the call just go dead silent last night no cap and thought you fell asleep on me!"
"I was, Helios." she couldn't help but smile. It was so bright out today. "Sorry about that."
"It's chill~! You have any fire dreams last night? When I woke up I thought my brain was totally cooking with the race I was about to win~☆ Didn't that fortune-tella girl say something about dreams being omens? Maybe this means I'll totally mog everyone on my next run!"
"I think if you stick to the practice schedule, that's definitely possible." Palmer nodded. "Just keep up the good vibes~"
"Yep, that checks out!" Helios giggles, "Maybe I'll be good enough for Ojou-sama to notice my rizz for her…!"
"…you're already more than good enough to get a girl's heart, y'know."
"But I want her heart! Ruby-sama's heart." A pining sigh comes out of the other end. "She's the girl that matters to me."
…
"I know." the words force themselves out of her lips. "I'm sure you'll get there eventually! Just a little more time."
"Mhm. Well, enough with my downer vibes! Let's talk about something fun! You got plans? I feel like being with my beloved Palma-chan today~ ☆" A relentless invitation.
What could she even say to that?
What could her brain tell her than the words Helios would love to hear?
"I'd love to hang out. Where' you thinking of bumming around in?"
Her heart could not beat any louder. Her smile could not be wider.
The bittersweet taste in her lips could not be stronger.
"I saw this cafe on Umasta earlier and it's soooooo cute! We have to go!"
"How about after lunch? I'm supposed to have breakfast with my family today."
"That's cooooool with me!" she could imagine Helios doing her little wink. "I think I'll get ready for the day myself~"
"Oh. I- I'll see you later, then!" Palmer puts on a smile. "Bye! ☆"
"Weiiii~ ☆"
Boooooooop.
The screeching halt of transmission reaches her ears. And it's back to the silence of the room. Her steps dampened by the soft fabric of carpet and her world lit up by the faint tendrils of light that blow out of the wavering curtains. Her face was still warm. It's okay. It- it's okay. Right, Palmer? You're a-okay. Just need a little bit of a pick me up.
She slaps her face with her hands twice. It barely stings. Might as well start the morning. She grabs a barely acceptable outfit out of her cabinet, the least offensive shades of modern tones in the wardrobe, and heads to the bathroom, to freshen up, of course.
Opening the door, she finds herself greeted by a room only marginally smaller than a low-rise apartment.
It's warm. The entire room's plumbing was filled with pressurized heat and kept a nice sort of comfort to the place. Marble lined the so-called porcelain throne, and the bathtub is a size or two larger than her full height. The water was already prepared, well before she came in, and it was a luxury she didn't particularly dislike. All her usual products were stocked and- well maintained, tiling fully cleaned and not a single thing out of place. Perfection she didn't ask for that was always ready for her to enjoy.
Her reflection stared at her in the mirror. Barely any bed hair today. That's nice. She looked perfectly acceptable. Passable. Normal. Ordinary.
She was Palmer. The brown-haired, casual, upbeat Umamusume. Mejiro Palmer, part of that long line of girls that did what she did, and did it well.
…yeah.
Hot water ran across her hands. Shampoo in her hair streamed into the tub.
Moments let her skin drench a little with all the warmth of mild-heated water. The dust and oil of a long night's sleep simply dissolving into the sheer volume of soap and water.
Cold, then hot, then cold again.
What was there not to love about a good soak?
What was there at all…
She dried herself off.
Her new clothes were slightly less informal, slightly more stuffy, but still charming all the same. The usual Palmer-type vibe that she wanted to exude. Some sunscreen on all her exposed bits, and a little bit of makeup to make up for a little strangeness here or there on her face…
A sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it. Just keep on going.
She leaves the safety of her porcelain domain, and heads back into her room. The bed somehow remade in the little while she was away, and her smile weakening with the moment. Breakfast. Morning food. If only she could just hop on over to Helios' side and…
Mejiro Palmer, Mejiro Palmer.
What was wrong with her, really?
She stared down those double doors marking the entrance into the hallway. Large handles, an impressive stature, the anticipation stuck behind those velvet-lined doors reminded her of those they had back at Tracen. It was lined, of course, with the same regal color that defined everything she touched here. The same weight. The same gravity.
Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, today.
Her hand could barely tug down the handle without shaking. But she did open it. So, that's a start.
She politely closed it behind her as she wandered the halls she had always found herself in. The ones with uma-proof floorboards reinforced with a thin layer of replaceable lacquer in case any young lady of the house decides to start using her full strength on the old wood below them. The ones with all carpetry and the vasery, and the relentless march of history that decorated every sightline she could stare down. Not a single space of the wall was left untouched, fully-lined in portraits of every Mejiro girl that mattered. The founders, the record-setters, the women who set in stone and legacy exactly what running should be.
It was the definition of gracefulness, the coveted elegance of every step and mid-step that kept the line going.
Like her mother, and her mother's mother, and the matriarch herself before that. And here she was, in sneakers and a pair of high cut jeans, to stand amongst the women who made it in dresses and beauty. The cultivation of traditional elegance of little concern to her sense of taste.
