Chapter 90: Spring Fan Appreciation Festival! Part 1

Valentine’s Day had passed, and March arrived. The bone-chilling cold had vanished, replaced by the erratic warmth of early spring—a cycle of three cold days followed by four warm ones.

As I trained, I noticed the student council and URA staff bustling more than usual—and then it hit me. There was an event coming up in mid-March.

The Fan Appreciation Festival. A massive event where general fans were invited into Tracen Academy to enjoy various performances and attractions. Held just before the spring G1 races and the Dubai World Cup, it was an inseparable tradition for umamusume—both as athletes and entertainers.

The festival was held twice a year: the Spring Fan Appreciation Festival and the autumn Holy Hoof Festival. Spring leaned toward athletic events, while autumn focused more on cultural activities. And with the URA involved, the scale dwarfed that of a typical school festival.

This year’s spring festival was shaping up to be even bigger, thanks to the URA and student council going all out. Rumor had it they’d expanded the venue to 1.5 times its usual size. Storage rooms were being repurposed for stalls, and even the vast parking lot was being converted into event space. Last year’s festival had been large too, thanks to the Third Twinkle Series Boom, but they’d never gone as far as paving over the parking lot. Then again, since all attendees were required to walk (bikes and cars were banned due to the umamusume), it made sense to utilize the space.

"Speaking of which, will the ‘Dubai Expedition Group’ be running an event at the festival? I’m part of Rigil, too..."

"About that—the URA wants to organize things by generation, like the ‘Apollo-chan group’ or ‘Suzuka-san group.’"

"Guriko, for real?"

"Yeah. Apollo-chan isn’t the only one without a team—there’s Meek-chan and Sei-chan too. Grouping them by generation would boost hype and feel fresh."

"...Rigil and Spica have always been strong, so I’ve heard their names a million times. This is fine."

"Meek-chan, that’s kinda harsh..."

The festival featured attractions organized by class or team—food stalls, haunted houses, and cultural exhibits, but also relay races, volleyball, and futsal, giving fans a chance to see umamusume shine outside of races.

For those of us with G1 wins or fan popularity, interaction—no, exposure—was mandatory. So, like it or not, we’d be roped into the athletic events.

With preparations eating into class time, it still didn’t feel real that fans would swarm the campus in a few days. I was helping out, but with Dubai looming, my focus was split.

Not that I was slacking—I’d give it my all when the day came. Once the decorations were up, the reality would sink in. Until then, training took priority!

And so, we of the Dubai Expedition Group trained fiercely until the festival began.

—The Day of the Spring Fan Appreciation Festival

Fireworks streaked across the sky like those at a sports festival, and Tracen Academy glittered with colorful balloons and banners. Fans had gathered en masse even before the gates opened, flooding in the moment the chime signaled the festival’s start.

Peering through the classroom window, I gasped with my friends. "Whoa, that’s a crazy crowd!" "Are the fans always this intense?!"

Rumor had it 10,000 people were lined up outside. Though the festival started at dawn, the main events were in the afternoon. At this rate, I wondered if the academy could even handle the numbers.

Fans streamed in like ants, grabbing flyers from umamusume at the gate before scattering. Some headed for the turf or grounds to secure spots for afternoon events, but 80% of the early crowd was here for the food stalls.

The academy’s entrance swallowed the sea of people. Thankfully, most fans were well-behaved—no shoving or running—but the sheer volume made the school building tremble.

"Whoa whoa whoa, this is insane!"

"Is Tracen Academy gonna collapse?"

"Chairman Akikawa’s got it covered."

"What kind of confidence is that? (But I get it.)"

The fans’ excitement, their laughter, the calls of umamusume handing out flyers or promoting stalls—it all sent my spirits soaring. More than the festival itself, I looked forward to connecting with fans.

Sure, we interacted regularly, but it was usually brief—online replies or quick meet-and-greets on the street. Today, we’d have real, unhurried conversations. The thought thrilled me. What if one of my frequent commenters showed up?

"Whoa, we’ve got a huge crowd! Dining staff and butlers, get ready!"

A receptionist umamusume yelled from the window, tension rippling through our class.

Our class’s attraction? A butler café (not a maid café). Several of us, including me and Guriko, would dress up and entertain fans.

"Man, I’m actually nervous."

"Not as bad as a G1, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Guriko and I bantered while adjusting our butler outfits. With her sharp, handsome features, Guriko looked perfect in hers. Meanwhile, my cute face didn’t quite match, so I leaned into a "cute butler" vibe instead.

I’d styled my bob cut with loose braids for a relaxed look, even adding braids to my tail for flair. Guriko’s overwhelming coolness dimmed my presence a bit, but oh well.

"Fans are coming!"

The receptionist umamusume called out, seating herself at a hallway desk to manage the flood. Guests poured into the classroom, taking seats at tables made of pushed-together desks (we’d run out of materials, but tablecloths hid the mess). With poised smiles, we greeted them.

"Welcome home, Master."

As entertainers, we wore masks—not literal ones, but personas. The embarrassment faded, leaving only the desire to delight the fans.

My first guest was a beautiful woman. The moment she saw me, she clutched her chest. "Ugh! The braids… too cute…!"

Stammering, she ordered coffee, then gazed around in satisfaction. After finishing her drink, she asked for a photo, which I gladly granted—keeping my tone refined, like Fujikiseki-san’s.

"Here you go! Take as many as you’d like!"

Cameras flashed relentlessly—at me, Guriko, the others. The shutter clicks filled the room.

But the fan service didn’t stop there. As the woman stood to leave, I pulled her close and whispered, "Master, how about a two-shot with me?"

