When Octavia was finished eating, she gave Hagane and Blue a bow of gratitude and placed the empty ramen container in the trash can. Rearing up on her hind legs, she washed the chopsticks in the sink and set them to dry.

She had yet to demonstrate any obvious magical ability, but she definitely wasn’t a normal pony.

“She doesn’t talk?” Blue asked, almost dissapointed.

Hagane shook his head. “Not sure she understands, either.”

“I wonder if she can talk. It would be a shame if she could but no one taught her to speak Japanese.”

Blue got her attention and spoke slowly. “Hello. Can you understand?”

The way Octavia’s ears flicked, perhaps she didn’t.

Blue tried a different tactic. She indicated herself. “Blue.” She pointed at Hagane. “Hagane.” She then gestured to Octavia.

The pony raised a hoof to her chest and whinnied.

Hagane and Blue looked at each other. Turning back to Octavia, Blue did her best to repeat it. Octavia shook her head and corrected, but it didn’t seem human voices were meant to pronounce pony names.

“Octavia it is, I suppose,” said Hagane. He yawned, the late night catching up to him. So did Blue. So did Octavia. They showed her to the futon and she tucked herself in with the blanket

In the bedroom, Blue had trouble falling asleep. A couple of times as she lay beside Hagane, she started to ask a question, before breaking off. That was fine with him. He wasn’t sure if he knew the answers.

Octavia had seemed comfortable on the futon. If she was still there in the morning, then maybe Hagane would believe he had actually seen a pony taking a shower and using chopsticks.

When Hagane woke up the next day, it was late morning, or he thought it was. It was hard to tell from his dark bedroom at the back of the apartment. Blue wasn’t there. Perhaps she had gone into work at the Beat Nightclub early. The house band she was apart of had been working harder than usual lately. Blue was optimistic that they could get a record deal.

Hagane got up and left the bedroom. The lights were on in the other room. Octavia sat on the futon playing Blue’s guitar.

It wasn’t plugged into an amplifier, and Octavia didn’t seem to be particularly well practiced, but she knew the chords. The strings buzzed softly under her hooves. There was a piece of paper and a pencil beside her, a few rough ledger lines drawn out with notes.

Hagane stared until she noticed him, pausing in her playing. He looked away. If Octavia knew how to play a guitar, she might also have a concept that it was rude for him to stare. He looked around. Where’s Blue? If she doesn’t have her guitar, she must not have gone to work.

However, he noticed that the bag with her wig and clothes was gone. Hagane heard a ring from the other room and went to retrieve his phone. “Hello?”

“Hagane, I forgot my guitar.”

Aha. “So I saw.”

“Can you bring it by Beat later? I still have to do the show tonight.”

Hagane could hear thumping bass in the background. “What are you doing now?”

“We’re organizing a few things. I told you we got an agent. It’s paperwork.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the guitar by before your show.”

Hanging up, Hagane calculated how much time he would have. He could drop off the guitar on his way to work. That left hours.

He went back into the other room. Octavia had put the guitar aside and came over to him with the paper she’d been using. On the other side from the notes was a sketch. Hagane took it as she offered, examining the drawing and trying to make sense of it.

At the top of the page, two ponies stood together. One was apparently Octavia, based on the treble clef. The other also seemed to have a musical mark but looked much different. There was a point on its head and sunglasses on its face.

The two figures stood next to a machine or something. Further down the page, the equipment seemed to be putting off sparks or something.

The last panel showed Octavia standing next to what Hagane realized must be him.

Did another pony build some contraption that teleported Octavia from wherever she came? Accidentally or on purpose? Where did ponies even get matter transfer technology?

Hagane looked at her and deliberately traced his finger down the page, following the chain of events. Octavia nodded and gestured for the paper. Hagane handed it over. Octavia picked up the pencil with her mouth, circling herself in the last panel and drawing an arrow back to the first.

“You want to go home,” Hagane realized.

There were a lot of problems with that. Aside from the lack of readily available teleporters, Hagane had no idea to what location a sapient pony would want to return. He puzzled on it. Finding a place to find the answers he was looking for was another good question. The university, maybe? If no one there could help, then perhaps they could tell him who else knew about that kind of high level science.

Blue wouldn’t need her guitar until the evening, so that gave them time. But if Hagane was going to have such an active morning, he was going to need fortification.

Opening the door, he glanced outside. The rain had stopped and while the ground was still damp, the sun was out. He put on his shoes and glanced at Octavia. Maybe she would like to go for a walk.

She took his hint and came over to follow him out the door. Stepping outside, now that the rain had gone, she took an interested look around. Hagane thought her attention rested for a moment on his car.

He walked her down the block where a vending machine was set up on the corner. Tommy Lee Jones scowled at him from an advertisement on the front of the machine. Dropping a couple of coins in, he got a can of Boss Coffee in return. Octavia seemed interested, so he opened the can and let her smell. It was apparently not to her liking and she politely shook her head.

Hagane turned, sipping his coffee. They stopped to get the guitar from the apartment. Hagane also picked up the paper Octavia had been using, folding it and putting it in his pocket.

They walked across the street to his car. If anything, it looked dirtier after the rain. The gun grey paint needed waxing. Or a complete respray. It was about the same color as Octavia. She wore it better.

He unlocked the door and put his coffee down. Octavia stood, visibly unsure. “Oh, sorry.” Hagane walked around to the passenger door and opened it for her. With his gesture, she climbed in. The car was low and the seats deep. It took a little gymnastics for Hagane to get in, much less a quadruped. She looked ridiculous, hind legs splayed and forelegs hanging limply, and based on her expression probably knew it.

