“…and that’s about it.” Normcore stands, her ears softly twitching against the afternoon sun. Her gaze slightly shifts to one side as she kicks back into gear. “It wasn’t particularly fun, but she was right.”

  “You shouldn’t say that, Norm.” Masaru lets out a resigned sigh. “Even still, it’s pretty irresponsible to binge eat right after.”

  “Shut up. You’re not my mom.”

  Normcore jumps twice and hops on her toes, tossing Masaru a stopwatch. “Time me for the 1900 meter. I need to know what my projected finish is.”

  “Okay.” She stares as Norm takes off onto the track. She immediately realizes something is wrong as the first steps are taken- Norm’s movement was a lot more sluggish than usual.

  The form was correct. The speed was still there. Even so, she was half a step behind in every step as if bogged down in water, even when compared to her first attempt on a dirt track.

  “Don’t… Don’t tell me the time. I know it’s bad.”

  She comes back huffing.

  “I’ll say you’ve got a stabilized performance then. With a lack of upward or downward trends.” Masaru stares at the stopwatch, trying her hardest not to giggle. Norm throws her a dagger of a glare while catching her breath on her knees.

  “No, but seriously, what’s wrong?” She finally composes herself. “You look slower.”

  “I dunno.” Norm straightens herself. “I felt it this morning too and I thought it was just not being awake then. Looking back now, I just feel sluggish like I can’t pick up speed f-for some reason..”

  “ ‘For some reason?’ Norm, the stakes are in a week. You’re gonna flunk like this.”

  Masaru’s gaze rises to meet Norm’s, her eyebrow raised. Norm’s blue eyes conveniently dart away into the distance, cold sweat covering her head as she lets out a forced chuckle.

  “Really now?” Masaru taps her feet impatiently on the floor, her arms folded in a I-told-you-so manner. “So you’ve suddenly become tone-deaf to the condition of your body like a reverse Christmas miracle?”

  “L-Listen, maybe it’ll wear off tomorrow, okay? Just bear with me today, Saru-”

  She begins to turn sheepishly back to the track, perhaps in a desperate attempt to escape the fact of reality. Masaru yanks her back by the collar with a resigned sigh, dragging her struggling body to the Infirmary.

  First came the examination, then the evaluation. She sits on the bed in the doctor’s office, unmoving, staring at the wall clock as the fluorescent lights flicker overhead.

  The sound of footsteps on linoleum was the approach of an answer she already knew. It wasn’t a difficult diagnosis to make even had she not stepped on the scale, though the sigh of the doctor that comes afterwards would be telling enough even for the most ignorant of individuals.

  “Normcore?”

  The door swings open with a creak. The doctor closes the door behind him with a clipboard in hand.

  “You’re overweight.”

  She was expecting the news. It was obvious. Even so, the result spears through her chest like an arrow, pinning her back fully against the wall.

  He didn’t even try to sugarcoat it.

  “Let’s see. You’ve got a race scheduled next week, so we’ll stick to a low carb diet for now. Make sure you get exercise as much as possible, and here’s a list of things you can and cannot eat.”

  He shoves a standardized dieting paper into her lap.

  “That means no rice, no potatoes, no fried foods, no sugar, and no bread.” The doctor taps her on the head. “Your energy will mainly come from protein and vegetables. I will forward this to the cafeteria staff to let them know your new dietary restrictions for the time being…”

  Normcore stares at the list with a deadpan expression. She had expected something of the sort, of course, but being on the end of a diet was not going to be fun. With a sigh she stashes the paper and hops off the bed, but the doctor holds out a hand to stop her.

  “Hold on. We’re not quite done here.”

  “Huh?” She sits back down as the doctor flips through his notes.

  “Your weight gain is a symptom, not a disease. For your peers, that usually stems from overindulging in dietary intake, but that’s not likely to be the case here.” The doctor slowly reaches over and lifts one of Norm’s pinned-back ears, causing her to flinch. “From what I’ve seen, you’re exhibiting signs of chronic stress, which is affecting your digestion. That, in conjunction with the excess caloric intake you’ve reported, is the root of the issue here. Patching up the symptoms won't matter if we don’t treat the disease, so it’s best we nip it in the bud.”

  He gestures for her to lie down.

