It was after the Bletchingly Stakes.
A simple local race. A modest crowd. unfamiliar faces in the stands. The kind of race no one expected history from. It was Guair's eleventh race.
From the moment the gates opened, Black Caviar had watched—Guiar's stride was effortless, her breathing controlled, her rhythm flawless. She could have broken away at any point. Could have turned it into a rout.
But she didn't.
Instead, she eased back. Just enough. From start to finish, Guiar ran contained, deliberately keeping the others close, letting them cling to her shadow. Letting hope survive. And at the wire, she won by a neck.
A gentle victory.
The crowd erupted. Those who came close laughed breathlessly, smiling as they congratulated one another, hearts still racing as they told themselves—
I almost had her.
Black Caviar felt something ugly twist deep in her chest—pride, anger, a sharp and righteous heat with nowhere to go.
The locker room was still damp with steam and sweat when she shoved the door open. Guiar had barely turned when Black Caviar closed the distance and pressed her back against the lockers. It was sudden—but not brutal. Her grip on Guair's arms was controlled. Careful, despite everything. The metal rattled softly, echoing through the narrow space.
"What was that?" Black Caviar snapped.
Guiar didn't flinch—not at the closeness, not at the tension vibrating through the air. She only looked at her, calm and steady, eyes still warm from the race.
"Nel… let go," Guiar said, voice gentle, confused rather than defensive. There was no anger in it—only concern. "What's wrong?"
Black Caviar didn't release her. "You could've won by lengths," she hissed. "You should have. Do you have any idea how that looked? Slowing down like that—like you were playing with them?"
Guiar's brows drew together slightly. Not in anger, but in disappointment. "I ran how I chose to run, you know that best, Nel."
"That's exactly the problem," Black Caviar shot back. "It's disrespectful. To the other racers. To the sport. To the audience. To yourself." Her grip tightened. "It's something I have known but have never understood. You're just throwing away what you're capable of."
Guiar exhaled slowly, as if steadying herself. "I'm not," she said. "I know exactly what I'm capable of."
"Then why hold back?" Guiar met her glare without wavering.
"Because I've seen what happens when I don't."
Black Caviar scoffed, the sound sharp. "So you pity them? Is that it?"
"No." Guiar's voice firmed, just a fraction—still gentle, but no longer yielding. "I respect them."
She raised a hand—not to push Black Caviar away, but to rest it gently on her wrist. "You've seen it yourself," Guiar continued softly. "My debut race—no—up until my seventh. I won by margins so wide they stopped dreaming afterward." Her gaze dipped for a moment. "I found out some of them quit racing entirely. Not because they were weak—"
Her eyes rose again, steady and clear. "—but because I took something from them."
Black Caviar shook her head sharply. "That's not your burden to carry."
"It is," Guiar replied. "Because I was the one who broke them."
Silence fell between them, thick and electric.
Black Caviar's heart pounded. Every line she'd ever read, every cheer she'd ever heard, every lesson drilled into her bones screamed the same truth.
The strong should shine. The strongest should stand alone.
"You're wrong," Black Caviar said, voice trembling with conviction."The strong should show their strength. That's how you honor those you defeat. That's how you inspire others—to reach higher, even if it hurts."
Her breath came fast now, words spilling before she could stop them.
"If what you're saying is true… then what have I been running for all this time?" she demanded. "What were all those sacrifices for? All those nights, all that pain—" Her jaw tightened. "All the dreams I crushed along the way?"
For a moment, Guiar said nothing.
Then her gaze softened—not yielding, not apologetic, but unbearably sad. "I only run for myself. For my enjoyment. And I do not enjoy trampling on others."
She paused, letting the words breathe.
"So, as the selfish person I am," Guiar continued gently, "I run as myself—even if that self is considered wrong in your eyes."
The words landed heavier than any shout.
Black Caviar's grip loosened. Guiar smoothed the front of her dress, before she stepped past her best friend without another glance and left the locker room, the door closing softly behind her.
Black Caviar remained where she was, fists clenched at her sides, heart blazing with certainty—
—and completely blind to the cost.
