Chapter Text
I still remember the first time I met Special Week.
She had only just transferred to Tracen Academy. On that first morning, she stood before our classroom with her chest puffed out, shoulders held high.
“My name is Special Week! I came all the way from Hokkaido, and I’m—!”
In her eagerness to introduce herself, her own left boot caught the heel of her right. She stumbled violently forward, her ears twitching back in sudden shock as her arms windmilled through the air before she face-planted directly onto the wooden floor.
I remember watching her then, wondering how someone could carry such an earnest lack of grace. And yet, there was something terribly sincere about her from the very beginning.
It was during lunch that I began to understand her a little better.
Sitting at our table alongside El Condor Pasa and Seiun Sky, Spe unveiled a lunch tray dominated by a bowl of rice piled so high that it resembled a small mountain.
My, what a remarkable appetite, I thought, hiding a faint smile behind my teacup.
Her tail swayed with joy as she ate, completely untroubled by how much space her meal occupied. It was... strangely lovely. And then, between mouthfuls, she declared it to us all—
“I’m going to become the number one racing horse girl in Japan!”
Whenever Spe spoke of her dream, her entire expression seemed to brighten. Her eyes would light up, her ears flicking with eager enthusiasm. There was always something almost infectious about the way she spoke of the future.
I never laughed when others implied her dream was too grand.
Even though I always kept my posture composed, whenever she spoke of the day she would stand at the pinnacle I found myself imagining it. I imagined Spe surrounded by the roar of the crowd, bathed in golden light. And, selfishly... I imagined myself standing beside her.
I wanted to be there when that day finally came. I wanted to stand beside her mother and watch Spe achieve the dream she had carried all the way from her home. And when she finally came back, I wanted to be the one who could offer a gentle bow, look into her eyes, and say, “You did it, Spe-chan.”
But perhaps I had no right to harbor such a wish, because I had known from the very beginning that Spe-chan already had someone she idolized.
Silence Suzuka.
I knew it then, just as I know it now. No matter how deeply I wished to run by her side, there was already someone else she was running toward. Yet, foolishly, I wished for it anyway.
Perhaps that was why a strange, shameful relief settled in my chest during Team Rigil’s scouting race. I remember watching Spe take her place on the track.
Her start was... terrible. She stumbled out of the gate and fell far behind the others almost immediately. Her stride looked unsteady, and I found myself pinning my ears back in worry. But when her eyes met Suzuka’s, Spe pushed herself forward with all the strength she had, passing one runner after another.
She could not close the entire gap, though, and only crossed the finish line in second place. Yet I found myself feeling something I was too ashamed to acknowledge—relief.
Was it really so wrong to feel relieved? After all, Spe-chan had still come in second. Wasn’t that a wonderful result for her first race? Why was I relieved that she had not won?
But if Spe-chan had won, Toujou-san would have scouted her into Team Rigil. And if she had joined Team Rigil, she would have been on the same team as Suzuka-san… and me.
I had already grown fond of Spe’s presence. I liked sitting across from her at lunch. I liked listening to her talk about her dreams. I liked watching her face light up whenever she spoke about her mother. And perhaps I was afraid that, if the three of us ended up on the same team, I would have to watch Spe-chan and Suzuka-san grow closer every day.
Grass Wonder, I remember telling myself, what kind of girl feels relieved when someone she treasures falls short?
I had no answer, so I said nothing.
I congratulated Spe and said that second place was a wonderful result for her first race. But somewhere beneath those polite words, I wanted Spe to stay where she was. I thought that if neither of us had her, she could somehow remain within my reach.
Looking back, I sometimes wonder if that was why things turned out the way they did.
El was scouted into Team Rigil. Then, not long afterward, Suzuka asked to leave Rigil and transfer to Team Spica. And just like that, the thing Spe had wanted from the moment she arrived in Tokyo came true.
I was happy for her, truly, but I would have been lying if I said I did not feel a little foolish, too.
Not long after joining Team Spica, Spe won her debut race. It had begun with yet another late start, her familiar clumsiness at the gate threatening to put her behind. But this time, she quickly found her footing. By the final turn, she had caught up to Queen Berry—the favorite—and passed her with a strength I had not seen from her before.
Everyone celebrated, Spe smiled and laughed along with us, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of her first official win. Yet the very next morning, as we sat together in the classroom before the bell, she looked exhausted.
“Spe-chan, have you been sleeping properly?”
“Eh?” She blinked at me from across her desk, her ears drooping slightly before offering that familiar, sheepish smile. “O-Of course! Why do you ask?”
“The shadows beneath your eyes are quite prominent today…”
“Ehh?!” Spe immediately pressed both hands over her face. “R-Really…?! Is it that obvious?!”
I could not help the soft laugh that escaped me.
“It is.”
She lowered her hands and let out a heavy sigh.
“I’ve just been practicing a little extra at night…”
“A little?”
“Okay... a lot.” She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just... I don’t think I did very well.”
“You took first place, Spe-chan. You even passed Queen Berry.”
“I know!” Her ears pinned back in genuine distress. “But I completely ruined the winning concert afterward! I didn’t rehearse the choreography at all because I didn’t expect that I would actually win, so when they pushed me onto the center stage, I just froze right in front of the crowd…”
“It’s okay. It was your very first time.”
