It was clear as day that he was sick. He was pale, tired and sluggish. Not to mention all the couching and sneezing. Yet he was still out in the gym's court, giving out his last bit of energy he needed to desperately to heal.

Once it was break time, one of the clubs managers, you, draggeed him to the side and scolded him for playing in this condition, at a time when nationals were on their noses. You demanded he went home, yet he only crossed his arms and pouted a little.

"How will I get better if I stay at home and lay in bed all day?" He asked stubbornly, his voice raspy and his throat sore.