The memory loosened its hold.
Moonlight, cool and pale, slipped back into place. The quiet room returned—the soft rush of air through the open window, the gentle rise and fall of two breaths. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Lunar was the first to move.
She shifted on her pillow, turning fully toward Black Caviar. Her voice was small, careful, but steady. "…Auntie," she asked, "why did you act like that?"
Black Caviar didn't answer right away.
She stared up at the ceiling, jaw tight, as if weighing words that had taken years to form. When she finally spoke, her voice was low—stripped of bravado.
"I was blinded," she said. "By pride. By recognition."
She let out a quiet, humorless breath. "The world kept telling me I was the greatest. Australia, And even beyond. Every victory, every headline—it all felt… intoxicating. And I wanted that for your mother, too."
She paused, then corrected herself, voice gentler.
"No— not just wanted it. I expected it."
Moonlight traced the lines of sorrow in her expression as she turned her head.
"In my eyes—no," she corrected herself softly, "not just mine. In the eyes of countless others, Guiar was one of a kind. An Uma Musume meant to lead an era. The kind who should've flown higher than the rest, shattered limits, redefined what was possible." A bitter smile touched her lips. "I couldn't stand the thought of her being seen as ordinary."
Her gaze drifted, unfocused now, lost in memory.
"What I didn't understand back then," Black Caviar continued, "was that everything Guiar stood for—the beauty of her running, the resolve that shaped her perfect [Zone]—none of it came from chasing glory."
Her voice softened.
"It came from herself. From running only for herself."
She swallowed.
"That selfishness—true selfishness—was what made her kind. It was where her selflessness came from."
A long pause.
"That was her fate," Black Caviar said quietly. "The one the Three Goddesses blessed upon her, the one she accepted it with grace."
Her brows drew together, regret tightening her features.
"And I…" Her voice faltered for just a moment. "I lashed out at it. At the very core of who she was. At what her running was meant to be." A slow exhale followed. "In the end, our clash was my undoing. My own selfishness."
The silence that followed was heavy, but not empty.
Lunar watched her—really watched her. Not the undefeated Uma Musume Black Caviar. Not the Wonder from Down Under hailed by crowds and headlines.
Just someone who was hurting.
The same figure who had broken down beside her mother's cold, unmoving body. The same one who had stayed, offering warmth when both of them had been at their coldest.
Slowly, carefully, Lunar reached out. Her smaller hand rested over Black Caviar's, warm and tentative.
Black Caviar stiffened for a moment—then relaxed, allowing it.
Lunar's voice came soft, almost afraid of the answer.
"…So is that why… Mom cut you off?" She looked up, golden eyes searching. "…Was that the last time you both ever talked to each other?"
Black Caviar closed her eyes.
"…Yes," she said.
Then, after a slow, uneven breath—
"…But also no."
Lunar's fingers tightened slightly around hers.
"We didn't speak after that," Black Caviar continued. "Not properly. We were still in the same academy. Still sharing the same dorm room, there will always be a couple of interactions here and there." A faint, bitter curve touched her mouth. "Yet it felt like we were worlds apart."
"For days, it was nothing but silence, just a cold war." Her voice dropped. "We passed each other in the mornings without a word. Changed clothes without looking. Slept facing opposite walls."
Her hand shifted under Lunar's.
"Even the room felt different," she murmured. "Hollow. Like something essential had been taken out of it… even though we were both still there."
A pause followed.
"Two weeks like that," Black Caviar said softly, "two weeks of that emptiness—then I got the news."
"Guiar was going to run her first graded race," Black Caviar went on. "The Epona Stakes. A G3, at Rosehill Gardens, right in central Sydney."
For just a moment, something fragile flickered across her face. "I remember feeling… overjoyed," she admitted. "I thought—maybe she'd changed her mind. Maybe she'd finally decided to race seriously. Maybe…" Her voice faltered. "Maybe I could have my dearest person back."
"But then my trainer added one more thing." Her tone flattened completely. "It was announced as Guiar Light's retirement race."
The room turned colder instantly. "My heart dropped," Black Caviar said. "I lost my mind."