  “I’m prescribing you a mandatory nap.”

  “Mandatory nap?”

  “Your body needs the extra rest. A nurse will wake you up in case you oversleep, and I’d like for you to check in with me tomorrow. If the issue persists, we’ll have to try again or look for a different solution.”

  The doctor reaches over to the blinds, pulling them down. He pours out a cup of clear solution and sets them by the table, then walks over to the door and turns off the lights.

  “Rest. If you have trouble sleeping, that should help.”

  Her eyes remain open even as the doctor’s footsteps fade. The silence is uncomfortably long, the darkness bearing down upon her rapidly beating heart, almost suffocating her. She tosses and turns on the bed, the leather beneath her becoming unbearably warm.

  Normcore closes her eyes, trying to nestle her hands beneath her head. She tries desperately to fall asleep- twisting, turning, contorting her body sideways on the examination table, taking off her track suit and throwing it over herself like a blanket.

  There was too much on her mind.

  She lets out a deep sigh and sits upright. She lifts the cup of liquid, staring at it as before bringing it to her lips. For a second, she contemplates skimping on the sleep and going right back to training- Getting less exercise sounded counterintuitive when it came to losing weight.

  Then again, she wasn’t the medical professional here. The last time she skimped on medical instructions, she got chased across the schoolyard by Katsura.

  Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

  The liquid was slightly sweet and slightly sticky, crawling down her throat like slime. She gags and coughs at the taste, waiting for the effects to take hold. Nothing. Her body was still tensed up like a coiled spring, her heart was pounding even louder now-

  The sensation hits her like a truck. She practically keels over onto the bed as if someone had pulled a bag over her head. The world turns fuzzy, her vision begins to swim, her body turning into mush and melting into the leather. The darkness envelops her with open arms, and she’s out like a light.

  “Yo. Kaibara. Pay attention.”

  First came the heat—a warm weight on the face. Then the light—searing the inside of the eyelids a brilliant, bloody orange until they were forced to blink. The world resolves itself in layers: the scent of freshly cut turf, the endless green of the track, the bleachers standing silent and skeletal against a sky so blue it hurts to look at.

  Tokyo. Fukushima racecourse.

  “Huh?”

  Norm- no, Kaibara- turns his head slowly to the side, met by the energetic smile of a young man whose face he could barely remember. The visage was fuzzy, distorted, a memory from a past he thought he had long since put behind him.

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  Even so, the bandage upon a broken nose contrasted sharply against the blur. It was the anchor of memory that refused to collapse on a beach full of sand castles.

  “Takeshi?” The name slips from his lips. The back of his mind stirred with countless memories, but before he could process any of them-

  “You gotta stop spacing out, man.” He jerks Kaibara into an embrace almost violently, pointing straight into a pack of umamusume lining up in the distance. “This year's newcomers are promising as hell, Kai! What’s more important than the future of your career, huh? Didn’t you say you were gonna give Japan the next Rudolf?”

  “Shut up-” He tries to struggle free, but the grip is unrelenting. “Let me go already!”

  “Look! Look there!” Takeshi grins ear to ear as he practically pulls Kaibara’s head into his shoulder. “That one! With the almond hair and blue eyes!”

  “Huh? What about her?” Kaibara squints softly. The girl doesn’t quite catch his eye, for nothing stood out to him in the moment. Amongst the pack of girls jumping, energetic, and rearing to go, she was practically a backdrop.

  “Get better eyes, man! I’m telling you, that girl’s superstar material. I’m snatching her up the first chance I get.”

  “Dumb choice. I’m picking Wagnerian.” Kaibara replies, his eyes fixated on a bay-haired umamusume lingering at the back of the pack, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Where the others were practically bolting into the gate, she seemed almost… lost in thought. “She’s got the makings of a good Stayer. I can see it.”

  “Tch. Tch. Tch. You’ve got no innovation, man! Where’s that fire? Where’s that drive? Where’s the spectacle? You gotta catch the people’s eyes with a sensational run!”

  Click. Click. Cameras flash from below as each runner poses for the news, and then the officials funnel the group into the gate.

