Fragmented rose-pink clouds decorated the orange-yellow sky. A thin morning haze hung over the city streets down below. The moon had disappeared beneath the horizon and the sun, burning the wispy edges of the clouds with its light, had emerged in its place. 

The cycle of the heavens was beginning anew, and a new day was breaking over Buzznya. 

Gliding Glaciers

Leaning against the balcony’s railing, Frost blinked the bleariness out of their eyes. After staying awake all night in a dark room, even the soft light of the morning was too sharp and bright for them to stomach. 

Is it really eight A.M. already? Frost wondered to themselves. Their night had started with commiserating their bottom-two standings alongside the Swarm, but, as was often the case with the Swarm, it had devolved into an all-night jam session. Never mind that out of the five of them, none of Frost’s own team members were musically skilled. 

It was fun, but seeing dawn break made reality bite hard. The final event, and their last chance to pull their team out from last place, was creeping closer. 

Mustering any enthusiasm for it felt impossible. Their position was good—Alpine was as reliable a sand racer as ever—but the top three racers looked impenetrable. Even then, a miracle gold medal wouldn’t let them break the top half. 

I shouldn’t have agreed to do the final event, Frost thought. Maybe Alpine or Iceberg could handle something so hopeless… I’m just going to crack under the pressure. 

Caught up in their introspection, Frost didn’t notice either the balcony door behind them clicking open or Shimmer’s slow approach. It took a gentle tap to the side to bring them back to reality. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Shimmer sighed. “The infinite cosmic ballet.”

“Uh…it’s nice.” 

“Excited for the race tomorrow? First time you’ll be on the M1 track with your biggest rivals.” Shimmer sounded more excited for it than they were. 

“I… I don’t know. Not really.” 

“Whaaaaaat?” Shimmer exclaimed. “The final event is the most fun! All the excitement, the closing ceremony, partying until dawn afterwards—”

“Ugh! How on Marblearth is fun what you’re thinking about right now?” 

Startled by the raise of their voice, a bird broke from its perch on the adjacent balcony. Frost watched it fly in the direction of the city shamefully. 

“Urk… sorry for yelling at you.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to louder stuff,” Shimmer laughed. “If you’ve got something you want to let out, don’t hold back.” 

Frost shut their eyes tight and swallowed. 

“We’ve just spent the season humiliating ourselves. Knocked out of the heats most of the time, falling short of the medal when we’re not. I just… I hate how embarrassing it is to be last. I hate that if I don’t do well enough tomorrow—and against you in particular—we’ll still be there. I’ve wanted to be an athlete since the moment I knew it was something you could do. But I’m probably just not cut out for it.” 

Pressure built against the dam. Frost forced themselves to hold back the hot tears that welled at the back of their eyes. They waited for a reply from Shimmer, but nothing came. Shimmer was silent, their easy smile still turned towards the horizon. 

Eventually, Shimmer turned back to them. They finally spoke.

Shining Swarm

“You like competing, right?” 

“I… yes,” Frost admitted sheepishly. “I do.” 

“Of course. Otherwise you wouldn’t have worked so hard to be here. Well—and don’t take this as me saying you’ve got no actual problem—but it’s pretty amazing to do what you love for a living, isn’t it?” 

Short of an objection, it was Frost’s turn to go silent. 

“My parents weren’t originally from Galeem, and they had crummy jobs they didn’t like in a completely unfamiliar place. But when I wanted my first guitar, that thankless work paid for it. Music and marble athletics alike, good times and bad times, I remind myself just how much effort has gone into building a life where my job is to follow my dreams in front of an audience that loves me for it. And then setbacks like these don’t feel so bad.” 

“But what if my career just goes downhill forever, and then everyone hates me for ruining the team?” Frost cried. 

“It only feels like forever because you’re young. Why waste your youth catastrophizing about certain doom?” 

Frost’s eyes welled with tears. Shimmer nudged them closer and pulled them in for a comforting hug. 

“Consider this an old-timer’s permission to be proud of yourself. You’ve worked hard, and I know you’re going to do your best tomorrow. But in the meantime, you can cry if you need to.”  

Frost sobbed louder, pulling Shimmer in tightly. They cried until they were shaking, so exhausted of tears that all they could do was heave ragged breaths.

“I‘m sorry… I shouldn’t make you deal with me in this state.”  

“Don’t worry. Just let it all out.” 

Shimmer hugged them until they calmed, their breathing gradually slowing down. When they seemed to have relaxed, Shimmer tapped them gently on the side. 

“I’m gonna go back inside and get you something to drink, alright?” 

When Frost nodded, they withdrew inside. Scattered around the common room were innumerable discarded cans of Non-Descript Soda and ice cream wrappers. 

Sterling and Sparkle had fallen asleep next to each other on the sofa, an XLR cable draped over the two of them from when they were duetting earlier. Alpine and Polar had taken the sofa across from them, while Iceberg was on the floor. All five of them looked absolutely wiped. 

Only Glimmer was still awake; by the looks of it, everyone else had left, probably to get a more comfortable sleep. It was the spitting image of some of their more inglorious nights touring as a band. 

“You talk to Frost? They looked pretty upset.” Glimmer asked as Shimmer ran a glass under the tap and snagged a packet of cashews from the minibar. 

“Yeah…not doing so hot. But they’ll be okay.” 

“You know, you haven’t said anything about how you feel. Not to pressure you, but if you can’t beat Frost we’ll get last.” 

