“You’re in Kyoto? …Why do I hear music?”

  Katsura paces the inner lane of the school’s practice track, her long black ribbons of hair springing with each irritated step. The sun hovers low, a shade of molten orange,casting her silhouette across the dirt in a stretched, restless shadow.

  “It’s the victory concert, Katsura.” Goutarou’s tone is steady, almost drowned beneath distant cheering. “It will be finished soon.”

  “You’re not her trainer.” Katsura’s voice suddenly snaps taut like a strained rubber band. “You should’ve let the greycoat go on her own.”

  “You and I both know that isn’t an option.”

  Goutarou’s voice snaps back the second she finishes. A long silence hangs in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Katsura’s teeth grit slowly, only for her to let out a long exhale.

  “…You’re an idiot.” The anger deflates out of her like a balloon. Her voice softens, not quite fond but no longer barbed as she runs a finger through her hair and begins to twirl. “Whatever. When are you going to be back?”

  “Don’t bother waiting. The return train is at midnight.”

  “Roger that. I’ll make sure the team follows the curfew then.”

  “Thank you, Katsura.”

  Her ears prick upward despite herself, her tail smacking against the trunk of the tree. Her eyes snap shut as a faint smile lifts on the edge of her lips.

  “Regardless, that isn’t why I’m calling.”

  Her smile vanishes.

  “What’s it about, then?”

  The crowd’s applause pulses like distant thunder as Goutarou steps away from the entrance tunnel, the cool night air brushing past him as lights strobe the sky.

  “It's about Tracen.”

  The words snap her shoulders tense like the strike of a whip. Her fingers curl into the bark behind her; her ears flatten in a single swift motion.

  “I’ve told you already, I’m not-”

  “Listen to me, Katsura.” Goutarou cuts her off with a hushed, tense tone. “I am not one to easily come to praise, but it was truly something extraordinary that I’ve come to perceive today.”

  “Tch.” Her lips curl into a snarl.

  “She finished third place, Katsura.”

  His eyes slowly drift across to the concert stage, with Normcore dancing near the center. Her silver strands light up in the concert light like a multicolored kaleidoscope, her body moving with lightness and grace as though it had forgotten how to fail.

  “She got lucky, then.”

  “It had very little to do with luck.” Goutarou replies. “Do you really think a regional turf runner could make third place in a grade 3 dirt race through luck, Katsura?”

  “The hell’s your point, then?” She snaps back impatiently, her brow furrowing. “Spit it out.”

  “She managed an impossible victory through her wit, will, and strength. Her drive to win is not unlike that of yours.” He steps away from the stadium lights into the amber haze of the streetlamps. “In addition, this victory has managed to secure her a place at Tracen. If she goes there, ahead as you might be, it won’t be long before she overtakes you.”

  “She can go ahead then. I’ll prove her wrong.” Katsura’s knuckles tighten white against the case of her phone, her voice shaking with something sharper than fear. “I’ll prove all of them wrong.”

  “Katsura.” Goutarou slowly takes off his glasses and lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As much as I appreciate your persistence, there’s only so much I am capable of. Preparing you for the classic triple crown is not one of them. It is time for you to move on to greener pastures.”

  THWACK!

  “Am I not good enough, then? Do you not believe in me?”

  Katsura slams her fist into the tree full force, hard enough to splinter the bark. Her hair curtains around her face as she lets out a noise that’s half sob, half growl.

  “I believe in you, Katsura. That is precisely why I-”

  “They didn’t start giving a damn about me till I started making a name for myself!” Her body vibrates through the air as her voice raises half a pitch. “They’ve never believed in me like you did! They only want me now because of everything you’ve done!”

  “Katsura, please-”

  “You’d spend 11 thousand yen on a Shinkansen ride to let Greycoat run in a dirt race, but you won’t accept the fact that I want to stay?!”

  Silence.

  “So the greycoat made a miracle happen! Big deal!” Katsura presses her forehead against the tree trunk, letting the cool roughness hold her up. Her chest heaves. The tears she’d been holding back finally slips through, streaking down her cheeks in frustrated, uneven lines. “You didn’t believe in miracles before, but you believe in them now, don’t you?”

  She lets out a wet, sobbing gasp, wiping away the tears.

  “So believe in mine. Please.” Her voice fractures. “Believe in me like you used to. I—I can give you a miracle too. I swear.”

