Fandom: Uma Musume: Pretty Derby
Rating: G
Characters/relationships: Agnes Tachyon, Jungle Pocket, Manhattan Cafe (PokeTaki kinda implied, can be JAM if you wanna)
Warnings: Diabetic character and a not really recommended reaction to hypoglycemia.
Summary:
Jungle Pocket was having a normal day. That's until she came across Agnes Tachyon sitting on the floor in an empty hallway. Now Jungle Pocket's day is very nerve wracking.
---Jungle Pocket was having a normal day. A fine day, even. Classes were not too boring, she didn't completely tank her English homework, they served a nice dessert in the cafeteria today and the weather for training later was looking very promising. AND Pocket was excused from her next class 'cause her and Dantsu had already done their presentation last time. One could say the day was almost great!
That's until she rounded up a corner and was suddenly faced with Tachyon. Not just Tachyon, she would be fine with just Tachyon. But this was a Tachyon half-laying down on the floor with her back somewhat propped against a wall. A Tachyon on the floor in the middle of a fucking empty school hallway. A Tachyon with her eyes closed and her skin covered in sheen of sickly sweat and so pale she almost blended in with her lab coat.
So, as one may imagine, at the present moment Jungle Pocket's day is very, very confusing.
"Yo, Tachyon?!" Immediately feeling a sharp sort of panic jolt inside, Pokke crouches in front of her, trying and miserably failing to quickly decide if she should, like, check her forehead for fever, or go straight for checking the pulse — or shake her awake first, maybe that's a better option, right? Or--
Tachyon, thankfully, saves her from that particular conundrum by cracking one eye open. It's alert enough, which is good, but it does slightly twitch as she registers Pokke in front of her. Almost like she didn't expect her. Or expected anyone but.
"Pokke," she tries at her usual high-pitched greeting, but it's so out of breath it sounds more like a hoarse whisper. Her lips stretch in a smile, but it's painfully unconvincing. She even gives a wave of her arm, but it's weak and not very well coordinated. A pathetic flop, if you will. Said Pokke is growing more and more alarmed by the millisecond.
"Tachyon, what the hell?! Are you hurt? Sick? Did you poison yourself with somethin'? What's going on?!"
One thing about Pokke — she's always down to help. Almost anyone, really, but especially a friend. Which she fully considers Tachyon to be, despite certain complications that seem to be constantly happening between them. What she absolutely hates, however, is not knowing HOW to help, and Tachyon is a champion at withholding clues from her and leaving her feeling like a useless and frustrated piece of crap.
"I am fine," this fucking liar says. Pokke scoffs.
"You're laying on the damn floor."
"I am sitting," Tachyon objects with an offended grimace, as if that somehow makes a crucial difference. "And I am... conserving energy. A simple... miscalculation. Lack of nutrition. Just... take me to my lab."
"Lack of-- For how long have you not eaten?!"
"Since yesterday." Tachyon lifts up both arms towards her. "Lab. Now."
It's phrased like an order, but it sounds... almost whiny. Like a kid demanding you carry them 'cause they got tired of walking. So unlike the arrogant scientist talking a mile a second in words no one understands with a smile that would infuriate even a dead man. The stark difference kind of messes with Pocket's brain right now.
But also she's finally been given a clear route to help, and that's enough for her to spring into action and leave all that pondering for later.
"Liar," she huffs, helping Tachyon up and letting her rest her weight on her shoulder. She grabs her discarded bag, too. "No one powers down like that just 'cause they skipped a meal or two. You look like you had no food for like, a week or somethin'."
"Do not," Tachyon grumbles to the best of her ability, swaying, clearly dizzy, and straining to keep herself upright even when hanging off of Pokke, "accuse me of lying. I am a scientist with honor, I'll let you know."
"Right. Sure."
As they start walking, Pocket grabs Tachyon's waist to stabilize her more, and just a few steps later she's struck by just how... little there is of Tachyon.
Now that they are pressed together she can feel that Tachyon is weirdly thin and light somewhere under all those oversized clothes. Pokke can't really tell if that's a dangerous thinness or if she's just built that way. It's still striking to realize — Tachyon was such an imposing presence on the track, she takes up so much space in her lab by being loud and frequently moving and swinging her sleeves around, it's honestly hard to tell how... small she actually is.
And right now, considering the circumstances, it's frankly startling.
