Archive of Our Own

Sep 20th, 2017: Wednesday

Ryuji broke out into a full sprint.

Ever since they wiped Mementos away and erased the Metaverse, he has been trying his damnedest to get back into shape.  Fighting shadows was great, it got him back to a point where he no longer hated himself, and he was faster and stronger than ever in the Metaverse.  But at the end of the day, in the real world, he was still a ways off from his peak.

He was alone on the track field.  It was long after school had ended, with only a few stragglers remaining in the building itself.  It was the perfect time to just be.  No one was looking and wondering why the school delinquent was running on the track field alone.

His leg was aching.  His right leg.  It was screaming at him, begging him to stop.  

He wouldn’t.  He needed this.  He needed to prove to himself that he can still go, that with a little work he can get back to his physical peak.

The finishing line was so close.  Just a little further.  A little further and he was back on top of the world.

He needed this now more than anything.

A grin started to spread across his face.  He was going to make it.

That’s when reality slapped him in the face.

His knee gave out and he fell to the ground.  The momentum he had picked up kept him rolling for several more feet.  The dirt cut and scraped his skin.

When he finally stopped, he was face first on the ground.  He got onto his hands and knees and just stayed like that.  He fought back the tears that threatened to come out and shook his head.

He wiped his eyes and got to a kneeling position, his hands on his knees.

Still not good enough.

Unbeknownst to him, there was an onlooker that day.

The onlooker grimaced and shook his head as he watched Ryuji get to his feet and limp off the track field.

Sep 21st, 2017: Thursday

“You alright, man?”

Ryuji looked up from his lunch.  Across from him, Akira and Ann looked at him with concern clear in their eyes.  Akira was the one who spoke first, followed by Ann.

“Yeah, you’ve barely touched your food.”

He shook his head and gave them a smile.  “It’s nothin’, guys.”

“You sure?” Ann asked.

“Yeah, honestly,” Ryuji said.  “Hey, there’s this movie I was hoping we could see.  Makoto’s gonna be busy with college stuff, so I was hoping it could be the three of us!  Y’know, just like old times.”

Ann and Akira traded a look and silently agreed to shelve this conversation for now.  If Ryuji didn’t want to talk about this, then they wouldn’t.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t reach out to someone who would.

Homework was still a challenge for Ryuji.

Studying with Makoto had gotten him to a point where he was comfortably passing his classes now, but he’d never get on the honor roll.  He was consistently hitting the high C’s or low B’s, which was a massive improvement over where he was last year.

He managed to get a B on his last final.  His mother practically threw a celebration party for him.  It was nice to see Ma so proud of him.

Right now though, all the techniques and tricks he had learned over the past year were failing him.  He felt like he was back at square one, staring down at his homework and praying for the answer to just show up.

In his head, he saw himself running.  He saw himself falling.  Again and again, hitting the dirt just shy of the goal.

His leg was beginning to bounce up and down.  Ryuji scratched at the bandage on his nose, waiting for the day it healed enough to take it off.  That was the last time he bet Akira he could take a punch in the face.

He tapped his pencil against the paper before he grunted and let it fall to the desk.  He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the kitchen.

It was almost dinner time and Ma wasn't going to be getting off work until late, so it was up to him to feed himself.

Just as he was getting out the dishes to prepare a meal with some udon noodles, the intercom went off.  He narrowed his eyes and had to do a double take at it.  He wasn’t expecting anyone tonight.  Was he?

No, Makoto had a test coming up and Akira was on a date.   Ann lived a few too many train rides away for it to be her, and the others had never come to his place.  So who the hell could it be?He walked over to the intercom and hit the call button.  “Yo.”

“Ryuji, can you let me in?”

Oh, so it was Makoto.

…

Shit, it was Makoto!  Here he was standing in his boxers and a tank top and his girlfriend was down there waiting for him for their date that he was almost certain they didn’t have!

“Uh, yeah, hold on, just a sec!”  He hit the button to let her in and quickly rushed into his room to grab a pair of pants. He had just found a pair of shorts that didn’t smell too bad when Makoto knocked on the door.

Ryuji stood in front of the door, did his best to make his hair look halfway presentable, and opened it.

Makoto, looking amazing as always, stood in her leather pants and her cropped leather jacket and handed him some Chinese takeout.

