**Chapter 20: Aru-chan's Follow-up Visit**
The morning after the race, Kitano stirred earlier than usual. It wasn't bitterness over the loss that roused him, nor any lingering gloom. A house call awaited him, simple as that, pulling him from the warmth of his bed into the cool dawn.
Grandma Takamura's ranch sat a little closer to Urakawa, just past the familiar stretch of Nishiken. Kitano's pickup truck rumbled over the bridge, where fields of lush green unfurled on either side, kissed by the soft July light. As he neared an intersection, he eased off the gas, his eyes catching a small figure beneath the red torii gate of Mino Shrine.
"Grandma Takamura?" he called through the open window, squinting slightly.
"Oh! Mr. Kitano!" The old woman's voice carried a mix of surprise and warmth. She stepped lightly over the roadside ditch, one hand covering her mouth as if to hide a sheepish smile. "I'm so sorry, I thought you'd come later."
"No trouble at all. Hop in." Kitano unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to push open the passenger door. Grandma Takamura, spry despite her years, climbed into the high seat of the truck with ease, settling in with a soft huff.
"Were you praying for Aru-chan?" Kitano asked as he pulled back onto the road, the red torii shrinking in the rearview mirror.
Grandma Takamura chuckled, a touch embarrassed. "Well, yes, though I know Yagokoro Omoikane no Mikoto isn't exactly in charge of such things. You caught me looking foolish."
Kitano smiled. Mino Shrine, dedicated to the deity of wisdom and learning, wasn't exactly a hotspot for prayers about sick horses. "Not foolish at all. And don't sell yourself short—Shimura-san and I just did our jobs."
Shimura-san, the seasoned farrier, had been a steady presence at Nishiken, his skilled hands crucial in tending to Aru-chan's hoof. Kitano had only met him a handful of times, but the man's quiet expertise left an impression.
The ranch came into view, its familiar sprawl bathed in morning light. Grandma Takamura led the way to the stable, her steps quick but careful. In the last stall, a thick layer of bedding cushioned the floor, and Aru-chan, the Kurige horse, lay on her side. At the sound of their approach, she rose slowly, her dark eyes dull but curious as she regarded her visitors.
"I'm counting on you," Grandma Takamura said, bowing deeply. She stepped back, her hands clasped, watching with a nervous intensity that made Kitano's chest tighten.
He knelt beside Aru-chan, setting his bag down with a soft thud. The horse stood in the telltale stance of laminitis—front legs stretched forward, hind legs tucked beneath her belly, as if trying to ease the weight on her hooves. Kitano's fingers brushed over her front hooves, checking for heat. The warmth was faint now, the digital pulse barely noticeable. He exhaled, tension loosening in his shoulders.
"She's likely moved into the subacute phase," he said, glancing back at Grandma Takamura. Her eyes widened with cautious hope. "That means the worst is probably behind us. The tissues in her hoof are starting to heal."
He explained how, after 48 hours, a quieter pulse often signaled recovery—a shift from the acute danger to a gentler, healing stage. But he wasn't ready to celebrate yet. "To be sure, we should get an X-ray at Arakawa-san's clinic."
Grandma Takamura nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, of course."
Arakawa-san, the head of the Hidaka Chubu Veterinarian Association, was a local legend in equine care, his years of research a quiet reassurance.
Kitano tested Aru-chan's hooves with the hoof tester, noting her subdued reaction—just a slight flinch, nothing like the pained thrashing of their last visit. It was a good sign, though not definitive. The X-ray would reveal the truth about the pedal bone's position.
"If the results look good, the rest should be straightforward," Kitano said, clapping his hands as he stood and packed away his tools. "Shimura-san's work on her hoof made a big difference."
Grandma Takamura's face softened, gratitude etched in every line. "Do you think I've forgotten your instructions?" she teased, counting on her fingers.
"Low-sugar, high-fiber diet. Supplements on time. Ice her hooves three times a day, twenty minutes each. See? My memory's still sharp."
Kitano laughed. "Perfect. Even if she's improving, stick with it. You can skip the daily icing soon, though. And if the X-ray confirms the pedal bone's stable, short walks might do her good."
He gave Aru-chan's head a gentle pat, her coarse mane brushing against his palm. Laminitis was unpredictable—some horses shook it off in days, while others carried its shadow for life. Vigilance was key, even now.
"Thank you, truly," Grandma Takamura said, her voice thick. Her eyes glistened as Aru-chan nuzzled her cheek, snorting softly. "Look, she's thanking you too."
Kitano crouched, meeting Aru-chan's gaze. "Get well soon, girl." He straightened, turning to the old woman. "You too, Grandma Takamura. Take care."
Back in his truck, Kitano allowed himself a moment of quiet. The system panel flickered in his mind: [Health Management: B+ → A-].
His skills had ticked upward during the visit, though he'd been too focused to notice at the time. Another notification caught his eye: [Improve personal ability ten times: 10/10 (Completed). Reward: Silver Omamori x 1].
He scratched his head, bemused. He'd collected a small stash of Copper and Silver Omamori, but the system shop still only offered items for the basic Green ones. Cashing them in for money? Not a chance—not unless he was down to eating bean sprouts. For now, they'd sit unused, gathering digital dust.
As he drove back to the clinic, the July sun spilled over the Hokkaido hills, warm and golden, like butter melting in a stone pot. Kitano hummed an off-key enka tune, the lyrics half-remembered: *"In this northern land… splashes of water turn to frost…"*
The road stretched ahead, and a quiet joy bloomed in his chest. Maybe it was the thought of Aru-chan's recovery, or the way Grandma Takamura's face had lit up. Maybe it was just the simple act of saving another life.
---