Lady's jagged teeth bared, her jaw tight enough to crack bone as her eyes narrowed into a glare that could kill. "What the he—"
"Akane," Ema's gentle voice cut through like sunlight through fog, her warm smile instantly defusing the tension. The old woman's eyes moved between her granddaughter and the two guests on the tatami. "Your friends from work came all this way to return something you left behind. I invited them in for tea and sweets."
Lady froze mid-step, her fury dissolving into stiff disbelief. "Friends from—" she started, then caught sight of Daichi and Light grinning nervously like cornered cats. Her glare could have burned a hole through the wall, but she forced a grin that was all teeth and no warmth. "Right. Work friends. You guys really shouldn't have." She scratched the back of her head, the polite façade barely holding against the rage simmering beneath.
Ema smiled, entirely unaware of the storm about to break. "Well, I should put Tsubaki to bed. She's had quite the day."
Lady's hardened expression softened immediately as her gaze fell on the sleeping child in Ema's arms. She brushed a lock of hair from the little girl's forehead and kissed it gently. "Sweet dreams, honey."
Tsubaki murmured, smiling faintly before nestling closer to her grandmother.
"Please excuse me," Ema said, turning to Lady. "How about you keep your friends company while I get her settled? I won't be long."
"Sure thing, Grandma," Lady replied, still smiling sweetly until the old woman disappeared down the hall.
The moment the sliding door closed with a wooden snap, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Lady turned back toward them, her expression twisting into pure, unfiltered rage.
"Explanation. Now. And it better be good."
Light's back hit the wall. Breath trapped in her throat as Lady filled the doorway like a storm. "Um… well… we—" she started. "We saw you, and we—"
"Wrong answer." Lady cracked her knuckles, stepping in until the heat of her presence pressed on both of them.
Daichi pushed himself up before he could think better of it. "Look, if you want to kick someone's ass, kick mine. It was my idea. I dragged her into this."
Lady cocked her head, eyes narrowing as if trying to place him. For a second curiosity cut through the rage. "You seem familiar… where have I—" Then recognition hit, sharp and sour. "Wait. You're that loser back at the meet. The one that little bird hangs with. You're here to spy on me for your girlfriend, aren't you?"
Daichi's face flamed. "Okay, rude," he muttered. "First of all, I'm not her boyfriend. I'm just—" He waved a hand, searching for words. "A boy, who just so happens to be her friend, that's all. Second of all—" He lifted a finger as if to add something, then froze, the color draining a fraction from his face. He swallowed, then forced out, "Okay. Fine. You're right, we were spying on you."
Lady's eyes flicked to Light, then back to Daichi. "What's the first rule of the MRA?" She let the question sit, watching them both shrink under the look. "You know it too. It's plastered on the Terms of Service the moment you open that damn app."
Light's gaze dropped. She bit her bottom lip until Daichi went pale. "First rule of the MRA is… don't talk about the MRA," she said.
"Bingo," Lady said, a faint, cruel lift at one corner of her mouth. "So you ain't entirely useless." She turned that same hard look on Daichi. "What's the second rule?"
Daichi stammered, throat tight. "Uh… paraphrasing, but… everything outside the MRA is nobody's business." His hands trembled. "Which means keep names, keep identities, keep histories private."
A slow, humorless smile crawled across Lady's face. She leaned closer. "Alright then. So, give me three damn good reasons why I shouldn't rat you both out to the MRA." She cracked her knuckled again. "That is, once I'm done beating you two to next Tuesday and toss your busted carcasses out back with the trash."
Light's words broke the tension. "We know," she said. "Ema-san, your grandmother, she told us everything. About your mother, about you…" Her words faltered for a heartbeat. "About Tsubaki."
Lady froze, her face unreadable for a moment before her shoulders slumped. A long, exasperated groan left her as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "God, that old bat's gotta stop running her mouth to every stranger with a smile." She dropped her hand and gave them both a sharp look. "It ain't anyone's business. Not hers. Not yours."
"Look," Daichi said quickly, lifting both hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. We're sorry." He gestured between himself and Light, who nodded beside him. "Honestly, I thought we were just gonna stumble onto some embarrassing secret or something—"
Lady's brow shot up, and her teeth flashed, making Daichi flinch. "Okay, yeah, that came out wrong," he blurted. "What I meant is, I didn't want this. Not that kind of dirt." His tone dropped, steadying. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, about everything."
