Oscietra's gaze flicked briefly to Black Caviar.
"Not like you expect anything from me," she said flatly.
The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. They struck with the kind of weight that only long-held resentment could give.
Black Caviar stilled, her expression freezing for just a moment before she masked it again. She didn't reply. The silence that followed said enough.
Oscietra turned away first.
She crossed the living room with unhurried steps, the soft sound of her slippers barely registering against the floor. In her other hand, a second bowl—mint ice cream, untouched—and held it out toward Lunar.
Lunar blinked, startled, then accepted it with both hands. "Thank you," she murmured, voice small.
Oscietra didn't sit. She remained standing nearby, arms loosely crossed, her attention fixed on Lunar. The look wasn't harsh. If anything, it was direct—measured, assessing, but not unkind.
"What Saiya did was her choice," Oscietra said evenly. "Just like what you did was yours." She paused, letting the distinction settle. "From what I heard, she's stable."
Lunar's grip tightened slightly around the bowl.
"She trusted you," Oscietra continued. "Enough to run for you. Enough to believe you'd catch her." Her tone softened, just a fraction. "And you did."
Lunar shook her head faintly. "I was too late—"
"You weren't," Oscietra cut in. "You brought her back. That matters."
Silence stretched again, but it was gentler this time.
"If her condition improves like the doctors expect," Oscietra added, "then her choice wasn't foolish. It was informed." She met Lunar's gaze without wavering. "So don't punish yourself for it."
Lunar swallowed, throat tight. "…I need to thank her," she said quietly.
Oscietra nodded once. "You should. When she wakes up."
The room fell silent again, the hum of the television barely noticeable beneath it.
Black Caviar spoke then. "You know what happened?" she asked.
Oscietra didn't bristle this time. She simply nodded. "Yes. Lunar told me." After a beat, she added, "At least what she was willing to."
Black Caviar's gaze sharpened. "…Then tell me."
Oscietra exhaled through her nose, clearly irritated at being drawn further in, but she didn't leave. She shifted, leaning back against the sofa, gaze flicking briefly to Lunar before returning to Black Caviar.
"She said Saiya told her the way she runs isn't honest," Oscietra said. "That Lunar lets everything else carry her instead of choosing for herself. Lunar didn't understand it, so Saiya ran to show her."
Her tone stayed even. "Saiya pushed herself. Lunar chased her. Lunar said she stopped thinking and just ran because she had to." She paused. "That's when the pressure appeared—when the [Zone] surfaced. She didn't know what it was, only that it felt like everything she'd been holding back came out at once."
Oscietra folded her arms. "Then Saiya collapsed."
Black Caviar nodded slowly, the pieces settling into place. "So it really was her [Zone], after all…"
Lunar, who had been sitting silently with her ice cream, lifted her head. "…You keep saying that word," she said, eyes moving between them. "Zone."
She hesitated, then asked, softer, "What is a [Zone]?"
Neither Black Caviar nor Oscietra answered immediately.
Black Caviar drew in a slow breath, considering how much to say. Oscietra, meanwhile, watched Lunar closely, expression neutral but attentive, as if measuring how ready she was to hear the answer.
At last, Black Caviar spoke.
"You deserve to know," she said calmly. "Especially if you carry it."
Lunar straightened without realizing it, attention fully fixed on her.
"A [Zone] isn't something you learn like a technique," Black Caviar continued, voice even. "It's a state. A moment where your resolve, your fear, your need to keep going becomes so focused that it pushes outward. "It doesn't change the world in a physical sense. It changes how the world responds to you."
Lunar frowned slightly, trying to picture it.
"You felt it when I ran," Black Caviar added. "When I took Saiya to the hospital."
Lunar blinked. "…That storm?"
"Yes," Black Caviar said. "That was mine."
Lunar tilted her head, expression genuinely puzzled. "So it's like… a real-life superpower? Can you summon lightning and attack people with it?"
Black Caviar stared at her.
Just stared.
A beat passed.
Oscietra let out a quiet, almost amused breath—something close to a laugh, rare enough to draw Black Caviar's attention.