The senior of the two sighed as they pulled the tap closed. “Well… come what may, right? I think we put up a pretty good fight.” 

“More roll out than roll over?” 

“For sure.” 

Team Plasma

To Ecto,

Please make your way to the top of the Buzznyan Foothills by 10 a.m. We have a surprise waiting for you!

Signed,
Your secret supporters!

Ecto didn’t know what to make of the note that had been pushed under their door. It hadn’t been there when they’d fallen asleep the night before, and they couldn’t pin the penmanship to any of their teammates. Thus, they knew only two things about its authorship: that whoever sent it had access to the athletes’ village at night and knew their room number. Simple deduction confirmed that it was almost certainly a fellow athlete. The question was of who. 

Against their better instincts, they followed the notes’ instructions and made their way to the foothills where Team Plasma had earned their Steeplechase gold. They arrived to find the designated spot deserted by all but local sightseers. 

Have I been pranked? Ecto wondered. All of the athletes they’d met had been decent folk. They wouldn’t waste their precious pre-event preparation time. And yet—  

“Hey! Hey! Ecto! Over here!” 

A loud howl rang out from behind them, startling Ecto. Their gaze snapped over to the track in the distance. Two marbles had seemingly worked their way up the sand hills from the bottom and were slowly approaching them. 

Ecto recognized them. 

“Club? Fenrir?”

They made up some of the distance, meeting their fellow athletes halfway. Both were visibly exhausted and covered in sand. 

“I apologize for not looking particularly dignified right now,” Club lamented. “Somebody decided we should race down and up while we waited for you.” 

“Yeah, and it was awesome,” added Fenrir. 

“Don’t worry about it.” It couldn’t bother Ecto less how either of them looked. “You’re the ones who left me that note?” 

Composure regained, Club nodded. “Yes. Fenrir suggested it, but it’s a joint venture.” 

“As fellow expansion teams and Season 4 rookies, we wanted to throw our support behind you for the race. Yeah, you’re starting in thirteenth, but you’re an awesome racer!” 

“There’s nothing I can tell you about perseverance through trials that you haven’t learned in equal measure. So I’ll say this—however this ends, you should be proud of yourself. What you’ve achieved is no small feat.” 

“That’s why we got you this!!” 

From behind a nearby thicket of bushes, Club produced a neatly-wrapped bouquet. Lavender and edelweiss intertwined with yellow poppies, wrapped with a ribbon in Team Plasma’s signature red. 

“Your team’s story has won everyone’s hearts,” Club explained. “You deserve something that expresses that.” 

“I wanted to get you a giant steak, but Club said you liked flowers. Maybe another time?” 

Ecto accepted the flowers just seconds before they burst into tears. No matter what, they would have so much love and potential waiting for them at the finish line. 

“You two… thank you so much,” Ecto spoke through sobs. “I won’t ever forget this, I promise you. I’m going to make you both proud.” 

Thunderbolts

In these less-bustling last few weeks, most of the Thunderbolts had devolved into mindless chatting during their thrice-weekly team meetings. As captain and final-event pick, Thunder had tried to steer it towards more productive things, but after they’d stumbled into an argument about the existence of aliens more than twice, they were ready to admit things weren’t working. 

“So, what are you all looking forward to when you get back to Stormholm?” Shock asked, a yawn warbling underneath their words. 

“Fewer bees,” Bolt groaned. “If I never see a bee again in my life it’ll be too soon.” 

Shock idly tapped the table with their pen as they thought. “Probably the snow. Oh, and no more events.” 

“I want to actually try that cereal bar that I endorsed,” Lightning added. 

“I miss my video games,” Zap lamented. “What about you, Thunder?” 

All eyes turned to them. Though it wasn’t something they could confess to their team, Thunder had been ready to get the League over and done with for a while. They’d come to terms with performance disappointments early on, and fought to remain optimistic through the small upturns, but in the end, they wanted to rest. 

A home-cooked breakfast. My neighbors. Knowing what I like at the store. Seeing my family without calling them. Cinnamon buns. 

Still, they put on a brave face. “Nothing, really. Buzznya is fantastic, and I’m so proud of you all—” 

“C’mon, cut the captain-y response,” Bolt interjected, followed by a chorus of agreement from the rest of the table. “There’s nothing you’re looking forward to? Really?” 

“I… fine. What I want more than anything is a nice, big, freshly-baked cinnamon bun.” 

Their confession was met with an uproar of applause, and no small amount of conspiratorial looks around the table. Thunder wondered if they’d missed something. 

“Everything alright?” they asked. 

“Well… uh, that works out pretty nicely, because we’ve got you something,” Zap said. Thunder didn’t get the chance to inquire as to what before Bolt procured a dark-blue box from underneath the table and dropped it in front of them. 

It smelled amazing. Already, they were beginning to salivate. 

“No way this is a—” 

“C’mon, open it!” Lightning urged them. 

Taking the hint, Thunder flipped the lid open. Inside the box was one giant, perfectly-baked, generously-iced cinnamon bun. 

“For you! Carbs make you go fast… I think,” Shock added. 

“Take your time. We don’t need a repeat of Shock’s Momotorway,” Bolt replied. “But, you’ve been working really hard, and we all wanted to show our appreciation, so…” 

“It’s amazing. Thank you for everything,” Thunder said, filled with an upswell of pride. “I’ll do my best tomorrow, as always.” 

