Lunar startled, the thought snapping apart the moment Saiya spoke.
"I— n-nothing," she said too quickly, straightening and turning her face away just a fraction. Heat crept up her ears, and she focused very hard on the tree behind Saiya, hoping that would be enough to hide it.
It wasn't.
She squinted at Lunar, lips pursing as her head tilted to the side. "That was fast," she said. "You didn't even think about it."
"I did," Lunar replied, immediately defensive. "I just… think really fast."
Saiya's expression scrunched further, disbelief written plainly across her face. "That's not how thinking works."
Lunar shifted her weight, already preparing to stand. "It is for me."
"Nope," Saiya said, stepping closer. "You get that look when you're lying."
"I do not."
"You do too."
"I really don't."
Saiya took another step, invading Lunar's space just enough to make her pause. "Then what were you thinking about?"
"Nothing," Lunar insisted, backing up half a step.
Saiya followed.
"Nothing nothing?"
"Yes."
"Not even a little something?"
"Absolutely none." Lunar insisted, backing up half a step. Saiya followed—and leaned in just a bit too far.
Her foot clipped Lunar's as she shifted her weight, the careful balance she always kept slipping for once. There was a startled sound—half gasp, half yelp—and suddenly Saiya was tipping forward.
"Oh—!"
She collided with Lunar, momentum carrying them both down in an ungraceful tangle of limbs. The ground rushed up, leaves scattering as they landed with a soft thump, Saiya ending up sprawled atop Lunar, blinking in stunned silence.
They froze. For a second, neither of them moved.
Saiya blinked down at her. Lunar stared back, wide-eyed, her heart thudding more from surprise than the fall itself.
"…Oops," Saiya said after a beat.
Lunar swallowed. "You're… on me."
"Oh." Saiya shifted instinctively, only to fumble and tighten her hold instead. "Sorry—wait—no—okay, that made it worse."
"It's fine," Lunar blurted, the words escaping louder than she meant them to.
As if not letting the moment pass, Saiya stayed exactly where she was, waiting for Lunar to laugh or complain or push her away—something to keep the moment light. When none of that came, her gaze shifted, really settling on Lunar's face for the first time since they'd fallen.
Up close like this, there was no distance to hide behind.
Saiya's eyes traced her expression without meaning to, the tension still lingering in Lunar's jaw, the way her breath hadn't quite steadied, the faint tightness around her eyes that didn't match the words she'd just said. It was the same look Saiya had seen before—brief, subtle, easy to miss if you weren't watching for it.
The playful curve of her mouth slowly softened. "…You weren't thinking about nothing," Saiya said at last, her voice quieter, more certain than teasing.
Lunar tensed beneath her.
Saiya didn't sound accusatory. Just observant. As if she'd put a few small pieces together and didn't like what they formed.
Her gaze stayed on Lunar's eyes. "Your face does that," she added softly. "When you say one thing, but you're somewhere else."
Saiya's voice dropped, losing its teasing edge. "Were you thinking about before?" she asked. "About your run. Right before you collapsed."
Lunar didn't answer right away.
Saiya didn't press harder, but she didn't move away either, her hands still resting over Lunar's wrists —not trapping now, just there.
Her eyes stayed on Lunar's face, open and earnest. "…Was it that?" she asked again, gently.
And this time, Lunar didn't look away.
She drew in a slow breath, eyes fixed on Saiya's. There was nothing playful in them now—only concern, plain and unguarded. It made pretending feel pointless.
"…I wasn't thinking about it just now," Lunar said at last, her voice quiet. "Not before you asked."
Saiya didn't interrupt.
"But I do think about it," Lunar continued, choosing each word carefully. "Sometimes. It just… comes back. I don't always notice when it does."
Saiya's brows drew together. She stayed where she was, but her hands loosened slightly, no longer pinning—just resting, as if making sure Lunar was still there.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she spoke, and her voice sounded different from usual—smaller, steadier, stripped of its usual brightness.
"When you ran," Saiya said, "I got scared."
Lunar's chest tightened.
"I was watching really closely," Saiya continued. "I always do. At first it was fine—you were there. I could feel you, the way I usually can." She hesitated, fingers tightening slightly against Lunar's wrists, "But the longer you ran… the harder it got."
