Chapter Text
This was it. The final stretch of the Satsuki Sho. 2000 meters of turf, firmly and neatly packed into a racetrack, where the dreams of Umamusume came to shine brightly. Where their constant hard work would finally pay off, and they could bask in the spotlight, even if only for a moment. It didn't matter what the objective was — Money, fame, glory, personal goals, all of that was there for the taking. Even those that simply ran for no reason other than enjoyment had to pour mind, soul and body into that racetrack if they wished to step on it.
None of that mattered to her. Only one thing did: Speed. Overwhelming, incomprehensible speed. Every waking moment would be spent on the pursuit of achieving even faster results, be it through rigorous training or through research. Meals could be skipped and sleep hours cut, as long as it meant extra hours poured into finding out the limit. Classes, social events and studying, all ignored if it meant finding out how to reach and surpass it.
It didn't matter how far she had to take her experiments, as long as it didn't hurt anyone else's body too badly, she was willing to execute it. Destruction of property, public inconveniences, even the use of some questionable substances were allowed, but never intentional bodily harm. She was a researcher and a runner. A little deranged, yes, but not malicious. She knew the boundaries of her studies.
And she also was painfully aware of the boundaries of her own body. With her fragile legs, it was hard to tell when they would give out entirely. Maybe tomorrow, maybe never. Still, it meant she needed to be extra careful and create a backup. Plan A was for herself to reach that limit. Plan B was for someone else to do it, with her assistance of course.
It involved sparking a rivalry, carefully watching over their training and slowly nurturing a powerhouse of an Umamusume that couldn't be contained. Gently nudging them towards greatness, sometimes more forcefully than others, but to the benefit of both of them all the same. It was a rather passive plan, save for the running she'd also have to do, but a good plan nonetheless.
Plan A meant arduous training, chemical concoctions and careful planning of her races. Overexertion could mean an injury, and while she would still race again, it would definitely complicate achieving her own personal goal. The satisfaction of reaching beyond that light on the horizon herself…
200 meters. Cafe and Pocket were in front of her. Plan B was working just fine, no need to rush herself… And yet she felt unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. Her body responded by moving her legs faster. Her feet slammed against the dirt and grass below her harder. Her muscles didn't ache at all.
160 meters. The world around her started to become a blur. Her eyes focused solely on the finish line, while the crowd of onlookers became a smear of colors. Their screams and cheers, although incomprehensible, faded into pure white noise. Her heartbeat was louder than all of them together.
120 meters. She overtook Pocket. Of course she did it. The girl was a brute with a heart of gold, and was destined for great things, sure. But not this. The hatred in Pocket's eyes as she was passed could almost be mistaken for the genuine thing, but she knew it was just her competitive nature. She'll get over it.
80 meters. She overtook Cafe. Naturally. The girl was always chasing shadows, but those only existed because of light. Cafe was right in trying to catch up, but she was chasing the wrong thing. Umamusume were meant to run alongside light itself, not darkness. One day, Cafe would catch up with her friend. But today was the day to touch light itself, and it wasn't Cafe's place to do so.
40 meters. Her world started losing color, all of its light blending into a messy rainbow before pure darkness swallowed her whole. Even in her blindness, she kept running. Then she saw it . Threads of pure gold, right in front of her, running faster than anything she’s ever seen. Anything that has ever existed. The limit.
Not the limits of her broken body. Not a personal best. Not a record set by a former runner. Not a theoretical limit of how fast a Umamusume can run.
The limit. The hard, unbreakable limit of what anyone, anywhere and anytime, will ever achieve.
Her arm stretched to it, and instantly she felt her body course with pain, like a bolt of lightning rising up from her legs to her brain. She hesitated, slowed down, and returned to a world of colors. When her senses came about, the race was over. She won first place by a landslide. She looked back to see both of her rivals staring at her in disbelief, exhausted.
