“MERRYMENT! MERRYMENT! MERRYMENT!”

The jubilant cries and thunderous applause resounded in her ears, her heart beating like a drum within her chest, while the sweet wind coiled about her limbs, urging her ever onward.

What a delightful feeling it was.

To strive forward without a backward glance, to cast the world trailing behind her in a cloud of dust, and to welcome victory as though it were her birthright.

To conquer, and to conquer still—again and again.

Were she permitted to revel in this elation for the rest of her days, Jovial would ask no more of life.

...

Yet, when the race was run and won—by no small margin on her part—the medal, pressed into her palm with all the usual ceremony, held little novelty. Even the adoration of the crowd did not feel as pleasant as usual.

The cause, of course, lay in a single deviation from what was expected.

Jovial’s amber eyes skimmed restlessly over the sea of faces, while her tail swished with growing impatience.

"...Where is she...?"

For the third race running, the only Horse Girl who could ever hope to match her pace—you—remained absent.

From the earliest days of her career, there had been but one equal, igniting a rivalry so fierce that it stirred the hearts of all who bore witness.

So overwhelming was their shared dominance of the sport that the fans had crowned them with fitting titles: 'Number One and Number Two.'

Never had names so apt been uttered.

Jovial yearned for the thrill—that thrill—known only in the presence of her singular peer.

“...Damn it.”

Soon, she found herself in a rueful predicament, surrounded by a legion of fans and interviewers on all sides.

Even so, despite the swarm of queries and requests thrown her way, Jovial remained wholly alone in rumination.

For her thoughts, ever faithful, lingered solely on you.