It was frighteningly quiet in the Sekiguchi household. Granted, it was always pretty quiet, but this was significantly more deliberate. Keiji's room was lit only by thin slits of sunlight through the window, as he refused to open the blinds or turn on the light. It was hard to read or study that way, but he was willing to admit that he was moping. He'd been moping for a few days. His parents didn't come in and he hadn't expected them to– in part because he generally preferred to be alone when he was in this low spirits, and in part because he'd been a disappointment. Haruto kept texting to check up on him; Keiji had wanted to ignore the messages but wasn't dumb enough to break his promise not to ghost, so he'd instead lied and said that the reason he was out of school was because he was sick.

Due to this, though, Bisque didn't have the context to know that his happy-go-lucky nature was not going to make him feel any better. He'd been sending pictures of a collaborative line of ceramics that he was making with his mentor for a fair. And they were fucking awesome, and that was infuriating.

He wanted to keep playing that RPG. It would feel good to do some more quest chains.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," he muttered to himself. Frantically, he turned the light on and went fishing for new facts. Time passed in a blur of flashcards and colored pens and suddenly the amount of flashcards in his Leitner box had nearly tripled and he now had to study these rigorously over the course of several days and it felt so good, it felt so right to finally be getting back on track. A strange euphoria was bursting out of his chest. The part of him that had accepted Haruto's impact on him cautioned against burnout and recognized this all as self-sabotaging. But he was MAD at that part of him right now, so he gleefully ignored it. When his parents left to do something, it felt even better. Because look at his amazing self-discipline, toiling away without anyone to even know he was doing it! That's real ambition.

Then, what do you fuckin' know, Haruto called. Keiji picked up swiftly. "It's the goddamn man of the hour! What do you want?" Emboldened by being alone in the house, he nearly shouted the words.

"Uhh... to come to your house and give you any homework you need to catch up on? I figured tomorrow I could go talk to all your teachers or whatever, but I don't know where your house is."

"Don't even think about coming over here! Besides, do you think I'm an amateur? I've been emailing them and staying on top of that shit."

"Oh wait, I can just ask Mom, she drove you home."

"Did you even hear me, dipshit?" Keiji drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently.

"Huh? Uh, yeah, sorry. Took me a second. Are you okay?"

"Peachy. Better than I've been in a while, actually."

"Are you... like, drunk or something?"

"Nah. I'd honestly probably be friendlier drunk. Not that I've tested it."

"Are you one of those people with a weird personality when you're sick?"

"Y'know, you're a bad influence on me."

Haruto broke out in laughter, refusing to pull his face away from the receiver. "Are you fucking for real right now?"

"Do you KNOW how productive I am right now? I made like 150 flashcards in the past like three and a half hours! I'm learning so much shit and this phone call is wasting my time!"

"WHAT THE HELL DID I EVEN DO, YOU FUCK?!"

Keiji nearly dropped the phone in an effort to plug his own ears. He trembled a little. He tried to force the words out. He wanted to apologize again, but instead what exploded out of him was more screaming. "YOU'RE SUCH A DISTRACTION! I'VE SPENT SO MUCH TIME BABYSITTING YOU THAT IT'S BECOMING A PROBLEM!"

"I'M NOT A BABY!" The sobs were evident. Keiji's trembling turned into flat-out quaking. "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"N-No, it's fine, Mom, it's nothing, it's just–!"

Haruto hung up abruptly, and Keiji clapped a hand over his own mouth. If Himari found out that he was the reason Bisque was crying–! He was never going to be welcome there again! And that should've been okay, why did the idea of that hurt him so damn much? He slipped out of his chair and curled into a ball, forehead pressed to the ground. It was never even about Bisque, why did he turn it into his problem?!

He stood up to rip the note cards but thought better of it at the last second. Instead, he pulled out one of the stupid packs of melon bread and threw it onto the ground. The plastic packaging gave a satisfying pop under his heel, and the whole thing was mashed beyond recognition as he dug into it. Luckily, the plastic kept any from getting on his carpet or on his bare feet, so he was able to really eviscerate that thing without consequences. And he knew this was infantile and ridiculous, but to be fair, that could be said of literally any and all of his actions in the last forty-eight hours. Why stop now, right?

Eventually, he pulled himself together. He tried to get back to focusing on what he was trying to learn, but his attention was completely scattered at this point. It was hopeless. The phone rang again, and he snatched it up with tense hands. "Hello?!"

"Do you have exercise clothes?"

Keiji couldn't help but give a breath at the absurdity of the question. "Just my gym uniform."

"Eh, that's fine. Mom says you have to go on a run with us."

"Excuse me?" How had that led to this?

