Well, it's later than I wanted it to be, but technically it's still earlier than I typically update!
This one took a while to get done, but I'm finally happy with it. Writing roller coasters is hard, and as a lot of you have guessed, there's a lot of it in this chapter.
This chapter ticks in at just under 7k words, bringing the total up to nearly 70k. I've never written anything this involved before in my life!
As always, comments and questions are appreciated and will be answered 
The art for this chapter is from tediusman. You may have already seen it, but there was a slight tweak to it! 
I usually try to find a piece of music that fits the chapter, even if I don't name it after the piece. The one I listened to heavily is Lamentations Of The Heart by Philip Wesley.
Act 2: Countdown
Scene 7: Ask Me No Questions
I've made my share of regretful decisions in my life, but I'm having a hard time thinking of anything in recent memory that tops the one I made yesterday.
My head still reels from the jargon and all its implications. I don't remember exactly what time I left the library yesterday, but the sun was low enough in the sky to cast some very long shadows on my way back to my dorm.
There will never be a time in my life again where I won't know what I learned yesterday.
I learned about spinocerebellar ataxia yesterday.
Spinocerebellar ataxia, commonly abbreviated as SCA, is a progressive, degenerative, genetic disease with multiple types.
I learned about its multiple types. About how there were over a dozen different known types, some well documented, some only having a handful of cases.
Spinocerebellar ataxia is a hereditary and often fatal neurodegenerative disorder.
I learned about the symptoms. From balance problems, to twitching eyes and limbs, to losing coordination and strength, to body tremors, and other things that can get progressively worse.
There is no known effective treatment or cure.
I learned about different prognoses. I learned about the time clock each sufferer faces. I learned at what years they could expect to see their bodies break down, and in what order it would happen. I learned if they could expect the clock to stop at a certain point, or continue to its inevitable conclusion.
Spinocerebellar ataxia can affect anyone of any age.
Oh yeah. I learned, alright.
And most important of all, I learned that yesterday I made a huge mistake.
The worst thing about it all? It was all fruitless because I don't even know what type of ataxia Saki has.
Because of this, it's been impossible to keep from jumping to conclusions. I've been replaying everything Saki's said and done the last few weeks, along with what others have been saying about her, trying to find mental reassurance that the ataxia she has is one of the ones that isn't that bad. She can play the violin after all, and she's in the art club, so she can't have one that's serious, right?
I'm back in the library, during our lunch hour. I managed to trudge through another day of morning classes, and working with Maeda and the dynamic duo. Shizune seemed annoyed at first that my portion of the answer packet was woefully lacking, but a silent conversation with Misha combined with the facial expression I must have been wearing this morning quickly dismissed any thoughts of her chiding me.
At any rate, we managed to get some more work done on the project, with Shizune stepping in to take up my rather obvious slack. I simply told them I wasn't feeling too well, and that the new medication I was on must have been messing with my sleep schedule. It wasn't entirely a lie. Maeda seemed indifferent and bored like he always does, and the two girls didn't pry any further.
Nobody mentioned Saki.
The rest of the morning classes went rather smoothly. I learned to coast on autopilot quite early in my academic career, and while I normally use that skill to cover me while I daydream or think about more interesting things, I find it very useful for when there's heavier things on my mind.
So here I sit again, staring at the same packet, the same book in front of me. It's almost enough to make me wish I had simply dozed off here at this desk and the last twenty four hours was just a bad dream.
I'm interrupted in my thoughts by a voice I recognize.
“There you are.”
I look up and see a girl with short, dark hair walking towards me, concern in her green eyes.
Chisato.
“Hey,” I wave, trying to put on a smile. I haven't seen her or Noriko the last two days either, not since the night we went to the city. I wait until she's a little closer to the table I'm at before speaking again, out of respect to the other people in the room. “What's up?”
“We hadn't seen you in a few days,” she starts, pulling out a chair and turning it backwards. In one smooth motion, she straddles it and crosses her arms to rest on the back. I'm shocked for a second at what a, well, unladylike gesture it is, but Chisato doesn't seem to notice or care at all.