“But everyone was watching! I stood there looking like an idiot!”
I remember smiling at her then.
She had won her first race, and somehow, that was already behind her. She was thinking about the next race, the next mistake, the next thing she could improve. Perhaps that was why I worried. Or perhaps I simply liked having a reason to care.
At the time, I had been sidelined from training because of my injured leg. So, sitting there in the classroom, I tried to make light of my own misfortune.
“Please do not fret so much over the winning concert, Spe-chan. You were able to race safely, and that is what truly matters. I would rather watch you freeze than be unable to race at all, forced to sit out because your legs have yet to recover like mine.”
Spe looked at me, her eyes widening as she processed my words.
“You’re right! Thanks, Grass-chan!”
And that was all. Just a simple, honest thank-you. I smiled back and assured her it was nothing, but long after the morning bell rang and the teacher began the lesson, I found myself staring at the chalkboard and wondering… why had I brought up my injury so casually?
Had I only wanted to reassure her?
Or had some small, foolish part of me hoped that she would ask if I was in pain?
I had never told Spe the truth.
After Suzuka left Rigil for Spica, I found myself wanting to beat her more than ever. So I trained harder and harder, pushing myself far beyond what my body could handle. Looking back, it was quite embarrassing.
I wanted to become someone Spe would admire. Someone who could stand beside her. Perhaps I thought that, if I could surpass Suzuka on the track, Spe might finally see me as someone worth looking up to.
But all I had accomplished was injuring myself, and I could not even blame Spe for that.
Because her eyes were always fixed on the track ahead, on becoming stronger and doing better than she had the day before. And whenever she spoke about Suzuka, I already knew where her attention would go.
I knew there was not much room for me.
Still, as I rested my hand over my bandaged knee, I wondered if some part of me had believed otherwise. If I pushed myself hard enough, perhaps Spe-chan would eventually look my way.
Perhaps that was why I kept training in the dark.
Even after Toujou Hana and the dormitory mother had told me to rest, I would wait until the dormitory grew quiet before slipping out of bed. I kept my movements small and careful, doing whatever conditioning I could manage without putting too much strain on my fractured leg.
At least, I thought I was being discreet.
“Caramba... Grass? What on earth are you doing at this hour?”
I froze mid-stretch, then straightened immediately.
“Nothing that strenuous. Only a few gentle movements.”
“Amiga, that is not what I asked!” Her ears pinned back. “Your leg is still recovering! ¡No es bueno!”
“Don’t worry, El-chan,” I bowed, offering her an apologetic smile. “I am well aware of my own body’s limits.”
I did not tell her the real reason I kept training.
By then, my thoughts had already turned toward the autumn races. There was one in particular that I could not stop thinking about—Mainichi Okan.
I had heard that Team Spica intended to send Suzuka as their representative. The moment I heard her name, I knew I wanted to race. Perhaps I should have been thinking about my recovery instead. Perhaps I should have been grateful simply to be training again.
But when autumn finally came, and the maple leaves began to scatter across the academy paths, I remember feeling strangely impatient. It was then that I went to see Toujou-san.
“Trainer-san.”
Toujou-san did not look up immediately from the performance logs.
“What is it, Grass?”
“I would like to register for Mainichi Okan.”
“No.”
“But Trainer-san, I assure you I am capable of—”
“No. You are not fully recovered.” Her eyes returned back to the performance logs. “Entering a race now will accomplish nothing except putting your condition at risk. I do not field runners who are not ready.”
“I understand your concern, Trainer-san. But my intention to participate remains—”
“Grass.” Her voice became firmer this time. “You are not ready.”
El stepped forward, her eyes darting anxiously between us.
“¡Por favor, amiga! Listen to her!” she pleaded. “Trainer-san is right—you need more time for your leg to heal! Why are you being so stubborn about this one race?!”
I kept my hands folded. I could not tell them why this particular race mattered so much to me, so I simply said,
“Because I am going to run.”
Toujou-san narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Even if I were to approve it, Team Rigil has already chosen its representative. El is our entry for Mainichi Okan.”
I turned toward El She gave me an uncomfortable, guilty grimace.
“Amiga... lo siento...”
I turned back to Toujou-san.
“Then please allow me to file my entry as an individual competitor.”
Toujou-san regarded me for a beat before resuming her writing. “Suit yourself.”
I blinked.
“Trainer-san?”
“I will not prepare a training regimen nor will I assign team staff to you. You will be responsible for your own preparation. My focus is El.”
I stood for a moment before bowing. “Understood. Thank you for your permission.”
As I left the office, I could hear Toujou-san calling El back to the track for her interval training. At the time, I told myself I simply wanted another chance to prove myself.
Looking back, I know that wasn’t quite true.
Because deep down I knew I wanted to beat Suzuka. And perhaps, more than that, I wanted Spe to be there when I did.
When the day of Mainichi Okan finally arrived, I still remember the heat of the sun hanging over Tokyo Racecourse. The race was merely a Grade 2 fixture, yet the air vibrated with the thunder of tens of thousands of spectators packing the grandstands to the very rafters.
Through the overhead speakers, the track announcer’s voice boomed.
