Ryo doesn't wait for an explanation. The second his eyes land on Kyou Ren—weak, unconscious, carried like some wounded prince—something in him snaps. He scoffs loud enough for the entire field to hear and turns on his heel without another word.
Yua reaches out instinctively. "Ryo, wait—!"
Ryo doesn't even glance back. His retreating form is rigid, shoulders taut with unspoken fury. Yua's outstretched hand hangs in the air for a second before dropping limply to her side.
Sora whistles lowly from the sidelines, breaking the tense silence with his usual lack of tact:
"Damn. Did not expect that level of drama."
Haru elbows him hard in the ribs (silence is golden).
Kurobe exhales through his nose—half-annoyed, half-resigned—and adjusts his sunglasses before turning to Tenjo. "...You brought trouble." It's not a question; it's an accusation wrapped in gravel and exhaustion (because when does Tenjo ever bring anything else?).
Tenjo meets his eyes squarely, unapologetic. "Trouble tends to stalk me." A beat of silence—then he adds dryly: "Besides, Yua insisted."
Kurobe snorts. "Of course, she did."
Tenjo smirks thinly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a familiar amusement. "You underestimate her stubbornness."
Kurobe gives him a dry snort of agreement. "Only as much as I overestimate your common sense."
Yua makes an indignant noise behind them, her expression caught between hurt and annoyance, but Tenjo just grins unrepentantly. "Common sense is boring."
Kurobe snorts, but there's a touch of reluctant humor in the sound. "Coming from the smartest guy in the world, that's rich."
Tenjo just shrugs, completely unruffled. "What's the point of being brilliant if I can't break a few rules?"
Kurobe rolls his eyes. "Just once—I'd like to see you choose the safe path."
Yua crosses to Kyou, concern etched on her face. She places a gentle hand over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It's a stark contrast to the tension brewing around them.
Kurobe watches her, his gaze lingering on the gesture, his expression unreadable. Tenjo leans back against a tree, arms folded, eyes half-lidded behind his sunglasses (never one for obvious displays of emotion).
Kurobe says nothing, but his eyes narrow slightly behind those ever-present sunglasses—assessing. Yua's care for Kyou is genuine, and that in itself is… interesting. He exhales through his nose.
Tenjo, meanwhile, flicks a stray leaf off his shoulder with deliberate casualness (he's noticed too; he just won't comment). Instead, he tilts his head toward the treeline. "We should move."
Yua nods silently, her hand lingering just a second longer before pulling away. The unspoken question hangs heavy in the air:
Why does she trust him so easily?
And more dangerously—
Does Kyou Ren deserve it?
Kurobe's eyebrows pull together in a slight frown as Tenjo speaks. "Are you sure that's wise?"
Tenjo just quirks an eyebrow (never surprised; only curious). "You're questioning my judgment?"
Kurobe scoffs. "Not questioning. Questioning your sanity."
Tenjo grins, unphased. "Same difference. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
Kurobe adjusts his sunglasses, voice flat but carrying an undercurrent of something dark—respect, maybe, or caution.
"She wasn't just in the stealth division. She was Ishikawa's ghost." A pause, deliberate. "And her idea of 'training' would break most hunters in half before lunch."
Tenjo hums (far too entertained for someone about to unleash a human hurricane on them). "Perfect."
Yua pales slightly (was that a joke? It had better be a joke). Sora and Haru exchange glances—this time, even though they don't have a snarky remark ready.
Only one person fits that description... The thought flickers through Yua's mind, but she quickly shoves it away. No. It couldn't be. That woman wouldn't involve herself in something like this—would she?
She shakes her head slightly, as if trying to physically dispel the idea. Whether out of denial or simple disbelief, Yua decides not to dwell on it (for now).
Instead, she focuses on Kyou's steady breathing and the way Tenjo watches them all with an unsettling mix of amusement and calculation (because when does Tenjo ever not have a plan?).
In the middle of the town of Serenia we see Ryo walking back home to his house.
The front door clicks shut behind Ryo, soft enough not to wake the house but heavy with unspoken frustration. The familiar scent of home—polished wood and fading incense—does nothing to soothe the tension coiled in his shoulders.
From the kitchen, a voice calls out without hesitation:
- "You're early."
Kujuro doesn't even look up from chopping vegetables, knife moving with practiced ease (as if he already knew).
Rumi reaches him just as he hangs his coat, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Where have you been?"
Without missing a beat, Ryo pastes on a smile (it's almost convincing). "Just some stuff for school," he says. It's a white lie, carefully crafted to shield her from the truth of his training and Kaimon.
Kujuro doesn't miss the brief exchange, his knife still moving rhythmically across the vegetables. His eyes lift long enough to meet Ryo's (still sharp despite the warmth in them), before returning to his task.
There's a quiet understanding in the moment—Kujuro knows the lie but also knows why it was told. Sometimes, protecting those you love means keeping secrets (especially dangerous ones).
Ryo gives Rumi a quick pat on the head before making his way up the stairs, a well-worn excuse already on his lips:
"I'm gonna head up and try to get some sleep," he says casually. "I've got some studying to do tomorrow."
Behind him, Kujuro hums noncommittally. If he knows the lie in the excuse, he doesn't call it out.
Back in his room, Ryo sinks onto his bed with a sigh, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The room feels eerily quiet, like all the noise of the outside world has been muffled. He should get changed, prepare for bed, do something other than stare at the ceiling—but his mind won't stop replaying today's events.
Ryo's mind whirls like a storm, each thought of a lightning strike illuminating another facet of his current situation. The star, the hunting realm, hunters, Kaimon—it's all a tangled mess in his head.
The goal he's set for himself seems almost daunting when viewed from this angle. And then there's Yua, Kyou, the rogue hunters, Kairos… too many moving parts. How does he untangle it all?
In the solitude of his room, Ryo's gaze drifts towards a framed photo on his desk. It's an old picture, a family photo taken before everything changed. His mother stands with a smile that's both warm and wise, eyes that seem to hold the secrets of the universe.
"What would you do, mom?" he whispers into the darkness, the question heavy with unspoken fears and doubts. "What would you do if you were here?"
The silence that follows is deafening. There is no answer, only the soft tick of his clock marking the passing seconds. Of course there isn't. His mother is gone, taking all her wisdom with her.
The photo seems to mock him now, a memory of happier times where his biggest worry was school and basketball practice.
Ryo exhales slowly, scrubbing a hand through his hair—the weight of expectations heavy on shoulders just too young to bear it.
Ryo burrows deeper into his blankets, pulling them up over his head. He knows it's childish, but the thought of facing the day—even one off from school—feels overwhelming.
Tomorrow can wait. For now, he'll cocoon here in the temporary comfort of solitude, letting the quiet soothe the tangled thoughts in his head… even if it's just for a few hours more.
🌀 End of Chapter Thirty Two