(Design Credit: Yume)
Watching Red Eye, Bumble and Pinky Panther vanish with their coaches into the podium preparation room, one they hadn’t come close to stepping into themselves, left Speedy feeling strangely deflated. Another championship was on the line and they’d only advanced a single place in the order. Keeping the overall bronze was a cold comfort, though they were sure they’d feel differently on the podium later.
It was Rapidly who approached them first after the race, bringing them off to the side.
“You did your best out there,” they said quietly. “Don’t let anything anyone says get to you.”
“It wasn’t enough,” Speedy mourned. “What happened to me out there? I couldn’t even overtake Razzy.”
“You know… Whether you want to hear it or not, you’ve been working hard this season. We couldn’t have gotten this far without you as captain, so don’t write this off as something you’ve failed at.”
“Red Eye’s captain too,” Speedy muttered obstinately. “Bumble as well.”
“Well, we’re still on the podium, so we’ll beat them when we see them next year.”
Though they remained sulky, Rapidly seemed to have gotten the last word over Speedy, who went obligingly quiet. In the distance, almost too far away to hear, a familiar bell rang.
“Sounds like they’re getting everyone ready,” Rapidly muttered. “Let’s muster a little enthusiasm for them, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. I promise.”
Everything since they’d crashed into the basin of the elevator was only a blur. They were waiting with Bumble and Red Eye to be admitted onto the podium and receive their medals, but they could hardly remember how they had got there. At some point Pinky Toe and Pinky Promise had joined them backstage, along with Queen and White Eye.
A second final-event bronze was theirs. But with Bumble grabbing the silver, it wasn’t enough. A sheepish smile was all Pinky Panther could offer their captain and coach.
“Have you ever heard the expression, to win the battle but lose the war?” they joked, feeling horribly awkward.
“It’s the other way around,” Pinky Toe corrected them. “But more importantly than that… You haven’t lost anything.”
“Except a podium spot.”
“Maybe. But if you knew we would one day get fourth in the League back in 2020… That would feel like an impossible victory, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t be harsh on yourself,” added Promise. “You fought hard out there. Nobody could say you didn’t want to win.”
Before Panther could reply, Red Eye took their attention with a brief nudge. They were utterly composed, resplendent in their victory. And yet to Panther’s surprise, Red Eye bowed slightly before they could ask what the matter was, deferring both to them and Pinky Toe.
“It was an honor to race against you. And it’s an honor to inherit the championship from your team. You’ve been worthy opponents.”
“I… thanks, Red,” Panther stammered, though they were secretly relieved. “Hey, have fun finding confetti in everything you own for a month.”
A bell rang, and a steward began to shepherd Pinky Toe away from them, leaving just the racers and their coaches.
“Looks like it’s time.”
As they were led away from backstage and towards the final pre-podium holding pen, Bumble watched Stinger’s shape fade into the distance. Soon it was only them, Queen, and the other racers who had made their way onto the final podium.
Since the end of the GP they had been running on fumes. They had done what they needed to do, and they had little else to give. It hardly occurred to them that Red Eye was trying to catch their attention until they received a light tap to their left side.
“How are you feeling?” they asked, somewhat awkwardly. It was a question Bumble had to sit with for a while. When they’d left the track they hadn’t really felt anything. Not in the abstract sense, at least; they’d felt the urgency of everything and the sudden slowness surrounding them, but they hadn’t really been in the mindset for introspection.
Now, though, with everything finally at its end—whatever that looked like—how did they feel?
For so long they had lived in the ambiguity of promise and potential; chasing points and placements in every event, always trying to get ahead. Now, for them, the score was settled. It recalled in some strange way the M1 race that had made the greatest impression on them, their DNF at Misty Mountain. Everything was moving until it wasn’t, the momentum stolen out from under their wings at just the wrong time. Unable to move any further, what could they do?
“I feel… strange. I don’t know.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but Red Eye didn’t seem to mind. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to race alongside you at home. And thank you for your hospitality.”
“And I’m happy to have hosted you here.” Though Red Eye had taken the top step of the podium, they couldn’t bring themselves to resent them. “I…I hope it’s something you’ll remember fondly.”
“I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”
A second bell rang, and the six of them were shepherded from the holdings out to the three steps of the podium.
