The small sports ground behind the school was surrounded by families, stomping their hooves in excitement as the game built toward the inevitable conclusion.
Standing on the kicker’s square, Rarity tossed her head, flicking the short spikes of purple mane out of her eyes as she prepared for the final ball.
“Yer lucks gonna run out sooner or later,” Applejack called from the pitcher’s mound. The farm filly grinned as she rolled the ball back and forth, preparing to unleash it.
“You’re mispronouncing ‘skill’ A.J.” Rarity called back, although she didn’t return Applejack’s smile. Her expression remained blank as she waited, the sound of the crowd fading to nothing in her mind.
Applejack kicked and even with the thick, wooden pitcher’s mound supposedly reducing her earth pony strength, the ball shot forward as if it had been fired from a cannon.
Rarity twisted, her rear hooves grinding into the dusty ground before her forelegs shot out to kick. Her hoof made contact and the ball rocketed into the air, high over the heads of the fielders.
The crowd cheered as the white filly ran around the five bases. But none cheered louder than Rarity’s mother, stomping at the front of the crowd.
A still grinning Applejack stuck her tongue out as Rarity reached the final base and the game was over.
“Great game!” The other players called over the sounds of the crowd.
“I think it would be more fair if Rarity had to play blindfold,” One of the fielders playfully pouted.
“She’d still play better than you, Cheerilee,” A colt replied.
While the other players celebrated on the field and parents came forward to congratulate them, Rarity quietly returned to the schoolhouse.
She was half through the doorway, her face hidden by shadow when heavy hoof-steps hurried toward her.
“Everythin’ alright?” Applejack asked, wiping the sweat from her brow, “You usually look happy when you win. Well, as happy as you ever look.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Rarity nodded without looking back. “I’m just tired and in a hurry to clean up. My ma and I are heading straight out. See you next week, A.J.”
The door closed behind her, muffling the sounds from the field as Rarity quickly shuffled out of her red jersey.
Rarity held the sports uniform up using her half-flickering telekinetic field. Tilting her head to the side, she pouted at the clothing.
“The red is too vivid,” she muttered, “The colour doesn’t suit anypony on our team.”
For a moment she considered changing the uniform, coming up with something that looked and functioned better. But she wasn’t sure where to even begin. The arts and crafts lessons had only covered the basics of clothing repair and she didn’t have the time to join the after-school sewing club.
Shaking her head, she folded the jersey away and focused on cleaning up.
She washed quickly and was still feeling grimy when she gathered up her things and went out front to meet her waiting mother.
“There’s my little kicker!” Said Rarity’s mother, Cookie, “Amazing game as usual. You’re going to be regional champions in no time!”
Rarity nodded silently as the world grew a little darker in her mother’s shadow.
Rarity’s mother was big. Not tall like the princess, but broad-shouldered with a figure that had been all muscle until a few years earlier. After retiring from the competitive circuit she’d started to pick up some softer curves.
Rarity looked up at her mother, feeling even smaller than usual in her presence. The filly was below average height for a unicorn of her age and the shortness was exaggerated when standing beside Cookie.
“Ready to hit the gym?”
Rarity nodded and followed alongside her mother because that was her routine. Go to school during the week, sports clubs after classes then kickball league and training at the weekends.
Repeated forever.
The Ponyville Gym was a modest facility. It consisted of one room at the back of the town Spa and Rarity’s family were almost the only patrons.
Rarity felt a spark of pride as she bound her hooves with boxer’s wraps using her own magic for the first time. The telekinetic control needed for such work was new to her and there was something satisfying about manipulating the fabric with her field.
The wraps were even a pleasing shade of grey that complimented her coat.
With her preparations made, rarity entered the main room. A handful of exercise machines and kick-bags were spread around the outside with a single fighting ring in the centre.
Rarity’s mother had complained several times that the ring was built to earth pony standards, not the larger size used in unicorn martial arts. But she assured Rarity that it would be acceptable, at least until the filly was old enough to start training her magical fighting skills.
Rarity made her way around the room, exercising on each machine while her mother spotted for her and gave advice. By the time Cookie declared that they should move into the ring, Rarity’s coat was slick with sweat and her muscles burning.
