The world returned in fragments. First, the smell: antiseptic sharpness layered over the damp-earth scent of grass. Then, sound: muffled voices, the rhythmic beeping of... something. Coolness pressed against my forehead. Light, harsh and fluorescent, stabbed at my eyelids.
I groaned, the sound raspy in my own throat.
"Haruki?" Ayame's voice, close, taut with relief. "Can you hear me?"
I forced my eyes open, squinting against the glare. Blurry shapes resolved: Ayame's worried face leaning over me, her dark eyes wide. Ren stood just behind her shoulder, his usual nonchalance replaced by a rigid tension. Sora hovered near the foot of the cot I was lying on, twisting her fingers, her eyes red-rimmed. Riku paced a small circle nearby, radiating restless energy.
I was in the school infirmary. The familiar, slightly worn cots, the posters about hydration and proper stretching, the lingering scent of Nurse Fujimoto's strong tea.
"Wha... what happened?" My voice was a dry croak.
"You fainted," Ren stated flatly. "Face-planted right outside the tent. Scared the crap out of everyone." There was no accusation in his tone, just stark fact.
"Baka!" Sora choked out, tears welling again. "Pushing yourself like that! In this heat! After... after everything!" She gestured vaguely, encompassing the lingering stress, the Fujisawa shadow.
Ayame placed a cool, damp cloth back on my forehead. "You gave us quite the scare, Haruki-kun. How do you feel now? Dizzy? Nauseous?"
I took stock. The crushing pressure in my chest had eased, replaced by a deep, pervasive exhaustion. The nausea was a dull echo. The world stayed mercifully still when I moved my head slightly. "...Tired," I managed. "Just... really tired. And stupid."
Nurse Fujimoto bustled over, her kind eyes magnified behind her thick glasses, radiating professional calm. "Ah, Tanaka-kun. Back with us? Good." She checked my pulse, shone a penlight briefly in my eyes. "Vitals are stabilizing. Dehydration and overexertion, primarily. Combined with residual stress, perhaps?" She gave me a knowing look that saw far too much – the fight with Kaito, the general tension in the air, the haunted look I probably hadn't managed to hide. "You need rest. Proper rest. And fluids. Lots of them." She handed me a cup of cool water with a straw. "Sip slowly."
I obeyed, the water blissful on my parched throat. The simple act felt grounding.
"Where's... Haruna?" I asked between sips, remembering her offering the drink, her hand reaching back on the wall.
"She went to get more water from the cooler," Ayame said. "She stayed until Nurse Fujimoto said you were stable. She was very concerned."
Just then, the infirmary door opened, and Haruna Miyamoto stepped in, holding two fresh bottles of water. Seeing me conscious, a visible wave of relief washed over her features, softening the usual composed lines of her face. "Tanaka-kun. You're awake. Yokatta." (I'm glad.) She offered a bottle to Ayame and placed the other on the small table beside my cot.
"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over me. "And... sorry. For causing trouble."
"Iie," Haruna shook her head firmly, her chestnut hair swaying. "No trouble. I'm just relieved you're alright. You pushed yourself incredibly hard today." There was admiration mixed with the concern in her voice.
"It was pretty impressive, in a terrifying way," Riku added, finally stopping his pacing. "Like watching a marathon runner hit the wall. Spectacular crash."
"Riku!" Sora elbowed him.
Nurse Fujimoto shooed them gently but firmly. "Alright, alright. Visiting hours are over for now. Tanaka-kun needs quiet. You can check on him briefly after school if he's feeling up to it, but for now – out! Let him rest properly." She turned to me, her expression softening slightly. "I've called your mother. She's on her way. You're going straight home for the rest of the day. Absolute rest. Understood? No screens, no homework. Sleep. Hydrate."
I nodded weakly, the thought of my quiet room, my familiar bed, suddenly overwhelmingly appealing. A sanctuary.
As my friends filed out with murmured promises to check on me later and bring notes, Ayame lingered for a second longer. She squeezed my hand lightly, her touch warm and solid and infinitely reassuring. "Yukkuri yasunde ne, Haruki-kun." (Rest well.) Her gaze held a depth of understanding that went far beyond the simple fainting spell. Her silent message was clear: We see you. We're here.
Haruna offered a final, small, genuine smile. "Get well, Tanaka-kun. Rest is the best strategy now."
Then it was just me, the quiet hum of the infirmary, and the rhythmic beeping. The crash after the adrenaline left me hollow, trembling slightly despite the blanket. Outside the high window, the muffled sounds of Sports Day's finale – distant cheers, tinny announcements – felt detached, happening in another reality. The bronze medal lay cold and heavy on the side table. My friends' care was a lifeline, but the icy water of a much larger, unseen shadow – the fear, the uncertainty, the tragic echo of Fujisawa – still lapped at the edges of my consciousness. The sunlight streaming in felt thin, unable to pierce the deeper chill that had settled within me. Rest was needed. Peace felt like a distant shore.