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“My stallion genes tell me that I'll heal in no time!” Delusional, as always. Gold Ship never minded adversity. This was for a good cause, she told herself.
McQueen still looks quite upset, though, so Gold Ship adds on, “It’s all so you can win against Teio, right? Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
“I broke your rib cage.”
Gold Ship sits up. “A small price to pay for your success, I guess.” A ghost of a smile appears on her face. “Don’t look so sad, Mac-chan.”
A scoff or an exhausted sigh, Gold Ship couldn’t tell. But McQueen pulled up one of the many waiting chairs. Gold Ship blinked before smirking. “You still want me even when I’m injured. Call that hashtag aura!”
“Don’t make me second-guess myself,” McQueen said before finally sitting down. “I’m the reason you’re here. Like any member in the Mejiro family, I, too, can take responsibility.”
“But it’s fine,” a little rushed and sour, Gold Ship sputtered. “I wouldn’t want this any other way. Well, probably. I like having a functioning spine—but seriously! It felt like you…” Gold Ship stopped.
McQueen raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.
Words, however, aren’t really Gold Ship’s forte. At least when her heart is on the line. A thin, worn, sad excuse of a heart. Gold Ship pushed on regardless. “You know! I was the disposable glove at your crime scene. And thank god I’m there, because those fingerprints are the only clue to solving anything.” Looking at McQueen's face, Gold Ship quickly added, "Metaphorically, of course!”
It was weird, what happened next. Gold Ship watched McQueen. She always did. But this time, her hand reached for hers. And when McQueen’s fingers brushed, then slid, all sense made no sense. Interlocking hands like this.
“...I don’t know why you think this way.”
“Huh?! I’m being honest! What do you—”
McQueen’s hands tightened. “I want you to listen to me, Gold Ship.” Their hands, still locked, lowered from the air. “I have no reason to dispose of you. As much as you infuriate me…” And soon, those hands lay on their side, resting against the bed sheets.
A rollercoaster. Gold Ship opened her mouth, probably to babble on about something stupid. But then she felt her pathetic heart dance on a line. So she stayed silent. Are you sure you’re telling the truth, Mac-chan? I didn’t know you felt that way. The words were right there, so why? Why was her palm sweating, and suddenly she didn’t know where to look?
“Irreplaceable,” McQueen hushed. It was quiet and pure. “You are irreplaceable.”
That was the first time someone had said that to Gold Ship.
She looked stupid, that's for sure. Mouth agape and palms still sweaty. Everything slowed within her head, trying to understand. Gold Ship still wasn't past holding hands. McQueen tilted her head ever so slightly, snapping Gold Ship back into reality.
“That is why you mustn't say silly things,” she said, ever so earnestly.
And so her heart agreed. It slowed and stopped acting like a fool. But was that worth seeing McQueen’s hands peel themselves away from hers? A slow dance of absence. Still in striking distance, but so separated. Too much space.
I wanted to hold your hands for longer. A thought slipped out from Gold Ship’s brain. I wanted you to talk to me for longer, McQueen. In the back of her mind, she was being probed with a realization.
But there wasn’t any time left. Gold Ship couldn’t be babied forever. So when McQueen left her all alone in the boring and uneventful hospital room, in her boring and uneventful state, everything seemed worse.
She leaned against the stiff pillow, only for a sharp pain in her back to take over. A cough followed, then another. Gold Ship had winced, but she was fine, she told herself. All was good.
She opened her eyes. There was blood on the sheets. Tiny patches, but just tiny enough to detect them. Blood was on her forearm, too.
“Hah…” Her other hand lifted. It stopped just above her other arm. “What’s wrong with me today?” she wondered, before smudging the blood into her skin.
And so, her fate was sealed.
For the rest of the night, she thought she was going to die. So many times did breathing hurt, so many times did her back go stiff, then ache. Lying on any side was painful. Not a wink of sleep. The fruits of training.