She smiled at him and said, “I hope you haven’t eaten yet.  I brought some for your mom, too.”

Ryuji gave a lopsided grin and took the food.  “Thanks.  Uh, she’s not here, she’ll be at work for a little while.”

He stepped to the side and let Makoto come in before he shut the door behind them.  As she removed her shoes and jacket, Ryuji asked, “Did I… miss a date?  I didn’t know you were comin’ over.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said as she took a seat at the single table in their living room.  “I’ve also been talking with Akira and Ann.”

Ryuji grimaced and flexed his hand.   He appreciated Makoto’s honesty about why she came here, even if he was frustrated by his two best friends going behind his back to bring his girlfriend into perceived problems.

Not that those problems weren’t real.  They just weren’t any of their business.

“I appreciate the gesture, ‘Koto, but honestly, I’m fine,” he lied more to himself than her.  “Ya didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“Ryuji, I love you, but you are a terrible liar,” Makoto said, softly smiling up at him.  There was no venom or reprimanding in her voice,   She began to remove the food she had brought from the bag and placed it onto the table.  “They know something is bothering you.  I've suspected for a little while.  I just want to know what it is.”

He shook his head.  “I don’t want to--”

"You're limping again." She gestured down to his leg.  Ryuji froze up.  Shit, he's been limping?  No wonder Ann and Akira were concerned for him.  She pointed out, "You only do that when you push yourself too hard."

Ryuji looked down at his leg and rubbed his thigh.  He had been going hard lately. 

“You helped me when I needed you,” Makoto said.  She set down the last box of food and focused her entire attention onto him.  “Let me do the same.”

Ryuji took a sharp breath.  Those crimson eyes would never not look beautiful to him, no matter how often he looked at them.

She gestured to the food and added, “It’s Lo Mein.  I know you like Lo Mein.”

He chuckled and nodded.  “I do like Lo Mein...  Alright, fine.  If you insist. Grub first, though.  I’m actually starving here.”

Makoto beamed up at him.  “You’ve got a deal.”

After Ryuji positively gorged himself on Chinese, he invited Makoto into his bedroom to discuss things.

Due to living with his mother and not wanting to put more stress on her than necessary, they kept Makoto’s visits to a minimum. So far, she’s only been over three times before this.  Naturally, his mother positively doted on her the second she stepped in the door.

It made doing certain other activities rather difficult, and Akira coming back early took away one of their spots to perform said activities, but it was worth it just to have his best bud back.  Makoto having an apartment all to herself now made that a little easier, even if they could only reliably meet up once a week.

He sat across from her on his bed and rubbed at his right knee.  It was acting twitchy.  It always acted twitchy when he was nervous.

“So, I guess I need to talk now,” he breathed out.  “Not sure it’s really that important, though.”

Makoto reached out and rested a hand on his and said, “It’s important to me.”

Ryuji glanced back up at her and cleared his throat.  He was still getting used to being in a relationship.  It’s strange how those things seem to take so long to process.

“Right.  Yeah.”   He gripped her hand and gave a light squeeze.  “I’m trying to get back on the track team.”

Makoto blinked in surprise.  Ryuji wasn’t shocked that she was taken off guard by the news.  She wasn’t there when he was dealing with some personal stuff with the track group -- he was pretty sure she’d have kicked their asses for punching him -- but she knew the basics after being relayed.

Needless to say, there was still bad blood between him and the rest of the track team. They’d never fully forgiven him and although he didn’t let it get to him on the day to day, he was still deeply hurt at them turning their backs on him.

“Really?  After everything they did to you?”

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t touched at her concern.  It was well placed, too.  Even if he could get back on the team, it was doubtful he’d be welcomed back with open arms.

Ryuji shook his head.  “It ain’t like I want to be pals with those douchebags again.  If I never saw ‘em for the rest of my life, I’d be a happy man.”

“So why do you want to join the Track team again?” Makoto asked.

He sat and thought for a second, his brow furrowed and his lips thin.  Finally, he asked, “Is there something you love to do, Makoto?  Something that makes ya happy?”

She tilted her head and replied, “Knowing and practicing Aikido makes me happy.”

“Now imagine that got taken away by some piece of shit.  He breaks your leg and tosses you to the side.  Sure, maybe you can heal up and practice it at home or sumthin’, but it ain’t the same, y’know?”

