Archive of Our Own

Pokke slams the door open to the abandoned classroom that has been inhabited by Agnes Tachyon and Manhattan Cafe for years now. It’s a familiar sound, one that, putting aside the quick spike in heart rate with the sheer noise that comes with Jungle Pocket, comes many times a week at this point.

Tachyon remains unfazed, slumped in her ergonomic chair which continues to do nothing at all to be ergonomic, staring unblinking at her laptop with papers scattered all over the desk and floor. The sleeves of her labcoat make noise as they hit the keyboard, her fingers flying around with precision, murmuring to herself about some sort of serotonin inhibition drug. Cafe sits in the corner, barely visible in the dark that she created, drinking coffee. Between the dark mass of hair and deeply-coloured sofa, the only sign that she is there at all is the piercing yellow eyes seemingly glaring at nothing on the sofa opposite.

“Tachyooooon-!!!” Pokke yells out. She still hasn’t noticed that the reason nobody pays her attention when she slams the door is because everyone has gotten used to her doing it several times a day on campus and even in public.

“Hello, Bucket-kun,” Tachyon responds, not looking up from her notes.

Pokke is seething. Both people in the room could tell this from the extra power she put into slamming the door open. Cafe makes a mental note to check on the hinges later.

“UUUUUGGHHhh!!” Pokke continues, not rising to the bait of that name Tachyon just loves to call her. “This shit is so STUPID!!!”

She walks, very angrily, towards the sofas. Cafe’s eyes move in the dark, her shoulders jerking in anticipation of… something. Her gaze seems to follow someone else aside Pokke, dead set on keeping direct eye contact with it as it goes from eye level when Cafe is sat, to standing above her and making its way to the door.

Pokke flops dramatically, flailing her arms and legs around like a toddler having a tantrum.

“That’s… My cue to leave. … Lovely to see you again… Pokke.”

Cafe is out of the door as fast as her body could take her, last seen reaching out to nothing with concern on her face as she mutters something incomprehensible as she walks away.

“… You’ll not heal your foot any quicker by throwing it around like that.”

Tachyon still hasn’t moved an inch, or blinked, for that matter.

“Yeah, well- I’m pissed off!!!” Pokke retorts back, although now she’s only making wild gestures with her arms. “Who are you to talk about takin’ care of yourself anyway?!”

Tachyon finally makes a movement that doesn’t involve typing. She pushes back on her desk, her chair flying backwards as she greets Pokke with a large, uncanny grin, stopping before she hits something. Her scarlet eyes are wide with anticipation, a look that she often holds when greeting her favourite little guinea pig during these frequent trips down to the empty classrooms.

“I do hope this visit is brief - I’m on the precipice of an important breakthrough that I do wish to follow before the moment passes.”

And then she sees the look on Pokke’s face.

“Dearest Pokke-kun, you are aware that this isn’t a counselling office, correct? I don’t often dabble in psychological sci-“

“… Shut up.”

There’s none of that usual heated passion in her retort. Just a flat couple words to stop Tachyon in her tracks.

Tachyon wheels herself over to the sofa. Pokke grabs her legs and crunches herself up into a ball as she realises that Tachyon fully intends to sit where she’s currently laying. She tends to sit in the sofa across on the rare occasions she does get out of her chair to speak to Pokke, so this is strange.

“Elevate your feet. If you intend to run again, I advise you at least take the steps to allow the healing process to begin. This early into your injury, you’ll find that it will greatly help your lymphatic system to-“

“Fine. Have it your way.”

Pokke swings her legs round, and places them over Tachyon, the bases of her shoes touching the arm of the sofa. There is still fresh turf and mud clinging to them, suggesting she had been out running despite the doctors strongly advising her to rest.

Pokke always has a way of taking up space - whether physically, through her booming voice which can be often heard on the track during training hours, or just by making herself into a grand problem to be solved. For Tachyon, it was none of these that stood out to her. For her, what stuck was the way she took up Tachyon’s mind. Ever since the Japan Cup, Tachyon had replayed that race over and over in her mind, the way it struck something in her soul that she thought had died along with her ankle. She didn’t even find out the results until Pokke had told her later that day, much to her delight to be able to rehash that she was finally the strongest. Tachyon had ran that day after months of barely moving at all. The way they looked at each other before Tachyon flew off from the racecourse, and how it felt as though, just maybe, there was a chance Plan A would work after all.

However, after that day, Tachyon found herself studying based upon Pokke’s races much more than any other umamusume. It wasn’t a conscious choice. It just seemed as though her races had the most substance - held the most significance to her. She’d never before experienced this. A new variable to affect her studies. Out of everything that she could ever hypothesise, bias was at the bottom of her list for things that could change the outcome of her papers. This had led her to a new wormhole of possibilities - and as such became a new topic to study.

Tachyon simply observes the bandages crushed under Pokke’s left sock. She lifts one hand up, attempting to have a feel of her ankle but-

“Don’t.” Pokke’s voice is sharp.

Sharper than usual.

Tachyon is vaguely taken aback, although she takes great care to not show it in her face.

“… Hmm. At least let me take your heart rate.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Pokke expects her to pull out something from her lab coat, but instead she grabs her wrist before she has time to react. She flinches, attempting to pull away, but Tachyon’s grip is made of steel. The heat rises in her ears, eventually the blush settling a little into her face as she looks away, giving up on avoiding Tachyon’s unending need to observe.

“Your heart rate has accelerated exponentially and your face is completely flushed! It’s almost as if you’re mid run, with the cardiovascular response you’re having! My my, Pokke-kun, you really must be riled up about your injury!”

Sure, the injury, Pokke thought. Nothing else.

“At least, I’d hope this is an emotional response as opposed to a physical one. This sort of reaction would suggest that you’re in a great deal of pain, although the extent of the injury to your foot would suggest that the source of this pain would be elsewhere. Have you been increasing your protein intake to best accommodate the healing process? Icing the injury to relieve inflammation?”

Pokke sighs.

“Yes, I do know how to take care of myself,” she tells Tachyon, but she mostly tells the sofa that she’s rammed her face into.

