Another couple of races went on afterwards with more or less the same thing happening, and now yet another was already nearing its climax with Lunar carefully tracking the movement as the girls pushed into the final stretch. What began as a competitive and packed field had gradually turned into a fierce three-way battle between Sakura's roommate, Iyasaka, Class president Ryuno Amazoness, and Junior B's president Plan Nine on the final corner.
"Come on, Iyasaka- chan—!" Sakura's voice rang out beside Lunar' ear, filled with urgency as she leaned forward, showcasing how invested she was in her roommate's performance and hopeful triumph.
It looked like a clean contest at first with the three of them entering the turn nearly side by side. However, the moment they committed to the corner, something began to go wrong. Ryuno Amazoness and Plan Nine, completely absorbed in their own head-to-head duel, started drifting inward toward each other, their focus narrowing so much that they seemed to lose awareness of anything beyond their direct rivalry.
And caught right between them was Iyasaka.
Lunar's expression tightened as she saw the space begin to close in from both sides. "…That's really bad," she murmured under her breath as the situation turned dangerous.
Trapped between the two, Iyasaka was left with no safe option but to react. Rather than risk being boxed in completely—or worse, having her legs clipped and going down—she pulled back, her stride faltering as she was forced to slow just enough to avoid contact. It was only a brief hesitation, a split-second adjustment, but in a race where momentum meant everything, even that small disruption was enough to cost her dearly.
Sakura clicked her tongue in clear frustration, her brows knitting together as she watched her roommate lose ground. "…They blocked her," she said sharply, unable to hide the irritation in her voice.
In any official race, that kind of movement would have drawn immediate penalties, if not outright disqualification, as it clearly impeded another runner's path, but here, in this mock setting, no call was made and the race simply continued as if nothing had happened.
Ryuno Amazoness and Plan Nine burst out of the corner and into the final straight still locked side by side, their rivalry burning just as fiercely as before as they sprinted toward the finish line, neither willing to concede even the slightest advantage. Behind them, Iyasaka pushed forward with determination, trying to recover from the disruption, though the gap that had opened was now painfully visible.
Lunar's gaze flickered between them, her thoughts racing as she tried to piece together what she was seeing until they finally crossed.
Both Ryuno Amazoness and Plan Nine hit the finish line at almost the exact same moment, their strides landing in near perfect sync, making it nearly impossible to tell who had taken it. Iyasaka crossed behind them shortly after, followed closely by the rest of the runners who streamed in one after another, the race concluding in a blur of motion and heavy breaths.
Right afterwards, Ryuno Amazoness slowed to a stop and threw her arm up. "That's mine!" she declared confidently, already celebrating. "I won that!"
"Excuse me?!" Plan Nine shot back at the declaration, spinning toward her with a sharp glare. "In what world? That was clearly my win!"
The two of them began bickering instantly, voices rising as they argued back and forth, each completely convinced of their own victory, their competitive energy refusing to deminish even after the race had ended.
"ENOUGH!"
The single word cracked through the air like thunder.
Principal Sato's voice echoed through the field with overwhelming authority, silencing both of them instantly. The tension snapped, and all attention shifted toward him as he stood there with a firm and furious look.
He did not speak right away, instead lowering his gaze briefly to his race clock, the numbers reflecting clearly in his eyes as he confirmed the result before lifting his head once more to address them. "…Neither of you won," he said plainly but absolutely.
Both Ryuno Amazoness and Plan Nine froze where they stood, their expressions shifting into stunned disbelief, mirrored by the murmurs that began to ripple through the spectators who clearly hadn't expected that answer either.
Principal Sato continued with the final ruling. "The winner is Iyasaka, recorded time, 1:16.17."
"…Me?" Iyasaka pointed at herself in complete disbelief, unsure if what she heard was correct or her disappointment was just playing with her by creating a weird scenario.
For a moment, the field remained in stunned silence, but it didn't last long.
"That's not fair!" Ryuno Amazoness protested, her voice rising again as she stepped forward, clearly unwilling to accept the decision. "I crossed the line first—-There's no way I didn't win that!"
" I was ahead of her!" Plan Nine added just as quickly, her tone sharp and defensive as she gestured toward the confused Iyasaka. "It doesn't make sense—she finished behind ME, so how is she the winner?!"
