Time and time again, Toya told Akito that overworking himself the way he did would only lead to trouble. And wouldn’t you know it, he was right.

Sitting on the edge of Akito’s bed he pressed his hand against his forehead, wincing at how hot his skin felt on his palm.

“You definitely feel feverish, you certainly don’t look all that well either. How are you feeling?” He murmured to himself, frowning. He knew how hard Akito worked, perhaps he should’ve been more insistent he take breaks.