“Alright, we’ll stick to physical moves,” Cookie said, ducking under the ropes and dancing back and forth as she limbered up, “But we should think about taking you to my old coach for magic training soon. You’re so close to being ready, my little kicker.”
“Thank you, ma,” Rarity flashed a brief smile before her expression became serious again. She needed to focus on the sparing match.
With every fight she took part in, Rarity could feel herself becoming stronger and more skilled. Her confidence had grown and the moves flowed with greater power and fluidity. But with every fight her mother would hold back a little less and Rarity had to push that much harder.
Dodge, block and redirect. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Knees bending, back arched, Rarity swooped back, avoiding a hoof that had been rushing for her head. Keeping the momentum going, she swung forward again, lashing out with a sweep that would’ve knocked a pony of her own size to the ground.
But the blow bounced harmlessly off Cookie’s padded foreleg.
“Fantastic work!” her mother cheered, pushing the next attack aside and giving herself room to reposition away from the ropes, “You’re improving so fast!”
Rarity smiled again, feeling the familiar joy of receiving praise for a job well done. But then her thoughts drifted, wondering how much longer the training session would last.
The light outside was starting to fade. The day was almost over and she felt like she’d done nothing but play sports and travel between training facilities.
She wasn’t sure what else she would've done with the time, but in the back of her mind she suspected there was something she could be doing.
Rarity yelped as a padded hoof connected with her cheek. Stumbling backward, she winced and rubbed the side of her face.
“I’m so sorry,” Cookie gasped, stepping forward to check that the filly was alright, “You’re usually so good at blocking.”
“Sorry ma, I was… lost in thought,” Rarity admitted, her eyes watering as she flexed her aching jaw.
“That’s alright,” her mother smiled gently, “we’ll dial it back a little. You’ll find it easier when you can mix magic with the physical stuff.”
“Yes, ma,” Rarity nodded.
Rarity awoke the following morning with aching muscles and a sore cheek. Kicking off her tangled mess of blankets, she looked around the room, groaning softly to herself.
The walls were covered with trophies, ribbons and other sporting paraphernalia. The whole place was starting to feel messy to her, like she needed to tidy everything away and redecorate.
Wearily, she trotted to the mirror and frowned at her reflection.
“I should do something with my mane,” she pouted, brushing a wave of spiky hair from her eyes, “I just need to figure out how.”
There was a hair stylist in town. Rarity had never been inside but photos seen through the window had been inspirational. Especially some of the older images. There was something in the classic elegance that drew her attention.
Grabbing the hairbrush with her magic field, Rarity flattened the worst of the spikes so the mane was at least a little neater.
“Maybe I should ask A.J. about braiding… or platting… or whatever it is she does,” Rarity tilted her head from side to side, watching her purple mane shift.
With a sigh, she dropped the hairbrush and headed downstairs for breakfast.
“Morning, my little kicker. Looking forward to the game?” Her father asked as she entered the kitchen.
“Yes, pa,” Rarity nodded, smiling up at him.
Like Cookie, her father was big for a unicorn, making the already petite filly seem even smaller. Her parents were powerfully built and Rarity had trouble imagining that she would look like them someday.
“Hoofball games in Canterlot are always exciting,” Rarity said, taking her seat beside him, “especially after the recent changes to the starting lineups.”
“Too true,” Her father grinned.
The train ride to Canterlot was exactly what Rarity had expected.
There were a number of hoofball fans in the carriage and it was inevitable that someone would recognise her father. If not from his time as a minor hoofball player then they’d know him as a sports journalist.
So Rarity and her father became the centre of a lively discussion about the upcoming game and the season ahead.
Despite being the littlest pony in the conversation, Rarity had no trouble contributing. She had knowledge, opinions and wasn’t shy about sharing them.
“Well, of course the Rangers are coming into this game at a disadvantage with everything thats happened over the last two moons. But you’re underestimating the value of Kickzapper,” Rarity explained while her father smiled encouragingly at her, “She’s been the cornerstone of the team for years. As long as she’s at the top of her game they have a real chance of winning.”
