Lunar sat properly on the cushion at first, her back straight and her hands folded neatly atop her knees, though that grace had gradually melted away the moment Anonym wandered over and lowered her head onto Lunar's lap as if it were the most natural and comfortable pillow in existence.
Anonym had never been one to ask for permission. She simply tried things once, decided whether she liked them, and if she did, that was the end of the discussion. The first time she had rested her head there, she had declared it comfortable and never looked back, and now she claimed Lunar's lap whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was something Lunar had grown so used to that she barely questioned it anymore.
She blinked at the sudden, familiar weight before relaxing, one hand hovering uncertainly for a second as if debating what to do, and then gently settling into Anonym's soft black hair. Her fingers moved almost absentmindedly, stroking slow and light in a rhythm that made Anonym's breathing even out within moments.
On her other side, Saiya sat far closer than necessary.
There was an absurd amount of empty space along the rest of the couch, yet Saiya had chosen the exact distance where their shoulders were practically fused together, her sleeve brushing Lunar's arm every time she shifted even slightly. Whether it was intentional or not, she showed no sign of correcting it. Instead, her body leaned forward just a touch, her entire focus locked onto the television screen with laser intensity.
On-screen, the race thundered toward its climax, the camera sweeping low across the turf as the pack roared down the homestretch and the announcer's voice rose above the pounding rhythm of foot.
"Entering the four-hundred meter mark!" he called, excitement sharpening every syllable. "It's Deep Bond joined by My Rhapsody—and Salios starts to chime in out wide!"
The lens tightened on the leaders as they barreled forward. A tall bay-haired Uma Musume in a striking orange dressuit surged from the outside, her stride long and commanding as she attempted to wrest control from the green-haired frontrunner hugging the rail. The orange fabric of her suit snapped violently in the wind, her momentum fierce and uncompromising as she drew closer with every powerful extension of her legs.
"She's challenging hard! Salios is surging!"
The crowd's roar swelled, the sound almost distorting through the speakers as the duel began to take shape, but before Salios' move could fully crystallize, another presence entered the frame from even farther out.
A flash of black.
A streak of red.
From the outside lane,a black-haired Uma Musume with a crimson-lined cape advanced with startling speed, slipping through the outermost space like a shadow cutting across sunlight, her acceleration instant and overwhelming.
"ITS CONTRAIL—SALIOS—CONTRAIL!" the announcer shouted as the two drew level, shoulder to shoulder, neither yielding an inch.
For several breathtaking strides they ran head to head, the tension between them palpable even through a screen. Salios' powerful, driving form pushed relentlessly, but Contrail's expression remained composed, her movement impossibly smooth as if she were conserving something still unseen.
Then they reached the two-hundred meter mark, and something changed.
Her stride lengthened all of a sudden, each step covering more ground than seemed physically reasonable, and her body rose into a motion so fluid it resembled flying rather than running. The crimson cape behind her streamed outward in a vivid arc, resembling an actual contrail as she began to pull away.
"One hundred and fifty to go—CONTRAIL TAKES FLIGHT!"
Salios' challenge, so threatening moments before, began to falter as the gap widened almost instantly.
One.
Two.
Three.
Three lengths separated her from Contrail.
"And CONTRAIL, THE FAVOURITE, RACES AWAY!" the announcer roared, voice cracking with exhilaration. "CONTRAIL WILL TAKE DOWN THE DERBY! SHE IS FIVE FOR FIVE—ON HER ROAD TO AN UNDEFEATED TRIPLE CROWN!"
Contrail crossed the finish line first, dominant and untouchable, her momentum carrying her several strides beyond the post before she gradually eased down, victory secured with an authority that left no room for doubt.
The camera shifted back to her, isolating her from the roaring stadium as if the world had momentarily narrowed to a single figure.
Up close, she looked almost androgynous. Her black hair fell to her chin in a slightly messy cut, and a single white streak curved forward at the front like a crescent moon breaking through the night. Her eyes were a striking, crystalline blue—clear as an open sky—with pupils shaped like tiny suns, bright and focused in a way that made it feel as though they could illuminate whatever they fixed upon. The dark blue pilot-like attire she wore clung crisply to her slender frame, tailored and immaculate.
She slowed to a stop.
Then tilted her head slightly and looked up toward the open sky above the stadium, her expression unreadable yet somehow resolute, as though she were measuring herself not against the field she had just defeated but against something far higher.