  Goutarou doesn’t respond immediately. The concert in the distance winds down, lights dimming one by one. The crowd erupts into its final applause.

  “Very well,” he says at last, quiet but unyielding. “If you win the Saudi Arabia Royal Cup by more than five lengths… I will let you stay.” A beat. “If not—”

  She didn’t need to hear another word.

  “Understood, Trainer. Thank you."

  Goutarou hangs up and turns back towards the concert, placing his glasses back upon his eyes. He didn’t have the heart to overrule the girl’s decision. After all, he had given Normcore one; it was only fair to let Katsura prove herself too.

  The cheers spill over the stands one last time, then taper. Norm slowly makes her way backstage, heaving with exertion and covered in sweat. The city girls gather into their little bunches, chitchatting as Le Vent Se Leve turns with a lift of her head.

  The lights abruptly turn off. She comes to a stop, too exhausted to move and too tired to think. Her lungs and body burn like she had just ran a second race, her stage uniform drooping, wilting like a flower in the sun.

  “Norm! That was amazing!”

  A sudden impact slams into her from the side, a Masaru-shaped bowling ball toppling her like a pin. She hits the floor with a loud “omph!”, the air knocked out of her.

  “Can’t.. Breathe…”

  But she’s laughing. Despite it all, she’s laughing. Her heavy body feels lighter than ever. Masaru slowly climbs off her, eyes glittering.

  “How’s it feel? You’ve performed on a national stage now!” She helps her up and walks her to the changing room. Norm doesn’t realize how hard her legs are trembling until she tries to put weight on them, and they buckle almost instantly.

  “To be honest, I… I still don’t know how to feel about it all. I mean… it all happened so quickly.” She stares into the ground, searching for a reflection and finding only linoleum. “How was my singing?”

  “To be honest? It wasn’t all that bad.” Masaru giggles as Norm slowly pulls off her stage dress. “I mean, sure, you could’ve used a bit more practice, and some of the notes were almost off key… but other than that, the crowd really enjoyed your performance!”

  “Is that so? Guess I was worried for nothing” She tilts her head before slipping her tracksuit back on. The words she screamed earlier still echo in her head, though it wasn’t about Kentaro this time.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The night air outside was a shock, cool and sharp. It was the first real sensation she’d felt since the stage lights went dark. She took a deep, shuddering breath, the scent of trampled grass filling her lungs. As she begins to exit the tunnel, a presence behind her catches her attention, a ping lighting up in her radar. She turns, causing Masaru to swivel.

  “Great running out there. It’s a shame you didn’t take home the gold.”

  The voice from the shadows was light, almost melodic. A figure steps into the dim light at the tunnel's mouth. A jolt runs through Normcore- For a second she thought she had been staring back at Wagnerian, but focusing on the girl’s appearance told her this was somebody else. Her eyes flicker with a familiar hue of amber, and the next thing to catch her eye is the Tracen uniform- nearly ironed and as if fresh from the package.

  Norm blinks stupidly in the sunset.

  “Danon Fantasy.” The girl folds her fingers in front of her chest. “Nice to meet you!”

  “Have we met before?”

  “Nope!” She chirps back in a sing-song voice. “I was watching from the stands. You really gave Leve-chan something to think about!"

  Leve-chan. The casual familiarity with the untouchable favorite was as disorienting as the compliment itself. As if summoned, Le Vent Se Leve glides past them, already changed into her purple-and white uniform. She shoots Norm a barely acknowledging look before heading towards the front gate.

  “Let’s go, Danon.”

  "Coming!" Danon beamed, offering a final, sparkling wave to the stunned Normcore. "See you around, then!”

  And just like that, they were gone, absorbed by the night. Norm stands there, dumbfounded, only for Goutarou to walk up behind the two.

  “It’s time to leave. Pack your things.”

  Normcore slowly makes for the station with only one question in her mind.

  Who the heck was Danon Fantasy?

  “Attention please. The Super Express Hayabusa number 235, bound for Tokyo, is now boarding at platform 6. All passengers-”

  “Do you have everything?” Goutarou asks.

  “Yes. I believe I do.”

