I tried to make this chapter longer, to make up for my ultra-short previous chapters. I do hope you enjoy.

Just in case some of you will end up confused, a terminal illness is a permanent illness, one that won't go away. It's most commonly used to describe cancer, and usually progressive diseases rather than trauma. I learned about it when I was reading And Then There Were None.


"Why'd you stop me?" I asked my cousin, though I was perfectly aware of the reason. "I'm in a hurry. Yukimura is expecting me, and I cannot afford to be late."

"Hiroshi, something is wrong. You're not leaving this house until I know what's going on. What is it?"

I knew my cousin meant well, but sometimes her questions could grow annoying. "It's nothing, Aya."

"Your expression is strained," she noted softly, "and your posture is stiff. Come now, Hiroshi. It's Niou-kun, isn't it?"

"What about him?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"You're worried," she told me. "You suspect something, but you don't know if it's true. You're unwilling to share it with anyone else for his sake. You think he can overcome whatever it is—psychological or physical—but you have your doubts."

I was startled. "With all due respect, my dear Aya," I said, feigning a laugh, "your suspicions are absolutely incorrect. I am forever grateful for your kindness and compassion, but in this case you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

She knew I was lying.

"I've known you since you were born," she reminded me. "I am also three years older than you. You can't deny this. Why don't you tell me what you saw, and maybe we can work it out together?"

"What I saw? I didn't see anything—" Her sympathetic smile cut me off. There was no denying it now. "Fine. But I have to leave soon, so I must make this quick."

She nodded understandingly. "Go on."

I sighed. "Is there any way you'd leave, satisfied, without an answer?" My voice was pleading now.

"No," she answered firmly. "Your life is as important as anyone's. You must tell me this."

"I saw him the other day," I finally admitted. "He was with one of the college seniors. Actually, I'm not sure. He must have been a senior, because he was wearing the uniform and the badge, but I had never seen him before. Anyway, Niou was with him. The senior gave him something—I think it was a false ID. And another thing: He gave Niou a small brown bag. I'm not sure what was in it, but—"

"But you think you know," she whispered.

"Yes."

--

My head was still woozy, but I forced myself up. I already had a reputation for being the Trickster—I didn't want one for being tardy as well.

"Hangovers," I grumbled, shoving my covers aside and jumping out of bed. I instantly fell to the floor, holding my head in pain. How long had I slept?

A quick glance at the clock gave me my answer—and another headache.

"Fifteen hours," I said to myself wryly. I was lucky it was a weekend.

Sanada wanted to talk to the team or something. I remembered that much, but his face was fuzzy . . . and I couldn't quite remember where we were meeting.

Where am I?

I shook my head. This was getting on my nerves. Quickly, I grabbed a bundle of clothes and threw them on. My gaze wandered to my desk. Hidden in the back were a few bottles of alcohol. Five or six? Did I drink that all last night?

I staggered to the door, taking a tennis racquet with me to avoid suspicion. After all, I could always pretend I was practicing swings in my room. My breath. Did that reek of alcohol too?

I stumbled my way into the bathroom and brushed my teeth a few dozen times. By the eighth, I noticed that bag of white powder again. It stood there, so innocent, mocking me. Too scared was I to take it.

How had I gotten it, anyway? Who gave it to me?

And what exactly did I intend to do with it? Not even I knew.

--

"Good afternoon, senpai-tachi!" I cheered, bouncing into the courts. Yukimura-buchou welcomed me with a smile, Jackal nodded, Marui-senpai welcomed me with a punch on the arm, and Yagyuu scolded me for being rowdy. Everything was fine.

However, Niou-senpai seemed rather faint.

I greeted him with a kick to the ankle as I always did, but instead of giving me a roundhouse kick in return, he flinched and nearly toppled to the floor. "Do you mind?" he snapped. I backed away at the harshness of his voice. There wasn't any humor in it at all.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and shuffled away.

Yukimura smiled warmly, but I was getting worried. Niou didn't usually react like that, and he seemed paler than usual. Sanada looked disturbed as well.

I shook it away. Maybe I was seeing things? Cheering up, I inquired, "Why did you call us here, Mura-buchou?"

He smiled again, but this time his expression seemed hollow. The godly, sadistic grin had vanished.

Yes, I was definitely seeing things.

"Let's wait until everyone else is here," he suggested. Everyone else bought the excuse, but I thought he was stalling.

Who was missing?

Ah, yes. Yanagi-senpai.

"Sorry I'm late," he shouted from the entrance, running over to us. Speak of the devil, and he shall cometh. "I had to . . . do a little research before I left the house." He was clearly unwilling to share any more information.

"So?" I prompted. "What is it, Mura-buchou?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sanada stiffen.

Yukimura hesitated, then blurted out, "I might have a terminal illness."