Back on the Track

The rain hadn’t let up for two days.

The Trainer stared at the field, gray and misty under the downpour. The torrent hammered the roof of Team Tri-Star’s office, but it couldn’t wash away the gloom.

“Danee hadn’t shown up for practice. Well, not like we’re gonna have any today,” he muttered.

Ibarra leaned back in her seat, one leg propped on a stool. “She went to her classes though.”

“She took it pretty badly, didn’t she?”

“I guess.”

The Trainer crossed his arms as he exhaled. Striding to his desk, he quickly slid into his seat and clicked on his computer, the screen partially lighting up his face.

“She ran out to the front, had a big lead at the first two turns. Then…”

He waved at Ibarra to watch as he scrubbed the video to the last corner.

“The chasers moved. Danee got boxed, and when it got physical, her pace weakened.”

Ibarra's eyes narrowed at his screen. "There it is. Danee's weakness."

Trainer nodded as he clicked his pen.

“She always runs at the front where other racers can't reach her. Her physical gifts give her that advantage. But because of that, she had never encountered such physicality.” Ibarra commented.

“Her bracket was tough," Trainer replied as he ran a finger through his list. "The names here… mostly students who lost their debut races once or twice.”

Ibarra recognized some of the listed contestants.

"These girls are no pushovers. At this point, they will fight tooth and nail for the chance. Talent alone won't cut.”

She glanced at the Trainer.

“Trainer, Danee is a work in progress. Please be patient with her.”

The Trainer groaned as he stretched. "Figured that even prodigies don’t have it easy. But she'll come around. I'll give my best to guide her."

Ibarra smiled faintly. "Thank you, Trainer."

"And you too." he quipped. "Focus on your recovery. You're also a work in progress."

Ibarra scoffed, waving her hand. "Yes, Trainer..."

Turning to the side, her eyes flicked on a marked date in the team calendar,

“Tomorrow, huh?” she smirked.

---

Rain streaked down Danee’s window, blurring the view outside.

She wanted to explore the campus for the weekend. Maybe bond with her sister. Make new friends. The storm ruined all of it.

Or did it?

Curled under her blanket, she scrolled aimlessly. Her cold feet pressed comfortably against the sheets, while the race replayed in her head.

She remembered surging to the front. One length. Two. More. Untouchable.

Then—near the marker—a chill gripped her spine. The runners behind her weren’t rivals anymore. They were wolves, bloodied and hungry, chasing down a quick, but defenseless hare.

Her hands clutched the blanket tight. Then, the phone buzzed against her arm.

“You have 1 new message.”

“Ate..?”

She quickly checked the notifications.

“Hey, bunso. Let’s watch the race tomorrow.”

Danee checked her personal calendar, a date she had marked as well.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

She stared at the note for a moment before opening her sister’s thread.

“Sorry ate… I’m not feeling we—”

Her fingers slowed to a stop, frozen on the screen.

---

In Ibarra’s room, she tapped her phone while lying in bed, lifting it now and then to check for Danee’s reply.

The rain beat against the window. Her heart raced with it—restless, uneasy, like nights before a big race.

She stood, limping to the glass, straining to glimpse the blurry track beyond.

“Triple Crown. That sounds nice…”

She pictured everything as if she planned the day to the smallest detail. Her race outfit. The course. The crowd's energy. Her pace and strategy. Front-run? Or surge late to surprise?

And at the end—gold.

Her pulse jumped as her phone vibrated.

“Okay, Ate. I’ll go.” Danee wrote.

Her lips curved faintly, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

For now, Danee’s company was enough.

---

The next morning, Danee arrived early at the Tri-Star office a bundle of nerves, unlike the first time she joined the team.

“Oh, Danee!” the Trainer greeted warmly.

“Uh, hello, Trainer...” She twirled her fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

With a smile, he gestured to the van.

“Come! Your sister's waiting.”

The van door slammed open. Ibarra leaned out.

“Hey, brat! Hop in!” she yelled, pointing at the front. “You go to the passenger seat, I need my space.”

---

In the stadium, Danee and the Trainer's footsteps echoed down the hallway toward Ibarra’s prep room, bringing a few snacks with them.

“Trainer, why is Ate in the dressing room? She’s not in the race.”

“Well, a few friends requested to see her before the race. She was given the room for the entire series, so why not?”

As they approached the door, rowdy noises filled the air.

Danee twisted the knob and peeked. Ibarra sat inside, surrounded by other horse girls. She swung the door a bit wider for a better look.

“Wait… that’s…” she murmured.

“Hey, Ibarra,” Es Twenty Six paused, arms folded. “I’ll definitely win the race today. But don’t go thinking you’re getting your way out of this because the next time we meet, I'll beat your sorry ass.”

Ibarra smirked. "Hoh? I swear I heard you gasping six lengths away in our last race."

"Why you little?!" Es fumed.

“Get well soon, Ibarra." Golden Sutter snickered, glancing at her fiesty competitor. "Es can’t stop yapping, even in sleep. She's gotten very sentimental without you.”

Es' eyes hollowed. "Say that again. Another word and I’ll send you to therapy after this guy.”

Laughter filled the room. Ibarra suddenly spotted Danee from the side and waved her over.

“Hey, Danee. Meet everyone.”

“H… hello…” Danee muttered, her ears folded.

Es Twenty Six walked towards her, scanning her from head to toe.

"Tch. Hey, kid." She told Danee. "I saw your race. It happens to everyone. You're doing fine, keep going.”

Danee blinked, caught off guard.

“Y..yes.. Thank you.”

Es turned to the door. “Let’s go. It’s about time.”

"Right. Good luck, everyone..." Ibarra smiled.

Golden Sutter and the other horse girls gave Ibarra a wave. Es, on the other hand, strode out quietly.

The room went silent once they left. Ibarra clenched her fists, smirking.

“Let’s go, Trainer, Danee.”

---

“Hah! It’s been a while,” Ibarra said, stepping into the stadium.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as the arena's electric energy washed over her. The entire stadium buzzed like a hive, louder by the minute.

They found a spot by the rails. Danee glanced at Ibarra, who radiated the spirit of a competitor-turned-spectator.

“Look here, bunso,” Ibarra tapped her shoulder. “I want you to watch everyone closely.”

The fanfare ended. The flag waved. Racers entered the gates.

The caster raised the mic, and the crowd held its breath.

“Race… start!”