Makoto leaned away from him and nodded her head once.  “That’s what track was for you…”

“Kamoshida hurt a lot of people,” Ryuji said, digging his fingers into his knee.  “Hell, I got off lucky.  He only broke my leg.  The shit he did to Ann?  To Shiho?  Any number of girls before them?  Ruining Akira’s reputation on day one? Hell, even effin’ Mishima, turning him into his little errand boy?”

He shook his head and did his level best to suppress his anger.  He closed his eyes tight and breathed deeply.

“But he took somethin’ from me,” he growled.  “I want it back.”

Makoto leaned in and gripped his hand in return.  “So… where specifically are you having trouble?”

Ryuji looked away from her. "My leg doesn’t hurt as much anymore, but whenever I run, it… I can’t run like I used to.  Not like when we were…”

He let go of Makoto’s hand and clenched a fist.  “When we were changing hearts, fighting Shadows, my leg felt good as new.  Better, really, as if it weren’t broken in the first place.  Then that got taken away when we took down Mementos, and I was back at square one.

“I’m on the track field so much, trying to recapture that spark, y’know?  Sometimes it feels like I’m so close, like I’m about to start flying, and then my leg gives out and I fall and I--” He breathes sharply and chokes back a potential sob.  “I just want to run again.  Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong,” Makoto quickly assured him.  “These things take time, though.  I remember hearing about your injury, something like that can take years to heal up correctly.  You just need to take it one step at a time.”

“But what if I’m stuck like this forever?” Ryuji asked, tears welling up in his eyes.  “I still have no effin’ clue what I want to do for college, if I even can get into a college, track was my one chance of gettin’ a scholarship and now all I am is some delinquent with a bum leg--”

“You are not just ‘some delinquent’,” she rebuked.  It was a simple statement, leaving no room for argument, not that Ryuji felt the need to argue with her.  “You are the bravest, most considerate man I’ve ever met.  Anyone who calls you a ‘delinquent’ doesn’t know the first thing about you.”

He chewed on that thought for a second.  Sometimes, he really needed to remind himself that, for all of his faults, a woman like Makoto was able to look at him and see something worth loving.  It made him feel better.

“Thanks, Makoto,” Ryuji said, the corner of his lip lifting upward into a smile.  “But… yeah, that’s basically what’s been eating me.”

“What can I do to help?” Makoto asked.

Ryuji shrugged.  “Fix my leg.  I guess?”

She gave him a very patient look.  He threw up his hands and shook his head.  “I don’t know!  I don’t know how to fix this!”

Taking his outburst in stride, Makoto patiently said, “I know you're going through a really hard time, Ryuji, but you don’t have to do it alone.  You know that, right?”

He couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.  What the hell did he do to deserve her?  What almighty being decided that he was worth being loved?  He nodded and held out his arms.

The wordless request for a hug was given, received and accepted.  Makoto leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his chest.

“I have to try,” Ryuji said quietly, more to himself than to her.  “I don’t think I could forgive myself if I don’t try.”

“I know,” Makoto whispered back, pecking a quick kiss on his cheek.  “If you need me, I’ll be there.”

Sep 22th, 2017: Friday

“Shit!” Ryuji shouted as his leg gave out beneath him once again.

He clutched his scraped and battered knee and held it close to his chest.  His breath came out in a sharp hiss as he tried to deal with the pain.  It was far from the worst he had ever felt -- the scars from his days as a Phantom Thief were testament to that -- but it was still an invasive sort of pain.

He sat on the ground, catching his breath and cursing himself inside.

That run was worse than yesterday.  He hadn’t even cleared half the field before his leg had enough.

He felt tempted to start beating the innocent ground but relented after a second’s consideration.  Venting his anger like that wasn’t going to get him anywhere, better to just pick himself up and try again tomorrow.

Before he could get to his feet, a shadow fell over him.  He blinked and looked up and was not at all pleased to see a familiar shape standing above him.

Takeishi looked down at him with a sneer on his lips.  “What do you think you’re doing, track traitor?”

It took all the power in Ryuji’s being to not immediately hurl insults Takeishi’s way.  They hadn’t spoken a word to each other in over a year at this point, and he was in no mood to start today.

