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Michinaga was sick.
Again.
He just stopped being sick too, so this felt like a personal insult from the universe.
At the very least he was pretty sure this wasn’t any weird Rider illness. He’d actually considered using the number he was given to ask Emu about it, but decided instead to just wait for Natsumi to get back and give him a look over.
Natsumi was out with Tsukasa doing… something. Probably something relevant to their current goal they weren’t telling him about. He was getting annoyed by constantly being left out of those plans.
Right now, he was more annoyed by the stuffed nose he had.
The funniest part might have been the fact he thought he could hide it until Natsumi got back.
He could not.
Daiki spotted him.
Which meant Yusuke figured it out not long after.
Curse this entire polycule for wanting to take care of him for some reason.
Yusuke had ushered him to his room with a tissue box and some water, telling him to get some rest and let them handle everything.
He had his doubts, but he was admittedly very tired. Plus the headache. Whatever he had was determined to make him miserable, and he wouldn’t mind just, laying down for a bit. Just for a bit.
So he let himself get ushered into bed, and only offered token complaints when Yusuke insisted on tucking him in.
(He couldn’t remember the last time someone was so insistent on caring for him. It was nice, as much as it was annoying.)
Hopefully they wouldn’t go too overboard. He had a bad feeling about leaving them alone.
Not his circus though, so he just focused on trying to get some rest.
Daiki was making soup.
He wasn’t an expert on sick people, that was Natsumi’s job, but he understood soup usually didn’t hurt. Plus, he was good at soup. He was good at cooking most things, of course, but soup was up there. And he didn’t have a chance to practice much.
He was about halfway through making the first pot when he heard the wailing.
He poked his head into the main area, finding Yusuke melting into and off the couch.
“What happened?” He asked, crossing the room and a bit worried now.
“Michi’s dying,” Yusuke wailed, sinking further off the couch.
Daiki leaned over. Yusuke had some site pulled up on the laptop with some sort of medical stuff on it. Daiki didn’t read any of it.
He glanced at Yusuke.
So he googled Michinaga’s symptoms. That was probably a bad idea.
Daiki would admit he knew basically nothing about medicine or sick people, but he was pretty sure that googling your symptoms was a bad idea.
Yusuke was making blubbering noises.
Well, arguing with Yusuke would be a waste of effort. There was no getting through to him like this- it was a waste of time, and Daiki still had food on a burner.
Maybe he’d just make more soup. That should help. Maybe.
Michinaga slowly peeled open his eyes to peek through his lashes, looking for what disturbed him.
Fuku shook herself out and turned to blink once at him. She meowed.
“Hi Fuku,” he greeted the tiny cat, freeing one arm from the blankets to reach for her.
She stuck her head under his hand, eager for pets. He felt a smile sneak onto his face.
Something crashed outside his room, startling Fuku and sending a nail through his skull. He groaned, moving his arm over his eyes.
Did they not know he had a headache? And here he thought they were trying to take care of him.
… They were making a mess out there, weren’t they?
Fuku bumped him, apparently recovered from the shock, and in need of more attention.
Oh well. He was sick. Whatever mess they were making wasn’t his problem. Tsukasa and Natsumi could deal with that when they got home.
He had a cat to entertain.
Yusuke was still wailing.
He was curled up under the table in the kitchen. To be closer to Daiki as he wailed, Daiki assumed. Yusuke didn’t actually explain why he moved, he was mostly just making distressed noises and repeating that Michinaga was going to die.
Daiki pulled a pot off the stove and set it aside. It was full of chicken noodle soup. That was a good sick person soup.
He replaced it with a different pot, not bothering to turn off the burner in the time between. He had soup to make.
He also should probably clean up the mess in the main area from the stuff that got spilled. Hm. Later. He was still focused on the soup he was making.
“Daaaiiiii-ssaaaaannn,” Yusuke whined.
“Yes, Yu?” Daiki asked.
“What if-” a sharp gasp and the distinct sound of Yusuke hitting his head on the table as he bolted upright. “What if he dies before they get back?!”
“He won’t,” Daiki brushed off. “Just relax Yu,”
“But he’s dying,” Yusuke whined, collapsing again. “He’s going to die and it’ll be all our fault,”
“No he won’t,” Daiki brushed off. He’d let Tsukasa or Natsumi explain what was actually going on to him. “It’s why I’m making soup.”
