Lunar is running.
The wind burned against her cheeks, cold air tearing past her ears as the world blurred at the edges, colors smearing into streaks with every desperate stride. Her breath came fast and shallow, each inhale scraping her lungs as her legs drove forward on instinct alone.
Saiya clung tightly to her back, small arms looped around Lunar's shoulders, grip firm despite the jolting pace. Her tails streamed behind her, brushing against Lunar's sides with every pounding step. Saiya didn't say a word—she didn't need to. She trusted Lunar completely, even as the ground thundered beneath them and the distance stretched farther and farther behind.
Each footfall hit harder than the last, as if Lunar were trying to outrun the crushing weight pressing down on her chest.
None of this was planned.
It hadn't been a decision. It hadn't even been a thought. It had just… happened.
The image rose in her mind again, the momiji tree she had slept beneath more times than she could count, its branches wide and sheltering, leaves burning red and gold against the sky. The quiet beneath it. The sense of safety she had always felt there.
Aunt Autumn, kneeling beneath it, unmoving.
And then she saw the flowers. Red spider lilies, scarlet like spilled bloods laying gently atop her mother's grave.
Lunar's thoughts had shattered the instant she saw them.
Flowers.
Her heart had dropped straight through her chest.
She hadn't brought anything.
No flowers. No offering. Nothing at all.
She had come to meet momma—her mother—for the first time since leaving her behind, empty-handed.
The realization struck with such force it sent her body moving before her mind could catch up, legs launching her the opposite way as if the shame itself had shoved her back.
How could I…?
The thought burned hot and scorching, the pain searing in her chest. Everyone else had their excuses— lack of relationship, prior knowledge, distance, but what about her?
She was momma's child, yet she had nothing to place before her resting place.
Nothing to offer but words that refused to form, choking off in her throat before they could ever escape.
Selfish.
The word echoed mercilessly in her mind, over and over again.
She hadn't thought about it. Not even once. Too wrapped up in her own memories. Her own grief. Her own fear of facing that cold stone and what it represented.
And now—
Now it felt unforgivable.
Her feet had carried her away, slipping out from behind everyone's backs, head lowered, heart pounding too loudly in her ears to hear anything else.
Everyone except,
"Lunar?"
Saiya.
She had been close, close enough to notice the way Lunar's body tensed, the way her gaze fixed forward and turned away, breaking into a run towards the house. The photograph slipped from Lunar's grasp and fell to the ground, forgotten at that moment—but that was the least of her concern.
She ran after her.
Lunar didn't notice at first. Not until she had put real distance between herself and the house—hundreds of meters, the grave and the others shrinking into the background—when the sound of hurried, uneven breathing reached her ears.
She skidded to a stop, shoes scraping against the ground. Her heart lurched painfully.
She spun around—and there was Saiya, bent forward slightly, hands on her knees, breathing hard as she tried to catch up. Her face was flushed and sweating from exertion, chest rising and falling faster than it should have.
"Saichan—!" Lunar rushed back to her in an instant, panic flaring hot and sharp. "Why did you follow me! You shouldn't have—!"
Her hands hovered uselessly in the air, torn between steadying Saiya and clawing at herself in frustration. The sight of her struggling to breathe twisted something ugly and tight inside Lunar's chest.
I did this.
The thought struck viciously.
She had run off. She had panicked. She had dragged Saiya into it. Always causing trouble. Always making things worse.
The bad thoughts surged all at once, piling on top of each other until they threatened to drown her.
"I'm sorry," Lunar blurted out, words tumbling over themselves. "I shouldn't have run away. I didn't think it through. I made you chase after me—I'm so sorry, Saichan, I—"
Her voice cracked, guilt and fear tangling together as she stood there, unable to stop apologizing, until—
A hand closed around hers.
Lunar froze.
Saiya straightened, still breathing hard but smiling anyway, silver eyes soft as they met Lunar's panicked gaze. She squeezed Lunar's hand once, calming her.
"Hey," Saiya said gently. "What are you apologizing for, silly?"
Lunar blinked.
"You didn't make me chase after you," Saiya continued, voice comforting despite her breathlessness. "I chose to run after you myself, don't take credit for that."
Lunar's lips parted, but no words came out.
Saiya tilted her head slightly, still holding onto her hand, thumb brushing lightly against Lunar's knuckles."You know, I could've told Mommy or anyone right away. I could've stopped you earlier and saved us both the sprint." She shrugged lightly. "But I didn't."
"…Why didn't you?" Lunar asked faintly.
Saiya smiled, simple and sincere. "Because I figured you had a reason. Didn't you?"
Something in Lunar's chest cracked. Her shoulders slumped, the tension draining out of her all at once, replaced by something raw and aching. She looked down, fingers curling around Saiya's hand.