“Didn’t know you owned the field,” Ryuji said, getting to his feet.  His leg wobbled slightly as he put pressure on it, but he refused to let Takeishi try to capitalize on the weakness.  “I’m just trying to stay in shape.”

“Really?”  Takeishi asked, stroking his chin.  He glanced at Ryuji up and down.  “Been watching you for a bit now.  Looks to me like you’re trying to rejoin the team.”

Ryuji rolled his eyes and started to walk past his former teammate.  The walk ended up being more of a limp, but he didn’t let that stop him.  “We already did this, Takeishi, remember?  You got a free punch out of it.”

Before he could move away from Takeishi, a hand was placed on his chest and pushed him back.  He stumbled and had to fight to stay on his feet.  

As he did so, he turned to Takeishi with a snarl on his face.  “You got something you want to say?  How about you stop being a prick and just effin’ say it.”

Takeishi shook his head and matched Ryuji’s glare.  “Do you really think you deserve to be back on the team?  After everything you did?”

“Last I checked, I helped you dumbasses from ending up with Kamoshida-lite, so you’re welcome,” Ryuji fired back.

He clenched his hands into fists.  They were shaking, just itching to be unleashed onto this smug asshole.  It was an impossible request to grant, though.  He may have still had issues with his temper at times, but he knew throwing a punch would only end in more trouble.

“It was your fault that the team got disbanded in the first place,” Takeishi growled.  He leveled a finger at Ryuji.  “You will never be accepted into the track team again.  Do you hear me?  Never.”

“Last time I checked, it didn’t matter what an individual member thought,” Ryuji said, slapping the finger away.  “It’s a school club like any other.”

“We don’t need dead weight.”

Ryuji’s temper flared.  All the checks and balances in his brain failed at once.  He got up into Takeishi’s face and shouted, “Who the hell are you callin’ ‘dead weight’?!”

To his credit, Takeishi didn’t blink.  He looked Ryuji dead in the eye and hardened his gaze.  “You got one good leg and zero sense.  You’d be less than useless.”

Breathe, Ryuji, just breathe, he told himself.  He knew Takeishi was just being a dick.  He didn’t know why but that didn’t matter.  Just let it go and walk away, leave it behind.

He took a deep breath and scoffed.  “Whatever,” he said.  “I don’t need this shit.”

Ryuji turned and walked over to the bench.  He grabbed his gym bag, stuffed his water bottle back into it and threw it over his shoulder.  As he was leaving, Takeishi called out, “If you really think you can still go, prove it!”

Ryuji looked back at him and scowled.  “What?

“I know the new Student Council President,” he said.  “He’ll let us use the track, no problem.  Meet me here on Sunday at noon and if you beat me in a race I will personally vouch for you coming back to the track team.  That’s a promise.”

Ryuji mulled over his options.  He could tell Takeishi where to shove his offer and leave it at that.  Sure, he was popular amongst the track team, but it wasn’t like he was in charge of it or some shit.

But when they were on the same team, Takeishi was always second best. He never beat Ryuji in a race, coming close but never quite crossing the necessary threshold.

If Ryuji was going to be on the track team, he knew he needed to prove to Takeishi and more importantly to himself that he was still the best. 

So, he did the thing he knew Makoto probably wouldn’t approve of and flashed Takeishi a wolfish grin.  “Get ready to eat my dust, prick.”

Sep 24th, 2017: Sunday

No words were exchanged between the two former teammates when they arrived on the field.

They stretched and Ryuji continued to ignore the lingering pain in his knee before they both lined up in their starting positions. 

"The 400 meter," Takeishi announced, eliciting a stunned look from Ryuji.

"The 400 meter?" He asked.  "You've never won one of those, the hell makes you think you can beat me now?"

Takeishi just grinned.  "Then you'll have no trouble beating me."

Ryuji scoffed and dug his feet into the dirt.  It had been a few years since he ran the 400 meter to completion, since before his knee was broken.

He always hated it.  It hurt like no other and he wasn’t entirely sure he could run the full thing right now with his leg.  But he had to, if only to wipe that smug smile off Takeishi’s face.

“On three,” Takeishi announced.

There was no verbal reply, just the steeling of a gaze.

“One.”

Ryuji’s muscles tensed.  His leg throbbed.

“Two.”

He took a deep breath.

