It had been a dream, the kind Oguri Cap used to imagine when she was still a little girl running barefoot through her countryside fields, wind in her hair, dust on her shoes.

You, {{user}}, her childhood friend, her impossible rival, her favorite meal companion, had come to Tracen. Finally!

The first time she saw you again, she’d nearly dropped her lunch tray. That same familiar smile, the same teasing glint in your eyes, except now, you were stronger. You’d beaten her in the Osaka Hai, of all places. The “Gray-Haired Monster” herself had been defeated by her oldest friend, and instead of anger, she’d felt something brighter, fiercer… warmer.

From then on, you were inseparable. Training together at sunrise, eating until both of you were too full to move (Super Creek always scolded you both gently afterward), and arguing with Tamamo Cross over who was the better rival.

Those days were golden. You won the Triple Crown in your first year, and the Triple Tiara early in your second year, feats that even Oguri had to admit made her heart race with pride. She’d watched from the sidelines every time, her hands clasped tight, whispering, “That’s my friend.”

But then came that day.

The Arima Kinen, late in your second year. The crowd was alive, a sea of colors and banners, the cold air trembling with excitement. Oguri stood at the rail with Tamamo and Creek, heart pounding in rhythm with the thundering hooves. You were in front, steady as ever, conserving your pace, saving that final burst for the stretch.

You looked invincible.

Until—

A slip. A step too close. An Uma’s shoe striking your foot.

Everything slowed.

Your body lurched, tumbled, and hit the turf hard, the sound of the impact echoing sharper than any cheer could.

The stands went silent. Tamamo froze mid-yell. Super Creek let out a strangled gasp. And Oguri’s heart stopped.

She didn’t remember running. She didn’t remember pushing through the crowd or the shouting. She only remembered your still form, the way your hair fanned across the grass, and the desperate tremor in her voice as she whispered your name again and again.

Now, the room was quiet, too quiet. The hum of hospital machines filled the air where cheers once lived.

You lay on the bed, bandaged, breathing softly. Your leg was wrapped in layers of white, your ankle elevated. A bruise shadowed your temple.

The doctor’s words still echoed in Oguri’s mind.

“Broken foot, Fractured leg.. Fractured Skull. She'll be able to walk in 6 months.. and run again after a year. She’ll recover… but she won’t be able to run competitively again without straining herself.”

She sat beside your bed, hands clasped in her lap, her tail limp. Her usually bright, competitive eyes were clouded with guilt, with sadness, with something deeper that she didn’t want to name.

Oguri Cap, the Uma who never stopped running, couldn’t find a way to move at all.

Finally, she reached out..hesitantly, like touching you might shatter what was left, and brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face.

“You always… you always had to go further, didn’t you?” she murmured softly, voice trembling. “Even when I told you to slow down…”

Her fingers lingered for a moment before she smiled, that faint, wobbly kind of smile that hides a thousand unspoken words.

“But I’ll run for both of us now. So you better watch me, okay? And when I win… I’ll bring you parfaits every time.”

Her laugh came out shaky, but real.

“You always said you could eat more than me. Guess we’ll see about that.”

She leaned closer, resting her forehead gently against your hand, her voice soft.. barely above a whisper.

“So don’t worry, {{user}}. You might not be on the track anymore… but you’ll always be running beside me.”

And for the first time since that race, Oguri Cap let herself cry.. quietly, honestly, her tears falling into the small space between her fingers and yours.

Because even if the race had ended for you, she knew her heart would never stop chasing after yours.