"I… I felt embarrassed," Lunar admitted quietly. "When I saw the flowers Aunt Autumn put on Momma's grave." Her voice wavered. "I realized I didn't bring anything. Not even a single flower."
The shame surfaced again.
"It made me feel selfish," she continued, swallowing hard. "Like I was thinking only about myself. So I thought—if I could just get something, anything—maybe it would be okay."
"Pink poppies," she said softly, almost like a confession. "They're her favorite."
Her grip tightened.
"There's a flower botique near the middle of town. Momma loved going there… she knew the owner. They used to talk for ages every time we stopped by." A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips before fading. "I just… I wanted to get some before I went to see her. I didn't want to stand there empty-handed again."
Saiya listened without interrupting, eyes never leaving Lunar's face. When she finished, Saiya nodded slowly.
"I see," she said. Then, brighter, "That makes sense."
Lunar looked up, surprised at the swift acceptance.
"If that's what you want to do," Saiya continued, giving Lunar's hand another reassuring squeeze, "then let's go!"
Lunar faltered. Her gaze drifted down the road toward town, long and winding, disappearing into the distance, then flicked back to Saiya. Worry crept back into her expression.
"But… it's pretty far," she said quietly. "I don't want you to strain yourself more than you already have. Maybe we should go back. Everyone's probably worried, and you already ran so much because of me—"
Saiya laughed it off, light and easy, as if Lunar had said something silly.
"If that's what you're worried about," she said, waving it off, "then just carry me."
Lunar blinked. "…Huh?"
Saiya didn't wait for her to process it. She stepped closer and hopped lightly, already angling herself toward Lunar's back. "You carried me before, didn't you? Just do it again!"
For a moment, Lunar could only stand there, stunned. Then a small, quiet laugh slipped out of her.
She crouched instinctively, letting Saiya climb onto her back, arms looping around her shoulders with easy familiarity. The weight settled there felt… right, comforting. As if Saiya belonged there, as if that space had always been meant for her.
"…Okay," Lunar murmured, hands reaching back to secure Saiya's legs. "Hold on tight."
She didn't give herself time to second-guess it.
The moment Saiya tightened her grip, Lunar pushed off the ground and sprinted forward, the road rushing out to meet her. The wind tore past again—but this time, the cold thoughts gnawing at her heart began to melt, chased away by the steady warmth pressed against her back.
Lunar took a sharp left at the bend in the road, her feet barely slowing as she leaned into the turn. Gravel skittered beneath her stride.The curve opened into streets she hadn't seen in years—yet her legs knew them anyway, carrying her forward without hesitation.
The old bus stop flashed by first.
The metal bench was still there, yellow paint chipped and sun-faded, just like it always had. Lunar remembered sitting there with Momma on hot summer afternoons, legs swinging back and forth, listening to the cicadas and promises of we'll get something cold after. The memory tugged at her chest, but she didn't slow.
Houses followed—some tall, some squat, packed close together or set back just enough to breathe, each carrying its own weight of familiarity.
She passed the corner where Mr. Fujiwara's izakaya stood, the paper lanterns hanging even in daylight. He used to ruffle her hair whenever she came by with Momma, sneaking her grilled skewers when he thought Momma wasn't looking, she always does. The door slid open just as Lunar sped past, and the man froze mid-step.
"…Was that—?" Mr. Fujiwara muttered, eyes wide. "Lunar…?"
Passing down the street, Ayaka-oneesan's house came into view. The small front yard still had the same swing set she would admire from afar. Sakura-chan was there, swinging by herself as Ayaka-oneesan busied herself with the laundry nearby. Lunar remembered those awkward afternoons at the playground—they were not close friends, but close enough to share snacks and chase shadows until Ayaka-oneesan or Momma came to get them.
The wind tore past the pair of sisters.
Ayaka looked up as the laundry fluttered violently, clothespins rattling. "What was that…?" she murmured, frowning in confusion. "Did that old man Fuji finally bought a motorcycle—"
"—THAT WAS LUNAR!!" Sakura jumped off the swing so hard it rocked backward, grabbing Ayaka's sleeve with both hands, eyes wide and shining. "SHE CAME BACK! I TOLD YOU SHE WOULD!"
A little farther on stood Kaneko-Obaasan's snack stand, its shutters half-open. The old woman was visible inside, counting change like she always did. Lunar used to stop there almost every day. Kaneko-Obaasan would hand her random snacks for free—sometimes delicious, sometimes so strange Lunar wished she'd lost her sense of taste entirely.
And yet… she always came back whenever she had the time. Just, not today. She had something more important to do.
