As the next dawn came...
As usual, the little pink creature was still slumping around on her futon. Muttering nonsense in her dream, with drool trailing all over her mouth.
Next to her was her father, too, yet awakened by the early morning. Like her daughter, he too was slumping around on the futon.
Meanwhile, her mother had already risen, humming softly in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast for those two sluggish entities.
She didn't mind, given it had been a habitual routine. But today, she was in a good mood. She prepared the carrot rice for breakfast, Urara's favourite.
Meanwhile, on the outside of the house, a lone figure in her tracksuit jogged past the sleepy town, slowing down only when her eyes caught Urara's house.
At first, the figure wanted to skip past it, continued her jog, but she recalled something. Something belonged to her; something she might have left at that very abode.
So, she approached and stopped before the familiar doorway.
She then straightened her coat as she knocked.
*Knock*
*Knock*
From inside came the usual cheerful voice. "Coming!"
There, the door opened swiftly, revealing Urara's mother, her hair slightly tousled from cooking. She peeked outside, her tone light. "Who is it?"
Her eyes once again flickered left, then right — seeing no one — until she looked down.
"Ah—Mary," she gasped softly, surprised to find the girl standing there, small and still.
Mary bowed slightly. "Pardon the intrusion." Calm and polite as usual.
"Oh, Mary, what are you doing here so early?" Urara's mother asked with her usual warmth. "I'm sorry, Urara's still asleep right now. Should I call her—?"
"No, it's alright," Mary interjected quickly, "I only came to retrieve my clothing and truffle bag from yesterday's visit."
"Ah, right! Of course." Urara's mother chuckled, patting her forehead as if she'd nearly forgotten. "Wait just a second, dear." She turned back inside, rushing toward the direction she kept her belongings.
But before she could disappear fully into the hall, Mary spoke again.
"And about the clothes you lent me…" she murmured.
Urara's mother turned halfway, tilting her head with a small smile. "Oh, don't mention it! You can keep it. Consider it a little gift from us. After all, you did help Urara with her grades. An achievement not many individuals can achieve," her mother tittered.
"Besides, you probably need it more than we do. And well... Urara barely wore it. It's going to be collecting dust anyway," she added.
As Urara's mother turned away, muttering, "Now... where do I put it?"
Mary lowered her head, her gaze falling to her sleeves, remembering.
The dress — now torn and severed — was probably better off collecting dust than it should be now.
Her hands trembled as she gripped her sleeve tightly. Her guilt flared.
Perhaps, she truly didn't deserve the kindness of others.
Perhaps, she was destined to be nothing more than what her father wanted — the perfect, emotionless machine for success.
Yet, somewhere deep within, some voice reminded her of the day to become appreciative, 'normal',
"Mary-chan looks cute!"
And it hurt.
It hurt because it reminded her that somewhere in this world, someone had seen her not as a tool — but as a friend.
Somewhere, she was allowed to feel, not to crush.
Somewhere, she was allowed to become... Mary Jane.
Then—
like a ghost resurfacing from her memory, her father's voice returned.
"You can do all that once you've become successful. Once you've become perfect."
"Then, you can go out as much as you want, make as many friends as you want, spend as much time as you want with anyone — hell, I don't care. All you have to do is RACE, WIN, REPEAT!"
His words crawled back into her mind like a gun to her head.
And the sound of his voice was so clear she almost looked over her shoulder, expecting to see him there.
And with that...
Right, she thought.
What was she doing?
There was no reason to feel guilty.
No reason to regret anything.
That dress — that house — that family — they were distractions. She wasn't meant to be like them. She wasn't meant to be soft, or kind, or sentimental.
She was meant to win.
To race.
To rise above.
To destroy whatever dreams stood in her way — even if those dreams had pink hair and smiled like the sun.
It wasn't friendship, she told herself. It was a coincidence. A weakness she had entertained for too long.
She was never supposed to be friends with Haru Urara.
Not when one of them was destined to win, and the other was destined to lose.
Not when perfection demanded sacrifice.
She was meant to—
t—to...
to...?
Nonetheless—
Her heart ached, one small, traitorous ache that defied the idea she tried to rebuild.
Despite all her reasoning, all the doctrines her father had buried in her mind, something still stayed — that treacherous tiny spark of warmth, the longings for attachment.
She envied them.
That simple, ordinary family that laughed over breakfast, that shared words without conditions or goals. A home that wasn't measured by trophies, but by care.
A life she knew she would never have.
A life she knew she didn't deserve...
After all... Her name is Mary Jane, not HARU URARA...
...
...
Suddenly—
"There you go, Mary! Sorry for the wait!"
Urara's mother returned, gasping for air as she handed over the truffle bag with a smile.
Mary startled; her sharp return was nonetheless Urara's equivalent. Like mother, like daughter.
She then accepted them quietly and opened the bag for checking.
But upon opening it, she choked.
Everything was clean, pressed, and cared for — as if it belonged to someone precious.
The simple gesture almost broke her.
And she thought the day couldn't get any worse...
