Sometimes later, in the school...
In the far corner sat Urara, her cheek pressed against the desk, eyelids drooping dangerously as her history teacher droned on with the lecture.
Unlike Urara, across the room, Mary sat upright, her eyes stern, focusing on what had been taught by their teacher, and taking notes on the other hand.
Meanwhile, Urara was already nodding off, fighting her urge to simply melt on the desk.
To keep herself awake, she peeked toward Mary. Muttering under her breath, "I must apologize", her little fists clenched beneath her desk.
"If I don't, Mary-chan might not consider me her friend anymore. Urara must apologize!"
And so there she waited... and waited... and waited....
and waited...
But the moment never came.
Eventually, the final bell rang, before Urara could approach Mary, Mary had already packed up and left for training, or perhaps ran to the training. Seemingly wanting to escape before the approach of that pink gremlin.
Still relentless, Urara wished to linger further until Mary finished her training, that was.
But then she recalled... The strict warning from her mother about the evening curfew because of yesterday.
She could do nothing but frown.
Suddenly—
She slapped herself on the face, startling the nearby classmates.
"No!" she told herself, clenching her small hands into fists, "Urara will try again tomorrow! Urara will keep trying until she can say her sorry!" she declared, again startling the nearby classmates who were still packing.
"But first… Urara needs a good night's sleep to recover from those long, hard-earned studies! After all, she deserved it!" Urara continued with her chest puffed confidently.
With that, she frolicked her way home from school while humming. Nothing came before her empty mind.
Meanwhile...
On the other side of the yard, ran Mary. Her mind was stuffed with her mistake, but also the stinging words from her father.
She must be perfect, no matter the past, no matter the cost; she must keep training, to keep performing, to keep pushing until she reaches... she becomes... PERFECTION.
With those words repeated in her mind, hours felt like seconds, and night crept in before Mary could lift her head.
As usual, she was once again the last to leave the school grounds.
Like yesterday, her training ended under the dark sky, sweat dripping down her neck, muscles aching from the excessive training.
She walked slowly toward her home, first to the train station, then to her street. Her breath was stable, yet her mind replayed her father's corrections over and over.
On the spur of the moment, as the familiar street drew closer, a strange unease erupted in her chest.
Her right eye twitched involuntarily, her hands were shaky and cold, while her ears quivered, a signal she couldn't explain.
Something felt wrong. Or terribly wrong.
As her weary legs carried her home, her house slowly faded into her sight.
Then, she would pause at the entrance of her house, as usual, to keep her composure before entering.
Yet, it was different today, the gate loomed more menacingly, like the mouth of a trap.
Then, her mind screamed in protest, calling her to run away, run far away from the gate beyond.
She mustn't go in! She must run away! She must ESCAPE!
As quickly as those agitations crawled within, she shook them off like nothing and went for the knob immediately.
Her hand hovered above the door handle—then began to tremble violently again.
The sight startled her. My hand? She was confused.
She then wrapped her wrist with her other hand, trying to relax it, but the tremor just wouldn't stop.
"Wh— What? Why…? Why am I afraid?" Mary said to herself.
Only when she started to press it hard did the hand quiet down; the shaking finally dulled.
To lullaby herself from such distress, a message from her father repeated in her mind, Calm. Composure is the key to virtue. No matter how stressful, no matter how suffocating, one must remain calm.
She whispered it under her breath like a prayer, steeling herself one last time before finally opening the door.
As the door creaked, "I'm home," she whispered, stepping across the threshold.
She bent to remove her shoes, gently arranging them neatly by the entryway.
Only then, she aimed to retreat to the solitude of her room.
As her leg landed right on the cold wooden plank stretched across the corridors.
*Bang!*
Something struck her face hard, sending her entire body crashing onto it. The world spun, her ears rang, sound muffled beneath.
She lifted her gaze, gasping for air, quivering while her eyes adjusted to the figure looming above her.
It was... it was... Her father? His face twisted in rage.
"Why… did you do that…?" His voice was low, fluttering with fury. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"
Mary's lips parted, but no words came. Her breath caught in her throat. Her body felt frozen beneath his shadow.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to run, but... she couldn't... or was it... worth it?
Before she could pull herself up, his hand lashed out, snatching her hair. He dragged her across the hall while she protested in pain.
Her heels scrape against the floorboards, while her father mutters, swelling into thunder.
"Years. YEARS of teaching! And you're still one useless girl! I poured my time, my energy into you, and this is HOW YOU REPAY ME?!"