“Three!”

They were off.

Ryuji pounded the dirt, working up to his max race velocity.  It was important to reach up to that point without the buildup of lactic acids in the first 50 or so meters.  Last time he ran this race, this part of the run was no problem.

This wasn’t last time. 

He couldn’t focus on his opponent.  He had to run as fast as he could, but he knew he was at a handicap.  That wouldn’t stop him, he wouldn’t allow it to stop him.  He could feel it, he hadn’t run this fast since Shido’s palace.

After the first 50 meters, he relaxed his arms.  It didn’t make the pain any better, and he wasn’t slowing down any, but he was conserving some energy for later.  He had to keep this up for another 150 meters, but it was Hell.

His breathing was ragged.  His vision was going blurry.  Damnit, it can’t end like this.  Not this soon.

Ryuji powered through the pain.  It was almost time to build power back up.  He would have to start using his arms more.  No problem, his arms were never the issue.  Hell, they were stronger than ever.  He was almost halfway there, so close to the 200 meter mark, after that he could--

That’s when the world fell out underneath him.

His knee buckled and he started to roll onto the ground.  It all happened in slow motion, giving him all the time in the world to see his progress up until now.  Takeishi was a good 20 to 30 meters ahead of him.

The crushing reality of the situation hurt more than the ground rushing up to meet him.

He was never even close.

Ryuji tried to roll with the impact, but it still hurt like hell.  He got to his hands and knees, staring at the ground.  He tried to fight back the tears to no avail.

It wasn’t the knee.  He could handle pain.  Pain was easy.

It was the truth that was hard.  It was the truth that he was never going to be what he once was.

He gritted his teeth as the tears fell to the ground.

“FUCK!”

Ryuji raised a fist and slammed it into the ground.  He raised it again and punched the ground over and over, punctuating every one with another curse.

“Fuck!  Fuck! FuckfuckfuckingFUCK!”

He didn’t stop when he cut open his knuckles and began getting dirt into the wounds.  He just kept pounding and swearing.  Maybe it would make him feel better.  It didn’t.

After a while, he stopped and leaned forward into a ball, covering the back of his head.

Ryuji was a failure.  He screwed himself when he stood up to Kamoshida, he screwed the tack team for over a year, and now he was here without any way to get back what that bastard took from him.

It was so pathetic it was almost funny.  The bastard was rotting in prison for hopefully the rest of his life and was still finding ways to ruin Ryuji’s life.

When lifted his head up, he saw Takeishi had stopped running and walked over to stand in front of him. 

Ryuji got into a sitting position, spat on the ground to the side, and wiped his nose.  “Alright, let’s hear it.  ‘Track traitor should know his place’, right?  That’s what you’re going to say?  So just say it and we can both go home.”

He expected Takeishi to mock or belittle him.  To drive home the point or something like that.

Instead, he did something Ryuji never would have guessed in a million year.

Takeishi got to his knees and bowed his head to the ground, prostrating himself before Ryuji.  “Please accept my apology, Sakamoto-san.”

Ryuji felt at a loss for words.  He tried to dig deep to find a response of some kind, but there was nothing.  All he could muster was, “The hell?”

It seemed as if that was enough for Takeishi, as he got to his feet and held out a hand.  Ryuji looked between the track star and the offered appendage before tentatively taking it.  He was helped to his feet and steadied before his bad knee could bring him back to the ground.

Takeishi gestured over to the Shujin building. “Get changed.  We need to talk.”

Before he even gave Ryuji a chance to speak, he was already heading back towards the locker rooms. 

The blond scratched at the back of his head and quietly asked himself, “What the hell was that about?”

Later, after a silent and awkward train ride to Ogikubo’s, the two sat next to each other at the bar.  Delicious food was placed in front of Ryuji, but he found that he didn’t have an appetite.

Takeishi comes up, talks shit, destroys him in a race, and then has the audacity to apologize after two years of being a complete dick?

He even offered to pay for the food.

Ryuji looked and saw Takeishi grimace down at his own bowl.  Apparently he wasn’t happy either.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Ryuji asked, pushing the bowl away from him.

“You were right about Kamoshida,” Takeishi said.  “You were right about him,  and the rest of us were too stupid to see it.”

That got Ryuji to do a double take.

