All it took was a plane crash, and Kise Ryota was no more.
Strangely enough, he didn't feel sadness, only regret. Regret for not checking his engine beforehand. Regret for missing out on his friends with his job as a pilot. Regret for not spending t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ryota rested his hands on his knees, back hunched, only the sound of his ragged breathing could be heard in the vast training room. Sweat beaded his face, slowly gliding along it until it fell to the ground in distinct droplets.
His golden eyes were hazy, clearly unfocused, and there was no strength left to furrow his brows or scrunch up his nose. He inhaled, trying to calm his breathing as he carefully stood straighter. A hand passed through his now slightly damp locks of green before he blinked.
His eyesight shifted to the shorter figure in front of him before he took another offensive stance. He swallowed his saliva, focusing his whole attention on the pink-haired boy, again.
Shura boredly stood a few meters away, a dagger, probably ten or so centimeters long in hand. He aimlessly fiddled with it, twirling it around his fingers, juggling with it. His every move was swift and deadly, showcasing his deftness and maturity in the art.
At last, he stopped, holding the arm by its blade. His blue eyes flickered to the green's figure, he scoffed, his left free hand moved, signing. 'Whenever you want.'
Ryota bit his lower lip, his hand reached for the blunt dagger given to him. After so many training sessions, he understood a few signing, not that he could hold a conversation, but it was enough for now.
He could feel his limbs tiredly holding his body up, preventing him from falling to the ground just yet. His head felt dizzy, and he knew he wouldn't hold up for a lot longer.
But to lose? Again? Against this person who kept on looking down on him? How could he accept it?
He gnashed his teeth, his ragged breathing back to normal before relaxing his shoulders. It was no use keeping them so tense. He closed his eyes, images of his past sparring experiences flashing through his mind.
His golden eyes snapped open, a haze of indigo blending with them. He bolted in the man's direction, his moves swift, unlike someone who had only begun to learn how to use a dagger.
If someone had told him he would use his skill to fight one day, he would have laughed. Ha, how times had changed.
::
"Say, Nijimura," Ryota called out from his seat on the black quilted sofa, his back hunched as he carefully went over the note the Rain Guardian had given him.