She couldn't stand firmly on her left foot, and would need an indefinite hiatus to treat herself, but she was satisfied. She knew the limit, and almost reached it herself. Plan A was a partial success, and Plan B could proceed as—
RING RING RING
Agnes Tachyon woke up in a cold sweat, immediately tossing her blankets away as she slammed her fist against the alarm clock. 02:13 AM. Why the hell was it set up to ring at this hour? Did she forget something so basic for her functioning, in her research crazed state? But more importantly than that…
That dream. That cursed dream. That nightmare. She felt disgusted with herself. Happy for merely grazing it. For barely keeping up. For feeling content in mediocrity. She looked down at her legs, trembling still, as if the phantom pain still haunted her. But… It gave her an important insight for her research, one she hadn't previously considered before. Why would she, after all? Plan A by itself was already risky. This was complete madness.
She slowed her breathing down, but despite her efforts it remained sporadic and intense — The new idea brewing in her mind was making her heart race with both morbid excitement and overwhelming fear. She pulled her legs closer, hugging them gently, as if they were going to shatter at any second.
Plan B didn't need her. It could move onward even if she didn't run anymore.
Plan A had its costs, but the results were pitiful. A part of her body and life, for a fraction of the result. It wasn't enough.
A wicked smile came across her face, and a quiet, desperate giggle followed soon after. She clutched her legs tighter. So be it.
Plan C it is.
“You’re almost late, ya know?” Pocket barked at Tachyon’s direction, finishing her stretches inside the stall. “I’d hate it if I couldn’t make you eat dirt because you couldn’t make it!” The brute suddenly grabbed the bars beside her, propping herself up and nearly vaulting over the thing, just to stare down at her rival. A single cold glare was all the response she got. “Hey, what’s with the silent treatment?! Usually you have at least a smile on! Cafe! Snap some sense into her!”
“Don’t get me involved in whatever she has planned.” Cafe brushed the dark strands of hair out of her face, not sparing even a single moment to the nonsense happening beside her. “It can’t be good.” She closed her eyes, expecting some sort of snarky remark, insistent pestering or insane rambling. Any of those would have been normal for Tachyon. Instead, silence fell on her ears. It almost made Cafe want to smile. Almost.
“Well, it’s not gonna work anyway!” Pocket dropped down back into her spot, popping her jacket’s collar as she looked at the rest of her competition. “I’m gonna blitz past all of you losers and take the gold home, you hear me?! Especially you. ” Her fiery gaze towards her rival was not even met this time. Tachyon’s eyes were instead fixed in the horizon, unmoving. Unblinking. The race hadn’t even started, and her breathing already looked labored. Pocket felt a tinge of worry in the back of her mind, only for a moment. “Tachyon?”
Tachyon simply allowed her hair to fall over her eyes, looking down at the ground instead. Pocket tried to get her attention again, but she ignored it as best as she could. In the cacophony of emotions inside her heart, another one began worming its way in. Alongside the paralyzing fear and overwhelming anxiety was a blooming sense of shame. Guilt over a sin she had yet to commit, but already fated herself to. How could she even face Pocket?
She knew Pocket, in some sort of strange way, looked up to her. Perhaps up was not the right angle, and it was more akin to an obsessive gaze than a simple look of admiration, but the emotion was still there. She remembered receiving the brute’s honest and heartfelt declaration of war, just the day before. Barging into her “research room” and issuing Tachyon a challenge, vowing to become the strongest herself and to win the Satsuki Sho, to keep winning, onwards and onwards. Golden eyes filled with endless determination and resolve.
Tachyon couldn’t even look back at her. Instead, her eyes darted across the room, searching for anything that could get her mind off the person right in front of her. It didn’t take long before they landed on the faint glow of her laptop, displaying a simple radiography exam of her legs. Her heart sank, knowing very well what that simple x-ray picture meant. And still, Jungle Pocket smiled obliviously to her, unaware of what she was about to do. Her eyes rested on her legs then, just as they did now.
She could be overthinking this whole thing. Maybe once the first fracture reared its ugly head, Tachyon would slow down immediately, the pain being too much to bear. A loss through injury was nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe with the second fracture, the pain would force her to stop and drop on the ground instantly. They’d write a few articles about it, she’d recover, and life would move on. The third fracture would definitely make her stumble onto others, but that wasn’t intentional — Ah, who was she making excuses to? Who was she lying to?
She already knew that once logic was thrown out the window, emotion would guide her every step, and her emotions were as intense as they were ugly. Her fear of pain was far outmatched by her fear of failure — She could live with one, she’d die with the other. Winning first place would bring her a miniscule portion of the joy that breaking the limit would. And the burning shame that fully blossomed in her heart? That would numb her to all of the pain she’d endure over the next few minutes.
