Tempted though Yuusuke was to ignore Yasutomo and Tadokoro for a while, he soon reappeared with a Pocari Sweat, to find Yasutomo had since curled up in fetal position on the bed, head down and arms tucked to his abdomen.

"His Majesty laughed too hard and now he's dying," explained Tadokoro, tone deadpan.

"Shuddup.." wheezed Yasutomo. Yuusuke sighed, but stepped closer and held out the bottle all the same.

"I got you a sports drink, sho. Can you drink it on your own or do you need help, sho?"

"Give it here.." Yasutomo reached out a trembling hand. Yuusuke's brow furrowed, but he opened the Pocari Sweat, equipped it with the straw from the empty Bepsi bottle, then set it down by Yasutomo's head, who curled his fingers around the base.

"I'll drink it in a minute.." he whispered. "Promise.."

Yuusuke hummed.

"We should go and tell the seniors what happened," he glanced to Tadokoro, who caught his meaning and rose from his seat. "We'll be back soon, sho."

"Aight.."

Tadokoro walked out and Yuusuke followed, peering over his shoulder one last time to see Yasutomo release the bottle so he could wrap both arms around his stomach, breath labored.

They arrived just in time to catch Shiraiwa, who had stopped for an interval and a drink.

"Ah, there you are, Tadokoro," he chided as soon as they entered the open tent. "Where have you been? Someone left an awful mess in here, it stinks like a sewer!"

"Uh, Shiraiwa-san.." Tadokoro cleared his throat. "Arakita had an energy gel and threw up, so we took him to the nurse's office. He's looking bad."

Shiraiwa paused. His features twitched, then smoothed out just as fast.

"I knew he wouldn't last," he shook his head without an ounce of surprise. "That jackass… he doesn't know how to take care of himself at all, does he. You've seen those bruises..! Well, Tadokoro did, since Makishima likes to do things at his own pace," he added, ignoring the way Yuusuke colored. "I'm sorry for him, but guys like Arakita are all talk and nothing else."

With that, Shiraiwa turned around and mounted his road racer.

"Tadokoro, clean up that mess. Makishima, you have more laps to do."

Shiraiwa then took off, missing the way Yuusuke clenched his fists and stepped forward, much too late to confront him.

"Makishima..?" mumbled Tadoroko. Yuusuke's expression grew savage.

"How could Shiraiwa-san say that?" he pleaded, eyes wide. "Arakita was doing so well! Did you know he lives in the dorm, Tadokorocchi? He works himself to death every day and then goes back to a tiny dorm room, and he's still stronger than us! That's amazing! Don't they get how amazing he is?!"

Tadokoro stared at him bewildered. Yuusuke flushed and averted his eyes.

"I'll.. go back and stay with Arakita. Do you, wanna come..?"

Tadokoro scratched at the back of his head.

"I'll.. clean up first, and then I'll join you," he promised. Yuusuke hummed, his smile grateful.

They couldn't have been gone for more than ten minutes, but by the time Yuusuke returned, the office floor gleamed as if freshly mopped, and Yasutomo lay on his back, eyes closed and an IV hooked to his arm. His nose crinkled as Yuusuke approached.

"Makishima.. sorry," he flashed a weak smile. "I drank it, but I couldn't keep it down…"

Yuusuke's face scrunched up.

"Don't be sorry! Just rest and get better, sho," he breathed as he sank down on a nearby chair, head hanging. Yasutomo hummed.

Eventually, a knock on the door announced Tadokoro, who slipped in with a plastic bag.

"I got us some drinks, some snacks, and a pack of playing cards courtesy of Kinjou… and, I parked your road racer behind the tent so nobody would notice you're gone," he winked at Yuusuke.

"You're the best, Tadokorocchi," Yuusuke grinned at him. Tadokoro chuckled. "So, what do we play, sho?"

"I have a game for ya.." mumbled Yasutomo, voice barely there. "It's called dying.. and I think I'm gonna win.."

"How are you still alive?" muttered Tadokoro. Yasutomo grinned.

"It's because.. I actually suck at dying…"

Yuusuke snorted into his palm. Tadokoro's shoulders quaked.

"I gotta admit, you're one tough guy, Arakita," he laughed as he lifted an arm to give Yasutomo's shoulder a friendly tap, then remembered the bruises at the last moment and drew his hand back. Yuusuke sighed in relief. Yasutomo gave a thumbs-up.

"You guys have fun now. I'm gonna pass out.."

"Thanks."

"Rest well, sho."

Tadokoro and Yuusuke soon placed the nightstand between them, and for the rest of the afternoon, they tried half a dozen different card games with varying success, sometimes stopping for a drink or snack, and at the end, to award Yasutomo with an ice-cold Bepsi for not dying.

