Work Text:
It was an ordinary Saturday night.
I was eating ice cream after my bath and watching television when the intercom rang several times. Opening the door — I found my assigned student standing there.
"Stay Gold? What's wrong — you're past the dorm curfew, aren't you?"
"……"
"If you submitted a night-out form that would be another thing, but even so you shouldn't come to the trainers' dorm. Even for your own assigned trainer, that's—"
"……"
"Stay Gold? Hey, Stay Gold?"
She must have just come back from some short trip somewhere — Still in her usual casual clothes, Stay Gold was standing rigid as a post, staring at me with those large eyes of hers. But her gaze was strangely vacant, as if she were looking at me while not really seeing me at all. Her face was flushed red with sweat despite the warmth, and yet she was trembling in tiny, rapid shivers, and—
"…Sorry, can I touch your forehead for a second?"
"……"
"Oh — that's hot."
She was burning up.
I went to the sink to put away the damp towel that had already gone cold, took a carrot-flavored jelly drink from the fridge, and pulled a Toughness 30 from the back of the shelf for good measure, setting it all on a small tray. In this line of work, I keep nutritional supplements and jelly drinks on hand as a matter of course — not needing to run out and buy them in moments like this is one of the perks of being a trainer.
When I came back to the room, Stay Gold had burrowed under the covers on my bed. She'd shed her casual clothes — apparently she'd already put them in the wash — and was wearing a spare set of my sweats instead, which were predictably too big on her. The sleeves and hems hung long, and only her fingertips peeked out from under the blanket.
"Did you take your temperature?"
I settled onto the edge of the bed and spoke to her. A pause followed. Answering must have felt like too much effort. Eventually, from somewhere inside the blanket, came a hoarse voice. The blanket rose and fell in small, irregular rhythm — she was having trouble breathing.
"…For…ty…"
"Forty? That's a high fever."
Forty degrees. Even accounting for the fact that Uma Musume run a naturally higher baseline temperature of thirty-seven to thirty-eight degrees — that was clearly unwell. I turned the number over in my head and let out a sigh.
"You must have had a rough time just walking here in that state. You should have let me know — I would have come to pick you up."
"It came on suddenly this afternoon."
Stay Gold poked her face out of the blanket, watery eyes glaring at me in the weary way of a child in the middle of a tantrum. Except for that look, she was pure fevered misery.
"Did you go to a doctor?"
I asked. She turned her eyes away slowly and shook her head.
"I don't like hospitals."
"You don't like them — but that doesn't really…most people don't, I think, but—"
"The check-ups take forever."
"True."
"And there's a strange smell."
"Also true."
"And they stick that rolled paper up your nose and it hurts."
"Yes. That does hurt."
The words fell one by one, weaker than her usual voice. I opened the jelly and the drink for her while she was too tired to manage it herself, and said reproachfully:
"But without medication, things that should heal won't. Over-the-counter medicines only go so far…"
"It's fine. I'll sleep it off and be better tomorrow."
"Then let's get you back to the dorm. Should I call the dorm mother, or your juniors?"
"No. That defeats the purpose of coming to your place."
I don't want them worrying, Stay Gold said, lips pressed into a pout. She had a point, I thought. Her roommate was Gold Ship, wasn't it — if Gold Ship saw Stay Gold laid up sick, I could easily picture her rushing off in a panic to knead udon, and it wasn't just Gold Ship — seniors and juniors who admired Stay Gold would obviously come barging in to nurse her or visit.
It spoke to how dearly loved she was by everyone around her. Whether she could actually rest quietly in those circumstances, though, was another matter.
I let out a small breath.
"…Alright."
I said it reluctantly, and Stay Gold peered at me from inside the blanket.
"I'll let the dorm mother know myself. You can stay tonight."
"Mm."
One short sound in answer. But with just that, she seemed to let out a breath of relief, some tension leaving her shoulders. You impossible person, I thought, hiding a wry smile. If she was well enough to drag herself all the way here with a raging fever, she could have called for help from the start.
"So — do you have an appetite?"
When I asked, Stay Gold let her gaze drift for a moment, thinking.
"…I want ochazuke."
