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When Makoto got up this morning, something felt off. But he didn’t expect his day to turn out like this.
Wondering why he felt so anxious, Makoto stuck his head out of his bedroom door, praying to every deity he could think of that nobody else had died. And thankfully, nobody has died… but things are still pretty crappy around here.
He got dressed and headed to the cafeteria, only to bump into Chihiro in the hallway. Still wearing his nightdress, Chihiro stumbled on his feet, nearly falling when he collided with Makoto, and Makoto saw his face was waxy and white.
“Are you okay?” Makoto said. “You look—”
But he didn’t get to finish his sentence. Because Chihiro groaned, pressed a hand to his stomach and… threw up all over the floor.
“Shit!” Makoto cried, grabbing Chihiro’s arm when he stumbled again. He helped Chihiro to the floor, where he kneeled and threw up again. “Hey, Chihiro, are you sick?”
Chihiro started to sob, tears running down his face. “I’m sorry. I just feel so…”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Hey, there you are!” Mondo yelled, running around the corner. His hands were dripping wet, like he just washed them. “Shit, man, you’re really sick, aren’t you?”
Chihiro nodded, sniffing. Mondo put a comforting if slightly awkward hand on Chihiro’s back, rubbing in circles.
“What’s going on?” Makoto said.
“We think he’s got food poisoning,” Mondo explained, whilst Chihiro puked again. “Found him half an hour ago in the boys’ bathroom, puking. We think it’s that salmon you had yesterday, don’t we, man?”
Chihiro coughed, rubbing his eyes. “Uh, y-yeah. It did taste funny. And I woke up feeling so sick. Sorry about this.”
“No, it’s okay,” Makoto said. “It happens.”
But then something hit him. judging by the look on Mondo’s face, he had worked it out too.
“How… many of you ate the salmon, Chihiro?” Makoto asked.
Chihiro realised what he meant. “Oh dear. Uh, a few of us.”
Makoto glanced at Mondo. “We might have a food poisoning epidemic on our hands.”
“Shit,” Mondo said.
And when Makoto went into the warehouse to find some stuff to clean up the mess, Monokuma popped up, scaring the crap out of him.
“I heard you and Mondo, and you’re right,” Mokokuma said, giggling. “Four of you are infected. Have fun, upupupu!”
And as the irritating bear pissed off, Makoto sighed.
And all of this explains why he now stands in the kitchen trying to make a honey and lemon drink, wishing he didn’t have to be a nurse. These next few days are going to be fun. Not.
---
Chihro groans as he swallows some water, his stomach lurching after a single sip. Ugh, he feels so sick.
“Are you feeling any better, Chihiro?” Kiyotaka asks, rummaging through a first aid kit in search for a thermometer.
“Does he look it, man?” Mondo snaps, returning from Chihiro’s shower room with his sick bowl now clean.
“I was simply trying to reassure him, Mondo.”
“Oh stop bickering,” Chihiro says, his voice scratchy from being sick so many times. He shoots the biggest glare he can manage at his two friends, but he doesn’t mean it, and he knows they don’t either.
“Here, let me take your temperature,” Kiyotaka says, smiling.
Chihiro opens his mouth and lets Taka slip the old-fashioned thermometer under his tongue, whilst Mondo settles the bowl next to him on his bed and ruffles his sweaty hair. Honestly, Chihiro never thought he’d be friends with a biker and a hall monitor (or living as a boy – or stuck in a school were three of his friends have died, but he doesn’t want to think about that), but they’re such good guys.
Taka removes the thermometer and studies it. “Hmm, it appears your fever is going down.”
Chihiro smiles weakly, before his stomach lurches and he reaches for the bowl.
---
“Sakura, I feel like crap,” Aoi moans as she kneels in front of the toilet, her head hanging over the bowl.
“I have noticed that, Hina,” Sakura says. She crouches beside Aoi in the small shower room, and rubs her back with her huge hand. “Unfortuantly, there is little I can do other than make you comfortable.”
“I know. It just sucks. I—”
Aoi cuts herself off when more vomit rises in her throat, and she throws up. She groans, coughing up stomach acid that burns her throat and makes her mouth taste disgusting. How many times has she been sick in the last few hours?
“Ssh, just try to get it all up, Hina, dear. I am sure you will feel a bit better soon,” Sakura says, and her soothing voice helps the tiniest bit.
And, well, if she has to feel like shit, at least Sakura is here to look after her.
---
Resisting the urge to groan, Byakuya lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. He is so painfully bored, yet too weak to get up and do anything. It was enough of a challenge to crawl to the bathroom earlier to urinate, so he knows going to the library to read is out of the question.
He started feeling like this in the night, weak and achy and… pathetic. His muscles ache despite not overexerting them, his skin is clammy no matter how many times he wipes his face, and constant nausea will not leave him alone. He hasn’t vomited yet, but Byakuya fears he may at any moment. Anyway, all of this is pathetic and most unbecoming of a Togami.
But the worst part is…
“M-Master, I’ve brought y-you some water.”
In the weakened state, he has had no choice but to accept aid from the only person who offered: Touko.
Touko wanders into his bedroom, carrying a bottle of water in one hand and a thick book in the other. Byakuya doesn’t thank her for the water, but also doesn’t say anything harsh. Touko must be satisfied by this, because she smiles.
“Uh, Master, I-I couldn’t help but notice you r-reading this book in the library yesterday…”
“Because you were stalking me?” Byakuya says, hating how weak his voice sounds.
Blushing, Touko says, “Y-Yeah, I guess you could put it like that. Anyway, I thought you c-could read it now.”
Byakuya rolls his eyes. But still… “I… appreciate the idea. Now please leave me be.”
“Yes, Master.”
---
“Kyouko, what are you doing?” Makoto says when he wanders into his friend’s bedroom, a tray in his hands.
Kyouko stops putting on her shoes, staring at Makoto with bloodshot eyes and clammy cheeks. “Nothing.”
“Yes you are. Get back into bed. If you’re bored, I can get you something to do here.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Kyouko says, getting back into bed with obvious reluctance. “However, I’m not bored so much as restless.”
“I don’t blame you there,” he says, putting the tray down on her desk. “I get really restless when I’m sick. But it’s for your own good. The others are all in bed too.”
Kyouko raises an eyebrow. “I understand. Did you get what I asked for?”
“I did,” Makoto says, picking up a packet of rice balls and some tradition candy, hardly the sort of thing he’d expect her to eat. Maybe this is Kyouko’s comfort food for when she’s sick.
“…Thank you, Makoto,” Kyouko says, giving him a rare smile.
---
When Makoto gets to bed that night, he’s totally exhausted. Who knew nursing was such hard work?