"—with a three to one ratio of protein to phospholipids." Ymir stood tall on the podium, smiling and excited to reveal more and more of her research to the faculty, but they only stared, tired.
"Thank you, Miss Langnar." The lead scientist yawned, glancing at his colleagues with a roll of his eyes.
"Excuse me?" Ymir frowned, licking her lips.
"This is but the beginning of my research. We haven't even covered—"
"That's enough…we've heard this speech and about your research an infinite amount of times…and it's becoming…redundant."
Now Ymir glared at the man.
"Excuses me, sir, but this is vital research that requires excruciating detail that I labor over for hours on end and—"
"Langnar," the lead scientist held the bridge of his nose, "I cannot stress how much I care about thoroughness but this isn't a research center…this is a pharmaceutical laboratory… and we're here to give results of recent drug testing of upcoming medication…"
Ymir stood there, glaring at the tired, old men who didn't seem to care for the pursuit of knowledge or the idea that being a scientist or doctor of any sort was more than doing bare minimum—it was going beyond and exploring branches of biology that were unprecedented!
"Yes, but you are educated men! Surely you will understand the importance of constant research rather than doing a simple jo—"
"Langnar…we've had enough. Let Mr. Korvich finish his analysis report of drug number fourteen-three alpha."
A few of the men snorted, chuckling and shaking their heads.
"N—No! This is important! What if we become the focal point of in-depth research of cell activity? Drug testing is a good basis in making a foundation for—"
"Langnar, stand down!" The lead shouted, tired, slamming his newspaper down.
"We are done! We are a drug testing facility! And nothing more! Do your job or else!"
Ymir never felt more disgusted with the pot-bellied men.
"I quit!" Years of working and breaking her back here in the facility had borne no fruit of respect. Not even a colleague was willing to replicate her experiments and observations to further her personal studies.
"Hoh?"
"What—Langnar, don't be so rash!"
"You must give a two-week notice, you child! Damn woman!"
Ymir stood tall, delicately grabbing her life's research into a neat pile and picking it up.
"Fuck you all! You aren't real scientists," she spat, leaving the small stage in front of the dawdling group of men.
She didn't even bother to go to her workstation which was devoid of personal attachments. She never had time for such bumbling casualties.
She was marching out the front door as the receptionist watched, bewildered.
"Miss Langnar?"
"Goodbye!"
And Ymir left with a burning hatred for passiveness and will to only do bare minimum.
She craved the need to do great things—to show the world her research.
She swore she'd do it.
One way or another.
.
.
.
Ymir stood before the convention center, staring with wide eyes, excitement boiling in her stomach and heart as she clutched her briefcase.
She opened it for the umpteenth time to ensure she had her research there, excited to pull it out and share with the greatest scientific masterminds out there—
"Ah!"
She went flying to the ground, gaping and then shooting a dirty look to—
Oh.
"I'm so sorry," a beautiful blonde was on the ground, wincing, holding her elbow.
Papers flew and floated and danced all around them as the woman recovered then gasped.
"Oh no! My thesis!" She cried out, dismayed and went to crawling about, picking up her papers, running a worried hand through her hair.
"I—shoot, my glasses…"
Oh.
Ymir saw the glasses by her and picked them up.
"Um, here," she handed them over and the woman blindly grabbed then, sliding them back on and stopping, holding her hands to her chest.
"One, two, three…" Ymir listened to her repeat those letters, regulating her breath and the stressful situation.
"I'm sorry," Ymir cleared her throat, breaking her trance from the woman and getting up to crouch, grabbing papers, skimming the papers because their research had gotten mixed up.
Ymir noticed all these papers were her own as she collected them.
"I…wait," the woman stopped, gawking.
"I…do you research…?"
And then Ymir peered closer and realized this wasn't a part of her paper at all!
It was the other woman's!
In fact, not only was it hers but it was on the very same in-depth explanation of—
"My name is Historia Reiss," she had red cheeks as she peered beyond her glasses.
"Y-Ymir Langnar." Ymir gaped as she felt…warmth.
Never had she met someone who shared the same love of research and cell observance.
"I—"
"You—"
They both stopped, waiting for the other to speak but then laughed as Historia glanced down at the ground, pushing her bangs behind her ear.
"You go first, Miss…Langnar?" She gave an embarssed glimpse at Ymir's ring hand, finding it free of commitment.