The screen faded.
Saiya blinked at last, though her gaze lingered on the darkened television as if replaying that final surge frame by frame in her mind.
Lunar stared at it for another second before a soft breath slipped past her lips."So cool…"
Saiya was the first to break the silence after the screen faded to black, her eyes still shining as if the afterimage of that final stretch were burned into them.
Saiya was the first to break the silence, her eyes still bright with lingering excitement.
"Did you see that last kick?" she said, leaning forward again even though the race was already over. "It didn't even look like she accelerated normally. It literally looked like she flew."
Anonym, still comfortably sprawled across Lunar's lap as if she had no intention of ever moving again, gave a quiet sound of agreement.
"Mhm."
That was all she said, but the faint upward curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed how impressed she was.
Saiya crossed her arms in mock seriousness, though her excitement refused to dim."Aunt Tycoon told me that Japan is stacked with monsters right now. Actual monsters. The competition there is brutal," she continued, shaking her head slightly. "And yet Contrail is still undefeated against all of them. If she becomes one of the three undefeated Triple Crown winners… that would be insane."
Lunar's fingers slowed slightly where they rested against Anonym's hair as the thought settled into her chest.
If I go to Central then…
Her thoughts were cut short by a gentle sensation near her shoulder.
Someone was brushing her hair.
Softly.
Lunar blinked and turned her head, only to immediately brighten. "Heya, Big sis Oscie!"
Oscietra stood behind the couch, one hand idly combing through Lunar's silver strands with a casual familiarity that made it clear this wasn't the first time she'd done it. At the sound of her greeting, she gave Lunar's head a light ruffle and offered a smile so rare it almost felt sacred.
"Hey, Lulu."
The smile Oscietra gave her was soft and rare, the kind that only surfaced for three things in this world—her mother, Lunar, and good food, in that exact order, though she would probably deny the last one if confronted about it.
Saiya immediately puffed up at the nickname exchange, her cheeks tinting slightly as she shot Oscietra an accusatory look. "Hey! Nicknames are our thing," she complained, her tone far more pouty than genuinely upset.
Lunar could only offer a sheepish smile in response before giving Saiya a small, reassuring pat on the arm.
It couldn't be helped.
Over the one year she had lived here, she had grown especially close to Oscietra in a way that felt different from the others, not louder or more intense, but steadier, like something built brick by brick without either of them noticing when it had become important.
The other adults were constantly entangled in responsibilities that never seemed to thin out—meetings, management matters, sponsorship negotiations, obligations tied to reputations that stretched far beyond this house. She hadn't even seen Aunt Tycoon or Aunt More in close to a month now, their schedules pulling them overseas and back again like tides she couldn't follow.
Aunt Nel in particular had practically drowned in work recently, and every time Lunar caught sight of her, there were faint shadows beneath her eyes and a subtle weariness softening her usually calm expression. It tugged at Lunar's chest in a way she didn't quite know how to fix, which was why she made it a point to hug her whenever she could, even if it was only for a fleeting few seconds in a hallway, hoping that maybe some small portion of that invisible weight could be lifted, if only briefly.
In that quiet gap left by everyone else's absence, Oscietra had stepped up.
They spent hours together, both on and off the track, and while most of the theoretical knowledge Lunar absorbed came from the recorded classes Aunt Tycoon had left behind for her and Saiya to study—meticulous breakdowns of race strategy, biomechanics, and pacing models that dissected elite performances down to the smallest inefficiencies—the practical application of all that information belonged almost entirely to Oscietra.
They spent hours together, both on and off the track. If most of the theoretical knowledge Lunar absorbed came from the recorded classes Aunt Tycoon had left behind for her and Saiya to study—meticulous breakdowns of race strategy, biomechanics, pacing models—then the practical application of all that knowledge belonged almost entirely to Oscietra.
Oscietra never explained things in vague generalities, she was precise to the point of obsession.
Hill sprints were assigned specifically to strengthen the posterior chain, targeting the glutes and hamstrings so Lunar could generate real power in the final two hundred meters rather than relying on momentum alone. Short-burst resistance runs were used to sharpen explosive hip drive, teaching her body to produce force instantly rather than gradually. Long tempo sessions conditioned her calves and reinforced ankle stability so her stride wouldn't wobble under fatigue when the lactic acid began to bite. Core rotations and balance drills kept her upper body disciplined and quiet, ensuring that her legs could do their violent, relentless work beneath without energy leaking upward in unnecessary motion. Even arm swing mechanics were broken down and rebuilt; a relaxed shoulder conserved oxygen and maintained rhythm, while tension crept into the neck and stole breath without her even realizing it.