Hagane hid a smile as he buckled her seatbelt. He walked around and got in the other side, starting the engine. The can of coffee sloshed a little where he’d put it in a pocket of the center console. He finished the rest of the beverage and put the can back.

Releasing the handbrake, he shifted the car into gear and edged out of the parking space, the racing clutch jittering. Octavia tensed at the vibration and sound of the engine, but appeared to take a cue from Hagane’s unconcerned expression.

Heading down the block, Hagane shifted into second gear, knocking over the empty beverage can with his elbow. It tumbled into Octavia’s lap.

“Sorry.” He made to grab it, but she blocked his hand. Realizing where he had been reaching, his face went red and he stuttered another apology.

Octavia saw his expression and didn’t seem to take it too personally, but she lifted the can and crushed it between her hooves. The average Japanese beverage can was stout enough that Hagane couldn’t hope to smash one with his hands. Octavia dropped the crumpled aluminum back into the pocket from where it came.

Hagane went back to focusing on the road. Driving on Japanese streets could sometimes resemble the trench run on the Death Star, and paying attention was paramount. He made it to third gear, not straying too much over the forty kilometer per hour speed limit.

There was a soft pop from under the hood and a whistling noise began. Hagane groaned and gave the throttle an experimental jab. Sure enough, the car wouldn’t rev correctly.

He knew exactly what the problem was, because it had happened before. It wouldn’t require too much money or effort to fix, but it put them off schedule.

Octavia tensed again, realizing that there was a problem, but again took her cue from Hagane that it wasn’t a serious one.

Ten minutes later, he limped the car into the parking lot of Sam’s Garage. Sam, the burly Australian who owned the place, walked outside as Hagane was getting out of the car.

“The idle air valve hose is leaking,” said Hagane in English.

“Again?” Sam asked.

Hagane shrugged.

Sam looked past him into the car and frowned. “Is that a horse? Part of your girlfriend’s show?”

At the moment, it seemed to make the most sense to say yes. Hagane nodded.

“I moved here for two reasons,” said Sam. “J-spec cars and J-spec women. I’ve already met your Skyline, so one of these days you’re going to have to introduce me to the other.”

“I have her guitar,” said Hagane.

It was in the back seat. Considering they would be there for a little while, he should let Octavia out of the car anyway. When he opened the door, she seemed to understand and unbuckled the seatbelt herself.

Sam saw her and shook his head. Hagane took out the guitar and opened the case. The azure metalflake paint sparkled in the sun. Sam glanced at it. “Nice. You said she was Blue?”

“Yes.”

“I might have to visit that club sometime.” Sam turned to go into the shop. In a moment, he came back out with a hoseclamp and a screwdriver. “That crimp-type clamp keeps slipping. Why don’t we just replace it?”

Hagane translated it in his head and nodded. It would take more time, but offered a more permanent solution.

He popped the hood for Sam, who went to work. Hagane closed the guitar case and set it aside. Octavia glanced at the engine with disinterest and looked elsewhere. A faded Mobile Oil sign on the wall of the shop, with its flying red pegasus, seemed to hold her attention for a moment.

A faint whistle came from inside the shop. Octavia’s ears perked up.

“Take the kettle off, would you?” said Sam. He was up to his elbows in the engine bay and already greasy.

Hagane turned, but saw Octavia already tending to the hotplate. She seemed disappointed by the rough mugs, but poured a cup. She sniffed the available teabags, choosing one and setting it to steep. She looked back at Hagane and tilted her head towards the kettle.

“Would you like tea?” Hagane asked Sam.

“Sure.”

Hagane nodded to Octavia, who poured a second cup. She held up the box of sugar cubes.

“Sugar?” Hagane asked.

“Two.”

Hagane flashed two fingers. Octavia finished making both cups and brought them over, balanced carefully on her back. Stopping beside the car, she took hers and blew on it.

Sam heard her and glanced to the side. He paused for several long seconds while Octavia took an experimental sip of the tea. Seeing him looking, she flicked an ear at the other cup resting on her back.

Sam straightened up from the car and took the cup. “Thanks.” He turned to Hagane. “Good timing, too. Get your tiny little hands in there and finish up.”

The hoseclamp on the Idle Air Control Valve was located beneath the intake manifold and was awkward to access. Sam liked sporty Japanese cars, but was almost too big to drive one. His personal vehicle was a customized Toyota HiAce van that he used for shop work and commuting. He’d once told Hagane that while he liked Nissan Skylines, enough of them came through the shop to satisfy his itch, and Hagane’s more than most.

Sam watched Hagane wrestle with the hose clamp. “The Yank soldier who owned this car before you sure did a number on it.”

Hagane couldn’t disagree. He managed to tighten the hoseclamp and extracted the screwdriver. He had smudges of dirt up to his elbows.

It wasn’t the first time he’d helped Sam, and knew where to find the hand cleaner inside the shop. When he returned, Sam and Octavia were still drinking their tea. Sam appeared to be doing his best not to openly stare.

Remembering they were on a timeline, Hagane asked, “How much?”

“A hundred yen for the clamp.”

Hagane gave him the coin. Octavia took a last sip of tea and gave Sam her empty cup. She lowered her head in a bow as thanks.

Sam still looked a little perturbed by the exchange, but nodded in return. He and Hagne traded goodbyes. Octavia saw they were getting ready to part ways and went around to the passenger side of the car. Hagane didn’t see how her hoof opened the door handle, but she let herself in. She buckled herself up, too.

Hagane sat in his seat and started the car. It had stopped making the noise.

They still had a lot to do today. He shifted into gear.