Chapter Text
Red meets Yellow. Yellow meets Red.
Lines meet Shine. Shine meets Lines.
Agnes Tachyon meets Confused, Creeped Out, and Not-Sure-What-To-Do. Jungle Pocket can’t tell if Agnes Tachyon is even meeting her halfway.
Well, perhaps “meet” wouldn’t be the correct word for this phenomenon.
If you asked Jungle Pocket, all she could tell you was that this has been going on for maybe a month and a half, granted that her internal train of thought was always more along the lines of ‘What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?’ rather than counting each separate time this happened; though she could guess that it probably exceeded how many fingers she has.
But if you ask Tachyon — word of advice though, just don’t before you even do it — they probably have a mental list of each location, specific date, and time of day that this occurred along with a timer for how long it took down to the very millisecond.
(The more Pokke thinks about it, that actually sounds kind of hot for some reason… but it’s Tachyon, so it can’t be. She’d rather let Urara beat her in a race than admit that just maybe info-dumping nerds might be her type.
…Wait no, just thinking about that feels like a massive blow to her pride. She’ll probably think of a better analogy soon. Those are called analogies, right? Pokke had a tendency to daydream during Language class — usually about Tachyon, racing, racing against Tachyon, sometimes racing with Fuji Kiseki, Tachyon watching while she raced Fuji-san… — so she’d have no idea. She can probably just Google that later and use it in a random conversation to sound smarter someday.)
Anyhow, eye contact wasn’t something that Pokke would shy away from as compared to most people. In fact, she preferred staring at her opponents in the eyes to prove that she wasn’t one to be underestimated. Eyes were called the windows to the soul, and if that was the best way to show hers when she wasn’t proving herself on the track, then she’ll show her damn soul and more.
But with that same philosophy, one might just claim that Tachyon didn’t have a soul to look into at all. It wouldn’t be odd to say that those red eyes would probably look no different than if they were dead. Even in their bouts of passion for research, their eyes remained condescending — prideful at the very best — but lifeless all the same. No boisterous behavior of theirs could mask those hollow eyes.
And Pokke should be the one most deserving to agree with that belief; flashes of red and an ultimatum that she would never surpass Tachyon often burn into her mind despite the victories that followed that encounter. She had clutched and wagged her rival with no relent, yet the goddesses know that it was that smug look on Tachyon’s face that had dealt damage that ruined even the highest of highs. The shine from the trophy should have sufficed for her pride, but it was worth absolutely nothing without the dull shadow running alongside her.
Despite what Pokke should believe though, she doesn’t. She has no idea how to prove it — it would be out of character for Tachyon to give her any proof for her to — but she just knows that there’s life and drive behind that skill that the public solely admires. Jungle Pocket accepted that she’d never understand how their mind worked, but she knew that she can still somehow feel Agnes Tachyon’s soul, like how Agnes Tachyon can effortlessly read hers like it was data to be used and analyzed (and no, that’s not “really romantic” like what Dantsu said the last time she said that outloud… Pokke was pretty sure that she was drunk that time, okay? Shut up.)
But regardless of everything just mentioned, Pokke can also absolutely feel how weird it is that they’ve just been staring at each other without a word for what’s felt like a straight minute or three already.
As mentioned previously, this was far from the first time that this ever happened. It’s become a bit of a habit that Pokke would catch Tachyon staring at her for reasons unknown until this day, and just wait it out until one of them would pretend like nothing happened and resume whatever they were doing. That amount of nonchalance and patience weren’t really traits associated with the brute, and that statement’s completely correct; just because she got used to it doesn’t mean that the first times were as quiet as this:
The first time…
(“...What’cha lookin’ at me for?”
“Simply for research purposes, my dear Pokke-kun.”
“What the hell kind of research is that?!”
“Confidentiality is a must, but I assure you that you’ll see very soon!”
“You really can’t stop being a vague weirdo, can you?”)
The second time…
(“Do I have something on my face?”
“No, no… I just simply need observational data for my research once again.”
“I thought you already ‘collected’ what you needed the other day?”
“You ought to know that the data collection process often takes days upon months for a researcher, Jungle Bucket. For an experimentalist such as myself, repetition is often required as well!”
“How many times do I gotta tell you? That’s still not my fucking nam-!”)
Probably after the fifth time…
(“You still not done with your data shit?”
“One can never have enough of dedicating their days to collecting valuable data!”
“Okay, yeah, but like, what’s so valuable about my face that you need to look so much? Wait– did you slip something into my food again?! Tachyon, I swear if I’m supposed to be glowing green or something!”
“Not this time, no. You know that I reserve concoctions with only presumed beneficial effects for my favorite little guinea pig.”
“Yeah, and everyone knows that that’s why Daiwa Scarlet treats you like you’re the Messiah.”
“Hm, I do hold a certain fondness for her, but it seems that my favoritism between subjects has apparently been lost in translation.”
“Don’t really know if I’m honored or cursed, but thanks? I guess you’re my favorite psycho too.”
“Favorite and only psychopath that you know, I presume?”
“...Yeah, favorite and only one that I’ll ever need to know for the rest of my life.”)
Eighteenth time? Twenty-fourth time? Who knows anymore?
(“...Hi, Tachyon.”
“Hello, Pokke-kun.”