“Fair point, kid,” the grey stallion in front of her acknowledged before turning to her father “She’ll be taking your job soon, Flanks.”
“I’m sure of it,” her father laughed, playfully tousling Rarity’s messy hair, provoking a teasing pout followed by a genuine grin, “If she doesn’t take after her mother and become a Unicorn Martial Arts champion.”
Rarity’s smile faltered as she thought about her future.
Were those her only options? Following after her parents into Hoofball or martial arts…
It was late morning when they arrived in Canterlot. The sun was high and the city seemed to radiate beauty and culture.
The biggest sporting grounds were near the Canterlot Hub, so Rarity and her father were able to explore the shops and eateries as they slowly made their way toward the game.
Deep blue eyes darted around as Rarity practically danced from store to store. The Hub district bordered the palace and shared much of the architecture and feel of refinement.
Storefronts were works of art and the merchandise inside was beyond beautiful. She couldn’t dream of buying any of the dresses on sale in that part of the capitol, but they drew her attention like nothing before.
The little filly pressed her face against the windows, half-giggling as her heart raced.
She hadn’t been interested the first time she’d passed down the long street of clothing stores. Her mind had been focused on the Wonderbolts race she was going to see with her parents. But now, just a couple of years later, she was tempted to miss a hoofball match just to spend more time looking through windows.
Or perhaps to step inside.
“What’s that, Rare?” Her father asked as they entered the stadium.
“What’s what?” Rarity frowned, following her father up the broad steps to the journalists’ box where she would be watching the game.
“The magazine,” Flanks nodded to the glossy journal sticking out of his daughter’s saddlebag, “It’s a fashion magazine, I think. I didn’t know you were interested in that stuff.”
“Oh, um, well,” Rarity said as they continued up the steps.
She felt her stomach churning with panic. The magazine purchase had been an impulsive decision and she was sure she’d hidden it away. But it wasn’t easy to manipulate the flaps and catches of the saddlebag when her magical field wasn’t stable.
“The magazine…” her voice trailed off again as she desperately tried to think.
Could this be a good thing? An opportunity to tell her parents that she was developing a new interest. Even if she wasn’t really sure how she felt about it herself.
Would her father understand?
Neither of her parents had ever expressed an interest in fashion or design. They were sports ponies through and through.
It was all Rarity had ever known.
“The… I’m just…” Rarity stammered, “I’m… interested in these articles about sportswear?”
“You should’ve let me or your ma know, Rare,” Her father smiled as he held open the door to the journalist’s box. “There are plenty of sportswear articles in the journals we work for. You didn’t have to spend your own bits on that fashion magazine.”
“Yes, pa,” Rarity nodded meekly as they took their seats and her father laid out his notebook and quills.
The following morning, Rarity stood outside the schoolhouse during recess, staring at the horizon.
The world around her seemed hollow and distant, as if she was viewing it through a fog that dampened sound and clarity. At the time, she didn’t understand what was happening. She just knew she wasn’t happy.
Years later she would look back and recognise the signs of depression.
The thud of a ball bouncing off her foreleg did little to shake Rarity from her malaise.
“Rare?” A voice called out.
Rarity ignored the words and a tiny part of her wondered why she was feeling so cold despite the warm spring weather.
“Rare?” The voice called again, louder this time.
Rarity didn’t react until a firm hoof touched her shoulder.
“You sick or somethin’?” Applejack asked, the farm filly moving her hoof to feel Rarity’s forehead, “I told you not ta push yerself so hard.”
“I’m not sick,” Rarity shook her head, lifting her right foreleg to push Applejack’s hoof away.
“Really? You look like mah cousin the mornin’ after she drank a whole bathtub of mah uncle’s moonshine,” Applejack sighed, “Although yer still talkin’ right and you smell a might better.”
“Charming,” Rarity replied and her lips curled in a brief smile, “But I’m not sick or suffering the ill effects of stolen booze.”
“Then what’s up?” Applejack asked, “you can talk ta me.”
“I don’t know,” Rarity shrugged. She was about to turn away, but something twisted inside her chest and words spilt out of her mouth like an avalanche. “I… I’m not as excited by sports as I used to be. It's not as much fun. It's not… what I want to do with my life. It's not what I want for a cutie mark!”
