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A quarter to one o'clock with a crescent moon high up in the sky, a lone runner in orange finishes her stretches on a desolate track. Despite the chilly winds and wet polyurethane, she is dressed as usual for the occasion. With her palms on the wet ground and hips poised up, Jovial Merryment takes a dash with the queue of a silent starting pistol.
It is only when Merryment finishes her 2nd lap going into her 3rd when another horse happens to stroll by and notice her eager, yet powerful steps.
“Oi! What’cha doing in the middle of the night, Merry?” a runner in a blue tracksuit shouts. Merryment comes to a slow and steady stop like a well-planned driver before looking back at the speaker.
“Ah, if it isn’t Bullet’n Board! What may you be doing at such an hour, if I may ask?”
“Haah, didn’t’cha mum raise you to not reply to a question with a question?” Bullet’n Board quips back. “I was just pickin’ up some stuff from home to the dorms.” Saying this, she lifts up and roughly shakes her hefty backpack to make a point.
“Right, you recently moved into the dorms,” Merryment says, stretching her arms once more as she walks off of the track towards her conversational partner. “I just couldn’t get myself to fall asleep, so I was running some laps to clear my mind. Additional practice can’t hurt, can it?”
“My, a junkie for runner’s high, eh? I’m surprised ya couldn’t fall asleep, though; thought a champion like you would know when to rest up. Next race ain’t far, y’know?”
“Ahaha, thank you for the kind tips, Bullet’n Board,” Merryment chuckles back with a bit of a gloomy expression. “Wish I could do just that, but it doesn’t always go as planned, you know?”
Saying this, she picks up her water canister and plops herself down on a bleacher. Bullet’n Board quickly follows suit, sitting next to her although with ample space between the two.
“...something nagging ya, Merry?”
“Ah, no, you needn’t worry, Bulle-”
“Oi! Cut that out, eh?” Bullet’n booms with a clomp on the concrete beneath the two. “Gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth when I win against such a glum competitor in this week’s race. What, worried about losing?”
Merryment then twists open her bottle and takes a good, well-deserved swig before sighing.
“...truth is, that’s exactly it,” she says with a defeated look. “So many people cheering for me these days, it scares me to think of what they’ll think when they see their betted horse flail about in the fields.”
“Bah, get your head out of there. You don’t see my fans nagging my ass when I happen to do bloody poor out there. Besides, I’m gonna beat you one race or another—done it before and you know it’s coming again, so why worry about it now?”
“It’s not the same, Bullet’n Board!” Merry coughs out. “Most of them really only like me because I’m the ‘winning horse’ these days. Without the carrots in my hand, I’m nothing.”
Hearing that, Bullet’n takes a deep drag of the air with shut eyes, the cool winds fluttering her hair and tail in the night sky like a forgotten flag before taking a big step forward, standing up high.
“When’s the last time you ran for fun, Merry?”
Merry only replies with a sour expression towards the ground below with palms locked together, before Bullet’n tosses off her tracksuit jacket onto the bleachers and starts stretching her legs.
“Care for a few laps?”
“Bullet’n Board, I apologize-”
“Ope, enough of that, Merry,” she hushes, bringing out her hand before hoisting the runner in orange off her seat. “And just call me Bullet’n from now on, yea? Uncomfortable having my rival so stiff with me.”
The two set themselves next to each other on the track before palming the still-damp ground.
“I, Jovial Merryment, shall best you in this race once more, Bullet’n!”
“Chatter all ya want, big girl. On my count, yea?”
Positioning their hips and legs for takeoff, Bullet’n gives a nice and clear countdown before the two dash off into the night air.
“That’s the champion I love n’ hate, alright.”