Staring up at the large but worn-down house, Western Woodland double-checked her phone. While she didn’t have a proper idea of what kind of house Atlas Spirit lived in when she received the invitation, this wasn’t entirely surprising.

  Barely a second passed before the door opened after her knock, a young human child looking up at her, eyes wide.

  “Sis! Your friend is here!” He yelled before running away, leaving the door open. His exit was followed by the sound of footsteps, and Spirit appeared, followed by two other human children.

  “Westy. Hi. Glad you could make it.” She raised an eyebrow, only to be met with Spirit waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, please. Come in.”

  “Sis?” Woodland asked as she stepped inside, following Spirit- and the two children that wordlessly followed her, staring back at Woodland - into the house.

  “Their grandmother was my mother’s trainer. I live here and they treat me like their sister. Hey, you two, get lost. Horse girl time.”

  “Awwww.” One of the two children said, before both scurried off. Spirit opened the door they stopped in front of, revealing a cramped room with a desk, a small television, two full bookshelves, and a bed where Bongo sat, waving at the two of them.

  “There she is! Our hero!” She hopped to her feet, rushing over to Woodland. “You vanished after the race, we didn’t even get to talk to you!”

  Averting her gaze, Western Woodland shrugged. “I had to get home.” The truth was that people had started taking pictures of her.

  “Well, anyway. Here.” The tall, brown-haired horse girl handed her an envelope. Woodland accepted it, looking inside and seeing a stack of bills.

  “What’s this?” She asked, looking at her two friends.

  Spirit laughed. “What, do they not have money in Fukushima? This is your part of our winnings. A big part, since you won both races.”

  “There has to be fifteen thousand in here. Where did it come from?”

  “Lots more than that changed hands last night, with the betting. We take a small cut. No admission fee, as you noted, but we do get a little something.”

  Slowly, Woodland closed the envelope and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. “Th-thanks.”

  “If we put on good shows, we’ll get more. The more people that show up, the more people that bet. Bongo, show her.”

  The other horse girl took out her phone. “People are talking about last night! Minus on Hit is well liked, so her losing to an unknown is big news for something like this. Check this out!”

  Woodland leaned in, looking at the device in her friend’s hand. It was a shaky phone recording, from the top of the four hairpins. She watched as she and Hit rushed into view and made their way down, her opponent’s frustrated yelling cutting over the cheers of the crowd. It was hard to make out exact details of either racer - the bad lighting, the angle, and the speed they were moving made it too hard to tell who the runners were, though Minus On Hit’s silver hair and oversized purple ribbon stood out.

  “You’re racking up the views and comments!”

  It was different. Her trainer used to take care of media, leaving her to focus on racing. There had been a few interviews, but she was never exposed to the reactions from those. Woodland smiled. “When’s the next race, then?”

  “That’s the other thing!” Bongo said excitedly, tapping something into her phone. “Look, look! Multiple other teams are talking! Myogi and Irohazaka both want to race us. Flowing Magica even said ‘Haruna’s new girl must be strong. I need to show her I’m stronger!’”

  “Who’s Flowing Magica?”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Spirit let out a deep breath. “That’s Irohazaka’s weirdo. She’s insane. Dangerous, even. She runs like she has a death wish. Most teams refuse to run against her.”

  Refusing to race someone was a foreign concept to Woodland. “Did the Akagi team race them?” She asked.

  “Not yet.” Bongo responded. “They had a schedule up, and it was us, then Myogi, then Irohazaka. Next weekend they’ll be at Myogi, if you want to go and watch. Remember, no admission fee.”

  “I don’t know.” She wanted to run, to race. Going to watch others wasn’t appealing the same way. “I want to practice more. I’m not satisfied with how I won.”

  Spirit laughed. “You don’t see that kind of thing much. If she ran into you, you’d both be in the hospital. Not as crazy as what Magica does, but close.”

  Shrugging, Woodland smiled. “Where I come from, sometimes you have to block people. I saw how she stopped, and knew it would be easy to throw her off. I used her strength against her.”