"Save it," Lady said flatly. Her glare lingered for a second longer before she exhaled and moved past them. She sat down at the low table, the wood creaking under her weight, tail flicking idly behind her. "It happened. That's all there is to it." She reached for one of the teacups and gave a faint, bitter laugh. "Now you know why I don't talk about the past. Never ends well."
Daichi hesitated, then slowly sank back down onto the tatami, the tension in his shoulders easing. Just barely. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words that didn't sound like broken glass. "By the way…" he started, forcing a weak grin that didn't quite land. "Akane, huh?"
"Hah?" Lady's head snapped up, a scowl creasing her face. "Yeah. Akane Pulse." She tilted her head, one brow raised in challenge. "That's the name I got. You got a problem with it?"
Daichi quickly shook his head. "No, no, not at all."
But as the silence settled back in, heavier than before, even he could feel the weight of it. Light folded her hands neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor before she lifted her eyes to Lady. "Does the rest of your crew… know?"
"No," Lady said flatly, cutting her off. "I don't air my dirty laundry, and neither do they. As far as we're concerned, we're a team with one job and one job only—racing. They don't dump their crap on me, and I don't dump mine on them."
Daichi's throat tightened. "The Umagoya…" He stopped when Lady's glare snapped to him, sharp enough to freeze the words in his mouth. "Sorry," he managed, hands raised slightly. "I just… until a few minutes ago, I thought it was some sick fantasy dreamed up by a twisted manga artist." He swallowed. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but… what really happened?"
Lady went quiet. Her eyes drifted toward the steaming cup in her hands. "Well, cat's out of the bag, so I might as well spill the rest of it," she said at last. "And if I had one word… Hell."
She lifted it to her lips and took a sip. "Most of the umas they got came from poor families. Addicts. Debtors. People desperate enough to trade away their kids for a bag of rice and a roof over their heads." Her eyes hardened. "They trained them, ran them in circuits. Some backdoor, some legit, under the front of talent agencies. And when you couldn't run anymore…" She lifted a hand and gestured loosely. "Winners got put on the rack. Losers got shoved onto the bottom shelf."
Daichi and Light exchanged a confused look.
Lady groaned and rolled her eyes. "Read between the lines, geniuses. 'Put on the rack' means they got to make more winners. 'Bottom shelf' means they got to shake their tails for spare change."
The realization hit both of them at once. Their faces went pale, eyes wide with horror.
Lady's tone lowered, roughened by memory. "Wasn't long before they realized the dumb and desperate were all tapped out," she said. "So they got creative. That's when things got real sick. They started snatching uma kids off the streets. Even teenagers." Her jaw flexed. "My mom… she was one of them."
Daichi and Light fell silent, their faces softening.
"She never wanted to race," Lady went on quietly. "Didn't have it in her. But that didn't matter. They trained her anyway. Beat it into her, really." Her eyes dimmed. "She wasn't fast enough, not good enough, so you can guess where she ended up." Her fingers tightened around the teacup. "Wasn't long before I came along."
"God…" Daichi breathed, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
Lady gave a bitter half-smile. "I never told Grandma. Figured it'd kill her to know the truth about what really happened to her daughter." She shook her head slowly. "I wish I could tell you I had good memories of her. That she loved me, tucked me in at night, told me everything would be okay. But she didn't. Years of what they did to her… it broke something inside. When she found out she was pregnant, it shattered her completely."
Light's eyes widened. "Lady…"
"She blamed me," Lady said flatly. "Every scream, every bruise, every tear. I was the reason. The reminder. The thing that ruined her." Her eyes lifted toward the faint light above, glassy but dry. "Then one day, she just stopped trying. Walked out of the room and never came back. Later, I heard she tied a few sheets together, looped them over the lamp and…" She trailed off. The words caught in her throat.
The silence that followed was heavy, thick enough to choke on.
Lady dragged in a deep, uneven breath as she went on. "Anyway, then it was my turn," she said. "And I was a little shit, no two ways about it. Nothing but anger and bad decisions rolled into one." A flicker of a smirk crossed her face, brief and sharp. "I hated them. Every one of them. Swore I'd never make it easy. The harder they hit, the harder I bit back."
Her eyes drifted toward the cup in her hands. "But I wasn't a pushover on the track either. I ran like hell. Beat anyone they put in front of me, because back then, all I cared about was not ending up on the bottom shelf."
"Then, when I was thirteen… I mouthed off to the wrong guy." Her hand trembled slightly, porcelain clinking against wood as her grip on the teacup tightened. "And he…" Her jaw locked, teeth grinding together.
