While Rosaka had a karaoke bar on every block and street corner, Glidavik had only one, a small place hidden underneath a busy city street mostly popular with students and the occasional Rosakan tourist. A limited offering wasn’t going to stop the Pinkies from celebrating a win in their usual fashion, however, and in the quieting darkness of the night, Pinky Winky strolled down to the small neon sign announcing the existence of the venue, later than the rest of their team for having freshened up after the event.
The bar consisted only of a lobby, three singing rooms and a hidden kitchen. Whoever was meant to be at the front desk-slash-bar had deserted the post, and thus the lobby was empty—or at least they thought before they saw Ounce waiting in one of the leather chairs.
Winky startled briefly, but quickly composed themself before Ounce could take their eyes off of their phone. “Hey, Ounce. What are you doing here?”
Ounce looked up from where they sat. “Oh! Good to see you. You might be able to guess, but I’m here to sing karaoke.”
Winky smiled and drew closer, thoughts of a drink or meeting their team briefly put aside. “Is Gloomo here with you? I’m here with my team, you know.”
“I’m afraid not,” Ounce replied. “I did chat with them, though. Thought of asking them, but then they said they have their own celebration plans.”
“You’re with your team, then?” asked Pinky Winky.
Ounce smiled meekly, averting their gaze slightly. “It’s just me, actually. I quite like karaoke—I got good at it while I was visiting relatives in Rosaka. Or, I think I did.”
Pinky Winky entertained themself briefly with the image of Ounce in Rosaka, enjoying the cherry blossoms, before they dwelled on the fact they were here alone. “So, you’re too embarrassed to sing in front of your team? I understand.”
“A bit of that, and I’m not sure if they’d want to join even if I asked.”
“But isn’t Siren a professional singer?” asked Pinky Winky. By then the staff at the bar had returned, but neither paid them any mind yet.
“Singers have to preserve their voices.”
“Well, I’m terrible at karaoke whether I preserve my voice or not, so why not come and join us? It’ll save you some money,” Pinky Winky replied.
Ounce thought on the proposition briefly before nodding. “Sure. You owe me a drink, though, how about that?”
“I can agree to that,” Pinky Winky replied, signalling to the bartender. “An iced tea for us both, please!”
–
Miles away from the karaoke bar, in the guts of the Moraine Domain, a much less fortunate team gathered not to sing but for an emergency meeting. All members of the Indigo Stars bar Diego were gathered around a formal and utilitarian office table, the atmosphere drowned in solemn disappointment.
Having reached an impasse in discussing their downturn, Ringo was attempting to corral them back to productive discussion. “Look, we can’t just wallow in this,” they declared, “we just have to figure out why.”
“Because we’re hopeless in the winter,” Bingo surmised.
“Because we’re hopeless in any case,” retorted Gogo.
“Let’s face it—we’re doomed, completely doomed,” added Indie to the chorus of miseries.
Ringo sighed and faced down to the desk. “See, this is what happens when Diego isn’t here.”
“Well, what do you want us to do about it? Two nul-points three events in. This is—”
“You’ll do twenty laps each, outside, and then we’ll talk about this again.”
“What!?” the rest of the table exclaimed in unison. But Ringo would not budge.
“Now!” they barked. “And no fudging the numbers.”
Meanwhile, atop the stadium roof, Diego peered over the banister at the out-of-season snow falling over the city. Though it chilled the air, it hardly stuck to the ground, each flake gradually melting away.
Only temporary, they thought, swallowed by the silence of night.
—
Its growth constrained to the shore of a frozen island in the ocean, Glidavik was a much more modest city than those of previous Leagues. Nevertheless, Mellow Yellow could always find somewhere interesting to hang out. This time was a wood-and-leather bar near the airport, mostly trafficked by tourists and buzzing with post-event energy. A baseball game from back home in Amalanta played over the booth television, watched whenever the team were free from the attention of fans and staff alike.
Having just won the team’s first Ice Dash medal, Yellow’s face was decorated with a smile; the familiar grin that had been absent for so long. “It’s not so bad, huh? Showing up in the Showdown,” they proclaimed, toasting to their success with a mugful of tart berry juice.
Yellup, sitting to their right, laughed as their drinks clinked together. “You’re lucky,” they protested in jest. “You medalled, and I lost out to Ounce. Ounce!”
Across from them by the mouth of the booth, Yeller snorted and thumped the table in mock-protest. “What’s with the hating on Ounce? Ounce is cool. Cooler than you.”
“I suppose we’re doing alright,” Yellah added. “We should’ve gone to Rollorado to train in the first place. Worry less about business and more about qualifying.”
“Well, we’re here now,” replied Yellow, mood only slightly dampened.
To their left was Yellim, who hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived, preferring instead to gaze half-focused at a party of somber orange-clad fans occupying the venue’s center table. When Yellow looked they found them locked in heated debate, too distant to hear but familiar enough for Yellow to guess.
“Besides,” they added, “could be worse, huh?”
–
Mellow Yellow hadn’t left the athletes’ village to celebrate just on a whim. Back at base, the heating was sputtering, leaving the rest of the podium to seek warmth where they could find it. In the Swarm dorm, a single valiant space heater sat in the middle of the room, spitting out orange-hot heat as Glimmer and Shimmer passively shuffled closer and closer towards its cozy embrace.
“And you told me not to buy it,” Shimmer joked, angling just so their breath turned to crystals in the cold air.
“Because we’re technically not allowed to have it,” countered Glimmer.
Blustering past Glimmer’s reminder of the dorm rules, Shimmer just smiled. “Another tally on the ‘Shimmer Is Always Right’ chart, thank you.”
Neither had the energy to get up for the unexpected knock on the door that followed. “Come in,” Shimmer shouted, “door’s unlocked.”
So cold was Rojo Dos in the light of the heating failure that they’d turned a shade closer to Azul Dos, and they all but forced themself in front of the warm breath of the heater before either Marbeat could object.
“Much better,” they sighed as they scooted as close as comfortably possible.
Shimmer and Glimmer exchanged bemused glances. “You’re always welcome here, Dos, especially after today, but how did you know we have a heater…?”
“Oh, that,” Dos giggled. “It’s funny, but I can actually smell heat. Really! Ever since I was a young marble.”
“That’s…” Shimmer shrugged. “Sure. Happy to have you. But don’t tell anyone else!”
Credits
- Writers: Millim
- Copyeditors/Editors: Evolution
- Reference: Marble Race: ❄️ ML Snowdown ❄️ E3 Shorttrack ⛸️ | Marble Race: ❄️ ML Snowdown ❄️ E4 5m Ice Dash
- Release: 22/05/2025
Project Marblearth 