Their voices overlapped, frustration bleeding into their words as they tried to argue their cases, but before either of them could push the matter any further—
"Silence!"
Principal Sato's voice cracked through the air once more, even heavier this time, laced with explosive anger that bounced off everything. Both girls fell quiet on instinct, their protests dying in their throats as they stiffened under the weight of his voice.
For a brief moment, he said nothing at all. He simply looked at them.
The sternness in his gaze bore down on Ryuno Amazoness and Plan Nine alike, pressing into them that made even their earlier defiance falter, and without realizing it, both of them shrank back ever so slightly under the pressure, their confidence withering away in the face of it.
In all the time Lunar had known him, Principal Sato had always been gentle—soft-spoken, patient, the kind of person who carried himself with a warm, familial kindness that made it easy to approach him. He had always greeted her with a smile, always taken the time to answer her questions no matter how small they were, his presence more akin to that of a calm, reassuring uncle than a strict authority figure.
She had never seen Sato-ojisan like this before…
After a second, he exhaled slowly, reining himself back in, before turning his head toward the stands. "Speedy."
"Yeah, Principal?" Speedy Kick responded at the call, standing up from her seat with a half eaten sandwich still in hand.
"Tell them," Principal Sato said, his voice calm again, though the underlying disappointment had not faded in the slightest. "Why did neither of them win?"
Speedy answered calmly. "Because they blocked Iyasaka-senpai's path at the final corner," she answered clearly. "That counts as an illegal move since it interfered with another runner's line, so both of them are disqualified."
A quiet murmur rippled through the crowd at the explanation, though no one dared to speak too loudly.
Principal Sato gave a small nod. "Thank you. You may sit."
"Got it," Speedy replied, dropping back into her seat without fuss and consuming the sandwich in her hand.
Then, slowly, Principal Sato turned his attention back to the two girls standing before him. "…Do you understand now?" he asked.
Neither Ryuno Amazoness nor Plan Nine spoke. Instead, they gave small, silent nods, their earlier confidence replaced by quiet acknowledgment, their eyes lowered just enough to show that they understood fully, and that they had no ground left to argue.
But that wasn't the end of it.
"I am disappointed in both of you," Principal Sato continued, his voice firm, carrying across the entire field, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "As acting representatives of your respective classes, I expected you to set an example for the others. Instead, what I witnessed was recklessness—two immature fillies who endangered their fellow yearmate and disrupted her race entirely."
The words landed heavily, and this time, no one reacted. The entire field fell into complete silence, the weight of his rare outburst pressing down on everyone present, making even the air feel tense and suffocating.
"And the same goes for all of you who acted in a similar manner today!"
His voice rose again, louder, sharper that showcased how angry he was as his gaze swept over the gathered students, leaving no room for anyone to think they were exempt. It lingered briefly on Quenya, whose earlier conduct had clearly not gone unnoticed, and under that brief but piercing look, she immediately lowered her eyes, unable to meet it.
No one spoke. No one dared to. Because by now, it was clear to everyone present that this was no longer about a single incident or a single race.
"I have been made aware," Principal Sato went on, his tone lowering slightly but losing none of its weight, "of the growing strain between Junior A and Junior B over the past few months. Reports of small incidents, petty conflicts, unnecessary friction—I have heard of them all."
A quiet tension rippled through the students, but it never broke into sound.
"This mock race," he continued, lifting the clipboard slightly in his hand, "was meant to give me the opportunity to witness the situation firsthand. And I had hoped—truly—that I would not need to intervene like this."
His gaze hardened just slightly, enough to make several students lower their heads or look away. "But your actions today have gone beyond what I can overlook."
That, more than anything, seemed to land the hardest.
Lunar swallowed quietly, her eyes shifting as she took in the subtle changes around her—some students looked ashamed, others frustrated, while a few simply stared at the ground, unwilling to face him at all.
Then Principal Sato glanced down at the clipboard in his hand, and when he spoke again, whatever trace of gentleness had once been there was gone entirely. "Your times… are pathetic."
The statement landed harshly.
Lunar visibly flinched at the bluntness of it, and she wasn't the only one; a ripple of shock passed through both classes as murmurs almost threatened to rise before being immediately suppressed under the weight of his presence.
"Aside from Rickey," he continued without pause, "who secured an early lead and avoided interference, and Shot, whose finishing kick demonstrated both effort and potential, not a single one of you managed to finish below one minute and sixteen seconds."