"When I watch you run, I can see it," Oscietra had told her once during a slow cooldown jog, her tone calm but precise as always. "Your body leaks energy in small places. Seal the leaks, and you will become even more terrifying."
Beyond physical conditioning, she taught Lunar the subtler, race-focused nuances that separated strong runners from dominant ones. She showed her how to sit just off a frontrunner's shoulder, close enough that her presence pressed against their awareness like a shadow, but not so aggressive that it forced an early move. She explained how drifting half a lane wider before a bend could sell the illusion of uncertainty, baiting a rival into relaxing their guard for a split second before slicing back in at the precise moment hesitation surfaced. She broke down breathing patterns with the same seriousness she gave to sprint drills, teaching Lunar how short, sharp exhales sharpened acceleration phases while deeper, controlled rhythms stabilized stamina during extended drives, and how mismatched breathing could quietly sabotage even the strongest legs.
Oscietra spoon-fed her everything she knew without ever making it feel condescending. Corrections came in the form of gentle nudges to the hip, steady hands at the waist adjusting alignment, or silent rewinds of race footage played frame by frame until Lunar could see what Oscietra saw, not just the obvious mistakes but the invisible inefficiencies hidden between strides. For all of that, Lunar knew she would always have a soft spot for her, one built not on loud affection or dramatic praise, but on patient guidance and an unwavering belief that she could grow further.
And yet, no matter how exceptional a teacher Oscietra was, and no matter how detailed Aunt Tycoon's recorded lessons had been, there remained one thing neither of them could truly teach her.
Her [Zone].
It wasn't something either of them possessed. Their brilliance had been forged through discipline, intellect, and relentless refinement. Zones were rare, unpredictable, and deeply personal, a manifestation of potential that transcended ordinary conditioning, and because of that it could not be diagrammed on a whiteboard or broken down into clean mechanical steps.
In that regard, Lunar's only real companions were the two girls sitting beside her—Anonym, who carried a [Zone] of her own, and Saiya, who could see them clearly even if she did not possess one.
Only Aunt Autumn and Aunt Nel were capable of teaching them about it, and both of them were constantly busy, their schedules packed with responsibilities far beyond just mentoring the three of them. The lessons came rarely, squeezed into narrow windows on the weekends when time could finally be carved out.
Those "classes" were nothing like normal training sessions. They would gather in the track while Aunt Autumn or Aunt Nel stood before them, and then, without theatrics, they would simply let it bloom.
A shimmer moved through the air, followed by a faint shift in pressure that made the atmosphere feel denser, changing the way the area felt.
Aunt Autumn's [Zone] was never overwhelming. It did not roar or crackle or distort the air violently, instead, it unfurled like a gentle autumn wind, soft and steady, forming a small, contained space around her that felt warm and balanced. Within that space, her condition seemed preserved, her stamina regulated with unnatural precision, as though fatigue simply could not latch onto her properly. Exhaustion tried to creep in, but it never quite reached her in full, always slowed, always softened, as if the season itself had decided to cradle her gently rather than let her wither.
When she explained it, her voice had been just as calm as her aura. Zones, she said, responded to emotion more than simply desperation. They could be shaped with intent, refined with clarity, and nurtured rather than forced into existence through sheer will. For her own [Zone], she would focus on something she held dear with intense sincerity, allowing that feeling to bloom naturally in her chest, and the manifestation would follow without resistance, as though the wind simply answered her call.
Aunt Nel approached it from an entirely different angle.
Where Aunt Autumn spoke of feelings and imagery, Aunt Nel spoke of thresholds, stamina consumption rates, neurological strain, and refinement stages. She described control as something measurable, something that required structure and discipline, and she emphasized repeatedly the dangers of premature activation before one's physical and mental foundation was strong enough to sustain it. Her own [Zone] was nothing like Autumn's gentle wind; it resembled a lightning storm contained within a defined radius, brilliant and overwhelming, the air around her vibrating with sharp intensity. It was powerful enough to disrupt not only opponents but herself if mishandled, which was why her control had to be absolute. She did not simply unleash it; she regulated it, channeling it with deliberate restraint so that its destructive potential remained a weapon rather than a liability.