“Goedspeed?” Bolt asked around the table, receiving a chorus of nods in response. 

“One, two, three. Goedspeed!” everyone exclaimed, clinking their glasses together and laughing.

Midnight Wisps

“In what world is a circuit race a good finale!?”

The typical serenity that came with a hike through nature wasn’t present today. Wispy’s constant complaints were the furthest thing from such.

“I don’t know, but you’re gonna do fine out there,” Wospy reassured, resting next to Wispy on the trail’s side. “I don’t like it either, but you’re still gonna do—”

“Horrible? Pathetic? So bad that it’s gonna give our few remaining fans another reason to call us washed?” Wispy looked up to the greenery that served as the only shield from the afternoon sunlight. “We might as well be the Midday Wisps with how we’ll never make midnight strike again…”

“I mean, it is noon—hey, what was that for!?” Wospy asked, shooting a glare to Wespy, who had just given them a firm bump.

Wespy joined the pair of marbles. “It’s been another frustrating season, so I understand where you’re coming from. But you can’t just give up.”

“We were one of the first to be eliminated from contention, we’re being forced to do an event that we’re sure to fail like Marbula One, and we’ll never be able to prove ourselves as the champions we supposedly are…” A tear rolled down Wispy’s glass as they huffed. “Do I have to show up tomorrow?”

Out of the corner of their eye they saw Waspy and Wuspy rolling down excitedly. “There’s something amazing up ahead!” Waspy exclaimed. “C’mon, let’s get moving again!”

Wispy sighed as they started the trek up the trail once more. “Do you all really think I’ll do well tomorrow?”

“Yep!” Wuspy immediately answered. “You killed it at Honeydome in Marbula One, and you’re gonna kill it again for sure!”

“So what if we can’t win anything but an event medal anymore? Even if the odds are stacked against you, that doesn’t mean you can give up before the event even starts,” Waspy said. “We may not be in a position to get another overall podium, but we can still make our statement to Marblearth.”

Wispy gave them a quizzical look. “And that would be…?”

“We’re the Midnight Wisps,” Wespy responded. “We might not be champions every year, but we don’t give up. Midnight will always come again.”

The shadows from the leaves turned into blinding sunlight as Wespy finished speaking. After taking a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, Wispy looked out ahead.

Beyond the cliff they were standing on was a breathtaking view of Buzznya’s mountains situated behind a clear lake. It reflected the peaks and the clouds above perfectly.

“It’s just like Midnight Hollow…” Wispy said, expression growing excited. “You think Buzznya has willow wisps? Can we go find them so I do well tomorrow!?”

“Who needs them for good luck? You have your Midnight Wisps cheering you on.” Wospy laughed.

Wispy pulled their teammates into an embrace, hoping the warmth of it would be able to communicate their gratitude for them.

Mellow Yellow

Yeller was not fond of interviews. 

An Amalantian television channel had rented the studio and sent a reporter over. It was only polite to attend. But they were sweating under the studio lights, and the reporter was already asking pressing questions. 

“That’s the big question, of course. You’ve never done a circuit race before, but you’re in for Honeydome. Can you tell us why you’ve taken up the mantle for the final event?” 

Yeller blinked and tried their best to think. 

“Um… I, uh…” 

---

It was a sunny August afternoon when Yellow found Yeller, pitting against a bowling machine at a local batting cage as usual. 

“Hey!” they called out. “Got a moment?” 

Yeller’s bat clattered down on the gravel as they rushed, smiling, to meet Yellow. “Always! Everything alright, Cap?” 

“All good over here. But we’ve gotta talk event allocations.”

Somehow Yeller perked up even more, enthusiasm radiating off of them in waves. Yellow passed them the event lineup document, detailing the qualifiers and League setup. 

“Obviously we’re planning for if we qualify. Afraid there’s limited individuals. But they’re adding reserves to Swing Wave—uh, Legion March Wave—so you won’t be bored.” 

Yeller smiled as they finished reading, not dissuaded at all. “Gotcha, Cap. I’ll give it my all in the Funnels, just like last year.”   

It was characteristic of Yeller to take the initiative and decide their individual event for themselves. But Yellow had something else in mind. 

“Actually…” Yellow began, “definitely take Funnels in qualifiers. But… if you think you’re up for it, I’d like it to be you in Honeydome.” 

Previously so brimming with energy that they could hardly stay still, Yeller froze in place. Only the breeze and buzz of insects betrayed the passage of time. 

“I… Cap, that’s a funny one!” Yeller eventually replied. 

Yellow bit back a frown. “I’m not kidding.” 

“Cap, uh… you really want that?” Yeller asked, staring blankly. 

“Well, why not?” Yellow laughed, feigning confidence. 

“Because I’ve never done a circuit racing track. And you have. I mean, I must’ve watched you at Short Circuit and Momotorway a thousand times each—and that’s not even counting Yellup—” 

“Yellup’s taking Hurdles and Triathlon.” 

Yeller took a deep breath. “It’s the final event, Cap. I’ll need a lot of training. You really wanna leave that up to me?” 

“Look, I’m not gonna make you if you don’t want to. It’s your choice. But I’ve had enough shots. Right now, I want you to race with some of the greats.” 

Yeller’s expression became resolute. “You’re sure?” 

“Never been surer. They’re gonna set the starting grid based on the Sand Rally results, so I’ll take that, and I’ll do my best to net you a good starting position, alright?” 