In her nightmare, she took too long to start giving it her all, too satisfied with solely reaching that limit. Today, as soon as the final turn was done, she’d start her countdown. The final moments of a Umamusume’s racing career. Like the rest of her kind, she was born to run and shine in the track, but not for long. She readied herself, waiting for the buzzer to ring.
This would be the last time Agnes Tachyon would ever shine, and she was about to blind the whole world.
With a loud ring, the gates in front of her slammed open, the rest of the girls taking the lead, while she herself simply followed the pace. She didn’t want to leave with any regrets, and although she knew that was impossible, she could still minimize those feelings by taking in everything from the track that she could never have again. She wanted to enjoy these last few moments, before complete madness overtook her.
First was the turf beneath her feet, of bright green grass and compact dirt. It felt soft to step on, but the force of each step left an imprint deeper than you’d expect. By the end of the race, it would be ruined, with hundreds of thousands of little marks all across it, and if everything went well, a big one at the end. Once it was ruined, the smell of fresh leaves would take over the field. She enjoyed that smell.
Dark clouds drifted gently high above her, and although they looked heavy with rain water, today was not going to be a rainy day. They made her mind drift to late nights of research, in which the sky would pour rain down relentlessly, and the intense smell of petrichor and sweet tea would relax her mind. What she wouldn’t give to have that composure right now.
The wind was slowly taking the clouds away, one by one, and soon the sun would shine down on the track. If her calculations were right, the sky would be entirely clear during the exact moment she’d cross the finish line. Maybe a little afterwards, if Plan C was a success. Heaven was opening itself to her, and somehow it felt like a mockery.
The crowd cheered all of them on, each violent step of the way causing the public to erupt with cheering and screaming in equal measures. Their encouragement, while initially something she shunned, slowly became a leading factor into her research. The emotional state of a runner, alongside the affection and support they received from the loving crowd, was a defining factor to deciding the victor and for reaching the limit.
Normally, a positive mood meant improved performance and results, such as a good night of sleep, a friendly rivalry or a newly discovered passion. Negative effects could be identified when the runner was slightly depressed, exceedingly angry or unfocused. She didn’t know what to classify her current state of focused madness as. Everything pointed to negative, and yet the results would be undeniably positive.
The final turn approached, and she slowly began picking up speed. Nothing out of the ordinary just yet, but it was still enough to pass right through most of the competition without breaking a sweat. This time, she passed past Cafe first. The coffee addict didn’t even notice it, her eyes focused on some mysterious point in the horizon. Her dear friend.
Tachyon wondered if she’d surpass that friend herself now, or if Cafe’s potential was so overwhelming that even the researcher’s wicked devotion wouldn’t be enough to catch up. Her guilt became even heavier once she wished for the former rather than the latter. She was going to be selfish. She was going to break that limit herself.
The final straight approached, with Pocket leading the pack. She always looked furious while racing, as if she was in an illegal ring match, fighting for her life, rather than a formal public sport. A leftover from her days running outside the tracks, probably. Tachyon ran past her, and once again that hateful stare was cast upon her back. But there was something wrong. There was another emotion, buried deep in that false hate she loved to throw around.
It didn’t matter. Tachyon was in first place, and a sinister smile crept its way to her lips. This was it. The execution block was clear, and the whole world was about to watch. This was her last chance to back out, and yet she couldn’t find herself able to. She was going to shine bright, burn to ashes and leave a mark behind that would never be forgotten.
Faster. Her legs started by moving faster, even more so than she had done before. Faster. The world became a blur. Faster. Sound became noise. Faster. Color drained from everything, and then darkness swallowed her. Faster. That glowing gold figure was inching closer and closer, to the point she could almost touch it. This was it. The moment she was waiting for. She gritted her teeth. Faster .
Her left foot touched the ground, and pain immediately shot up through her leg. If she was a statue of refined, fragile marble, that was the first crack. Her body screamed for her to slow down, but with a violent scream, unheard by anyone, she pressed onwards. Time to shatter herself whole. She pressed on, touching that figure of pure golden light, and the whole world suddenly turned white, her own body feeling lighter… Faster.