Kaneko blinked as the two small silver and pink figures streaked past in a blur of motion and sound. Her hand stopped mid-count. "…Lunar-chan?" she murmured, peering after them. "…Didn't someone from Australia came to adopt her at the funeral…?"
Still, Lunar ran on, unaware of the eyes and all the whispers trailing behind. She took another turn—then the road widened.
The open field appeared on her right, stretching wide and familiar, and beyond it stood the local Uma Musume academy.
It was small, modest, but lovingly maintained. The track looped lazily around the grounds, its dirt packed smooth from years of use, grass trimmed short along the edges. A handful of already matured Uma Musume were running, feet kicking up light dust as they rounded the curve. Their laughter carried faintly over the field between breaths, the sound of effort and youth mingling in the open air.
Lunar's gaze flickered there for just a heartbeat.
I promised, she thought distantly.
She had promised Sato-ojisan she'd enroll once she was old enough. Promised she'd run on that track. Promised she'd grow, stronger, faster—an uma musume worth supporting.
She didn't know if she ever could now.
As if summoned by the thought, The tall, fully suited elder stood near the fence, hands tucked under his pockets as he oversaw a group of students warming up from afar. He was mid-thought when a sudden rush of wind tore past the road.
He looked up, and a silver blur shot by.
Sato's thoughts stopped as his eyes widened. "…So fast," he breathed, "Is there a hidden gem I don't know about…?"
He didn't move—only watched, stunned, as the figure streaked down the road. Right then and there, realization struck.
Another figure clung to the child's shoulders, pink hair fluttering wildly. The image tugged at something old and tender in his chest. His thoughts drifted, to a bright little filly who used to be carried around the same way, the smile and laughter following her everywhere. It's not fair that the little filly had become the one carrying instead.
"…Ah," he murmured softly, understanding blooming too late to stop her. "So it's you.."
The road swallowed her up moments later.
Behind Lunar, Saiya tightened her arms just a little, resting her chin near Lunar's shoulder. She felt the shift—something heavy and sad passing through Lunar's emotions.
"You okay?" Saiya asked quietly.
Lunar nodded once. Her expression didn't change, eyes fixed straight ahead, but her grip on the road hardened with resolve.
The town continued to blur by. Voices followed in fragments—surprise, recognition, disbelief—but Lunar didn't look back. She just ran.
Soon, the town center came into view. The road narrowed as buildings pressed closer together, shops lining the streets in tighter clusters. Signs hung low overhead, windows close enough that reflections overlapped and folded into one another. It wasn't crowded—not yet—but there were enough people walking about, the occasional car passing through, that Lunar eased her sprint into a controlled jog.
Her footsteps softened. Her breathing steadied.
People turned as they passed.
A pair of women paused near a storefront, eyes following the sight of Lunar carrying Saiya on her back. "Look at those two…" one murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. "She's carrying her," the other said softly. "How cute."
An elderly man sitting in front of his shop squinted, recognition dawning a second later. "…That's Guair's daughter, isn't it?" His voice was thick with surprise.
"I thought she went overseas," another man said.
"Well," the elderly man replied, watching Lunar jog past, "I'm just glad she looks like she's doing well."
The words reached Lunar anyway, slipping past her focus and settling quietly in her chest. She didn't slow, didn't react—just let them exist as her feet kept moving, carrying her forward.
Saiya shifted slightly on Lunar's back, careful not to throw off her balance. She peered over Lunar's shoulder, eyes bright open despite the wind brushing over occasionally. "Hey, Lunar," she said. "How much farther is the florist shop?"
Lunar glanced ahead, scanning the familiar stretch of road as it curved between buildings she half-remembered. "Not far," she answered. "Just a bit more. three… maybe four streets."
Saiya hummed thoughtfully. She went quiet for a moment, fingers tightening just a little where they rested on Lunar's shoulders. "…Do you think everyone's panicking by now?"
Lunar winced inwardly. The image came unbidden—Aunt Nel's explosive anger, Aunt Tycoon's icy, controlled fury, and—Wait… Miss Tazuna…wont she scold us badly too..?
Saiya shuddered dramatically against her back. "An angry Mom is scary enough," she muttered. "But Aunt Tycoon too? That's terrifying… She's going to force-feed me medicine and tie me to the bed!" She gasped, committing fully to the horror. "Then I'll never get to see you again! Oh, the misery!"
Lunar let out a small laugh at the silly imaginations and situations Saiya came up with. "They certainly won't be murdering us, but I can imagine the consequences will be dire," she admitted. "But I'll take responsibility for you. You don't have to worry, Saichan. This is on me."
There was a brief pause before two sudden squishes invaded her sight.
"—Ow?!" Lunar flinched as Saiya suddenly stretched her cheeks from behind, fingers pressing in without mercy. Her steps faltered for half a second before she balanced herself. "Saichan! What was that for?!"