“—and look at this packed house today! A sea of fans gathered at Tokyo Racecourse for Mainichi Okan! What an electric atmosphere for this autumn clash! Everyone has gathered to witness a true display of speed! But all eyes—yes, every single gaze—is fixed on the unbeaten star of Team Spica! The escape queen herself—Silence Suzuka!”
A collective roar shook the stadium as the giant screen displayed the contenders.
I lowered my eyes, adjusting the white ribbons in my hair. My ears pinned back subtly against the wall of deafening noise. I already knew what I had come here to prove.
Out near the paddock, the air was cool and crisp against my flushed cheeks. I spotted Suzuka stretching near the railing, her gaze fixed calmly on the distant horizon.
I approached her with my usual composure.
“Suzuka-san.”
She turned, her gentle green eyes meeting mine. “Grass-chan.”
“I wish you a great race today.”
She offered a soft smile, bowing her head slightly. “Good luck to you as well.”
Before I could turn away, a loud, energetic burst of footfalls approached.
“¡Grass!”
El skidded to a halt in front of me. She grabbed my shoulders, her eyes searching mine with intense, frantic concern.
“¡Amiga, escúchame! Remember what I told you! Do not overdo it! Your leg—it is not ready!”
“I am perfectly fine, El-chan,” I replied smoothly, bowing my head with serene composure.
“¡No, no lo estás! You always give me that gentle smile and then do whatever crazy thing you want anyway!” El let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine! Then leave it to me! I am going to win this lucha for both of us! You just focus on crossing the line safely, ¿comprendes?”
“Thank you, El-chan. Please run your best.”
I watched her trot off toward her gate, full of fiery bravado. I was truly grateful for her warm heart. But I had not broken myself through midnight training sessions simply to watch another horse girl cross the finish line first.
I had come to tear down a miracle, steeled myself, and stepped into the starting gate.
The metal gates snapped shut with a series of sharp clangs. Locked inside my gate, I took a deep breath, pulling the cold autumn air into my lungs.
My leg is fine, I told myself. The bone has knit. The pain is merely an illusion of the mind.
“Ladies and gentlemen... The runners are in the gates! Everyone is set—”
CLANG!
The gates burst open in unison. My body reacted a fraction of a second too late, my right boot landing awkwardly against the dirt. A sharp pain shot through my right knee and up into my thigh. I gasped, my teeth clicking together.
Not now…!
Driven by desperation, I refused to settle into a conservative pace. Despite my late start and my lack of proper conditioning, I forced my stride wider, trying to match Suzuka’s speed from the opening turn.
“They’re off with a clean break! And once again, Silence Suzuka takes the lead!”
The crowd went wild, their cheers echoing through the stands.
“Silence Suzuka is escaping! She’s opening up a gap immediately! And pursuing her from second place is the passionate red-hot runner—El Condor Pasa!”
I pushed myself to keep them within sight, but my lack of training began to show. My breathing grew heavier, each breath coming shorter than the last. My throat was dry, and every stride sent another pulse of pain through my right leg. Still, I kept going. After all, I had come here to win.
Then, as we rounded the bend, I saw Spe at the railing. She was leaning so far over the barrier that I worried she might tumble onto the turf. Her eyes were wide, fixed entirely on the girl leading the race.
“Go, Suzuka-san! Goooo!”
Her voice pierced through the noise of the crowd. Something tightened inside my chest as I pushed harder.
Look at me, Spe-chan. Please... look at me!
“Silence Suzuka holds a commanding lead into the final stretch! El Condor Pasa is giving everything she has, but the gap is not closing! It’s Silence Suzuka! Silence Suzuka!”
My stride grew heavier.
I tried to accelerate, but my right leg no longer moved as I wanted it to. My breath came unevenly, and the runners behind me began to disappear from my peripheral vision.
I kept running, barely managing to drag myself across the finish line. Only then did the roar of the crowd rush back around me.
“What an unbelievable race! Silence Suzuka crushes the field! An untouchable victory at Tokyo Racecourse!”
I slowed to a halt, forcing myself to remain standing. My right leg trembled, but I kept my hands folded, refusing to let myself collapse in front of everyone.
I looked toward the winner’s circle. Suzuka stood surrounded by flashing cameras, breathing easily, her expression as serene as ever. El had finished second, two and a half lengths behind her. Beyond the fence, Spe was crying tears of joy.
I looked down at the grass beneath my boots.
Eight and a half lengths. That was the distance between Suzuka-san and me.
I pressed my hand against my aching knee. The pain was real, so was the exhaustion. But neither of them was what I remembered most.
Weeks later, I found myself sitting on the sidelines again.
I had been returned to Team Rigil’s regular training schedule, though Toujou-san firmly forbade me from entering official races. My fractured leg had improved considerably since Mainichi Okan, yet the strict look in Toujou-san’s eyes made it clear that she would tolerate no further reckless stubbornness.
So, when Autumn Tenno Sho arrived, I could only watch from the grandstand as Team Rigil gathered at a packed Tokyo Racecourse.
Everywhere I looked, the air vibrated with the name of one girl.
Silence Suzuka.
She had won six consecutive races with unstoppable dominance. By the time Autumn Tenno Sho arrived, the expectation surrounding her felt like an overwhelming certainty. Her merchandise had sold out hours before the gates opened. Banners bearing her green and yellow colors fluttered against the concrete stands. On the giant screen, the commentators spoke in reverent tones of the history we were about to witness.
