Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Medicine

Shimizu Sakuya’s shout immediately drew the attention of the teacher standing on the high platform.

The teacher blew a sharp whistle and called out with concern from afar, “Shimizu-san, do you need someone to accompany you to the infirmary?”

In an instant, all eyes in the venue were on her.

Shimizu Sakuya slowly walked toward the teacher, her legs weak and trembling slightly with each step.

Breathing heavily, she struggled to regulate her breath as she reported to the teacher, “Sensei, it’s alright. I can go by myself.”

“Then go ahead,” the teacher nodded, then patted Shimizu Sakuya on the shoulder and earnestly advised, “Shimizu-san, you really need to exercise more. Young people shouldn’t have such poor physical health. Falling ill every now and then is no good.”

“Understood,” Shimizu Sakuya replied perfunctorily. As she turned away, her gaze unintentionally met Ayase Aoi’s intense, inexplicably persistent stare from the crowd.

But she didn’t linger on it for long. Instead, she left the gymnasium directly, passing through the cherry blossom-lined path and the sculpted fountain at the school’s center, arriving at the door of the infirmary.

The infirmary door was slightly ajar, and faint murmurs of a quiet conversation could be heard inside.

At moments like these, most people would eavesdrop—listening in on others’ gossip is an innate human instinct.

Shimizu Sakuya was no exception.

She pressed her ear against the door, quietly stealing the secrets of others.

A low, gentle female voice said, “Remember to take it after meals, otherwise it’ll hurt your stomach.”

“Got it. Thank you, Sakura-sensei.”

The reply came in a bright, clear girl’s voice, one that Shimizu Sakuya found strangely familiar.

It sounded like someone very close to her.

The low female voice continued, “Also, you can only take one pill a day at most. No more than that.”

“Sakura-sensei, what about my hand? It’s—”

The low voice interrupted, its tone gradually rising until it became a stern warning, “You can’t keep training endlessly like this. Go to the National University Hospital for treatment right after the selection tournament. No more delays—not if you still want to keep swinging your sword.”

At the mention of “swinging your sword,” Shimizu Sakuya shuddered, suddenly realizing.

The familiar voice gradually matched the person in her memories—that bright, clear tone belonged to none other than… her childhood friend, Amami Saori.

She leaned closer, peering through the slightly open door. Inside, a girl with a flowing white high ponytail stood with her back to the door, wearing the school’s standard gym uniform.

It was unmistakably Saori…

What was wrong with her hand? What medicine was she taking?

Shimizu Sakuya took two steps back, pressing against the wall. Her slender brows furrowed slightly, her sea-blue eyes unfocusing as she sank deep into thought.

Another event that didn’t match the original storyline had occurred.

Was this the reason why Fujiwara Yuki said Saori wasn’t as simple as she seemed? Or was there something else?

She already knew about the flaw in Saori’s personality—being shackled by the label of perfection.

But if it was something else…

The sharp screech of a chair being dragged across the floor snapped her back to reality.

Oh no—Saori was coming out.

Thanks to the intense exercise earlier, Shimizu Sakuya’s face was still pale and bloodless, appearing extremely fragile.

This worked perfectly for her act.

She quickly put on the facade of a sickly girl who had just arrived at the infirmary, running straight into Amami Saori, whose expression was unusually serious.

She had honed her acting skills through repeated playthroughs of the game’s endings, and now it came to her effortlessly.

“Huh?” Shimizu Sakuya covered her mouth, feigning surprise at bumping into her dear friend, her voice tinged with delight. “Saori, what are you doing here?”

Amami Saori was also taken aback, her hand unconsciously pulling the plastic bag behind her back.

The seriousness on her face vanished, replaced by a bright, sunny smile as she softly explained, “Ah, I had a bit of a stomachache earlier, but I’m feeling much better now.”

She was carefully hiding something, clearly afraid Shimizu Sakuya would notice.

But Saori seemed to think her act wasn’t natural enough. Noticing Sakuya’s pale face, she quickly shifted to a tone of concern, asking anxiously, “But Sakuya, why are you here at the infirmary? Did your asthma flare up again?”

Shimizu Sakuya hurriedly waved her hands. “No, no! I just got tired from running in P.E., so I came here to rest a bit.”

“That’s good. Do you want me to stay with you in the infirmary for a while?”

“No need. More importantly, Saori—you came to the infirmary alone when you weren’t feeling well. Next time something happens, tell me, okay? I’ll always be there for you.”

As she spoke, Sakuya patted Saori on the shoulder. The moment she did, Saori’s body stiffened like a drawn bowstring, tense and rigid.

Only when she heard the words “no need” did Saori’s expression relax with relief.

If not for the way Saori had subtly tried to hide the plastic bag of medicine behind her back, Sakuya might have believed she was genuinely worried about her.

Amami Saori didn’t want her to know about the medicine.

“You were in the middle of P.E. class, after all. It’s fine—my body is much stronger than yours anyway.”

Saori patted her chest, her tone hurried as she made an excuse to leave, “Well, Sakuya, if you don’t need me to stay, then I’ll go ahead and get back to training.”

Not wanting to act rashly, Sakuya didn’t stop her to press for more answers. Instead, she nodded and said, “Go ahead. See you later,” before stepping into the infirmary.

The infirmary was quiet, with only three beds separated by white curtains.

The “Sakura-sensei” Fujiwara Yuki had mentioned sat at the consultation desk, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a simple, elegant white doctor’s coat. Her hair was neatly tied up, exuding a mature, reassuring aura.

She was looking down, one hand holding a pen while the other flipped through a medical record, seemingly deep in thought.

Perhaps she could get some information about Amami Saori from the teacher.

Noticing Sakuya enter, she looked up and asked, “Is something wrong, student?”

“Sensei, I’m not feeling well. I came to rest for a bit.”

“Then go lie down on one of the beds over there. Let me know if you need anything.” She gestured to the nearby bed before lowering her head to continue reading.

“Okay.”

Shimizu Sakuya climbed onto the bed, then pretended to ask out of concern, “Sensei, my friend Saori was here earlier, right? Was she feeling unwell? I’m really worried.”

The pen in Sakura-sensei’s hand suddenly stopped spinning. She looked up at Shimizu Sakuya, the gold frames of her glasses reflecting a bright light as she replied with some surprise, “She didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Shimizu Sakuya took off her shoes and sat on the bed in a half-seiza position.

Sakura-sensei set down the medical record, her expression guarded. “I’m sorry, but if you want to know, you’ll have to wait for her to tell you herself. I can’t disclose a patient’s private information.”