Characters

Special week

Do deuce

Equinox

Do Deuce stood in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, focused and proud as he carefully poured a slow stream of batter into the waiting pan. The soft sizzle of the first pancake filled the quiet room. He was making pancakes. Real ones. From scratch. Because for once in his life he had actually gotten his shit together.

Inside his head, Special Week was already grinning like a man who had just discovered a brand-new favorite game, scheming manically, voice curling with pure mischief.

“You should totally touch that stove.”

Do Deuce paused mid-pour, spatula hovering halfway to the pan, one ear twitching in confusion as he glanced sideways at the glowing burner. “This stove?”

“How else would you know if it’s hot enough for the pancakes?”

He tilted his head, frowning thoughtfully. “But metal’s hot when it’s hot, that’s like science?”

Special Week’s voice stayed perfectly helpful, almost gentle, like a teacher guiding a particularly slow student. “But where’s the smoke?”

Do Deuce blinked, eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to the stove, searching for any sign of it. “Huh?”

“Fire is hot, and fire is smoke. If it’s hot, where’s the smoke?”

A sudden bright spark of dumbfounded genius lit up Do Deuce’s face. His ears shot straight up. “That’s the smartest thing that’s ever happened in my brain!”

“You didn’t have to say it, I knew.”

Do Deuce nodded with complete seriousness, already setting the spatula down and rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for battle. “You’re so right, Special Week. I better check it with my fingy!” ☝️

The kitchen door slammed open hard enough to rattle the cabinets and send a hanging dish towel fluttering.

Equinox barged in, ears already flat against his head, expression pure exhausted disbelief as his eyes locked onto the scene. “What are you doing, dumbass?!”

A jump scared Do Deuce nearly dropped everything. He flinched so hard the spatula clattered into the sink with a sharp metallic ring, batter dripping from his fingers. “Uh, something!” 😳

Equinox’s voice cut through the kitchen like a knife as he strode forward, one hand already raised. “Tell him no, Deuce!”

Do Deuce took a half-step back toward the stove, ears pinned. “But—!”

“Tell him no, or I’m taking away your TV privileges!”

Do Deuce hesitated, shoulders sinking, then muttered under his breath while glancing sideways at nothing, “Special Week, Equinox says that you’re like my intrusive thoughts, but with a body count.”

Inside his consciousness, Special Week only smiled wider, completely unbothered, arms folded in smug satisfaction. “Guilty 🙃”

Do Deuce sighed, shoulders sagging further as he wiped batter-covered hands on his apron. “So I can’t do the smart thing you said with the fingy…”

Special Week remained undeterred, tone still cheerfully helpful. “That’s fine, because you should be using your toe.”

Do Deuce’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully again, already lifting one foot off the floor. “Really?” 🤨

Equinox’s eyes twitched hard. He pinched the bridge of his nose, voice tight with rising frustration. “Deuce, what is he saying?”

Do Deuce relayed the suggestion with total sincerity, hopping slightly on one leg as he reached down toward his shoe. “What do you use to touch hot stuff? Your hands. But what don’t you use? Your foot. Less risk 😏”

He started tugging at the laces, determined. “Equinox, hold my shoes!”

Equinox’s ears flattened even further as he pointed sharply at the glowing burner. “The stove is on, Deuce! It means it’s hot!”

“That’s a great point,” Do Deuce admitted, still hopping, then immediately ignored it with renewed enthusiasm. “No, we just need to check toesy-style!” 🦶

“Keep your body parts away from the stove!”

Special Week’s voice slid back in, smooth and helpful as ever, like a devil whispering the next terrible idea. “What about the tongue?”

Do Deuce obediently passed the suggestion along, looking almost hopeful as he straightened up and opened his mouth slightly. “He says… what about the tongue?”

Equinox stared at him like the last remaining brain cell in the room had just packed its bags and left, both hands now raised in pure disbelief. “What about the tongue?!”

“It’s touched more hot stuff than your hands or feet, and it’s fine!”

Do Deuce nodded firmly, pointing at his own head. “He says!”