“Yeah, um, sorry. Class has been busy the last two days. We've been working on a group project,” I offer up lamely.
“So that's why you've been skipping lunch with the two of us, huh?” Chisato teases, her trademark twinkle in her eye. “It's alright. We've been kind of exhausted after, you know.”
“How is she?” I ask before I can stop myself. I hadn't received any texts from Saki since the ones two nights ago, and Chisato's disarming demeanor is making me forget that it's pretty rude to talk about someone when they're not there in your presence.
“She's okay, for the most part,” Chisato answers, a little bit of light fading from her cheery expression. “More ego than anything, I think.”
I nod. I think about asking her about the strange interaction the two of them had that night, with Saki on the ground and Chisato helping her, but I think better of it. I know that would be out of line, and I already did enough of that yesterday.
“That's good.”
“That reminds me,” she says, back to normal. “Can you do me a favor? I had to run back to class to get something I left, so Saki's down in the cafeteria...do you want to go see her? I don't know if I'll be able to make it back before the break ends, so I can't wheel her to her next class...”
That sounds equally lame to what I said earlier, and flimsy to boot. But there's something in the way Chisato says it that makes me pause.
“She'd probably be really happy to see you,” she continues, a bit softer, the unspoken subtext painfully clear, even to an obtuse idiot like me.
“Alright. I'm hungry anyway.”
Chisato smiles and bounds up, easily flipping the chair back to its normal position. “Good! Glad that's settled.”
“Chisato,” I ask, my eyes narrowing, “were you actually looking for me?”
“Who, me? Of course not,” she says. “I just stuck my head in the door passing by and you happened to be here, that's all.”
“I thought your class was down the hall, by the elevators. Your class isn't even in this part of the building.”
Chisato shrugs, refusing to admit anything. “Scenic route.”
I round the corner into the cafeteria, nimbly dodging a few students on their way out. A quick glance around doesn't reveal anything, except that the stockpile of pre-made items available for selection seems to have been raided pretty thoroughly. Great.
Another, more attentive look around this time. I scan the back of student's heads, not immediately seeing Saki. It's not until I realize there's only about a half dozen tables that a wheelchair could be parked in front of that I finally see her. Her back's to me, so while I can see a tray of food in front of her, I don't see what's on it.
Seeing her in a wheelchair, even from a distance, sparks a flash of pity in me. Not because I feel sorry for her, but because even from here I can see from her body language that she's not feeling well.
Maybe there was something to what her friend said and seeing me will cheer her up. After yesterday, it will be good to see her, even with my self imposed circumstances.
I take the long way around, grabbing an apple out of a bin. Contrary to what I told Chisato, I'm not actually hungry, but I should be eating something anyway.
“Hey Saki,” I offer by way of greeting when I get close to her. She looks up from her food, startled for a second.
“Hisao! How are you?” she says, making my heart skip a beat with the radiance of the smile she flashes me. I instantly know that Chisato was right.
“Not too bad,” I say, taking a seat next to her. I look casually in her direction, taking in as much as I can in the short second. She's seated quite comfortably in a school wheelchair, a small bookbag hanging off one of the back handles. A large bandage wraps around her right knee, making me wince internally when I see it. I don't see her cane anywhere on her though, so she must not be walking at all yet. I can't see if she's wearing something on her ankle, and I don't think it would be wise to sneak another peek.
“How about yourself?” I ask, a bit more somber.
“Oh this?” she says, gesturing down her body. “I've been through worse. Nurse even made sure I got the new chair with the padded seat. Nothing some prescription painkillers can't take care of. Where's Chisato?”
“She found me in the library, and said she was on her way to her class to get something.”
Saki nods before picking up her sandwich from her otherwise empty plate. “Glad she did. I didn't see you this morning at the pool...” she says, before taking a bite.
“You went to the pool?” I ask, incredulously. “But, you can't swim like that, can you?”
(continued...)
That was a last minute decision. I had Star Trek TNG episodes playing in the background for some of the time I was writing this, and I remembered how it always cracked me up whenever Riker did something similar almost every time he sat down. It was something so small and simple but told you so much about his character. I thought it would be something Chisato would do too 