Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: STEP INTO THE FIRE [FOR] RUNNING IS OXYGEN [WHEN] THE SUN RISES
OR
A Coffee-Addicted Trainer's Orientation
Early July 20XX
Finally graduated AND passed the international trainer's license exam. It was four and a half years of hard studying, but the hard work's worth it. At least I found someone to help upgrade my student visa to a work one, so that one took a while.
Started my degree in Lexington, finished in Osaka. Not ba d... not bad at all. And I'm now a certified cleric! Even if Tokyo Tracen already has an army of medical staff at their beck an' call.
I'm glad I passed the license exam. I'd have ended up using my sports science degree to become a PE teacher or physical therapist if I didn't pass. Alternately, I could do something with my guitars I swear by the goddesses that the current textbooks are drier than hardtack. Also, Mom traded in her trainer's creds to be a prosthetist. She's always fantasized about making a real prosthetic arm straight outta mecha anime, though it's currently illegal to make prosthetic legs for stateside racers because of cheating concerns. Good to know that Japanese umas don't hafta worry about that.
On the off chance they order from Mom, they'll hafta pay extra for shipping.
I may have missed the deadline for on-campus housing, but at least I found an apartment somewhere in Kichijoji. I may not need to worry too much about my apartment being broken into, but I still need to paint some runes on my door... just in case. Don't want a student breaking my door just for sick laughs or if they're in their version of the time of the month. It shouldn't be too different from placing protection spells, I hope.
...maybe I oughta do that to my office door once I get one??
At least Mother's doing well as a lawyer. It's nice bein' able to alternate between callin' her an' Mom twice a week since they're both stubborn when it comes to work. Also, tickets to Japan aren't cheap.
As for my sisters, two of those have started their racing careers, but they still find a way to talk to me either online or via video chat when they're free. My non-racing sisters are doing just as well. Time differences are hella hard, but we've all managed to make it work.
Right now, I've just finished my interview with Tazuna and the Director. I got my badge, ID, a handbook, work tablet, and a fake wedding ring out of it. I'm glad the badge is not pink, or else I'd be dying inside more often. An open hand an' a freely given surname's like the human version of a pink ribbon, so I'm glad that Mom had the foresight to give me an uma name.
As for why my uma name's the way it is? Mom likes Pokemon an' Mother's crown name is Crystal. My sisters still have human names. It's an either way kinda deal, but my human name is my true name. Not sure if my sisters have decided on their true name, but I'm still making my trainees deal with it.
Obviously, I'm not allowed to do the trainees. I'm just glad to find out from that interview that trainers can indeed defend themselves from their trainees and trainees aren't allowed to kill their trainers. I know I'm a freshly hired rookie, but I'm not dismissing the possibility of scouting two umas.
Better not invoke Murphy or else I'll end up bein' reverse-scouted by a fucking psycho.
Mom went through hellish training before and during her trainer days to make damn sure she's at least two times tougher and one-fourth weaker than umas. Also, stateside healthcare's a fucking bitch an' a half, so she's had to study healing magic an' she's made it clear that no one- not even an uma fucks with a healer.
Mom's happy that I'm finally a full-fledged trainer, but strangely scared for me for some reason. She hopes that my trainees are nothing like hers or my sisters. Mother's the sole exception to her trainees, but even then, Mom back in her day was the closest to being Mother's rival.
Also, it's very rare for a trainer to be a rival to their own trainee for a reason.
No amount of training is worth a life, after all. The lengths a human would go to keep up with their uma trainees, I suppose.
At least I'm allowed to keep my hat on for medical reasons, and I won't feel as homesick when I encounter an American uma. Man, I miss barbecue. Maybe I oughta go buy a crapton of meat an' make my own barbecue, even if stateside stuff's-
-Entry 1, Crystal Raine's diary journal
"Everyone looked at me like I was crazy for wantin' to be a trainer like Mom." A tall, brown