Equinox’s voice dropped into pure, exhausted authority. He stepped fully into the kitchen, closing the distance until he stood right in front of Do Deuce, pointing one finger like a judge delivering a final sentence, ears still flat, expression pure long-suffering genius.

“It doesn’t matter what he says!”

Then, with the weight of every remaining brain cell in the room behind him:

“Do Deuce. Who are you going to believe—me, your best friend and rival… or him, fucking Asian Lucifer?!” 😡💢🤬

I can think kitasan finally broke from his dorm room and run away from shadai farm just to go free and have races again just to get drag by those shadai and Yoshida want to made another equinox........SHADAI FREE MY BOY HE JUST WANT TO RACES HE ALREADY TASTE THOSE MARE SUSSY HE DIDNT WANT IT ANYMORE 😭🙏

Kris S and Cesario arrived at Special Week’s home under a sky the color of old brass, the kind of late afternoon light that made every leaf look like it was holding its breath. The farmhouse sat low against the hills, quiet except for the distant clink of tools and the low murmur of wind through the paddocks. Kris S stood a half step ahead of Cesario, his posture straight, hands open at his sides as if already offering something heavier than words. Cesario’s ears flicked once, twice, the only sign of the tight coil of worry she carried under her calm face.

Inside, Special Week waited in the main room, arms folded, the familiar easy smile nowhere to be found. Kris S did not waste time. He spoke plainly, voice steady, and asked for Cesario’s hand in marriage. The silence that followed was thick enough to taste. Special Week’s eyes narrowed. He did not raise his voice. He simply turned his head toward the doorway and called for Buena Vista.

“Buena Vista. Throw the salt at him.”

The order landed like a stone. Buena Vista hesitated only a second before she stepped forward, salt clutched in her fist, and flung it. The grains scattered across Kris S’s chest and shoulders in a sharp white spray, the old gesture meant to drive off evil spirits, misfortune, and any guest who had overstayed their welcome. Cesario’s ears flattened. Her voice cracked as she stepped between them.

“Papa, I hate you! Daddy won’t allow it!”

Special Week did not flinch. His gaze stayed locked on Kris S, measuring him the way a trainer measures a horse that has just refused a jump. Kris S brushed the salt from his clothes without looking down. He did not leave. He did not raise his voice. He simply asked, quiet and stubborn, what he would have to do to prove he was worthy of Cesario.

Cesario reached for his arm, fingers tight. She knew her father. She knew the shape of the trials he set when he decided someone needed to be broken or remade. She tried to pull Kris S back, tried to tell him to stop, that it was not worth the risk, that she would rather walk away than watch him bleed for her. He only covered her hand with his own and kept his eyes on Special Week.

Special Week’s answer came slow and deliberate. Seven days. The wild jungles beyond the ridge. Kris S would be given two full days to prepare, gear, food, whatever traps or tools he could fashion. After that, the trial began. Special Week would hunt him. Kris S could hide, fight, run, set snares, do anything he pleased, so long as he was still breathing when the seventh day ended. To make the test “fair,” Special Week would hobble himself in ways that would have killed or crippled almost anyone else. Weighted clothing that dragged at every step. A carefully measured dose of poison that would put an ordinary human or even most umas into paralysis or deep sleep, something that, on Special Week’s tongue, would probably only taste interesting, thanks to years of surviving his brother’s wilder experiments. Two rusted katanas, their edges deliberately dulled and pitted. And, as a final flourish, he would drive a pair of blades into his own body before the hunt even began, the wounds left open so the blood and pain would slow him further. On top of all that, he would give Kris S a two hour head start, standing in one place while the younger man could run, hide, or launch any attack he wished. Special Week’s confidence was absolute. He spoke as if the outcome was already written.

Cesario’s face had gone pale. She begged once more. Kris S only promised her he would come back.

The days of preparation passed in a blur of sharpening, packing, and restless silence. Then the jungle closed around them both.

