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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It was at that moment that Francis knew his brother truly was in an affair with the pink-haired stranger.
::
Beep! Beep! Beep!Attention, the first round of the Representative Battle has ended.
Ryota heaved a sigh, his hand that tightly gripped his extendable rapier stick slightly loosened its grip as he kept his eyes strained on the obnoxious white head in front of him. Around him, the few doubles scattered into clouds of indigo before fading into nothingness. His tinted irises went back to their usual gold.
He exhaled, his green lashes minutely trembling as he kept his focus on the ex-Millefiore head. He casually waved his hand, the rapier-like stick retracting with the motion before he brought it to his waist and hooked it to his belt.
His face which previously displayed an expression akin to a dangerous predator, one similar to when he used to play basketball, smoothened into something much more welcoming. His lips curled up into one of his professional sham grins as his left hand gently combed his messy locks of green.
The feeling of his clammy palm against his slightly sweaty head made him almost frown, it wasn't very hygienic, then again, compared to when he played basketball he supposed he was in much better form right now.
"Yo, Byakuran was it?" he greeted as if they weren't at each other's throat the second before.
Byakuran returned the greeting with a brilliant smile, unbothered by the passive aggressivity the green blatantly displayed in his gaze. "Ara, isn't that Mikaël?" he replied with as much phlegm as him.
Gold and purple met in a staring contest, the aggressivity and nonchalance growing stronger with the seconds until Ryota felt a tug on his shirt sleeve.
He glided his golden eyes to look down at his brother's blank face, discerning hidden worry behind his green eyes before looking back at Byakuran.
"Next time, I'll be sure to take that unfashionable watch of your wrist-ssu," he promised, his grin turning slier and more vicious as his eyes narrowed, flashing with turbulent red before settling back to their usual golden.
Byakuran raised a contemplative eyebrow. "Really now? Ha, I'd love to see that. Well, I don't have much expectation for you— or your Bratva as a whole," he jeered, a taunting smirk growing to replace his usual plastic smile. "After all, from what I remember, Aleksey wasn't much of a challenge. Why should I fear you?"