Her eyes flicked away for a moment, then returned, resolved but unsteady.
"It was like you were fading," she said. "Not slowing down. You were still moving, but less… here. Just… slipping away." Her fingers curled unconsciously against Lunar's wrists. "I didn't know how to explain it. I just knew something was wrong."
Lunar's throat felt tighter with each admission.
"And then you collapsed," Saiya said, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady. "And for a second—just a second—I thought…" She stopped, jaw tightening. "…I thought I lost you."
The words hung between them.
Saiya took a shallow breath. "You're my first friend," she said, simply. "And when you fell like that, I really thought you were gone. Forever."
Her eyes shone, but she didn't cry. She just looked at Lunar, open and scared in a way that made the moment feel far too real for how it had started.
"I don't ever want to feel that again," she finished, barely above a whisper.
Guilt washed over Lunar all at once, sudden and suffocating. She hadn't meant to scare Saiya—hadn't even known she could. The idea that her running, something she herself didn't fully understand yet, had made Saiya feel as though she was disappearing twisted painfully in her chest.
"I'm sorry," Lunar said, the apology slipping out before she could think better of it. "I didn't know. I really didn't mean to make you feel like that."
Saiya's expression shifted almost immediately.
She pouted—not in an exaggerated, playful way, but just enough to show that she wasn't satisfied. Her cheeks puffed faintly as she leaned back a little, still straddling Lunar but no longer hovering over her.
"I'll forgive you," Saiya said, matter-of-fact, "but only if you tell me the truth."
Lunar blinked. "The truth?"
"About what really happened," Saiya replied, her tone firmer now. "Why you collapsed. Not the fake version. The real one."
Lunar's mouth opened, reflexively ready with a practiced deflection—but Saiya's eyes narrowed just a fraction, sharp despite her soft features.
"…You're lying," Saiya added calmly.
Lunar froze. "I—what? I didn't even say anything yet."
Saiya tilted her head. "You were about to."
Lunar stared up at her, genuinely caught off guard. "How do you know?"
For a moment, Saiya hesitated, as if weighing how much she wanted to reveal. Then her shoulders eased, and she answered simply.
"I can tell," she said. "I've always been able to."
She shifted her weight so she was sitting more comfortably, hands resting lightly on Lunar's arms now instead of pinning them.
"I can't run," Saiya continued, voice steady. "My heart won't let me. You already know that." She gave a small, almost casual shrug. "Mama says when one thing doesn't work, something else gets sharper. It's like… a trade."
Lunar stayed silent, listening.
"My eyes are really good," Saiya said. "Not just seeing far. I notice things. Little things." She gestured between them. "How your breathing changes when you're nervous. How your shoulders tense when you're hiding something. How your eyes don't quite focus the same when you're sad."
Something tight formed in Lunar's chest—not fear, but the unsettling sensation of being seen too clearly.
"I can tell when you're lying," Saiya finished softly. "And when you're hurting. And when you're trying to pretend you're okay."
She met Lunar's gaze, unblinking.
"That's how I know you're not telling me everything," Saiya said. "That's how I know you."
"And it kills me knowing that you're struggling... being aware how much you're holding back everything so quietly and I can't even do anything about it." She hesitated, then added, almost pleading, "So please, Lunar. Tell me. Let me be somewhere you can put those things. At least let me be a place for you to vent all those things on."
Lunar drew in a slow, steady breath, eyes drifting past Saiya for a moment as if she were looking at something only she could see. When she spoke, her voice came out low and careful, like she was afraid the words might collapse if she moved too fast.
"There's a place I end up in sometimes," she said. "That's what happened on the track. That's why I fell." Lunar continued.
"I was running, and then it feels like I slip—like I'm not fully there anymore. And suddenly I'm somewhere else." She swallowed. "It's this huge, empty plane. Everything's black and smooth, like polished obsidian. No horizon. No sky. Nothing to tell you where you are or how far you've gone. Just space that keeps going."
Her eyes lowered.
"When I'm there, I can't run," Lunar said quietly. "I move my legs, but nothing answers. The ground doesn't push back. There's no rhythm to fall into, no wind to follow. It's like that world refuses to acknowledge me." Her fingers curled slightly. "I think that's why I collapsed. I was still moving on the track… but I wasn't really there anymore."
