The decision is announced, and the tension finally drains from the row like air from a punctured tire. Okabe stretches, arms over his head, then turns with a grin.
"So, Coach. Fight's done. You heading home now?"
Ryohei leans in, mock-serious. "Yeah. You didn't come for Shimamura's fight, remember?"
Nakahara clicks his tongue. "I'm staying."
"Oh?" Okabe raises a brow.
"Kenta's driving," Nakahara says flatly. "I need to make sure the van gets back to my place safely."
The silence lasts half a second. Then they laugh.
"That's the excuse?" Okabe says.
"Very responsible," Ryohei adds. "A true guardian of public transportation."
Nakahara ignores them, arms crossed tightly over his chest. A vein throbs faintly at his temple, betraying how much effort it takes to keep his expression unmoved.
Aki suddenly frowns. "Wait. Where's Kenta?"
"He said he was going to the bathroom,"Aramaki says.
Okabe scoffs. "He's been gone a while."