Throughout these lessons, Anonym had managed to draw hers out a handful of times.
When it appeared, it did so without warning, the atmosphere darkening as storm clouds had rolled in from nowhere, but it never lasted long. It flickered violently, unstable, before collapsing in on itself, and every time it did, she would end up completely drained, shoulders trembling, breath shallow as though she had just run an entire 2400 meter race alone. Her progress was there, but it was slow and unstable.
Lunar's progress, in contrast, had been deliberately restrained, because Aunt Nel had given her a specific instruction.
"Do not rely on it," she had told Lunar clearly. "Not yet. Build your physical and mental foundation first. If your base is weak, your Zone will only magnify the cracks, and the consequences will be dire...."
Lunar did not fully understand why she, in particular, had been given that instruction when Anonym was allowed to experiment more boldly, pushing against her limits in visible bursts, but she trusted that Aunt Nel saw something she did not.So she followed the instruction without complaint, pouring her focus instead into sharpening her body, refining her race sense, and strengthening the foundation that, one day, would have to support whatever her own [Zone] ultimately became.
Oscietra's hand lingered lightly against Lunar's head, fingers absentmindedly combing through a few silver strands before she finally spoke. "By the way," she said casually, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, "I'm actually here to pick you up."
Lunar blinked up at her. "Pick me up?"
"Yeah." Oscietra slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out her phone, glancing at the screen, seemingly double-checking a message she had already read. "Mom wants to meet you. She asked me to bring you to this café nearby, and from what I heard, she's already there waiting."
Lunar's eyes widened slightly. "Aunt Exceed?"
She had only ever heard about her through Oscietra—bits and pieces about her personal life that she shared sometimes when they had nothing more to talk about after practice.
"Yeah," Oscietra confirmed with a small nod. "She specifically asked for you." There was no pressure in her tone, just a simple offer. "So I wanted to see if you're okay with going."
Intrigue sparked almost immediately in Lunar's chest.
Meeting Oscie's mother… hearing about her was one thing, but seeing her in person felt like stepping into a new chapter entirely.
She nodded without hesitation. "I want to."
Then she glanced down at herself and paused. "…But I probably need to change first."
She pointed at her current outfit—an old pair of Oguri Cap pajamas that had clearly seen better days. The sleeves rode slightly too high on her wrists, the hem sitting just a bit shorter than intended, her matured frame having long since outgrown what had once fit perfectly.
Oscietra followed her gesture and snickered. "Don't you want new pajamas?" she teased. "We can buy some after this."
Lunar shook her head almost instantly, fingers clutching the fabric with quiet protectiveness. "No. This one's too special." Her voice softened, losing its playful edge. "Momma bought it for me."
The teasing expression on Oscietra's face shifted almost instantly into understanding. She gave a small nod. "Okay."
Then she added dryly, "You're definitely not going out in those though."
Lunar laughed, bright and unbothered. "I wasn't planning to."
Beside her, Saiya straightened abruptly. "Wait. You're going out?" she asked, her voice lifting with hopeful urgency. "Can I come too?"
Anonym had already pushed herself upright from Lunar's lap, her dark eyes rising toward Oscietra with quiet expectation that mirrored Saiya's question without needing to voice it.
Oscietra exhaled softly, clearly having anticipated this exact reaction. "Sorry, guys," she said, lifting a hand in mild surrender. "Mom specifically told me to bring Lunar, and only Lunar."
Saiya visibly deflated, shoulders drooping as she let out an exaggerated boo.
Anonym held Oscietra's gaze for another second, as if weighing the possibility of silently insisting, before giving up and flopping back down onto the couch with a soft thud, turning her face toward the backrest in clear, wordless rejection.
Lunar couldn't stop the small snicker that escaped her. "Sorry, guys," she offered apologetically, though the excitement dancing in her eyes betrayed how curious she felt.
With that, she slipped off the couch and hurried toward the stairs, her bare feet pattering lightly against the floor as she ran up to her room to change, her thoughts already racing ahead to the hidden café and the mare who was waiting there.
—--------
The walk didn't take long.
They turned off the main road after only a few minutes, weaving past storefronts and traffic until the city began to thin into quieter side streets, and then even those gave way to a narrow alleyway tucked between two brick buildings that looked older than most of the shops Lunar had seen in this district.
At the very end of it sat the café.