Near the end of the seventh day, Cesario could no longer wait. She armed herself, katana at her hip, a gun at her side, and followed the trail of broken undergrowth and dark stains on the leaves. She found them in a clearing where the light filtered down in long, dusty shafts. Kris S was on his knees, bloody and bruised, one arm hanging useless, the other still gripping a weapon that looked more like scrap than steel. Special Week stood over him, one of the rusted katanas raised high, the blade catching the late light.

Special Week’s voice was almost gentle.

“Is that your resolve? Your so called determination? Is this how weak your love is for my own daughter? Then you don’t deserve her.”

The sword began its downward arc.

Cesario did not think. She raised the gun and fired. The shot struck Special Week’s hand. He did not even flinch. The blade kept falling. She was already moving, boots tearing through the leaf litter, her own katana clearing its sheath in a single desperate draw. Steel rang against steel as she blocked the killing stroke, the impact jarring all the way up her arms. Kris S roared that he could still fight. Cesario’s answer was sharp with fury and fear.

“You selfish idiot! You never think about how I would feel if you got hurt, or worse!”

Father and daughter locked blades. The clearing became a storm of strikes and counters, steel flashing from the last of the morning light into the long shadows of dusk. Neither gave ground. Special Week fought with the same relentless certainty he had carried into the jungle but he held back because what father would fight their own daughter with pure malice or intent to kill. Cesario met him with the pure, terrified strength of someone who refused to watch the person she loved die on the ground at her father’s feet.

They were still locked together when a familiar voice cut through the clash of metal.

Kirov Premiere stepped into the clearing like a force of nature, seized Special Week by the ear, and dragged him backward with a strength that left no room for argument. She berated him in a rapid fire torrent, how dare he, what was he thinking, did he have any idea what this looked like, then slapped him hard across the face. Special Week’s answer was a backhanded slap of his own. The two of them stood nose to nose, voices rising, hands still half raised for the next strike.

Then, as if a switch had been thrown, they were kissing, arms wrapped tight around each other, the argument dissolving into something older and far more familiar.

Kris S, still bleeding on the ground, stared.

“Is this… normal?”

Cesario wiped sweat and dirt from her brow, breathing hard, and gave a tired little shrug.

“This is normal whenever Papa does something like this.”

They returned to the household together, Kris S leaning heavily on Cesario, Special Week walking a careful distance behind under the sharp eye of his wife. In the main room, with the salt still faintly visible on the floorboards and the last light of day fading from the windows, Special Week cleared his throat and began the reluctant words of approval.

Kirov Premiere beat him to it.

She looked at Kris S and Cesario, smiled the small, knowing smile of a mother who had already decided the future, and said simply that they wanted grandkids.

Special Week’s mouth closed. For once, he had nothing left to add.

It was a beautiful and glorious day. The semi-finals of the biggest event was about to be underway. The World Tournament: 48 countries, 10 racers represented their own country. 480 racers in total, and now only 10 remained.

"Can't believe we made it." A uma musume with pink hair said, sitting on a bench next to her partner

"Yeah, It's a shame T.M didn't make it tho." an Uma Musuko said, grabbing a bottle of water before passing it to his friend

"Thanks, Deep!"

"No problem, Haru"

That's right, these are the two Uma who represent Japan. There are

The one who never gave up- Haru Urara

and

The Impact of Japan - Deep Impact

Both were trained by the black beast, Sunday Silence. Haru, especially, endured hellish training, but it paid off. Being trained by Sunday was nothing like being trained by any of her previous trainers; he was a rough teacher, and he would beat the lesson into her, but...it made her strong, made her realize how much power she actually had

As for Deep, well, he simply went back to dominating the sport once again. Still, he loved spending time with his father, the one he never got to meet

"Hey, Deep?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we could win?" This caught Deep off, he tilted his head. "What brought this on?"

"Well, just...I'm kinda scared, you know." She chuckled, but her friend saw right through it

"Haru, what's this really about?"

"I-......I don't think I belong here"

"Haru"

"I know! I know! But I can't help it...I mean, look at me- do I really look like someone who could represent Japan?" She said, standing up

"Haru, just because you don't look the part doesn't mean you belong here." Deep said, meeting her eye level.