For training races of this level, the average finishing time typically hovered between one minute fourteen to one minute fifteen, a standard that most of them should have been capable of reaching under normal circumstances. Falling above one minute sixteen didn't just mean they had performed poorly—it meant that, across the board, they had underperformed to a noticeable degree, their results dragged down not only by mistakes, but by their inability to maintain focus in the face of petty rivalry.
That realization made everything feel worse.
"And do you know what frustrates me the most?" he asked, lifting his gaze once more to meet them all.
No one answered.
"It is not that you are slow." His voice dropped slightly, yet the intensity behind it only deepened, pressing down on everyone in a way that made it impossible to look away.
"If you lacked speed, I would encourage you. If you struggled, I would guide you. Improvement takes time, and that is something I would gladly support." There was a brief pause. "But I know what each of you is capable of."
That was the line that broke them.
Lunar felt it without needing to look around—the subtle tightening of shoulders, the way a few students lowered their heads just a fraction more, the quiet, collective recognition that his words had struck exactly where they needed to.
"And yet," he continued, "instead of striving to run faster, to push your limits, to test yourselves against the track… you chose to focus on each other."
Each word landed cleanly, cutting through the silence with clinical precision.
"You slowed one another down. You obstructed. You fought for position not to win the race… but to make sure someone else would lose."
No one moved.
"You became so fixated on not losing to a specific person," he said, his voice rising just slightly now, "that you forgot the purpose of racing entirely."
Lunar felt her chest tighten at that.
"To run," Principal Sato went on, each word spoken with care, "is to move YOURSELF forward. To challenge YOURSELF. To become faster than YOU were yesterday."
His gaze swept across both classes again, leaving no one untouched.
"But what I saw today…" he paused, his expression unreadable for a moment, "…was a group of talented students wasting their potential, choosing conflict over growth."
Silence followed. Complete, suffocating silence. Even the wind felt like it couldn't move under the pressure.
"And that," he finished. "is what disappoints me the most."
Ryuno Amazoness moved first, The earlier fire in her eyes had vanished completely as she stepped forward and lowered her head in a deep bow, her demeanor filled with regret as she apologized for her actions. Beside her, Plan Nine followed suit without hesitation, mirroring the gesture with equal sincerity, her usual confidence gone, replaced instead by a quiet acknowledgment of fault.
That single act seemed to break whatever invisible barrier had been holding the rest back.
One by one, students from both Junior A and Junior B began to follow, heads lowering as apologies spilled out across the field in a scattered but growing wave. Some were soft and swallowed by shame, while others spoke more clearly, but all of them carried the same underlying understanding that they had crossed a line.
Lunar watched it all in silence, her eyes slowly widening at the sight of everyone bowing together like that, the tension that once crackled so violently between the two classes now dissolving into something much more subdued, much more reflective after Sato-ojiisan's interference.
Principal Sato remained motionless for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the bowed figures, and then, as if satisfied, he exhaled softly, the sharp edge in his presence easing just slightly. "…Raise your heads," he said.
They all obeyed the command, though many still avoided direct eye contact, lingering traces of embarrassment evident in their expressions.
"I understand," Principal Sato continued, his tone calmer now, though no less firm, "that competition naturally breeds rivalry. The desire to win, to surpass others, to prove yourself… these are not negative things. In fact, they are necessary if you want to become the best."
A few students shifted slightly at that, uncertainty flickering across their faces as they tried to follow where he was leading.
"But," he added, lifting a finger slightly in emphasis. "they should never become your sole reason for running."
His gaze softened—not entirely, but enough.
"To truly run is to enjoy it," he went on, his voice slowing, taking on a more thoughtful cadence. "To feel the rush of the wind against your skin, the firmness of the ground beneath your feet, the rhythm of your strides echoing with every step, and the anticipation that builds as your speed increases…"
A few coughs escaped before he finished. "If you lose sight of that… if all you see is the person beside you that you must defeat… then you will never reach your highest potential."
Lunar felt it resonate within her at once, her breath catching slightly as something familiar stirred deep in her chest, because she had heard words like these before—long ago, in a place far warmer than this, spoken in a voice far gentler.
"Running should never feel like a burden, Lunar… you should always find joy in it."