As the season’s final podium-sitters came into view, a roar of applause bloomed throughout the spectating crowd. Red Eye spent the slow climb up to the podium’s top step with their gaze fixed on the Crazy Cat’s Eyes’ section, watching as if they could zero in on their elation alone. There would be more to come later; they did not have to drink as if parched. But they did, rejoicing in how the familiar feeling of victory had been a thousand times amplified.
It didn’t need a closing ceremony; they’d seen the numbers and they’d heard the cheering. The Crazy Cat’s Eyes were the 2023 Marble League champions. The first of the day’s gold medals was draped around them as they waved to the crowd that adored them and the team they captained wholly, receiving a second intense roar of applause in return.
How amazing it feels, Red Eye thought to themselves. And how perfect it is!
One deep breath in, one deep breath out.
It’s finally over.
Far from the now-empty podium and the delirious joy of the home crowd, Frost had found themselves a solitary hideaway within the stadium’s insides in which to catch their breath. An unlit dead-end corridor, dark and cool, suited them just fine, and for a while- five minutes, half an hour, it was impossible to tell- they shut their eyes and rejoiced silently that their imperfect efforts had just barely managed to raise the Glaciers out of last place.
They were precariously awake when a familiar voice rang distantly through the empty space, slowly rousing them. As they gradually awoke they came to recognize their own name being called.
“Frost? Can you hear me? Frosty?” It was Glide’s voice, no doubt about it.
“Over here,” Frost called out.
When Glide arrived, they found Frost silent and slumped in the corner.
“Thought I’d lost you. You look beat.”
“I am. Please don’t make me get ready for the closing ceremony.”
Glide tutted cheerfully. “Afraid I have to. But you can take a nap after, alright?”
Woozy and reluctant, Frost nonetheless got back up and allowed Glide to lead them deeper into the Superhive’s guts. Only when they reached an unmarked meeting room did they realize that they had been led in the opposite direction of the changing rooms.
“This isn’t—” they objected, but Glide cut them off.
“Just sit down,” they said as they opened the door and hurried Frost in.
Sat around a table in front of a projector were the rest of their team, all looking equally clueless. Polite applause rumbled throughout the room as they took the last remaining seat.
“Now we’re all here…” Glide mumbled, then trailed off. The projector kicked to life as they got behind their laptop. “Team, I know it’s not been a good year for us. We all did our best, but things didn’t work out like we planned. As your coach, I hope what I’m about to show you can make up for it.”
A photo of the team together, taken earlier that year, flashed onto the screen. They had all already seen it. What was new was the text overlay, which read in bold text-
“Gliding Glaciers – Your 2024 Marble League hosts!”
All thoughts of fifteenth place dissolved as the room erupted with cheers, celebration, and the promise of another year of fierce competition to come.
Dear Em,
I would like to first apologize for not writing back sooner. No other fanmail has had such a profound impact on me. It took until our relay gold to begin collecting my thoughts, and until now to finish writing them. Even though I’ve spent years healing, it’s still difficult to recall the months after my injury. I’m sure you understand.
When I was in hospital, I was surrounded by so much love and support. I am truly sorry you didn’t have that. I am blown away by the resilience and determination you had to push through it all by yourself. Though I am truly humbled to have inspired you to keep pushing then, the strength came from you and you alone. You are truly remarkable.
One of the doctors told me during my recovery that I was less than a millimeter away from never being able to compete in marble sports again. At the time I brushed it off. I didn’t see how lucky I was. I don’t know what I would have done in your position. Your optimism, your determination, and your sense of wonder are irreplaceable gifts. Hold on to them. I have no doubt in my mind that, one day, I’ll be seeing you on the League’s medical staff.
It’s an honor to be part of your favorite team, and a greater one to be your favorite athlete.
Sincerely,
Momomomo
P.S. I’ve included a copy of our best dumpling recipe. Keep it a secret!
Credits
- Writers: Millim, Yume
- Copyeditor/Editor: Stynth
- Artist: Momoikkai
- Graphic Designer: Yume
- Reference: Marble League 2023 FINAL Event 16: Honeydome GP + Closing Ceremony! | Jelle’s Marble Runs
- Release: 22/11/2024
Project Marblearth 