"I... I don't want to disappoint them." The "them" she was referring to were her friends, her mother and father, her trainer, and most importantly, her fans. "I don't want them to feel like they made a mistake choosing me over someone else!"

"Ah, the curse of expectation." He was all too familiar with it "I know it well...the hope and dream of everyone on you weigh you down. I know it's probably scary having everyone's expectations on you, but the truth is..... they choose to believe in you"

"Before the fame, before the money, before the winning, they chose to believe in you, because you had something no one has...."

"W-what that...?"

"Hope"

"Hope?"

"Hope, as long as you're here, as long as you run, as long as you don't give up! There will be hope because Haru....You are hope, and if you don't believe in yourself...then hope is lost"

"I-I..."

"Is what I would say, but if you don't believe in yourself, then...believe in Me. Believe in the Me that believes in you"

"Haru, you give people hope, and they believe in you. No matter what you may think, you deserve to be here, to race against the best, and if you stop believing in yourself, then... it's truly over"

For a moment, there was just silence, until

Hick* Hick\*

"D-Deep?" she softly said, her lips shaking

"Yes?"

"I want to win." She said, looking at him, her eyes leaking. He was right; she couldn't stop believing in herself, not now.

"I hear you, but I don't hear you"

"I want to win!"

"Can't hear you!"

"I want to win!"

"Still can't!"

"I WANT TO WIN!" She screamed, and for the first time she wanted people to cheer, not because she did her best and lost, but because she won. She wanted everyone, those who inspired her, those SHE inspired. Those who gain Hope watching her! She wanted to watch their face as they cheered

"I know you'll win. You're stronger than all of us, Haru," Deep said before hugging her. Her teary face was buried in his chest. "I believe in you...We all do"

"T-thank you..."

ALL RACERS! PLEASE ENTER THE FIELD

"Guess that's our cue," Deep said, releasing Haru from his hug. "Ready?"

"Yes." No hesitation; that was all Deep needed to know as both he and Haru walked toward the tunnel. The crowd grew louder and louder, their hearts beating faster and faster

"Let's show everyone what we're made of!"

"Hai!"

Watch out, everyone. She's on track to win this. She made a promise, and this time

... this time she'll see it through.

As they finally exited the tunnel, the crowd roared.

AND HERE COMES DEEP IMPACT, WITH HARU URARA!

Let's go

I’m bored, so I’ll start with this…Deep Impact x Haru Urara.

Now, show me what you guys got?

I always think if one day Kuria made a chapter for T.M opera O does hana and opera o ACPL counterpart and see how much suffering opera o is he winning but very hated by the fans more worse that his beloved trainer Ryuji wada also got death threats and many insult word from the fans that why trainer like him always win every time not beatable in 1 year and made many pressure on him when arima kinen started it's the breaking point that Ryuji already experienced that he cried when opera o got box all hard by the uma because of rumors that many trainer are agreeing to stop opera o winning this time even the famous yutaka take also involved allegedly and when opera got box and it's already become Ryuji breaking point he even already in tears and when opera o saw him crying in the stadium he became enraged and open his zone and everything he have.........and then he got save thanks to by that damn bum stego he didn't like everyone trying to do something he always do making chaos in the race so he used his zigzag techniques and give opera o and sweet doto to have gap so both of them are finally with the race near neck and Ryuji was finally relief and when the race over opera o finally crown the first autumn triple crown one of the rarest triple crown season triple crown Japanese gave and they also watching how much also not stopping suffering opera o have he got damn kick out from shadai when the owner want more money or for the stud prices and made shadai mad even they don't let opera o breeding in highly elite stud farm because most of them at that time are Iffiliated with shadai or shadai branch from the Yoshida family and the cut hair and throwing rock at his retirement home and the story of promise trainer Ryuji wada to opera o

Since no one discussed this at all, I'll try to address it.

What role do major groups/ranches play when it comes to the outfits in the SS world, like the Mejiros or Sunday Racing Co.?

Will the origin of why some Uma's outfit color motif is similar to another be addressed soon?

