The next morning, Tanoue opened his eyes. Aside from a brief moment during the night when the infirmary lights were being dimmed and he had woken to ask for water, he had slept straight through until dawn. Though he felt the lingering malaise that follows a fever, his appetite had returned with a vengeance, his stomach growling insistently. The cold was gone. Still in his clothes from the day before and feeling a bit grimy with sweat, he headed toward the cafeteria at a light jog.
He ran into Tachyon on the way. When he told her he wouldn't be able to make lunch today, she looked disappointed, though she sighed and muttered, "Well, it can't be helped."
Tanoue acted so completely normal that the events of the previous day felt like a hallucination. There wasn't a trace of the man who had wept for his mother. Tachyon was tempted to ask, "Don't you remember yesterday?" but she checked herself; if he did remember, it would only make things awkward. Instead, she studied him with a curious gaze.
"So, the cold is entirely cured?"
"Yeah," Tanoue replied, sounding even more energetic than before he'd fallen ill. Then, his expression clouded slightly. "Tachyon… I did some… well, pretty awful things to you yesterday, didn't I?"
"Awful things? Oh, I haven't given it a second thought. You merely shook your head at me. Anyone is prone to such things when they're ill."
It was a lie intended to comfort him. Tachyon hadn't forgotten; the look of pure loathing he had directed at her—even if it wasn't meant for her—had stung. Is there still something swirling deep inside him? she wondered.
They walked to the cafeteria, engaging in their usual idle chatter about research and books. Tachyon did most of the talking, and Tanoue listened with a look of genuine contentment. It really was as if nothing had happened.
They sat and ate like any other day. At one point, Tanoue dropped his spoon. He picked it up, blew on it, and gave her a provocative look. "Three-second rule," he said, raising an eyebrow as if challenging her to comment. Tachyon couldn't help but chuckle.
Can happiness like this last? Or is it merely a momentary respite? Perhaps it depends on one's own spirit. "Happiness" is a subjective thing. Some find it in protecting their family despite overwhelming hardship; others are crushed by those same hardships and fall into despair. If happiness is a matter of will, Tanoue surely wanted to be happy. But he didn't know how.
He believed this simple happiness—talking with Tachyon—was the only real thing. Everything else—love, food, work, even life itself—felt hollow if he wasn't talking to her. Feeling her near, facing her directly: that was his truth. When he couldn't feel that connection, he felt shackled by invisible things, unable to let go, unable to move.
Tanoue's happiness never lasted long. It was always interrupted. On the surface, it always seemed to be the fault of circumstances, but in truth, it was his own uncontrollable emotions that severed the thread. What should we call such a thing? We will find the answer at the end of this story.
After breakfast, the two headed naturally toward the Trainer's room. Tanoue didn't even bother asking Tachyon if she planned to attend her morning classes. They walked and talked as they always did. But then, a thought struck him.
"Tachyon, are you going home for the New Year?"
Tachyon put a hand to her chin, humming thoughtfully. "What about you, Trainer?"
"I think I'll head back. Today is the 27th, right? I'll probably leave the day after tomorrow and come back around noon on January 5th. What about you?"
"I..." Tachyon hesitated.
Part of her wanted to see his home out of pure scientific curiosity; the other part wanted to gather "data" on why he had broken down in the infirmary. She hadn't expected the opportunity to arise so soon. She wondered if he would even let her come if she asked.
"If I said I wanted to visit your home, what would you do?"
"Huh? My place? …No way. Taking you there would be… well, you know. My dad would hate it, and there's nowhere for you to sleep anyway."
"What kind of place do you live in?"
"A rural apartment. Only two rooms."
"And your father lives there?"
Tanoue nodded. He looked at her suspiciously. "Wait… do you actually want to come?"
"To be honest, I'm conflicted myself. My parents wouldn't complain if I didn't return home, but I haven't quite decided on my trajectory yet..."
Tachyon looked troubled. Tanoue watched her, but remained firm. "I really'd rather you didn't."
Tachyon blinked, then burst into laughter. "Oh? Well, if I decide I want to go, I'll follow you whether you like it or not. At worst, I'll just camp out in your dorm room until you give in."
"Please, anything but that," Tanoue groaned.
They reached the Trainer's room. Tachyon began preparing tea while Tanoue sat at his computer.
"…So, when do I need to decide by? Is tomorrow alright?" Tachyon asked.
Tanoue made a face. "I'm telling you, I really don't want you there. Besides, think of your reputation. A 'Double-Crown' Uma Musume staying at a man's house? It's not a good look."
"Is that your best excuse? Don't worry, I care nothing for 'reputation.' …And since I truly haven't decided yet, don't be so cold."
Tanoue looked unconvinced, but he turned back to his screen and began working with intense focus. Tachyon watched him for a moment, then smiled and let her thoughts wander to her New Year's plans.
She wasn't sure if her interest in his "secret" was worth disrupting her schedule for. She had no new ideas for drugs or research at the moment, so she was technically free, but she could just as easily spend a quiet holiday at the academy.
She boiled water, steeped the tea, and soon the room was filled with a potent aroma. Tanoue wrinkled his nose at the strength of the scent but said nothing, though he began tapping his keys with a bit more force than usual. Tachyon noticed. He always did that when she brewed this specific blend; it was his silent way of protesting a flavor he didn't like. She sipped her tea, unbothered.
She tried to organize her thoughts, but a nagging sense of the unknown kept her unsettled. She finished one cup, then another. The mystery of Tanoue remained. Finally, she gave up on thinking, pulled a random book from the shelf, and settled onto the sofa to read.