"Uuuu… ghhh…! Hhh…!"
As Rotsard opened the restroom's door, someone occupying one of the stalls did their best to stop crying, but, despite their best efforts, a few sobs escaped them anyway.
"..."
Rotsard could stop himself from sighing loudly, although he couldn't help but roll his eyes and shake his head. The only reason he was putting so much effort into controlling himself was the lingering smell of blood coming from the occupied stall.
So the bleached-blond-haired boy looked around briefly, spotted a sign with Out of Order written on it, and placed it in front of the toilet's door before closing the door and approaching the occupied stand.
At least this time, the future hero chose one with a working lock.
*tap*
"Hhh…!"
Rotsard leaned against the stall's door, and the movement and quiet sound it made caused the person inside to whimper in shock.
"Relax pe… commoner, it's me."
"R-Rotsard…!?"
Rotsard let out a sigh, and, in response, the pitch of the whimper from inside the stall turned even higher.
"Yeah. Nobody will bother you, so… relax and take your time or whatever."
"..."
Rotsard rolled his eyes AGAIN, although this time he sounded slightly troubled over bothering the future hero, who turned silent.
"...I… I thought that you hate me…"
The future hero muttered, the guilt in his voice eased some of the harshest of Rotsard's feelings.
"I do. But it's for the best."
:...eh…? Wh-what do you mean…?"
Rotsard took a deep breath and nodded, causing Justin to gasp in confusion.
"The people who like me, the ones who I like and care for, or even start to care about, at least… they tend to die. My affection seems to be more of a curse than anything else."
"...!"
The bleached-blond-haired boy confessed, and the future hero inside the stall flinched, holding breath, too shocked to say anything back.
It certainly wasn't a good time or place for that kind of talk, though.
"I might have been too harsh with you… You kept clenching your stomach through every exercise... It must be bothering you a lot."
Rotsard locked eyes with his own reflection and changed the subject with an awkward expression.
"...i… it does… u… uuuuu… Hhhh!"
"..."
Justin's voice faltered, and he broke into a pitiful cry while Rotsard's expression darkened as he glared at himself in the mirror.
"You… you did a good job. Pushing through and taking second place despite your… disposition."
"...uuuu…u…hhh…! Uugh… E-eh…?"
Rotsard said awkwardly, turning away from his reflection, causing the future hero in the stall to get confused enough to stop crying, only to release a shocked voice.
"I wasn't lying when I said that you have the greatest potential that I've seen. And… oh, just don't take it as a permission to slack off, but… anyway… fighting despite pain and injuries might turn out to be something absolutely indispensable to you in the future, so even though it's hard, you should keep pushing through."
"..."
Rotsard said before briefly going off topic, only to shake his head and point out, all while the future hero cautiously listened to him.
"It's not something that you should accept as normal, but definitely something that you should learn to endure."
"...y-yea… I… I know…"
He added after a moment of hesitation, and the future hero weakly agreed from behind the stall's door.
"Have you considered trying to do something to help you with… your predicament…?"
"...eh…?"
Rotsard tilted his head, looking to the side, and asked, causing a sudden high-pitched whimper out of Justin's mouth.
"You know… making it stop… for a while…or at least for the…?"
"EH!? EEEHHH!? Wh-wh-wh-what are you s-su-suggesting!?"
The bleached-blond-haired boy asked hesitantly, but got interrupted by a panicked call of the future hero thrashing inside a stall as if it was difficult to remain seated because of Rotsard's words.
"We still have the practical magic exam in the afternoon. It would be for the best if you could perform at the top of your ability. Did you consider going to the hospital wing and asking them to at least ease your pain a little?"
"...a… Th-that's why you meant by saying for a while-… ehehe… of… of course that's what you meant..."
At Rotsard's explanation, Justin's reaction was a rather peculiar one. At first, a stunned realisation, then a disappointed murmur, finally followed by a self-deprecating laugh and whimper of embarrassment, coupled with the rustling sound that made it seem as if the future hero tried to curl into a fetal position to hide and deal with the shame.
"..."
Rotsard furrowed and turned around just to stare at the stall's door, taken aback by the reaction he got.
To get out of continuing the awkward talk, the bleached-blond-haired boy turned on the water in the faucets to give the future hero some more privacy, or at least a peace of mind.
It also gave Rotsard time to consider his options.
A couple of minutes later, the sound of flushing announced that Justin was done…
…only for another minute or so passing and another flush resounding through the restroom…
"..."
Rotsard, who just turned off the faucets, looked over his shoulder, giving Justin's stall's door a judgemental look, but he himself stayed silent, instead approaching the door and waiting in front of it.
"Th-thank you for…"
Then, the door opened, and a timid Justin peeked shyly from inside…
*thump*
"Pull up your shirt."
Only for Rotsard to open the door with force and step inside, pushing the shocked future hero further back.
"...e-eh…? Eh?"
"Pull up your shirt."
As Justin cowered, clinging his stomach with both hands and looking up at the calm Rotsard, the bleached-blond-haired boy repeated himself while placing a rolled-up towel over his shoulder.
"....o… okay…"
After a moment of silence, Justin's face turned completely red, and he let out a pitiful whimper before grabbing his shirt and pulling it up enough for his entire stomach and most of his ribcage to be shown.
There was no mistake. The future hero was trembling but seemed to accept his fate like a cutem fluffy lamb cornered by a starved wolf.
"...nhn…!"
When Rotsard's hand touched Justin's stomach, the future hero let out a soft, troubled voice as if he himself could not quite decide what he felt.