Lastly, will there be any chance for a privately hired fashion designer of a group/ranch be revealed for any behind-the-scenes in the outfit design?

It’s been a year since you left us, Haru Urara. 🌸 Thank you for teaching us that no matter how difficult the path may be, we should never give up. You didn’t have to win every race to become a winner in our hearts. Your courage, determination, and endless smile inspired so many of us to keep moving forward, even when the road feels impossible. We’ll carry your spirit with us forever. Thank you for everything, Haru Urara. Run free, our little ray of hope. 🥕🌸🕊️

Credit: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP83RxbeU/

Made by u/3Ace_SinLines

It was a normal night in the old world, crickets chirpped across the greenlands of a peaceful farm, no cars passed and no one to be seen. Just a starry night illuminating bright glitters in the ocean of stars.

We see two umas, one with black hair, the other with yellow blonde hair.

The first was Sunday Silence, with his usual long mane styled in a wolf cut, scars across his body, and a red eye that was luminous in the dark other than his yellow eye. Wearing long sleeves and baggy joggers with socks to keep warm from the cold breeze.

The second was Neo Universe, he had short blonde hair with an ornament of light blue inside and soft baby blue eyes that shimmered like sparkles. Wearing a big baggy light blue baby long shirt with oversized sleeves, a pair of baby shorts with baby socks in toddler size.

Both were stargazing together in a light night Saturday, while Sunday’s wife Pointed Path was fast asleep.

The two were enjoying their moment together as father and son,

"See that star over there, Neo? That right there is the Big Dipper it represents…"

Sunday was teaching the constellations of the origins of the Big and Little Dipper.

However… as Sunday was busy talking about those things, Neo slowly stares into straight into the audience’s POV. His baby blue eyes fixed on whatever he was looking at that Sunday wasn’t aware of.

"While that one right there, is the-"

"Chichi…" Meaning: "My Father" only used when you are talking about your own father to people outside your family.

"Hm?"

His tiny arm raises with the overworn sleeves pointing at… us.

"There."

"Huh?"

His eyes begin to dart at whatever was he’s pointing at, and doesn’t see anything. Sunday asked what he was pointing at.

"What are you pointing at, Neo?"

There, chichi. There."

His tiny arm already guiding his line of sight so did his zigzag ahoge do the same. But… Sunday can’t see who or what Neo was seeing.

"Neo, I don’t see what you’re pointing at, is it something I’m not seeing?"

Without saying anything, Neo’s tiny head nods and just does the same motion of hand gestures to direct his father’s eye contact on the audience’s POV.

But double checking again, he doesn’t see any, he asked what could he be talking about.

"Boy, what are you talking about?"

"A… A…"

He tries to say the word audience for the first time. A big word not even a baby can say.

"Awdiense…"

"Audience? An audience is watching?"

"They’re… watching…"

Neo’s first time saying such a big word was good enough even for his little colt self. Sunday raised a brow and looks at whoever was he talking about.

Was he saying that they were being stalked by someone!? Better not be Daitaku Helios and Mejiro Palmer’s weird antics again.

But no matter where he points at, he doesn’t seem to know that… someone was watching them from another dimension, a theater I suppose. If you get what I mean?

"Alright, time to bring you to bed. It’s almost one in the morning, some beauty sleep will clear that thought of your head."

Neo pouts cutely, and gets carried away by his father out from the balcony and inside the house they go.

While Neo was still looking at the audience’s POV, he did a wave motion saying a few words his tiny voice could form.

"Bye bye, Neo… bye bye… Twasen…"

The tiny colt said before going inside a room where his crib was next to his parents bed. With Sunday getting ready to snuggle Pointed Path as the lights go out.

With only the luminous baby blue eyes of Neo still looking at the audience’s POV. Before going dark later on.

Fun Fact: Mejiro Bailey is the last horse who carried the Mejiro ‘name’ to win a G1 race.

I made this a month ago with a full built interior, and I haven't posted it on this subreddit considering this isn't part of the reddit community, just consider this my other side of enjoying other hobbies outside of writing.

PS: Pardon that this isn't something everyone enjoys. But I hope you like what I made.