Saiya's expression tightened, concern deepening, but she stayed silent.
"And then," Lunar went on, hesitating, "there's someone there too. I know her. But I don't know what she truly is. I just know she's always there when that place appears." She shook her head faintly. "She told me the plane isn't a punishment. It's what builds up when I keep doing the same thing over and over. When I keep running without facing something."
"She told me the way I run isn't really running," Lunar said, the words sounding uncertain even to herself. "That I let everything else lead me. The rhythm. The ground. The wind. That I don't choose anything—I just let it happen." Her brows knit together. "But I don't understand why that's supposed to be wrong."
Lunar's grip tightened in the grass.
"But that's how I was taught," she continued, more insistently now. "That's how my mother ran. I remember following her like that and feeling alive. Like I was part of the world instead of fighting it." Her brows drew together. "She told me my mother didn't run that way. Not really. That when my mother ran alone, she chose every step herself."
Confusion flickered across her face.
"I don't know what that means," she admitted. "I don't know what the difference is. I only remember how it felt to follow her, free and unshackled." She looked lost now, gaze drifting before returning to Saiya. "All I know is that when I run the way I always have, I end up back on that plane. And there, I can't move. I can't do anything."
She looked back up at Saiya, uncertainty fully exposed now. "She said I'm honest with everything except myself. That I let the world decide so I don't have to." Lunar's shoulders slumped. "I don't know if that means I'm doing something wrong… or if I just don't know how to do it any other way."
Saiya didn't respond immediately.
She was still straddling Lunar, hands resting lightly on the grass near Lunar's shoulders, but her gaze had gone distant—focused inward, the way it did when she watched races. Then, gradually, her gaze sharpened and lifted back to Lunar.
Something changed. It wasn't sudden in a dramatic way—no gasp, no sharp intake of breath—but something in her eyes clicked into place, like two pieces finally lining up. Her brows eased, her shoulders relaxed, and for a brief, confusing moment, she looked almost… relieved.
Lunar noticed immediately. "…What?" Lunar asked, unease creeping into her voice. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Saiya didn't answer right away. She glanced down, then back up at Lunar, her gaze sharper now, more focused.
"That's why," she said quietly.
"Why what?"
Saiya shifted her weight, pushing herself off Lunar just enough to sit back on her heels. "That's why I couldn't feel you," she said. "When you ran."
Lunar frowned. "I was right there."
Saiya shook her head, slow and certain. "You were moving. But you weren't running." She gestured faintly at the space around them, at the garden, the air. "Everything else was. The ground, the wind, the rhythm. They were all moving around you… and you just let them carry you."
Her eyes returned to Lunar's face, earnest and certain. "There wasn't anything for me to feel," she said. "Not you."
Before Lunar could respond—before she could even fully process that—Saiya stood.
Lunar startled, instinctively reaching out. "Saichan—?"
But Saiya had already taken off.
Not fast at first. Just a light jog across the grass, bare feet barely stirring a sound as she cut through the garden path and headed toward the open stretch beyond the trees, leaving Lunar scrambling to her feet behind her.
"S-Saichan!" Lunar scrambled to her feet. "Wait— you can't—!"
Her heart lurched painfully in her chest. Saiya wasn't supposed to do this. She wasn't supposed to run, not like that, Lunar broke into a run after her immediately, panic sharpening every step.
"Saichan, stop!" she called. "Your heart—!"
Saiya didn't turn around. She didn't slow down either.
If anything, she sped up.
Lunar stared, disbelief creeping in as the distance between them refused to close. Saiya's form stayed just out of reach, small and determined, her stride clean and efficient in a way Lunar hadn't expected. She wasn't sloppy or careless—she was precise, economical, moving like someone who knew exactly how her body worked.
A thought slipped into Lunar's mind before she could stop it. If her heart had been healthy… what kind of uma musume would she have been? How fast could she run? Who she might have rivaled? What stories would have carried her name?
But it isn't.
The realization sent a sharper spike of fear through her chest. "Saichan!" Lunar shouted again, lungs burning as she pushed harder. "You have to stop!"