“Nakaoka is too afraid to come and apologize to you.”  Takeishi brought the soda he ordered to his lips and took a drink.  “He thinks you’d beat the shit out of him if he tried.”

Ryuji narrowed his eyes and leaned away.  "Why now?  You couldn’t have done this a year ago?  Or how about when my knee got broken?”

“You know exactly why I didn’t,” Takeishi snapped back.  “Kamoshida had an iron fist around the school, and if we stood up, we would’ve been broken just like you.”

Ryuji couldn’t exactly argue the point.  They were kids, what were they actually expected to do? So he nodded his head and looked back down to his food.

“Still, he brought up your dad.  Insulted your mom.”  Takeishi shook his head and sneered.  “I can get why you did what you did.”

“So why tell me this?” Ryuji asked.

Takeishi finally looked him in the eye and asked, “Do you have any idea what you are doing to yourself, Sakamoto?”

Ryuji blinked.  “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been watching you run yourself into the ground for weeks now.  How many times do you think you can push your knee like that before you can’t even walk on it anymore?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to get back into running shape, man,” he fired back.  “My chance got taken from me, I’m taking it back.”

Takeishi shook his head.  “Not like that, you aren’t.  When did you have surgery on that knee of yours?”

Ryuji was at a loss for words.  He didn’t have extensive surgery on his knee to get it fixed.  The doctors set it as best as they could and sent him on his way.  That should have been enough, right?

He knew his mom couldn’t afford a surgery and the school refused to pay for it.  Apparently there was something to do with the medical coverage that didn’t go through.  It was bullshit, but he didn’t care at the time.  It was just another reason to be angry.

“I… didn’t.”

Takeishi looked at him like he grew a second head.  “You didn’t even--Do you remember what your leg looked like that day?”

Ryuji frowned. “My track career was over anyway.  The hell was the point?”

“That would probably mean you didn’t go through physical therapy either,” Takeishi pondered to himself.  He gave Ryuji another glance.  “And you got back to where you are without it?”

“Yeah,” Ryuji confirmed.  “Why?”

Takeishi waved him off.  “Nothing.  Look, I did what I did today to show you that, as of right now, you aren’t healthy enough to compete, Sakamoto.  That knee would only weigh us down, not to mention it could cripple you for life.  I’m shocked it hasn’t yet, honestly.”

God damn it, he was right.  When Ryuji looked back on these past few months of trying to get back into shape, he just saw himself falling into the dirt again and again, only bruises to show for his progress.  He clenched his fist on the table. 

A part of him, the part he hated, wanted to slam his fist down and start breaking shit, starting with Takeishi’s nose for telling him the hard truth.  It wouldn’t have done a damn thing to fix his problems, but it would’ve felt real damn good.

He relaxed his hand.  It wouldn't do a damn thing to help.

"I just wanted this one thing, y'know?" Ryuji asked.  "I wanted to prove that that piece of shit doesn't have anything on me anymore.  So much for that."

"You could get surgery," Takeishi pointed out.  "You can do physical therapy.  You just won't be getting back on the track team before you graduate, so there's no point in messing up your ability to walk to do it."

That much was true, but at that point it would be too late for him.  Honestly, this was already his second semester of his third year.  It was already too late.  He wouldn’t be able to obtain a track scholarship even if he joined tomorrow.

“It’s weird, y’know,” Ryuji noted with a chuckle.  “You of all people giving me this advice.”

“Don’t get it twisted, Sakamoto,” Takeishi interjected.  “I still don’t like you.  If I never saw you again after this, I’d die happy.”

Ryuji snorted.  Exactly what he told Makoto.

“But you did a lot for the track team,” Takeishi added.  “I figured I could repay the favor in some way.”

An official apology from the biggest asshole on the track team.  Ryuji thought the day would never come.  It didn’t solve all the issues the two had with each other, there were too many to even count to be honest, but it went a little way to bury the hatchet.

“Effin’ Kamoshida, man,” Ryuji muttered into his drink.  “I just… I just wish there was someone there, you know?  Someone who coulda been the buffer between him and all the students he hurt.”

Ryuji rubbed his temples.  “If there was just a single person that spoke up, or was there for the kids, maybe they could’ve--”

He stopped.  Takeishi raised a brow and side eyed Ryuji.  “You good, Sakamoto?”