It took a few more seconds before the pain intensified, the previous injury worsening, while a new one formed just above it. She laughed to no one, and pressed onwards, her body feeling lighter and lighter with each step, losing its shape entirely as it broke down and turned into pure light. She was now running alongside the figure. The feeling was arduous, torturous and completely euphoric. Faster.
A third bolt of pure pain coursed through her, this time affecting her knee rather than her ankle. Her left leg was almost entirely burnt out — Almost. She could still squeeze something more out of it. Once her right ankle exploded, she didn’t have even a single second of reprieve from the pain, each and every step now forcing her to face the reality that it hurt so bad. Faster.
That figure was no longer there. No color but herself. No shape but her broken body. Beyond the limits of the Umamusume, only Tachyon remained. Her heart felt at ease, knowing that she had done it. She had broken the limits, not only of her body, but of her kind as a whole. Plan C was a complete and utter success. There was no way to move any faster.
Just before she crossed the finishing line, she felt two rings of pain bursting inside her right leg, from her knee and her thigh. Both of her legs were entirely used up. Once her left foot touched the ground, her legs couldn’t support her any longer, and the weight of her whole body was thrown forwards. She tumbled, trying to land properly, but her mind was entirely dulled out. Her body wasn’t the only thing spent.
She hit her shoulder first with a heavy thud, and then the back of her head. Her body kept moving, and her spine slammed against the ground, section by section. As if the pain wasn’t bad enough, her left leg slammed against the firm dirt, shattered as it was, and then the right one fell on top of it, the newly formed source of pain still coursing fresh through her limp legs.
She slid across the grass, and the whole world came to a crawl. Everything felt so slow now that she had experienced the limit. She stayed there, unmoving and barely conscious, as everything slowly faded into darkness. Through the overwhelming, unimaginable pain, she felt only one thing:
Euphoria.
Jungle Pocket was prideful. She knew that better than anyone else. She was a loud mouth, and a bit reckless at times, but she wasn’t stupid. — At least not as stupid as people took her for! She could stick to her training, only overdoing it sometimes, and could control her emotions, as long as they weren’t raging inside her. She knew those boundaries very well, and only crossed them sometimes. Which means she should have noticed all of the warnings Tachyon was giving her.
The look on Tachyon’s face. The way she tapped her heel on the grass. Her lack of response to Pocket’s taunting. All of it pointed to something more sinister, but all her mind could focus on right now was running and winning. Sure, anger bubbled inside her the moment Tachyon’s oversized coat came into view, ruining the perfectly clear horizon, but that would still be a normal thing.
Okay, perhaps not “normal”! Losing to Tachyon was never going to be accepted as normal, but it would still be… Correct. Safe. Healthy. Pocket’s heart wasn’t ready for the surge of emotions she was about to experience, as she slowly realized that whatever the researcher was doing was far from correct, safe or healthy. The first sign something was wrong was the sudden rush.
Tachyon was in the lead, sure, but they were still far away from the finish line. She could reserve her stamina for a burst at the end, but she kept picking up speed. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Pocket let out a malicious giggle to herself as she realized the chance to bypass Tachyon would come soon, except… It didn’t. Tachyon simply refused to tire, and even worse than that, she refused to slow down.
And the distance between them slowly grew. And grew more, and more, and the sudden smug expectation slowly turned into frustration and anger. What was Tachyon doing?! How was she still picking up speed?! Why was she still running faster and faster, even though she was in first place?! Wasn’t she supposed to be a smart researcher or whatever?!
And… Why couldn’t she keep up? What was she lacking that Tachyon had? She trained hard, she had the drive to win, hell, she even studied sometimes! But those negative feelings would take a twist, as the distance grew even larger. Complete and utter disbelief, as Tachyon led by 3 lengths. Then 5. 8. What kind of sick joke was that?!
10 lengths from Pocket, and Pocket herself wasn’t that close to the third place. It was as if the researcher was ready to shatter her own legs for the… Victory…
Jungle Pocket’s blood turned cold as she saw Tachyon’s foot twist unnaturally, and the girl in front of her simply kept running — No, picking up more speed. 12 lengths. Her knee bent the wrong way, even if only for a fraction of a moment. 15 lengths. Pocket couldn’t believe what she was watching, even from far away. She was horrified, but another emotion started to spill over her heart: Awe.