Her hand trembled faintly beneath Lunar's. "I couldn't breathe. My [Zone] leaked out before I even realized it—panic, pressure, fear spilling everywhere, akin to yours."
"The Uma Musumes around me froze. Some ran. Others couldn't even move." A quiet, self-bitter breath. "It was an embarrassing sight."
She shook her head.
"But I didn't care."
Black Caviar opened her eyes, gaze distant now, locked on a memory that still cut too deeply.
"I stormed back to the dorm," she said. "I didn't knock. I didn't slow down. I just—bashed the door open and called her name."
Her voice softened, reverent despite the pain.
"But she was gone."
Lunar held her breath.
"Her beloved posters were gone, posters of Uma Musumes she idolizes and would endlessly gush to me about everyday." Black Caviar continued. "Every single one of it—taken down. The countless plushies I'd won for her at the arcade, one by one—gone. Her clothes. Her shoes."
She swallowed hard.
"Even her scent." A quiet ache slipped into her words. "It was like she'd never lived there at all."
The only sound was the wind brushing the curtains.
"There was just one thing left," Black Caviar said. "An envelope. On her bed."
"…What was in it?"
Black Caviar finally looked at her—really looked at her—eyes heavy with memory and regret.
She gave a small, sad smile.
"…Watch me."
Lunar swallowed. After a moment, she asked softly, "…Did you go?"
Black Caviar nodded once.
—
Black Caviar stood rigid in the spectator section, flanked by her trainer on one side, Autumn Sun and I Am Invincible on the other. Her aura was pulled tight, compressed down to something barely contained, but her focus was razor-sharp.
She searched the track.
The tunnel.
The paddock.
Nothing.
Her gaze swept again. And again.
At one point, she'd tried to force her way into the participants' waiting area—only to be hauled back bodily by Autumn Sun, with I Am Invincible clinging to her arm in alarm.
At one point, she moved without thinking—shoulders turning, feet already carrying her toward the restricted corridor leading to the participants' waiting area.
"Senior Black Caviar—stop!" I Am Invincible cried, grabbing her arm.
Too late.
Autumn Sun hooked an arm around her waist and hauled her back with a sharp grunt. "That's enough you fuckwit!" she snapped. "You'll get kicked out of the stands at this rate."
"I need to see her," Black Caviar growled, struggling. "Just once—"
"Do you really want her final race," Autumn cut in, voice low and cutting, "to be tainted with the memory of you being dragged out by security? Put some sense into your dumb head!"
That stopped her.
Barely.
Black Caviar went still, breath coming hard, fists clenched at her sides as Autumn released her. I Am Invincible stayed close, hands still hovering, worried she might bolt again.
As they made their way back to their original spot, the announcer's voice thundered through the stadium.
"Ladies and gentlemen, introducing today's runners for the Epona Stakes—!"
The crowd roared.
One by one, the gates were announced. Names echoed across the track, cheers rising and falling in waves.
Black Caviar barely heard a single one of them.
Her eyes were locked onto the stalls.
"…And finally," the announcer said, voice lifting with practiced drama, "Gate fourteen—today's favorite. The retiring veteran who remains undefeated, running her first ever graded race! Give your final cheers for—Guiar Light!"
The stadium erupted.
Black Caviar leaned forward—
And froze.
Gate fourteen stood open.
Empty.
The cheers faltered, confusion rippling through the stands as murmurs spread. Even the announcer hesitated, words trailing off as officials began speaking hurriedly into headsets.
Black Caviar's breath caught in her throat.
"No…" she whispered.
Her eyes never left the vacant gate, dread coiling tight around her heart.
A stir ran through the stadium.
Then—movement.
From the tunnel, a single figure jogged into view.
For half a second, the crowd simply stared.
And then the cheers erupted.
"GUIAR LIGHT—!!"
The sound crashed over the stands like a wave.
Black Caviar's breath left her all at once.
There she was.
Silver hair caught the sunlight like polished steel, each stride smooth, measured, unhurried. Guiar Light lifted one hand in brief acknowledgment as she stepped onto the track, her posture composed, her presence unmistakable.