Black Caviar looked at her, caught off guard. It had been years since she'd heard that sound. Oscietra almost immediately schooled her expression back into neutrality, but the moment had already passed.
She stepped closer and reached out, patting Lunar lightly on the head. "You really are a silly child," she said flatly. "Underneath that oddly distant personality of yours."
Lunar flushed faintly, ears warming.
"A [Zone] is conceptual," Oscietra continued. "It's born from an Uma Musume's mental state. It interferes with the world only in perception and pressure. Humans can't see it—some can feel it. While all Uma Musume can feel it and only a few can actually see it."
She glanced briefly toward Black Caviar, then back to Lunar.
"It can't hurt people directly," Oscietra said. "You're not throwing lightning or crushing buildings. It affects focus, awareness, rhythm. Zones takes different forms, some strengthen the user. Some disrupt others. Some sharpen resolve; some weigh opponents down. It depends on the runner—and the moment it manifests."
Lunar listened intently, spoon forgotten, ice cream slowly melting. "So…" she said after a moment, voice quiet, "it's dangerous…?"
"It's demanding," Black Caviar corrected evenly. "A [Zone] draws on your resolve and your body at the same time. If you don't understand it—or if you rely on it without restraint—it will take more than you realize."
Lunar lowered her gaze, nodding once.
"I'll teach you," Black Caviar added after a beat. "When you're ready. And when Saiya wakes up."
Black Caviar then glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:02 AM. "For now… It's late," she said. "We'll visit Saiya first thing in the morning. You'll need rest if you're going with me."
Lunar didn't hesitate this time. Her eyes brightened, the tension finally easing from her shoulders as the thought settled in. If she slept now, tomorrow would come sooner.
She nodded quickly, already turning toward the hallway, carefully lifting the bowl of half-melted ice cream. "Okay. I'll go to bed," she said, a quiet eagerness in her voice, as if rest itself were a step closer to seeing Saiya again.
She took a step toward the hallway, hesitated, then turned back.
Before either of them could react, Lunar stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Black Caviar's waist, pressing her face briefly against her side. It was quick, awkward, and entirely unplanned.
"Thank you," she mumbled.
Then, just as quickly, she darted to Oscietra and gave her a short, tight hug as well.
Oscietra stiffened in surprise.
Lunar's ears burned red as she immediately turned and fled down the hallway, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.
The house fell quiet again.
Black Caviar stood where she was, eyes slightly widened. After a moment, her shoulders eased, and something unguarded softened her expression—a small, warm smile she didn't bother to hide.
Oscietra noticed.
She glanced at Black Caviar from the corner of her eye. "You seem oddly fond of that child."
Black Caviar's gaze lingered on the hallway Lunar had disappeared down. When she spoke, her voice was lower, heavier.
"She's a good child," she said. "She lost her mother. She has no family left."
Her eyes drooped slightly, not with sorrow, but with resolve.
"The least I can do," she continued, "is make sure she grows up well. If that's how I pay off a debt… then so be it."
Oscietra said nothing. But she didn't look away.
Silence settled after Lunar's footsteps faded down the hall.
Oscietra watched the corridor for a moment longer, then spoke without looking at Black Caviar.
"So," she said flatly, "she really is that person's child."
Black Caviar nodded once. "Yes."
A pause.
Oscietra turned then, violet eyes cool and searching. "Do you only care about her because she's Guiar's daughter?"
The question landed harder than it sounded.
Black Caviar frowned immediately. "No," she replied, sharper than she intended. "That's not it."
Oscietra gave a short, humorless snort. "Good. Because projecting a mother onto her child would be cruel." Her gaze hardened. "Lunar isn't Guiar."
The words struck close to something old.
Black Caviar's posture stiffened. For a moment, she said nothing—then her voice came quieter, steadier. "I know. And I wouldn't do that." She drew a slow breath. "I wasn't the person I should've been before. I know that. But I've changed. I learned." Her eyes lowered. "I love all of my children. Regardless of who their mothers were."
She hesitated, then added, "That includes you."