Daichi and Light exchanged a horrified glance but said nothing.
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her. "Don't worry. He got his ass handed to him," she muttered. "Didn't walk right for a month after they were done with him." She exhaled, the sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. "Not long after that, the cops raided the place. Tore it apart, took us all out one by one. Guess someone up top finally grew a conscience."
Her gaze dropped to the tatami, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "With what little paperwork they had, they tracked down Grandma. New name, new life, whole new start." She gave a small, bitter laugh. "At least till the morning sickness kicked in."
"Tsubaki," Light whispered, the name barely leaving her lips.
"Yeah," Lady breathed out, a dry laugh catching in her throat. "Imagine that, fresh outta hell and suddenly a mom at fourteen." She dragged a hand through her hair, pushing the messy strands from her face. "Scared outta my damn mind. No school, no job, no clue what I was doing. Just me and a crying baby in a world that didn't give a damn."
"But the second I saw her… everything changed." Her gaze unfocused, distant, as if she were staring through the years. "She was this tiny, warm thing in my arms, and for the first time in my life, I felt like maybe I mattered. Like maybe I could be more than what they made me." She swallowed hard. "I swore right then I'd give her everything I never got. No pain. No fear. No chains. Just a chance to live free."
A faint, tired smile crept across her face. "She became my world. My reason to wake up. And I'd walk through fire for her if it meant she'd never have to see the flames."
"Those people in suits." Daichi's stare sharpened, the weight behind his words making Lady flinch before she could hide it. "I know they're with the MRA. Who were they, and what do they want from you?"
"How did you—" Lady then scoffed and looked away. "Screw it. Racing ain't free. This ain't the URA or the shiny-ass Classics where you sign a few forms, suit up, and jog your way to glory." She rubbed her neck, exhaling hard. "Just like the URA has the Twinkle Series, the MRA's got the Regalia Series."
Light nodded thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Right, the URA runs G1, G2, G3, and ungraded races. Your standard structure," she said. "But the MRA's hierarchy's a little different. Diamond, Ruby, Emerald, Sapphire, Garnet and Quartz." Her gaze lifted to Lady. "Quartz is the entry level, like the Maiden Races, and Diamond's the top tier."
"Exactly," Lady said. "Except the MRA's got its own kind of entry fee. Call it collateral."
Daichi frowned. "Collateral? You mean like money?"
"Money, gold, jewels, anything worth a damn." Her tone went flat. "The higher the grade, the bigger the stake. Lose the race, you lose your collateral. No exceptions." She shifted in place, her tail twitching. "The Kokuteikai and I, we stick to Garnet and Quartz level races. Safer bets, smaller losses." She gave Light a sidelong glance. "Except lately, we've been losing. A lot."
Light's head dipped.
Lady went on. "Every time we lose, I've gotta make up the difference somehow. So yeah, I go to the suits at the MRA. They give me an advance. With interest."
Daichi's jaw dropped. "You went to the sharks? God, Lady, that's suicide. I've been at the bottom. Digging through trash for dinner, and even I knew to stay the hell away from those people."
Lady's gaze lifted to his, something dark flickering behind her eyes. "You don't get it. When it's your kid's life on the line, you stop thinking about survival. You start thinking about tomorrow."
Light trembled as she asked, "H-how much do you owe them?"
Lady's expression darkened, the weight in her eyes saying more than the words that followed. "A small fortune," she said flatly. Her jaw clenched. "And now they've put me on the ticket. Which means I either pay up or get buried trying." She stood, her tail flicking in agitation as she turned toward the wall, shoulders rigid.
"Remember what I said about anything worth a damn?" Her words were quieter now, but sharp enough to cut. "That includes bodies. The MRA's rule is simple—crew members aren't collateral unless they volunteer to be Pinks." She turned, her gaze locking on Light. "That stupid move you pulled, throwing yourself in front of the wolves when your team bailed? That's why you're in this mess. You ain't dumb, you're just too damned soft."
Light froze, her ears twitching, the shame in her silence answering for her. Daichi's brow furrowed as he pieced it together.
"On record," Lady continued, "you're the only Pink on my crew. And they've already offered me a deal, square my debt in exchange… for you."
"For her?" Daichi repeated, his confusion fading into dawning horror. "You mean they…" His words trailed off as the realization hit. He looked to Light, her face pale as snow. "No… you're not saying…" He rose to his feet, the blood draining from his face as the truth crashed down on him. "You don't mean—"
Lady looked away, her teeth grinding audibly as her silence answered for her.