It was small and almost shy in its presentation, its wooden sign slightly weathered and hanging from iron brackets that had probably been there for decades. The windows were framed with dark green paint that had begun to chip at the edges, and potted plants lined the entrance in mismatched ceramic pots that made the place feel more curated than accidental. Warm yellow light spilled softly through the glass despite the afternoon sun still hanging overhead.
Lunar slowed a little.
"…This is it?" she asked carefully, tilting her head as she took in the exterior. "It looks… quite… unique."
Oscietra gave her a small, knowing smile.
"Don't judge a book by its cover," she said, nudging the door open. "It's a hidden gem. Their drinks are the absolute best in Sydney. They just don't advertise much, so not many people know about it."
Lunar hummed thoughtfully. That only made it more interesting.
The bell above the door chimed as they stepped inside.
The interior was smaller than Lunar expected, but that only made it feel more charming. Every inch of space seemed intentionally designed. The walls were lined with old vinyl records and framed black-and-white photographs of city streets from decades past. Shelves held antique coffee grinders and porcelain teacups with intricate gold trim. Soft jazz drifted through the air, blending seamlessly with the low hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter.
There were only a handful of tables scattered throughout the room, most of them empty at this hour, each topped with a small glass vase holding a single fresh flower. The lighting was warm and low, casting everything in a soft amber glow that made the café feel almost insulated from the outside world.
Lunar's eyes drifted across the sea of empty tables—
And then stopped.
Near the back of the café, one table was already occupied, set slightly apart from the others. Two women sat facing each other in quiet conversation.
From this angle, Lunar could only see the back of one of them at first—an older woman with grey hair neatly twisted into a bun, every strand secured with practiced precision. Her attire was smart and tailored, speaking of someone who is very put together. But it wasn't her that captured Lunar's full attention.
It was the woman sitting across from her.
Wavy pale-gold hair fell in a refined bob that framed her face in soft, elegant curves, the color so strikingly similar to Oscietra's, yet the styling was entirely different from the long, loose strands that usually cascaded down Oscie's back. Where Oscietra's hair carried a certain untamed edge, this woman's was shaped and intentional, every wave seeming to settle exactly where it belonged.
And her face—
It was breathtaking. There was no other word for it.
Even among all her aunts, whom Lunar already considered undeniably beautiful in their own distinct ways, this woman stood apart in a manner that was impossible to ignore. Her features were delicate yet striking, balanced in a way that felt almost unfair. Large, doe-like violet eyes rested calmly over the rim of a porcelain cup as she took a quiet sip, their shade slightly deeper than Oscietra's but unmistakably related.
It took only that single glance for Lunar to understand.
This was Aunt Exceed.
As if sensing the weight of her stare, those wide violet eyes lifted and found Lunar instantly. They widened just a fraction in clear, unfiltered surprise, as though she hadn't expected Lunar to look quite the way she did.
Lunar froze for half a heartbeat, caught in that gaze, before Oscietra's voice broke through in a bright, uncharacteristically cheery tone. "Mother!"
The warmth in her voice was rare enough to be startling.
She stepped forward and, in doing so, gently guided Lunar along with her, closing the distance between them and the waiting table with an easy confidence that made retreat impossible.
Oscietra didn't hesitate. The moment she reached her, she leaned down slightly and wrapped her arms around the pale-gold-haired woman in a soft, familiar hug. It wasn't dramatic or overly tight, just a quiet gesture of affection that spoke of something long-standing and secure. The older woman returned it just as naturally, one hand coming up to rest against Oscietra's back, her expression softening in a way that made it clear this particular warmth was reserved.
And that left Lunar standing there.
Awkwardly.
Her hands hovered at her sides, unsure of what to do with themselves, her gaze flicking between mother and daughter as she debated whether to bow, wave, or simply blurt out her name before the silence stretched too long.
Before she could decide, something warm brushed lightly against her fingers.
A hand.
It reached slowly and gently for hers, giving the slightest tug, careful and reassuring rather than insistent.
Lunar turned.
The other lady—the one with grey hair tied neatly into a bun—was looking at her now.
Up close, Lunar could see the years etched clearly across her face, fine lines tracing paths of time and experience, yet her eyes were what stole her breath. They were a vivid, striking hazel, sharp and lively, carrying a youthfulness that felt almost mismatched against the silver in her hair. There was a steady fire in them, bright and alert, the kind that did not dim with age but simply grew more controlled.
"Come, dear," the woman said warmly, her voice smooth with familiarity as she guided Lunar toward the empty seat beside her. "Sit."
