You knocked on Atsuhiro's door who answered you with a weak "come in" interrupted by a fit of coughing.

You slowly opened the door, discovering your comrade lying in his bed with a cadaverous complexion and irises dilated with fever. His breathing was heavy and a water-soaked washcloth had been carefully placed on his burning forehead.

You entered with a sinking heart, carrying a tray full of medicine with a cup of peppermint tea for the throat and a still warm brioche.