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Island Hopping

Waves rolled over the shore to announce the arrival of Mystery Island’s Yooyuball team. The sand was warm and soft beneath the team’s feet and flippers, different from the slightly grittier quality of their home’s sand, and yet familiar all the same. It felt good to touch down on a proper beach, almost as if they were coming home, even though Dacardia was a destination none of them had ever been to before.
     “Whoo! Feels good to be off that boat,” Vela Binal said, beak opening wide and long Lenny legs stretching out far.
     “I’ll say,” Tulay agreed. She hopped from foot to foot, as was her habit, and looked around the beach. “Not all of us are as lucky as Lor and can just swim our way across the sea.”
     “Have you tried investing in a pair of flippers?” Lor—a Flotsam—joked. His teammates laughed, all except Volgoth, their captain – he was already scanning the beach, looking for the reason they had made their way to Dacardia.
     “Whoa!” Vela exclaimed, scrambling a few feet ahead and shading his eyes with his wing. “What in Mumbo Pango’s endless appetite is THAT?!”
     The rest of the team followed behind him. There, right at the point where the beach met grass, was…
     “A giant Yooyu?!”
     Wordlessly, they all agreed to investigate. As they got closer to the great, towering… thing, they realised that it was not, in fact, a Yooyu, but a bunch of beams bolted together in the shape of a Yooyu. And what was more, it was surrounded by dozens and dozens of tiny red robot Crabbies!
     “Get back here!” came a familiar voice, just as one of said little robots scuttled by faster than one of Tulay’s trick shots. A moment later, it was followed by none other than the captain of the Dacardian Yooyuball team, Tyrra Tamina, scrambling on all fours. “I need those nails, you silly—Ah! Volgoth!”
     She came to a clumsy halt just before knocking into the towering Mynci – aided by his strong hand on her shoulder – but there was a big, wide, Kougra-fanged smile on her face that suggested she would have been just as happy to crash into him after all.
     Hearing the commotion, Tyrra’s teammates began to make their way to the beach. “TULAY!” Camila cheered, speedily taking wing and tackling her Cybunny friend to the ground, while Rowdy Roo the Gelert grinned, jogged up to Vela, and said, “Vela, my guy, what’s a handsome Lenny like you doing in a place like this?”
     Soon enough they were all gathered around each other, hugging and laughing and catching up. Volgoth still hadn’t properly greeted his fellow team captain, though, so he did just that a moment later – and silenced the whole crowd in doing so.
     “Tamina,” he said, and the Kougra captain scoffed playfully.
     “Psh! I told you you could call me by my first name, remember—wait a second. Not that we’re not happy to see you, but, um… why are we seeing you right now?”
     “Nevermind that,” Lor said, gesturing toward the giant Yooyu-shaped frame. “Why are we seeing a giant Yooyu right now?”
     “That’s a Yooyu?” Selmon Woulf asked. Everyone on the beach turned their heads toward the Xweetok, but nobody said anything.
     “It will be,” Tyrra began after a moment. “And it’s going to be able to travel all across Neopia. We wanted to show everyone that even if things look grey right now and the Altador Cup has been cancelled, the sporting spirit is still alive.”
     “I see. Only you guys could come up with something like that,” Volgoth said, rubbing his chin. “Hmm… You know, we were worried about you all, placing so low in your debut Cup. We thought you’d be upset, so we came to show our support and solidarity, but I guess we were wrong.”
     “You do have a habit of taking your shots before checking the other team’s plays,” Tyrra said, nudging Volgoth affectionately. “But that’s something I like about you guys. And… not gonna lie, you were right. We were pretty disappointed to come in 17th. We know we’re new and all, but… I dunno, I guess we just thought we were better than that.”
     “We felt the same way about our first low placement, too. And every low placement after that,” Lor said.
     Tyrra’s smile faded, and she looked down at the sand, dragging her foot through it. “How did you deal with that?” she asked. “You guys seem so put-together and strong as a team, I just figured you were always good sports about everything.”
     “This guy? Good sport?” Selmon elbowed Volgoth. “You should have seen him after AC V. Nearly toppled Techo Mountain.”
     Tyrra gasped, but Volgoth only laughed good-naturedly. That had taken some explaining, and only after the Training School guardians and the Techo Master himself had fought him to the point of collapsing. He had been a lot quicker to anger back in those days. “It’s true,” he said. “And it nearly happened again the next year. And the year after that. Then we placed second… But it didn’t feel much like victory.”
     “Don’t get us wrong, placing that high felt good,” Lor said, “but we’d trained so hard just to win that by the time we did, we realised we hadn’t actually had fun playing in years.”
     “It wasn’t until we got back home and the whole island was celebrating our second place standing that we figured out why we were really playing,” Vela said.
     Volgoth eyed each of his teammates, and they grinned back at him in turn. “You know,” he began, “a giant mechanical travelling Yooyu’s not a bad idea. It looks big enough to house a whole Yooyuball field on it, too.”
     Tyrra blinked. “What do you mean?”
     “Last year, Darigan Citadel came to Mystery Island on vacation,” Volgoth said. “While they were there, we practised together.”
     “Wait,” said Rowdy, lurching forward in shock. “You’re all buddy-buddy with Darigan Citadel? That means you know some of Tandrak Shaye’s tricks, right? Then could you help a Gelert out and—”
     “Not this again,” Vela groaned, grabbing Rowdy around the snout and forcing it closed, in the same instant that Camila swatted her teammate’s ears.
     Volgoth grunted. “I don’t know about tricks – they’re honourable players. But that’s not the point. The point is that just because there’s no Cup doesn’t mean we can’t play. And if you put a playing field on your giant travelling Yooyu…”
     “Everyone can play!” Tulay finished, bouncing up and down and tugging on Tyrra’s braid. “Just for fun!”
     “There’s more to Yooyuball than winning,” Volgoth concurred. “And it’s about time we all reminded ourselves of that.”

