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It was raining.
Ryusui wasn’t afraid of storms, no matter how violent they were. He was a sailor, after all, with water as his second skin. A bit of thunder was nothing compared to the treacherous waves he had conquered.
Lightning illuminated the open seas, thunder roared with deafening force, and the fierce waves hurled his ship about like a ragdoll— yet even this unforgiving tempest couldn’t extinguish the burning ambition in his heart.
To Ryusui, thunderstorms symbolized challenges— battles between the gods that were meant to be overcome. Standing at the helm, drenched in rain and sweat, he pointed a defiant finger to the sky, a smirk tugging at his lips. Let’s have a duel.
The storm raged on, rain pelting against every surface, blurring the line between ocean and sky. His crew moved frantically across the deck, following his commands. Their cries blended with the erratic rhythm of lightning strikes, each shout a testament to their trust in their captain. Victory was always assured under Ryusui’s leadership— if they remained sharp and...
He never saw it coming.
His body fell to its knees before he realized what had happened. Rain poured relentlessly, soaking his clothes until they clung to his skin. His hands, trembling and bloodied, pressed against the lifeless form before him.
The rain poured on, indifferent to the world below. His clothes clung to his skin, now streaked with blood. His hands tangled through the soaked hair, desperately shaking the weightless body to just— wake up. Thunder rumbled in the skies above, but he thinks he’s gone deaf entirely.
It was meant to be just another routine diplomatic meeting. As requested, Tsukasa would fly halfway across the globe, stepping into the volatile, unforgiving world of politics— not as a politician himself, but as a bodyguard. Tsukasa was the very blade that ensured safety in a battlefield where betrayal lurked in every handshake. He was a man who moved with unshakable confidence, a man who could solidify laws and sway nations with the flick of his hand. Yet, such influence came with its risks, and the shadows around him had always been filled with watchful eyes and silent threats.
Now, those very shadows seemed to have finally claimed him.
Quiet pleas drowned in the storm. Each beat of his heart kept growing heavier and heavier, shaking him to his core. Lightning lit up the night sky, and for a moment, Ryusui wondered if the shattering roar was what his own heart sounded like now.
“Stay safe.”
“I love you.”
— were words he had always said freely. Yet they felt hollow, useless. Tsukasa had always understood the dangerous world they lived in. He knew a single misstep could end in bloodshed. But neither of them had been prepared for this.
Police sirens cut through the storm as officers surrounded them, their voices muffled against the thunder. Someone tried to pull him away from Tsukasa’s body, but Ryusui didn’t have the strength to resist. His hands clung tightly, refusing to let go.
And what of the words that he wasn't able to hear?
And what of those words that Tsukasa wasn't able to say?
Only the rain bore witness to his final wishes.
Lightning crackled again, and Ryusui’s mind was swept back to his days at sea. Grey skies, fierce winds, and the salty scent of the ocean— it all came rushing back. He used to believe that storms were temporary trials, challenges to be conquered. Beyond every tempest laid clear skies, shining with promise.
But this time, there was no crew to lead and no ship to steer.
Ryusui watched helplessly as Tsukasa’s body was loaded into the ambulance, his chest heaving as he struggled against the hands restraining him, desperate for just one last moment, one last glance. Like a drowning man breaking the surface for air, he let out a scream— raw and broken— but the waves of reality swallowed it whole. He had always been fearless in the face of storms. Yet now, he felt powerless, utterly lost.
Promises they had shared began to fade, slipping between the cracks of the road. Tsukasa’s consciousness ebbed away, just like the rainwater pooling around them.
You still have so many things left to say to me.
Only the rain heard his wishes.
Ryusui’s lip quivered as his strength gave way, collapsing under the weight of his grief. Rainwater dripped from his hair and clothes, mingling with the blood still staining his hands. The cold rain was an endless, and relentless weight against his skin— until it all paused.
The absence startled him. Slowly, he looked up and found Francois standing beside him, holding an umbrella over his head. They placed their hand on his shoulder. Their expression was unreadable, but the cold comfort of their presence was enough.
For now, Ryusui let himself cry.