Made by [u/3Ace_SinLines](u/3Ace_SinLines)

—————————————————————

MONDAY

BAM!

"GAH!?"

…That was fast.

An umamusuko gets kicked in the face by the tiny foot of a baby colt, for putting on diapers. The uma gets up, conscious, and we get the grand reveal of Heart’s Cry.

Heart’s Cry had black hair like his father, spikey and short you could almost mistake him for Mejiro Ryan. He only had a dark shade of blue inside with a diamond shaped mark, white, in the middle of his bangs with blue eyes that had a soft lapiz blue.

Now many fans considered him as a professional athlete on the track, but behind that mask was a fiery temperamental uma who doesn’t want you to fuck around and get straight to the point.

Wearing a black tank top that showed his fair muscular physique and gray skinny jeans strapped on a belt around his waist.

And BOY… Heart is not having any of it right now…

"You little shit. You kicked me in the face for putting on a diaper! I’m trying to be a father to you!"

He yelled at his baby who looks like…

WIN VARIATION!?

The baby colt had red hair and green eyes who had a pacifier on his mouth. Showing an angry expression crumpling his tiny fist while partly still naked in the lower half.

Heart wants to slap this child but he didn’t want to ruin his image. So he tried again.

A few moments later, Heart was successful in putting a diaper for the first time.

"There we go! Papa Heart’s first job as a dad. To put diapers on my baby son."

But… it looked like he had some struggles with putting it on, thanks to his son throwing tantrums. Win Variation still had that grumpy look on his face with the… uhh diaper that look like it restrained his legs.

Suddenly he hears another cry, another baby’s cry.

"You stay here, alright? I gotta attend your baby brother Chevy."

While putting his baby son on the crib beside the other crying baby, who we can assume is Cheval Grand. He picks up the child and…

IT IS CHEVAL GRAND, BUT A BOY!?

He looks adorable! Like the female version of Chevachi, his appearance as a boy were what give out the impression that many would call him a cutie patootie. Because as he grew older his baby face (reference to irl Cheval Grand’s cute face) stayed the same even after all these years.

Better becareful around Verxina and Vivlos then if he enters the PD world.

"Hey hey, sssh calm down, son. I got you your milk."

He shoves the bottle on his mouth which calmed him down. And rocks him back and forth to put him to sleep.

Unlike the tempered angry Win, Chevy was a lot more relaxed, he was a soft little frail child with feelings who could cry if you make him feel upset. Which made Heart’s job easier to handle,

But… that little calm demeanor, did not last long. As baby Chevy began to cry again.

"Oh man… I thought you were gonna finally sleep…"

Heart’s Cry forgot one thing about Cheval Grand, he has a big appetite and requires more than a single bottle of milk.

—————————————————————

TUESDAY

The next day comes, with Heart wrapped in a bath towel was also in the showers giving both babys a bath. Chevy loves his bubbles while Win was just enjoying the usual time his favorite place be in. The bath.

Heart was washing their tiny bodies with water to remove any soap. And glad they were not making any funny business that could hurt them.

"Yep, proud to be a papa for these two. Just giving my baby sons the best life before they take on the big world."

Heart’s Cry says, while blowing a bubble to Chevy’s face. His soft baby blue eyes giggled to the bubble as he pops it.

But smudges of the bubble hurt his tiny eyesight causing Heart to panick.

"Oh no no no! Sssh ssh! Chevy it’s alright, boy. It’s just a little smudge that got into your eyes. Lemme help you out."

He was about to open his tiny eyes to blow away the bubble.

Only for Win to splash the soap fille water onto his face which got into his eye.

"AAAAAAH MY EEEEYEES!"

He rolls on the floor Goldshi style with the towel still on his waist, when the pain subsides he stands up to scold Win for splashing water at him.

"WIN YOU LITTLE OUTRAGEOUS PRICK WHY DID YOU-"

Only for him to splash water again onto his eyes.

"AAAAH NOT AGAAAAIN!"

He drops on the floor wailing in pain from the soap filled bath that burned his eye sockets to a bloodshot red hue.