Darigan Yooyu (Old AC prize)
The Grey Year Podium Background

Juggling Act

With a spectacular triple-twist fall, Jair struck her final pose on the aerial ropes. The orchestra played its culmination, and her chest rose and fell from the effort of her act. The crowd roared in a standing ovation—then the lights dimmed, the curtain fell, and the Maraquan Eyrie slid down to the stage and flew off into the wings.
     She had twenty-three minutes for lunch before she needed to be at the pitch.
     A kind crewmember handed her a glass of water, and she downed it as she changed out of her glittering costume and into the jingling Roo Island uniform. The heat of the spotlight always made her feel so parched, so she was thankful for the cool hydration.
     Another sold-out theatre—and for a matinée, no less. Circus Rooleil had been doubling their performances to keep up with ticket demand, which was putting a strain on Jair’s own schedule. For many places struck by the grey, Roo Island was a convenient, still-colourful escape, so tourism had been booming. She kept reminding herself, even as she sped out the back door, that she was more than happy to help, especially seeing so many grey Neopians in the audience.
     Fourteen minutes to the first Yooyu.
     Her heart was still pounding, which was concerning; usually she’d have recovered by now. Jair took slow breaths between bites of cold potato wedges… and yet a small, sharp pain pricked in her chest. Lilo, her team captain, would understand if she were late—he knew how packed her days had become. But Jair wasn’t one to let people down. So on she flew, dodging clumps of tourists lining up outside of the popular Coffee Cave.
     After a few years with the circus, Jair was accustomed to quick changes. She knew the schedule was logically possible, but she lived in constant fear of forgetting a game, an act—a play!—just trying to keep track of it all. It was hard, but even without the crowds, it was also deeply rewarding. Flying the ropes took a great level of control that helped her feel strong. And everyone could see how her work on the stage flowed into her movement on the pitch; they both served as expressions of herself. She felt like the luckiest Eyrie alive.
     So why was her chest so tight?
     Eight minutes to gametime.
     Her mind whirred with to-do lists. The simplicity of morning Yooyuball and evening rehearsal had turned into morning practice, matinée, afternoon match, and evening performance. And somehow, she’d been making it work. Standing ovations, glowing reviews in the paper, and at-least-average showings on the Yooyuball pitch had granted her the constant fuel of positive reinforcement. It was nice to receive her flowers, but she was starting to suspect that that was just the problem…
     How do you stop a Merry Go Round, before it spins totally out of control?
     Four minutes.
     She flew through the team entrance, quickly tossed her bag in the locker room, and collapsed on the team bench by the sidelines. Deep breath in. Hold. Deep breath out. She held her hand to her heart to help centre herself. She’d made it.
     Team Roo Island and Team Brightvale were just finishing their warm-ups. The bleachers had already filled to capacity, even for a recurring friendly match. This was good; their ongoing efforts this off-season doubled as a fundraiser, with ticket proceeds going to Brightvale relief funds. Lilo, Jair’s captain, gave her a wave, then a concerned look.
     Oh no, she thought. Dread coiled in her stomach like a dropped circus rope.
     The Blumaroo bounced over. “Jair… are you alright?”
     Emotions rose in her throat, and Jair closed her eyes. “I’m fine.”
     Wait. A thought flashed in her head. Did I leave my Yooyu sling backstage—?