Beyond occasional trips to the bathroom and the vending machine, they only left Yasutomo's side for dinner, at which point Yuusuke discovered that his GIAS had been transferred to the bicycle rack along with Yasutomo's Bianche, their sensors gone.

Kinjou: 720 km

Arakita: 645 km

Makishima: 450 km

That evening, all their seniors could talk of was Kinjou's talent, integrity, perseverance, and commitment to the road racing club's goals, while pointedly ignoring Yuusuke and Tadokoro. Judging by Kinjou's troubled smiles, however, he wished his seniors would have used their mouths exclusively for consumption, and later confirmed the first-years' suspicion when he asked to bathe with them instead. Yuusuke excused himself, saying he would go later, but Tadokoro accepted. Kinjou seemed relieved.

With Tadokoro's assistance, Yasutomo soon joined them in the bath, with just enough presence of mind to wash himself in silence… or so it seemed, until Kinjou sat down on the stool next to him and Yasutomo sniffed the air, nose twitching.

"You're done too, huh, Kinjou.."

"Arakita-kun..?" mumbled Kinjou, shoulders tense. Yasutomo sighed.

"Your leg's gonna give out soon.. Don't ride anymore."

"Kinjou…" whispered Tadokoro. "Are you—?"

Kinjou paled and turned his head away, features hardening.

At that moment, cowering on a plastic bathing stool short enough to plant his feet on the ground, Kinjou's agitated mind pulled up the rich tapestry of life lessons this training camp had weaved for him so far, tugging at two intertwined threads. One, that sometimes, too much faith placed in you could be as lethal as too little of it; and the other, that the very same people investing that faith in such varying degrees would thus produce starkly different foundations for their subjects: a pool of quicksand for Tadokoro to struggle and sink in, and a steep pedestal for Kinjou, where the only way off was to plummet in a spectacular crash.

As for Yuusuke and Yasutomo, Kinjou soon drew another parallel. While one was being punished with corrections for his irregular form, the other was being corrected through punishments for his irregular spirit, and yet this treatment produced no "desirable" results in either. And how could it, when neither had a talent for conformity, and now harbored a deep-seated resentment towards those in charge? Indeed, the more Kinjou dwelled on the four of them, the more he was forced to wonder if their seniors were guilty of misjudgment, rather than miscalculation, now that their decisions had escalated into an avalanche of failures and toppled the first-years like dominoes.

Kinjou had seen their road racers, prematurely stripped of their sensors the way one might clip the wings of birds to prevent their flight. He caught Tadokoro's puffy eyes, Yuusuke's stubborn silence, and Yasutomo's shallow, acrid breath. Of the four riders, only Kinjou remained standing now, and in spirit, he gathered the selfish hopes he had once hung from Yasutomo's neck like a garland of chains, and wrapped them around his own throat. He would not give up. For his friends' sakes, Kinjou would do whatever it took to ace the training camp menu and carry their wishes to the stage of the Inter-high - to forge a new, better hope of their own.

Except, due to his unsolicited handicap, Kinjou was fast approaching his limit. Each day, he rode further and longer than the last to make up for his lackluster start, and each night, he felt it in his joints like the crawl of borers inside an infested tree, crushing the branches from within.

And yet he was so close now..! Only two hundred and eighty kilometers left!

Don't ride anymore.

But—!

Kinjou… bad things come to those who ignore their limits, said the former best new pitcher of Kanagawa, and unable to dismiss Yasutomo's experiences or that pale centipede of a scar, Kinjou clenched his jaws and washed his aching knee in silence.

Nobody spoke afterwards. Some wouldn't, and after a while, Yasutomo just couldn't.

Yuusuke arrived to the bath just as the three of them had left it, Yasutomo clinging to Tadokoro for support. Yuusuke's shoulders hunched, but he said goodnight to them, then entered the locker room without another glance, scolding himself for being unreasonable.

When Yuusuke left the bath at last, undisturbed once more, he skidded to a halt at the sight of Tadokoro and Yasutomo on the bench, the latter passed out and drooling over Tadokoro's shoulder. Yuusuke's eyes widened. Tadokoro huffed.

"Can you believe this guy?" he grumbled, arms folded. "Halfway down the hall, he demanded I bring him back here so he could sit around until ten. What does that even mean?"

Yuusuke checked his phone. A scant half an hour had passed since they met at the entrance - his usual bathing time…

"I don't know. He's an idiot, sho," muttered Yuusuke, cheeks dangerously warm. "Let's just take him back before he thinks of something dumber and hurts himself, sho."

"King of dumbasses indeed," groused Tadokoro as he pulled Yasutomo over his shoulders, jostling him half-conscious in the process.

"Is he done yet.." slurred Yasutomo. Tadokoro quirked his brow. Yuusuke flushed crimson.

"Yeah.. we're all done, sho…" he stammered, a hand pressed to his hot face.