"Don't question it. We'll come pick you up. There's a cool hill we like going on."

"Why do you even want to see me right now?! I don't understand!"

"Cause we're worried. You butthead." Even with the name calling, Keiji could hear the affection in Bisque's tone. That felt unfair.

"Okay..."

"See ya soon!" The sing songy departure felt so contrary to Keiji's own feelings. He got into suitable clothes and shoes and then wrote a note telling his parents that he needed some fresh air to clear his head, but that he'd studied thoroughly and was not slacking.

That was about as much time as it took for the Gimas to reach him, astonishingly. Himari rolled down her car's window. "Hi, Keiji, sweetie!"

"H-Hello, Mrs. Gima. Hello, Mr. Gima. Hi, Bisque," his voice was small and ashamed. He looked anywhere other than her face.

Haruto opened the door on the opposite side to where he was sitting. "Well? C'mon!" He slunk into the car.

The sun was beginning to set, but the hill would be well-lit enough for another hour. It was sandy and a little bit steeper than Keiji expected, but that was just fine.

Arata led some stretches. It felt nice, considering Keiji had been unusually sedentary for the last few days. His muscles thanked him by loosening up.

"Race ya to the top!" Haruto dared as soon as Arata concluded.

"You're gonna win," Keiji pointed out.

"Do it anyway!" They lined up at the bottom of the hill and, sure enough, Haruto won with very little effort. "Again!" So they went back down and did it again. This continued for a few more cycles, kicking up clouds of sand behind them, until Bisque's own speed started to dent at his stamina, at which point Keiji started tying him. They were both breathing hard by the end of it, and Himari, who had been walking up and down the hill backwards with Arata, gave them both water bottles.

"Excellent work, boys! Feels nice, right? Even though it's tiring, and even a little painful, exercise always boosts my mood."

"Your endurance is quite impressive. Especially since you're under the weather," Arata noted with curiosity.

"I'm not really sick," Keiji murmured guiltily, "That was just my excuse for cooping myself up in my room. I become a hermit for a while when I fail, and I didn't want to talk about it when Haruto asked why I was skipping school, so I lied."

Himari tried to run a hand through Keiji's hair, but he scooted out of the way with an apologetic expression. She was undeterred. "Honey, if you keep working at such a feverish pace and don't make time for other things, you'll wind up making even more mistakes. What happened to stress you out so much?"

He went from sitting sprawled out to sitting with his knees pressed to his chest. "I... I went on another quiz show a few days ago, and I got totally annihilated. I've never been more off my game in my life. Even questions that I should've known like the back of my hand were a struggle. It was like my brain was in slow motion while everyone else was at their peak. It was the most claustrophobic feeling I've ever had. I wanted to just run off that set, but I couldn't risk my long-term prospects like that. No matter how they edit it, I'm gonna look like a complete and utter idiot to anyone who watches. And they record these things months in advance, so I'm going to have this hanging over my head for a quarter of a year, waiting for everyone at school to see me make a fool of myself."

The sun was setting golden-orange, bathing the whole area in such cheery color. Bisque rested his head on Keiji's shoulder, which made him gasp a little. "I think I would literally burst into tears on camera. That's so scary! No wonder you're such a mess right now."

"Bisque," Arata warned.

Keiji wanted to be offended by that last comment but didn't have it in him. "It's my dream to break a world record, so I've been going for 'most quiz show appearances.' I guess it hadn't occurred to me that flubbing a few was even a possibility. I got arrogant. And I didn't want it to be my fault, so I put the onus on you for keeping me away from my studies. But it's all up to my own choices. So," he swallowed thickly, wiping sweat off his forehead, "I'm sorry. Again. I shouldn't have lashed out at you."

Haruto scratched at his exercise shorts, scrunching up the fabric between his fingers. Himari wrapped her arm around him, and he leaned into her touch. "I can... um, I can invite you over less. I know I'm pretty pushy. And clingy."

His answer was immediate. "I don't want that." He stunned himself with his own automatic words. Because that meant he wanted something else, something that would make his performance suffer. He stood up. "R-Race ya! All of you! Let's go to the starting line!"

They exercised until one of Haruto's legs swiveled out from under him and he scraped the hell out of his knee with sand. Keiji watched as Himari cleaned off and dressed his leg, seeing the compassion welling up in her eyes. Arata was devotedly assuring she had all the supplies she needed. Keiji wouldn't have been surprised if Arata was the one to remember a first aid kit in the first place, even in all the hurry.

Keiji tried to remember any childhood injuries he'd had, wondering what his parents' response was. But for all the thousands of facts and stories Keiji remembered, this time he found himself woefully unable to recall a thing.