No one doubted her victory.
Perhaps that was why I felt so calm. I had already learned what it meant to chase a star that burned too brightly for the rest of us to touch.
Before the race, El found me near the paddock. She marched up to me, her ears twitching with determination.
“¡Amiga! I am not losing to her a second time!” She planted her hands firmly on her hips, puffing out her chest. “¡Escúchame, Grass! I promise you, this time I am taking the trophy for both of us!”
I offered her a supportive smile.
“I wish you the absolute best of luck, El-chan. Please run with pride.”
“¡Por supuesto! Just make sure you keep your eyes glued to me!”
She grinned, turning toward the paddock gates with her stride brimming with confidence. I watched her go, then took my seat beside Toujou-san in the reserved staff box. She merely glanced at me, her cold eyes delivering a silent reprimand.
I lowered my gaze, folding my hands neatly in my lap.
“...I am well aware of my past foolishness, Trainer-san.”
“I didn’t say a word, Grass,” she replied, her tone dry.
“You did not need to.”
The metal doors snapped shut. A collective roar rose from the thousands gathered in the stands, then condensed into a breathless pulse.
CLANG!
“And they’re off! A clean break for Autumn Tenno Sho!”
The commentator’s voice thundered through the stadium speakers, crackling with raw excitement.
“And taking the lead immediately—yes, without a moment’s hesitation—it’s Silence Suzuka! She is establishing her pace right from the opening stretch!”
As always, she took the front. The gap between her and the rest of the pack began to widen.
“Look at that incredible escape! Silence Suzuka is tearing up the turf at a terrifying speed! El Condor Pasa leads the chasing pack, but Suzuka is simply in a league of her own!”
My eyes remained fixed on the giant electronic timer as she passed the marker.
One thousand meters. Fifty-seven-point-four-second.
A record-breaking split. An impossible pace that defied comprehension. She looked as though she belonged to the wind itself.
Of course Spe-chan loves her, I thought, a quiet ache blooming behind my ribs. Who wouldn’t?
She was strong. She was the divine ideal. And no matter how hard I trained, I knew I could never match that fifty-seven-point-four-second split.
I watched her silhouette disappear farther into the distance. And then, in the darkest corner of my heart, a terrible, selfish thought took root:
If only the heavens would grant me a miracle. If only I could surpass her... if only she were no longer standing in front of me.
I would like to say I felt immediate horror at my own dark desire, but I did not. Not in that fleeting second, at least. I wanted to know what it felt like to be ahead of her.
After all… I wanted Spe-chan to look at me instead.
The runners rounded the far curve, approaching the fateful third corner.
“Silence Suzuka continues her solitary escape! She enters the third corner with an insurmountable lead—!”
Suddenly, Suzuka’s stride faltered. An unnatural hitch broke her fluid rhythm. Her body leaned awkwardly to the left, her head jerking up as her left leg gave out beneath her weight. The excitement in the commentator’s voice died instantly, replaced by a trembling confusion.
“...Wait—Silence Suzuka is... she is pulling up? Silence Suzuka has slowed down! What—what has happened?!”
A horrified hush descended over the tens of thousands of spectators. The thunderous cheering vanished, swallowed whole by an eerie silence that chilled the air in the stadium.
“She’s... she’s holding her left leg... Silence Suzuka is pulling off to the rail...!”
My hands went completely ice-cold. I stood up from my seat. On the track, Suzuka fought with agonizing bravery, using her remaining strength to slow her body down safely against the outer rail. Her left leg dangled unnaturally, unable to bear a single ounce of weight.
And then, shattering the dead silence of the arena—
“Suzuka-san!”
A raw, desperate scream tore through the air. Spe had vaulted over the grandstand barrier. Disregarding every rule, she sprinted across the turf with frantic speed.
“Spe-chan...!” I gasped, my voice catching in my throat.
Spe reached her just as Suzuka’s knees buckled. She caught Suzuka in her arms, collapsing onto the grass together, holding her trembling senior tightly against her chest as medical staff swarmed the track.
Through the grim silence, the commentator’s voice returned, hollow and shaken.
“...El Condor Pasa... crosses the finish line first...”
No one cheered. Not a single flag waved.
I stood frozen in the box, staring at Spe weeping on the turf. The dark wish I had harbored only moments prior echoed in my mind like a curse.
A miracle.
A wave of profound self-loathing washed over me, draining the color from my face.
No... no, dear God, no! That is not what I meant! I wanted to beat her on the turf! I wanted to prove my strength!
Yet a terrible whisper inside my head answered back: You wished for her to stop leading. And now she has.
I buried my face in my hands, trembling, hating my own existence.
The next afternoon, a heavy gloom hung over Team Rigil’s clubhouse.
El had brought home the official winner’s trophy for Autumn Tenno Sho—a Grade 1 victory that should have been celebrated with endless praise. Yet, the trophy sat untouched on the center table, gleaming mockingly under the fluorescent lights.
El sat on the couch, her colorful mask resting beside her. She stared blankly at her own hands, her eyes red and swollen. She had won one of the greatest races of her career, yet she looked so utterly defeated.