Still nothing.
Saiya kept running, breath growing heavier now, her shoulders tensing, her pace straining—but she refused to slow. Lunar could see it clearly, every uneven inhale, every sign she was pushing herself past where she should.
Panic surged. I have to catch her.
The thought hit with a force that startled her. Lunar stopped trying to listen. She didn't wait for rhythm to settle around her, didn't search for the ground's guidance, didn't let the wind decide how fast she should go. She ran because she needed to—because worry, urgency, and something fiercely protective collided in her chest all at once, leaving no room for hesitation.
Her breath tore free, ragged, loud in her ears, and for once she didn't try to smooth it out. The emotions she'd been holding back spilled free, tangling with resolve, sharpening into something fierce and singular. She wasn't disappearing into the run anymore. She was there, every step deliberate, every stride chosen.
The world responded differently this time.
The ground firmed beneath her feet, not guiding her stride nor yielding to it, but meeting her halfway—solid and dependable. The wind's voice softened, no longer urging her faster or slowing her down, simply moving alongside her in quiet agreement. Even the rhythm she usually followed bent subtly, her pace and the world's answering each other, settling into the same shared cadence.
She accelerated, surprised at how naturally it came. How everything, harmonized..?
The distance between them shrank quickly, Saiya's small figure growing clearer with each step until Lunar could see the tension in her shoulders, the strain in her breathing.
"Saichan—!" She reached her and wrapped her arms around Saiya, lifting her cleanly off the ground. Their combined momentum carried them forward a few unsteady steps before Lunar managed to slow and stop, holding Saiya tightly as her own breath came hard and fast,
Lunar's heart slammed painfully as she looked down.
Saiya's face had gone pale, the healthy color drained from her cheeks, lips tinged faintly blue. Her breathing was shallow and uneven against Lunar's shoulder, each breath a little too far apart. She was trembling now, sweat cooling rapidly on her skin..
"No— no, no," Lunar murmured, tightening her grip at once. She lowered them carefully to the grass and cradled Saiya close, one hand braced protectively behind her head, the other drawing her in against her chest. "Saichan— hey— look at me. Please. Breathe. Slow, okay? I'm here."
Saiya's lashes fluttered. Then she smiled.
It was small, exhausted, but unmistakably happy—like she'd reached something she'd been searching for.
"I finally felt it," Saiya murmured, her voice thin but clear enough to reach Lunar. Her fingers twitched weakly, brushing against Lunar's sleeve as if to make sure she was real. "Your run."
Lunar's chest tightened, fear and relief tangling painfully together. "Don't talk," she said softly, even as her voice shook. "Just stay with me."
"I did feel you," Saiya went on anyway, stubborn even now. Her eyes struggled to stay open, unfocused but warm. "You weren't… gone anymore. You were right there." A faint breath of a laugh escaped her. "It was really beautiful."
Lunar swallowed hard.
"I want to see it," Saiya added quietly. "With my own eyes. Next time."
That was enough.
Lunar gathered her up in one smooth motion, lifting Saiya securely into her arms, careful of her head, her chest, her fragile, precious weight. Saiya let out a faint sound of surprise but didn't resist, her body already too tired.
"I've got you," Lunar whispered fiercely. "I'm taking you back. Hold on to me."
She ran. Her steps were sure, each one placed with intention, driven by urgency and an unwavering need to protect what she held. The world around her shifted—not suddenly, not loudly, but enough to be felt. The air seemed to draw closer, the light thinning just a little, as if everything nearby had leaned in.
Something gathered around her as she moved.
It wasn't bright. If anything, it muted what was already there. A faint dimness edged with soft, red light, subtle enough that it might have gone unnoticed if you weren't looking for it. It moved with her, close and wrapped around her in waves, like a shadow that knew exactly where it belonged.
Saiya's vision blurred as the garden smeared into color and motion, but she still saw it. Through the haze of exhaustion, she noticed the way the space around Lunar seemed to bend, how the light no longer fell quite the same.
"…A lunar eclipse..?" she murmured weakly, more wonder than clarity in her voice.
Her fingers curled faintly into Lunar's shirt. Then her eyes slipped shut, breath evening out just enough as consciousness finally gave way.