Her mother's words surfaced so clearly in her mind that for a fleeting moment, it felt as though she were standing right beside her again, and without even realizing it, a small, quiet smile formed on Lunar's lips as she held onto that memory.
Meanwhile, around her, the rest of the students remained silent, many of them visibly affected by the words in ways they probably hadn't expected.
Principal Sato allowed that silence to rest for a brief moment before straightening once more, his presence regaining that firm authority. "Now that I have addressed the symptoms," he said, his tone sharpening slightly again, "it is time to remove the root of the problem."
That single sentence sent a subtle ripple through both classes, unease flickering across more than a few faces.
"I want Sakura… and Validissimus… to step forward. Now."
Lunar's head snapped toward Sakura, her expression tightening just slightly, but Sakura herself didn't look surprised in the slightest. Instead, she simply let out a quiet breath, as if she had been expecting this all along, and turned her head just enough to meet Lunar's gaze.
There was no fear there—only a calm reassurance. "It's okay," her eyes seemed to say.
Then, without another word, Sakura gently released her hold onto Lunar's back and rose to her feet, her movements composed as she stepped away from their spot and began walking toward Principal Sato.
Lunar watched her go, a faint unease dissolving in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, her attention was drawn to the opposite side.
From the Junior B line, another figure stepped forward.
The girl was tall—noticeably so—with a toned, athletic build that immediately reminded Lunar of Namawa, though her height pushed even closer to someone like Saiya. Her short brown hair was swept messily to the left in a way that felt almost careless, yet intentional, giving her an appearance that leaned strikingly androgynous. What stood out the most, however, were her eyes—one a sharp blue, the other a piercing yellow—mismatched in a way that felt almost unnatural, yet strangely fitting.
There was an unorthodox presence about her, something that didn't quite align with the others not just by appearance but based on the vibe that she radiates.
And as she stepped forward with a confidence that bordered on defiance, even in front of Principal Sato…
Lunar's mind came to an understanding. So this is Validissimus.
Principal Sato allows his gaze to move between them with a level of calm that feels far scarier than outright anger before he finally spoke."I have already received a full and detailed report regarding what transpired that day," he began, sparing neither of them a second glance as he continued, "so I will not waste time circling around the matter."
His eyes locked toward Validissimus first. "Tell me," he said plainly, "why did you act so hostile toward Sakura? Was there an ongoing conflict between the two of you even before that race?"
The question hung in the air, but Validissimus did not answer. She simply stood there in silence, arms at her sides, her posture rigid and her expression set in a stubborn, defiant neutrality, refusing to acknowledge the question at all.
Principal Sato observed her for a moment longer before giving a small nod. "…Very well. I will take that silence as a 'yes.'"
"Wait—no way, Principal!" Sakura immediately cut in, her voice rising in disbelief as she stepped forward slightly. "I didn't even know this girl existed until that day!"
That was the first crack.
Validissimus's expression shifted, just barely, but it was enough to reveal something.
A low, bitter scoff escaped her before she spoke, her voice low and deep but edged enough to cut. "You and your self-centered personality… this is exactly why I dislike you."
Sakura's eyes widened for a split second before the words hit properly—and when they did, her restraint shattered completely.
"You think I don't dislike you too?!" she snapped back instantly, her voice flaring with anger as she took another step towards the taller girl. "Why should I know you, huh?! You with that scary and unappealing face of yours!"
The moment those words left her mouth, something changed. Validissimus's composure cracked even further.
Her mismatched eyes narrowed sharply, something raw flashing through them as she finally reacted outwardly, her voice rising with a bite that hadn't been there before. "A good-for-nothing who only has her looks to rely on shouldn't be talking to me like that!"
The tension between them ignited instantly, the air turning volatile as they began throwing words at each other without restraint, each sentence sharper than the last, each jab aimed to hurt rather than argue, and for a brief moment it truly felt like things might escalate beyond words.
"Stop it."
The single command cut through everything.
Principal Sato hadn't raised his voice much, but he didn't need to—the authority behind it was enough.
Both girls froze immediately, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence as they stood there, still brimming with unresolved anger, yet no longer daring to speak another word.
He let that silence linger just long enough before continuing. "…Whatever is going on between the two of you," he said, his tone firm but no longer heated, "is clearly personal, and I neither intend nor believe it is my place to interfere with that."