  “Tch. Look, it’s all wishful thinking. If you think the big sharks are gonna let us snatch even a scrap off that bunch, you’re delusional.” Kaibara gestures above them, where several other men in suits watched like hawks. “We’ll be lucky if we can snatch fourth or fifth place. Tops.”

  “Nah, nah. Trust. I already talked to the girl before we started.” Takeshi grins even wilder, folding his arms as he leans back in his seat. “We hit it off pretty good, and my mind’s set anyway. The race is practically a formality.”

  “You picked your trainee before the race even started? The hell?” Kaibara practically tosses himself out of his seat, his mouth agape with shock. “Dude, what are you-?”

  A sharp electronic bleat cuts through the stadium chatter. The starting gates fly open with a violent clatter, A wave of color and motion exploding onto the track. Kaibara’s eyes, against his will, flicked down to the almond-haired girl- Takeshi’s pick. She was buried in the middle of the pack, unremarkable, just another blur in the frantic opening rush. Even so, his friend’s eyes were firmly fixated upon her, as if she was a jewel more precious than any other in the world.

  “I see a spark in her, Kaibara. The spark. It’s one of those things you just know. Even if she finishes dead last, I’ll forge her into a champion by my bare hands.”

  “You’re insane.” Kaibara shakes his head with a sigh. “We just got our license. The first trainee for a junior trainer is always the most important. If you mess this up-”

  “Worry about yourself before you worry about others, Kaibara!” Takeshi slaps him hard on the back, choking him out of his words. “And don’t worry. In five years, every person across the land of Japan shall know the name, the majestic, the unassailable, the untouchable…”

  His fingers point towards the sky defiantly.

  “...Almond Eye!”

  The world swims. The darkness is interrupted by the yellow glow of a light being turned on. Normcore’s eyes snap open, still swimming, still groggy. She sits up, shoulder against the wall, her head throbbing like crazy.

  “Here.” The nurse hands her a cup of water. She downs it without hesitation, the coolness a polar opposite to the feverish heat of memory clinging to her. Her eyes flutter, still trying to close in on themselves and go back to sleep.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Fine.” She groans and hangs her head, hopping off the table and almost running into the opposite wall. She staggers for a few steps, throwing on her tracksuit hastily and grabbing the diet sheet, waving off the nurse’s concerned looks.

  The memory didn't help in the slightest. It was a poison pill, candy-wrapped in the nostalgia of a sun-drenched track. It didn't offer clarity, it just made the static fill her head to a point where she wanted to cry.

  For years, Kaibara had buried it, dismissing Takeshi's success as a fluke, a lucky strike in a sea of mediocrity. He had told himself that hard work and a sharp eye were the true currencies of success. But now, living in the skin of the unremarkable, the truth felt more like a shard of glass slowly cutting through her gut.

  It wasn't just envy. It was past even hatred. It was a profound, soul-sickening sense of being wronged. He had played the game by the rules, and the universe had rewarded the gambler who went all in on a whim.

  Thunk. Normcore slams her palm against the infirmary walls, clutching her throbbing forehead with her hair dangling uselessly by her face.

  What was all of it for?

  What was the point of it all?

  Why work harder when all someone needs to win big is… luck?

  The loose thread of logic flays and twists at the ends, threatening to unravel her sanity if she tugged on for a second longer. She stumbles out of the infirmary and into the cafeteria, her mind a thousand miles away, still on that sun-drenched track in Tokyo.

  She doesn’t see the figure until it’s too late.

  “Oi!” The voice was a trademark bark, a sound that could shatter glass and had, on more than one occasion, shattered her confidence. “Watch where you’re going, you-”

  The two meet in their gaze.

  Normcore didn’t know what expression was on her face. She hadn't had time to compose herself, to put up the defiant mask she always had on. She wasn’t even sure if she had properly hidden the deadpan thousand yard stare in her eyes.

  Katsura’s lip, which had been curled in a snarl, twitches. Then, like a wolf deciding the animal before her wasn’t worthy of being a threat, she turns with a contempting “tch” and goes back to chatting with her friends.

  She gathers her food. She sets the tray down with a sigh. She leans her head against the table, groaning and wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

  “You feeling better?”

  Masaru’s concerned voice rings out behind her. Norm wordlessly shuffles to the side, setting her head on her elbow instead.