It makes sense she’d be knowledgeable on this specifically. A foot injury was the thing that sent her jnto retirement back when they both had ambitions for the Triple Crown. But when it came to her recovery process, Pokke can’t help but picture the Tachyon that had buried herself into her work, drowning in a billion boxes and vials and books, doing everything but resting. To this day, she still has nightmares about the way Tachyon’s feet would tap along the floor as she suspended herself in her chair for hours on end, her body scrambling desperately to run alongside the racers she studied so deeply. In the past year that she picked up running again, that version of her had ceased to exist, having found purpose in her studies of the potential of umamusume now that she too was an active participant. Thank the goddesses.

“I didn’t see you doing this when your foot-“

Pokke cuts off abruptly as Tachyon grabs her calves to feel for the muscular integrity. This is a common sight between the two, Tachyon often observing Pokke’s form and changes when she bursts in after a bout of training. Usually, she’d roll up the fabric of her sweats or would be wearing shorts, but today, due to how she was banned from running to rest, she was still in class uniform with only her running shoes in replacement.

She buries her face further this time, turning over from the waist above. Her tail flicks erratically, her hands flying up to try to hide as much of herself as possible.

Tachyon hums softly, deep in thought. “There are no notable changes to the physiology of your calves. All within acceptable parameters.”

And then her hands move upwards, past the knees and brushing her thighs. Pokke freezes, letting out a surprised noise that’s immediately drowned in sofa. The gentle squeeze of her muscles, the way her velvety hands touch with patience, beginning to pull down the thigh high sock that-

“NOPE. ENOUGH.”

Pokke pulls away, curling up into a ball on the sofa.

“Very interesting, Pokke-kun. This is a new reaction. I’ll be sure to note this one down, if you’d just care to explain what caused this?”

“You can’t just… AT LEAST GIVE ME WARNING BEFORE YOU GO FEELIN’ ME UP UNDER MY SKIRT LIKE THAT!!!”

“Ah. Of course. The changing variable of you not being in the clothes you wear to race. The way my actions come across could absolutely have a sexual undertone, considering the endorphins released when there’s contact between the skin of two consenting ind-“

“YES WE GET IT TACHYON YOU’RE FEELING UP ANOTHER WOMAN.”

“What I was going to say next is that your muscle tone is above average for what I would expect for someone who isn’t training at their usual rate, which is quite impressive, dear Pokke-kun.”

“Oh… Um.”

Pokke always reacts shyly to the praise. That’s what made it so tantalising for Tachyon to do. To see this umamusume who acted on top of the world, finally get humbled by something so easy. Just a simple compliment and she becomes as pliable as the chemicals she keeps in her lab. Perfect to experiment on.

Tachyon chooses to push further.

“It’s a shame you won’t be running for a while. You are the perfect guinea pig. To begin with, you would not leave me alone as your rival, pushing yourself for the frivolous reason of beating me. No matter how many times I pushed you away, you kept coming back, and every study I did on you proved to me that you were the one to break the limits of our kind. You yelled it to my face multiple times, showing me that you had determination to shatter the preconceptions of what we know now about umamusume. You have this beautifully toned body that is fruit of your labour as a runner, constantly pushing yourself forward even when you took the failures so horribly that you were about ready to kill me over it. You don’t know when to quit, which is a sentiment that unfortunately rubbed off on myself, considering that I am now looking to begin racing again, being the only reason I took my physiotherapy seriously just for the proof that maybe I could join you at the ends of the earth when we find out the other side of our biological limitations. I will miss studying you for this brief time, Pokke-kun.”

And that all spilled out before she even knew to stop herself. It will be beneficial to study Pokke’s reaction to this, at the very least. All her studies on emotions seems to have brought out this ugly side in her that speaks too much about unimportant things like her personal feelings, but like most other things involving herself, she could cleverly word things later to brush it under the rug. Just like she hid everything she had gone through after retiring from racing after her foot gave in.

She sighs, expecting some mocking retort as always. But she looks back to Pokke, and instead finds golden eyes filled with wonder gazing back at her.

“Apologies, I was experimenting with a personal drug earlier that I created to possibly study my alexithymia and it seems there are some lingering effects.” Liar.

“Aww Tachyyy that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said!!! Please say you have a hidden microphone somewhere trackin’ our conversation I wanna hear that again million times over!!!!”

This is the exact look that Pokke only saved for Fuji Kiseki, at least from Tachyon’s observations. Thank the goddesses there is no recording. Although, maybe, it would be nice to preserve this face. It brought up a feeling in Tachyon’s chest that she didn’t know how to identify. It wasn’t bad, per se, just absolutely unusual. It wasn’t the first time she felt like this. It was something only reserved for Pokke, and with it came strange biological impulses that would plague her during the night when her mind wandered during a caffeine-logged experiment, rendering it a failure due to her negligence. Maybe this could be her next study, she wondered. Pokke was the reason for a lot of personal studies in this past year. A new realm of possibilities opened up after Plan A failed and Plan B led to the Japan Cup incident.

Quickening of the respiratory system, an uptick in heart rate. It only lasts a moment before it’s gone. Probably because she looks away from Pokke’s face. And closes off her brain by thinking about her current drug exploration. She only called her Tachy when in an elevated mood. Those words had flipped her entire emotional state, no doubt releasing serotonin at high rates. Which in turn would inevitably help with her foot. No, stop thinking about her. Right, the drug-

“Tachyon?”

“Hm?”

“Your breathin’s shallowed.”

“Accurate observation.”

One major disadvantage of Pokke spending a lot of time in the makeshift laboratory is that she spent the past year learning from Tachyon as she muttered to herself. All the science shit, was, well, “bullshit”, in Pokke’s words. But the studies on emotions were clearer. Especially when Tachyon would spend so much time analysing the physiological effects of Pokke in response to the slightest thing.

“You good?”

“Never been better. Like I said, that drug-“

“You’re a shit liar.”

Tachyon stops dead in her tracks while the tangent of lies hang on the edge of her tongue.

“I’m sorry, I’ve spent way too much time with Fuji and it’s really easy to pick up when people are lying. Especially you.”

“Well aren’t you the smart little guinea pig.”

“You’re the one spoutin’ shit about emotions all the damn time. I was going to pick something up eventually. Spit it out. What’s the breathing about.”

Tachyon doesn’t know where to start. She’s always been infamously uninspired by her own emotions, tending to ignore them alongside bodily functions. She was not an important variable in her own studies in this regard. She just needed to be awake to be able to research and test and create for as long as her body still breathed and theorised.

