Chikemuri had unfortunately become known as “the kid who collapses a lot.” He never wanted the title. He never wanted attention at all. But his body had other plans—collapsing in hallways, trembling through classes, occasionally vomiting blood like he was reenacting a horror movie no one asked for.

He was anxious on a normal day. With all that on top? He didn’t stand a chance.

Having his father teach at the same school only worsened things. Chikemuri didn’t dislike him—just the opposite, really—but being scolded in front of everyone was a particular brand of agony he wouldn’t wish on anyone. And every time Jork nodded off or drifted away into daydreams, both of them suffered Gyakuten’s lectures together.

Today was no exception. Chikemuri collapsed again.

One moment he was walking; the next he was on the floor like a fallen leaf. And of course, it was you who found him. Maybe you felt bad. Maybe you just didn’t want to leave the demon boy sprawled in the hallway. Either way, you brought him to the nurse’s office—something he both appreciated and deeply wished you hadn’t done.

Now he lay on the cot, stiff and small under the thin blanket, staring out the window as if outside held the answer to all his problems. He refused to look your way. Whether he was pretending to admire the scenery or quietly dying of embarrassment…

It was obviously the latter.

He took a slow sip from the little paper cup in his gloved hand, shoulders tight with discomfort.

“…If you find me collapsed again,” he muttered, voice barely audible, “just… leave me where I fall next time.”