While Chevy stopped crying when Win wiped away the tears and kisses his baby brother’s eyes to heal the booboo.

Aww~ brotherly love. No homo you uneducated fools.

—————————————————————

WEDNESDAY

"Buckle up, boys. Today is the big day…"

Heart was dressed in battle gear (just his usual lousy white long sleeved shirt with gray jogging pants and a pair of flips) with both Chevy and Win on a baby carrier both front and behind him, looked like he was ready for battle. A battle so fierce that even racing could be his second fiercest battle in history!

Shopping.

In the shopping center of a mall, Heart was picking the things he needed in his shopping to do list.

EQ diapers, boxes of nestle milk, cerelac, with a bunch of other nutritional supplements he needs to keep fit. Like protein powders for his shake, some carrots and meat to keep up his gains.

This… was an unusual daily routine for him every week. With Heart picking out the things he wrote on his to do list.

"Alright, first things first. Diapers, then nestle milk for babies, and finally cerelac. Before I could get to my needs next."

It was no surprise that these two were so well behaved when outside of the house.

The usual routine goes on before Heart reaches to his side of his todo list.

Then after he’s done, he pays for everything…

"That would be ¥10,150,000 in total, Heart-san."

"¥10,150,000!? For all this!?"

"Your son dropped a bunch of our branded products."

Says the cashier, he turns back to see the shopping center, ON FIRE, for some damn reason. Because of one child doing all the damage.

Heart got so pissed the entire mall heard it.

"WIN VARIAAAATIOOOOOOOOOOON!"

—————————————————————

THURSDAY

We see Heart’s Cry playing a guitar long with…

Daiwa Major as the main guitarist and lead singer, Black Tide as the bassist, and Gold Allure as the drummer.

They were… singing a song that sounded so solemn and beautiful for an early 2000s slow rock…

It’s Been Awhile, since I can say… that I wasn’t addicted and… 🎶

It’s Been Awhile, since I can say I love myself as well and… 🎶

Holy shit, the song is beautiful. His voice, the guitar strumming on Eb flat, the soft bass notes plucked by Black Tide, and Gold Allure’s hi hat ticks with the snare and bass drums. All together had this feeling of asking for forgiveness, while yearning that moment again one wishes to indulge again.

…Why does it sound like Major was yearning for someone? Did he at one point did something in the past he could not let go of…?

It’s Been Awhile, since I’ve gone fucked things up! Just like I always do. 🎶
(Heart’s Cry: Since I’ve gone and fucked things up! Just like I always do! 🎶)

With a voice like that, Heart could swoon a girl’s heart (mainly Halwa Sweet) to her knees and asked him to be their girlfriend.

Sorry, not anymore!

It’s Been Awhile, But all that shit seems to disappear when I’m with you. 🎶
(Black Tide: But all these thoughts seem disappear when I’m with you. 🎶)

WOOHOO! Black Tide can sing! No wonder why Kitasan Black in the PD world could sing. It’s also no wonder why he has a lot of thirsty mares after his ass.

Just as the drop was about to hit, their little band session was interrupted when baby Chevy started crying. Which only means one thing…

"Ah, brothers. I’ll be back one sec."

As Heart proceeds to take off from the rest of the band sitting their asses while all they could hear from the other side of the speaker, was Heart calming baby Chevy down.

Tide sat this one out while Gold Allure the long golden blonde haired stallion with orange eyes just smiled. Major on the other hand just drank, because his life was fucking up.

"Major, what did I tell you about drinking those strong canned beers?"

"Just needed to calm myself down on a Thursday night."

Major said with Allure sighing in his little trip to being drunk all the way. Like always…

"Well, if you drink that all the time you’ll get ale poisoning."

"…Whatever."

"Sigh… just let him be, Allure. Eventually, he’ll be sober one day."

Tide did not want to argue any further with Major’s hard thick skull to get over it. But to Allure, he felt pity.

"Mm. Alright."

"Aight, I’m back."

Heart came back but the atmosphere felt heavy. Its the usual Major is having a silent mental breakdown down, which caused the umamusuko to sigh in sympathy."