There was a slight pause before his gaze hardened again. "But as the principal of this academy, I am obligated to intervene when personal matters begin to disrupt the environment of my students."
His eyes briefly flicked toward both classes before returning to the two in front of him. "And as long as this 'Junior A versus Junior B' conflict continues to be fueled by the two of you, then it will not end."
"Which is why," he continued, "I require both of you to apologize to each other."
Sakura's expression twisted almost instantly, disbelief flashing across her face as frustration surged to the surface.
"That's not fair!" she protested, her voice tightening as she took a half-step forward. "Why should I be the one apologizing? I don't even know what I did wrong—if I even did anything wrong in the first place!"
Beside her, Validissimus remained silent, though the set of her posture and the stubbornness in her expression made it clear she had no intention of speaking either.
Still, Principal Sato did not budge.
"I am not asking you to determine who is right or wrong," he replied calmly to Sakura's outburst. "I am telling you to apologize so that this matter can end, and everyone else can move forward."
The words hung between them, but neither girl moved, neither willing to be the first to give in, as though even this had become its own quiet contest of pride.
"…If you refuse," he added, voicing out something that seemed to come off as a small threat. "then I will have no choice but to assign both of you detention."
That made Sakura falter, her mouth parting slightly in disbelief.
"And not just any detention, but a supervised, isolated session… where the two of you will be seated next to each other for several hours."
That seemed to do it as Validissimus reacted to that, her otherwise cold composure twitching ever so slightly at the implication.
A long, tense pause followed.
Then—
"…I'm sorry."
The words came out flat, forced, completely devoid of sincerity as Validissimus muttered them without even sparing Sakura a glance, her eyes fixed somewhere else entirely.
Lunar, watching from the side, was fairly certain that was the most unconvincing apology she had ever heard in her life.
Sakura looked just as unwilling. "…Sorry," she returned, her tone equally dry, laced with irritation to the point it sounded less like an apology and more like a curse she was being forced to utter.
And just like that…The "resolution" was complete.
Even if absolutely no one believed it.
Principal Sato stood there for a moment after the forced exchange of apologies, his expression turning into something that could only be described as… half-satisfied. It was far from perfect, far from genuine, but at the very least, it was something—a starting point, perhaps.
With a quiet exhale, he let the matter rest and shifted his attention elsewhere, glancing down at his watch as his brows drew together slightly at the time. "…Hm."
That small sound alone was enough to draw attention back to him.
"It seems," he continued, lifting his head to address everyone once more, "that we have less than five minutes remaining before your next class begins."
A collective pause followed as the realization sank in, and then—
Groans.
Audible, widespread, and completely unrestrained groans of disappointment rippled through both Junior A and Junior B, some students dragging their feet while others muttered under their breath about not wanting to go to the next class.
Math class next… right? Lunar thought to herself.
Strangely enough, she didn't feel disappointed at all—in fact, if anything, she found it a little exciting. There was something about numbers and patterns that she genuinely enjoyed, even if most of her classmates seemed to think otherwise.
"But!" Principal Sato suddenly shouted, instantly regaining everyone's attention. "Before we dismiss," he continued, a small glint appearing in his eyes, "we should have just enough time… for a demonstration."
That single word was enough to spark curiosity. Murmurs began to spread again, softer this time, filled with intrigue rather than complaint.
"Lunar Light!"
Lunar jolted. "W-Wha—?!" she almost squeaked, instinctively straightening up as all attention shifted toward her.
"Would you please proceed to the starting line?"
For a moment, she simply blinked, her mind taking a second longer than usual to catch up with what had just been said. Then, quickly, she nodded, a little flustered but not resisting. "O-oh—me? Y-yeah, sure, Principal!"
She pushed herself up from her seat and lightly jogged toward the starting line, her heart picking up just a little at the suddenness of it all.
Principal Sato turned back toward the gathered students, his presence immediately reclaiming the field as he questioned them. "You all remember what I said earlier, correct?"
The chatter died down at that.
"To reach your fullest potential," he continued, "you must first learn to enjoy what you are doing." His hand lifted, gesturing toward the silver-haired girl now standing at the line. "Lunar here, will demonstrate exactly what I mean."
That single introduction was enough to stir the students once more, curiosity mixing with skepticism as eyes shifted between each other and the new pretty girl that they weren't familiar with.
