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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In his bed, eyes closed, Mikaël's thoughts drifted to the scene he had witnessed earlier in the day. It felt so unreal, unimaginable to him who had peacefully lived his whole life, yet it was real.
Someone brandishing a sword was attacking a teen in the middle of the streets without a care in the world. Compared to this, Ken and Chikusa's state seemed natural, while Mukuro's prison life not so surprising.
Rushing to the scene, as promised to Fuuta, Ryota soon reached the group of teens. His breathing was slightly ragged from running, though it wasn't uncomfortable as he was used to such efforts.
His golden eyes quickly scanned the group, counting to see whether one of the boys was missing before he silently took in the situation. Well, what remained of it.
His eyes flickered to the dissipating cloud of smoke, revealing a beat-up teen, probably around Takeshi's age he deduced. The boy was bleeding and wore a strange hair ornament. Or was it one? He didn't know, and frankly speaking, he had no time to guess.
Next, he looked up to see who the noisy man was. He couldn't see his face, but the peculiar long silver hair, added to the loud voice and attire, which seemed like a uniform, was enough for the green to memorize him.
He stood a few feet behind the teens, perhaps was it the reason they had yet to see him? Reborn greeted him first, dipping his head in his direction. Ryota could only dumbly nod, unsure and too preoccupied to care about why a baby would be here.
In the meantime, the unknown boy had been thrown aside, resulting in one of Mikaël's underclassman grabbing him. Tsunayoshi was it? At the same time, Takeshi took a sword out from who knows where, leaving the other student, the transfer student from Italy if his memory served him right, to take out some— Wait, was that dynamite?
Ryota stood frozen in his spot, unable to process the sudden surge of information. It was all too much. To begin with, a terrorist attack of some sort, which involved a silver-haired-weirdo and a feeble-looking yet not so weak teenager.
Then, while one was on the verge of death, three of his underclassmen rushed in, as if it was perfectly normal. One took out a sword, and he wasn't even part of the Kendo club! What was he doing with it! And the second one casually brought some dynamites from his uniform.