Toujou-san stood near the window, reviewing medical reports sent from the academy’s hospital. Her face was set in a rigid line.
No one spoke, the entire team was trapped in the same dark shadow. Their thoughts anchored entirely to a hospital room on the other side of Tokyo where Suzuka lay with a shattered bone—her racing career hanging by a thread.
I stood in the doorway, looking from El’s weeping silhouette to the untouched trophy. It was true that I had wanted to surpass Silence Suzuka. And it was true that I had trained until my body broke because I wanted to tear down the wall between Spe and me.
But now, when the distance between Suzuka and myself on the track was technically gone, I had not moved an inch closer. The star we all chased had simply been brought down to earth in a heartbreaking manner.
What was I supposed to feel? Guilt? Despair?
I pressed my hand over my heart, feeling a cold ache that no gentle words could heal. I had finally learned the bitter truth: There are some victories that carry only the taste of ashes, and there are some miracles you should never dare to wish for.
And I truly wished, afterward, that my grief for Suzuka had been pure. I wished I could have set aside my own desires, offering only genuine prayers for the recovery of a runner I respected.
Yet my heart remained selfish, because while Suzuka lay in her hospital bed, the space between Spe and me stretched into a chasm.
Spe spent her days at the clinic. She brought homemade lunches, managed small errands, and sat by Suzuka’s bedside until dusk turned to night. Her lectures went unattended, and her training shoes remained dry in her locker.
Concern drew me to her one afternoon in the quiet courtyard.
“Spe-chan.”
She paused, her shoulders drooping before she offered a weary smile.
“Ah, Grass-chan! Is something the matter?”
“May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course!”
“You have missed three consecutive morning practices,” I reminded her gently. “Your academic standing is slipping as well.”
Spe-chan shifted her weight, her tail flicking against her legs.
“I’m sorry, I’ve just been a bit busy…”
“I also noticed you are sleeping poorly. You fell asleep during strategy review yesterday.”
Her eyes widened, and she hastily rubbed the back of her neck as she looked down.
“Ahaha... was it that obvious? I’m fine, really! I just… want to be there for Suzuka-san. She needs help with her rehabilitation, and... well… I hate seeing her like this.” She shifted her weight to her left leg. “Suzuka-san was always running so far ahead of everyone, but now she can barely manage a few steps without leaning on a handrail.”
I took a deep breath, resting a hand gently over my chest. “Suzuka-san possesses great strength of character—I believe she will overcome her injury in time. However, you once declared that you would become the foremost racer in Japan. What has become of that dream?”
Spe looked up, her ears wilted completely. “I... I still want that.”
“Then why have you abandoned your turf?”
She lowered her head again, staring at her shoes. “If I can’t run on the same track as Suzuka-san... then running doesn’t feel the same.”
A cold bitterness settled in my stomach.
Why? I thought, watching her fight back tears. Why must your entire world revolve around her presence? Why must your dream vanish the moment she steps off the track?
I had spent months striving to earn her gaze, yet she looked at Suzuka with a devotion so complete that she lost sight of herself.
“Did you not travel all the way from Hokkaido to bring pride to your mother?” I asked, my tone sharpening. “Would she take comfort in seeing you discard your training?”
“...”
“Spe-chan?”
“I-I’m sorry, Grass-chan,” she muttered, turning away before I could speak again. “I have to go.”
“Wait—Spe-chan—!”
I reached out, my fingers brushing the air, but my hand fell back to my side. I watched her hurry down the corridor until her footsteps faded.
I knew my words had been spoken out of concern, but I was also furious. I resented Suzuka for consuming Spe’s thoughts, and I was disappointed in Spe too, for setting aside her ambitions.
How could I harbor resentment toward a girl resting in a hospital bed with a career-threatening injury? How could I judge Spe-chan for supporting someone she held dear?
My thoughts turned toward my own past. My right knee throbbed with a faint memory of pain.
If my fracture at Mainichi Okan had been worse... would she have sat in my room each evening? Or would she have offered a polite gift before hurrying off to find Suzuka-san?
I closed my eyes, steadying my breath to quell the ugly fantasy.
Perish the thought, Grass Wonder—it was vile to measure love by suffering. You should not want Spe-chan's presence out of pity.
So that evening, I carried a small bouquet of seasonal flowers to the academy’s clinic, intending to apologize to Spe for invoking her mother’s name so harshly. I stopped outside Suzuka’s room and knocked softly.
Receiving no answer, I turned the handle and slid the door open.
The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and fresh linen. Suzuka lay asleep, her expression calm beneath the pale moonlight filtering through the window. Beside the bed, Spe sat curled in a visitor’s chair, her head resting against the edge of the mattress. Her fingers remained loosely intertwined with Suzuka’s hand.
I stood in the doorway. Spe looked small and weary in the dim light, yet even in sleep, her hold on Suzuka did not loosen.
I had pictured myself beside Spe countless times. I had hoped to become the person she sought out first, but now I finally understood that her choice had already been made.
So I could only smooth my skirt, setting the flowers quietly on the table, and stepped back into the hallway. I pulled the door shut without making a sound, leaving them alone in the night.
Time passed, and Suzuka began to recover.