Daichi's face twisted with fury before the thought even formed. He surged forward, grabbed Lady by the collar of her uniform, lifted her up, and slammed her against the wall hard enough to rattle the hanging frames. The sound cracked through the small room, echoing off the tatami floor.
Lady's eyes widened. Not with fear, but shock. She'd seen rage before, but this was different. Daichi's eyes burned, jaw tight, breath trembling through his teeth.
"You're sick," he spat. "You're evil! You came from an Umagoya. You know what it's like. You know what they did, what they took. And now you're gonna send someone else into that same goddamn Hell just to save your own tail!?"
Lady bared her jagged teeth. "Take your hands off me. Now."
"Or what?" Daichi shot back. "You gonna rough me up like you do Light? Go ahead, what're you waiting for?!" He leaned in, his grip trembling. "But you sure a Hell better be ready kill me dead, 'cause I don't give a shit that you're a girl. I won't stop until I—"
"Daichi!" Light's cry cut through the air, sharp and panicked. She was on her feet now, her hands trembling as they hovered in front of her. "Please," she said. "Let her go."
Both of them froze. The air in the room thickened, heat pressing against the walls until it felt hard to breathe. Daichi's grip trembled, his chest heaving. Lady's glare wavered, fury breaking under something rawer. Then he felt it. Something warm and wet against his wrist.
He looked down. Tears had fallen onto his hands. His gaze lifted to Lady's face, streaked and shaking, her teeth clenched so tight it looked painful.
"They said…" Her voice cracked, every word dragging itself out from her throat. "They said they were gonna take Tsubaki." Her breath hitched, trembling. "They were gonna take my baby girl, and it's all my fault."
Daichi's fingers slowly loosened. His grip fell away from her collar as she slid down the wall, landing hard on the tatami with a dull thud. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, curling in on herself as the tears kept coming.
"I can't," she whispered. "I won't. I've already lost everyone. Everyone I ever gave a damn about." Her voice broke again, softer now. "I can't lose her too."
Daichi froze, a chill creeping up his spine as an image flickered in his head. Dahlia's arms wrapped around his neck, her own desperate voice echoing those same words. He swallowed hard, stepping back as Light moved quietly to his side.
Lady lifted her head, eyes burning through her tears. "I haven't given them an answer," she said. "Couldn't even if I wanted to. You." She looked straight at Light "You're the collateral in the next race."
"I'd rather die than send another uma to an Umagoya. But if it came down to my daughter or you…" She drew a ragged breath, her tail low, ears trembling. "I'd hate myself for it. I'd never forgive myself. But I'd still pick my daughter, every damned time."
Light tugged gently on Daichi's sleeve. "I think it's best if we go," she said.
Daichi met her eyes, then nodded. Light turned back to Lady and bowed politely. "Please tell Ema thank you. For the tea, the sweets, and her kindness." She slid the door open, the soft rasp of wood breaking the silence, and stepped into the hallway.
Daichi lingered a moment longer, glancing back at Lady. "By the way," he said. "Her name's Dahlia. Black Dahlia."
Lady looked up, brow furrowed, caught off guard.
"And believe it or not," Daichi went on, pausing at the doorway, "you and her have a lot more in common than you think." Then he turned, following Light into the corridor.
The room fell quiet again. Lady sat frozen for a moment, then bowed her head, arms wrapping around herself as her body began to tremble. The sobs came slow at first, then broke loose, echoing softly against the walls.
Down the corridor, Ema stood just around the corner, her frail back pressed to the wall. She closed her eyes, the sound reaching her like a wound reopened. "Oh, my dear Akane," she whispered.
****
Logan's thumb hit the button on the stopwatch, the sharp beep echoing across the empty course. "Time!" he called, squinting at the numbers before nodding. His gaze lifted toward Dahlia, who slowed from a sprint to a jog, breath ragged as sweat fell in drops to the cracked asphalt beneath her boots.
The floodlights bathed the track in harsh white, cutting through the dark like artificial daylight. The air smelled of burnt rubber, heated halogen, and faint cigarette smoke curling from Logan's lips. Dahlia threw back her hair, slick with sweat, and ran a hand through it before striding toward him, her grin confident despite her exhaustion.
"So?" she asked, hands on her hips. "I'd say I shaved at least ten seconds from the last run."
