Chapter Text
When I applied to be a trainer at Tracen Academy, I knew that things were going to be rough at the start. On top of having a worse eye for potential trainees, it’s not uncommon for new trainers to get the last pick of the lot - so when I found myself working with Agnes Tachyon as my first, I didn’t know whether to be elated or deeply afraid.
Her numbers didn’t lie. But she stuck out like a sore thumb during tryouts. In her medium-length heats, she was defeating her fellow racers by two, four, eight lengths. Yet despite that, her unkept brown hair, piercing red gaze, and general sense of dismissal toward the people around her immediately drove away my fellow trainers’ interest. The entire time, she failed to acknowledge any of the other racers’ congratulations, jeers, or stares as she immediately wandered off the field – clearly lost in thought about something else.
Her numbers didn’t lie. But it was clear to all of the other trainers scouting Tracen Academy’s next generation of racers - Agnes Tachyon was trouble. Her reactions to each race showed a lack of interest. She was already marking herself as a pariah among her classmates. Every now and then, she would cast a dismissive glance toward the trainer section in the stands, and the shoulders around me would all tense. Agnes Tachyon was a beast – a force of nature that had to be tamed before it could be trained. But that strength was tempting. My goal, first and foremost, was to raise a trainee that could reach the absolute zenith of Umamusume racing. Agnes Tachyon had the strength to do it.
Her numbers didn’t lie. But I was the only one brave enough to approach her. She didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, she seemed quite tickled by me walking up to her. I offered to be her trainer. She laughed. She told me she was a scientist before she was a racer - whatever that meant. She asked me if I was willing to help her reach her goal to break the absolute limit of Umamusume speed – by any means necessary. I told her that I would do anything if she was willing to help me reach the top as a trainer. We agreed on it. Neither of us understood what it truly meant at the time.
Her numbers didn’t lie. By all means, I was lucky to get to work with an Umamusume like her. She’s an extremely strong runner. A generational talent, yet to be proven.
Now if only she wasn’t such a pain in the ass.
...
“...hey, guinea pig. Can you hear me?”
My vision slowly focuses, and I find myself facing a pair of sharp, red eyes. A penlight clicks on just outside of my peripheral vision, and light fills my left eye. As for the person holding that left eye open…
“Oh, good, you’re awake. So, the good news is that this formula definitely works. For the five minutes that you were conscious, your reaction speed and perception were nearly flawless.”
My trainee shifts to the right, her messy brown hair obscuring most of her face. With a curt nod, she clicks off the penlight and sighs. This is a regular occurrence for us now; one of Tachyon’s conditions to be my trainee included being the first – if not only – test group for any of her experiments.
“Unfortunately, you also experienced violent vomiting and then immediately passed out,” she mutters under her breath. “Remind me to have a bucket ready next time. This serum is probably safe enough to use on an Umamusume with a strong enough constitution, but for my next race… hey. Blink twice.”
I do as she says, and Tachyon wiggles the light around in my right eye for a bit before clicking off the penlight. Once the spots disappear from my vision, I can feel a steady throbbing in the back of my head. A moment later, I finally muster the energy to speak.
“... my head.”
The penlight clicks off, and the Uma in front of me turns to grab a glass off a nearby surface. We’re in a classroom, turned into an improvised examination room. I’m lying on a group of desks pushed together, surrounded by various instruments and objects. It’s dark - all the windows are covered, and a pair of tea candles are the only thing illuminating the corner we’re in.
“I know,” Tachyon says in a way that’s just a little too matter-of-fact. “Drink this.”
Without much conscious thought, my hand shakily reaches out to grasp the cup. “This is just water, right? Not another one of your concoctions?”
Tachyon turns back around to face me, and I see a smile betray her normally stalwart countenance. “I don’t see where you have a choice in the matter, my little guinea pig,” she says with an uncomfortably growing grin. “But yes. It’s just bottled water.”
The throbbing in the back of my head grows stronger with every sip, and I’m not sure if it has to do with the liquid Tachyon handed me or the uncomfortably intense way she’s observing my every move. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look again. I’m not a sadist.”
Debatable.
Once my cup is drained, she takes it from me and sets it back down. “As your trainee, I have a very vested interest in making sure you’re in working condition, and that includes ensuring that you are invested enough in me to remain my trainer.”
I muster the energy to lean up, using my elbow as leverage. “You're really not doing a great job of that. I’m going to make your life a living hell during training later today. Just thought you should know that.”
She laughs. “I know. I wouldn’t be fulfilling my end of the deal otherwise. But for now? You’re the guinea pig.”
It wasn’t easy getting her to truly commit to a proper training regime. Tachyon and I both know she has the passion for racing, but she seems to put a lot more of that passion into flasks and vials instead of actively improving her own physical capabilities. It took a long series of missed calls, threats to quit on her, and eventually, a promise to be a test subject for whatever she happened to be cooking up - no questions asked. But in exchange, she swore to regularly attend our training sessions.
Yet, somehow, we both get a ton out of it. When she’s not talking to me about running, she’s talking about her latest new salve or serum that supposedly lets you sharpen your focus or promote nutrient intake in certain areas, or boost your metabolism. Most of it is far beyond me, but what I do know is that her times have been steadily dropping ever since she let me put her on an accelerated training regime.
“Did you want to know how I’m feeling now that it’s worn off?”
Tachyon pulls her phone out of her pocket and types something in.
“Nope. I think I have everything I need from this trial. I’ll let you know the next time I need you. You can go.”
As I attempt to pry myself off of the desks, my legs completely crumple under my weight, and I tumble to the ground in the most unceremonious way possible.
“Do you have an explanation for that?” I groan.
“Not yet. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, though. I imagine it should wear off in a moment.”
“You’re the worst.”
“I know. See you during training today.”
I don’t bother trying to get the last word in. Prying myself off the ground, I stumble out the door once the coast is clear outside.