At first, even the doctors seemed surprised by her progress. Everyone had been braced for the possibility that she might never step onto a track again, but before long, she could walk without help and eventually return to regular practice.
I remember the first time I saw her jogging again along the inner turf.
It was not the Silence Suzuka who used to tear across the track, leaving entire fields of runners behind. Her pace was cautious, and she stopped every few laps to catch her breath and check her knee, yet she still managed to run.
Others called it a miracle. To me, it seemed more like Suzuka simply being herself, possessing a stubborn strength that refused to give up. As Suzuka’s condition improved, the gloomy look Spe had carried for weeks vanished. Her bright smile returned, and her usual energy filled the halls again.
I was glad to see it. Truly, I was. But I would be lying if I said there was no jealousy left in me.
When she had been in the hospital, I could tell myself that Spe stayed by her side because Suzuka needed the help. Now, Suzuka could walk on her own. She could carry her own bag, attend classes without assistance, and tell Spe, with a slightly embarrassed smile, that she was fine on her own, but Spe simply refused to listen.
“Suzuka-san, let me carry that for you!”
“I can carry my own binder, Spe-chan.”
“Then I’ll carry your water bottle! O-Or walk with you to the track!”
“Didn’t you have your own strategy meeting today?”
“I can do both! I really want to!” Spe’s tail swished with frantic enthusiasm. “Please, Suzuka-san! Just—let me help you!”
I watched them from down the corridor, my hands folded neatly in front of me. Somehow, Spe always found another reason to stay beside her.
I began to realize that I hadn’t just lost the time we might have spent together while Suzuka was hurt. I had lost her attention entirely.
I missed our lunches, her ridiculous mountains of rice, and the way she would suddenly turn to me, eager to share whatever thought had just crossed her mind.
I hated myself for feeling that way—to feel resentful toward Suzuka, who had almost lost everything—just because Spe chose to be beside her.
Eventually, I decided I had stayed silent long enough. One afternoon, I saw Spe and Suzuka getting ready to eat lunch together, and I walked over.
“Spe-chan, Suzuka-san,” I greeted softly, touching Spe’s arm. “May I sit with you today?”
“Grass-chan!” Spe looked up. “Of course! Come sit down!”
Sky was already at the table, leaning back in her chair with a lazy smile.
A few moments later, Spe pulled a crinkled envelope from her jacket. “Oh! I almost forgot! El-chan sent another letter from her training trip!”
She opened it eagerly, unfolding pages covered in El’s handwriting. “Let’s see... She says she took second place at the Isfahan Match!”
Suzuka tilted her head. “The… Isfahan Match?”
“Mmhm! That’s what she wrote right here!”
Suzuka leaned closer to look. “I think she means the Prix d’Ispahan.”
“Ehh?! Really?”
Sky leaned over the table. “She also claims she’s going to win the Santa Cruz Prize next.”
“The Grand Prix de Saint-Cloud,” Suzuka corrected gently.
“Right. That one,” Sky said.
I raised my teacup, hiding a fond smile.
“El-chan certainly has a unique way with international names.”
Spe laughed softly. “That’s just how El-chan is!”
For a short moment, things felt like the early days when Spe had just arrived at Tracen.
Then Spe turned back to Suzuka. “Suzuka-san, are you sure your knee feels fine for tomorrow’s run? I can ask Trainer-san to tone down the pace!”
“I’m fine, Spe-chan, you should focus on your own training.”
“I can do both! I really want to help!”
There it was again—that familiar ache in my chest.
I tried to turn the conversation back. “Spe-chan, have you started preparing for Takarazuka Kinen? It isn’t far off.”
Spe looked at me, blinking. “Takarazuka Kinen?”
“Yes. It’s your next major race.”
“Oh, right!” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking embarrassed. “I’ve been meaning to focus on it more, but... well, I’ve been helping Suzuka-san with her recovery drills.”
“Spe-chan, that’s not good.” Suzuka looked down, appearing slightly troubled. “You shouldn’t neglect your own practice.”
“It’s okay, Suzuka-san! I want to be there with you, and it's not only because I feel like I'm obligated to,” Spe said earnestly. Then she paused, offering a sheepish chuckle. “Though... I suppose Suzuka-san isn’t supposed to be exclusive only for me, is she?”
She laughed it off, but to me, the truth behind her words was obvious.
“I see,” I said softly, keeping my smile polite and composed. “That’s very kind of you.”
When we finished eating, Suzuka reached for her tray, but Spe immediately grabbed it first. “I’ll take those! I’ll clean them!”
“Spe-chan, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind! I want to do it!” Spe stacked the dishes quickly.
Suzuka let out a sigh and gave in with a small smile. “...All right. Thank you.”
I watched Spe carry both trays toward the wash area. Beside me, Sky rested her chin in her hand, watching Spe leave. She let out a whistle.
“Phew.”
I looked over at her. “Is something wrong, Sky-chan?”
Sky gestured vaguely toward the hallway with a lazy smirk. “Don’t those two look like a pretty good couple?”
My fingers tightened around my porcelain teacup. It was a casual comment, but it voiced the exact reality I had tried not to think about—a perfect pair. The thought twisted uncomfortably.
“...Yes.”
Sky looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I offered a practiced smile, keeping my shoulders straight. “I think they suit each other very well.”