She couldn’t believe the display of sheer speed Tachyon was putting up. It was surreal. Unbelievable. Sickening , considering what she was going through to achieve that. Pocket felt disgusted that she was enjoying this. Agnes Tachyon was going to leave her mark in history, and Jungle Pocket was there to watch, right behind her. And then the reality of the situation truly sunk into her, as she watched her rival and friend cross the finishing line, crash into the grass and stop, entirely unmoving.
Pocket’s heart stopped, and she ran faster than she ever had before. Race be damned — Something much more important was happening. She didn’t even check her time as she crossed the line, instead sliding desperately to Tachyon’s side, the bright sun casting it’s rays down on the fallen girl.
“Tachyon?! You moron, are you—” Pocket’s loud voice, filled with worry, was cut by the quiet, whispering madness of the researcher. Despite the crowd, the competitors and the staff blaring all around them, only that tiny whisper made its way to her ears.
“I reached it.” Tachyon whispered to her, still unable to do anything but breathe gently. “I broke it.”
“What do you mean—” Pocket saw Tachyon’s twisted smile and almost immediately understood the message. “No. You wouldn’t—” The medical team grabbed her shoulder and pushed her away from the injured girl before she could get an answer, but deep down she knew it.
Agnes Tachyon shattered herself on purpose. In burning herself, she became the brightest Umamusume that ever lived.
And she was fully aware she was never going to shine again.
Pocket’s foot tapped against the polished marble floor of the hospital. It was pristine enough she could catch a glimpse of her own reflection on it if she paid attention, but only in spots where the light didn't shine particularly brightly. Considering the sun was setting, she didn't have much trouble looking at herself.
She was covered in dirt and grass from the waist down. Her knees were scrapped, and bandaids were put on them to keep the cuts from bleeding. Sliding across the grass to reach Tachyon faster had her pay a small price after all, but in the end it mattered little to Pocket. She had bigger worries.
Her face was stuck in an annoyed scowl. At least she thought that was her expression, but when others passed by her they looked almost sad, pitying her for simply being there. She wanted to bark right back at them, get up in their face and ask what's the problem, but she just remained seated. She didn't want anyone kicking her out.
She tapped her finger against her arm, counting the minutes. She glared at the clock, as if her anger would make it move faster, but its arms kept moving at the same speed they always did, indifferent to her. But that was okay, because Pocket was a stubborn girl. She could wait.
Sometimes a nurse or a doctor would pass by, and she'd ask them about Tachyon, only to get the same response: She's still in the operating room. Minutes turned into hours, and she was still getting surgery. The sun finally set, and the hospital's bright white lights turned on, erasing her reflection. And Tachyon was still not here.
Pocket hunched over, burying her face in her palms. Moron. Idiot. Dumbass. Tachyon, yes, but also herself. How did she not notice? Why didn't she do anything about it? Hell, maybe even a slight shove on the shoulder and some words of friendly competition would have made Tachyon reconsider, but Pocket didn't do anything.
She just wanted to win. Like always. She even challenged that idiot before the race, and poured her heart out saying she wasn't gonna lose, and now their next race would be postponed for who knows how long! It was infuriating. Next time it wouldn't even be fair with how much of a headstart Pocket was getting. Winning like that would leave a sour taste on her mouth.
Even now all she could think of was beating Tachyon. Winning against her. Why was this damn surgery taking so long—
“Here.” Manhattan Cafe's cold voice took her right out of her own thoughts. She shook something and gave Pocket an annoyed stare, before once again speaking up. “Take it.”
“What…” Pocket took a moment to come back to her senses, finally noticing the paper bag in Cafe's left hand, and the small white plastic bag on her right. She also took notice Cafe wasn't wearing her racing outfit anymore. “What's this?”
“Food.” Cafe once again shook the items, before Pocket finally took them, putting the white bag to her side, and opening up the paper one. Only when the smell of a fresh hamburger filled her lungs she realized she was starving . “You didn't eat after the race, did you?”
“N-No! I was here the whole time! Thanks, Cafe! I owe you one!” Pocket didn't wait a single extra second before sloppily digging into her burger. Food never tasted so delicious before.