"I want all of you," Principal Sato added encouragingly, "to pay close attention. What you are about to see… I hope it reminds you of why you run in the first place."
Among the students, conversations quietly sparked. Dear Rickey leaned slightly toward Via, lowering her voice into an excited whisper. "…He's really fired up about this all of a sudden," she muttered. "What exactly is Lunar going to show us that even the principal is acting like this…?"
Via didn't answer. Her eyes remained fixed on the silver-haired figure at the starting line, her expression unreadable as her thoughts churned beneath the surface, piecing together fragments that didn't quite form a complete picture yet. "…I wonder…"
Before that thought could settle further, she felt movement beside her. Via glanced sideways—and blinked.
Sakura had taken the seat next to her, and she was nothing like before. Gone was the irritation, the sharp edge from earlier—instead, her entire presence had become brighter. Her pink eyes were wide and sparkling with anticipation, essentially screaming "I can't wait to see this."
Via raised a brow, a faint and questioning smile tugging at her lips. "Excited to see Lunar run, Sakura-san?"
Sakura nodded in eagerness. "Of course I am," she replied, her voice carrying excitement that she didn't bother hiding. "I haven't seen her run since we were little."
That caught Via's interest immediately. "Oh…?" she leaned slightly closer, curiosity piqued. "How did Lunar run back then?"
Sakura paused for a brief moment, her gaze drifting toward Lunar as if searching for the right words. "…Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "How do I say it…?"
A second passed. Then, her eyes lit up. "Ah! I know!"
In the background, Principal Sato's voice rang out, shouting over towards Lunar in the distance. "Ready!.... Set!..… "
Sakura's smile widened just a little as she leaned forward, her eyes locked onto Lunar at the starting line. "Free!"
"Go!"
Lunar launched herself off the line.
It wasn't just fast—it was startlingly abrupt, an explosive release of energy that made several heads snap forward in unison as she shot out like a compressed spring finally let loose, her body already angled low the moment she left the ground, just enough to channel every bit of force into forward momentum without wasting a single motion trying to stabilize after the start.
"Woah—!" Dear Rickey blurted out almost immediately, eyes widening as she leaned forward in her seat. "That start…!" She paused for a fraction of a second, as if recalculating what she had just seen, then added in genuine disbelief, "…that's even faster than mine."
Her brows knit together as she kept watching, excitement and curiosity flickering sharply in her gaze. "Is she a front-runner too…? Did she train her start like that?"
No one answered her, because nobody else seemed to know either.
Lunar tore down the short straight with frightening efficiency, her strides long yet incredibly controlled, carrying her into the first wide corner without the slightest sign of imbalance or hesitation—and that was where things began to feel even more unreal.
As her foot met the dirt at the turn, Lunar felt the ground speaking to her.
It told her exactly how much to lean, how far to extend, how to redistribute her weight so nothing would be wasted in the curve—and Lunar followed it without resistance, her body adjusting in perfect response as she dipped into the turn with seamless precision.
And as usual, she accelerated.
"How!? How is she getting faster?!" Iyasaka shouted from the stands before she could stop herself, her voice breaking through the rising noise.
That single outburst seemed to trigger the rest, as an uproar followed almost immediately—voices stacking over one another in disbelief as Lunar didn't just maintain her speed through the corner, but actually built upon it, her pace climbing instead of dropping, her movement so fluid it barely looked like she was fighting against centrifugal force at all.
Via blinked once. Then again.
"…That's not…" she muttered under her breath, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes as though the sight in front of her might reset if she looked away for just a second. "That's not possible…"
And yet, it was happening right in front of her.
Beside her, Sakura didn't say a word, she could only watch. Her eyes were wide, shining with something that could only be described as awe, her lips parting slightly like she was seeing something familiar, and yet completely beyond what she remembered.
And somehow… even that memory of Lunar, the one she had carried all these years, was being rewritten in real time.
Meanwhile, Lunar herself… was smiling.
The wind brushed past her face, the air rushing against her skin as her feet dug into the dirt with each step that made… everything else fade away from her mind.
This… feels nice.
There was something deeply comforting about it; the texture of the ground beneath her feet, the subtle resistance of the dirt giving way and returning with each step, the rhythm of impact and release—it all brought her back.