She looked the same.
…And yet, not.
Black Caviar's eyes narrowed.
She's pale.
Not sickly. Not weak. But presence thinner somehow, her color muted, like a candle burning lower than it should. It sent a quiet spike of unease through Black Caviar's chest.
Guiar reached Gate Fourteen.
As she stepped in, she paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
Her gaze lifted—and found Black Caviar's across the sea of spectators.
The roar of the crowd fell away.
There was no ice in her eyes. No fire.
Only recognition.
A simple, wordless acknowledgment—I see you.
Then Guiar's gaze shifted—past her, higher into the stands, toward somewhere Black Caviar couldn't see.
Black Caviar followed the line of sight instinctively—
But before she could make sense of it, the gates began to settle. Officials moved. The tension snapped back into place.
"…They're starting," I Am Invincible murmured beside her.
Black Caviar tore her attention back to the track.
The bell rang.
The gates burst open.
And the moment Guiar's hooves struck the ground—
The world changed.
"She—?!" Anonym gasped.
Guiar Light exploded forward, silver aura flaring violently bright.
[Zone].
At the start.
Light wrapped around her like something alive, shimmering and fierce as she seized the lead in an instant—acceleration clean, decisive, absolute. There was no easing into it. No measuring the field.
She was running.
Truly running.
Black Caviar's heart slammed against her ribs.
That speed—
That presence—
It was overwhelming.
And she loved it.
Loved her.
She leaned forward without realizing it, fingers digging into the rail as Guiar widened the gap, her stride devouring the track with ruthless efficiency. The rest of the field scrambled behind her, startled, unprepared, reduced to silhouettes chasing silver light.
"She's going for a great escape—b-but I've never seen Senior Guiar use that strategy before…" I Am Invincible whispered, disbelief threading her voice.
Black Caviar barely heard her.
Her eyes burned, vision locked onto the figure ahead.
That [Zone]—unrestrained, radiant, terrifyingly beautiful—
I haven't seen this since—
Her thoughts stumbled.
…Since when?
The answer surfaced unbidden, sharp enough to steal her breath.
It reminded her of their first race together.
The one where she had utterly, completely dominated Black Caviar—and the last time she ever had.
Her chest tightened, something fragile twisting painfully beneath the awe. She stared at the silver figure blazing ahead, heart aching as admiration and regret tangled so tightly she couldn't separate them.
Have we always been running together…
…or have you been holding back with me all along?
The answer didn't come.
The track roared instead.
"—AND GUIAR LIGHT BLASTS OUT OF THE GATES!" the announcer shouted, voice already climbing toward hysteria. "An INCREDIBLE start from the favorite—she's taken the lead immediately!"
Silver tore across the turf.
Guiar's stride was long and fearless, feet striking in perfect cadence as she cleared the first stretch with brutal efficiency. The pack scrambled behind her, formation breaking as they tried to respond, but the gap was already opening—clean, decisive.
"A GREAT ESCAPE!" the co–commentator cried. "She's not waiting—Guiar Light is SIMPLY RUNNING!"
Black Caviar leaned forward so hard her knuckles whitened against the rail.
She's serious.
This wasn't the Guiar who let others breathe down her neck. This was her speed unchained—her Zone blazing silver, wrapped tightly around her like a second skin, beautiful and radiant as ever.
"She's already at ten lengths," Autumn Sun muttered, brows knitting. "No—eleven."
I Am Invincible shook her head slowly. "That pace… she's not planning to keep that up until the end, is she?"
Black Caviar didn't answer.
Her eyes were locked on Guiar's back, heart hammering with something dangerously close to hope.
Then they reached the second corner.
Guiar's [Zone] flared.
Not outward in its usual quiet halo—but violently, like a star tearing itself apart. Silver light surged past her shoulders, her legs, spilling into the air itself.
"What—?!" Autumn Sun sucked in a sharp breath.
The aura kept expanding—too wide, too fast—rippling across the track like a tidal wave. The air seemed to tighten. The wind screamed louder, sharper, as if forced through a narrowing space.
Black Caviar's eyes widened.
