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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"Representative Battle?"
He gave a calm nod, gently humming in approval as he lowered his head to sip on some tea.
"That is right. I would like you to be one of my representatives."
::
A few days had passed since Ryota came back to Japan, and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was the fact that his house had turned much calmer since Chikusa and Ken's departure.
Waking up to the sound of his alarm clock, the green head silently stretched himself, not forgetting to turn it off, lest he becomes deaf from the shrilling cries of electronic.
Roughly he carded his hand through his messy bed hair, gently combing them into something more presentable as a small yawn escaped his lips. Done, his hand casually slid down to his nape, carefully rubbing his orned earlobe before he pushed the blanket off of his lap.
His long legs easily reached the flooring. The cool feeling against the sole of his feet sent a shiver down his spine, further awakening his numb mind.
A light knock at his door extirped him from his momentary daze before it slid open. Ryota didn't bother to look up, already knowing who the intruder was. Ever since coming back to Namimori, Shura had settled down in his house, in Ken and Chikusa's old room.
Ryota didn't know why, but the pink-haired hitman had made it his duty to take care of every one of his needs. It was a bit troubling at first, almost embarrassing to have someone follow you everywhere you went, waiting for a tell to know what you wanted. Even Ryota who was used to rapt attention from his fans couldn't adapt instantly, it was then that he understood what Nijimura meant by "sacred existence" in the future.
"Good morning Shura," he greeted, his voice slightly hoarse and raspy from the night. His golden eyes swept over the room, minutely stoping on the mirror as he took his face in before resting on the mute teen.
Shura beamed, no trace of sleepiness on his face. His hands moved with practiced ease in greeting as he gave the green a firm nod of his head. Once again Ryota had to wonder where he found all his energy every morning, the hitman was so hyped it was disconcerting.
From his peripheral vision, Ryota watched as the pink-haired teen pulled out his school uniform before carefully settling in next to him on his bed. "Thanks," he breathed, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment as the foreign teen took out a pair of underwear from one of his drawers.