Oscietra's jaw tightened. Agitation flickered across her face before she crossed her arms. "You changing doesn't erase what happened," she said. "It doesn't undo my mother's pain. Or mine."
Black Caviar met her gaze this time and nodded. "I know."
Oscietra clicked her tongue softly, irritation tightening her expression. Black Caviar's agreement—calm, accepting—only made it worse. She turned her head away, eyes fixing on nothing in particular.
That tone. That softness. She hated it.
Her thoughts slipped backward.
She had been younger then. Smaller. Still foolish enough to believe effort could grow love where none existed. That if she tried hard enough, if she was good enough, love would eventually follow.
She remembered reaching for Black Caviar's sleeve as they passed in the corridor, fingers brushing expensive fabric.
"Can you watch me train today?" she'd asked, carefully light, as if the answer didn't matter.
Black Caviar hadn't even broken stride.
"I'm busy."
Another day. Another attempt.
"We're having dinner together tonight, right?"
Black Caviar had glanced at her—brief, unreadable, already halfway gone.
"I've already eaten."
There was never anger in it. Never raised voices or sharp words. Just distance. Clean and absolute. Black Caviar back then had been all angles and efficiency—more title than presence, more obligation than person. Not cruel in what she did, but devastating in what she never gave.
Oscietra remembered standing there after each exchange, the space where Black Caviar had been still warm, the words she'd meant to say sinking back into her throat. Every time, she told herself she would try again later.
And then there was her mother.
She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, legs swinging slowly, staring at the floor as she asked the question she'd been carrying for far too long.
"Why doesn't Mama ever spend time with us?"
A pause.
"Other kids have both parents. Why don't I?"
Exceed And Excel had gone still. Just for a moment. Then she turned and smiled.
It had been the fakest smile Oscietra had ever seen.
"She's just busy," her mother had said softly. "That's all."
Oscietra had nodded, because that was easier than arguing. Because she didn't yet know how to call something absence when it was wrapped so neatly in excuses.
Now, standing in the quiet living room years later, Oscietra curled her fingers slightly, jaw set so tight it ached. The past didn't feel distant here. It pressed in from the walls, from the furniture, from the air itself.
She rose from the sofa in one smooth, decisive motion. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Reaching for her coat, she shrugged it on with practiced efficiency, movements suggesting she'd already overstayed her limit.
Black Caviar noticed immediately. Her head lifted.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Home," Oscietra replied, not turning around. She adjusted the coat at her shoulders. "I've done what I came to do."
A brief silence followed.
"It's late," Black Caviar said, measured but sincere. "You can stay the night."
Oscietra paused, one hand still gripping the edge of her sleeve. For a second, it almost looked like she was considering it. Then she let out a short, hollow breath—more exhale than laugh.
"Rather not." She turned just enough for her voice to carry clearly across the room. "I don't have any good memories of this place. If I stayed, I'd be guaranteed nightmares." Her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway. "That's assuming I could even sleep at all."
The words were calm. Controlled. And utterly final. Black Caviar had no reply.
She remained where she was as Oscietra gathered her things, the soft rustle of fabric and the muted sound of footsteps filling the space between them. Every movement felt deliberate, like a door closing one inch at a time. When Oscietra reached the entrance, hand settling on the handle, Black Caviar spoke again—hesitant, quiet.
"…Give my regards to Exceed."
The reaction was immediate.
Oscietra turned sharply, composure cracking at last. Fake violet eyes burned, all the restraint of earlier stripped away in an instant.
"Do NOT say my mother's name again," she said, voice cutting and precise. "You don't deserve her."
There was no room for argument. No space for regret.
She turned and left, the door closing hard behind her, the sound echoing through the house long after her footsteps were gone.
Silence rushed in to take her place.
Black Caviar remained where she was for a long moment, staring at the door, expression empty. Then she exhaled slowly and turned toward the kitchen. She reached up, took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, and drank straight from it—once, then again. The burn spread through her chest, sharp and bitter.
It did nothing.
"…I wish I could get drunk," she murmured.
The bottle lowered in her hand as the night closed in around her.