"Well," Ymir gave the same look and was relived to find her the same, "I was going to say… there's a cell lecture going on soon…and I think we're going to the same one?"
"Yes!" Historia lit up like a thousand Christmas lights, excited.
"We should…go together…and, um, after… we can read each other's research papers…and share notes and critique…?"
"Yes!" Historia gave the biggest smile that made Ymir's whole world feel as if she swallowed the sun.
"O-Okay!"
.
.
.
"Miss Zoe is amazing!" Historia cried out, gushing at the coffee shop.
Ymir grinned, nodding away like an idiot.
"A true genius! Her thoroughness and accuracy in her experiments are absolutely envious! Brilliant!" Ymir sipped her coffee, returning to reading Historia's work.
The woman was able to make her research eloquent and precise in the way she worded it. It was very easy to follow and didn't once ever wander off like most other papers.
Historia was amazing at writing.
From across the table, Historia Reiss nursed her tea, thoroughly impressed with the way Ymir effortless set up her experiments with consistent variables.
"How many times did you do these experiments?" Historia asked, pausing her read.
"I conduct each one twenty times for accuracy and to ensure rampant variables were isolated."
Historia smiled with such respect it made Ymir blush.
"That's inspiring…"
"So, uh," Ymir could barely put down Historia's research, "uh, where do you live…Miss Reiss?"
"Oh! I live not too far from here—down by the coastline in an apartment. I rent a separate studio for my research," she giggled—was she ashamed of how dedicated she was to her work?
"That's great! That's great," Ymir stopped, realizing…that she'd have to soon fly back to her home state across the country.
"I take it…you live faraway?"
"…Unfortunately," they both stared down, saddened.
It was rare to find someone they found interest in. Improbable to find someone who cared about their line of research and…almost impossible to be as dedicated and crazy about it as they were.
But, Historia wouldn't have it.
"Hey! How about you move in with me? And next year we can apply for a lecture slot after polishing our research!"
"What?!"
"Yes! It will only make sense that we pair up as colleagues and refine our research by doing it together and working hard to showcase it next year! In fact, I know a friend who knows a friend that's close with Miss Hanji Zoe! If we could get her approval on our research, the convention would be absolutely crazy to decline our request!" Historia was standing up, leaning over, pleading and excited beyond all her years, causing people to stare, confused.
Ymir's mouth was open, caught off guard at such an earnest request.
Never did anyone seem so eager to research with her.
Never in her life-
"Yes! Absolutely! You are a genius!" Ymir shot up, slamming her hands, too, feeling as if it was meant to be.
There wasn't any research or previous data in her life to support this theory, but she was biased in believing that this would be the best decision she ever made.
.
.
.
The year went by fast and slow at the same time.
First month Ymir and Historia moved from a one-bedroom to a two-bedroom apartment.
The next it was cluttered with research and instant cups of noodles, but they were excited deep into the night to work together, sitting at separate desks and chatting all hours.
Next they were on the couch together, reading science journals and drinking coffee.
The next they were proofreading their beginning thesis paper with Ymir's head in Historia's lap as she read other people's research out-loud.
The next month Historia was sitting on the couch, looking at Ymir strangely, getting up and asking what was wrong and then screaming and tackling Ymir as the engagement ring went flying somewhere deep in the clutter.
Seasons went by as they got a small house.
A dog.
Another.
Three cats.
Better microscopes.
Their research papers were piling higher and higher as their slideshow became extensive yet simple and interactive.
At last, the night before the convention, Miss Hanji Zoe and their new group of friends popped a champagne bottle, congratulating the married couple on their acceptance to showcase in the nation's best science convention.
.
.
.
"Are you scared?" Ymir asked as Historia buttoned up her laboratory coat.
"A bit. Are you?"
"Hella."
Historia smiled, squeezing her hand.
"Don't worry—Hanji said she sensationalized our entrance…she said this will be the most extensive and best lecture on—"
"You two are up!" Hanji squealed, jumping on them and giving them a hug.
"Knock 'em dead!" She cried, holding a remote, barely able to keep her hands off a button.
Ymir and Historia took a deep breath, grinning at each other, unbelieving that a year ago they were without each other, believing their hardwork would amount to nothing.
It all changed.
Ymir and Historia walked on stage, coats flourishing behind them as Hanji hit the button as sparks went flying from the screen behind them as it turned on, revealing their life's passion and research.
MITOCHONDRIA IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE CELL
The End
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