That's not right—
Guiar's Zone had always been contained. Intimate. Hers alone.
This wasn't.
The silver light swelled once more—
And then it shattered.
It didn't fade.
It broke.
Like glass struck by a hammer, the Zone fractured into countless shimmering shards that vanished in an instant.
Guiar staggered.
Just a fraction—but Black Caviar saw it.
"Guiar Light is—SLOWING??" the announcer said, confusion cutting into his excitement. "Wait—something's happening here!"
Her silver was gone.
Completely.
Guiar's stride lost its perfect rhythm, shoulders tightening as her breathing grew visibly heavier. She fought to maintain speed, jaw clenched, form straining.
This wasn't restraint.
This was struggle.
And behind her—
The field surged.
One by one, then all at once, the thirteen Uma Musume found something they hadn't possessed before.
Speed.
"THE PACK IS CLOSING IN!" the announcer roared.
"They're accelerating—no, all of them are accelerating!"
A runner on the inside blinked in shock as her legs moved faster than her thoughts could follow.
Another laughed breathlessly, exhilaration tearing loose from her chest as tears stung her eyes and the wind sang in her ears.
They couldn't see it.
But they felt it.
The rhythm—clean and steady.
The ground responding beneath their feet.
The wind parting, just enough.
As if the track itself had opened its arms and urged them forward.
"What the hell—?" I Am Invincible whispered. "They're all—"
Autumn Sun's jaw tightened, unease flashing across her face. "This isn't normal."
Through the third corner, the gap shrank.
Six lengths.
Three.
One.
Guiar was slowing—shoulders tight, silver hair plastered to her face with sweat. Her steps were still precise, but the effortless grace that once defined them was gone.
Black Caviar's chest seized.
"Guiar…" she breathed, the name tearing out of her.
Her gaze snapped back to where the [Zone] had exploded—then to the runners now flying, eyes wide with disbelief, bodies moving in harmony they didn't understand.
And then she saw it.
Not clearly. Not fully. But faintly—like afterimages burned into the air.
Threads of silver clung to them.
Around their legs. Their shoulders. Flickering at their heels with every stride.
Guiar's silver.
The realization struck Black Caviar like a physical blow.
"…She gave it to them," she whispered.
Autumn Sun turned sharply. "What?"
Black Caviar swallowed, voice trembling. "Her Zone. She didn't lose it—she shared it."
Understanding dawned, horrifying and beautiful all at once.
Guiar Light had taken the very thing that defined her—the resolve that carried her beyond limits—and shattered it across the field.
So they could run.
So they could feel what she felt.
So none of them would ever forget this race.
They burst out of the third corner as the final straight opened before them.
And for the first time in the race—
Guiar Light was no longer alone at the front.
The final straight exploded into chaos. "THREE HUNDRED METERS TO GO!" the announcer screamed, voice cracking with disbelief. "THIS IS ANYONE'S RACE—ANYONE CAN TAKE IT!"
The field fanned out across the turf, thirteen figures charging forward with ferocious, impossible speed. Steps thundered in overlapping rhythm, the ground shaking beneath them as disbelief turned into raw pursuit.
"ON THE OUTSIDE—JENZANO IS MOVING!"
"SOUNDS OF HEAVEN IS FINDING DAYLIGHT THROUGH THE MIDDLE!"
"DOWN THE RAIL—SAFWA IS CLOSING FAST!"
The commentary barely kept pace.
Black Caviar heard none of it.
Her eyes were locked on silver.
Guiar Light was still running.
But only just.
Her shoulders shook with every breath. Her stride—once smooth as flowing water—had frayed into something jagged and uneven. Pain was written plainly across her face now, no longer hidden behind composure or restraint.
She's exhausted.
The thought cut deep, sharp as a blade.
"GUIAR LIGHT IS IN TROUBLE!" the announcer shouted. "SHE'S SLOWING DRAMATICALLY!"
The first runner passed her on the outside—a blur of color and disbelief, the girl's breath breaking into a sob as she surged ahead, shocked by her own speed.
Then another.
And another.
Each overtake felt like something tearing loose inside Black Caviar's chest.