     Her eyes flew open in a panic until she remembered she’d thrown her bag in the locker room. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Lilo took a seat next to her.
     “I’ve been thinking,” he began, using a more serious voice than usual. “I’m sure you know this better than anyone, but… it seems like you’re taking on way too—”
     “I know.” She looked at him, keeping her emotions in check. “I know. But this is important. It was a lot of work to put these matches together—I’m not letting them down.”
     She gestured towards the crowd, who were getting louder; the announcer was working them into a frenzy. The show must go on.
     “I’m more concerned about letting you down,” her captain said. “Maybe… maybe you should sit out the next few matches, until things cool off a bit.”
     “And let you be a player short? No way. I still really want to play… I just gotta make it to the Cup.”
     Her mantra of the year: make it to the Cup. Having a target end date helped it all feel possible. Once the tournament was said and done, then she could re-evaluate, maybe even cut back on half of her performances—regardless of the additional shows selling out. Then, in that perfect future, she could stop burning the candle at both ends.
     “Well, I was going to wait until after the match to share the news,” Lilo said, “but it sounds like there is no Cup this year.”
     Oh. It felt like a heavy tent had collapsed all around her. Breathing became difficult. The next few days, weeks, and months cycled in her mind, over and over and over…
     Not now, she thought, reprimanding herself. Focus on the present.
     The pitch. The sun. The cheers and chants. The itch of her collar. The teams, shaking hands. Players… laughing, on both sides.
     Huh.
     It looked like Roo Island and Brightvale had grown to be quite close, which came as a surprise to Jair. She’d missed most of the early team dynamics, but knew Tressif had been worried about… pranks, or something? Clearly, Brightvale had relaxed into a more easy-going team—or Roo Island had found a groove that kept their scrimmages fun, friendly, and casual. Whatever had happened, they made it through the rough patch. It had all worked out.
     Jair took a deep, shaky breath. She didn’t know if she could do the same.
     “I’ve got it!” Lilo snapped and bounced up off of the bench like he did whenever he thought of a brilliant new play. “An idea where both teams bench a player, so you can rest.”
     Jair eyed him doubtfully. Her teammates were gathering into a pre-match huddle. Surely it was too late!
     “These were always meant to be casual games, more theatrics than anything,” her captain continued, unperturbed. “What if—oooh, this is good. What if we made it more… interactive? Invite Neopians from the crowd to fill a spot on each team??”
     “You think… that’d be safe?” Jair asked, thinking of the Brightvale player known for elbowing his opponents in the stomach.
     The Blumaroo giggled. “Yes! This is exactly what we’ve been practicing for, really.” He paused, seeing her slide down the bench a bit. “Does that… sound okay to you? And when you’re ready—and by that, I mean your schedule has returned to normal—we can rotate you back in, and give others a rest. Because yes, this work is important, but, Jair—so are you.”
     The weight… instantly lifted. This was it: her ticket off of the never-ending ride, at least for a season. She might not have had the brainspace to figure out what she needed this soon, but thankfully, Lilo did. She could finally breathe. She could finally think.
     Jair nodded, then blinked a tear free.

Grey Quiggle Quiz-Giver Plushie
Giant Yooyu Plushie (old AC prize)