Pretty soon, however, Pokke stops thinking about that, 'cause a more pressing matter catches her attention: Tachyon's movements are getting slower and slower by the second, and her weight on Pocket's shoulder is noticeably increasing.
"Oi, Tachyon," she nervously chuckles. "Keep moving your legs, will ya?"
"Mm," comes a weirdly uncharacteristic reply. Then, with a delay: "'am moving, Pokke".
A chill runs down Pocket's spine. Tachyon is not quite slurring, but there's something off about her speech now. Like she's not quite present, even if still annoyed.
"Dude, are you sure you don't need a doctor?!"
Tachyon doesn't answer right away, but Pokke can see her ears pin to her head.
"No doctors... Lab. Food."
Clear enough. After briefly debating if she should go to the nurse anyway, as a responsible one or whatever, Pokke ends up admitting that the lab is closer right now anyway. Also she really, really wants to believe that Tachyon knows herself best and not come off as a presumptuous ass.
And yet by the time they stand in front of the door Tachyon seems to have checked out completely, and Pokke is regretting her decision quickly and horribly.
She kicks the door aside with her foot and an immense wave of relief washes over her as soon as she sees Cafe in her usual corner.
"Cafe!" she exclaims with a frantic enthusiasm of a sailor lost at sea finally noticing land on the horizon. "Help, I--" She drags Tachyon in the room so that Cafe can see the issue. "I found her on the damn floor in the hallway and now she's like this and I don't even know what--"
Cafe takes one look at Tachyon's limp figure and stands up, nodding at the couch she freed up.
Pokke very quickly takes the hint and puts Tachyon down, propping her up sitting against the back of the couch. She figures, if food is the issue, then there'd be a smaller risk of choking this way, although it can't be really--
"Here."
She turns and sees a box of sugar cubes right in front of her face. Cafe looks at her with the usual blank stare, waiting.
"Wha--?"
"Put one in her mouth." Cafe says quietly, but firmly. By this point Pokke is unsure if all of this isn't a fever dream.
"Sugar?! Shouldn't we give her proper food? She said she hasn't eaten since yesterday, but I mean, look at her, she's clearly lying--"
"Not lying." Cafe's stare starts burning a hole in Pocket's face, so she, however confused, takes a cube and turns to Tachyon.
Easier said than done. Pocket never had to shove stuff into someone's mouth while they are unconscious. Granted, it would probably be even weirder if Tachyon was lucid.
She definitely should not be thinking about that right now.
"You're wasting time..." Cafe says, and there's something ominously urgent in her tone that immediately makes Pokke's hair stand on its end. What's her deal, making it sound like Tachyon could die without this damn sugar cube? ...wait, could she?!
"Why do I have to do it?!"
"You're the one... sitting with her right now."
And doing so in a way that makes it harder for Cafe to approach. Fair enough. Well, dammit, she's the strongest umamusume in this damn school. She can do this. It isn't even hard, the way Tachyon's mouth already hangs slightly open. Grab her chin, not too hard, open her mouth further. Put the sugar past her teeth, carefully, can't like, throw it in, she'd choke. Try really hard not to accidentally touch her lips with your fingers, because that could be weird for some reason. Accidentally touch her lips with your clumsy fucking fingers. Wish you could strangle yourself. Slowly close her mouth and wait for sugar to dissolve.
Remember that you have to breathe.
"Are you sure that's enough?" red faced Pokke eventually asks with great doubt, letting Tachyon rest against her shoulder so that her head doesn't lull. Cafe takes a sip of her coffee, watching both of them closely.
"Yes. She'll be back soon... We'll see from there."
"Why are you so calm about this?" Pokke is only now realizing that her whole body twitches nervously, from tail to ears. She's a racer, dammit, she never really dealt with a lot of... this. Scraped knees, bruises, fractures even, that she'd seen plenty of. But none of her gang ever wiped out so hard they lost consciousness. Let alone from, like, nothing at all. Allegedly.
"It happens to her." Cafe signs. "She skips a meal or two and suddenly... well, this."
"This is a frequent thing?!"
"Depends on what she eats... or doesn't." Another sip of coffee and a disapproving ear flick. "I tell her she should look into it, but... You know how she is. When it's not about her... research."
Now that's a question, isn't it? Does Pokke actually know 'how she is'?
This morning she would've said "yes". After all, it's a good practice to know your rival, not to mention all that time Tachyon spent living in her head rent-free.