It wasn’t long before it was morning. The sun shone on Gold Ship. Her hair was ruffled, and she was breathing slowly. The lovely day was crowded with doctors. Something about Gold Ship’s condition. How much blood she threw up. Something, something… Gold Ship wasn’t listening.
Instead, she looked up at a TV. It wasn’t big at all, and it perched itself in the corner of the hospital room. It was really convenient that it was already on the racing broadcast. The Spring Tenno Sho… If McQueen won this, she’d defeat Teio and win the whole shablam twice in a row.
The broadcast hovered over to the starting gate, giving a quick synopsis of all the Umamusume. McQueen and Teio got the longest ones, of course. That made Gold Ship smile. To tell the truth, Gold Ship couldn’t help but be envious of Teio. They completed each other perfectly. Headstrong, confident, and charming in their own ways.
And then, there was herself. Gold Ship. Wacky, spontaneous, keeping you forever guessing. “I guess… we were too different, after all,” she said. Her head lowered a bit, still looking at the screen. “It’s too bad.”
The race started. Everyone got off to amazing starts. Gold Ship clenched her fist. The doctors kept talking; it was irritating. All she could think about was the race. Let me enjoy this.
Her breath got shaky. Let me enjoy feeling needed for the first time in my life.
I was needed.
A small cough. Let me watch something go right, knowing that I helped. Another cough.
Please—
“Ack—!” Gold Ship hurled inwards. Something was inside her. She could feel it. It hurt, oh, it hurt. What was going on?
The doctors told her to lean back. They tried to force her back. But when she leaned up, that thorn in her side wiggled its way deeper. What is going on? What is happening? I'm stronger than this, right?
Gold Ship tried to look at the screen, still. McQueen was ahead, Teio trailing behind. There wasn’t a whole lot of separation; it can go either way. Gold Ship’s gaze softened. The turf was green. Such a pretty green. And her clothes? Blood-stained. Nothing pretty about it.
One breath too much, and her hands flew for her throat. Her eyes were on the ceiling. It hurt to look, so Gold Ship closed her eyes. She could feel that ache in her back from last night. She was being stepped on. By McQueen.
McQueen…
The same girl she got on her knees for, so she could run. Run without a care in the world.
Gold Ship wanted to scream. You idiot, she yelled interneally. You damn idiot. You chased too far. Why did you try to touch the stars without a rocketship?
Less than 200 meters.
Struggle, strangle. The universe had its way of saying what it wanted. Perhaps Gold wasn’t suited to be much else than a friend. Were they even friends? Who knows.
Who knows…
—
Cameras flashed, and reporters all shoved their way to Mejiro McQueen. So many questions, and McQueen did no less to answer them all. One in particular had caught her interest. The man beamed while being swallowed by the crowd. He spoke, “How has the support of Team Spica pushed you through to take over your second consecutive win at the Tenno Sho?”
Support. McQueen smiled.
Her eyes drifted to the man, beginning to answer, when someone in her peripheral vision appeared. It was Trainer-san. He looked as smug as ever and waved. “Hoo, no wonder they call ya McQueen.”
“Thank you, Trainer.” But when he got close, his expression became more unreadable. Between a laugh and ugly sob or desperate wail. “Did my racing inspire you?” McQueen asked.
Trainer put his arm around McQueen’s shoulders. He turned both of them away from the crowd. “I’m so proud,” he uttered. “So proud…”
McQueen could only look at him. “Trainer,” she spoke. “I don’t…”
“Gold Ship is proud of you, too.” He held his head down.
“I’m sure she…” McQueen, for once, came to a full stop. Her life did. She wanted to drag herself away from him. “I know she’s proud of me. I’m going to see her.”
But her legs didn’t move. She wasn’t too tired from racing, no. She trained better than that.
Fear is what kept her still. “I’m going to see her,” she repeated.
But the crowd died down at the sudden changes. Trainer-san didn’t change his position. McQueen kept her stance.
She couldn’t turn back or go forward. Just stay put.
Stay put for the inevitable she’d hear.