“Don't thank me. Your friends bought you the burger, and Dantsu prepared you the lunch box once she realized you'll stay here through the whole night.” Cafe turned to the reception desk, not far from where Pocket was, and grabbed a small plastic cup, filling it up with the free coffee offered by the staff. It was awful, but it would do for now.
“What do you mean all night? I'm only staying here until I can talk to Tachyon!” Pocket didn't wait chewing before cracking a soda can open and chugging down some cold cola.
“I hoped to do so too, since I had something to tell her.” Cafe turned around with her fresh instant coffee, only to cringe at the slob in front of her. “But it appears that won't be happening tonight.”
Jungle Pocket raised an eyebrow as Cafe looked away from her, covering her nose. “What's with that face?”
“Change clothes. You stink.” Cafe pointed to the white bag before casually walking away, leaving Pocket to smell herself, almost coughing back her food in the process. She smelled like she had rolled in the mud for fun, and that wasn't too far off from what actually happened.
Inside the white bag she found some fresh clothes, and while they wouldn't magically make her smell any better, they would make her stop from smelling worse. Under the clothes was a small decorated box, filled with handmade sushi. Even if she didn't care for herself, at least her friends were there for her.
So why wasn't she there for Tachyon? Pocket took in a deep, long breath. This was going to be a long, arduous night. But she was the strongest. Time to prove herself.
Her mood switched around constantly with every hour. Frustration, anger, sadness, relief, joy and a deep, constant anxiety, only worsened by the quiet ticking of the clock right in front of her. She was almost dozing off when a nurse approached her, shaking her shoulder gently.
“You're here for Ms. Tachyon, are you not? Her surgery has already ended and she's in her room for recovery.” The nurse looked at her with the same look as everyone else. The pity made her stomach growl. Or maybe it was the hunger. “We told her you have been waiting, and she was okay with seeing you.”
“Finally, that took long enough! She better be okay with it, I've been waiting forever!” Pocket grumbled as she got up, before remembering to have some manners. “O-Oh, and thank you! Which room is she in again?”
Once the nurse led her to the door, they left her alone, simply instructing her to not make much noise or disturb the patient too much. Pocket wasn't particularly good at being subtle, nor was she sure of what emotions were about to be brought forwards, but she was going to try her best.
Then the memory of Tachyon’s twisted smile as she laid on the ground came to her mind. Anger was the first emotion to surge into her, while angst immediately followed.
Jungle Pocket stepped through the door.
Tachyon sat up, simply staring out the open window. The white curtains moved gently with the breeze that came in, bringing the chill night air to her, while the late night was dotted with artificial lights, turning the sky a deep dark shade of blue. The moon was full and bright, with no clouds covering it.
The door opened, but she didn't bother turning to see who it was. She already knew only one person was stubborn enough to come visit her at 3:30 AM. “If it isn't Jungle Bucket! Took you this long to catch up with me—”
“Shut up.” Venom dripped from the blonde's mouth. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She marched towards the bedridden girl, suddenly grabbing her by the shoulder, not caring if Tachyon was in pain or not. Right now, she wanted it to hurt.
“I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Pocket—” She winced, the sudden violent shaking making her legs burn, her freshly stitched cuts aching. Good. She deserved more of that, so she taunted Pocket further. “Perhaps staying up late like this is not something you're used to?”
“Stop.” Pocket’s golden eyes looked down at Tachyon's legs, covered by the bedsheets. “Just… Stop.”
“Did you come for advice perhaps? Or were you genuinely worried for—”
“I told you to shut up. ” Pocket dragged Tachyon's gown, lifting the girl closer to her face. No reaction, no snarky remarks. Only silence this time around. “You… You busted your legs up on purpose, didn't you? Bad enough you'll stay out of the game for a while, right?!”
Pocket found the courage to glare at Tachyon, only to realize she wasn't looking at her. She hadn't done so in days. Instead, her tired eyes drifted from the bedsheets to the window. Avoiding Pocket's gaze. Avoiding her question.
“Even I could see it was pretty damn bad! Why’s that, you idiot?! You want to stay recovering for a whole semester and give me a headstart on beating your sorry ass?” She grabbed Tachyon's face, with the girl still refusing to move an inch, and forced her to stare at Pocket. Their eyes, however, still didn't meet. “Weren't we gonna find out who's faster? Who's the stronger Umamusume?!”
