The equestrian club sprawled across the outskirts of Modu. White fences lined the paddocks. The smell of hay and leather hung in the air.
I changed into a fitted black riding jacket and cream breeches. Tsukago changed into a light pink riding jacket. The squirrel poked its head out of her bag, its black bean eyes taking in the horses.
A chestnut mare stamped its hoof against the stable floor. Its rider, a woman in her late thirties, was adjusting the stirrup. Her hands trembled slightly on the leather. She tightened the girth three times, each time pulling it a notch too tight. The horse tossed its head.
Tsukago leaned in. "Sister, that woman has checked the girth four times now. The horse is getting annoyed."
"She's not checking the girth. She's checking if she still has control over something."
A boy burst out of the clubhouse. Around ten years old. He was holding a handful of pebbles. He wound up and hurled one at a black horse in the nearest paddock. The horse shied sideways, its ears flattening.
The boy laughed and reached for another pebble.
Tsukago walked toward him. She didn't run. She just walked. The squirrel was in her hand. The boy wound up again.
"Don't." Tsukago's voice was calm. She crouched down to his level. "See this squirrel. Its name is Lychee. It saw what you just did."
The boy stared at the squirrel. "It's fake. It can't see anything."
"Lychee sees everything." She held the squirrel up, its black bean eyes level with his. "And it tells me everything. Right now, it's telling me you threw a rock at that horse. It's also telling me you're going to apologize."
"I'm not apologizing to a squirrel."
"No. You're apologizing to the horse. Lychee is just the witness." She tilted her head. "Unless you want me to tell your mother. She's in the clubhouse, right? The woman with the too-tight girth."
The boy's hand opened. The pebbles clattered to the ground. He stared at the squirrel. Tsukago made the squirrel nod slowly, like a tiny judge confirming a verdict. The boy turned and trudged toward the paddock. He stood by the fence and muttered something to the black horse. The horse flicked its tail.
Tsukago brushed a speck of straw from the squirrel's tail. "That boy will think twice before throwing another rock. Lychee made a convincing witness." She made the squirrel nod like a tiny judge.
"The squirrel as a moral compass." I leaned against the warm fence. "There is a children's book in that."
"Bestseller: Lychee Judges You. This girl will write the foreword." She held the squirrel at arm's length, squinting like a publisher, then made it point a stern paw at me. "You would just critique the font, Sister."
"Someone has to maintain standards." I pushed the paw aside. "Speaking of which, the woman in the stables—she will break by next week."
"Her horse was the real giveaway." Tsukago tucked the squirrel away, leaving its head poking out like a periscope. "It did not trust her." She imitated a horse's nervous head-toss. "Animals always know."
"So do we." I pushed off the fence. Tsukago fell in beside me, the squirrel's head wobbling in her bag like a dashboard bobblehead.
The stable yard was quieting down. A groom led the chestnut mare back to her stall, her hooves clopping a slow, steady rhythm on the packed dirt. The woman with the too-tight girth was still standing by the fence, her hand resting flat on the rail. Her fingers were no longer trembling.
She looked at us as we passed, and this time, she held my gaze. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was dry, like paper that had been folded too many times.
"As a girl, I didn't do anything," I said.
"You did. You loosened something." She looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers against the wood. "Maybe." She uncurled them from the rail and walked slowly toward the stable door, her steps lighter than before.
Tsukago waited until she was out of earshot. "Next week," she said, her voice low. "This girl gives it a week before she's in our office, asking for help with more than a girth."
"Less. The horse already knows. Now she knows the horse knows." I watched the stable door swing shut behind the woman. "That kind of revelation doesn't take a week to sink in."
"Animals are the best recruiters." Tsukago made the squirrel nod again, its tiny head bobbing. "Lychee's already drafting the offer letter. Full benefits. All the hay she can eat."
"Lychee doesn't eat hay."
"Details. It's the gesture that counts." She tucked the squirrel deeper into her bag, where it settled against the lining, its black eyes still gleaming.
[chat] Daughter handled that kid so well 👏
[chat] Lychee is the real MVP 🐿️
[chat] That woman with the girth needs help
[chat] Wifey and Daughter are unstoppable ✨
The chestnut mare had finally calmed. The woman was stroking its neck, her hand no longer trembling. She looked up as we passed.
"Your horse doesn't need the girth that tight." I met her eyes. "She needs you to trust her."
The woman's hand paused on the horse's neck. She didn't answer. But her fingers loosened on the leather.
We walked out of the stables. The afternoon light stretched long shadows across the paddock. The black horse was grazing peacefully. The boy was nowhere in sight. The pebbles were still scattered on the ground by the fence.