The Next Stage

The sun settled brightly above the arena, now near empty save for a handful of fans hiding from the midday heat.

Danee stood at the stands as the warm breeze billowed against her skin: the lingering remnants of the electric atmosphere of the day’s race.

The loud cheers. The bruising, back-and-forth competition. The festive, feverish feel of it all.

And most importantly—her sister’s tears. Never before had she seen Ibarra so frustrated, so vulnerable, and it tore at something inside her.

Her hands clenched the rail.

“Ate… I’ll—”

“Ah… that Es…” Ibarra squinted, limping on her crutches as she stepped out into the open. “She just dumped me into the hot seat. What a jerk…”

Danee blinked, then muffled a giggle. “You’ve got great friends, Ate.”

“Tch. With whom? Es, who’s always angry?” Ibarra snapped back.

Danee poked her side. “You were screaming her name earlier while bawling your eyes out.”

“I got carried away,” Ibarra muttered, looking away.

Danee chuckled, turning her gaze back toward the racecourse.

“It felt great, didn’t it?” A voice cut in before she could respond.

“Trainer!”

“Are you good? Let’s grab lunch before we return to the Academy.” The Trainer smiled. Soon, the van revved to life and carried them away.

---

Upon arriving at the Academy, Ibarra and Danee parted ways. Danee headed straight to her dorm, while Ibarra was halted by the Trainer’s voice.

“Ibarra, we need to talk. Come to the office.”

With a questioning look, she nodded.

---

“A training camp?” Ibarra repeated, brows furrowing.

The Trainer pulled an opened envelope from his pouch and slid it across the desk.

“I met President Fair at the stadium earlier. She handed me this.”

Ibarra carefully took the documents—an official recommendation letter signed by the Academy Chairman, medical results, x-ray prints. She unfolded the sheets one by one, frowning as her lips silently formed the words.

“Underdeveloped limbs… Shin splints…”

“They didn’t find fractures,” the Trainer clarified. “But they believe Danee still needs time to develop physically. They’re worried she could be prone to serious injury.”

Ibarra exhaled, a weary sigh. “I somehow saw this coming, but…”

Another sheet slipped into her hand. She scanned it quickly, brow lifting.

“And this… Derby Camp? What is this supposed to be? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a newly established development project for juvenile horse girls—mostly for accelerated scholars,” the Trainer explained. “Each candidate gets a custom-tailored program based on their age and growth potential. They put a lot of focus on gradual development, with the goal of raising Derby-level Umas who can compete on the international stage.”

The Trainer clenched a curled fist onto the desk, eyes alight. “Can you imagine it, Ibarra? Danee—our Danee—representing the Philippines at the Dubai World Cup, or even the Kentucky Derby…”

Ibarra raised her brows. “Those are international G1 dirt races. Is that your dream too, Trainer?”

The Trainer stiffened.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Did you think I wasn’t capable?”

“N… not really. I just… I hadn’t thought about it that far,” he stammered.

“And now you do, just because Danee suddenly has the potential?” Her eyes narrowed. “You disappoint me, Trainer.”

“Ibarra, please…” He hunched his shoulders, scrambling. “The project is still new, I didn’t—”

Ibarra let the silence hang for a beat, then burst into laughter.

“Relax, I’m joking.” She smirked, turning to the window. “I always believed Danee was special. It’s great that the Academy recognizes it too.”

The Trainer cleared his throat. “Right… Well, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. But there are two things Danee needs to know first. Can I count on you to tell her?”

Ibarra nodded, more serious now. “Yeah. Leave it to me.”

---

“Really? You’re sure about this?” Ibarra asked, wide-eyed.

Danee sat calmly on a bench by the riverbank, the hum of the night market buzzing behind them. She held sweets in both hands, nibbling away.

“Mhm.” Danee nodded, munching her banana-cue without hesitation.

Ibarra rubbed her chin. “Hmm…”

“Calm down, Ate. Why are you so surprised?”

“Well, I thought you’d be against it entirely,” Ibarra admitted with a shrug. “That’s why I set the idea aside.”

Danee sipped her milk tea, then let out a shameless burp before leaning back on the bench.

“That’s true. I mean… two years away from you and Mama…” She gazed at the distant city lights. “I’ve been turning it over in my head for nights now.”

“Exactly. That’s why I didn’t want to force you into anything.” Ibarra softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. “So what changed?”

“The race we watched that day.”

Ibarra blinked. “The race?”

“I wanted to feel what you felt, Ate. Standing on the track. Fans cheering. The rush, the grit. Rivals pushing you tooth and nail. And then crossing the finish line, knowing you gave it everything.”

Her eyes followed a blinking aircraft tracing the night sky.

“When you cried back then… it hurt me too.”

Ibarra’s gaze drifted, distant. “Yeah… being sidelined stung harder than I thought. Not being able to run… what could be worse for a horse girl…”

Before the mood could sour, Danee shot up from the bench, slapping her thighs and cheeks.

“That’s why I’ll go to the Derby Camp! I’ll win my maiden race, and then another, and another! I know I’ve doubted myself before, but this time—I’ll do my best!”

Ibarra stared at her a little too long, then broke into a grin. She punched Danee on the shoulder. “That’s my bunso.”

“I promise, Ate. I’ll help Mama too. And when I get back, I’ll treat you to fried chicken—unli, if you want.”

“What can I say…” Ibarra breathed a long sigh of relief. “You’re really growing into a big horse girl now.”

Danee grinned wide, cheeks puffed with caramelized bananas, while Ibarra cackled and stole a sneaky sip of her milk tea.

---

Two weeks later.

At the bus stop, Danee and the Trainer waited with her luggage piled neatly at their side. Earlier that morning, she had gone to the Student President’s office, where President Fair and Vice Sun Dancer wished her luck with firm handshakes.

“Alright. I’m ready,” Danee declared cheerfully.

“Don’t forget to call your Ate,” the Trainer teased. “She’ll probably be bawling after the first night.”

Ibarra swatted him with her crutch.

The shuttle finally pulled up. After loading the bags, Danee took a deep breath and turned to face them one last time.

“I’m going now, Ate. Trainer.”

“Hey, brat.”

She turned, blinking.

“Just one year.” Ibarra cracked her knuckles. “I’ll run again. That’s a promise.”

She extended a fist. Without hesitation, Danee bumped it back.

A silent seal of trust.

As Danee boarded, Ibarra froze. For a moment, she saw her own younger self in her sister’s steps—a vision of what could have been, answered right before her eyes.

“Trainer…”

“Yes?”

“I need to be ready.” Ibarra smirked. “I'm not losing to a brat when she returns.”

The Trainer’s lips curled into a grin. “Of course.”