The gym feels tighter than usual, as though the air has thickened and settled low over the mats. Every pair of eyes drifts toward the entrance as if the closed door might offer an explanation for Okabe's absence.
Hiroshi approaches Nakahara with unusual care. "Sir, maybe Okabe is just feeling unwell," he says gently. "It might not be anything serious."
Nakahara studies him for a moment, and although he does not argue, he clearly is not convinced. Moments later, his gaze shifts toward the electric bike resting near the wall, a thin layer of dust clinging to its frame from weeks of neglect.
Without another word, he walks over, grips the handlebars, and rolls it toward the shutter.
"Sir… where are you going?" Hiroshi asks, following a few steps behind.
"To Okabe's house," Nakahara replies as he pushes the bike out into the daylight. "Let's hope he is really just feeling unwell."
