It was a dark, twisted version of her old world.

  An electrifying version of the world she had known for the last two weeks.

  Walking up the mountain with Bongo and Spirit, they passed a large crowd at the bottom, and saw smaller groups at every corner. Some of the observers cheered and waved, but most just talked with each other as their eyes followed the horse girls.

  “No admission price here, I suppose.” Woodland remarked.

  “We’ve still got people betting on or against us. Most likely against us, in this case.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Bongo asked, looking at her short friend.

  “Yeah, the Akagi girls are serious.”

  Woodland shivered. There was the excitement she had been missing for months. “I can’t wait to meet them.” She said. The training sessions had gotten better, but she had yet to beat Spirit. The other one called off training the last two days, saying they needed to be in their best condition for this. Woodland had kept up her morning training, and moved her nightly training to the same park. Her turning technique had gotten a lot better, and she was as ready as she could hope to be.

  They reached the starting position, to find the biggest crowd yet, and four horse girls standing by the starting line.

  “Haruna, you showed up after all. Thought you were ducking.” One called out, stepping forward. She was slightly taller than Woodland, with long gray hair tied in a single tail with a massive purple ribbon. “You must be Altas Spirit. I’m Minus On Hit.” She held out a hand to Woodland’s training partner.

  “Yeah, that’s me. This is my second, Westy.” The red haired horse girl shook her hand and tilted her head towards Woodland.

  “That sounds like a fake name.” Hit said, looking at Woodland.

  “She can run, so who cares.” Spirit said with a shrug. “I’m not asking you for your history, so don’t bother her for hers.”

  Hit laughed loudly, throwing her head back. “Fair enough! Hey Striker, get over here.” A brown-haired horse girl that was watching stepped forward. She was around the same height as Spirit, but thinner, appearing fragile. “This is Natsume Striker. Since it’s your mountain, I’ll let you pick the matchups.”

  Something about Natsume Striker bugged Woodland. She stared at the girl, taking in her appearance. Her brown hair was speckled with white splotches. That coloration seemed familiar. “If you have something to ask, don’t, unless you want to tell me your real name.”

  The horse girl’s voice didn’t match her frail-looking appearance at all. There was energy and passion there as she met Woodland’s eyes. “Not asking, just thinking.” Woodland replied.

  “Bongo, what do you think?” Spirit said, stepping back. Woodland followed them into a small huddle.

  “Um…I think Striker has less experience. You can easily beat her. Will be a closer match for Westy, though.”

  “Do I sacrifice Westy?”

  “Sacrifice? What’s going on?”

  “It’s a two on two fight. We pair off and race, and if one team doesn’t sweep, the winners face off. If I make you run against Hit, you can wear her down and get data for me. I just have to clean Striker out without giving away too much about myself. The other way around, we all in on the gamble. I go at Hit first, fresh and without scouting, and whoever wins gets it all.”

  “Second is better.” Woodland said.

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  The other two stared at her. “It uh, isn’t.” Bongo eventually told her.

  “Strategically it isn’t. I just want to race, though. Let me run without having to think about any of that. If you make me run against Hit, I’m not going to be trying to collect data, I’m going to be trying to win.”

  Spirit clicked her tongue. “Not a team player, I guess. Fine, have it your way.” She stepped out of the huddle and approached Minus on Hit. “I’ll have Westy run against Natsume Striker.”

  The gray-coat nodded, turning to her teammate. “You want first or second?” When Striker held up a single finger, she nodded again. “Well, there it is.”

  Spirit and Hit walked to opposite sides of the starting line, leaving Woodland, Bongo, and Striker there. Bongo took out her phone and opened the countdown app. “Get ready.” She said, standing at the very center of the line.

  The other two moved into position, and Woodland had that feeling again. The way Striker took her place at the line wasn’t like the way Spirit did. She just didn’t know what that meant. Doing her best to ignore it, she took her own position.

  Bongo tapped her phone, and three seconds later the buzzer went off, sending both horse girls racing down the road.

  Once again, Woodland found herself on the back foot immediately, but she didn’t mind.

  The crowd was roaring.

  The wind was whistling over her ears.

  Her shoes were pounding against the pavement.

  It might be dark, it might be twisted, it might be illegal, but this was her world. It was where she belonged. She ran, feeling a joy that hadn’t been there during any of her training sessions. She quickly caught up to Striker before they reached the first corner, overtaking her only to lose the lead on the sprint out of it. Grinding her teeth together, she pushed down the second straight. The process repeated itself. Striker was weaker than her in the straights, but better at the sprint and better at corners. Her cornering wasn’t anywhere near as good as good as Spirit’s, and her speed on the straights was even lower. Her opening sprint was good, but that wasn’t enough. Woodland caught her sooner and sooner on every straight, entering the corner next corner further and further ahead of her each time, the leads Striker gained afterward becoming smaller and smaller each time. By the first hairpin after the halfway point, she didn’t even lose the lead coming out of the corner.

  She made the most of it on the long straightaway, dipping into her stamina reserves to make sure she got as much of a lead as she could before the four hairpin turns. If her opponent was going to reverse the situation, it was there. She’d never get up to speed between them, and Striker’s strong sprinting would help her make up ground.

  She did her best, but as she exited the last corner, she could hear the sounds of the girl’s shoes right behind her, less than a length away. That was all she needed, though. The next two turns weren’t quite real one eighties, and she didn’t lose quite so much speed on them, only falling slightly behind after the second one. Two slow arching turns that didn’t need her to come to a complete stop played into her advantage, and then the rest of the course only had minor corners that she could take at speed.

  Woodland quickly regained her lead, putting her opponent behind her. She felt the smile on her lips as she ran down the last stretch, only to hear the sound of her opponent approaching, catching up with her.

  She should have been scared.

  She should have been worried.

  Instead, her smile grew wider, and she ran faster. The final spurt, the last mad dash to the goal. Natsume Striker wasn’t Crystal Spark, but she would have to do. Western Woodland increased her pace, staying ahead despite the best efforts of her opponent, crossing the finish line in first place. Coming to a stop, she thrust her hand into the air.

  The crowd yelled.

  It wasn’t the same as winning in front of hundreds of spectators, but it was enough. She smiled, and turned to her opponent.

  “It was a good race.”

  Panting heavily, Natsume striker nodded to her. “It was.” She said, before stiffly staggering away.

  There was a different feeling there. The girl ran like someone entirely different than how she looked. There was nothing frail or fragile about her when she ran, but as she walked away, Striker looked like she was about to collapse.

  Before she could think more, another horse girl approached her, holding a phone out.

  “Hello?” She said.

  “Westy?” Bongo’s voice came through. “Westy! You won! Great job! Quick, get to the four hairpins, and stay off the road. I’m about to send the other two down. You need to see them run.”

  “Got it.” Woodland said, before returning the phone to the horse girl who gave it to her. Who was that? She wasn’t sure. Who even officiated these races? If Bongo was in charge at the top, perhaps someone from Akagi was in charge at the bottom. Was that how it worked?

  She ran up the road, trying to get in position to watch. There was no shortage of spectators at the four hairpins, but it was a much smaller number than at the bottom. A few humans, but mostly horse girls.