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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Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick—
The peaceful sound of the clock ticking away echoed in the otherwise silent living room, Zhihao who sat alone calmly sipped on some tea, his mind at ease, he gingerly closed his blue eyes.
He wondered what time it was, barely refraining himself from glancing at the atrocity adorning his wrist to look at the opposing wall. It was a bit after four in the afternoon, probably school would end soon.
He mused on how the previous day's battle ended, on the final score and how his Martial Brother and future underling had done. Although their performance wasn't praiseworthy, it wasn't that bad either. They should be able to cope without him today too.
The Chinese man hummed to himself, his eyes carefully tracing the edges of his metallic fan, well, it was another way to test Younger Martial Brother on Lyosha's orders.
One finger gliding over the fan, he carelessly finished his drink. Either way, he said he would keep an eye on his Master's relative today. He stretched his fingers, closing and opening his palms in turn before taking his used cup to the kitchen sink.
Although Zhihao was raised as a sheltered Young Master and was used to having people wait on him every day, it didn't mean that he couldn't take care of his things. Only, he liked to delegate such menial tasks.
Tucking his fan in his blue cheongsam's large sleeves, he didn't forget to grab a few acupuncture needles from his wooden case in his room, carefully he placed them in inconspicuous places of his attire.
Now, where would the boy be?
::
"Kufufu, tell me Ota-kun," the illusionist called out from his seat in on the couch. "Aren't you afraid that I'll stab you in the back?" he said, pointing his trident at the green's face to show his point.
Shura's blue eyes minutely narrowed, his hand crept closer to one of his blades, ready to retaliate and protect his future Boss if necessary.
"Fufu, aren't you?"
Ryota raised an eyebrow at the teen's words, he didn't bother to usher Shura to lower his weapon as he hummed in contemplation. "I wouldn't say that the possibility didn't cross my mind," the model admitted, his fingers gently pushing the weapon aimed his way aside. "Rather, I think that Francchi being on your team is enough insurance to keep me and Shura safe at the moment," he admitted a plastic grin on his face as he rubbed his brother's forehead in a display of affection.