“Hm. For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve only felt emotions about one thing. And it’s not to say I didn’t experience them, I just never had the terminology to match what they were or what they meant. And that thing is my foot. It was the one variable that I could not control. When I thought about my weak constitution, I knew that what I felt was crushing fear accompanied by this raging hope of breaking my own limits. I knew that, whatever happened to my foot, is the trajectory my life would be sent into - whether I get to be the one to break the limits or whether I die in the ashes to give birth to the dreams of others. That’s when you showed up. When I knew that I would have to disappear forever to achieve my dream. You were easy to beat. But I could not beat my fate. I know that what I went through after that was grief for what I could’ve had - who I could’ve been. The boxes piled high, withdrawing myself from everyone and everything in some tiny glimmer of hope that someone would be the one to do it. I did not live outside of my research.”

Tachyon takes a long sigh, and Pokke sits up again, careful not to touch her friend as she speaks. She’s still staring. Eyes filled with wonder.

“The Japan Cup. I woke up again, and you tore me out of my depression. Taught me to live. Gave me new experiments, a new goal to study. To understand you. And in all that time, knowing that it was your emotional capacities that drove your life to be this way. And the horrid sinking feeling that I did not understand you at all. And then time creeps on as it does, and in that time, I realise that I am, in fact, feeling. When I meet your eyes and you smile back. When you drag me out places that I do not care about with your friends. The variable in my life that I cannot put a pin on, no matter how much I research to understand how you did this to me.”

“I… Didn’t know you were struggling so much with your foot.”

“You pinned me to my chair. It was a purposeful choice that nobody knew the path I was walking. But you were the most angry. I didn’t care. Your anger fuels you, after all.”

“Hahaha… One of my most memorable traits, if ya ask me. That feels like so long ago now…”

Pokke places her foot down on the ground and winces as she forgets about the injury, all caught up reminiscing.

“Shit!!”

“Take off your shoes. Preferably before Cafe sees that you’ve had them on the furniture. I’ll get some ice.”

Tachyon stands up and a fleeting thought crosses her mind. About caring for her like this. Making sure she’s safe. And dismisses it immediately.

She grabs the ice from her mini freezer, at the front hiding a concerning amount of chemicals behind it. She sits back down, holding a towel around the bag.

“Foot.”

Pokke obliges, bringing her foot back up onto Tachyon’s lap.

“You’ll need to take your sock off, or would you like me to do it?”

Pokke considers Tachyon’s hands reaching for her thighs again, that soft touch as she pulls the sock down, careful to not the aggravate the injury. Nope. Not happening.

She grabs her own sock, ripping it off and throwing it on the ground, the bandage following suit. Way too rough. It hurts.

“All this to say, Pokke-kun, that I have begun to worry about you. You are everything that I do not understand about being an umamusume. Researching you means I can expand my knowledge, since clearly the emotional effects you have on others, myself included, has a direct positive correlation to improvement in running. You prompted me to learn more about how things like partner running and long-term rivals can affect overall performance. And yet here you are, pushing yourself beyond your physical limits for the past year and making us all worry.

Tachyon is just about to place down the ice onto her bruises but-

“Stop.”

“Hm?”

“I- I can ice it myself, it’s fine.”

Tachyon tilts her head, unblinking, her tail flicking curiously. She has been especially reactive to touch today. Perhaps just a resulting factor of the pre-existing pain.

“Why are you so opposed to me touching your foot?”

Pokke looks over to the mess of purple-blue bruises that cover the top of her foot. It’s an ugly sight. She doesn’t even want to acknowledge it’s there, but instead simply run back onto the track and pretend she’s fine.

“Because if I let you in with taking care of my injuries too, I’ll start gettin’ soft,” she almost growled into her hand. It wasn’t the complete truth. Maybe she just craved the touch and trust of someone who wanted to take care of her so intimately, let herself finally be taken by the one person she had admired as a rival and friend for so long. But just like with it did with Fuji, the feelings would pass, as long as she stayed just far enough away that she could grow out of it. She didn’t want to admit to herself that staying in Tachyon’s stupid classroom lab was one of her favourite parts of the day, listening to nonsensical ramblings of the scientist she couldn’t help but want to be around, followed by the back and forth bickering over something Pokke did to annoy Tachyon to get her attention. She didn’t mind being studied by her, finding it a comfort as she slowly watched her own body fall past its peak, giving way to newer students to find their own beginnings as racers. Tachyon didn’t care about them. She cared for Pokke - her progress, her body, her reckless nature as she trained.

“Are you concerned about your emotional response to me touching such a vulnerable part of your body?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I don’t want to look like a massive pussy in front of someone I look up to.”

“Then, let me ask you this. If you were to let those final emotional barriers down, what would be the worst that could happen?”

‘You’ll find out I’ve fallen deeply in love with you’ is what Pokke thinks.

“Because it would be embarrassing to cry from the pain when you’ve already been through so much worse with your own health,” is what Pokke says.

“Everyone has different pain tolerances, and as such different responses to the pain receptors. I do not see that as a flaw in a person. It is simply a matter of how we cope with it. You crying has the emotional release of leucine-enkephalin and activating the parasympathetic system. I tend to focus on the direct release of dopamine through my research as it is a topic of great comfort. It doesn’t make it any more or less “embarrassing”, as you say.”

“… Whatever.”

Pokke grabs the ice from Tachyon’s hand and places it on her foot, resisting the rising pain. She bites down on her lip, grimacing until it passes, replaced by the stinging pain of ice on an already cold day.

[Pokke looks dead at the camera. “Fuck ICE” she yells at it.]

“If you don’t remove it in 5 minutes, I’ll do it myself,” Tachyon retorts at her wincing.

“Sure thing.”

And 5 minutes pass in silence. Pokke thinks about maybe just letting Tachyon finally take care of her. She instead closes her eyes, enjoying the quiet. It’s nice to not have the background noise of keyboard keys and shuffled paper. It’s not often that Tachyon rests, even with her higher regard for taking care of herself these days. She opens an eye. Tachyon is just staring at the ceiling, at the decorations Cafe has hung up. Her ears flicker every so often. She’s thinking about something.