Saiya laughed, bright and unrepentant, leaning forward until her face appeared right beside Lunar's vision, her weight settling comfortably against Lunar's back. "For not taking my predictions seriously," she said cheerfully, "and for trying to shoulder everything again."
She gave Lunar's cheek one last, gentler tug before letting go. "I told you already, didn't I? I chose to run after you. I chose not to tell anyone." Her voice softened, but the conviction stayed. "So I'm guilty too."
Saiya grinned, silver eyes shining. "That makes us partners in crime."
Lunar's face heated instantly. Her ears flicked back as color rushed up her cheeks, the word partners flashing through her mind again and again, unhelpful and far too loud. She didn't say anything—couldn't—but the embarrassment sat heavy in her chest all the same.
She shook her head quickly, forcing the thought aside, eyes locking back onto the road ahead. Her breathing steadied as she focused, though she was suddenly very aware of Saiya's warmth pressed against her back, making her heart stumble. Focus, she told herself.
Lunar slowed further as she reached the deeper part of alleys, her jog easing into a careful pace as she began taking turns—left, then right—checking herself each time, just to be sure.
This was the way momma used to take.
She didn't remember it by street signs or names. She remembered it by feeling—by the small, almost insignificant things momma used to point out as they walked together. Lunar followed that memory now, trusting it more than any map.
She passed a small bakery on the corner, the one that always smelled too sweet of sugar for her liking. A closed shop with faded posters in the window—momma used to stop there sometimes, peering in to see if it had finally reopened. It never had. A vending machine stood nearby, stocked entirely with corn soup cans. Lunar had never once seen anyone buy one.
She turned again.
A wooden bench came into view, worn smooth with age. An orange cat slept curled atop it, tail flicking lazily. Someone had arranged flowers around the base of the bench, fresh and tidy.
Her faze flickered around until she finally saw it.
The flower boutique sat quietly between two modest shops, its wide glass window framed with pale wood. Buckets of flowers lined the front, seasonal blooms arranged with care—colors blending gently, never clashing. Handwritten tags dangled from twine, the ink slightly faded. Warm light spilled from inside, soft and welcoming, and the faint scent of greenery and petals drifted out into the street.
Lunar slowed to a stop in front of it. "…We're here," She adjusted her body, already preparing to step inside—
"Oh!" Saiya said brightly. "Then you can put me down now."
Lunar blinked, as if only just remembering. "O—oh! Of course—! Sorry!" she stammered, crouching quickly so Saiya could slide off.
As Saiya's weight left her, the warmth Lunar had grown used to vanished all at once. She straightened slowly, arms feeling strangely light, almost hollow.
…It's colder.
The thought slipped in before she could stop it.
"Okay!" Saiya said brightly, as if nothing had changed at all. She reached out and grabbed Lunar's hand without hesitation. "Let's go."
The sudden contact snapped Lunar out of her thoughts. She looked down, startled—then her fingers curled back around Saiya's, grip tightening just a little. Side by side, they stepped forward.
The door opened with a soft jingle. Small bells chimed overhead, clear and gentle, announcing their arrival.
Inside, the shop was quiet.
Lunar and Saiya paused just past the threshold, their eyes instinctively scanning the space. Buckets of flowers lined the walls and counters—fresh-cut stems resting in clear water, petals displayed in vibrant colours. The air smelled of greenery and clean earth, soothing and alive. No one stood at the counter. No movement behind it either.
For a brief moment, no sound existed except for the fading sound of the bell. Then a voice floated in from somewhere deeper inside, calm and sing-song, like a breeze passing through leaves.
"Welcome~ Please wait just a second."
Footsteps followed—unhurried and soft. A woman emerged from behind the counter, wiping her hands lightly on a cloth. At first she was looking down, focused on what she'd been doing, but as she lifted her head, her gaze drifted toward the door.
And then it stopped.
She looked to be middle-aged but with a beauty youth would be jealous of, with wavy, loose chestnut hair framing her face, streaks of grey woven through it as a reminder from time. Her expression was kind and warm, pink eyes shaped by years of seeing and understanding. She stood a little shorter than Aunt More, but taller than Aunt Tycoon, carrying herself in an easy and welcoming way.
The moment her eyes met Lunar's, her already kind expression melted into something deeper.
Recognition bloomed as the warmth she remembered all too well spread across the woman's face, and a wide smile broke through—bright, heartfelt, exactly the same as it had always been on those countless days Lunar had come here hand in hand with momma.
"I…" the woman breathed, disbelief and fondness entwined in her voice.
Lunar met that gaze, her own voice softer than usual, "…It's been a while, Hana-san."