“I… Thank you, Cap. I’m gonna make you proud.” 

---

Yeller opened their eyes again, facing their interviewer with a renewed smile. 

“Well, as the greatest athlete I know said to me: why not?”

Team Momo

Why?

From sunrise to the current moment, that word had been on constant loop in Momomomo’s mind: why.

Nothing was going to get solved if they continued to stare at the sky in the hope they could turn one of the clouds into an answer. They turned away from the window to watch Momo and Mimo chatting amongst themselves.

“…why are you trusting me to do the final event?”

The sudden question immediately drew Momo and Mimo’s attention, yet they remained silent.

“It doesn’t make sense.” They paused to swallow down the sob that threatened to escape. “Just… why?”

Mimo rolled up to them and gave a gentle nudge. “It’s not like we’re playing for anything important anymore. So why not try something new?”

“You two are the ones who should be doing this.” They looked to Mimo, then to Momo. “One of the best to ever race and a Marbula One champion. You shouldn’t be allowing this—”

“You closed out last year’s Showdown so well!” Mimo interrupted. “Considering your fantastic finale performance got us that overall podium I lost in 2021… it’s an obvious choice for me on who should do this.”

Momomomo glanced at Momo. “But that means you should race, right? It only makes sense.”

“That’s exactly why I’m not doing it. If everyone expects me to do it, they won’t be prepared for you stealing the win away.”

Momomomo sighed, a faint wobble present in their voice. “I can’t shake this feeling that this is the wrong choice.”

Momo rolled away and retrieved something out of their bag. It didn’t take long for them to return with a glittering golden medal, one Momomomo recognized to be not from their surprise Relay victory but the Marbula One individual championship. 

“Try this on,” they requested, handing the medal over.

Seeing no reason to not honor their simple request, Momomomo slipped the medal’s ribbon around them. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this.”

“Just getting you used to how your gold medal is gonna look on you tomorrow,” Momo answered. “You wear victory so naturally.”

A million possible responses immediately flooded Momomomo, yet all they could do was lose the battle to hold back tears.

“Oh, Mo and Momomo just got back to me,” Mimo said. “They found a place they want us to meet up at. Who’s up for some pre-victory dumplings?”

Momo’s expression lit up. “That sounds great!” They looked at Momomomo. “You down? Perhaps good food can clear your mind of any doubts you still have.”

“I’d love that,” they answered as they grabbed the medal’s ribbon. “Let me—”

“Keep that on. No better way to show others that you’re in this to win this. Just make sure it’s still in one piece when you give it back, okay?” Momo gave them a little bump. “I’m not sure how much replacement medals cost and I’d rather not find out.”

“Understood,” Momomomo replied with the first genuine smile they’ve had all day.

Team Galactic

When Team Galactic had been given their shared room in the Athletes’ Village, the first thing Cosmo had done was set up a telescope on the balcony. They were lucky enough to be on the top floor, with the best vantage point to observe the sky above. On troubled or lonely nights, they would gaze at the seemingly infinite stars, and find their troubles humbled by the vast and grand weight of everything that surrounded them. 

Now, Starry was watching it be taken down. 

“You’re packing it up already?” they asked, startling Cosmo, who’d been approached from behind. 

“Yeah. We won’t be here much longer, and it won’t be any good tonight. I’ve cross-referenced every weather forecast available for Buzznya, and by the looks of it, heavy clouds are the best-case scenario.” 

“Oh? Were you planning to divine the stars for the winner?” Starry teased. 

Such an unscientific accusation, even one so clearly made in jest, had Cosmo blushing. “Not at all! I just… thought it might calm me down for tomorrow. Plus, I’d hardly need to look at the stars to pick the likely winner…” 

“Well, I’d like to ask you to please leave it there for the moment. Astron and I were thinking of staying for the Showdown. Who knows, perhaps I could divine the stars to find out who’s winning that?”

Cosmo obliged, pushing the part they were disassembling back into its place. “Sorry about that.” 

“No need; I never mentioned it. You’re welcome to stay too, if you’d like.” 

“I’m surprised you are, honestly,” Cosmo mused. “The Showdown’s great, but I’m exhausted. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” 

“Fine, all things considered. You know how well I’ve done at the Honeydome before, even if a climb is necessary. And on such a technical track, catching out less experienced racers should not be difficult.” 

Cosmo couldn’t help but smile. “That’s our Starry. Sometimes I think I feel all of your anxiety for you.” 

Their comment earned a frown from Starry. “I know you’re not being literal, but I’d hate to burden you with that. And I do get nervous myself, believe it or not. Rather, I think you feel that concern because you care about me.” 

Starry’s frankness made Cosmo flinch. Being a scientist didn’t make them blind to their emotions, but Starry could still paralyze them with a well-timed insight. “I… Yes, you’re probably right.” 

“And that’s what makes you captain, and me the racer. You’re the one who remembered that it was Astron’s first medal, who bought Quasar their favorite pastry, who knew Pulsar was getting sick even before they did. Your big heart.” 

“I… Thank you, Starry. You don’t know how much that means to me.” 

“They’re my sincere feelings. Now, with your stargazing ruined, let’s find a way to celebrate another night in Buzznya, hm? Maybe a calming game of chess?” 

“Hmm… I could agree to that.” 

Raspberry Racers

A bottle of raspberry-leaf tea rolled around in its carrying bag as Razzy climbed the athletes’ village stairs, one final exertion after a final day of training. They stopped lower than usual, on a floor other than their own, and knocked on an unfamiliar door. 