A Prodigy's Decision

Bright purple and orange t-shirts fluttered down to the Lunar Temple, and Timu watched them fall from her regular spot at the top of the roof. Ever since her transfer to Team Shenkuu many years back, the pink Lupe often came here to stargaze or chat with Yueling, the wise Gnorbu who maintained the temple. He’d probably call these shirts “gifts from the moon itself.” Considering the colours, he likely wouldn’t be wrong.
     “You shine so brightly,” he’d told Timu upon meeting her. It felt wonderful, once.
     Back then, she was considered a prodigy, a star of a player. She was traded from Team Altador the moment Shenkuu had seen her potential. A few years went by, then the player she’d replaced, Foltaggio, went on to earn the captain’s role for her old team in Altador.
     And where did she end up, a decade later? The same place she started.
     A t-shirt landed on the roof, close enough for her to grab. ALTADOR CUP XIX CHAMPIONS!!!, it read, alongside a picture of Team Kreludor. Another reminder of how little she had accomplished lately…
     When she started playing professionally, she was one of the youngest players around. They’d even called her ‘The Paint Brush’ on the pitch, due to her quick ability to adapt her playstyle to any opponent. But now… as her body ached from climbing up and then down the tall temple, she felt like perhaps she had let everyone down.
     “Hey Timu, could you give me a hand over here with these boxes?” Mirsha Grelinek, Team Shenkuu’s captain, called out. The Gnorbu picked up a fallen shirt that said KRELUDOR ROCKS!!! off of a big pile of boxes and rolled her eyes.
     “Sure, thing. What’s in the boxes?” Timu asked as she jogged over.
     “Supplies for Xana’s Yooyuball camp. We were allowed to store them here until we started it back up.”
     Xana DiLanche, the team's goalkeeper. Despite how she’d sometimes tremble before their matches, she had opened up an all-ages Yooyuball training camp last year. Her voice had shaken during its inaugural welcome speech, but as the weeks went on, her movements became surer, her words more steady, and her students had excelled under her guidance. By the time the first camp had finished, she was like a whole new Lutari.
     "You've come a long way," Mirsha had said while toasting Xana over their celebratory dinner, "both on and off the field—and I'm seeing you grow more and more every day. Here's to that ever-rising potential!"
     Along with her teammates, Timu had lifted her glass into the air and cheered. Now, though, when she thought about how far Xana had come...
     To keep Mirsha from noticing her demeanor change, Timu grabbed most of the boxes and hefted them up on either shoulder.
     “Woah, I can help, girl. No need to get them all yourself!” Mirsha said, hovering her hands around the teetering boxes.
     “I’ve got it. No worries!” Timu said, dodging her attempts to grab a box. “You can grab the last two, though, if you want.”
     As they walked the boxes down the long mountainside, Timu’s mind wandered to Foltaggio again—the player Shenkuu had traded for her. A captain! She’d been at such an impasse lately… she just needed to get over herself and push harder! Be better for the team, like they had expected of her.
     “You know,” Mirsha said, looking between Timu and the morning horizon. “I heard Foltaggio is taking a break on the Isle of Yooyu, since the Cup was cancelled.”
     “Wait, what?” Timu said, a little too loudly. Had Mirsha known her thoughts? In her shock, the boxes leaned forward, and everything crashed to the ground around them.
     Timu felt a jolt of panic, and she and Mirsha scrambled to recover items before they slid off of the steep cliff. Once everything was gathered and stacked back up to the side of the path, Mirsha calmly wandered over to the cliffside. Her hair flowed with the wild winds of the mountain breeze as she took slow, deep breaths.
     “I—I’m so sorry. I had it—it just slipped. It wasn't too much, I swear!” Timu fought back the obvious tremor in her voice. She wasn’t going to cry in front of her captain!
     But Mirsha’s eyes were light as she breathed. She nodded for Timu to stand by her.
     They were high enough in the mountains to be above most clouds, and in the early morning hours like this, one could see for miles. The sun, barely rising, stretched its rays across the mountain peaks, looking for handholds to help lift itself higher into the sky.
     Timu matched Mirsha’s slow breathing as they watched the sun try to find its place.
     “I’m glad Foltaggio took a break,” Mirsha eventually said. “He’s always been a hard worker, but it can be stressful when one puts so much pressure on their shoulders.”
     Timu glanced back at the boxes.
     “But—what if… What if this break changes something?” Timu said, hiding a sniffle.
     “What do you mean?”
     “Like… What if he nev-never comes back?” A single tear rolled down her cheek.
     “If that’s what he wants, what would be so bad about that?”
     “He’s a-a prodigy. He’d be wasting his potential.” More tears welled, clouding her vision.
     “Hmm,” Mirsha hummed as she breathed out. “I would say there’s no such thing as wasted potential. It’s more important that someone is happy. If something doesn’t bring them joy, then potential doesn't really mean anything.”
     “B-but so many expect more from him.” Timu blinked, setting the tears free.
     “Well, even if that was true,” Mirsha said, “It’s not up to them how he spends his life. He’s allowed to pursue happiness.”
     Mirsha took a final deep breath. Timu did her best to follow suit, though her breath was more choppy.
     “You make it sound so easy,” she said between sobs.
     “It's not,” Mirsha said, putting a kind hand on Timu’s shoulder.
     Timu nodded, and Mirsha brought her into a hug.
     “But you’re allowed to go at your own pace,” she continued. “As hard as it is to slow down sometimes, I know you've got what it takes.”

Mirsha Grelinek Stamp (old AC prize)
Mirsha Grelinek Plushie (old AC prize)