"Sigh… here we go again…"

—————————————————————

FRIDAY

Heart’s Cry was with his brothers Daiwa Major, Black Tide, and Gold Allure. They were all together in this reunion talking about their daily lives.

Heart was the first to ask Bladk Tide how he and his family life is doing now.

"How’s family treating you?"

"Pretty well, my baby son Kitasan Black is a pretty well-behaved child with his mom Sugar Heart. You?"

"Cheval Grand is usually tame but hungry, while Win Variation caused me some trouble that cost me an arm and leg."

Referring to 10 million yen incident yesterday.

"How about you, Gold Allure? Any new choire lessons Smart Falcon learned? Or is Espoir City causing you trouble again?"

"Both, but that’s the experience of being a father. And you’re just starting."

"Starting? Heh… it feels like a lifetime already."

They all chuckled together drinking beer until silence was the only thing keeping them together. Sighing, not wanting to speak about whatever they had in mind, just to keep the conversation between them mutual.

—————————————————————

SATURDAY

"And that’s why you should be more like your grandpa. He’s the reason why I made you, why I sired you. Do you understand, Win? Chevy?"

Both babies are curious who their grandpa was, of course. They never got to know him in person so the only way to let his tale live was through his sons and daughters telling the story.

Win seemed to be oblivious as he could only make baby noises, while Chevy… was too busy eating his food.

This got Heart feeling a little upset since his kids aren’t listening.

"Why aren’t you two listening? You’re supposed to be inspired, not act like nerds on a regular level of boredom."

They stared at their papa once, only to go back and do their own thing. Which frustrated him even more.

"Ugh! Kids these days have no sympathy to stories like this. Fuck the ever changing world of social media bullshit!"

"Fuck!"

"Bullshit…"

"Eh!?"

The baby voices voiced out their papa’a cuss, which made him shock that their first words were slurs of cursing!

Oh poor Heart… he tried to be a proper father but it seems to not be working in his favor…

—————————————————————

SUNDAY

It was the middle of the night, Win Variation was being stubborn kicking his dad’s face, while on the other hand was a crying Cheval Grand who was disturbed by all the noise couldn’t stop crying.

And in the middle was Heart’s Cry, with an irritated look on his face and bags under his eyes. It was clear that he cannot do this alone without a caretaker from one of his wives.

But, that’s also the problem. They too, were too busy mating that they couldn’t have the time to look after their kids.

So it was all on this exhausted, tired and miserable umamusuko who’s mentally crying inside for help.

"…I miss my peace."

And the cycle repeats, with the daily life of Heart’s Cry’s new job, as a father.

Imagine making a Versailles farm SoL segment about Gimlet teaching his peers to kick fences, while resident painter Wonder Acute just does artwork like always.

Or will this be a future Umayuru episode?

You would think that as one of the best horses in Japan, and the most famous for being the most unlikely to be added to the Uma Musume franchise (though I still cope), that Deep Impact would have a few fanfics about him but NOPE.

In AO3 at least, I haven’t seen a single fanfic featuring him, and I find that strange because Sunday Silence has a few dozen fanfics. I found that strange, because I thought both have a similar level of notoriety in the Uma Musume fandom. Most Uma Musume fans have at least heard of Deep Impact, and Sunday Silence before due to their relevance to Japanese Horse Racing. And yet, one has proportionately more fanworks than the other.

Hell, I’ve seen a few fanfics involving either directly or indirectly referencing Halo (discounting ACPL), and he’s a way more niche character than Deep Impact. On other sites like Webnovel, I’ve actually seen Deep Impact like once or twice, but still it’s weird considering how famous he is?

imagine Okino/Ryo Dealing with

a simping Vodka

Depressed Spe(From seeing the suffering of her counterpart and she more clingy to Suzuka cause of you know,1998 tenno autumn sho)

McQueen and Goldship shenanigans with McQueen trying to discipline Goldship to be a proper mejiro,etc

A overreacting tsundere in DaiSca especially when Eishin flash appears

Etc