“Hi, Razzy. It’s good to see you again,” Pinky Toe greeted them, smiling politely. 

Razzy awkwardly returned the smile. “Could I come in? I brought some tea.” 

“Of course,” Pinky Toe replied, pulling the door too. Razzy made themself comfortable at their low table, around which Pinky Toe had arranged a series of sitting pillows, and onto which they placed the tea. 

“I have a set of teacups from home. You’re welcome to use them,” Pinky Toe said, predicting their next request. 

Razzy marveled at the delicate set of fine porcelain they produced, and poured an equal measure of tea into each cup. 

Pinky Toe drank the chilled tea slowly. “It’s wonderful.” 

Razzy smiled sincerely. “Thank you.” 

“I’m glad you’re well,” continued Pinky Toe. “I was worried about you after the Sand Rally.” 

“Don’t worry. Neither DNF injured me.” 

“It’s not that… I just hoped you weren’t taking it too poorly.” 

“It’s alright. Perhaps I can’t race as well without knowing it’s the championship at stake… But as long as I’m the one who faces the consequences of my failure, I won’t have any regrets. Though I came here to talk about you.” 

“Yeah?” Pinky Toe hummed, lowering their teacup. 

“Watching you medal in the Rally, it made me remember a rough-terrain race where you shared the podium with my team.” 

“You mean the 2019 Dirt Race?” 

Razzy nodded. “Mhm. Rozzy always spoke so highly of you after that, you know. That even while being shy on the surface, you were so strong on difficult terrain, and you never let Swifty, a seemingly unimpeachable opponent, slow you down. In fact, you sought that confrontation out. You had a special, secret fire inside you.” 

Pinky Toe laughed, blushing. “You’re flattering me, really…” 

“And then you did what I thought would never be done again—you fought for an entirely new overall podium, just like we did in 2019. I underestimated you, and for that, I owe you an apology.” 

Pinky Toe blushed even harder. “Is it really such a big deal?” 

“Of course!” Razzy exclaimed, rattling the table a little. “The League needs revolutionary teams. It needs teams that fight against every expectation. What you achieved between the Dirt Race and the 2022 Elimination Race is incredible, and the six of you fought for that all yourselves. If there’s any team that can renew the spirit of 2019, it’s you. I’m going to do my best out there tomorrow, of course… but I want to support your team, too.” 

To Razzy’s surprise, Pinky Toe sniffled a little, casting a teary gaze downwards into the dark-green tea. As if they were trying to read non-existent tea leaves. 

“When I think about it… we shared those two podiums with the Ducks, right?” 

“I… yeah. We did.” 

“Maybe it’s your rivalry that’s a good-luck charm for us.”

Razzy grinned. “Then I’ll ask Mallard and the team to cheer for both of us.” 

O’rangers

As dark clouds began to gather in the sky, a party of five found refuge in a local diner. Though it was set to close early that day, the owner ushered them in with a smile.

Wisps of steam rose from mugs of coffee as the O’rangers settled into a booth in the corner of the restaurant. They were stoically silent save for sporadic small sips. Vespa, the owner, flitted around them like an insect, placing plenty of snacks and goodies around the table.

“Anything else you O’s want? Everything’s on the house. It’s been such a long time!” they buzzed.

“Thank you for your generosity, but—” Mandarin began.

“Do you do donuts?” Clementin interrupted.

Vespa laughed. “I guess I should have seen that coming. We don’t have them on the menu, but I’ll see what I can do.” They winked, then disappeared back into the kitchen.

The team watched through the misty window pane as clouds continued to gather in the sky, enjoying the slow diner ambience without a word. The reverie was quickly broken by the reappearance of Vespa and the plume of smoke billowing from the kitchen.

“While you’re waiting, here are some sliders,” they said, placing a plate of sandwiches on the table. “If you see the Turts, tell them I said hi!”

Murmurs of thanks came from around the table. Vespa tilted their head. “You folks are a lot quieter than I remember. What’s up?”

Clementin looked at their teammates for a moment before answering. “Honestly? Staying that high energy all the time is exhausting. It’s nice to slow down now and then.”

Vespa nodded. “I get that.”

“We’ve always pushed to give 110%, y’know?” Kinnowin added. “But we’ve realized we’ve been trying too hard to be perfect.”

Tangerin nodded. “We’re not Speedy, after all.”

“Heh, yeah, that marb is pretty intense. I don’t think they’ve apologized for anything ever,” Vespa quipped.

“I don’t want to be like that.” Clementin said. “After all these years, I almost forgot the joy of just… competing. So tomorrow, I’ll be racing for the fun of it. It doesn’t matter if I win by ten seconds or if Razzy somehow passes me. I’m not going to worry about getting every little detail right.”

Clementin’s soliloquy was interrupted by the sound of Marbloid music. “Whoops, that’s my alarm! ‘Reincarnation Ringo.’ Heard the track from Royal! The Indies like it too. Be right back!” Vespa explained, before rushing back into the kitchen.

“So, you all good for tomorrow, Clem?” Orangin said quietly. Their words hung in the air like snowflakes.

“Yeah,” Clementin replied simply. They took another tiny sip of their coffee—one cream, one sugar—careful not to burn themself.

After a minute, Vespa returned carrying another plate. “Here you go, Clem!”

“This is baklava,” Clementin said flatly.

