Uramichi's Stressful Day (Uramichi Breaks Down)

Chapter 2: And He Cries

"Ah! Uramichi-kun!" Derekida crows from his chair with his bossy grin, waving his rolled up script around. "Alright, let's send the kids in!" he says, motioning to a stagehand surrounded by small children milling around like sheep. When the kids realize they can go, they happily run to Uramichi, hopping around and waving their arms.

With a big smile and practiced, cheerful disposition, Uramichi waves his hands in hello and greets the kids. "Hello, boys and girls! Are you ready to have some fun? Today we are going to start with some A.B.C. Calisthenics!" he cheers, voice strained and harsh, one eye twitching a bit over its massive eye bags.

"Yay!" the kids exclaim. A few, however, glance at one another with odd expressions, not that Uramichi notices.

He moves on with his exercises, doing as the director instructs despite every muscle in his body screaming for him to stop. He is asked to perform backflips again to make the show more interesting. He apparently didn't do the backflips well enough, though, because he had to do them again. And again. And again.

After the fifth attempt, where he spoke as he flipped, Uramichi yelps as his knees give out. He latches a quivering hand onto a wobbling leg before he can crash into the floor, pulling himself upright. He feels so bad right now. He doesn't remember the last time he felt this terrible. At least he does not have the soreness from slamming into the ground added on top of it, he thinks morosely. He squeezes his eyes closed, jaw clenched tightly.

"Um, Uramichi oniisan, are you okay?"

Uramichi's eyes snap open. He wipes the grimace from his face, but, from the kids' expressions, he did a terrible job of covering it with a smile. Rather, he still seems pained. He looks into the eyes of the boy who appeared in front of him, the one now looking at him with massive, worried brown eyes. The others swarm him, hovering with nervous energy.

"Haha," he forces a chuckle out, finally fully standing, though his legs wobble and feel like particularly overcooked noodles. "I'm fine, Asahi-kun, don't worry about your oniisan!" he sings, holding his hands up as if to prove it.

He pats his hands off, clearing his throat and looking at the cue card being held up for him. He squints as he realizes he cannot see it very well. It looks so fuzzy and almost like it is moving. He swallows, looking back at the kids—all those massive eyes staring up at him expectantly, all with something else in them he refuses to name. He doesn't want to disappoint the kids.

"Uh," he croaks, feeling lost, clearing his throat again as he realizes how terrible he sounds. His eyes wander around a bit as if that will help him find his place. "How about we—"

"Are you sick, Uramichi oniisan?"

Uramichi's eyes blow wide. "Eh?" he questions, feeling like he very well may have hallucinated the question at this point.

Uramichi's eyes snap to the little girl to his left as she pipes up, hands on her hips like she is mimicking a scolding mother, "I asked if you're sick, oniisan." Her lower lip trembles, and Uramichi is confused.

He knows he should use this as a teaching opportunity. He should squat and say, "You know, kids, grown-ups don't get many sick days. When you grow up, you have to suck it up and go to work unless you are on your deathbed, so you need to prepare yourself for getting overworked and abused by an unfair boss who doesn't care about his employees." He doesn't, though.

Instead, a question appears in his overtired, ill, cold, foggy head, and he can't help but entertain it. His large, comical smile slips from his face, leaving behind a man feeling terrifyingly fragile. "Do...do you care if I am?" he asks in a small voice that has hope peeking through its holes.