Then came Urara's mother's voice,
"Would you like to stay for breakfast? I might have accidentally made a little too many," Urara's mother asked kindly.
Mary hesitated — then shook her head. "No, thank you for your offer. But I have training to attend to."
"Of course," her mother replied softly, "But you're always welcome here. Even though we might have started on the wrong foot."
"Thank you, I'm much appreciated," Mary bowed, unable to meet her gaze.
Then, out of nowhere, Urara's mother gently patted Mary's head, saying, "You're a good kid, Mary. Just be careful out there."
Immediately, Mary flinched and flustered; she recoiled with a few back steps.
"W— wha—?" She was lost for words.
"Oh, sorry!" Urara's mother quickly apologized, realizing she had come a bit too strongly.
Nevertheless, "It's okay..." Mary accepted her apology and bid her farewell with a bow.
With that, Mary turned to leave, her small silhouette fading into the quiet morning street.
Beneath her breath, she muttered, bidding her farewell one last time, "Goodbye, Urara. Thank you for everything."
"But... May we never cross paths again."
Ending their relationship once and for all.
...
...
...
Several hours later...
Inside the very same classroom, the teacher clapped her hands together in the front, calling attention.
Urara, meanwhile, as usual, had her face flattened against her desk. Half-asleep, half-dreaming.
Until the teacher's upbeat announcement suddenly pierced through the class.
"So!" The teacher slammed a stack of papers onto the desk. "Given that the time of the year is coming, we'll have something special next week! For those of you who signed up for the upcoming race—well, not everyone did, but!" She lifted a finger dramatically.
"I've decided to host our very own friendly competition — a class relay race!"
A collective gasp boomed through the room.
"Relay race?!"
Immediately, some groaned in dismay, while others burst into chatter.
The classroom blazed into a flurry of excitement and confusion.
"Settle down, settle down!" the teacher chuckled, "Yes, a relay race! It's to help us support our classmates who are entering the competition in the coming month. Well, also mostly to have fun, of course!"
Fun...?
That word barely registered in Mary's mind.
Meanwhile, around her, the reaction was barely contained.
Desks creaked, chairs scraped, and voices stirred as students immediately started talking strategy with one another.
And as always, one name was whispered more than any other.
Mary Jane.
The prodigy. The untouchable. The perfection they all envied and adored.
"Alright, alright!!!" the teacher hollered, easing the class while slamming her desk.
Except she didn't know she slammed a little bit too hard and shuddered in pain, "Damn it..."
After a few minutes of recovering, she continued,
"You'll be forming teams of five. That means six teams total. Each runner covers a checkpoint, passing the baton until the final member reaches the finish line. The first team across — you know the drill — wins!"
A student raised her hand timidly. "What if I just… take the baton and run the whole thing myself?"
Laughter rolled in as the teacher sighed,
"Of course, you'd be disqualified," regretting the question.
"Also," the teacher added with a teasing smirk, "the winning team gets a prize — I'll reduce your homework load for next week!"
The classroom exploded.
"WHAT?!"
"No way!"
"Less homework?!"
The classroom instantly burst into more chaos than before.
Suddenly, alliances were being formed and broken in seconds. Friends turned to rivals, teammates into traitors.
The mood was more lively than ever — but for the most ridiculous reason.
Mary didn't move. Didn't even blink. The idea of racing for something as trivial as less homework seemed meaningless.
Homework was meant to hone her. Reducing it was only an excuse for mediocrity.
But not everyone shared her view. This included that pink creature in the back.
Urara's tail wagged like it was about to lift off.
"Less homework means more time to play!" she cried, punching the air. "I'm winning this!"
The teacher chuckled as she watched the chaos unfold.
Then the bell rang, curbing everyone on the spot for a moment. "Alright, alright, class dismissed! Discuss your teams during recess! And I expect to see some solid groups by the end of the day!"
"Yes, madam!" the class bid their farewell in unison.
The moment she left, the room descended into chaos again.
Within minutes, the crowd shifted and funneled toward one direction — Mary's seat.
"Mary, join our team!"
"No, ours! We've got the best sprinter!"
"Hey, we need you to anchor, please!"
Mary was surrounded, the noise blurring together into a meaningless argument and fighting.
She simply stared forward, detached, watching the desperation play out like an uninteresting film.
Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Urara watched the scene unfold, her hands gripping her desk.
"I need to talk to her…" she murmured to herself. "I need to apologize… and ask if she'll be my teammate!"
Her tail flicked nervously. It wasn't about winning — not to her. She just wanted to stand beside Mary again, to show her that their friendship could still exist after everything.
With that,
*Slap*
*Slap*
"Alright!"
She declared as she gently slapped herself on the face, mustering her courage to approach.
But before she did—
A hand gently stopped her at her table.
Urara startled, blinked, and turned.
It was a girl she didn't know well, or perhaps, at all— light brown hair tied in a neat ribbon, her tone polite but confident, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Hi," the girl said warmly. "Do you mind becoming my teammate?"