Shibukawa. Her home. There were no racetracks in the entire prefecture, much less the city. She walked along the street, wearing plain clothes. She left her racing silks - along with all her other training equipment - back at her old dorm. She didn’t need any of that, not any more. She didn’t even want to run, not now. She walked, slowly, on the sidewalk, ignoring the special lane on the road. Every so often a horse girl would fly past, running faster than the cars. She didn’t look at them. She didn’t want to look.

  “Cut your hair, and you can have the job.”

  “W-why?”

  The store manager raised an eyebrow at her. “There was a horse girl that looks a lot like you that got into trouble recently. I don’t want my store to be associated with anyone like that, so you should do your best not to look like her.”

  She nodded, a hollow feeling in her chest. It was worse than what Tamura said. She hadn’t just destroyed her future, she had destroyed her past. All of her old races didn’t matter. Three days ago, she was Crystal Spark’s rival. Now she was so low that becoming a nobody was a step up.

  “Fine.” She moved a hand to her hair. Dark green, hanging down past her shoulders. Her left bangs were marked by a black streak. She’d have to do something with that, in addition to cutting it. To become someone new. Unrecognizable. Just so that she could get people to buy energy drinks from a grocery store.

  “You’re a fast runner?”

  “I am, and I drink three of these every day!” Woodland flipped the can up into the air before grabbing it as it fell. “One before training, one during my break, and one after. I’m done. Horse Girls need their energy, and the combination of caffeine, taurine, ginseng, and B vitamins give me everything I need. For active humans, one a day is just as effective as coffee, with less acidity!”

  The family of four she was talking to seemed impressed. The children - wearing sports jerseys - didn’t look like they needed any more energy, but their parents had specifically walked over to her display. She showed them the flavor options and explained the bulk discounts - as if humans didn’t know basic math - and the father placed two crates in their cart before they moved on with their shopping.

  Reciting the sales pitch her boss gave her was extremely effective, and he praised her once a week. Her hair was now barely past her ears, except for a shoulder-length tail she kept on the right side. She had wrapped the bangs on the left side of her head into a braid, hiding the black streak, and replaced the elaborate gold ribbon on her left ear with a simple red string tied in a bow. Her nametag just identified her as a sales associate, and nobody asked her for her name.

  She hated it.

  Her manager tossed her a can, which she caught easily. Unlike most of the products she was used to juggling around in front of customers, it was cold. “What’s this?”

  “It’s been two months, and you’ve done good work. Free drink.”

  She stared at it. It was the same brand she advertised. As much as she wanted to throw it back in his face, she just nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Take the rest of the day off.”

  That brought her ears up. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Wrong? No. We’re actually sold out. That’s the last one from the cooler. You did your job too well. The real reward is that I’m not making you haul things around. You’d be better than a forklift, but I’d have to register you for hazard pay. So get out of here. Come back tomorrow.”

  She walked faster than usual to the back, threw her apron aside, and left the store.

  Western Woodland did not run. Not anymore. She just walked, sipping the energy drink. In the distance, she could see mount Haruna towering over the city. A pretty sight, at least. Was this how horse girls who didn’t race lived? Work, walk, stare at the scenery?

  “Hey, daydreamer. I asked you a question.”

  She blinked, turning towards the sound. A horse girl - taller than her, with brown hair going all the way past her waist - stood beside her, looking down. “Sorry, I was distracted. What was the question?”

  “I asked what your name is.”

  She blinked. “Westy.” She said after a moment of hesitation.

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  “Eeeeeeh?” The larger girl dragged out the sound, tilting her head. “What kind of name is Westy?”

  “What’s your name, then?”

  “Bango Bongo.”

  She spat out her drink.

  “Don’t laugh! It’s better than Westy! Your name sounds fake!”

  “Your name sounds british.” Woodland shot back.

  “I’m a japanese horse girl, just like you! I’ve never left the country!”

  “Is your mother british?”

  “Is your mother fake?” Bongo asked, smiling.

  Smiling back, she couldn’t help but laugh. “She seemed real to me.”

  Bongo also laughed, and the two just stood together for a moment. The last time Woodland had a moment like this was before she came here, back with her old team.

  “Anyway, I recognized you so I wanted to talk to you.” Bongo said, breaking the moment. Woodland’s breath caught. Was this the end? Would she tell everyone about her past? Would she have to change her appearance again, to hide fr- “You’re the energy drink shill, aren’t you?”

