Chapter 35: A Hand Reaching Through Glass
The city stretched between them like an unspoken challenge.
Ryo shouldn't have been here.
It wasn't her world, wasn't her space. The streets were too narrow, the air too thick with oil and smoke, and the voices too loud, overlapping in a chaotic symphony. It smelled of rain-soaked asphalt and desperation. The buildings leaned too close together, their exteriors scarred by time and neglect.
Yet, she was here anyway.
She found him in a half-lit corner outside a small convenience store. His back was against the wall, hood pulled up, a cigarette twirling between his fingers. Unlit. Just like before.
Ryuga saw her first but didn't acknowledge her, eyes tracing the cracks in the pavement as if they held more importance than her presence.
"You following me now?" His voice was rough, uninterested.
Ryo hesitated. She hadn't planned this far ahead. "I was just passing through."
He huffed. "Right. Because people like you always just 'pass through' places like this."
Her jaw tightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He flicked the cigarette between his fingers. "Means I don't buy it."
She had spent her entire life being taken seriously. No one dismissed a Yamamichi. No one spoke to her like this. But he did, and it unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
She crossed her arms. "You don't have to be such an ass."
"You don't have to be here."
Silence stretched between them, punctuated by the occasional passing car. Ryo glanced at the dimly lit store behind him, shelves lined with instant noodles and canned coffee. A far cry from the pristine gourmet aisles she was used to.
"What's the cigarette for?" she asked, changing the subject.
He twirled it between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. "Something to hold onto."
Ryo frowned. "That's a terrible answer."
He smirked, the faintest hint of amusement in his otherwise guarded expression. "It's the only one you're getting."
She sighed, leaning against the wall beside him, just close enough to feel the space between them crackle with something she didn't understand yet. "Do you ever think about leaving?"
"Leaving what?"
"This place. Your life."
He snorted. "And go where? Roward Academy? Sit in a glass tower and pretend I belong?"
"You could try."
He turned to her then, fully, his sharp eyes catching hers.
"You don't get it, do you?"
She stiffened. "Get what?"
"There is no 'out' for people like me. There's just different kinds of cages. Yours is gold, mine's rusted, but in the end, we're both trapped."
Ryo frowned. "I'm not trapped."
His gaze flickered with something close to pity. "Keep telling yourself that."
She didn't like this. Didn't like how easily he unraveled the illusion she had wrapped around herself. Because he was right. Her life wasn't freedom-it was expectation wrapped in silk and etiquette.
"Why do you even care?" she challenged, pushing back..
"I don't," he said simply. "But you do."
She wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him he was wrong. Instead, she asked, "What if I said I wanted to understand?"
Ryo tilted her head, watching the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. "Why?"
Ryuga scoffed, kicking at a loose rock on the pavement. "Because people like you don't want real freedom. You want the idea of it. The kind that looks good on paper but never messes up your pretty little life."
Her brows furrowed. "That's not-"
He cut her off. "Tell me something, Yamamichi. What does 'freedom' even mean to you?"
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She knew what she was supposed to say the kind of answer that sounded intelligent, that echoed all the things she'd been taught. But standing here, under flickering streetlights, facing a boy who had nothing but the weight of survival on his shoulders, those words felt hollow.
Ryuga smirked at her silence. "Thought so."
Irritation flared in her chest. "And what does it mean to you, then?"
He let out a short laugh, one with no real humor.
"Freedom means never having to ask someone else for permission to live." He took a step closer, his eyes sharp. "It means not being owned-by money, by a name, by expectations. It means breathing without feeling like you owe the air back."
Ryo swallowed. There was something raw in his words, something that made her chest tighten. "You think I don't get that?" she asked, softer this time.
Ryuga studied her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether she was worth answering. Then he shrugged. "I think you want to."
She hated that response. Hated that it wasn't an accusation, but an observation.
"I don't get you," she admitted, crossing her arms. "You talk like you've already given up."
His jaw twitched, but his smirk stayed. "Nah. If I gave up, I wouldn't be here."
For the first time that night, she didn't have a retort.
A car rumbled past in the distance, its headlights casting long shadows between them. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, but weighted.
Then Ryuga spoke again, voice quieter. "People like us don't meet by accident, you know."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled out an unlit cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. "Maybe you'll figure it out," he murmured before tucking it back into his pocket.
And just like that, the conversation was over.
Ryo watched as he turned, walking off into the night like he had never been there to begin with.