Lunar obeyed almost immediately, though her voice caught slightly in her throat as she lowered herself into the chair, back straightening out of reflex.
"A-ah… thank you, Madam…?"
The woman blinked once. Then she laughed.
"Oh please," she said, waving a dismissive hand as if batting away something ridiculous. "I am far too old to be called Madam. Just call me Grandma Judy, little one."
She smiled sweetly at Lunar, and the warmth in it dissolved some of the stiffness in Lunar's shoulders.
Lunar nodded quickly. "Then… thank you. And nice to meet you, Grandma Judy. I'm Lunar. Lunar Light."
The green eyes studying her flickered with something knowing.
"Oh, I know," Judy replied gently.
Lunar blinked in surprise. "You… do?"
Before Judy could answer, Oscietra straightened beside her mother and spoke instead.
"This lady here," she said, gesturing toward the grey-haired woman, "is one of Australia's top trainers. She's also my mother's former trainer. Judy Aihara."
Lunar's eyes widened slightly at the information.
Oscietra continued, her violet gaze shifting between the two older women as her tone sharpened just enough to suggest she was piecing things together in real time. "She must've known you from your debut win last week, Lunar. And something tells me this meeting wasn't exactly a coincidence."
Exceed and Excel tilted her head slightly, lifting her porcelain cup as though she were entirely uninvolved in whatever was being implied, while Judy immediately raised both hands in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright!" she admitted, not looking guilty in the slightest. "Yes, I used Exceed to help set this up."
She leaned closer to Lunar with a conspiratorial smile, lowering her voice as if sharing a scandalous secret.
"But can you blame me? Trying to even catch a glimpse of this child's figure is harder than attempting to break into a bank. That Nelly certainly knows how to keep this one protected."
That… tracked more than Lunar wanted to admit.
The days following her debut had been overwhelming in a way she hadn't anticipated. Word had spread faster than she expected, and from what little she overheard, Aunt Nel's office had been buried under a mountain of requests. Some arrived wrapped neatly in polished professionalism—offers of sponsorship, invitations to exclusive development programs, proposals framed as collaborative growth opportunities—but beneath the refined wording, the message had always been the same.
They wanted to be her trainer.
Lunar hadn't felt flattered so much as unsettled. It wasn't that she disliked the idea; she understood the value of a trainer, the structure, the external perspective, the strategic refinement that came from experienced guidance. It simply wasn't something she had ever envisioned for herself.
She remembers having once asked momma if she ever had one to which she denied. And when Lunar inquired why, momma had simply shaken her head and said, "It just wasn't meant to be."
There had been something complicated in her expression when she said it, something layered with history Lunar didn't yet understand, but she had been perceptive enough to recognize that it wasn't a path she should pry into.
So she hadn't.
When she later told Aunt Nel that she wasn't interested in being recruited, the flood of attention had vanished almost overnight. No follow-up letters. No persistent inquiries. No polite but insistent reminders. It was as though an invisible wall had been erected around her without her ever seeing it go up.
Which meant Aunt Nel had clearly stepped in behind the scenes and drawn a very firm line.
The fact that someone as accomplished as Grandma Judy had needed to coordinate through Oscietra's mother just to secure a simple meeting made that reality even clearer.
Oscietra seemed to reach the same conclusion.
"You can give up now if you're planning to recruit her," Oscietra said at last, folding her arms loosely across her chest as she fixed Grandma Judy with a look. "She's not interested in having a trainer right now."
Judy waved her hand loosely in response, her green eyes sparkling with amusement rather than offense.
"What do you take this old lady for?" she replied lightly. "I'm not nearly desperate enough to go hunting for trainees. Those two basket cases I'm already handling are more than enough trouble for one lifetime."
Oscietra didn't relax. Her gaze sharpened just slightly as she tilted her head. "Then why go this far just to meet her?"
There was no hostility in her tone, but there was unmistakable protectiveness, and Lunar felt a small warmth bloom in her chest at that.
Judy didn't answer immediately. Instead, she studied Lunar openly now, not in a calculating way, but in a quieter, almost nostalgic manner, as if comparing her to a memory only she could see.
Her gaze lingered on Lunar's silver hair, then on her pale yellow eyes, then onto the girl's face in its entirety.
Then she smiled.
"I just wanted to meet Guair's Light's daughter," she said gently, her voice losing its teasing edge and settling into something sincere. "That's all."