“Pokke-kun.”

“Mm?”

“Would you be more comfortable with me touching you if we were in a romantic relationship?”

“Huh?”

“Just a passing hypothesis. Never mind.”

“HUH???” Pokke yells, shooting upwards. The ice clatters to the floor, the bag splitting and water beginning to leak out. “You can’t just say SHIT like that? Are you tryin’ ta rile me up?? Make fun of me??? The FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?????”

And she’s exploding in a flurry of movements, just like when they first met at the Hopeful Stakes. Wild gestures, noises somewhere between anger and fear, her ears pinned back as her hands clench up into fists.

“I was observing Opera O and Doto the other day while conducting a study on how physical intimacy affects efficiency of learning. It was a failed experiment, given that Doto fell over while racing and their subsequent contact led to Opera O carrying her away and they did not return to the track that day. It was only a whim that was suggested by Digital. And it made me wonder - how does the physical touch and specific romantic connection of another affect umamusume? We instinctually tend to thrive in pack settings and many of us crave affection of some capacity. However, you have a tendency to be more hands-on with people, and yet you avoid specifically my touch. So I ask the question again - would that change if we were in a romantic relationship? Would it be then that you settle under my grasp?”

Pokke chokes on her tongue. It’s… Genuinely a good question. But she supposes that she also hadn’t considered the idea of reciprocated feelings. Tachyon doesn’t change for anyone in the way she does her research. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that she could also could feel beyond her studies and drugs, to enjoy people’s company beyond them being a simple guinea pig for her. And she wouldn’t bring it up if she didn’t reciprocate, right??

Tachyon doesn't even look at her. Doesn't blink. Doesn't move a muscle. This is just as simple a question to her as deciding on whether or not she should have some tea. Of which the answer is usually yes, and then she piles it so full of sugar that she might as well just drink liquid glucose. Does that... Exist??

Tachyon just scratches her cheek, not really caring if she gets a response or not.

"Well, hypothetically if I said yes, what would be your response to that?"

"I'd check your ankle to see if your lymphatic system is working as intended. I'd also check your back for the pain you're trying to hide that you got from readjusting your running form. It's only a collateral effect from the foot, but a likely causation for strain where your body tries to create a new centre of gravity where it should not be."

Pokke stays silent. She should've known it was scientific only. And how did she know about the back pain?

"I'd also take the time to place my hands around your jawline to see how I'd react. Depending on my emotional outcome, I think it would clear up a lot of burning questions I have. It would be highly entertaining to see your reaction too."

"Wha-"

"Of course, that is to say I'd hook you up with some wires first, take those readings as they come in, although there wouldn't really be much to gain from only one participant in a study-"

Pokke crashes back down onto her seat. Her legs are still comfortably crossed over Tachyon. She just lays there, staring at the ceiling. She's not listening to Tachyon's rambles this time. Just trying to crush down the fluttering in her chest at the thought at Tachyon's soft hands on her face with a delicacy that seemed to be reserved for only her. 

This is so STUPID - is what she wants to scream. At least Fuji made sense. She's charming ponies left and right, purposeful eye candy with a caring heart to go with it. Falling for her was like, yeah, her and everyone else on campus.

Agnes Tachyon uses people for science, seeing them as little more than vessels for potential at best. She kept herself tightly locked up in her own life so much that, anyone who did develop a crush on her only knew a superficial version of her based upon her racing. Which was long past now. She is only a face that showed up on the track to observe and study and occasionally run. She didn't ever reveal herself enough to be loved. And yet Pokke had fallen head over heels regardless.

Maybe it was because Pokke was one of the few that Tachyon would ever open up to. Of course, Cafe was a contender for this long before she even made her debut. But that was a different sort of relationship. It was more of a familial kinship, with Tachyon resembling the annoying younger sibling who did eventually find comfort in her older sister who, and of course Cafe would never admit it, took the role in her stride of being a rock for Tachyon.

Then why did Pokke want it so bad? To feel closeness with Tachyon in particular, as someone who already frequently expressed her emotions through physical touch?

"Fine, Tachyon. Just keepin’ up the mockery, I don't care."

"Oh but this isn't mockery, dear Pokke-kun. I've been deliberating over this hypothesis for months now."

Pokke genuinely starts choking, sitting up quickly and shuffling away from Tachyon as she tries not to die right there and then. Being a guinea pig for emotions was a fine tradeoff to seeing Tachyon more often. But love??? What kind of data had she actually been gathering???

"Please refrain from dying in here, Pokke-kun. I would wake up tomorrow to find all of my research reduced to ash by the hands of Cafe and Fuji when they find out my involvement."

"I fucking hate you sometimes, Tachy," she splutters out finally. She stands up, lightheaded, and helps herself to a glass of water over by the sink.

Tachyon hadn't even looked at her through this whole thing. All of this was just some shitty science experiment to her. Not a fast track to breaking someone's heart.

"Interesting admission of emotions, dearest guinea pig. Your reaction would imply opposite to your words, based on my research. However, you are always presenting outliers, so perhaps you are telling the truth." 

She crosses her legs, bringing her head down. She's staring at her foot now. Thinking. Deeper than before.

Pokke sits back down. Next to Tachyon. Setting her empty glass on the table.

"... How long have you been studying me for this?"

"Oh? I never started."

Pokke's ears flatten against her hair.

"Then what was all this fuckin'... PLAYIN' ME LIKE A DAMN FOOL???" 

"I have far pressing matters than your emotional state towards me in particular. Your data towards those you run with on the track is much more valuable."

Pokke's face might as well be replaced with a big fat question mark, tinted red across the cheeks. 

"THEN WHY BRING IT UP AT ALL??"

"Because I'm open to new studies at all times, don't you know this? It would be as easy as drugging you with a truth serum of sorts, letting your tongue slip without telling you the true purpose of what I'm giving you. I simply haven't gotten around to it. Or maybe just a placebo would work and telling you outright that it will make you spill. You always are the one to throw your thoughts out without a consideration for its consequences."

"Then why haven't you done it already? Clearly you've had this planned out."

"I..." Tachyon pauses. It has been a suspiciously long time to still have this idea stick around. Usually, a few months of a festering hypothesis is an indicator that she should give it a miss, due to its lower importance to her overall goals. "I suppose it's because... There's a probability that it could permanently change the dynamic of our professional relationship."

