Chapter Text
"The hell'd I walk in on?"
Jungle Pocket was feeling pretty irritated today, but the sight she'd walked in on somehow just incensed the embers of feeling underneath her chest.
In the abandoned classroom Cafe and Tachyon'd repurposed as their little clubroom -- a place Pokke defiantly breached in her declaration of war -- Pokke'd found Tachyon slavishly, in her own words, looking after Cafe's leg.
What was this?
The Tachyon she last met brushed her off without so much of a care in the world.
I believe the matter has been settled.
Pokke loathed it, from the depths of her heart. When she interrogated the feeling for the first time, it was because she wanted to beat Tachyon on the turf, of course. She just wanted to wipe that smug -- no, it was superficially smug, but it was a smirk like she was goading her to see something else underneath it. It was a smirk of someone who was going to plant herself so firmly and deeply into her she wasn't going to let go.
And obsess over it she would. But now she found this?!
"I'm tending to Cafe's nails," Tachyon quietly advised, putting away what Pokke could observe were podiatric tools. A specialised nail clipper, several thin needle-like tools to ensure her nail care was in the best of health.
The smouldering flame inside Jungle Pocket stoked. She didn't realise it at the time, but a new, jealous-green flame burned brighter than the flames of ambition within her.
"Hmm," Cafe quietly mused, her cold, golden eyes peering inquisitively at Jungle Pocket.
Pokke didn't like that gaze. It felt like Cafe peeled back all her layers and intuited what was underneath. She deflected, snorted and goaded Tachyon, "That's it? You're gonna leave me in the ditch and just play lackey for the rest of your Tracen years?"
Tachyon was silent at that. Her expression didn't move a muscle, but Cafe heard something bleed inside of her.
"... as I told you the last time," Tachyon moved on autopilot, "I'm done with such frivolous things as running. I'm moving onto Plan B, you see. To discover the limits of Umamusume, I'll see to it that my subjects are in the best of condition."
"Yeah, yeah, Plan B, Plan Ass, whatever. And how'd you pick out Cafe here as your newest guinea pig?"
"... though ailed by her poor health and erratic swings in body weight and poorly explained pressure on her sesamoids, I see the potential Cafe has," Tachyon swung back.
And I'm just chopped basashi to you? Pokke wanted to throw out.
"Pish to that. You want a guinea pig? I'll show you running so out of your freaking mind you'll pop like a pinata," Pokke diverted to safe lanes once more, like she were prudently positioning herself like a nimble navigator.
"... I'm looking forward to it," Tachyon said, somewhat guardedly.
You freaking liar, Pokke wanted to shout. She wanted to seize and shake her like the ragdoll she seemed to be, with all the spirit and life drained out of her since the end of the Satsuki Sho. Goddesses, she wanted to grab hold of her chin and force her to keep those dull red eyes on no one but herself.
Jungle Pocket still remembered the day they met, the way she'd caught her off guard by groping her damn calves of all things. Where was that strange, mesmerising girl that made her so worked up she declared war on her? Theirs was going to be an explosive, messy epic, the kind of thing that wouldn't stop until one of their hearts stopped, and it fizzled out into nothing.
No, it wasn't nothing.
If it was nothing, Pokke wouldn't be here, getting all worked up and sweaty about it.
What was Cafe looking at? She had this look that was so damn hard to parse. That girl's got a mean poker face, she should drag her in front of Festa and win a handful of carats offa her. Pokke still didn't like it, though. Not because Pokke thought Cafe was looking down on her or anything, it just felt like...
Sympathy?
Pokke didn't need it one damn bit.
Goddesses, she's too worked up now. Pokke still recalled the day she witnessed, on a sunset that painted the town red, Tachyon's sudden announcement. The girl who was the talk of all Tokyo on the Twinkle Series announced an indefinite hiatus, leaving behind nothing but a phantom of 'what-ifs'. Maybe that's what it's like to have a 'friend', like Cafe so often said.
Pokke recalled the mad, full-power sprint she took to get to the same abandoned classroom they now stood in. She dove straight in front of a bus at one point. Not sure what traffic laws there were for Umamusume. She didn't care. She needed to hear it from Tachyon herself.
When she got there, Pokke recalled breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Tachyon on her feet -- that wasn't too bad. She could heal from that leg wound, right? There was a kindling of hope. They'd be back at it in months. Pokke'd even help, she thought, so naively. What a loser.
Then, with a single line, Tachyon dashed any and all hope Pokke had.
I can't afford to waste my time on pointless activities.
The cloying scent of sickly-sweet sugar-tea choking the room, smelling so sickly-sweet of sugar-tea, Pokke seized her shoulders, shaking her so hard she's still uncertain she didn't dislocate something on her body.
And then the ship flew off in the midst of the night without her, like she was just another girl at port.
"You've been staring for a while now," Tachyon broke the silence, her voice quiet and moderate, "Pocket-kun. Can I help you with something else?"
Pokke's gut wrenched tight. She wanted her to call her Baguette or Bucket again. It pissed her off, but it felt lively. Personal. Intimate. That was her name-calling, just for her! Now she's just Pocket?! Like every other classmate! Her name'd been drowned out amongst the masses.
What did Cafe have that she didn't--
Oh.
"Tch... whatever, do your thing," Pokke relented, a bomb defused inside of her. Even if she detonated here now, she'd just receive the same stone wall Tachyon presented as a front. It was horrible. It was the look of someone who was just waiting there for her to leave, like she was expired goods.
Pokke spared one glance to Cafe again, wondering if her eyes looked bitter and jealous, then marched out.
Five seconds passed.
"... you're being very cold to her," Cafe pointed out. "Why?"
"I don't believe I'm being dismissive," Tachyon answered placidly, but nearly leapt out of her skin when Cafe jolted close, nose to nose with the researcher, those inquisitive golden eyes of hers piercing holes towards her dull red ones like they truly could start a double-slit experiment in earnest now.
"... Liar. Your face is red..."
Tachyon wilted in an instant, her stubby ears flat atop her head. Her cheeks flush red and her breath erratic, Tachyon placed her oversized sleeve against her mouth like it were a guard against her gaze.
"Of-- of course it would be, if you suddenly shot up to me like that!"
Cafe kept her expression even, but she didn't allow Tachyon to break eye contact.
"Hmmmm."
Thrown off her game, Tachyon desperately went for routine and gathered her hands around Cafe's foot again, returning to her treatment of her nails.
"At present, I'm your advisor. I said I'd become your advisor. And thus, I'm focused on treating you. Ensuring that your health doesn't decline further. Ensuring that you receive the tests and examinations you need. You still wish to run by your friend's side, hmm?"
Cafe returned Tachyon's boilerplate words with nothing but silence, continuing to gaze deep into those eyes.
"C-Cafe..." Tachyon tucked her head to one side. "Stop..."
"You have to make an effort with Pokke," Cafe stipulated.
"H-huh?" that got her attention.
Cafe sat back, then took her foot entirely away from Tachyon's hands, despite her whining.
"That's.... my condition."