  Normcore stands upon the platform, the air pitch black save for the lights scattered around the terminal. Her hair slowly billows in the air as two lights light up in the distance. Masaru comes up beside her with a grunt, placing down one rather large briefcase before catching her breath. The twin lights of the Hayabusa swell in the distance, cutting through the night like a blade. The low, building hum vibrates through the platform, up through the soles of Normcore's shoes, and into the hollow space behind her ribs.

  "Thanks for everything, Saru." Normcore says, her voice quiet but clear in the cool air. It's the first thing she's said with any real intent since Danon Fantasy vanished into the night. She watches the train's approach, her reflection catching the glint of her blue eyes like a pale ghost. She imagines for a second what the uniform would look like, only for the doors to slide open with a ding. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Wh- huh?” Masaru turns a slight shade of red, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “I- What’s with this all of a sudden?”

  Goutarou steps ahead with his briefcase and gestures for the two girls to follow.

  “This might be the last time we see each other.”

  She hefts her own battered suitcase and steps onto the train, the familiar, sterile scent of filtered air and clean seats washing over her. Masaru follows, her briefcase scraping the threshold. They find their seats in the near-empty carriage, the silence a heavy, overbearing sensation that churns in her stomach.

  “What do you mean?”

  Normcore stares out the window at the dark, flowing landscape. Her breath escapes her with a soft hiss, fogging the glass.

  “I’m not going back to Iwaki.”

  A soft rumble begins to echo as the train picks up speed, the lit-up platforms of Osaka shrinking into pinpricks before vanishing. Masaru, who had been fishing for her ticket, freezes. “What?”

  “I’m getting off at Tokyo, but I’m not catching the connection north.” Norm’s voice is calm, resolute. The ghost in the window looks back at her, silver hair blending with the passing streaks of light. “There’s a local to Hokkaido from Ueno. I’m going home back to Abira for a few days, and then I’ll head for Tracen.”

  “Does he know?” Masaru tosses a worried glance at Goutarou. “I don’t know if he’d..”

  “No.” Norm replies, almost too quickly. She averts her gaze towards the dark of the night. “But he doesn’t get to make that choice for me. This is my decision.”

  The letter softly crumples between her fingertips- She had no reason to return to the place that had provided her so little. Tracen’s acceptance letter was her discharge papers, and so she saw no reason to report back to her prison. Her phone softly lights up with a buzz, the screen lighting up.

  “That’s mum.” She replies, lifting her phone to her face before lowering it. “She’ll come pick me up at Oiwake.”

  "You're... just not going back," Masaru repeated, not as a question, but as a dawning understanding. The finality of it was a door clicking shut somewhere deep in her chest. Norm was leaving, truly leaving. She was taking her step towards the path that Masaru herself wouldn’t be walking. "And you're... going to show up at Tracen straight from Hokkaido?"

  Normcore nods.

  "I need to see my parents. I need to breathe air that doesn't smell like that place. I need some time to myself and recall who I am… it’s better than rotting away in an empty dorm anyway.”

  The train rockets past a cluster of distant town lights, a fleeting constellation soon swallowed by the dark. Masaru’s own reflection, pale and wide-eyed, stares back from over Norm’s shoulder. It hit her in a wave of cold that had nothing to do with the air conditioning- If Normcore wasn’t going back, then she would be returning to Iwaki alone. The thought hits her like a sucker punch.

  “...What do you plan to do next, Saru?”

  Masaru's eyes are fixed on her own hands, Norm's question hanging in the air.

  "What's... my plan?" Masaru echoes, the words feeling like pebbles in her mouth. "I… go back to the academy, I guess. Try and make a name for myself, see if I can find that spark in me to run like you do.”

  The silence stretches, filled only by the train's rhythmic hum and the faint squeal of the tracks. Normcore watches Masaru's reflection, the way her friend's shoulders slump, the restless twisting of her fingers. The way she described it felt like a prison sentence.

  “Truth be told, Saru, I don’t think that’s what you want.”

  “I- Well…” She buries her head in defensive resignation, her hands clawing into her locks. “I-I have to try, right? I don’t think it’s fair to say no before I’ve even tried! I mean, what if I do end up enjoying it? What if I get into Tracen like you do a-and-”

  “Being a champion and wanting to be a champion are different things, Saru.” Norm cuts her off, her voice soft but firm. “You followed me to Osaka because you believed in my dream, but I’ve never heard you talk about yours. All you’ve done is parrot the dreams of others as if they were your own.”