"Uuuughh you're going in CIRCLES Tachyon. Figure it out for yourself already what you want."

"You're aware of my diagnoses, correct? It is not so easy to figure out what my internal changes means for my psychological state."

She's not wrong. Tachyon is hyper aware of every movement in her body at all times. The changes in her heartbeat, the tightness in her chest. The way her breath settles when she's in the flow of research, and the inevitable spike of hormones that comes with it. She knows every type of pain in her body, the exact muscles and tendons affected when those sensations rise through her foot. But it didn't mean anything. They were just changes. Her brain stayed neutral - unfeeling. She could be experiencing the choking feeling of her entire body clamping up or the flood of dopamine when sitting down at her laptop. It was something her brain simply didn't realise.

"You know what. You've made enough of a damn fool of me today. You can look at my foot. Make a drug that helps with it or whatever or I'll never come see you again for this."

Finally. A chance to observe her body's stages of healing instead of her emotional integrity.

Tachyon reaches down but, she hesitates. "Tachyon doesn't hesitate," is Pokke's thought. Tachyon is the one to think with split-second decision making. It's the way she runs, the way she lives. That's what made her running so impeccable - the speed playing alongside her brain as she pushed past the limits of umamusume without a second thought for the race. It pissed Pokke off for a long time, as a rival. But now, now that things had changed, she appreciated that mind that thought so clearly.

Then why is she hesitating? 

Tachyon questions it too. Why she couldn't reach down to the foot that she so desperately wished to study. To feel each ridge of the ligaments, the flexing of muscles as she moved it each toe, to finally feel what an intact ankle tendon feels like. That was... Not sparking the serotonin that it usually would.

"What she wants." What did Tachyon want. What was stopping her? What was this block in her mind? Why was it always in direct correlation to Pokke?

So many questions. So few answers. What an insolent pain. 

She looks up at Pokke's face. Bright, primal eyes gazing back. She is pissed. But, under that, Tachyon knows she's also in surprise of this action. She should be muttering away about the different muscle groups by now. But she remains silent.

Well. So be it.

Tachyon balances herself onto one hand, pressing it far into the seat next to Pokke's leg. She leans forward, pressing into Pokke's lips with her own. 

Yes, this is what she was hoping for. The heavy spike in adrenaline, her heart rate shooting upwards, taking a sharp breath inwards as her lungs seem to constrict into themselves. And then, relief, it seems. Everything is still elevated, but not in an uncomfortable range. 

She pulls away as quickly as she leaned in.

"Wh... WHAT WAS THAT????? DO YOU EVEN BLINK????????"

Pokke's tail is flicking erratically, a deep flush running up her ears that equally move at alarming speed. The flush is on her face too. Absolutely covered in red, down to her neck.

Tachyon has nothing to say.

She sits back like nothing happened.

"... Say something, Tachyon."

"Hm?"

"Don't just leave me alone with this."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You're fucking stupid."

"I'd argue the opposite."

Pokke buries herself into her knees that she has since pulled up off the ground. She doesn't even know what to say to that. All she can feel is the butterflies in her stomach and her brain screaming *more*. It was less than a kiss and more of a light tap, no time for her to reciprocate. But she wants more. To push back and overwhelm her with so much affection that it would damn near kill her. Finally beat her in something. Feel the victory of pushing her down onto the sofa and - NOPE, inside thoughts Pokke. Thank the goddesses she considers hiding her face.

"Do you even like me then...?"

"There is a possibility that I do."

Pokke's ears prick up.

"And there is a possibility that I do not."

Pokke's ears fall again.

"It would be unwise for me to not consider the null hypothesis, surely you’re aware of this.”

"Oh fuck your stupid science jargon," Pokke growls through a knee. "You know I don't even understand half of what you're saying."

"And that makes you an ideal guinea pig! You wouldn't be a perfect participant if you came here already knowing too much about what I needed from you. Now, if you just give me a moment, I would quite like to do a hormone panel before these frankly wonderful sensations fade from my body. Thank you for this, Pokke-kun."

It's... Weirdly sincere. At least coming from her.

"Can you look at me and view me as more than an experiment? Please." It comes out more desperate than she intended.

"You know that's beyond my realm of possibility. Now, the bloods-"

Tachyon attempts to rise. She's immediately pushed back down by a hand that comes with force.

"Fuck. Your. Science."

When Pokke wants something, she wants it deeply. And she does not stop to achieve it. Tachyon appreciates it about her. It's an interesting variable to study - something that extends to infinity. Much like the potential of umamusume themselves. So many parallels between two individual studies. Both inexplicably weaving into each other. The extent to which emotions will shatter a person's predetermined path, push past the personal bests just to prove to another that they are strongest. And the potential of umamusume themselves, crushed so ferociously by the highs and lows of emotions from trying to be the best of their generation, but finding the limits being tied so pathetically to their own mortal, human minds and bodies.

But when Pokke wants, she does not care. She takes the scattered light of potential by the fist and throws it into the paths in which she will fail, taking only the road that will lead to her eventual success.

That is to say, Tachyon is very aware that Pokke is now sat on her lap, staring at her with furrowed brows, those topaz eyes staring into the ruby eyes of her own. 

She starts to fumble around in Tachyon's lab coat pockets, looking for anything that could be of help to her. Things spill out - empty vials, crumpled paper, wires, god knows what she needs used teabags and empty medication capsules for in there. Finally - a pulse oximeter. Something medical that she at least recognises. Doesn't know the name, or the function, really. But knows how to put it on a finger.

She grabs Tachyon's left hand, clipping it onto the fingertip of her middle finger hastily. A slight flicker in Tachyon's ear. A twitch, even. Still unblinking. Non-reactive otherwise.

"Tachyon. You can have your data. But I want you to *feel* this."

She drops the first hand, moving for right hand with her own left. Tachyon simply lets her. Pokke reaches for Tachyon's neck, pushing Tachyon's index and middle fingers open and pressing them against her own pulse.

"Pokke-kun, what you're doing here is stimulating my vagus nerve, which to say would help to regulate my-" Tachyon stops, and sighs. "Here."