But now in a very short time frame Pocket discovered that Tachyon apparently gets whiny and demanding when she's feeling out of it, is skinny as a stick under her heap of clothing and habitually crashes down if she skips a meal or two. It's enough to send her mind reeling with new information.
"There's actually a piece of chocolate... In the inner pocket of her coat. For this."
"Huh?! Why didn't she tell me that?"
"Probably forgot. I put it there...in case there's no sugar on hand."
Final nail in the coffin of Pocket suddenly keenly feeling like an intruder. She slowly deflates, feeling her ears flop. Traitors.
Cafe squints at her, leaving her no chance but to talk.
"Cafe... Am I, like. Getting between you two?"
Cafe's eyebrows raise in obvious, if amused skepticism.
"You're...a bit late for that."
"Huh? Whaddaya mean?"
"What 'gets between us'...is herself. And my refusal to take part in her...experiments." Cafe shrugs. "And I'm still...mad about certain things. Besides that...we are what we are. Personally...I think it's a good thing you are here."
Pocket's tail flips involuntarily.
"...how so?"
"For one...I get to hide in the library less. You have a death wish anyway."
"I do not?! What's that supposed to mean?!"
Cafe shrugs again, refusing to elaborate.
"What I'm saying is...it's good to see her not alone. Apart from me."
Not alone, huh. Pokke looks at the mop of hair on her shoulder again. Thinks about the way she heard other people, even trainers, talk about Tachyon. About the way she never saw her talk or hang out with anyone after class, besides Cafe and before her and Dantsu, of course, or the way no one ever stops by the lab unless they really need something done for them. The way none of them could understand what was going through Tachyon's head because she never trusted any of them enough to let them in. The way she seemed to have been left entirely alone once Cafe stopped hanging around that one time. The way even Dantsu, the nice sweet Dantsu, was initially worried about barging in her space. She thinks about Tachyon sitting in that damn hallway alone, losing consciousness, and not bothering to even call anyone on her phone.
All these memories do make her believe that maybe it's good they are here now.
She is here now.
It also makes her heart squeeze in a weird sorta rage. Like, if someone was being mean to Tachyon right now, Pokke would soooo punch them!! Which is a weird feeling, 'cause. Well, for one, no one is here being mean, and second, Tachyon could probably do some shit to them herself. Still. It's this strange...protectiveness, almost.
"It's just," she laments quietly, "I only now realize how little I know about her."
"Then learn more about her," Cafe says. "I had more time...and maybe little choice. Why compare?"
"True, I guess... Hey, Cafe," Pokke perks up with an idea. "Could you tell me more about her? Like this whole fainting stuff?"
"...possibly," Cafe hesitantly considers. "But not right now."
"Why not?"
"Because she has been awake for...the last five minutes or so."
Mortified, Pokke watches one of Tachyon's ears flick, caught in the act, before she sheepishly slides down Pocket's shoulder.
"Caaafeee," Tachyon whines, begrudgingly assuming an upright position herself. "Must you ruin this opportunity to gather data for me?"
"Eavesdropping," corrects Cafe, unperturbed.
"Same thing, same thing." Tachyon feels around her mouth, swallowing the last of the sugar slush, stretches her arms over her head and gets up, shaky, but steady enough, not really looking at any of them. "Welp, I am almost back to optimal parameters! My biggest thanks to you, Pokke, for bringing me to my lab. It appears I, as they say, owe you one. What could I offer, I wonder... a sample? Or perhaps some kinda concoction tailored specifically to you! Hmm..."
Pocket looks at her, fighting a multitude of emotions all at once, ranging from embarrassment to relief. Watches the way Tachyon is looking around her lab in thought, avoiding her eyes seemingly by accident. There's something burning in her chest now.
And Jungle Pocket doesn't let things stew inside her for long if she can help it.
"Hey, Tachyon, can I ask you a question? Like, a personal one, I mean." She stumbles at the end a bit.
Tachyon's ears stand up straight and it takes her a second before she shrugs.
"Well, it would make me a hypocrite to discourage your curiosity, wouldn't it? But are you sure that's the favor you want? I could really--"
"I am sure," Pokke interrupts, leaning forward like a jungle cat ready to pounce. The possibility of Tachyon finally letting her get under her skin if only a little bit is weirdly thrilling.
Tachyon sighs.
"A pity. Fine, then. Ask."