“And soup will stop him from dying?” Yusuke’s voice was laced with doubt and a distinct I’m-not-stupid tone. Daiki would argue that point, but he didn’t want to waste his time.
“Well, he can’t die until he has some,” Daiki argued. “And that should keep him going until Nats and Tsu get back,”
Yusuke looked very much like he didn’t believe Daiki. Daiki didn’t particularly care.
He had soup to make.
Michinaga ran a hand down Fuku’s back, the little calico pressed up close to him and purring.
He could feel it more than hear it, which was definitely nice on his head.
The wailing in the other room was not as nice on his head.
He really wanted Yusuke to just shut up.
Maybe he’d just try to focus on Fuku. Possibly take a nap. Better than trying to figure out what was going on with those two.
Tsukasa stepped into the Photo Studio.
It reeked of soup.
“KAITOU!” He shouted, wanting answers.
Daiki’s head popped out from the kitchen. “Ah! You’re back! Good, I can hand Yusuke off to you to handle then.”
“Hand him off?” Tsukasa questioned, stepping further into the room.
“He thinks Azu’s dying,” Daiki shrugged, dipping back into the kitchen.
“Why?!” Natsumi asked, a bit alarmed.
“Kid caught something, Yu googled it,” Daiki shrugged. “Convinced the kid’s dying. Tell him off for me, will ya?”
Tsukasa stepped into the kitchen, Natsumi crouching down to coax Yusuke out from under the table.
Tsuaksa froze.
“Kaitou,” he said slowly, carefully.
“Yeah?” Daiki glanced back, wiping his hands on the towel tossed over his shoulder.
“Why is there ten gallons of soup sitting in the kitchen?!” Tsukasa was careful to keep from shouting. He didn’t know where Michinaga was, nor did he want to disturb Yusuke and Natsumi.
“Kid’s sick,” Daiki shrugged again. “I made soup,”
“Ten gallons,” he repeated, rubbing his temples.
“Yes,” Daiki nodded. “Most of it is chicken noodle, but I’ve got one that’s french onion,”
“French-, Kaitou that takes so long to make- we were gone for an hour,” Tsukasa blanched. “HOW did you manage this?!”
“Time powers,” Daiki shrugged. “I have those you know,”
Tsukasa looked at him like he was insane. “You used your time powers, gifted to you by a madman, to make soup,”
“What better way to spit in that madman’s face?” Daiki shrugged, grinning.
“Kaitou,”
“There was more soup, actually,” Daiki went on.
“MORE?”
“But some weird white guy came and took most of it,” he shrugged. “This is just what was left,”
Tsukasa pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding to ignore the implications of that.
“Kaitou, I am going to kill you,” Tsukasa growled.
“Sure, never managed it before. Feel free to try,” Daiki grinned, turning back to the stove.
Tsukasa mimed strangling him.
“I’m going to check on Michinaga,” Natsumi set a hand on Tsukasa’s shoulder and gestured at Yusuke with the other. “Handle this for me?”
Tsukasa sighed, but nodded. He crouched down to be level with his thoroughly miserable looking Bug while Natsumi went to check on Michinaga.
Worlds help him, he so desperately needed a vacation.
Michinaga blinked open his eyes as Natsumi returned shortly after leaving the first time. She had a tray with her, a bowl of soup and a cup of water balanced on it.
“Yusuke’s been calmed down, and Tsukasa and Daiki are trying to figure out what to do with the extra soup,” she explained in a soft voice. “No one should bother you anymore,”
“Thanks,” he croaked, sitting up a bit.
“It’s just a head cold,” she went on, setting the tray down. “A nasty one, but nothing that you won’t work through on your own, in a day or two. Just get some rest,”
He nodded, accepting the bowl of soup she offered him.
“Thanks,” he repeated, taking a sip of it. It was good, probably made by Daiki.
A hand on his leg.
“Just take a few days, we’ll make sure you have what you need,” Natsumi promised.
And then she left him, to his cold and the cat and a single bowl of soup.
Probably still better than what was happening out in the main room.
…
Yeah that was a them problem. He was going to eat his soup and take a nap. They could handle whatever mess was going on out there on their own.