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Sunday Silence was sulking on the bench as she grumpily watched the other Umas train, running on their healthy two legs. Meanwhile her own leg was still healing from her last race, those lucky bastards…
She wishes she could practice, but her trainer had told her to rest as much as she possibly could to still be in shape for the upcoming Belmont Stakes. Which was easy to do but hard to endure, as any kind of drugs– including pain medication– had been banned after a doping scandal. The black-haired Uma grumbled curses under her breath as she nursed her right foot with some ice, she would kill for some relief right now.
“‘Ey, Ducky!”
Sunday’s ears perked up in alertness. It seemed her pain had deafened her for a moment as she hadn’t noticed her trainer had walked up to her. “Stop using that stupid nickname!” She yelled at him.
“Could you brighten your face a little,” Her trainer asked with a bit of concern, “You’re scowling so much, you’re scaring the other Umas.”
Sunday blinked, slightly confused. Then, she turned her head to look at the Umas out in the field. Sure enough, her trainer was right. The moment she locked eyes with one of them, they jumped and hurriedly continued to run, mostly in an attempt to put some distance between them and the dark, scary Uma.
Cool, even with an injury and ridiculous nickname, Sunday Silence was still feared.
Her trainer sighed when he saw his star runner smugly grin at the fleeing Umas, “Is your leg really eating you that bad?”
Sunday’s ears drooped as she pouted even more, a cute expression juxtaposed by her reputation, “Can’t you at least sneak me a bit of Tylenol?”
The trainer shook his head, “No can do, Ducky. Not taking any chances, especially when one of our own had got herself caught. You’re gonna have to power through with that sheer grit of yours.”
The injured Uma dramatically groaned in disappointment, causing her trainer to chuckle amusingly. He moved his hand and playfully ruffled the Uma’s hair. “Ah, cheer up, kiddo! You’re Sunday Silence, you’ve bounced back from worse.”
Sunday tried to fight the need to lean into the touch, but she couldn't stop the faint blush spreading across her pale cheeks.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” She grumbled, she internally cursed when she started to feel her ear flickering against the offending hand.
~*~
Sunday barreled her way into the bar where her trainer was sat at a bar stool having a stiff drink. Her eyes were alight with a determination the Uma’s trainer thought was reserved only during racing. She limped her way over to her trainer in quick strides, and seeing that the still injured Uma was carrying a heavy looking wooden box crate, her trainer immediately expressed his concern.
“Careful there, Sunday!” He rushed to lift the crate out of her hands, but Sunday stubbornly kept it in her grip. The trainer and Uma awkwardly jerked the crate back and forth from each other, and the trainer worried that Sunday’s foot might get strained from their mutual jostling. So to end their little tug-o-war game, Sunday and her trainer set the crate down onto the bar table.
The trainer let out a huff, “Now what’s got you all bouncy.”
The dark-haired Uma puffed out her chest and lifted her chin up with pride, “I found a better alternative that won’t get us in trouble with the drug ban!”
Her trainer quickly shushed her at the mention of drug ban. He frantically looked around the bar, not wanting any prying ears on them. Thankfully, there weren’t many patrons right now, and while a few heads turned during their earlier antics, they had went back to minding their own business.
The trainer breathed a sigh of relief. He eyed the box crate sitting on the table. “So what if you found a loophole, no is no, Sunday. I’m not letting you risk your career–”
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Sunday reassured him. She opened the crate, and her trainer saw that it was lined full of cans. He hoped Sunday hadn't ran all the way from the general store carrying all that weight.
Taking one of the cans from the crate, the trainer examined it in his hands. “Chicken noodle soup?”
Sunday nodded, “Yeah! I figured since we always eat chicken noodle soup when we're sick, it might help with injuries too.”
The trainer looked at his star runner, face full of skepticism, “Ducky, that only works for colds.”
“And it might also work for injuries if I eat enough,” Sunday replied matter-of-factly.
“You're going to eat all that?!” The trainer exclaimed, dumbfounded. There has to be 32 cans in that box!
Sunday waved her hand up. “Barkeep, can opener and a fork, please!”
“You’re not even going to heat it up?!”
~Years later~
Tokai Teio was sulking on the bench, watching her teammates go about their training with a sense of longing in her eyes. It was a familiar scene to Sunday.
Teio’s attention then turned to her new companion taking a seat next to her. “Sunday-chan?” the brown-haired Uma voiced her surprise.
While Tokai Teio and Sunday Silence often interacted with each other, usually it was due to being mutual friends with Mejiro McQueen, and fighting over the attention of Mejiro McQueen. Rarely, if ever, does Sunday come up to her of her own volition.
“Hey Teio, how’s the leg?” Sunday casually asked.
The injured Uma sadly looks down at her cast leg. She tells her, “Trainer-san said I need to rest as much as I can.”
The dark-haired Uma crossed her arms and nodded in acknowledgement, “I hear that, I hear that.” She turned her head to face Teio. “You know, I had a bit of leg trouble myself during my career. I could give you a few pointers that might help with the recovery process.”
“Really?!” Teio couldn’t contain her surprise as she looked at the other Uma with hope in her eyes, “You’d do that for me? Why?”
“Uh, well…” Sunday sheepishly avoided her gaze, “McQueen is really looking forward to racing against you in the Spring Ten-show.”
“Tennosho,” Teio corrected her.
“Right, that,” responded Sunday, “And I don’t want her to get disappointed if you end up backing out. So don’t get the wrong idea that I like you or anything, this is purely for the benefit of MyQueen.”
“Right…” Teio gave the dark Uma a knowing smirk, but didn’t press on the issue. “So, what’s your little get-better-fast secret?”
Sunday rummaged through the bag sitting on her other side. She pulled out a can and handed it over to Teio.
‘It’s warm’, was Teio’s first thought, and when she examined the can in her hands. “Chicken… soup?”
The brown-haired Uma curiously eyed her sort-of friend, hoping for an explanation.
“Typically, I’d drink chicken noodle soup,” said Sunday as she took out her own can of chicken soup. “But plain chicken soup works just fine too, right?” She cracks the can open, and she sniffs at the soup with a slight smile to her face. “And the vending machines has it come out hot too. Japan is amazing!”
Teio stared at Sunday, remaining unconvinced, but she appreciated the sentiment. A small smile spread across her face as she clinked her can against Sunday’s. “Cheers– to my speedy recovery!”
“And cheers– to MyQueen’s upcoming victory in the Ten-show!” Sunday responded with a smug grin.
“Hey!”