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...
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"—Now, let us see what our celebrity specialists have to add on the case," the woman addressed, turning to face the petite female and strict looking male by her side.
The girl pinched her brows, further highlighting the roundness of her face as she exaggeratedly pursed her lower lip out. "I am extremely disappointed Kise-kun, to be honest," she confessed, shaking her head from one side to another. "I didn't expect him to be such a— such a beast."
The male nodded in agreement, neatly pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I must agree with Akira. I am quite disappointed in Kise's behavior. Of course, there has yet to be any conclusive evidence on the case, but seeing the direction this incident is taking, it will be hard for Kise to explain himself."
Golden eyes carefully fluttered open, revealing a pair of dazed pools of gold. Ryota frowned, blinking as to chase the sleepiness away as he blankly stared at the ceiling in front of him.
Half asleep, he slowly sat up from the bed he laid in, only the creaking sound of the slat echoed the room as he took in his surroundings. His memory was foggy. He remembered fetching Mukuro, regrouping with the Bratva, learning of his friend's whereabouts, summoning Miroir and then— he bit his lower lip. His head throbbed with pain— and then nothing.
Did they succeed? Probably, otherwise, why would he be here? Then, was he in the future, or did he go back to the present? His eyes that rested on his lap, covered with a white blanket, flickered to his side. They settled on the two boxes and a pair of rings by his side.
So he wasn't back. He felt slightly disappointed, heaving a depressed sigh, before recomposing himself. At least, they won. Otherwise, his weapon wouldn't be so near to him, he comforted.
He heard the sound of the door being unlocked before it slid open, and the pitter-patter of footsteps entered the room. He couldn't see who it was, as a thick white curtain surrounded his bed, his body tensed in anticipation. He unconsciously reached for the retractable stick usually bound to his belt, only to feel emptiness and the smooth fabric of his pajamas against his clammy palms.
The fact made him momentarily freeze, all rational thoughts were thrown out of the window, as he rashly reached for his rings and box weapons, forgetting his previous conclusions regarding his whereabouts.
