Chapter 5: A Horse Charges (Literally)

When asked where I wanted to go, I didn’t have an answer ready to spring to mind.

Most people might say some popular theme park, or a trendy shop, or a newly opened café. But I was completely out of touch with what was in style—and more than anything, I hated crowds.

“Anywhere’s fine. Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“If I said home, would that still be a no?”

“Yes. Definitely no.”

It was a day in January.

Roku Kagomuro—Selina—showed up at my apartment uninvited.

She said it was to thank me for taking care of her when she was sick and to apologize for the trouble she’d caused. I told her she didn’t have to come all the way to my place, but she replied she was afraid I’d run if she didn’t. I had to admit—she read me well.

“Is there really nowhere? Even a place you go by yourself is okay.”

“But that’d be boring for you, Selina.”

“It’s fine! What matters is where you want to go, Saki.”

She sounded so earnest, practically snorting with conviction—but considering she wasn’t letting me stay in the one place I actually wanted to be (home), the whole speech didn’t carry much weight.

It was the first time I’d seen Selina since that day we parted. Still, after those intense few days, we’d grown close enough to call each other by name and exchange light banter.

“There is one place I go to a lot, but…”

“Let’s go! I’ll call a taxi!”

“No need. We can just take the train.”

I was already more or less dressed, so we headed out of my apartment without much delay.

The sky was clear again that day.

There was barely any wind, and the sunlight felt warm—almost like spring.

We walked side by side toward the nearest station.

The sharp click of Selina’s heels echoed around us, drowning out the quiet shuffle of my flat shoes.

I glanced at her.

She wore short boots with a flared skirt, topped with a long coat.

Each piece was nothing special—likely mass-produced, the kind you could find in any store. And yet, on her, it all looked effortlessly stylish.

I glanced down at myself and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Old jeans, a sweatshirt, a worn-out bomber jacket. My shoes were scuffed and dirty from daily use. I always dressed like this when I went to that place, so I never really gave it much thought.

“Sorry.”

The contrast between us was so stark, I apologized on reflex.

Selina tilted her head, eyes blinking in confusion.

“I should’ve worn something more… Put together.”

“Eh? But you look cute!”

“Let’s not do this.”

She fell into a thoughtful silence, her brow furrowed. Then, with a decisive nod—

“Let’s go shopping next time!”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because I want to buy you clothes, Saki!”

“Got money?”

“I’ll earn some. Or borrow it.”

“Don’t borrow. And don’t worry about clothes—it's not like I’m going anywhere lately.”

“Aww, too bad. So what do you do at home?”

“… Studying, I guess. Hoping it’ll help with a career change.”

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

It wasn’t.

I was just an unemployed woman studying to pass the time.

Unlike work, studying was something I could do alone. The effort I put in translated directly to results. I’d always liked it well enough for that reason—but it wasn’t something worth being looked at with sparkling admiration.

We passed through the ticket gates, boarded a train, made a transfer, then got off.

The moment we stepped outside the station, a giant sign loomed into view.

Selina stared up at it in surprise.

“A racecourse…?”

“I don’t really gamble, though.”

We crossed the elevated walkway, paid the entrance fee, and walked onto the grounds.

Selina paid for both of us. Just 400 yen in total.

“Let’s head to the paddock first. That’s where the horses walk in circles before the race.”

“O-okay.”

She jogged a little to catch up, then gently linked her arm through mine.

Her wide eyes scanned the area with obvious curiosity. It didn’t seem like she had any particular reason for holding onto me—she just didn’t know what to do with herself.

Maybe she was nervous.

Some people imagine racecourses as rough places. Sure, there were a few shady-looking folks around. But that’s true of anywhere—not like this place was especially dangerous.

I didn’t shake her off. Instead, we walked slowly toward the paddock.

Even from a distance, the place was packed with people.

We managed to find an empty bit of railing and leaned against it, silently watching the horses.

Some trotted proudly with heads held high and tails swishing; others drifted off track, clearly in a mood about something.

“… They’re so free,”
Selina muttered.

Right in front of us, one horse dropped a hefty pile of dung without a care.

It kept walking, face blank as ever. Watching it somehow calmed me.

“Very horse-like, huh.”

“Do they feel no shame?”

“I doubt it. You don’t seem like you’ve got a lot of shame either.”

“I do so have shame! How many times do I have to say the other day was the biggest mistake of my life?!”

The way she puffed up in indignation made me laugh out loud.

“Guess we won’t be running out of conversation material anytime soon.”

“Please… Just give me a little more time to get over it…”

The way her shoulders slumped showed she was genuinely remorseful.

Selina had mentioned before that she wasn’t in great health—often missing school due to colds and such.

Looking at the whole situation, it was a mix of bad luck and poor preparation. She didn’t understand her limits, and she made the mistake of drinking alcohol on top of that. But saying so outright would be too harsh, so I kept my mouth shut.

We left the paddock, bought random tickets for 100 yen, and took seats in the stands.

The bright green turf and soft brown track stretched before us, with the occasional chill breeze brushing past.

Selina, full of first-time excitement, kept switching her gaze between the names on her betting slip and the giant monitor overhead.

It was a peaceful day.

We squinted into the sun, watching the horses’ shiny coats as they walked with quiet power.

After a while, the horses began to gather, one by one entering the starting gates.

Once they were all in place—_clang_—the gates flew open, and they bolted.

The sound of hooves thundered through the stadium. Sand exploded into the air, forming a curtain.

The horses ran like their lives depended on it. Their faces were fierce, every single one.

And in a way, they were running for their lives.

Horses that don’t win—too slow, or injured—are often put down.

They weren’t running from predators; they were running from human society. That thought hit me harder than I expected.

Do they dream of running free?

Sure, there are dangers in the wild too. No place is truly free from risk. But even that kind of uncertainty is part of what freedom means.

What would be better for a horse?

Even if they could speak, I’m sure some would still choose the care of humans.

Lost in thought, I was startled by a loud cheer in the distance.

Selina sat beside me, chin in hand, clearly disappointed.

The race had ended.

The horse we bet on lost. Some dark horse had taken the win.

Where should I be going?

Unlike that race, there was no finish line set for me.

It wasn’t as simple as running with all my might. Being told to live freely didn’t mean I _could_. Even when I thought I’d finally arrived somewhere, there were always endless roads stretching out ahead.

And there I stood, motionless in the middle, unable to take a step.

What was I missing?

Which path should I take?

“Saki, let’s go again. That was frustrating.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When I stood, Selina instinctively linked her arm with mine again, and we followed the path back toward the paddock, blending into the crowd.

“… What if I said I wanted to go to a pachinko parlor after this?”

“I’d come with you. Just please, pick a place with a no-smoking section.”

“Hah, figures.”

We went back to the paddock, got excited over a white horse, bought its ticket—and lost, obviously.

Just like that, the day passed quietly.

It was one of those clear, crisp winter days.