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Agony and the subsequent adrenaline. Coursing through her veins. No clue how she got from the interview room to her lab. Just that the door slams open in her grip. Every step on that foot sending waves of electricity up her whole body. The rising feeling of sickness that came with it. The horrible inevitability in her chest that screams that Plan A is dead and buried.
No matter, the path for Plan B has been carved. Her name stands brilliant as the winner of the first leg of the triple crown. A rival in the memory of such a crushing defeat. Potential to be surpassed - to break the limits of umamusume themselves. Just without its strongest participant to date.
At least there's-
Agnes Tachyon's body hits the floor. There is only so long one can upkeep adrenaline.
A pathetic pile of pain and lab coat.
Cafe simply looks up. Not pausing her drink. Observing.
"Good evening dear Cafe! It seems I made it back just in time before my body gave in!" Tachyon laughs from the floor. But it's not her laugh. It's choked and disheartened.
"... Or your reality finally set in... Now that your body knows it's somewhere safe..." Cafe mutters, too quiet for Tachyon to hear.
"Now Cafe, be a dear and pull my chair over? I'll be quite fine to sort myself out from there."
"... Idiot."
But Cafe does finally respond, slowly placing her mug down and walking to the back of the room. Tachyon's desk is nothing short of a disgrace, as always. The footage of the first race between Tachyon and Pokke is still pulled up. Tachyon had zoomed in on Pokke only, despite the crushing defeat of the other. Beside that, a million papers littered with equations and theoretical numbers, some stained with tea and erratic pen scribbles.
She blinks, uncaring. Tachyon's business is Tachyon's business. As long as her mess didn't reach Cafe's little piece of haven.
She pulls the chair over, making it halfway to Tachyon before facing her again.
But instead of that usual, wide-eyed grin and frenzied gaze, she finds Tachyon with tears rolling down her face. She's making an effort to stop them before Cafe sees, but the more she tries to hide it, the more they seem to fall. She's not even blinking, just wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her labcoat as the tears she can't catch stain her uniform instead.
Cafe lets go of the chair.
"... Tachyon."
"Oh! What a strange involuntary reaction to collapsing!"
"Tachyon."
"And they just won't stop coming! I'll have to note this down to remember this sensation and-"
"-Tachyon."
Cafe finally cuts her off, and for once, Tachyon actually stops talking. She's still crying. Like a child, Cafe notes.
"I... Please don't look at me like that, Cafe. I promise you I'm fine, this is just a momentary miscalculation that I had not accounted for when setting out plan B. I'm perfectly okay."
"You're... Not fine... Tachyon," Cafe responds, her voice even softer than usual.
And that small acknowledgement of her pain was enough to send Tachyon over the edge. Her eyes close, the crimson finally succumbing to the dark room, tears falling twice as hard as her chest begins to shake. She's still suppressing sobs into her sleeve, doing everything to hide from Cafe as she cowers by the door.
Wordlessly, Cafe walks over and picks Tachyon up, carrying her bridal style in order to keep her foot in a safe position. She's so delicately light, her frame so frail under the baggy uniform. It didn't surprise Cafe, however, who knew that Tachyon did not eat often. And was also prone to not sleeping. In fact, the only times she'd seen Tachyon eat anything substantial was either when she was studying some sort of food-related experiment, or those few times Cafe had brought her some breakfast after going out for coffee, just out of sheer curiosity as to whether she was some kind of vampire and did not need to eat. Of course, Tachyon being awake in the morning at all meant she'd pulled an all nighter, and was near-starving, so she'd devoured the sweet bread like it was her last meal before death.
Cafe can feel the tears rolling onto her nice, fresh-out-of-the-wash, white shirt. Making a mental note to go change, she places Tachyon down onto the sofa, leaving her sat up and head hunched over as Cafe takes her own seat.
Tachyon stays silent. A rare treat. It was a wonder she wasn't going on about "the effects of crying on the parasympathetic system" or whatever. She could almost hear her own response to it too. "Yes Tachyon... We all know that crying is a stress reliever..." she would say, probably immediately leaving the room to leave Tachyon to her own business. But this is different. Eyes closed, sobbing her eyes out, silent Tachyon is a scary beast that not a single person on campus would know she's even capable of. And she's still as a statue. Definitely not the Tachyon who flails her annoying sleeves around and pulls out flasks and vials from who knows where.
Cafe just sighs quietly. Tachyon probably hears it too.
"You're... So stupid..." she murmurs, pushing Tachyon against her own shoulder as her whole body shakes.
Tachyon sobs even harder.
"It's over, Cafe! I'm gone..." she wails between ragged breaths. And faceplants into Cafe's collar. Great.
"You still exist... As the goalpost... Correct?"
"And you think it matters that I exist to what, three other people? What about when you all surpass me? When I finish my research, and all that's left is for me to fade into obscurity...?"
"Then... You come forward with that research and the next generation... They break their limits too?"
"It should've been me, Cafe! It was supposed to be me! But look at me! I was damned with these genetics from the start! What am I without my feet?"
"... I'd argue you're a toddler pulling a tantrum about not being centre stage for once in your life," is what Cafe wants to say. But it's not the time.
"... It's not the time for semantics. Regardless... The way Pocket looked at you when you won... I doubt she's going to forget you any time soon."
Tachyon doesn't respond to that. She never responds well to the idea of someone giving a shit about her. Such is the way of a deeply self-absorbed scientist. Nobody can care about her more than she cares about herself. And if her diet and sleep patterns were any indication, she has no self-respect outside of being alive enough to a point of data in her own studies.
"... Would you want some tea... And perhaps something to replace the salt you've lost..."
Tachyon shakes her head, smearing her tears. Which had also seemed to slow down, as her breathing began to regulate from the choppy breaths that had consumed her whole. Who knows if she actually felt anything deeper than that. Like grief, or anger. Probably not.
"Then... What do you want to do...?"
Tachyon just reaches out and grabs Cafe's hand, squeezing it as if to say "please stay here". Cafe obliges. There goes her plan of getting changed and grabbing a snack on the way back to the lab.
Tachyon's breath finally slows. Cafe looks down, and sees Tachyon's eyelashes, crusted in dry tears. Eyes still closed. From this close up, it's so plain to see how little she takes care of herself. Hair all tangled, heavy eyebags and her eyebrows furrowed as though rest was unknown to them. Setting up Plan B had damn near killed her at this point. Cafe makes another mental note, this time to start showing race results, and fast. Not only her friend was beckoning, but now this insane scientist is calling for her too. "It must be about time for my potential to emerge," she thought to herself.
After a while, Cafe realises that Tachyon has not spoken for what must be the longest time in her life. She even muttered in her sleep when her body gave up, her mind constantly persisting.
She looks down at the figure below her. And it's with a small smile, she realises that Tachyon had fallen asleep. Tiny snores compressed into fabric, her face free of any worry or doubt. As her friend would put it, "out cold and dead to the world".
"You're so stupid..." Cafe whispers, propping Tachyon's foot onto the table, and for the first time in probably in her entire time at the academy, Tachyon gets a good few hours of healthy, unburdened sleep.