“This still the research thing?”
“When has it been anything other than?”
“Eh, fair enough. Just make sure you’re taking note of my good side, okay?!”
“From my observations, I don’t believe that you possess a ‘bad side’ at all, regardless of whatever angle you are gazed upon from.”
“...D-Don’t start being a flatterer now, Tachy.”)
The more Pokke reminisces on the more memorable instances, she realizes now why Dantsu has a tendency to fondly sigh every time she suggests visiting the scientist’s lab — visits that just so happened to become daily routine once she realized that she always somehow felt the most comfortable just doing nothing around Tachyon; at least, in the moments when the mad scientist wasn’t intentionally disrupting that same peace with research-related requests.
But even after what was four flashbacks, Pokke found herself still staring back at Tachyon’s unblinking gaze. Personally, she was never bothered about how their eyes just never seemed to shine, but the creepy part came in once she noticed that they never had to blink unless they purposefully wanted to. Just glancing at them feels like they’re in a… Wait…
“Were these just staring contests this whole time?!”
And thus, their usual routine had ceased for the day. The disappointed sigh from Pokke’s opponent had carried its usual exaggerated motions and noticeable volume, “And here I thought I was finally about to break my record…” The researcher grabbed their log notebook and proceeded with their usual data recording.
Pokke subtly scooted closer to get even a glimpse of their writing, “That wasn’t the longest we’ve done? It sure felt like it.” Tachyon repositioned the notebook away from Pokke’s line of sight — something that they seemed to do more and more often nowadays, “For us, yes… That’s the longest that we had mutually stared at each other. For me though, my record had been nearly ten minutes!”
The lighter-haired girl’s mouth had already been agape, preparing its question, but Tachyon had beat her to it: “Five days ago when I had intentionally set up a compilation of all of Fuji Kiseki’s races and you had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. You never once lost your focus from start to finish, allowing me to proceed with my observations uninterrupted and unbeknownst to you!”
A small “Eh?” was the only response that Pokke could formulate. Nevertheless, Tachyon continued speaking, “And to answer your even earlier question, having staring contests with you was not the intention of my data collection. If it were, then you would have already lost after four seconds.” A grin slowly formed on their face as an idea struck, “But with your affinity for competition and desire to prove yourself better than me, perhaps I should perform separate experiments of that nature, if only to see the difference between the outco–” A finger had abruptly found its way onto Tachyon’s lips.
“Okay, okay! You don’t need to perform more experiments on me. Just you casually staring at me freaks me out enough.” Pokke was about to pull back her finger, but she glanced towards the notebook in the other’s hands and settled on a different plan.
Her hand quickly lunged towards the piece of stationery, but as the media and race commentators would put it: Jungle Pocket was as fast as lightning, but a tachyon particle would always be faster than light. The brunette had raised it before Pokke could even touch it, hence shoving her entire weight downwards instead. Pain found its way onto her abdomen as it landed on Tachyon’s knees.
“Come on! If you’re ‘observing’ me or whatever, then I should know what it’s about, right?! How should I know if you’re actually recording how ugly I can get everyday?!”
Pokke pushed herself back up onto seating position, and all Tachyon could do was hide the notebook within a pocket in their labcoat. “I assure you that I’m running no research of that sort, partially because if I were to provide data proving such a hypothesis, then all would be fabricated.”
A raised eyebrow was the only response, “I mean to say that no, you can never be ugly, Pokke-kun.” A nod of relief, approval, and a subtle blush had been the next response to that before Tachyon went on, “As I said previously, you will see my research upon its completion soon. You had never been this interested in any of my previous experimentation anyway.”
“Hey! I like listening to you go on about your research, I just never really want to understand anything unless it’s gonna make me the strongest uma or if it’s about parfaits!” Pokke chose not to think about how offensive that could’ve sounded to anyone else that wasn’t Tachyon, “And if your research is about me, then I’m pretty sure I should see it even before it’s finished, you know? Something something about respondent consent?”
“Well, you know that my methods are far from the considerations of typical ethical research.” And with that, Tachyon stood up and did the bare minimum to adjust their lab coat.
Pokke’s head perked up, “No no no! You’re not gonna get out of this that easily!”
Tachyon had already started maneuvering around the debris scattered around the lab, “But I already am!”
Her visits to the lab had been more than frequent, but Pokke still wasn’t as used to the layout as Tachyon was, especially considering that every time she came, there seemed to be new equipment just loitering around on even more useless boxes that she had to dodge to move around. She didn’t have the liberty of just lunging at the brunette and restraining them to continue the argument, so she settled for glaring at them as she slowly stood up to try to avoid the fragile box right next to her.
“Mark my words, Agnes Tachyon, I’ll see what’s in that notebook before the end of the week!”
The aforementioned’s hand had already been on the door handle by the time Pokke shouted from across the room. They only chuckled as they opened the door, “It’s already Thursday, but we’ll see about that, Pokke-kun~.”
Tachyon left the room with a loud bang on the door, leaving Pokke to think about her ultimatum. She smirked just thinking about Tachyon’s face when she finally gets her hands on it — oh, she can already feel that sweet sweet feeling of victory against them for the first time.
First things first though… How the fuck did they leave the room that quickly when it was barricaded with boxes?