The words came out smoothly, but my hand still betrayed me, gripping the cup so tightly that my knuckles turned pale under the light.
My memory of spring in Hanshin remains gentle. The last cherry blossoms were drifting down, settling over the dirt paths and catching in the grass beside the track. It was a beautiful, fleeting season, but the sky above me did not seem to match the feelings I carried.
Special Week and I had finally been placed in the same starting field for Takarazuka Kinen. For months, I had imagined what it would feel like to face her as true equals. Yet before the gates opened, Spe’s mind seemed to be somewhere else.
Suzuka was miles away in Tokyo, watching the broadcast from Team Spica’s clubroom. Spe had brought it up repeatedly on the train ride to Hanshin, her tail flicking with excitement at the thought of her senior watching her stride on screen.
I smoothed my racing uniform, offering my usual nod. Even from hundreds of kilometers away, Suzuka’s presence filled the space between us.
As Spe stepped onto the turf, I noticed something: her stride had changed.
She was driving forward with an unusual, front-running intensity, trying to build momentum right from her first steps. It was a style I knew instantly.
Through the high-definition speakers, the commentator’s voice crackled to life.
“—and here they come! The grand parade for the 40th running of Takarazuka Kinen! Tokyo’s finest have assembled right here!”
The crowd answered with a roar, flags waved across the grandstands as thousands stood to cheer. I glided onto the grass, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. A short distance away, Spe was adjusting her shoes.
“Spe-chan.”
She turned toward me, her ears perking up instantly. “Grass-chan!”
She gave me that familiar, radiant smile. For a second, I saw the girl who had tumbled into our classroom on her first day at Tracen. But then her eyes drifted away, past my shoulder, toward whatever grand vision she was chasing in her mind.
I kept my hands folded gracefully over my waist, hiding the tremor in my fingers.
“Please run your best today.”
“Yeah! I’m going to give it everything I’ve got!”
The runners filed toward the starting gates. I stepped into my stall, feeling the heavy iron doors latch behind me. The noise of the crowd faded into a low, muffled hum.
I had spent months trying to understand what I needed to do to earn Spe-chan’s gaze, but perhaps I had been asking the wrong question all along.
“All runners are loaded into the gates! We are seconds away from the jump in this midseason dream clash!”
CLANG!
“And they’re off! A clean break for the entire field!”
Spe-chan surged forward.
“Special Week takes an aggressive line early! Look at her go—Special Week is pushing right up to the lead pack!”
I settled into a steady rhythm behind the frontrunners, my eyes locked on her form.
Something about her movement felt wrong. She was forcing herself into a pace that did not seem natural to her. Her body stayed low, trying to break away early and command the race from the front. Every movement reminded me of Silence Suzuka.
A cold bitterness tightened in my chest.
The field swept through the first turn. Spe held her position near the front, her chest heaving as she pushed the pace.
She possessed the strength to lead. She was displaying the exact power I had always wanted to see. And yet, watching her, I felt entirely alone.
I had foolishly believed that once Suzuka recovered, the distance between Spe and me would shrink. Now, I wondered if the distance was somewhere I could never reach.
We entered the backstretch. Spe remained out front, her eyes fixed on the track ahead. Whatever she was chasing, it felt impossibly far away, and I was simply running in her shadow.
I had tried to make myself worthy of her affection. I had watched her devote herself to someone else while wondering what I lacked. But at that moment, maybe I had finally grown tired of waiting for her to see me.
We approached the final turn.
“Special Week continues to hold her ground at the front! She’s rounding the bend with a narrow margin—!”
My stride widened instantly. My right leg struck the turf with unyielding power. One runner fell behind me. Then another.
“Grass Wonder is accelerating! Grass Wonder is making her move from the outside! Look at that incredible speed! Grass Wonder is closing in like a tidal wave!”
Spe was still ahead. For a fleeting second, I remembered the clumsy girl who had eaten a mountain of rice at lunch, the girl who had promised to become the best in Japan with such unvarnished honesty. I wanted that girl to turn around. I wanted her to look at me.
I dug my toes into the soil, unleashing every ounce of strength I had held back through months of agonizing frustration.
“Grass Wonder is right on her heels!”
Spe finally sensed the pressure. Her head snapped back. Her eyes widened in shock as our gazes locked.
There you are.
I surged past her.
She tried to respond, her arms driving hard to match my pace, but the rhythm she had established earlier was beginning to falter as I continued to pull ahead. The wind whipped against my face, carrying the roar of tens of thousands of voices.
“Grass Wonder takes the lead! What a magnificent surge!”
The finish line rushed toward me. My heart hammered against my ribs, every muscle burning with excruciating heat.
I opened the gap. Spe’s footfalls grew distant behind me as I crossed the line.
“Grass Wonder wins Takarazuka Kinen! What an absolute masterclass performance!”
The stadium roared with wild acclaim. I slowed my pace gradually, my lungs burning as I brought myself to a walk.
Three full lengths. I had defeated her decisively.
I turned back toward the stretch.
Spe had crossed the line in second. She stumbled forward a few paces before dropping onto her hands and knees in the dirt, her shoulders rising and falling in heavy gasps. Her ears hung low, her eyes fixed blankly on the ground beneath her.