“Yeah, but I deep fried it, so it’s just as unhealthy as your beloved donuts!”

It wasn’t that funny, but Clementin snickered. Tangerin joined in. Soon, all six marbles around the table were laughing uproariously. 

“You know what?” Clementin gasped between giggles. “That’s good enough.”

Snowballs

Going out for tonight. Phone’s off. Back late. 

It was impolite to vanish the night before an event with no elaboration to their team of the where, why or when. Snowy knew that. But they couldn’t justify those things even to themself, let alone someone else. 

The number 66 bus to Buzzkill approached. Their stop was otherwise deserted, so they boarded alone. 

“You stop at the Hivedrive, right?” they asked, swiping their pass. 

“Sure, but why go there?” replied the driver. “It’s technically open for viewing, but unless you’re like one of those old folk who watch construction all day—” 

“Ticket, please,” Snowy asked, suddenly frustrated. Their obstinance earned an eye-roll, but they got their way. 

Snowy folded it away and seated themself at the very back. Despite the encroaching darkness and foreboding skies, the winding route towards Buzzkill was undeniably scenic, and Snowy gazed out of the window towards the sunset until they could disembark outside the Hivedrive. 

Already they heard the construction taking place. After falling into post-Hornets disuse, it needed repairs, though they were still able to visit the visitor section. 

Snowy followed a long hallway, emerging out onto a concrete balcony overlooking the track. Tucked in their wallet was a Rollaroid photo, taken after Hivedrive qualifiers, of them and Snowflake. Snowy took it out and held it out in front of them, to the spot where it had been taken. 

Memories began to flood back. They remembered everything. The path they took as they led Snowflake to the gate for their P1 start.  The seat from which they watched it fall apart for their teammate. The dark, hidden spot where they reassured them that nothing would ever lead Snowy to resent them. Every moment played out in front of them as if it had taken place just yesterday. 

Water was dripping onto the photo. Rain, Snowy thought. But only when they looked up and found that the clouds, though swollen and dark, had not yet yielded rain, did they recognize that they were crying.

Snowy panicked. Swiftly stowing the precious photo away from their tears, they began to berate themself silently. How pathetic, vanishing to cry over someone who’s never coming back. Hiding yourself behind taking on all of these events, as if you could fill that hole in your heart with the weight of the world—

“Snowy? You’ll catch a cold if you stay out in the rain.” 

A voice behind them, familiar from their college days. Startled, Snowy broke from their dreamlike state.

They turned and saw a white marble. 

“I thought you might come here… Your team is looking for you. They’re worried sick.”

“I’m so sorry,” they wept, and the sky burst open with a great and sudden wall of water. “Snowflake… please forgive me.” 

With their eyes clouded by tears, Snowy missed the blue and brown stripes among the white. It didn’t matter, and they shut their eyes as they rushed forward.  

“It’s okay, Snowy,“ Glide said. “There’s nothing you need to be forgiven for.” 

Rojo Rollers

Up since dawn training, the warm darkness of Rojo Dos’s room came as a relief. They threw themself on their bed, not bothering to switch the lights on or towel themselves off. 

For a while they focused just on catching their breath. Representing their team in the final event was a great privilege, even more so when a podium placement was at stake, but Dos envied those for whom the demanding training routines and constant pressure were over. 

An early night was tempting, but the growling complaints of their stomach reminded them they hadn’t eaten since midday. A busy academic career had gotten them into the habit of forgetting to refuel. They found their phone on the nightstand and turned it back on. Wary of distractions, they had left it off and locked in their room for the entire day. 

The cracked screen’s background was as it had been for years; their family at home in Numerun. But any fond reminiscing was interrupted by incoming notifications, so many in number that the phone shook in their grip. 

Their screen was wall-to-wall with messages, now. Heart pounding with anxiety—has something happened?—Dos began opening them blindly. 

Cero (old coach) 

Cero: Hi, Dos. Been a while. 
Cero: Best of luck out there. Sorry I couldn’t be the coach who brought you here. 
Cero: You really do deserve this opportunity.  

RN3

RN3: I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved as a team this year. I’ll be watching you tomorrow and cheering you on.
RN3: Best of luck. 

ROJO DOS HONEYDOME CHEERING SQUAD

Rizzy: Alright, I think that’s everyone.
Rizzy: Hi, Dos. I made this so we could all send our support in the same place. Everyone ready? 
Hop: Yep!
Hop: Go go Rojo Dos! It’s about time that everyone learned the true power of Surculo. Do your best!
Imar: The 2016 High Jump is still one of my fondest Marble League memories. You fought me until the end for that gold, and I know you can give everyone the same kind of hell out there. 
Rezzy: Ditto Imar. You’re easily the best athlete I shared the 2021 Funnels podium with. 
Mocha: …As I’m sure Rezzy meant to say, we’re behind you all the way. Nothing is impossible just because it’s difficult. You’ve got this. 
Minty Swirl: You’re going to shine out there just like you did in the Showdown. Snow would say the same.
Rizzy: Thank you, everyone. 
Rizzy: Dos, you gave me the wisdom I needed to survive one of the hardest things I ever went through. You’re among the strongest, smartest, and most resilient athletes I know. But more than anything, you’re my best friend.
Rizzy: Thank you for everything. 

The tears clouding their eyes forced Dos to stop reading. All of this support and love and they hadn’t even reached the messages from their teammates and family. Despite the difficult position they were starting in, everyone had faith in them. Everyone thought—knew—that they were strong enough. 