Back to the track behind her old home, back to running alongside her mother. A soft warmth spread through her chest as the memory took over. I should visit Momma this weekend…
The thought came so naturally that she didn't question it. Oh—and I should bring flowers too…
Another step taken, another breath exhaled. Maybe it's also a good time to finally meet Hanako-san while I'm at it..
Her thoughts drifted so casually, so freely, that anyone would have thought she wasn't taking this seriously at all. And in truth…She really wasn't feeling the race, she was just mindlessly enjoying the run.
But that only made it more absurd.
Because despite that ease, despite that wandering mind, Lunar exited the corner flawlessly, her form stayed solid as she carried even more speed and momentum into the next stretch than she had when entering it, her strides light and fluid.
From the sidelines, Validissimus's eyes narrowed slightly, her usual mask of composure slipping entirely as she watched Lunar. "…What…?" she murmured under her breath.
Because what she was seeing didn't make sense.
Lunar wasn't running the way a normal uma musume ran on dirt—there was no heavy kickback, no forceful digging that sent soil flying wildly into the air. Instead, her strides were clean, almost delicate in appearance, gliding across the surface as if she were on turf rather than dirt, her movements so efficient that barely any debris scattered behind her.
It was… wrong.
Or perhaps…It wasn't wrong at all.
"She's… not even struggling…" Last Shot commented, her voice quieter now, carrying a faint edge of disbelief as she watched Lunar continue to accelerate. "…She's running at full pace the entire time…" Her fingers curled slightly. "That's… scary."
Because as someone who avoided exactly that—someone who carefully conserved stamina, who held herself back until the final stretch before unleashing everything in a decisive burst—she understood better than most how draining that kind of running should have been.
And yet, Lunar showed no signs of paying that price. No strain in her shoulders. No tightening in her breath. No visible fatigue at all.
She just kept going.
Faster… and faster… without hesitation, without hesitation becoming caution, and without caution ever turning into slowdown.
Lunar's rhythm was so natural and precise that it felt less like she was running and more like she was dancing across the track, each stride landing with perfect cadence, each push forward seamlessly connecting into the next as she entered the final straight.
There was no visible error, no visible effort in the way her form held itself together so effortlessly, and most striking of all—there was no sign of her reaching a limit to her speed, like if given a longer track, she could have gone even faster.
Speedy had gone completely still at some point, her sandwich forgotten in her hand as her eyes remained locked onto the silver-haired figure running in the distance. For once, the usually carefree girl said nothing, simply watching in quiet awe… until something clicked in her mind. "…She looks so happy…"
The words were soft, but they carried.
"…Huh?" someone beside her blinked, following her gaze more closely, and then—"…wait, she actually does…"
One by one, the students around her began to notice it too.
"…She's smiling."
"…She doesn't look stressed at all…"
"…It's like she's not even thinking about anything else…"
And it was true.
Even from a distance, it was easy to see.
Lunar's expression was relaxed, her lips curved into a soft, genuine smile as she ran, her entire presence free of tension, free of pressure, as if the world had closed down to just a single, simple truth— the track beneath her feet, and the wind moving past her.
There was nothing else. No pressure, nor any expectation, nor any opponents.
Just running.
Via's maroon eyes squinted slightly as she watched, her thoughts turning over in slow, uncertain loops. …Is this what Principal Sato meant?
The idea lingered in her mind, refusing to leave.
Validissimus stood in silence, her mismatched eyes fixed on Lunar's incoming figure as it flew down the final stretch, her expression far more complicated than before. There was no mockery now, no easy dismissal—only a tightening of her gaze, as if trying to make sense of something that refused to fit into her understanding.
Principal Sato watched with a quiet fondness that returned to his features at the center of it all, his earlier sternness completely gone as he observed the approaching figure with patient anticipation. His hand hovered over the race clock, steady and precise, waiting for the exact moment.
Lunar closed in on the finish line.
Closer.
Closer—
The instant a single strand of her silver hair crossed the line, his thumb pressed down.
A sharp click.
The field erupted.
Cheers burst out from both sides—loud, unrestrained, filled with a mix of excitement, disbelief, and something else that hadn't been there before, something lighter that united them all under the same banner for the first time in a meaningful while.
Principal Sato lowered the clock slightly, his eyes scanning the numbers for just a brief second before he lifted his head again.
And then, clearly, for everyone to hear—
"Lunar Light… 1:10.02 seconds."