I walked toward her, my own legs trembling from the exertion.
I had poured everything into that final stretch—my training, my frustration, my pride. Yet looking down at her bowed form, the victory felt so entirely hollow.
Spe lifted her head slightly. Her gaze drifted beyond me, toward the distant grandstands and the open sky beyond them.
For some reason, I found myself thinking of Tokyo. Of Suzuka watching the race from far away. Of the person who had occupied so much of Spe’s heart that I had begun to feel her presence even here.
I looked down at Spe, my posture straight.
“Spe-chan.”
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with shock and heartbreak.
My voice trembled slightly as I spoke, “I gave everything I possessed to defeat you today, Spe-chan. Tell me... did you give your all too?”
Spe had no answer.
The cheers of the crowd echoed around us as another soft gust of wind brushed past, scattering a few stray sakura petals across the finish line.
I turned away, smoothing down my uniform.
I had won Takarazuka Kinen. The record books would document my victory, and the crowds would speak of my final turn for years to come. Yet standing at the finish line, I realized that even in victory, I was still running against a ghost.
My memory brought me to the summer that followed Takarazuka Kinen. Suzuka had received an offer to train overseas, and after several weeks of discussion, she decided to leave Japan for America before the next racing season began.
When Spe heard the news, she was both excited and heartbroken. She talked about it constantly—she wanted to know where Suzuka would train, what the facilities were like, whether the courses were different from those in Japan, and promised that she would work harder while Suzuka was away. She promised that, by the time Suzuka returned, she would be strong enough to race beside her.
I listened to it all.
I had heard those words before, and perhaps that was why they no longer hurt quite as much.
The morning Suzuka departed, Spe arrived at the station long before the departure time. She stood beside her luggage, fidgeting with the strap of her bag while Suzuka spoke to her with that same gentle smile she always wore.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Suzuka said.
“I know! But I’m still going to miss you.”
“You can always call.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Spe’s ears perked up immediately. “Then I’ll call you every day!”
Suzuka laughed softly. “You don’t have to call every day.”
“But I want to!”
I stood a short distance away, watching them say their goodbyes. When it was finally time for Suzuka to leave, Spe hugged her tightly.
“Come back safely, Suzuka-san.”
“I will.”
“And when you do, I’ll be ready to race you. I’ll become strong enough that I can finally run beside you.”
Suzuka smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
The announcement for the departing train sounded over the station speakers. Suzuka turned toward the platform.
“Take care of yourself, Spe-chan.”
“I will!”
She waved until Suzuka disappeared beyond the carriage doors. When her train finally disappeared from view, I wished her a safe journey. Perhaps that was all I could do.
After that, Spe seemed to live beside her telephone. Whenever Suzuka called, Spe would disappear from the cafeteria with a hurried apology, only to return twenty minutes later with her face glowing.
She told us everything. Suzuka’s new training schedule. The weather. The strange food she had tried. The differences between the American tracks and the ones back home. Sometimes she would repeat little things Suzuka had said, laughing when she realized she had been talking for several minutes without anyone interrupting her.
The calls became part of our days. Then part of our weeks. I grew accustomed to seeing Spe with her phone in hand, waiting for the time difference to line up.
One afternoon, I found her sitting alone on a bench outside the dormitory. Her phone rested beside her.
“You are unusually quiet today, Spe-chan.”
She looked up. “Grass-chan.”
I sat beside her.
“Is something troubling you?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
Her tail moved slowly behind her.
“I just...” She looked toward the dormitory windows. “My room feels kind of empty now.”
I said nothing.
“It’s silly, isn’t it?” She laughed softly. “Suzuka-san wasn’t even there that much before she left. But now that she’s gone, it feels different.”
She rested her chin against her knees.
“I guess I got used to knowing she was nearby…”
I looked at her. For so long, I had imagined what it would mean if the space beside Spe ever became available. Now it was, but I did not want to take advantage of her loneliness, so I let the thought pass.
The next morning, I found myself thinking about it again. Then again that evening.
Whenever Spe sat alone at lunch, I let her choose where she wanted to sit. When she mentioned another call from Suzuka, I listened. When she spoke about how much she missed her, I listened to that too. Until one afternoon, Spe came looking for me.
“Grass-chan!”
“Spe-chan?”
“Can I talk to you?”
“Of course.”
She sat beside me and stared at the grass for several seconds before bowing her head.
“I wanted to apologize for Takarazuka Kinen. You gave everything you had to beat me but I didn’t. I thought I was ready to run with Suzuka-san again and kept thinking about what I should do when I finally got to race beside her. I got so caught up in that that I forgot about the race I was actually running.”
A familiar ache stirred in my chest.
I remembered the finish line. Her hands against the dirt. The question I had asked her while my own voice trembled.
Did you give your all to defeat me?
At the time, I had wanted an answer. Now that she was giving me one, I found myself with very little left to say.
“I am sorry,” she said again. “I really am.”
I looked at her for a moment. There were words I had imagined saying to her for months. Some had been angry. Some had been sorrowful. Some had belonged to a girl who still believed that one perfect race could change everything.
Yet I could not find any of them now.
“I see,” I said.
Spe blinked. “Are you angry?”
“No.”
I offered her a small smile. “Would you like to have some tea?”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･