Thank you, everyone… I’ll do my best out there! Dos thought, their aches and anxieties suddenly far away. 

Crazy Cat’s Eyes

Spend all day doing anything but practice. You’re gonna need a clear head to win it all tomorrow.

White Eye’s words echoed in Red Eye’s mind for what had to be the thousandth time today as they stared out the window covered in raindrops. They couldn’t squeeze in just one more lap, they couldn’t obsess over the probabilities, they had to relax.

They tried to do just that. They had caught up with the Turtle Sliders early in the day when the sun was still out, they had gone down the sand hills before the rain had started, and they had even braved the elements with Speedy and Momo to sample local desserts thanks to the latter’s pleading; but peace of mind still eluded them.

A flash of light from behind the far-off silhouettes of the mountains drew their attention to it. In the reflection of the glass was another point of interest they hadn’t noticed prior: Yellow Eye.

“Hey,” they greeted. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

Unable to find a satisfactory reply, Red Eye turned their gaze back to the window, watching raindrops slowly slide down the glass in silence.

“You’re gonna do great out there. This is a chance of a lifetime… we’re finally gonna do it. We’re finally gonna stand on that podium,” Yellow Eye said, emotion clear in their voice. “We’re only one event away from our dreams becoming reality.”

“I’m not supposed to think about the race,” Red Eye replied.

“Coach didn’t say to not think about winning, right?” A sheepish laugh followed.

Red Eye sighed, looking away from the rain and towards their teammate. “Do you really think we’ll do it? I’d need to win, along with some of the teams not doing that well, it all seems—”

“More than possible,” Yellow Eye interrupted. “You have pole position from your victory in the last event. You’re the best to ever touch the track. It’s obvious that a marble who’s stood on the racer’s podium every single season they’ve competed in would—”

“It should have been you,” Red Eye interrupted, struggling to hold back tears. “It should be you racing tomorrow, it should be you to make us champions, it should be you to make Felynia proud!”

A far away rumble of thunder from over the mountains interrupted the conversation’s lull. Red Eye silently prayed it was just loud enough to conceal the quiet sobs that fell from them.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Yellow Eye said, rolling over to their teammate. “You’re absolutely the one who needs to do this. I’d just ruin everything at the last moment like I always do. We need you to be the one who finally leads us all up to the summit.”

“I don’t want to be the one to do that if it means taking your place… I just can’t…”

The strengthening pitter-patter of the rain against the window served as the only reprieve from suffocating silence; yet it was barely audible to Red Eye, their mind the furthest thing from clear.

Pinkies

Freezing cold and soaked-through in the center of Buzznya, Pinky Panther was beginning to regret not checking the weather forecast. 

They’d finished their day’s training to the tune of a gray and darkening sky—but not the obvious portent of a growing rainstorm. Thus they’d foregone anything waterproof on their day’s second trip, to a fanmeet held at a rather glitzy conference room in the business district.  

Panther had curbed their expectations for it. Almost every fanmeet held before had been a subdued event. But what they’d met with was unexpected; a sea of baby-pink formed from marbles, a wall of excited cheering reaching fever-pitch as they parted the crowd and strode towards the stage. I never knew so many Rosakans lived in Buzznya, they’d thought. 

But as they’d signed merch and made small talk, something strange emerged. Pace, Draklin, Jamarbla, Quixote… somewhere, somehow, things had changed. Pinkies fans weren’t just Rosakans, gritting their teeth and backing their home team. They were from everywhere, and there were so many of them.  

Dizzied by that realization, they’d lost hours amongst the jubilation, hours where the weather outside wasn’t so catastrophic. Now they were waiting at a seemingly-frozen stop sign, watching it stubbornly refuse to turn red as raindrops pelted hard onto the pavement. 

Removed from that atmosphere, they felt oddly deflated. In the moment it had felt good to be so loved, to realize how the championship had attracted an entirely new generation of fans. But the cold made them somber. Every fan who supported them not out of obligation, but out of admiration, came with high expectations. Expectations that, if they were to disappoint, might ruin someone’s trip halfway around the world. 

A red light flashed in the periphery. Panther crossed, lost amidst the crowd. In Buzznya, street crossings weren’t white-and-black, they were yellow-and-black. 

All you have to do to secure third is stay two places ahead of the Bees. Don’t get distracted fighting Red Eye. 

They remembered Promise’s advice. Not much different from the year before. 

All you have to do to win is outlast Starry and Shimmer. Be clever, not fast. 

A successful championship bid. The best circuit racer on the team. They were the obvious closer. What could explain the strange sickness that came with knowing exactly who they’d have to fight to stand on a second overall podium?  

Perhaps it was akin to the weather unfolding around them. Pathetic fallacy, as Rosa had called it, explaining the mood of an ambitious kapinki dance. They had stepped out into a grim and unremarkable day that had turned into the eye of a great storm—somehow slowly enough that they could neither escape nor object. Now they had to learn to survive it. 

Their tram stop was in sight; a much-needed relief. Panther exhaled, watching their breath turn to mist in front of them. 

I can do it. After all, I’ve got no choice. 

Bumblebees

On stormy days, Bumble would watch the water drip down the window, tracing the path the raindrops made as they raced downwards. Tonight was no different. The raindrop they were following now was particularly reluctant to obey gravity, meandering towards the windowsill at a sluggish pace. Oh, now it was stuck.