"Four," Logan said, flashing the stopwatch. Her groan made him smirk. "Still, that's progress. You're getting sharper with every run." He took a drag, smoke spilling from his nose as he glanced toward the track. "We've got more or less a week till the final race."
Dahlia's brow furrowed. "You think that's enough time?"
"I'd be lying if I said yeah." Logan exhaled slowly. "Lady's not the best racer out there, but she's seasoned. You're still green off the rocks."
"Yeah, no shit," Dahlia muttered, rolling her eyes before smirking. "Still… I wouldn't have made it this far without you. So, thanks."
Logan chuckled and shook his head. "Don't thank me yet, kid." He pocketed the stopwatch, turned, and grabbed a thick manila folder from a rusted drum barrel. He held it out to her. "Here. You're gonna need this."
Dahlia raised a brow as she took it, surprised by its weight. "What is this, a textbook?" She flipped it open, and her eyes went wide.
Inside were dense pages of notes written in Logan's scrawled handwriting: form analyses, sketches of stride mechanics, muscle diagrams, annotated breakdowns of posture and balance. The later pages outlined a detailed regimen. Nutrition plans, endurance drills, and daily routines spanning weeks.
"Holy hell," Dahlia whispered. "You wrote all this? And these drawings—did you actually draw these?"
Leaning against the barrel, Logan flicked ash from his cigarette. "Technique's step one," he said. "You've kept fit running deliveries. I'll give you that. But as a racer…" He met her eyes. "You're a mess."
Dahlia scowled, tugging up her shirt to show her chiseled abs. "Does this look like a mess to you?"
Logan snorted. "Not if you're training for a swimsuit calendar." He smirked. "You've got the looks, but no foundation. Champions run on discipline. That includes routine and diet."
Dahlia opened her mouth to argue, but Logan cut her off with a raised hand. "Save it. I know what you've been eating. Convenience store rice packs, instant ramen, and vending machine coffee. It keeps you alive, but it sure as hell doesn't fuel you."
He dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his boot. "In Strider or Tracen, they keep uma athletes on balanced diets. Protein, greens, carbs. The good stuff. You don't need fancy. Just clean. Fresh. Look up marked-down groceries, local markets, stuff that won't clog your system."
He stepped closer, flipping to a section labeled Daily Routine. "And from now on, you're following this. Roadwork, core training, flexibility drills. I've split it by day." His eyes met hers. "I'm not babysitting you. This part's all you. We'll focus on form and technique here at midnight."
Dahlia skimmed the page, and her jaw dropped. "A hundred pushups, a hundred sit-ups, a hundred jumping jacks, and—" She blinked, incredulous. "Daily roadwork? Ten kilometres?!" She gawked at him. "What are you, insane?"
Logan grinned, lighting another cigarette. "Probably. But that's what it takes to stop being the underdog, kid. So suck it up and lace up." Logan took a slow drag, the tip of his cigarette glowing briefly in the dark before he exhaled a faint trail of smoke that curled through the floodlight haze. "'Sides," he said, "that routine of yours is just a fraction of what my girls used to pull off."
Dahlia looked down at the folder in her hands, running a thumb over its edge before closing it carefully. "They must've really admired you, huh?" she asked softly.
Logan let out a short laugh, rough around the edges. "Admired me? Maybe. Tolerated me? Definitely." He folded his arms, cigarette balanced between two fingers. "Not sure if you heard, but back in the day I was the youngest national trainer in the States. Hell, maybe the world. The press called me the Doogie Howser of Strider."
Dahlia blinked, brow furrowing. "Who?"
Logan smirked. "Old American tv show. Kid becomes a doctor before he hits puberty. Anyway, I was thirteen when I got in. Everyone else there was twice my age, all seasoned vets, and they hated my guts." He flicked the ash aside. "Can't really blame them. I must've looked like some punk who wandered into the wrong building."
He stared down at the dirt. "Scouting day was a circus. The top trainers poached all the stars, and the girls? Well, they flocked to them like moths. Nobody wanted to take a chance on the kid barely old enough to drive. Hell, I don't think anyone even looked my way."
A quiet smile tugged at his mouth. "So there I was, standing all alone, thinking I'd get stuck with a pity pick just to fill a quota." His gaze softened. "And then she walked up to me." He looked up, a flicker of memory in his eyes. "Desert Rose."
Dahlia's jaw dropped. "Wait—the Desert Rose? The thirty-time G1 champion? Prix de l'Arc, Dubai World Cup, and the Saudi Cup?"
