Hagdang Bato

The bell of Danee’s school rang in the late afternoon. Minutes later, the exit swarmed with students and parents waiting to pick up their children. The usually cheerful Uma walked out last, choosing to go home alone instead of walking with friends.

The image on the giant screen at the square flashed in her head. The murmurs around her. The sighs of disappointment. A few encouraging whispers, almost drowned in the noise.

She understood the expectations. There hadn’t been a Triple Crown winner in six years. Ibarra was one win away—and if not for the injury, it would have been a walk in the park.

Danee imagined her sister holding the gold trophy and sash. Why not? Ibarra was a hardworking sister: diligent with her studies, racing hard for her scholarship, even sending part of her allowance home to help their mother.

“This sucks. Ate deserves to win...” Danee frowned as her stomach growled in protest. “Right. I missed lunch.”

“Look who’s hungry.”

Danee looked ahead. Ibarra stood before her, hands on her hips.

“What are you doing spacing out on the street?”

Before Danee could answer, her eyes brimmed and her lips quivered.

“Ate...” she sniffled, voice trembling.

“Oi, don’t cry here. It’s embarrassing.” Ibarra flicked her sister’s nose with a crooked grin. Danee winced, fighting the tears back.

“Come on. Let’s eat chicken and unlimited rice. My treat, alright?”

Danee nodded, wiping her eyes.

“Okay. Give me spicy ones.”

---

After a feast of three fried chicken buckets and bowls of rice, the sisters strolled along the riverside avenue. Food stalls lit up one by one, flickering to life as the night market opened.

On a wooden bench, Ibarra laughed as Danee drowned herself in a liter of banana milk.

“Ah, right, you silly. I knew you couldn’t handle spicy food.”

Danee slammed the bottle down on the bench. “I’m a big horse girl now. This is nothing.”

But the laughter soon gave way to a heavier air. Something unspoken lingered between them—questions Danee had carried since the withdrawal announcement.

“How are you feeling, Ate?” she asked, voice quieter than before.

Ibarra froze. For once, her sister’s words outpaced her expectations.

“Well... it really stung, you know,” Ibarra admitted. “You don’t always get a chance like that.”

Winning major races meant sponsorships, promotions, and money. With their father working abroad, they never had to worry about finances, but Ibarra still wanted to lift the family’s burdens. Then, hopefully, their father can return home for good.

She leaned forward, elbows digging into her knees. “And if I win the Triple Crown... that was a guaranteed entry for you into the Academy.”

Danee turned her eyes to her sister.

“Don’t worry, Ate. I will win it for you.”

Ibarra blinked, surprised by her sister’s boldness. Then she smirked, ruffling Danee’s hair.

“Of course you can,” she chuckled.

“You don’t understand.” Danee pouted, then pulled a folded paper from her notebook. “Look. I want to show you something.”

She unfolded the letter, holding it out with pride.

“Tadah! The Academy invited me to their accelerated program.”

Ibarra’s eyes narrowed on the letter. President Sun Dancer and Vice Wind Blown talked about this a day ago.

She should have been happy. Maybe even treated Danee to dessert. But for some reason, her stomach twisted. Her hand brushed over her injured knee.

“Imagine, Ate. If I pass their tryouts, I’ll be a full scholar like you... I can—”

“I’m sorry, bunso.” Ibarra’s voice cut in. “But I think it’s still too early for you to enter.”

“Eh?”

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re talented. Extraordinary for your age. But you’re still young. You can still develop. Your time will come.”

Danee’s grip on the letter tightened.

“But... why not?”

Ibarra exhaled slowly. “Why do you want to get into the Academy?”

“I just... I want to race with you. And help Mama too...” Danee’s breath caught.

“The Academy isn’t a playground. Horse girls there work three times harder. They live with loneliness and pain. Some girls win, but more of them quit.”

Ibarra's hand pressed against her knee, the bandages hidden under her pants.

“We get injured... not knowing if we’ll ever run again.”

Danee fell silent, words dying in her throat.

“Was I wrong, Ate?” she whispered. “I won fair. I ran like everyone else. Why can’t I have a chance?”

Ibarra stared at her little sister. She knew the truth. Danee had earned this opportunity—not as her sister, but as the Umamusume Hagdang Bato.

And yet...

Without answering, she stood and dusted off her pants.

“Don’t be stubborn, Danee,” she said, hands slipping into her pockets as she turned to leave. “Let’s go.”

Danee lowered her gaze. She slipped the letter back into her notebook and quietly followed.

That night, Danee slid the letter underneath her pillow. Curled up with a sigh, she slowly drifted to sleep.

---

The next morning, loud banging rattled Danee’s door. She bolted upright, disoriented, eyes darting to her clock.

6:30 a.m.

“Safe...” she whispered, sighing with relief.

The banging didn’t stop. She stumbled to the door and opened it.

Ibarra stood there, bedhead a mess, eyes hollow from a sleepless night.

“Ate? Are you sick?”

“Hey. I’m sorry. I was harsh.”

Danee shook her head, confused more than hurt.

“Ah... damn it.” Ibarra clutched her head, cackling under her breath like a woman losing it.

“WAH!” Danee jumped. “I’m sorry—”

Ibarra exhaled hard.

“Let’s do it, you stubborn brat. The invitation.”

Danee’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

“What can I say? I guess I could use a little detour before my surgery.”

She ruffled Danee’s hair, lips curling into a grin.

“Be ready. I won’t show you any mercy. I’ll train you for two weeks, Academy-style. Don’t run home crying.”

Danee’s ears perked as she nodded furiously.

“Thanks, Ate! I’ll do my best!”