PSEUMINO, VENTO AUREO.

✦.⁺ discharge.

═ ☆. FINALLY BEING ABLE TO LEAVE your hospital room felt like a victory. You were utterly sick of it—the bland walls, the little television in the corner, the rolling tray of medicine.

And the beeping. Sometimes you forgot about it. Other times, it was all you could hear.

You wouldn't be discharged for another few days at least, but you could go to the visiting room now. It felt good to move your legs, to have a sense of purpose after listless weeks.

Although you hadn't always been awake, you were aware that the elites had visited you practically everyday. They left little gifts in your room and stayed until a nurse reminded them that visiting hours were drawing to a close. Their energy had been infectious, brightening your drab room. You were sure your stay would've seemed longer without them. Without your noticing, the elites had become your friends, visiting because they wanted to and not for appearances or reputation.

Well, three of the elites had, at any rate. You hadn't seen the fourth member since the fundraiser.

Fugo was waiting for you outside your room. He hadn't been discharged yet, either—a fact that you were secretly glad about, terrible as it was. He kept you company, on days when the two of you felt well enough.

He wasn't quite his usual self yet. He looked drawn and pale, the hair on one side of his head matted from lying on it. His arms and chest were covered in bandages, which Fugo assured you looked worse than they were. There were shadows under his bloodshot eyes. Fugo was lucky to be alive, he'd told you. Without Gold Experience, there was no chance he would've.

He smiled when he saw you. You reached out, trying to smooth his dark blonde hair.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, leaning into your hand a little.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss my dorm back at Sapiena," you said.

"Me too. I'll never complain about my neighbour's bed creaking again."

You laughed.

"Your friends are waiting for you on the third floor," said a nurse, leading you to the elevator.

The visiting room was bright and spacious, filled with families chatting on bright blue furniture sets and children running about. The smell of disinfectant was fainter in here, and you could almost forget you were in a hospital.

Trish's pink hair was easy to pick out. She was frowning at Mista, who was waving his arms around like a lunatic. He smacked Narancia, who looked confused, but then nodded eagerly. Risotto looked faintly uncomfortable with the conversation, pursing his lips when Mista gestured at him. Meanwhile, Bruno was off to the side, chatting with an orderly.

"—and that's why humans would taste like shit."

"But it doesn't make sense. Diet doesn't have anything to do with how something tastes."

"Chickens—eat plants. Cows—eat plants. Pigs ... eat plants. It adds up that plant-eaters taste good and meat-eaters taste bad."

"Have you ever eaten a meat-eater?"

"No, because they taste bad."

"But humans are omnivores."

"Most of them. I'm a vegetarian."

Trish gaped at Narancia. "No. How did I not know that?"

Narancia shrugged. "It never came up."

"I read somewhere that humans taste a lot like veal," Risotto said.

"What is that, deer?"

"It's beef, dumbass."

"Then why not call it that? That doesn't matter anyway. I'm saying that humans would taste bad because we're not primary plant eaters. That's it."