She moves her fingers slightly. Right into her dear guinea pig's trap. It's akin to when she runs, the fluttering heartbeat, pumping blood as though she could die any moment otherwise. Her neck is warm, likely tinted a slight red as the blood vessels vasodilate and blood pressure drops. 

"Maybe I can... Incorporate additional qualitative data instead," the words spill out. 

With a voice crack. A stammer in her usually-calculated speech.

"Perfect," Pokke responds. 

And she leans closer. Pressing her hand tighter against Tachyon's, pushing further into her neck. The other hand moves to the back of the sofa, balancing herself on Tachyon's legs.

Lips make contact again. Tachyon gasps this time, an involuntary noise rising from her throat that she had not accounted for. Tachyon tastes of tea, although it's mostly sugar. 6 cubes worth, in particular. She tastes like warmth and... Fear. Pokke leads, pressing deeper into the kiss, desperate for more. She doesn't want to stop to breathe. Tachyon, surprisingly, only follows, copying the moves presented to her. Somebody so confident, finally losing control of something. Having to be the one who sits back and learns.

Pokke tastes of her lunch. Vaguely of turf, too. The smell sticks to her, from running wrong and throwing up the dirt from the power of her foot trying to accommodate for the weakness of the other. Her lips are dry at first - likely a fear response. It would also explain why she had a drink of water earlier. But she quickly finds her confidence from nowhere, as always. As she pushes harder, her hips rub up against Tachyon. Her skirt rises up, the bare thighs of the girl on her touching her own. The sensation is... Indescribable. Pokke-kun had an affinity to lead whatever social outing she was part of, but this was a different kind of confidence that drove her kisses, absolutely dominating the girl below her with no sign of slowing down, perhaps driven for selfish reasons alone.

Pokke opens her eyes as she gasps for air. Tachyon's eyes are... Closed. Something she only does during her most vulnerable moments. She had seen it only 2 times before. One of those times being when she first ran on the track again with no supports or bandages on her foot. There was no way this moment was truly up there with those events. 

"I need to devour her," is the thought that crosses Pokke's mind.

She grabs the collar of Tachyon's now-crumpled lab coat. Pulling her closer.

"P-Pokke-kun. Wait."

The most pathetic whine that has ever come from Tachyon's throat. 

She takes advantage, pulling her hand away from her neck and pushing Pokke's face away. 

"Don't look at me."

It would be difficult to figure out if the deeper red is in her eyes or her skin right now. Made harder by how she refuses to open her eyes. Her legs tremble, her ears pinned down to the top of her hair. If her tail wasn't trapped under her body, it would be flapping at uncontrollable speeds. 

Pokke just savours the moment, licking her lips. It felt so good to finally be in control, to get that sweet satisfaction of being paid for all her hopeless yearning. To know that it was, in fact, reciprocated.

"... You've never kissed anyone before, have you?"

"I thought as much would be implied. You know I didn't exactly have parents to emulate the relationship of and I've never desired for romance in my life."

She's trying to sound smart, but it doesn't hide the tremor in her voice. 

"You barely use your tongue. Try to keep up with me for a change."

Tachyon's eyes open again. She looks away, to the window of the room. Absolutely embarrassed. Cute. 

"Well? Do you like me or not?"

"I suppose that..." Tachyon coughs, cutting herself off. "My body suggests that I must."

Pokke takes advantage of the opening. Placing kisses, flitting around the delicate skin of the jawline and neck. 

The noises that come out of Tachyon's mouth sound more fearful than pleasured. Good, her turn to squirm, Pokke thinks. She pushes her good leg up, propping herself so that her mouth is level with Tachyon's ear, barely just not brushing it with her lips. 

"And what do you feel, Tachyon?" she whispers into it, it promptly flickering backwards away from the threat of contact.

But she turns back in Pokke's direction. 

"What I feel... I don't... Want this to stop."

"Yes?"

"Please don't stop. Kiss me and answer every theory of us I have circling my mind."

Pokke silently settles back down into Tachyon's lap, reaching for her face and pulling it towards her, her lips slowly travelling further and further down to her collarbones.

"Ahem..." 

A quiet voice comes from the window. Yellow eyes, staring.

"Tachyon... Please remember our policy about no strange substances... On my furniture."

Pokke just vaguely. Stops in her tracks. Stares back at Cafe.

Tachyon, however, looks away, to the door. Completely shielding her face with her hair, although the twitchiness in her movements could not hide the emotional state she was left in.

She summons the most confident voice she can muster. "It's simply water. There was an incident when icing an injury earlier."

"... You know fine well that's not what I mean."

"I'll clean up later, dearest Cafe, that's a promise."

"Or better still... Get off my belongings."

Pokke just keeps staring blankly at Cafe. How she is so unfazed by the scene in front of her, only caring for her sofa. And she stares back.

"Apologies, Pocket... My friend wanted to come here and I didn't want to lose track of her. She said... To quote... "I want to see Tachyon finally get mad bitches"... End quote."

She pulls out a takeaway coffee cup that she clearly got from the cafeteria in the meantime, taking a short sip.

"... That is to say, I don't care what happens between you two. As long as you leave my furniture out of it." 

She walks away. This time of her own volition, without following the path of another. She turns one last time, again at Pokke.

"You nearly sat on my friend... Don't do that again please. He likes femmes…"

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR FRIEND-“

And she's away with the wind.

Pokke continues to stare at where Cafe was for a moment. She shakes her head, a wild grin on her face as she brushes away saliva from the edges of her mouth. 

"Well, moment ruined, I might as well-"

She didn't realise Tachyon's hand had latched onto her wrist while Cafe was there.

"Stay."

Her word lacks the usual cadence of her eccentric retorts. Still looking away.

"Compression has benefits for regulation. As does feeling your skin against mine." Quiet, helpless. Yearning.

Those are the words that Tachyon can find to best match her reaction. A clear, definite change in speech patterns, physical sensations and overall physiology. As clear as her win at the Satsuki Sho. And her heart beats all the same as that day. But this time, for a breakthrough of a much different calibre. 

She... Likes Pokke. More than just as a guinea pig. More than even a friend, if she'd even call Pokke that before. Her touch is electric - forcing her mind and body into overdrive with no more than words and kisses. Nobody else could affect her like that. The way her body had always stirred just a little more when it came to Pokke - was that liking her all along? Questions to come in time, she supposes.