"Among others," Logan said, a hint of pride slipping through his usual roughness. "Yeah, that's her." He chuckled under his breath. "She was sixteen at the time, and I thought she was the most beautiful uma I'd ever seen in my damn life."
His gaze drifted distant, lost in the memory. "She's Arabian. Bloodline of champions. Her mother came from one of the oldest uma families in the Middle East. But she left home, defied her family to be with an American man. Caused a scandal. Whole industry turned its back on her. When her daughter showed up at Strider, every trainer avoided her like the plague. Didn't matter how fast she was, they all thought her name was poison."
He took another drag, eyes half-lidded. "Guess that's why she came to me. Two outcasts with something to prove."
Logan exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "And prove we did," he said quietly. "She was unstoppable. An absolute monster on the track. Blew past every hotshot and would-be champion her generation threw at her. Win after win after win."
He paused, eyes distant yet softened by a faint, nostalgic warmth. "She's the one who put my name in lights. Within the first year, we had reporters camped at our door, analysts dissecting every run, interview requests piling up faster than we could answer them. Hell, we even won newcomer awards from the USURA."
His tone shifted. "But it wasn't just the glory. The races got harder. Rivals got hungrier. The pressure of an entire country breathing down our necks... it was suffocating." His fingers tapped absently against his knee. "Forget kid stuff. My life became a blur of paperwork, training schedules, and sleepless nights fueled by caffeine and stubborn pride." He let out a dry chuckle. "There were days I wanted to quit. Too many. I kept thinking I was just some dumb kid pretending to be a trainer. That I didn't belong."
He drew in a quiet breath, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "And every time that thought crossed my mind, she'd drag me back up, look me dead in the eye, and tell me to try again."
"And when she finally left Strider, she didn't stick around the States for long. Hopped over to Europe, cleaned house there too. But I knew that wasn't the endgame. Her eyes were set on home—the Middle East. And when she finally got there…" He let out a short laugh. "She tore through the tracks, left her cousins eating sand. A perfect middle finger to the same family that disowned her and her mother. Wish I'd seen their faces."
Dahlia smiled faintly. "She must've really cared about you."
Logan's grin faltered, his ears pinking slightly. "Yeah… she did. But, uh—she kinda had a thing for… Um, little brothers." He coughed into his fist, glancing aside. "You can imagine how awkward that made my teenage years."
"Oh…" Dahlia blinked, realization dawning before a mischievous grin tugged at her lips. "Ohhh." She pressed her fingertips together. "Did you two… um... you know…"
Logan fixed her with a flat stare, deadpan and unimpressed. "Kid, get your head outta the gutter. This ain't one of those trashy Japanese comics degenerates stay up reading to wet their dicks. The answer's no."
Dahlia snorted, trying, and failing, to hold back her laughter.
"Anyway, the point is," Logan said quickly, clearing his throat and waving the smoke away. "Even with all the fame, I kept doing what I always did, looking for the ones no one wanted. The rejects, the troublemakers, the girls everyone laughed at or gave up on." He looked at her, the edge of pride flickering in his gaze. "One by one, they came under my wing. Every single one of them turned into a champion in her own right."
He took one last drag from his cigarette, crushing it under his boot. "Including Rose, seven of them went on to become the first generation of the Godly Fifteen."
"Hey, I just thought of something." Dahlia crossed her arms, tail flicking in restless arcs behind her. After a moment's thought, she tilted her head and tapped her chin. "You said something back at Saburo's, about having a family once."
Logan's expression shifted, the humor draining from his face. His gaze dropped to the ground. "Yeah…" he said quietly.
The change in his tone made Dahlia's ears lower. "Um… was she…"
"I know what you're asking," Logan interrupted gently. "Yeah. She was one of my girls." He took a step closer and rested a hand on her shoulder, the briefest hint of a smile softening his features. "But that's a story for another night."
Dahlia looked up at him, uncertain.
"Here's your teaser, though," he said, forcing a smirk. "You remind me a lot of her. Maybe a little less punchy and screamy, but close enough."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Dahlia frowned as Logan chuckled and turned away, hands slipping into his pockets.
"Means you ask too many questions," he called over his shoulder. "Come on, kid. Sun's gonna be up soon, and I need my beauty sleep."
"Logan, I'm serious!" she protested, jogging after him.
He waved lazily without turning around, his silhouette framed in the faint light of dawn as they left the circuit. One by one, the floodlights clicked off behind them, until the track was swallowed by darkness once more.