Rarity’s eyes opened wide at the sound of her own voice.
Saying the thoughts out loud had focussed the problem in away that never happened while the anxiety and doubt was running circles inside her head.
My cutie mark.
My future.
Of course thats what I’m worried about!
“Really?” Applejack asked with a nervous smile, “Because trainin’ and playin’ sports is all ah’ve ever seen you do. Seriously, Rare, if you feel this way, why are you still in every sports club?”
“Because I don’t want my parents to hate me,” Rarity snapped, sitting heavily in the dust and staring down at her trembling forelegs. “You know how much they love supporting me when I play. How much they want me to follow in their hoofsteps. But, between games and the gym… I don’t feel like I get much time for myself. Sometimes… I want to do other things. But… how would they feel about that? About that betrayal?”
“Ain’t no betrayal, Rare. You should talk ta them,” Applejack replied, “Aint nothin’ gained from keepin’ how you feel hidden.”
“Honesty is your answer to everything,” Rarity snorted, “It isn’t that easy.”
“Well it’s gonna be a lot harder after yer magic becomes consistent,” Applejack pointed out, reaching up to gently tap Rarity’s horn, “Thats when you’ll start training for the unicorn sports. And it could be darned near impossible to back down if you get a sporting cutie mark.”
Rarity nodded silently.
“If you don’t want to commit to being a sports pony for the rest of yer life, you need ta talk ta them now,” Applejack nodded with determination.
“You’re very annoying when you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” Applejack nodded again.
“That explains why you’re so annoying,” Rarity briefly smiled, “I guess… I guess I’ve got to talk to them.”
“It’ll be alright, Rare, they’re yer parents.”
“What would your parents say if you told them you’re not interested in being a farmer?”
“Well, that ain’t gonna happen,” Applejack replied firmly before softening again, “But ah reckon they’d understand. And ah know yer parents will understand too. They love you.”
“They… love this version of me…”
The journey home took longer than usual. Rarity was dragging her hooves, pausing at every junction and stopping to look through every shop window.
But she couldn’t avoid her parents forever.
She wished Applejack hadn’t spoken to her on a day when both her parents would be home. Their work as sports journalist kept them both busy. Sometimes it would be days or weeks at a time when there was only one of them at home.
Then she could’ve put off the conversation.
Maybe long enough to never have it at all.
With a deep sigh, Rarity opened the front door and stepped inside her home.
“Hello, my little kicker,” her mother said with a perplexed expression as she stepped out of the nursery where Sweetie was resting, “You’re early. I thought you had kickball practice this afternoon?”
“Yes, um, that’s…” Rarity shook her head, stunned by how insecure she sounded.
She’d always been fearless on the sports field and inside the fighting ring. Her confidence was as sharp as her skills.
She liked that confidence. It was a big part of who she was and she didn’t want to loose it even if she did move away from sports.
“I need to talk to you and pa about that,” Rarity spoke more firmly, meeting her mother’s eyes, “About a lot of things.”
She’d done it.
She was committed to having the conversation. No turning back.
Her stomach felt awful.
Cookie looked worried, but she nodded slowly and gestured to the nearby seats.
“I’ll fetch your father and make us all some tea.”
The tea was perfect. Rarity had previously found it bitter, but the liquid felt divine as she sipped from the cup and prepared to put her thoughts into words.
“Is something wrong?” Her father prompted.
“Whatever it is, you can talk to us,” Her mother added.
“Yes, well, its…” Rarity took a deep breath, “I’m no longer as interested in sports as I used to be. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I spend all my time training and competing and… I don’t want that anymore.”
“I thought you loved sports,” her father frowned.
“You were so excited about finally getting control of your magic so you could learn hoofball and unicorn martial arts,” her mother said as Rarity raised trembling hooves and took another sip of tea.
“I did love it and I was excited,” Rarity sighed, “But, it’s become everything in my life. I always loved playing games with you both… but that isn’t what I want to do for the rest of my life. It’s not what I want for my cutie mark.”