"Denied. It'll upset your stomach. Let's do porridge."
"I don't want porridge."
"I'll try my best. Now about the medicine — here, this…"
I held up the package of antipyretics I normally use, and Stay Gold made an openly disgusted face.
"I don't like medicine either. It's bitter."
"You keep saying you don't like things. Look — these are sugar-coated, not bitter."
"If you fail to swallow them properly they go bitter."
"You have a point there."
I nodded before I could stop myself. Stay Gold looked briefly triumphant — but the fever was slowing her down, and the expression ran out of steam partway through. She pressed her cheek back into the blanket.
"My head is killing me… feels like it's about to split…"
"See? You really are suffering. Being stubborn about it isn't good for you."
"Uuu…"
"How do I get you to take it…"
I was frowning and crossing my arms, doing a mental search for how to give medicine to a toddler in the no-I-don't-want stage, when a hand suddenly reached out from inside the blanket.
Fingers hot with fever, catching gently at the hem of my shirt.
"Mm?"
"Hey."
A hoarse voice. A soft, vulnerable tone she would never normally use — I leaned in closer instinctively. Stay Gold's eyes wandered for a moment as if searching for words, and then she murmured quietly:
"Stay close to me."
"I am close?"
"No. I want you to sleep with me."
"Huh? …No, no, no, absolutely not."
Is she in her right mind? Well — probably not, given the fever, I thought, even as I waved both hands in refusal.
"You don't have to worry. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight, so don't mind me."
"I don't want that."
"You don't want it—"
"I want to be together."
"I can't sleep in the same bed as someone who is technically still a student, that's just—"
"We slept in the same tent."
"In separate sleeping bags!"
But Stay Gold wouldn't be persuaded. If anything, the fever seemed to be dulling her judgment, because she just kept looking up at me steadily from inside the blanket.
"I'm cold."
"Should I turn off the air conditioning? Or do you want another blanket?"
"That's not it. I've been telling you — I want you close."
The repeated words. Her voice sounded less like stubbornness and more like a child unable to hide their fear. She had a high fever, she'd come alone to a strange place, her head hurt and her body hurt. Of course she did. These were not the kinds of words the usual Stay Gold would ever say aloud.
"……"
I looked up at the ceiling. Sharing a bed with a minor. At a grown woman's apartment, at that. Trainer and student. Teacher and pupil. Adult and young person. Youth protection ordinance violations. Penal Code Article 224—
A few seconds of deliberation. A few tens of seconds. A few minutes.
Then a thorough sigh.
"…Alright. Though we're sleeping — just sleeping, that's all."
"Mm."
"Don't tell anyone."
"Mm."
"And you have to take the medicine."
"……"
"Take it."
"……Fine."
"Good."
When I pressed her on it, Stay Gold's shoulders sagged in surrender. I handed her the carrot jelly. She had been complaining so much just moments before — and now she took the cup with remarkable docility and started slurping it down with gusto. You were hungry this whole time! I thought, exasperated — but I stroked her sweaty dark bay hair with one hand and held out the tablet with the other.
Stay Gold took the antipyretic and washed it down with water. For a moment she flinched at the sensation of something solid going down her throat, but she didn't complain.
"Took it."
"Good girl."
"Don't treat me like a child."
"I'm not."
"Sure you're not."
She said that, but there was no real annoyance in it. She actually seemed somewhat settled, her ears twitching contentedly. Now that the medicine was down, whatever tension had been holding her together seemed to dissolve, and her eyelids were growing visibly heavy.
"Sleepy…"
"Good night. I'll be right here even after you fall asleep."
"Mm…"
She reached out a hand, and I took it firmly. That seemed to satisfy her at last — she let out a small breath and closed her eyes. Within a few minutes, the sound of slow, steady breathing began.
I watched her for a moment, and smiled to myself. For someone who hates worrying others, she shows some awfully tender, helpless sides of herself. Like a child — she's sweet, I thought, even as I knew it was a rude thing to think. To honor her request, I quietly switched off the light. And so that she might feel safe even if she was traveling through lonely dreams — I wrapped my arms around her, as warm as a hand warmer, and held the furnace heat of her close to my chest.
Please get well soon, I wished.