It is true to say that her synapses are on genuine fire. Sending signals about touch in places that had never been so much as looked at by anyone but herself, maybe touched by her own hair at best when left grown too long.

Pokke simply rests her head in the gap between Tachyon's head and shoulder. Letting herself collapse until her upper body is almost crushing Tachyon's. The adrenaline quickly dropping, and the consequences of the situation setting in at alarming speeds, no doubt.

"You are... Experienced," Tachyon says, like she's stating a scientific fact.

"Yeah."

"And I am not."

"... Finally something I beat you in."

"No matter what kind of advantage you may have over me now, I can assure you that it will not transfer to the racetr-"

Pokke plants another kiss onto Tachyon's neck. Firmer. Her words are cut off by a whimper-sigh that falls out of her mouth, her head instinctively leaning back as though begging for more.

"Pokke-kun, I do not enjoy being observed in moments of such vulnerability." Although these words are mostly muffled by the sleeve that she used to hastily cover her face.

Pokke pressed on, lazily tracing the visible anatomy with her lips and tongue.

"I got with people first to get over Fuji. Because god knows that crush was damn unattainable. That one worked at least. Eventually. But then, as they lay under me in my bed, quiverin' and heavy breathing after I was done with 'em. But then I started imagining seeing you under me instead. Hair dishevelled, makin' noises that I shouldn't think about coming from you, so completely destroyed in my grasp."

Pokke can feel Tachyon's heart rate accelerate once more against her own chest.

"And that absolutely only got worse with the more I saw you."

She traces a finger along Tachyon's jawline. Another shiver travelling up to her ears. So sensitive. 

"I could easily carry you to your desk and destroy you right now. I've been thinkin' about doing that for a while."

"Loss of sexual desire is a common side effect of many drugs." Tachyon states it like a warning.

Pokke can think of a lot of things in that moment to disprove that theory, most involving her mouth or fingers.

"Loss of, not absence," she continues, as if reading Pokke's thoughts.

"You're lucky all I wanna do right now is talk."

"Hm? A-anything in particular?" Absolutely failed confidence as another kiss runs through her. 

"... I was gonna be moving to France."

Pokke lays her forehead against Tachyon's neck, her ears touching her chin.

"I've been looking for a way to tell you for months. Kept putting it off. Telling myself, one more race in Japan that I'll win and then I'll go. And then I kept losin’ . Pushing back the deadline week by week. Cafe left and came back in that time. And I could still never pluck up the courage to tell you. Couldn't admit to myself that I was ready to leave you behind."

She sits up, looking at Tachyon dead in the eyes. Who of course stares back.

"Physical closeness prompts the participants to tell truths before not exposed..." she murmurs to herself, "I'll have to repeat this factor with sufficient equipment to read the changes in brain chemistry..."

"And now I've gone and injured myself. By the time I've recovered, I'll be past my prime. It's all over, Tachyon. I don't know where I'm supposed to go from here."

Soft, but filled with words of primal fear.

Pokke brushes the ribbon on Tachyon's uniform back into place, flattening out the creases. 

"My dear guinea pig, did you not once teach me that there is hope to run even after hitting that brick wall?"

"I guess but-"

"I'll be rejoining the racing scene with the Dream Trophy someday soon. Join me. With Cafe and Fuji. What is it that the public calls us? JAM? I'm sure there is some abbreviation that will include your dearest Fuji too. There's a race waiting for you to finally fulfill your revenge, and with it, the perfect potential of guinea pigs to study."

The Dream Series... Perhaps it was finally time to withdraw from the Twinkle Series too. The prime of her performance was as good as sealed. Prone to injury, no longer winning against the younger students, watching the ghost of her Japan Cup self running further and faster away.

"And what about Dantz? She'll be joining us too right?"

"I fear our wonderful Dantsu Flame has some... Demons to fight yet," Tachyon replies with curiosity across her face. "She can still be useful for my current thesis. But yes, she will eventually be by our sides."

"... I'll consider it. But only on one condition."

"Which would be?"

"We get to keep doing this. Otherwise, I might just lose myself."

"Then I have a condition too."

Pokke tilts her head slightly. That means her end of the deal was, at the very least, not dismissed. 

"Jungle Bucket, will you be the primary participant of my latest study, in which we explore the effect romantic relations have on both personal emotional and racing limits of umamusume?"

"... You couldn't just ask me out normally, huh."

"It would be presumptuous to assume you wanted to be exclusive, would it not?"

"Be exclusive- oh fuck you Tachyon."

"You mentioned other partners, did you not? I'm not to know if you're still pursuing them or-"

"SHUT UP AND BE MINE ALREADY TACHYON!!!" Pokke roars. Outside, a few birds fly off in panic, and no doubt juniors flee alongside them. Inexpiably, a Digitan elsewhere in Asia faints in the middle of the racetrack.

Tachyon ignores the assault to her ears.

"And so you'll keep up our end of the agreement?"

"Yes, obviously."

Tachyon outstretches an arm, holding a hand forward to be shaken.

"Pokke-kun, do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

And she shakes it firmly.

And doesn't let go. Crawling up further to Tachyon's shoulder, and down her body, stopping at the waist, the other hand joining as she pulls up the fabric from below the skirt, her warm, flushed hands feeling for skin beneath the uniform. Tachyon feels her eyes close once more, finding herself gripping onto Pokke to let her keep her balance, her fingers so tantalising close to those beautifully-refined muscles that-

"... Couch. Off. Now."

Cafe speaks to them like they're a bad dog.

She's stood in the doorway, neither of the other two people realising she had opened it. She just stands there, staring.

"You're no fun, Cafe." Pokke pouts, removing her hands from what would be a gorgeous taste of victory below her.

"... Go ruin your own hard earned money... Tachyon has plenty of property to destroy..."

Cafe, for the first time in her long life being in contact with the world beyond, considers hiding an exorcist for the horrors her poor sofa has witnessed. She makes a mental note to never sit on it again until she can set it on fire for a bit, probably. Charred sofa is better than... This.

Pokke slowly withdraws herself from Tachyon's lap, taking in every millisecond of the scientist's most unscientific face of her life.