  The tension left her immediately. “I’m not a shill if I’m open about it. I’m just marketing.”

  “Ok but like, do you actually drink three of those a day? Every time you take a sip of that one your face scrunches up. Looks like you hate it.”

  Woodland looked down at the can she was still holding. It was barely half-empty. “This is the first time I tried it. Not very good.”

  “So you drink zero cans before training, zero on your break, and zero after, then.”

  “I don’t train.” She said, dejectedly.

  “I guess you’re not a fast runner, then, either.”

  “Faster than you are, I’d bet.” She snapped, not even thinking.

  Bongo chuckled. “Oh yeah? Want to race?” Turning, she pointed down the road. “See that big tree? I can get there before you can.”

  The indicated tree was probably four hundred meters away. Even if she was six weeks out of shape, there was no way she’d lose to some countryside horse girl that had never been in a real race. She tossed her drink in a nearby garbage bin and went into a set of stretches. “Alright. What’s the stakes?”

  “If I win, you have to buy me two boxes of that energy drink.”

  The demand made her stop. “Wait, really?”

  “They aren’t as bad as you make them out to be. Acquired taste, though you wouldn’t put that in your sales pitch. Come on, name your stake.”

  “Be my friend.”

  Bongo laughed. “Sure. That’s easy enough. Let’s go.”

  “You don’t want to stretch?”

  “I’m already warmed up. When that street light goes green, we’ll start.”

  “Fine.”

  Bongo wasn’t entirely a pushover, but she wasn’t racetrack level. Not without proper training. Woodland held back at the start, matching her opponent’s pace, seeing how the other girl wanted to run. Bongo went all out from the start, sprinting forward, forcing Woodland to push to keep up. She kept pace for the first half of the distance, before surging forward, her feet slamming into the ground as she tore ahead, leaving the other horse girl behind. There was nobody there to tell her how many lengths she won by, but it was clear it wasn’t a close contest.

  “That is impressive.” A voice said as she leaned against the tree to catch her breath. Looking up, Woodland saw a red-haired horse girl sitting on the ground under the tree, looking up at her. “It seems you were right, Bongo.

  “Right about what?”

  “She said she thought you were something special. From that display, it looks like you are. Yet you just go home after your job every day. What’s with that?”

  “You some kind of stalkers?” Woodland asked, looking from the new girl to Bongo, who was panting by the side of the road.

  The girl stood up, shaking herself off. “I was curious, but you turned out to be boring. Bongo disagreed. Hey, Bongo. Come introduce me. She thinks I’m a stalker.”

  “Oh! Spirit! You’re here! Westy, this is Atlas Spirit. Spirit, this is Westy.”

  “Westy? Sounds like a fake name.”

  “That’s what I said!” Bongo laughed.

  “Stop making fun of me and tell me what you want.” Woodland spat. Bongo seemed sincere, but something about Spirit rubbed her the wrong way.

  “I’m looking for a training partner. Someone who can run fast. You just showed that you can. I’ve got a race to prepare for.”

  “Where? Fukushima? Niigata? Saitama?” Woodland asked, immediately regretting showing interest. Like her trainer said, getting involved would only ruin this girl’s dreams.

  Spirit just looked confused. “What? No, Haruna.” She said,

  Woodland blinked. “The mountain?” She pointed at it.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you mean, ‘yeah?’ That’s a mountain, not a racetrack.”

  “Bongo, she’s an idiot.”

  “You saw how fast she was, though!” The large horse girl responded. “She can help!”

  Spirit sighed. “There’s no racetrack in Gunma. We make do. Horse girls who want to race gather at the top of the mountain, and we race down to the bottom. Have to do it at night, to make sure no bystanders get hurt. Also it is slightly less than legal, since we aren’t following the speed limit. More reason to do it at night. You understand?”

  Woodland frowned, looking up at the mountain. “Your trainers let you do this? Even though it’s illegal? What about the racing association?”

  She heard Altas Spirit cough. “We don’t have trainers and we aren’t part of the association. We do it because we can. For the thrill. For the pride. There may be some amount of money involved, too, but that’s mostly for the humans. Look, you want to lie about energy drinks or do you want to help me race?”

  “I don’t want to help you race.” Woodland said, her eyes still on the mountain.

  “Then this was a waste of time. Let’s go, Bongo.”

  “I want to be part of the race. And Bongo has to pay me what she owes.”