No—stop—this isn't what you meant—
At two hundred meters to go, Guiar stumbled.
Not a fall.
Just a fraction of a misstep—
But enough.
The pack streamed past her now, all momentum and fire, chasing a finish line she could no longer reach.
"GUIAR LIGHT HAS FALLEN BACK!"
"SHE'S DROPPING THROUGH THE FIELD!"
"UNBELIEVABLE—THE FAVORITE IS BEING SWALLOWED WHOLE!"
Black Caviar couldn't breathe.
The silver figure remained on the track—still moving, still forcing her legs forward—
Slowly.
Painfully.
Guiar's silver hair clung to her face, soaked through with sweat, her jaw clenched so tightly it trembled with the effort to stay upright. Each stride was a negotiation with pain. Each breath a battle already being lost.
She crossed the finish line last.
Two lengths behind the second-to-last runner.
There was no cheer.
Only a stunned, fractured murmur rippling through the stands, disbelief spreading faster than sound. Somewhere, far away, the winner's name was announced—but it drowned beneath the sight unfolding at the far end of the track.
Guiar's legs buckled.
She staggered forward two steps—then collapsed to one knee, a broken cry tearing from her chest as she bowed forward, one hand slamming into the turf to keep herself from falling flat. Pain twisted her features, raw and unmistakable.
"Senior Guiar!" someone shouted.
Uma musumes who had just finished—still panting, still shaking with adrenaline—turned back instantly. One skidded to a stop, cleats tearing at the grass. Another dropped beside her, panic etched across her face.
"Hey—don't move—!"
"Can you hear me?!"
"What happened back there—?!"
Guiar tried to answer.
Her lips moved.
No sound came out.
The energy of the stadium warped. Cheers dissolved into fear, applause dying mid-clap as realization spread through the crowd.
Medical staff flooded the track.
Black Caviar was already moving.
She didn't remember vaulting the barrier.
She shoved past spectators, through frozen staff, past security shouting after her—none of it reached her. The world narrowed to one name, repeating in her skull like a curse.
Guiar. Guiar. Guiar.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
The words fractured and reformed endlessly, clawing at her chest until it burned.
Please be okay.
Please—please don't let this be—
Her vision tunneled as she broke onto the track, aura flaring violently now, pressure leaking unchecked. Her breath scorched her lungs with every step.
She saw the med team kneeling.
Saw the stretcher being unfolded.
Saw silver hair spilled against the green turf like something precious broken.
"Move," she snarled, voice shredded raw as she shoved past the last line of personnel. "That's—she's—move!"
A hand grabbed her arm.
She ripped free.
"GUIAR!"
She hit the ground on her knees beside her just as the medics reached to lift her, hands shaking so badly she could barely control them, heart hammering as if it might tear itself apart.
Guiar Light lay there, eyes half-lidded, breath shallow and uneven, pain carved into every line of her body.
Black Caviar reached for her—
Her fingers brushed Guiar's cheek, damp and burning hot, thumb trembling as she stroked away strands of silver stuck to her face. The contact shattered something in her chest.
"I'm here," she whispered desperately. "I'm here—don't you dare—"
The medics moved quickly, lifting Guiar onto the stretcher. Autumn Sun arrived breathless at Black Caviar's side, eyes wide as she took in Guiar's condition.
"…This is bad," she said under her breath, jaw tight.
I Am Invincible followed moments later, hands pressed to her mouth, ears flattened in horror. "She can barely breathe…"
They moved fast—through the tunnel, lights flashing harsh against concrete, Guiar barely conscious as the stretcher rolled toward the waiting ambulance. Black Caviar walked beside it, one hand never leaving Guiar's, whispering apologies she didn't even realize were leaving her mouth.
The ambulance doors opened.
Autumn Sun climbed in immediately, turning back once. "I'm going with her."
Black Caviar didn't hesitate. She stepped forward—
And felt her arms seized from behind.
She jerked violently, fury flashing white-hot as she twisted around.
"What the hell—?!"
She froze.
A pair of pure golden eyes stared straight into her deep blue ones.