“Your tea has to be cold by now.”

A black uniform interspersed with yellow accents, the inverse of their own, hovered in Bumble’s periphery. “I’ll pour myself a new cup later,” they replied absentmindedly, still staring at the window.

“What’s wrong?”   

Another raindrop collided with the stuck raindrop, the added weight of water yanking them both down in an accelerated dive. Bumble snapped out of their stupor. “Huh?”

“They’re worried. You’re spacing out.” It had been Stinger standing there, holding their own mug of tea.

Bumble shrugged. “It doesn’t usually rain this hard. It’s about time I started ruminating, too.”

Stinger set their mug down. Unlike Bumble’s, steam still curled from the liquid. “You’re our best racer, and you know this track better than anyone else,” they said matter-of-factly. “If anyone can clinch us the win, it’s you.”

A pause, then Bumble cracked a smile at the encouragement. “No wonder you were captain.”

It was Stinger’s turn to freeze. “What does that have to do with the race?”

“Nothing. I appreciate you thinking I can clinch the win, though.”

“You’re still worried.”

Bumble took a sip of their cold tea, trying to suppress the waver in their voice. “Yeah. This storm’s not a good omen, right? Bees can’t fly in the rain.” As if on cue, there was a low rumble of thunder. “It’s okay if it’s misty—I’m talking about the weather—but a torrent like this? It glues their wings to their bodies and knocks them to the ground.” At the window, another water droplet buckled under its own weight, plummeting down into the darkness. “This is the closest we’ve ever gotten. I can’t afford to slip up.”

“You told us we’d make this a Marble League worth remembering,” Stinger rebutted, watching the window with them. “We did; you led us here. And even if the Speeders get a third trophy, this has been a League to remember. A patchwork team of former rivals, succeeding on home turf? Who would’ve thought?”

“Well…”

“We’re stronger than we ever were as separate teams,” they continued. “I’m glad I could be a part of this. I’m glad for this second chance—I mean, I even got that Triathlon medal that I missed last time.” Stinger laughed a little. “Thank you for that, captain. I’m proud to call myself a Bumblebee.”

Bumble stared back in gratitude and shock. “Of course I’m going to give it my all, but if it’s not enough…“

“I’ve got your back,” Stinger affirmed easily. “We all do.”

The rain hadn’t stopped, but it no longer invaded the corners of Bumble’s mind as it did before. “Thank you, Stinger. I’ll be sure to make it a race to remember.”

Savage Speeders

Speedy opened their eyes.

They had been trying to sleep for hours. They were dead tired from strategizing and practicing earlier in the day, but sleep still evaded them. Looking out the window, they saw the rain that started in the evening kept pouring in incessant sheets. Lightning struck in the distance, making the window rattle.

Speedy was about to close their eyes again when they heard a pattern of rolling they could recognize anywhere. Then, a knock at the door.

“Come in, Rapidly,” Speedy said.

The door creaked open, then clicked shut. Speedy didn’t turn around, but sat up in bed and wrapped the blanket around themself like a shawl.

“Can’t sleep?” Rapidly asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mhm. I don’t know why,” Speedy mumbled.

“Nervous about tomorrow?”

“No. I’ve been training all day.”

“Even though you’re third from the back?”

“I’ve made up positions before, it’s not a problem.” Speedy’s voice rose, even though they didn’t mean for it to.

Rapidly moved to sit on the edge of the bed. They were silent for a moment before saying, “Is it not a problem, or are you ignoring it so it can’t be a problem?”

“Whatever,” Speedy scoffed. They had half a mind to kick Rapidly out to try and sleep again, and another to ask them to stay and talk the whole night.

Silence settled over the room again, save for the rain. Suddenly, a thought that’d been bubbling since the end of M1 boiled to the surface of Speedy’s mind.

“I’m sorry,” they said.

“…It’s okay. I get it, you’re grumpy from the lack of sleep,” Rapidly said, surprised.

“Not just that. I’m sorry for how I treated you this summer. During M1.” They felt Rapidly’s gaze on them. Speedy continued, “I was upset about the roster changes and I didn’t know how to express it. I didn’t want to worry you or Swifty. I thought if I just focused on myself it wouldn’t affect anything. But that was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Rapidly said nothing, and for a moment Speedy wondered if they’d upset them. Then Rapidly spoke up, voice thick. “Thank you, Speedy. I really appreciate it.” They tapped Speedy’s side and for the first time that night, Speedy looked their sibling in the face.

“You don’t have to go through anything alone,” Rapidly said warmly. “Even tomorrow. If there’s a problem, you tell me, okay?”

Speedy nodded, even though they knew in the back of their mind they wouldn’t.

Rapidly seemed to sense their insincerity anyway, and their expression shifted minutely. “We’re all here for you, no matter what happens,” they affirmed.

In the quiet that followed, the fatigue from the day hit Speedy like a truck. Their eyelids were heavy and it took great effort to stay upright. As they laid back down on the bed, they felt Rapidly roll off it. The door opened and closed, and Speedy closed their eyes in turn.

When they woke up seven hours later, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. Dawn had arrived again, its light diffused in the heavy cloud cover.

Credits

• Writers: Flamigiri, Evolution, Millim, Momoikkai, Toffeeshop
• Additional Writing: Pesky
• Copyeditors/Editors: Evolution, Millim, Stynth
• Artist: Momoikkai
• Reference: Marble League 2023
• Release: 9/12/2023