The crowd at Sunshine Beach was thick with sunscreen, sweat, and fried oysters. Chowder hated the smell of the place, but the cheering of the crowds--that deafening roar of a thousand spectator's voices, all screaming their little human throats out for the sticky mess and collisions and tears--it was all she lived for. And the Dolphin City bi-annual 100m dash was, after all, what she'd spent two years training for. Two long years running for hours on the sand outside of Seabreeze Town. Two long years acquiring three national championships to qualify. Two long years spent for the Tag-team Match, underneath the blazing sun beside her best friend, Denzel, spitting and snarling because the moron couldn't quick turn right.
She buckled down her blue helmet and settled the transistors comfortably over her ears. 100m, and that didn't mean distance--it meant size. Size counted. But, more importantly, it was how quickly she could get to that size, and Chowder was no push over. She sighed to herself as a referee pinned a paper number onto her back, and surveyed the roped off beach; police were lined up alongside snot-nosed children and cotton-candy smothered fat men, just incase someone tried to pull a stunt like the idiot who dove onto the track last winter and cost her the match…
Chowder shook herself. No. No point in dwelling on it now, no ma'am. Second place silver in her collection was… tolerable. She had still snagged the title at the Coconut Grove 45 second relay the next week. It would do. It would have to. She inhaled the salty air and exhaled slowly. Inhale. Exhale. Loosen up. Stretch your legs, powder your hands.
Number 23. She was Number 23, and half the audience were her dedicated fans. These were the big leagues, and she had earned her number. She had trained for this day, and now no one was going to stop her or roll her over like some…
"Chow!"
Chowder jumped. Except… maybe Denzel. Denzel stood in front of her, a 15-year-old human boy with barely enough arm muscle to roll 60cm. But he had a good heart, and he was far too smart to sit in the bleachers with others his age. He was of better use out on the field, even without Kirinin, his "unconventional" look out. He smirked nervously and it took a moment for Chowder to realize that she was giving him the condescending look that he shyed away from so easily. She smiled instead, even though it was a little forced.
"You getting ready for when I get back?" She said.
"Yea. I just feel like something's… missing without Kirinin here. What with her being 'contraband' and all…" Denzel smirked sheepishly again. Chowder felt like she wanted to roll her eyes but didn't. She understood what Denzel must feel like, but he really couldn't expect to take that ridiculous squirrel everywhere with him. Seriously. She took a breath. Now was not the time to be judgmental, not when they were a team. Sure, Denzel was a little green and a little young, but he caught on quickly and could roll a terrifying Katamari when he put his mind to it. Plus he…
"ATTENTION: All Dolphin City Katamari Damacy 100m Dash participants please make your way to the starting position."
"Well," Denzel said, patting Chowder on the back, "roll us out the red carpet, Chow-Chow! I'll be here when you get back from winning!" With a wink, Denzel jogged off towards the rookie practice stretch before Chowder could reply. She shivered and popped her neck. She couldn't lose. It would ruin everything…