A thousand questions bloom in Pokke's head immediately. Small ones, big ones, on various topics. Why don't you ever strength train? Why did you retire? Why did you decide to come back? What other things like this fainting one are up with you? What's the biggest thing I don't know about you? Why are you built like a sick Victorian child?
What comes out, however, for some reason, is:
"What's up with your trainer? Do you even have one?"
Tachyon's shoulders suddenly sag with relief and she huffs a breath, almost a chuckle.
"That's what you're going with? Well, it's easy, Pokke." She walks over to the nearest shelf and starts picking some of her stuff off of it. "I had a trainer. On paper I still have one, but she, well, didn't last." She waves a hand around. "You see, I expected my trainer to also be sort of a guinea pig for me, you know? Equal exchange. She gets the wins to boast about, and I can further my research without chasing after subjects. Fair enough, if you ask me."
If you ask Pocket, the wins themselves are supposed to be your reward as the athlete, not just for your trainer, but she bites her tongue.
"Alas," Tachyon continues, "that got to be too much for her, apparently. And then she couldn't really handle me deciding for myself if I'm racing or not, nor could she make peace with me not divulging information she frankly didn't need at that moment, so...we parted ways. She's my trainer only in the name now, so that I could still race, should I decide to." There's a very, very well-hidden, barely noticeable note of bitterness in her carefree voice. The lack of trust in her autonomy and her expertise was apparently...hurtful. Even though it doesn't look like she acknowledges that herself.
Pokke has a better thing to zero in on though.
"Wait, your TRAINER didn't even know you were retiring or why?"
Tachyon hums.
"Yes. Although I do believe that's technically a second question, and I only agreed to one."
"Wha--? How's one question enough for a 'favor' or whatever?!"
"You were the one who said you wanted to ask 'a question'! Singular!" Tachyon chirps with obvious glee and finally turns to look at Pokke with a sly glint in her eyes. "I'll be generous and throw that second one in for free. But if you intend to ask more, I'm afraid I must insist I get something out of it! Say," she shakes a little vial in her fingers, plastering a maniac smile on her face again, "how about this: I'll let you become my guinea pig, seeing as I'm currently out of one! One answer in exchange for one experiment!"
Pokke, however appalled, gets an uncanny feeling that Tachyon expects her to refuse. That all of this is a warning sign telling her to back down and never attempt to come this close again.
Unfortunately for them both, Pokke also feels a deep, clawing frustration at this turn of events. The jungle cat has narrowly missed the mouse and is not happy about it.
She looks at the vial and clenches her teeth.
All the questions in her head are still there.
The illusory slippery Tachyon in her imagination is back, but this time she's taunting her with being an entirely different kind of uncatchable.
And perhaps Pokke is a fool, but she's not ready to stop chasing her.
"Deal," she says, getting up to look Tachyon directly in the eyes. "I'll do it."
Something twitches in Tachyon's expression. The brash confidence in her eyes cracks, her smile ever so slightly falters, betraying a surprise, or perhaps some kind of internal struggle. But she holds on to the mask well.
"My, my," she drawls, leaning her hip on the counter. "And to think you'd be so eager about it, too. Am I truly that interesting, Pokke?"
"Call it my topic of research," Pokke mocks with a challenger grin. Tachyon raises an eyebrow, amused.
"Well then, you'll have to let me read your paper when you're done." She turns around, looking at her massive stock of various substances, and finally picks up one that's not even looking particularly glowy. "Here. You'll have to take it in one gulp right before training. In theory it should allow you to manage your oxygen better."
"And in practice?"
Tachyon snorts.
"And in practice — whatever happens to you, Pokke. You do know what guinea pigs are for, no?"
Right. Stupid question.
Pokke is already way past the gate to turn back now. So she grabs the vial out of Tachyon's hand and jabs a finger at her.
"Gotcha. And then after I am done, I'll be back with a question. You better be ready to answer. No bullshit."
Tachyon cocks her head to the side.
"You must know then, that I won't answer every question. There are things that I'd rather not talk about. Or at least not until I choose to."
Pocket huffs.
"Fine. Keep your mysterious secrets or whatever. But otherwise be ready!"
"Why, Pokke," Tachyon laughs. "I'll do you one better. I'll be waiting."
Pokke's tail whips as she clutches the vial in her fist.
Cafe sighs, sipping her coffee again.
"See," she comments to someone no one sees. "As I said...a death wish."