  “And Striker? What did you realize about her?” Spirit tilted her ears forward, concentrating intently on Woodland. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bongo smiling.

  “When I was racing against her?” Woodland shook her head. “Nothing. I was just faster. She’s better at turning, and faster starting out, but not enough to make up the difference in raw speed. Her last spurt scared me. Lots of guts on that one.” Taking a breath, she continued. “It was only when I was lining up with Hit that I realized what was odd about Striker, and it seems she realized the same thing. We’re both circuit racers. That was my big revelation. The race was close because we were running the same way. Wasn’t that way against Hit.”

  Atlas Spirit was smiling. “And during our training sessions, you weren’t trying to beat me, just outrun me. So you figured it was the same with those two - Hit wasn’t prepared to deal with those strategies because Striker never used them against her.”

  “Well, they might have, but Striker’s strengths are better suited for the mountain tracks. Probably races shorter distances. I need to challenge Hit in different spots. Striker would probably try to match her cornering, and then beat her in the sprint after, since that’s where she’s strong. I had to beat her on the straight and then block her in the corner. No way she’d seen that from Striker.”

  Something slammed into Woodland’s back. Bongo laughed, wrapping her arms around her. “You’re so smart, Westy! I’m so glad I found you.”

  “Yeah, I get it, you two are friends. She’s got her money, so she can get out of here.” Spirit rolled her eyes. “If you didn’t already figure it out, we’re taking tonight off. Tomorrow, it’s back to practice. I’ll let you lead, and have Bongo actually time us. You’re more than good enough for that now.”

  At work the next day, Bongo showed up, holding a twelve pack of energy drinks. “Hey. I wanted to talk to you about something. Come out when your break starts, okay?”

  Woodland couldn’t help but be infected by the larger horse girl’s smile. “S-sure.” She replied. What could her friend want in the middle of the day?

  They met outside the store, Woodland walking over and sitting down on the bench next to Bongo. “So, what is it?”

  Her friend’s smile evaporated. “I, uh, I did something I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

  “Bongo, whatever you did, it can’t be that bad.”

  “W-well, last night, um…” She fiddled with her phone, turning the device over in her hand. “Spirit mentioned you used to race in Fukushima. So I uh, I looked up some things. I’m sorry.” She unlocked the phone and showed the screen to Woodland.

  Her own face stared back at her. Her old face, framed by long green hair, a black streak on the left side. The large golden ribbon on her ear. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t say anything.

  “I know you didn’t want us to know, and I should have respected that, but I was curious. I’m sorry.”

  Woodland shot to her feet, trembling. “I’m not like that.” She blurted out. The words came quickly as she panicked. “I’m not violent. I’d never hurt you. I was angry at what she did, but I’d never do that again. It was a mistake, just a-“

  “What are you talking about?” Bongo was looking up at her, confusion on her face.

  Blinking, Woodland’s brain slowed down. “You…you found out why I was disqualified from the circuit, right?”

  Bongo tapped her phone a few times, bringing up an article. “This was last week.”

  ‘Investigation ends in disqualification of Thundering Silence and Frost Breeze’ was the headline. Woodland swallowed. “Last week?”

  “I saw the video of you hitting her. And the video of what she did to you and that other girl. She had it coming. I’d have hit her as well, if it was me.”

  It felt like her body had turned to liquid. She fell, heavily, back onto the bench, laughing. “I thought you’d hate me.”

  “You’re my friend. IF you want to be Western Woodland or just Westy, it’s up to you. I’m not going to tell anyone. It can be your secret, though it’s not exactly perfect. Rare for horse girls to cut their hair, but the green stands out.”

  “I’m not a spy.” She let out a weak laugh.

  Bongo put an arm over her shoulders. “You aren’t a spy, you’re a racer. A really good one. I’m even more glad I found you. Wouldn’t want to let you waste away selling energy drinks. Even if I like them.”