𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐓 ➛ ryusae

chpt 26 ➛ sae

The cab ride to the airport was quiet. Too quiet. The hum of the engine, the occasional turn signal clicking—it all blended into the background as Sae stared out the window, watching the city blur past him. His fingers fidgeted against the smooth leather seat, his breath steady, but his chest felt tight in a way he wasn't used to.

He hadn't cried. Not really. But his throat burned, his eyes stung, and when he blinked too hard, his vision blurred just a little too much. He wasn't sad—not in the way most people might think. This was his dream. This was everything he had worked for. It was exactly what he wanted. But there was something about leaving Shidou behind, something about the way he stood there, unwavering, watching him go, that made Sae feel like a piece of himself had been left behind at that curb.

By the time the cab pulled up to the airport, Sae had managed to school his expression into something neutral, something unreadable. He reached into his bag, pulling out his black sunglasses and slipping them on, shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the world. It was easier this way. If no one could see his face, then maybe no one could see the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

The moment he stepped out of the cab, everything was set into motion. He barely had time to roll his suitcase forward before a chauffeur in a crisp black suit was already taking it from him. "Welcome, Itoshi-san," the man said, bowing slightly before gesturing towards the airport entrance. "Everything has been arranged for you."

Sae gave a small nod, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. He knew he was famous—Japan's so-called prodigy—but sometimes, he forgot just how much weight that carried. He never had to stand in lines like everyone else. He never had to deal with the usual airport chaos.

He didn't need to lift a finger.

And right now, he didn't feel like he could even if he wanted to.

The chauffeur led him through a private entrance, past the usual airport crowds. There were no check-in counters, no security lines. It was all handled for him. Someone scanned his passport, someone else escorted him through customs. He barely spoke, barely acknowledged anyone. It wasn't that he was being rude—he just didn't have the energy. His body moved on autopilot, his mind stuck somewhere else.

Somewhere with Shidou.

Shidou, who had looked at him with that proud, confident smile, telling him he was going to do great things. Shidou, who had teased him, told him to call every night, told him he'd be waiting. Shidou, who had held him like he never wanted to let go.

God, Sae missed him already.

By the time he was led onto the tarmac, he saw it—the private jet. His private jet. Or rather, the one Re Al had sent for him. Even now, the surreal nature of it all hit him. This was his life. This was what he had worked for. He should be feeling excitement, a rush of adrenaline, a thrill for what was to come.

Instead, his heart ached.

He climbed the stairs, the weight of his suitcase in his grip barely registering. The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted by sleek leather seats, dim lighting, and a flight attendant who smiled and gestured for him to take a seat wherever he pleased. Sae barely acknowledged her, walking to one of the window seats and sinking into it.

The door shut.

The engines rumbled to life, a low, steady hum vibrating through the jet. Sae leaned back against the plush leather seat, his head tilting slightly as he exhaled, slow and deep. His fingers ran through his hair, pushing back strands that had fallen into his face, but it did nothing to settle the weight pressing against his chest.

No turning back now.

The flight attendant moved through the aisle with practiced grace, stopping by his seat with a polite smile. "Would you like anything, Mr. Itoshi?" she asked, her voice soft, professional.