Agnes Tachyon's eyes quickly moved to meet hers with uncanny precision. Jungle Pocket felt a shiver down her spine. Tachyon's voice came out cold and dry. “I am sure we have already settled that.”
Pocket's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but only a sickening gag came out, the words failing her entirely. Tachyon wasn't smiling either, nor had a mischievous look to her, or any malice. Only the cold, uncaring indifference of reality.
“Y-You only say that because you…” Pocket couldn't even finish her retort. Tachyon didn't win today. She crushed everyone . Even Pocket was in awe at what the researcher in front of her achieved. A victory by over 15 lengths was not normal, much less in a prestigious G1 race like this one. And then, there was something Pocket had yet to confirm, but already heard whispers of even in the hospital.
Tachyon had broken the previous record for fastest Umamusume to ever live, achieving an impressive 74km/h, compared to the previous 70. A record that stood unbroken for decades, was now shattered by the girl she was clutching onto, her hands gripping harder against delicate skin.
She could see the skin losing color where she was pressing, and the red marks around it, but Tachyon didn't let out a single whisper. She simply stayed quiet, watching Pocket like a confused animal that was unsure of what to do.
“We… We are going to race against each other again, aren't we?” Pocket had to look away this time, letting go of Tachyon’s face, hands resting on her shoulders. She couldn't entertain her anger anymore, instead choosing to let a faint hope inside her speak up, paired with an uncomfortable anxiety rising from her stomach.
Tachyon's lips slowly moved. “Why would I?”
Pocket felt her heart sink, all hope being crushed as a looming sense of misery fell upon her, like the sharp blade of a guillotine slashing right through her neck.
“I already achieved my dreams, Pocket. I discovered what lies beyond the limits of our bodies, as Umamusume.”
“Quit playing… Quit joking around!” Her nails dug against Tachyon's shoulder. “What about winning?! What about the races, what about proving to the world you're a champion?!”
“There is no more reason to keep partaking in meaningless activities. I'd rather focus my efforts on something more productive now.”
“You… You're serious, aren't you?” Pocket felt the despair that took over her voice start taking over her entire body, her breathing becoming shallow and her vision blurry. Only Tachyon remained perfectly clear for her. Only her voice reached her ears.
“Besides, even if I wanted to run, I can’t.”
“...Huh?”
“I can’t walk anymore, Pocket.”
Pocket blinked. She let go of Tachyon and took a few steps back, before the bedridden girl slowly lifted the blankets that covered her lower body, exposing her slender legs to her rival and friend. Pocket's eyes followed, her mind unable to say anything as she watched in horror.
Both of her legs had a pair of metal rods firmly bolted into them, connected to her ankle and up to her knees. It looked sturdy, heavy and unnatural. Her whole left leg was bandaged, and her right one had bandages up to her knees. A variety of red spots, some deeper than others, dotted the bandages.
“Fractured ankles, displaced tibia, broken and disjointed knees, cracked femur and multiple severe muscular lacerations.” Tachyon poked the metallic rods. “The nurse said that an Umamusume’s strength is wonderful, but when turned self destructive it's terrifying.”
“H-Hey, this is… This is some stupid prank, right Tachyon?” Pocket felt her eyes swell with tears.
“Oh, my lower spine was also damaged from the sheer speed of the impact on my sudden stop, and I dislocated my left shoulder.”
Pocket's blurry vision spotted the red marks she left on Tachyon's shoulder just moments ago. And the girl didn't even flinch, despite feeling unimaginable pain.
“The nurses will keep me pumped with various wonderful chemicals to numb the pain, but the next following weeks should still be quite excruciating. Can you believe how much research I'm going to lose—” Tachyon watched Pocket take a few steps back, leave the room with its door wide open and run.
Tachyon stayed in silence as she heard the brute run through the corridors of the hospital. Once it was quiet again, she covered herself with the blankets, and returned to watching the window quietly. She fidgeted with her fingers and smiled. She did it. She truly had done it.
She couldn't be happier.
Pocket ran away as fast as she could, hoping that the exhaustion or pain would eventually wake her up from this horrible nightmare. And yet, the night crawled onwards, uncaring about her despair. Once she stopped by the river bank, she fell to her knees and screamed.
She wished this nightmare would end already.