  Masaru opens her mouth, her response dying before it could even be born. It felt so hollow, so vain, if she were to repeat verbatim what Norm had just accused her of doing right back to her. Her ears slowly droop in the weight of her own disappointment.

  “It’s okay to not know, Saru. But I think you do know what you want.” Norm shifts in her seat, slowly closing her eyes. “Being a runner isn’t one of them.”

  The truth shatters the conversation into countless shards of silence, a rift slowly crackling between the two. The race, the crash, the floodlights and concert, it had all been a brilliant, loud distraction. Now, with Norm stepping away into the spotlight, Masaru once again finds her alone in the darkness.

  “You don’t have to become someone like me, Saru.” Norm continues. “You followed me to the edge of a cliff and watched me jump, but that was my path. You can’t expect yours to be handed to you on a platter, and you won’t find it by retracing my steps. That path… it’s for you and only you to discover.”

  “My parents…” Masaru squeaks out, planting a flimsy shield of excuse before her.

  “If they love you, then they’ll support you through that choice. They’ll understand. Even if they don’t, they'll have your back. Because that’s what love is.”

  “You think so..?”

  “I don’t think. I know. Your parents sound like wonderful people.” Normcore flashes a warm smile back. “It’s the only way they could’ve raised someone as wonderful as you.”

  The train begins to slow, its hum dropping sharply in pitch. The conductor’s voice echoes through the compartment announcing their next stop. Clusters of light zip by, too quick to count, the words “Nagoya Station” visible on the distant platform as they slowly pull to a halt.

  “...it’s about time I go tell Goutarou about my plan.” Normcore gives a soft, whispered wave before standing. “Think about it, okay?”

  Masaru doesn’t respond. Her eyes are unfocused, lazy, drifting about the carpet pattern in a daze. She slowly shifts her leg sideways, letting Norm through who scurries towards the back row.

  The rest of the ride is submerged by a solemn stillness.

  Tokyo Station is never truly quiet even at night; but here it felt a boundary between worlds, separated by a hand of fate. The night breathes, rails humming faintly beneath their feet, carrying the memory of motion even as everything stands still. Overhead lights cast long, pale reflections across polished concrete, stretching the two girls’ shadows until they blur together at the edges.

  “So…” Masaru said, her voice small. “Guess this is it, huh?”

  “For now.” Norm turns with a small wave, flashing a radiant smile back at her. “We’ll meet again for sure. I promise.”

  Masaru’s voice chokes up in her throat. It felt surreal to be parting after being together for so long, after everything the two had been through together. She throws herself towards Normcore with flattened ears, holding her tight with a wrecked, gasping sob. She stiffens, then exhales, slowly and steadily wrapping her arms around Masaru in return.

  “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  The sobs from Masaru crack free like a dam, unable to hold them back as they come muffled against Norm’s chest. Her tears streak down her face in wild, wet arches, not because Norm was leaving- but because for the first time, she was going somewhere Masaru couldn’t follow.

  “…I’m scared.” She finally whispers, a soft hic coming from her throat. “I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

  “Then don’t let it be.” Norm replies equally softly. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Then promise you’ll remember me when you get famous.” Her glistening eyes peek over the tear-soaked hems of Normcore’s jacket.

  “I will.” She lets out a soft chuckle, like a wind chime in a breeze. Her hand ruffles through Masaru’s hair softly. “I will never, ever forget you as long as I live.”

  Silence. Neither speak a word as they hold each other beneath the starry summer sky, the buzz of the station fading into static as they embrace a moment of solitude as one.

  Finally, reluctantly, Masaru loosens her hold.

  “Promise me you’ll figure things out.”

  “I will.” Masaru nods, lips trembling.

  “Thanks, Saru.” Norm takes a step back, then another. Each one feels heavier than the last. Finally, she lifts a hand in a small parting wave. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Masaru raises her own hand, mirroring the gesture even as her vision blurs again.

  A cleared throat, gentle but firm, cuts through the air. Goutarou stands a few paces away, his suitcase at his feet, a ticket held loosely in his hand.

  “Our connection is soon, Masaru. Let us proceed.”

  Normcore watches as the two turn towards the East end of the terminal, their bodies swallowed by the tide of passengers. Only when the platform empties does she finally breathe again.

  And for the first time, she doesn’t feel quite so lost.