Palmer found it hard to care about it. Well, she did care, just. If she were- If- If she were. Or if she was, or if she had, or if she did. In the hypothetical case where she was someone like McQueen or Ryan or Dober or Bright or- or anyone else. Then, perhaps she'd just, be spot on. Another pride of the family.
There had to be a black sheep, anyways.
The walls around her got more modern, the faces starting to resemble people she had at least talked to every now and then. And her steps softened entirely as she approached the dining room.
A new canvas. A new figure.
She saw purple.
Purple hair, purple tail, the smooth straight lines and the proper care of each curve. All dressed up in that stunning white racewear of sheer Mejiro regality that was so blindingly luminous and pure as to almost shimmer off the paint. The actress of the turf demarcated by blue accents pinned and buttoned with gold. Her facial expression just, there, smiling with grace, as if the world would bend to the will of a real champion, with a legacy so prominent that it had added nine graded wins to the Mejiro purse.
"Palmer?" McQueen waved her a pleasant hello, wearing a neat white blouse with a lovely ribbon across her neck. As pristine and elegant as always. "Please don't stare to much at my portrait… It's a little embarrassing to have my face just plastered around, but with me retiring soon and everything…"
"She insisted, I presume?" Palmer smiled back. It was only polite. "It's fine~ She always cared a lot about memorializing all of our achievements anyways. You look stunning in yours, anyways."
A small self-satisfied laugh came out of McQueen's lips. "Thanks! I'm glad that the posing worked out well, I racked ideas with Dober for hours before we settled into leaning into the whole 'Actress on the Turf' thing."
"Isn't that nice~" Ryan came jogging in behind McQueen, the short-haired tomboy somehow still exercising without breaking a sweat, not a single drop leaking through that hastily thrown-on t-shirt and gym shorts. "You deserve it the most out of the rest of us, for sure."
"Yeah…" Palmer pushed open the dining room door. "You do." Her head nodded rather absent-mindedly. McQueen wasn't a bad person at all. She just- had to give a couple complements. "With all your Mejiro vibes and everything, it's only natural that such a G.O.A.T like yourself pops off this much."
"Girls…!" A nice little blush placed itself on the girl's face as they entered. "You're really too nice."
An older voice chimed in. Lady Matriarch herself, sitting at the head of the long table. "They are both perfectly correct in their assessment." A gaunt smile placed itself on her face, "You are an exceptional Mejiro, the bright line that the younger girls should seek to emulate. Your portrait serves the same function as the rest of them. To imbue the pride and honor of Mejiro into all of us."
"That means we like! Love you, McQueen!" Ryan came in for a hug.
Palmer didn't hesitate to join in soon after. "She's the most Mejiro out of the rest of us, for sure."
"We still should eat, though." McQueen interrupted, squeezing herself out of everyone's grasp.
"W-wait!" A smaller Mejiro rushed into the arms of McQueen. The ever-lovable, Dober, dressed up in Mejiro colors and everything. As usual for the young girl. Did a younger Palmer ever have a phase like that? "I love you too, McQueen! You're just so graceful and wonderful and- dazzling!"
"Everyone loves McQueen," Palmer giggled out as she sat down. Perhaps it was nice to be loved. "That's our G.O.A.T. right here."
McQueen tried to bite back, "The greatest of the Mejiros would still be-"
"It's your time in the sun, dear." Grandmother interrupted. "Let's all have our breakfast, as I presume we all came here to eat, after all?"
"Of course, Grandmother." Everyone replied.
Mejiros scuttled themselves into their seats and an entourage of maids unveiled their first course. Western, and a hint of sweetness, fluffy deluxe pancakes, befitting of a Mejiro. Or well, everyone knows it was for McQueen.
Palmer liked pancakes too. She wasn't like, the biggest fan of them, but she was a fan, and that had to count for something. Each bite between her lips with that slight crunch before that chewy mix of sweet deliciousness that lingered just enough before the next one created the necessary conditions to be able to enjoy cutting up stacks of tasty flour and syrup and whipped cream. It filled her stomach, and it was basically a meal and dessert all in one. It was good. It slapped.
She left soon after finishing her meal, politely bowing her head to the Matriarch without much reservation on the old lady's end. There were other things that such an important person needed to bother with. Like other, more important things.
"Be sure to be here again by dinner. We'll be celebrating all of our family's recent wins with a celebratory ball." Grandmother spoke after wiping away some remnant pancake crumbs from her lips with a fine cloth napkin. "Review the anthem as well, we'll be singing it later."
"Of course, Grandmother."
Her steps could not have walked out at a faster pace. Not without being rude. Which is her best approximate of the most asymptotically polite speed of 'perhaps I needed to go to the bathroom' walking speed. Reaching the exit, the hallway, with lines that stretched further than she could see, with portraits that radiantly cemented in the family's pride, with the silence of sheer history and expectation, gave her the breath of fresh air she had needed. There was nothing wrong with eating with everyone else. There was nothing wrong with McQueen or Ryan or Dober or Grandmother. Nothing wrong with them at all.
She just. Yeah. She just. She-
There were feelings in her. Stupid, complicated, feelings.
She was always good at getting away from them, if anything else.
And maybe she really needed to get out of this house.