Ryuji’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.  “...if there was someone for the kids...”

Without warning, Ryuji stood up from his desk, startling Takeishi.  He turned to his former track teammate and grinned.  “I have a plan.  I have a goddamn plan!”

He immediately started to rush out of the restaurant when Takeishi called out to him.  “Sakamoto!”

Ryuji stopped and looked back.

Takeishi asked, “Rumor’s going around that you got yourself a girl.  That true?”

Ryuji thought about telling him who it was.  The look on Takeishi’s face would have been priceless.  But he had something he needed to do now and no amount of petty satisfaction was worth putting this off.

Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and gave a lopsided grin.  “Had to happen sometime, right?”

Takeishi chuckled and then turned back to his food.  “So long, Sakamoto.  I hope I never see you again.”

“Likewise.” With that last word, Ryuji quickly turned and ran out of the restaurant.

Ryuji knocked on the door and bounced in place.  “C’mon, c’mon, open up.”

The door opened and Makoto peered out.  She looked surprised.  “Ryuji?  I wasn’t--mmph!”

She was immediately attacked with kisses, Ryuji planting them on her lips, cheeks, and nose.  Makoto was certainly caught off guard, but she wasn’t entirely displeased by the affection either.

“Ryuji!” she said at the first chance.  She tried to push him back for a little breathing space.  “What--”

Not to be deterred, he kept up the assault of love.  “I!” Kiss.  “Have!” Kiss. “A!” Kiss.  “Plan!”

Makoto’s face was now bright red as she pushed him away and tried to her best not to burst out into laughter.  “Okay, okay, if you insist on this, can we please go inside?”

A few minutes and kisses later, she had successfully carroled Ryuji into the apartment.  He was practically shaking as he removed his shoes and went to the table.  He didn’t take a seat, no, there was too much to talk about.

Makoto closed the textbook she was studying and asked, “So, what’s going on?”

“Remember the plan I told you about?” Ryuji asked.  “About getting back onto track?”

Makoto nodded.

“That shit just ain’t gonna happen,” he said firmly.

She blinked and tilted her head.  “What changed?”

“Got a kick in the ass that I needed to hear,” he replied.  He gestured to his leg.  “Never got surgery on my knee.  Never went through physical therapy, either.  By the time I get that done, it’d be too late anyway.”

Ryuji shook his head and then smiled widely.  “But that don’t matter.  I know what it is I gotta do now.  I gotta hit those books, study my ass off, and get into a good college.”

He stood up and pumped his fist.  “I’m gonna be the best damn track coach in the world!”

“A coach?” Makoto asked.  She blinked.  “That’s…”

Ryuji turned to her, his smiling falling and his shoulders sagging.  “Oh.  You don’t think I can do it?”

“Of course I think you can do it,” she quickly assured him.  “I just didn’t expect you to go for a teaching position.”

The smile returned to his face.  “I’m not going to be a track star, I’m starting to accept that.  But I know how to run, it’s what I’m really good at.  Thanks to you and your tutoring, my grades are better than ever.  I have a real shot at getting into a decent school!”

“That’s amazing, Ryuji,” Makoto said.  "You've come a long way.  I'm proud of you."

She rubbed his arm slowly.  “Still, I’m sorry you can’t run.”

“I’ll be able to one day,” he said.  “Once I get enough money, I’ll get the surgery I need, go through the therapy after that, my leg might be good as new.”

He shrugged.  “That just won’t be today.  Maybe not for a while.  But I will.  And honestly?  I don’t think I want the fame and glory that would come with being a track star anyway.  Helping other people who do?  That I’m okay with.”

As he was saying this, he realized that would be unthinkable to say for him a little over a year ago.  He’d admit to himself that all he wanted back then was to be recognized, to be popular, for all the chicks to love him.

For all of his talk about changing society, it was just a means to an end, to make up for all the shit he had gone through because of Kamoshida and all those shitty adults.

He was a little older now, a little wiser, so he knew he never needed that shit.  He knew that he had a pretty shitty attitude, too.  He didn’t need a horde of people fawning over him and what he did.  He didn't need the fame and the glory.  He didn’t need a bunch of chicks who didn’t even know who he was.

What he needed, what he had always needed, was to be okay with himself. 

And this was the way he was going to do that.