Her parents nodded solemnly. Cutie marks were serious business and the fear of getting one that didn’t suit you was a common anxiety among colts and fillies.
But they’d never thought Rarity would experience it.
“I don’t want to spend all my time practicing and training,” Rarity spoke firmly, the tremble in her hooves fading, “I don’t want to take part in competitions anymore. But I don’t want to disappoint you either.”
“My little… Rarity,” her mother said, leaning forward to nuzzle the small filly and wrap a foreleg around her shoulders, “You could never disappoint us. We’re surprised, but that’s just because we hadn't realised you felt this way. And that’s on us.”
“We’re sorry,” her father nodded, bending down to nuzzle her from the other side, “We never meant to push you into doing something you didn’t enjoy. We thought we were helping.”
“I know,” Rarity said, half-stifling a sob as she hugged her parents, “I kept it hidden because I was scared.”
“You don’t ever have to be scared of talking to us,” Her father released the hug and returned to his chair, “We love you.”
“When we saw that you were into sports, we just wanted to encourage and support you,” Her mother sighed, taking a seat beside her husband. “We… didn’t want to be like your grandparents.”
“My grandparents?” Rarity frowned.
Her grandparents lived far away and she barely remembered what they looked like. This might’ve been the first time in years that her parents had even mentioned them.
“My family are all diplomats and politicians,” her mother explained, “Not particularly high-level ponies, but they take their jobs seriously. So seriously that they turned their backs on me when I told them I wanted to take up martial arts competitively.”
Rarity gasped. She’d never really thought about her parents lives before she’d been born. Apart from admiring the trophies and medallions on display around their home.
“I didn’t get the nickname ‘Tough Cookie’ because of my fighting style, I got it by making my way on my own ever since I was a teenager,” Cookie shook her head.
“Same here,” Her father added, “My family are merchants and the idea of one of their own becoming a hoofball star was literally laughable to them,” Smiling, he reached across to place his right forehoof on Cookie’s shoulder, “Our similar histories are one of the things that brought us together when our paths finally crossed.”
Rarity didn't know what to say. So she took another sip of tea and tried to ignore the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Our families didn’t support us,” Her father continued, “So we were determined to support you. But… we ended up pushing you too hard, taking the fun out of something you once loved.”
“I still enjoy it,” Rarity felt the relief of having something she could say, “I like the exercise and I really do love being able to defend myself. I just want to do those things as a hobby, not a profession. And I think I prefer watching hoofball to playing it. It seems a bit… muddy.”
“We’ll support you whatever you want to do,” Her mother said as both parents gave her shaky smiles.
“Thank you,” Rarity beamed with relief, “I do have an interest in fashion and design that I want to look into.”
“Fashion?” her father asked, “I don’t know much about that, but I’m sure you’ll be amazing. You always are.”
“I know a few fashion journalists,” Her mother added, “We’re not close, but I could ask for some pointers about getting into the industry and the best places to train.”
“I… think I’d rather do this on my own,” Rarity shuffled nervously again, “like you both did.”
“Of course, whatever you want,” Her mother replied hurriedly before both parents moved forward to hug their filly again. “We love you, Rarity.”
The following morning, Rarity approached the gathering of fillies and colts on the sports field behind the schoolhouse. Her head was held high and there was a soft but genuine smile on her lips for the first time in moons.
“Applejack!” She called, waving to the farm filly who was kicking a ball around with some of the others, “I talked to my parents.”
“That’s great, Rare,” Applejack grinned, moving away from the game, “Ah guess it went well?”
“It did,” Rarity nodded, “Thank you so much.”
“It ain’t nothin’, sugarcube,” Applejack shook her head, gesturing back to the fillies and colts behind her, “Do you wanna join the game? We don’t have full teams yet.”
“Oh, thank you, but I want to spend some time away from sports right now,” Rarity explained, takin a small step backward.
“Fair enough,” Applejack shrugged before heading back to the game, “I guess we’ll talk later.”
“Later,” Rarity nodded, watching the farm filly trot away.
Her smile faltered a little as she made her way toward the schoolhouse.
She’d talk to Applejack again…
It wasn’t as if playing sports together was the only time they ever interacted…