And then there's a soft crunch. Tachyon's... Finger machine... Thingie. It's definitely not working anymore. The display is cracked and it has been sitting in water that is very slowly pooling out more and more as the ice melted. Pokke looks down at it. And remembers she had taken her sock off too. She's basically naked from one of her thighs down, her skirt folded up from how she sat. She'd been caught doing worse. She just shrugs it off and steps on the ground to the horrible sensation of water seeping into the other sock. 

"Yo, Cafe, you should really lighten up a bit. Start living a little. Your sofa could be dealing with a lot worse." Pokke immediately snaps back into her confidence. The usual kind.

Cafe breezes past the scene, heading straight for the coffee machine. "... You have no idea what I was doing in France."

Pokke notices that, well, she looks... Awful. Consistent since she got home from abroad. Even quieter than before.

"My friend... Could not follow me abroad. No spectators... I was free to do as I pleased... At least in my spare time..."

She fills her mug, stepping over the puddle to the sofa opposite, crossing her legs as she sits down to avoid getting her feet wet. Staring at the scene opposite as Pokke moves out of the way to grab her shoes.

"... You killed Tachyon. Finally someone did it."

"Ha, you wish."

Pokke grabs Tachyon's hand. Her face is unresponsive at first, eyes still closed with her mouth slightly open. Breathing erratically. Hugging her own chest to fill Pokke's now-desired absence. 

But then she returns, eyes snapping open and pulling her lab coat back over herself. She still has shoes on, so she escapes the water below her as she stands up next to Pokke, grinning and muttering to herself instantly. 

"What an interesting effect Pokke-kun has over my entire physiology... I must document this as soon as I can." And other tangents that Cafe did not care to listen to. 

She hums to herself as she practically ignores Pokke completely, turning her vision to the oximeter on the floor.

"Thankfully quite replaceable. I'm sure the infirmary won't mind if they find one of these missing in the meantime. Pokke however, her data would not be replaceable. I suppose this means I should take better care of her... And that injury..." she trails off, stepping away to her computer, pulling the desk chair behind her still flitting away with verbal ideas.

The new variable this time, however, is that her face is bright red, her neck vaguely exposed and her uniform untucked where hands had explored.

"Hmm, maybe if I created some kind of love potion, she could be a replicable factor. But it would need to be reciprocal, would it not? I could certainly Pavlov myself, as crude as it is, to like another, but would it be as effective if I'm not the blind trial in that setting? Perhaps if I were to introduce external oxytocin..."

Pokke now just tolerates the wet socks and throws on her shoes. 

"Tachyon, may I remind you of the empty dormitory room you now have with Digital's... Permanent departure."

"Ah, yes, of course! We can head over immediately and continue where we left off."

Pokke chokes. Again.

"Let us be off, dear Pokke-kun! I keep plenty of equipment for emergencies, so I can hook you up to my laptop and begin taking your vitals too!"

She pulls her laptop from the absolute pile at her desk, taking long strides to the door, kicking cardboard boxes out of the way. She latches her hand onto Pokke's as she brushes past, almost at the door.

That is, until, she's yanked backwards.

Cafe grabs her by the scruff of her lab coat collar.

"The mess... Is in my space... Clean it."

"Oh but Cafe-kun, can't you see I'm just so busy~?"

"Busy cleaning perhaps..."

It's like watching the fight between a puppy and a kitten. Neither capable of striking hard enough to hurt. Just the back-and-forth bickering that seemed to make up every one of their conversations. 

And Pokke did not want any part of it. The cleaning, that is. When Cafe inevitably wins.

"I should uh, go get changed before I uh- catch a cold! Right. Wet socks."

She laughs awkwardly, ignored by the two left bickering. And leaves the room. Sprinting.

"Oh Cafe, now look what you've done! You've scared my favourite guinea pig off before I have the chance to collect data for my new project!"

"... Just message her later. And... Grow up and call her your girlfriend."

"Don't tell me, you were here long enough to hear that?"

"It was about inevitable as your glorious Plan A failing."

"Ouch! Straight for the heart!"

"... You were the only one stupid enough on campus to not realise she had a crush on you."

"That doesn't make me st-"

"... Clean."

Tachyon throws up her hands in defeat, walking away to the cupboard to face her frequently-used dustpan and paper towels. Almost the most valuable assets of her long-standing scientific endeavours.

"And take a shower once you're done. ... You disgust me."

"You have such low standards of me, Cafe! I am not at that state of indignation after so little contact!"

Cafe scoffs. "You'll see for yourself later I suppose..."

Fuji Kiseki's dorm room bursts open with a screaming Pokke in the doorway.

"Why did I give her a key?" Fuji thinks, behind a smile, ready to face the onslaught of darling Noise Complaint. 

It's a garbled mess of oxygen-deprived joy and a vague amount of foot pain, finally ending on words that could actually be understood.

"-and I'm dating Agnes Tachyon!"

Fuji's eyes fly open.

"At last!"

She flies up from her sofa, right into the doorway where Pokke stands proudly. She picks her up with ease, wrapping her arms around her.

Pokke feels the scoop as it comes, a gentle but firm hand rubbing her hair as if to say 'well done!'. She feels the tears welling over into her uniform, as Fuji often did cry over Pokke's achievements. She doesn't see the dirt flicked up her socks, or the damp line of drying moisture that's mostly hidden by her slippers, at least not for now. She doesn't even acknowledge the creases in her skirt, the one sock not pulled up properly, or the mess that was left of her collar. 

Pokke waits for the inevitable spark in her chest, the one that craves for Fuji deeper. The one that appears every time they hug close, or when Fuji lazily rubs Pokke's head when they sit out in the sun. But it doesn't come. It just feels like... A nice, proud, platonic hug.

"Wait, Fuji, I didn't even tell you I liked Tachyon?"

"You didn't need to tell us. Nabe-san and I have known for a long time now. As does the rest of campus."

She places Pokke back down, grinning. 

And Pokke had just... Yelled about dating Tachyon through the entire Ritto dorm. It was so over.

Fuji saw the cogs turn as it happened. Just smiles as Pokke coughs and spins on her heels, looking down at the ground in embarrassment.

"I'm going to France. Bye," she mutters through a blush, taking her leave without another word.

Fuji just sighs at the door left rudely open. 

“I can’t believe they made toxic yuri real.”