  “Sleeply.” She croaks back, a half truth wrapped up in crimson stained cloth on a still bleeding wound. Then, to give her an excuse to stop talking, she picks up a piece of broccoli with chopsticks and forces it into her mouth, ignoring the bland and tasteless mush between her teeth.

  “Well… That’s good. It means you got rest.”

  The cheerful tone bounces right off her. Norm doesn’t respond, shovelling down protein and vegetables that made her feel hungrier the more she ate. Masaru, not willing to press further, diverts her attention to her phone instead.

  For a second, all was normal. Norm’s mind, occupied fully by the blandness of chicken and the labor of chewing, completely short-circuits all thought for a blissful moment. She basks in the peacefulness, staring wistfully into the distance, savoring every bite until the sound playing from Masaru’s video snaps her back to reality.

  “...and coming down the center is Almond Eye! Breaking through the center, she overtakes Lily Noble in the final stretch! It’s the favorite, Almond Eye, and it looks like she’s going back to back for the Yushun Himba!"

  Her ears snap upright in an instant. Her head turns instinctively, her hair catching Masaru’s head and causing her to flinch.

  “Gah! Norm?”

  “Wha, uh-” Something emotional catches in her throat, but she forces it back down with a swallow. Her voice drops to a mutter, hoarse and strained. “The Yushun Himba?”

  “Y-Yeah. What’s wrong..?”

  “Almond Eye.” She stabs into the chicken, mashing it into strings with aggression before scooping it up with rice and shoving it down her mouth. “...Lucky. Wish I could be like her. She’s on track to win the Triple Tiara and I’m stuck here eating low-carb slop.”

  “Don’t be like that, Norm. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “I’m nothing compared to her.” Norm shakes her head with a resigned sigh. “The world just isn’t fair. It is what it is.”

  Clank. Masaru slaps the fork clean out of her grip. The metal clatters loudly on the tray, startling the students around them. Normcore freezes, bewildered, but the look on Masaru’s face isn't just stern—it’s furious.

  "Stop it," Masaru says, her voice low and shaking. "Just stop."

  "Stop what?" Normcore mutters, trying to reclaim her fork. "Eating?"

  "Stop talking about yourself like you're nothing!" Masaru’s hand slams down on the table, making the trays jump. "What is wrong with you? Listen, Norm. Don’t let anyone tell you what you’re not. Not Kentaro, not Katsura- you’re the best damn runner I’ve ever met. You’re the best runner the world’s going to see.”

  “M-Masaru!” Norm stammers, flustered. “That’s- that’s not-”

  “It’s true! It is! You taught me how to dream! You taught me how to find myself! Are you going to give up on that? Are you going to give up on us?!”

  “I-I…”

  Norm opens her mouth, but no words come out. The table around them is now silent, dozens of eyes now watching. Her ears droop slightly as she averts the gaze.

  Truth be told, she didn’t know how to respond.

  “...I’m sorry.”

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The rain in Tokyo was a fine, persistent mist, beading on the shoulders of his black coat and dripping from the brim of his hat. Takeshi Nakamura stands before a headstone, the city's distant hum a dull echo in the hallowed silence that filled the air.

  “We made a promise to each other.”

  He places the bouquet of lilies against the cold granite, petals still trickling with fresh rain. The inscription was half truth, half lie, dressed up to look prettier than the reality that enshrouded it.

  Kaibara Akihiko. A Mentor. A Visionary.

  “You were supposed to catch up.”

  A ghost of a smile touches his lips, vanishing as quickly as it came. Kaibara was the pragmatist- not him. He was the one with his head in the clouds.

  “One hell of a disappearing act you pulled there, buddy. Coulda fooled me.”

  The humor stung more than the truth, the silence his only answer. The greatest rivalry of his life had ended- not with a bang, but with an emptiness that hurt more than a knife to the back.

  “Look, wherever you are, Kai… I just hope you’re happy.”

  He turns, adjusting his tie, attempting to compose himself despite the grief. In response, a figure steps out from under a nearby tree holding an umbrella.

  “Let’s go, Eye.”

  The sound of footsteps echo in the air, fading away until all that remains is the ruffled grass in their wake.

  The headstone, slightly slanted, does not speak back.

  Energy recovered by 20.