Mary blinked rapidly, the world still hazy from the blow.
"You were meant to be PERFECT!" he roared, shoving her away as they entered the living room. "Perfect—better than all those inferior, mediocre horsegirls out there!"
He pointed at the television. The glow of the screen filled the dim room, showing a re-run of a grand race. Umamusume stormed down the track, their strides flawless, their forms majestic.
"Look at them!" he barked. "How glorious! How magnificent! How PERFECT!"
His gaze snapped back to her; his daughter lay weakly on the floor. "And then look at you. Worthless. Useless. A complete fool of an excuse—!"
His voice became blurred. The words kept pouring out, sharp and endless, "You're a disgrace! A DISGUSTING WORTHLESS PIECE OF—!"
But then, it slowly became muffled, fading away into oblivion. And Mary no longer heard them.
Her mind already drifted elsewhere, slipping beyond the pain, beyond the rage. Her mind was seeking mercy.
***
***
***
Then, a faint scent brushed her memory, gentle and warm. It was a scent she was familiar with, a scent of something she had yearned for years.
Right... It was the scent of her mother. Sweet, comforting.
And then, faintly, she heard it—a lullaby. A soft hum, fragile but collected. The song her mother used to hum.
For a moment, the coldness of the room faded, replaced by that warmth she longed for.
And then came another sound—soft, gentle, almost forgotten. The murmur of a TV. Wait… she was watching something? The same living room, but not the one she knew now. It was cleaner, brighter, lovelier.
A figure appeared, sat on the couch before her.
Mary's hands reached out, but it welcomed by her younger hands. Then, her voice...
"Mom, what are you watching?" It was her mother.
"It's a race, Mary. A race for ones like us to compete." Her mother smiled warmly.
"A race…? To compete? Why…?" Mary tilted her head.
"So we can test ourselves to the limit, to an extent that we know we're capable of," her mother replied, brushing her daughter's hair. "Besides, it's fun to run!"
"Fun…?"
Her mother nodded, eyes glimmering with hope. "Yes, fun! When you get older, mommy promises to take you outside more to run, okay? So you can run as much as you want and then tell me all about it, okay?"
"Running… fun…" the little Mary repeated, her voice almost like a spell.
The memory blurred again, faded—then fractured. Her father's curses tore it apart. Snapping her back to reality.
"Worthless!" he raved, pacing back and forth, his silhouette looming like a monster.
"What do I do now… If people heard my daughter was a brute, no one would believe she's perfect! I must fix this! She must be perfect, she must be PERFECT!"
His voice grew more frenzied, more unhinged. "Wait, wait! I know! All we have to do is prove it—prove that you're not mediocre. You'll show them all! You'll trample anyone who stands in your way! That's what it means to be PERFECT!"
Before she became further aware of her father's horrifying rant.
Mary's vision dimmed again, the fury in his words dissolving into another fragment of memory.
Her mother's silhouette at the doorway. A large suitcase was by her side. A heated argument between her parents. Voices clashing, words she was too young to understand.
And then, her mother stepped toward the cab outside, while little Mary witnessed the end of all ends. I must stop mommy!
She pulled herself forward, chasing after the one thing that she should feel comfort in. The scent, the voice, the presence of her beloved mother.
Before her mother entered the one-way vehicle, the cab. She clutched desperately at her dress. Her voice quivered, barely a voice, "Please… mommy… don't go… don't leave me…"
Her soft, little innocent voice ached.
After witnessing that, her mother knelt, holding her with a smile, though it was strained. "Mary… promise mommy you'll keep running. Promise me that you will not give up."
She paused, pointing toward the vast blue sky, "And by the time you reach the finish line, mommy will be there. She'll be waiting for you. Ready to bring you home with her. Okay?"
Then, her voice cracked. "All you have to do is listen to your father," she wiped, "He's the only one who can give you the future… the future your mother couldn't."
Mary's sobs grew louder, wrapping herself tightly around her mother, and wouldn't want to let go.
But her mother only stroked her hair one last time before breaking them apart. "Just promise me… promise to be…" Her words faltered, breaking into a whisper. "…be a good girl, okay?"
With one last embrace. One last warmth. Then the cab door closed, and with it, her mother vanished from her world.
Vanished from her existence.
Vanished entirely...
...
...
...
Back in the present, her father still raged and frothed in the background, and Mary's lips barely moved.
"Mo…"
"Mommy…"
"Where are you…?"
"I miss... you..."