Her eyes turned to hearts. She nodded, speechless—was she tearing up?

"Now, get in frame—say cheese!"

Arm around her shoulder, I snapped a few photos on her phone. She covered her mouth, trembling. Her joy made me want to spoil her more—but time was limited.

Nearby, Guriko had reduced another fan to tears, dabbing them away with a handkerchief. What a playboy.

My own guest was crying too. "Master, please don’t cry," I soothed. Between sobs, she spoke:

"Sniff… I’ve been your fan since your debut… I thought you were so pretty, so cute… When you won your G1, I was so happy, like it was my own victory… Sob… I’m so glad I kept supporting you…"

"—Thank you, Master."

"I’ll keep cheering for you! This photo… it’s going in my family treasure chest…!"

She left, overwhelmed. Had I messed up? I’d hesitated—should I have stayed in butler character, or let Apollo Rainbow shine through?

But… those tears were real. Her words came from the heart. She was happy. That was enough.

Still, with so many fans, individual attention was impossible. Today, this was the best I could do.

"Apollo-chan, two more guests coming in!"

The receptionist’s voice snapped me back to reality. With a deep breath, I turned to the next fans—ready to serve.

—Before we knew it, it was almost lunchtime.

The flow of guests had slowed, leaving some of us butlers and backstage staff with downtime. Seeing the lull, Guriko tugged at her tie and peeled off her white gloves.

"Man, that was way too many guests… I’m wiped."

"Well, Guriko, you were going all out with the fan service."

"You were too, Apollo-chan. …But yeah, exhausted or not, it was amazing. Understatement of the year."

"Agreed."

Though the event wasn’t over yet, I could confidently say we’d satisfied everyone. Female fans had clutched their chests, teary-eyed; male fans had devolved into flustered messes. Even the kids seemed enchanted. (Maybe I’m too cute—bad for their education, huh?)

The hairstyle change was a hit—fans loved the braids, and the "different vibe" worked in my favor.

The only miscalculation? Running low on coffee and cake from the overwhelming crowd. We’d even had to call in backup from Tracen’s cafeteria. If even Oguri Cap-proof kitchens struggled, today’s turnout was truly insane.

As the classroom relaxed into break mode, I slipped off my gloves too—until the receptionist started chatting with someone. Assuming it was a guest, I scrambled to gear up again… only for my trainer, Tomio Momozawa, to stroll in.

"Oh, Apollo. Had a free moment, so I dropped by."
"T-Tomio?! Why are you—"

Dressed sharper than usual in a crisp suit, hair perfectly styled, he radiate professionalism. Popular among trainers, he clearly put effort into his appearance.

"‘Why?’ Harsh. I’m your trainer—of course I’d check out my umamusume’s class event."

His gaze swept over my butler outfit. Unlike my white racing uniform, this was sleek black and dignified.

—The outfit itself wasn’t the problem. The issue was the butler café act. Using this scripted, refined tone with him? Mortifying.

But backing down now would be worse. Confidence was key—treating him like any other guest was the only way.

Cheeks burning, I guided him to a table with practiced grace.

"Welcome home, Master. What would you like to order?"

"The braids in your hair and tail? Great look. Super stylish and cute. Oh, coffee, please."

"Understood. Please wait a moment."

I fled to the back, fighting my wagging tail.

What is WRONG with him?! Everyone’s watching us!! Ugh, Guriko’s gonna tease me SO HARD later—STOP SMILING, ME!!

"Pff… ahem. One coffee, please."

"…Apollo-chan, was that your trainer?"

"Huh?! How’d you know?!"

"Your tail and ears are screaming it. Spill the details later~"

Even the backstage crew joined in the torment. Delivering Tomio’s coffee, I spotted Guriko grinning like a fiend. Infuriating. She’d be just as flustered if her trainer showed up.

"Here you are, Master. Your coffee."

"Thanks. The decorations are detailed, and the butler outfits are top-tier. Fans must’ve loved it."

Sipping his coffee, Tomio seemed unusually pleased. Knowing he was happy just seeing me made me want to prance—but I clenched my fists, resisting.

Keep it together. Butlers don’t grin like idiots—stoic or princely smiles ONLY.

"—Ahh. Great coffee."

"Thank you."

"You were taking photos with fans, right? Wanna snap one with me?"

"C-Certainly."

IS HE KIDDING?! EVERYONE’S WATCHING!! NOOO—

Screaming internally, I obliged. Trainer or not, he was a guest now. The first few shots were disasters—stiff smiles, blinking at the flash—but we eventually got a decent one.

"Apollo-chan’s trainer! Since there’s no one else, I’ll take your photo!"

"Oh, sure. Thanks."

Guriko, dropping character, volunteered. Trapped, I endured as she positioned us shoulder-to-shoulder against the "Butler Café" blackboard.

"Apollo-chan, smile~ Put some heart into it~"

I’m ending you later.

Vein throbbing, I forced a grin. The shutter clicked relentlessly, filling the folder with photos. Not that I minded—it’d be a nice memory, but—

"Thanks, Apollo. See you this afternoon."

The moment Tomio left, classmates swarmed me:

"You’re so into your trainer."

"How are you not dating yet?"

"Coward."

Thus ended the morning session…

—Or so I thought.

Right before lunch, Guriko’s trainer, Serizawa, arrived. Watching her turn into a stuttering mess? Karma. (What goes around comes around.)

……And let’s just say a certain chestnut umamusume who witnessed it screamed, "GYAAAAH—ROOMMATE DUO TOO PRECIOUS!!" before nosebleeding violently.