"All done for, you mean," added Tadokoro, who broke into a power shuffle down the hall, refusing to listen to any more gross coupley gibberish that night.

After due consideration, they took Yasutomo to the nurse's office, where he was gently laid to rest, and his friends assured he would be in good hands. Before they left, Yuusuke brought him a Pocari Sweat and a straw to leave on his nightstand, "because he's an idiot and he might try to get up for a drink and hurt himself, sho." Tadokoro shook his head at him, unsure which was greater, his pity or amusement, but one glare from Yuusuke, and he decided better of saying so.

They slipped into their room and found Kinjou lying on his back, hands wringing the blanket and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Cheer up, Kinjou..!" Tadokoro tried for a reassuring smile as he and Yuusuke settled down. "Sitting out isn't so bad once you've got company..!"

"What are you talking about?" replied Kinjou, a little too fast and a little too sharp. "I'm still riding tomorrow."

"But, Arakita said your leg was—"

"Arakita-kun was delirious. There's nothing wrong with my leg."

Tadokoro and Yuusuke exchanged glances. Tadokoro shrugged, unsure. Yuusuke furrowed his brow.

"Don't push yourself too hard, sho.."

"You mean like you?" retorted Kinjou, regretting his words instantly as Yuusuke's features darkened. "I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me. Forgive me, Makishima-kun.."

Yuusuke frowned at him.

"Arakita might be delirious, but you're really out of it yourself, sho," he scolded, though he seemed to soften when Kinjou's face scrunched up.

"It's this training camp, Makishima. It's getting to us," whispered Tadokoro, his delivery worthy of a campsite horror story. Yuusuke clicked his tongue.

"All we're missing now is a pig's head on a stick, sho."

"What is that, Ito Junji?"

"William Golding."

"..Close enough!"

Yuusuke laughed. Even Kinjou laughed a little… and come dawn, he snuck outside like a thief, to finish what he had started.

At length, Yasutomo stirred, nose quivering as it mapped his surroundings behind closed eyelids. The sterile ambience of the nurse's office, his own stale sweat.. And to his right, smelling so nice… Makishima..?

"Arakita..? Are you awake, sho?"

Man, I'm good.

"Morning.." Yasutomo opened his eyes, managing a faint smile to try and match Yuusuke's, whose hands curled around a misty bottle of Bepsi. Yasutomo perked up.

"That for me?" he pointed. Yuusuke's cheeks tinged.

"I figured you might like one, sho," he handed it over, watching with relief as Yasutomo lifted away from his pillow, propped his back against the backrest, and took a long draught, no straw required.

He briefly lowered the bottle to ask, "Where are the others?"

"Outside," grinned Yuusuke. "It seems you were wrong, and Kinjou's leg is fine after all, sho! He's been riding since—"

He froze as Yasutomo choked on his drink and sprayed the sheets. "—dawn…"

"FUCK! Hold this!" Yasutomo shoved his half-empty bottle into Yuusuke's hands and sprang out of bed, one hand pressed against his stomach.

"A-Arakita! Wait up! Where are you going?!" Yuusuke hurried after him.

"Number one rule, Makishima," growled Yasutomo, picking up the pace, "your scent NEVER LIES! Fuck!"

They were in luck. Shortly after they reached the scoreboard, Kinjou appeared on his road racer, to skid to a halt in front of Yasutomo.

"You're ruining your knee!" he snapped. "I can see you shaking, dumbass!"

Kinjou heaved, face pale. Yasutomo sighed.

"Kinjou… it's over."

"But I can still make it! I will never give up—"

"Kinjou!"

His tone struck Kinjou silent. When he had to, Yasutomo's tongue could cut through steel.

"There's a difference between calling it quits for your own good, and having to stop because you wrecked yourself beyond repair. You're heading towards the latter. I should know."

Kinjou swallowed, hard. Yasutomo arched his head.

"You'll ace this training camp next year. Until then, take better care of yourself, and save that attitude for real races, moron!"

As Kinjou broke down in tears, Yasutomo slumped in relief, then seized up and doubled over, splattering the ground with Bepsi.

They wound up at the nurse's office together. Kinjou received bandages, Yasutomo an IV.

Kinjou: 775 km

Six hours later, the first-years crawled into the back of the rental midibus, away from their smug, contented seniors. Instead of feigning sleep as usual, Tadokoro ended up comforting a subdued, embarrassed Kinjou huddling in the right corner. Yuusuke sat on the opposite end, staring into space… and across their laps sprawled a catatonic, barely breathing Yasutomo, his feet propped on Kinjou's thighs and his head cradled in Yuusuke's lap, who wondered what would become of him once he was back at the dorm, with no one to look after him.

Injury, Despair, Atrophy, and Defiance. In the end, the four riders realized that they didn't get any closer to the Inter-high. They didn't get much closer to their own goals, either.

Instead, they got closer to each other.