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Ventus was not amused. Normally, you can't really tell because he's a possessed sword, and swords generally don't have facial features to help with their emotional expressions. But, when you're with the guy (at least, I think he's a guy, you can't really tell with ghosts) as long as I have, you begin to be able to read the very minute signs of emotion. Then again, Having a psychic bond as a result of a freak accident helps too. "I certainly hope this is a joke, Zenneth, for highly doubt the leaders will approve of us street racing with valuable guild property." He said, indicating cart had brought along to complete latest errand.

"Ah, you may be right, but, Cuffin is the one who issued this errand. So, technically, this race was approved by the higher-ups, no?" I countered. Granted, Cuffin is just a guild representative, and I have absolutely no idea how high up the command chain you have to be to give out errands. But, it certainly looks legit, even has a star for participating in it. Of course, I'm in it more for the fun of racing. It's one thing to run around town at your own leisure, completely other thing to race against someone. There's that extra thrill of competition, I guess you could say.

He just stared at me for the longest time before replying, "I sometimes question the validity of that Furrets authority," giving out an audible sigh as he did so, "I could simply report this race to the Royal Guards, I suppose, but then I'll be going against the Hunter's unspoken credo, wouldn't I?" He mused. Giving one final sigh, he said, "Very well, I shall help you in your race. Although, with your training and Extremespeed, I highly doubt that there would be much of a competition. And I highly doubt that some of the more serious ones would partake in such events. Still, better safe than sorry."

I gave a grateful smile to my Honedge partner, "Thanks, Ven, knew I could count on you."

He wrapped himself around my chest, and positioned himself on my back, "You just focus on running, I will keep an eye out for unwelcome attacks. Now let us proceed to the tower in the center of town, shall we?"

Never in a million years have Neige pictured that she would partake within a simple street race as hastily organised and, (dare she admit it?) sloppy as the one she is in today. Yet, here she is now, on the back of a cart pulled by her trusted Braixen caretaker, Dastan. Him trying to run and avoid obstacles and attacks, her trying to shield said attacks as well as throwing out some attacks of her own.

Initially, she had several reservations regarding this latest errand they have given out. After all, her father did once refer to such activities as "inelegant and undeserving of the attention of the noble house Blanche especially one of its ladies." Looking back on it now, she wondered why her father prevented her from doing these activities. It is, after all, such fun. At the very least, more so than the various tea she has had to attend, where they simply talked politics and various current affairs. Things which Neige payed close attention to, as a proper lady should, but never truly understood the importance of.

A large explosion nearly knocked the cart over, and it was only with Dastan's expert handling that they are able to return the cart on its two feet and continue on with the race.

"Woah!" Dastan exclaimed as the cart was righted, en route, with but a bump. "That was a close one! Neige, don't just space out like that, okay? I'm counting on you to get these jokers off my back." He said over his back, eyes focused up front.

"Y-yes, mon- I mean, Dastan," The Amaura replied, her sail flickering a light blue. She berated herself inwardly for allowing herself to lose focus, before returning to the the task entrusted to her. A Focus Blast sailed over their head, and she heard a loud boom foloowed by a scream.

"Wow, that was a nice shot." Dastan commented. Neige, however has had her figurative hands full trying to deflect whatever attacks that may come their way. The rest of the world faded out as she focused on the task given to her.

Jekyll watched as Hyde attempted to correct her breathing pattern, a movement mirrored by others around them. Jekyll could hardly blame them, having just pulled a cart bearing other pokemon from the tower at the center of town to the edges of Subseed forest must have taken a great effort, along with a few air from their lungs. Which is why Jekyll wondered, having lost despite all the effort that they seem to have put in in the process, they still managed to smile as if they won. Perhaps it is because there was no prize to be given to whoever comes first in the first place? That would most certainly take the competitive factor out of the equation. But, in that case, why did they try as hard as they did? By right, if they came here for the purpose as Jekyll, that is, to attain some Stars, then they shouldn't need to exert themselves so. Perhaps the thought of "throwing" the race simply never crossed their minds. Yes, that must be it. It seems that the citizens of this city do provide amusement now and then.

Turning to Hyde, he could see that she had recovered her breathing, and in relatively good time, too. Still, proper behavioral etiquette demands that he inquire her of her general condition before moving on, so he did just that.

"Yeah, I'm fine," His teddiursa subordinate said, before taking a breath and straightening herself, Jekyll could see that she was smiling, albeit, it is a small and barely recognizable tug on her lips, but a smile nonetheless, "Who knew these people are so crazy."

"Indeed" came Jekyll's concise reply, "Now then, with our daily entertainment over, shall we return to work?" Jekyll asked, eliciting a groan from Hyde. "Seriously, is work the only thing on your mind?" she asked.

"Whatever do you mean?" Jekyll inquired, as per proper etiquette.

"Look, I just ran who know how many miles, can't I take a break or something?" Hyde replied.

Jekyll considered these words for a few seconds, before finally saying, "Very well, you have the rest of the day off, but I expect you to be at the clinic at 5 ante-meridian tomorrow."

With that, he teleported back to his private laboratory, where work remains, as they always have and always will be, to be done.