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Who thought death could ever feel so shameful? A man who has nothing to live for should at least keep his problems to himself. But life wasn’t done with him yet.
Moments ago, Ryoma had accepted his fate. There was no one waiting for him outside this prison. No friends or family – not even his cat. He was a fool. To even imagine that there was anything waiting for him in the outside world was inconceivable. A useless fabrication he should have never indulged in.
When Ryoma walked into his research lab and saw the fire of determination swelling in Kirumi’s eyes, the old tennis pro had no intentions of making it out alive. At least his life could be put to good use – to help someone who had something to live for.
At the time, forfeiting his life to her made sense. Saving a whole country in exchange for the life of a murderer with zero aspirations left. The choice was easy.
In what he thought would be his last moments in consciousness, Ryoma saw a face of a woman he hadn’t seen in years. The warmth he felt from her grin could rival the sun.
But that warmth wouldn’t last long.
The next time Ryoma opened his eyes, he was met with the bottom of a sink and water continuously invading his lungs. His body instinctively thrashed in a futile attempt to get his head above the surface of the water. His hands clawed at the sink’s edge to try and escape.
Ryoma knew he accepted death. After all, it was the only future a man like him could hope for, but the pain was unbearable. From the burning in his chest and stomach to the tightness in his throat to try and not intake any more water and the bruising of his wrist thanks to the handcuffs.
Eventually, his body became stiff as his vitality was seemingly sapped from him. He could barely keep his eyes open.
“I’m done for. . . So..rry. . .S..!”
Interrupting what Ryoma thought would be his last thoughts, he felt himself being abruptly yanked out of the water. His back slammed against the floor and he began to vomit violently on the floor. With each relieving breath of air, another vicious and vile pool of vomit would follow after.
“Ryoma!” a panicked voice called to him, but he was too occupied coughing out any residue water and what was probably his breakfast on the shower floor. The searing pain that surged from his chest and throat was like nothing he ever felt before.
Ryoma wasn’t given any time to collect himself. Suddenly, he was pulled into the arms of his unexpected savior. They dashed out of the shower room with him secured tightly in their arms.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He intended to die quietly and not drag anyone down to hell with him. Making a bigger mess of things because he couldn’t even die properly – how lame. He saw the boundless determination brimming inside Kirumi. Even if she didn’t tail them, this failed attempt wouldn’t dissuade her. Like a spider in the night, she would find the perfect opportunity to strike. Ryoma had no doubt his savior would now be the prime target.
Ryoma looked up at the fool who had thrown their life away for a criminal that had nothing left – Shuichi Saihara, the biggest fool he knew, besides himself.
That’s how Ryoma ended up in Shuichi’s room, his clothes drenched and his beanie and jacket neatly folded on the coffee table. He patiently waited for the detective who was in the bathroom to give him a towel. The pain in his chest had subsided, but that pain was replaced by the immense guilt Ryoma found himself carrying.
Shuichi stepped out of the bathroom with the towel and rushed to Ryoma’s side. He diligently scrubbed the old tennis player down the towel. Ryoma wanted to protest for being dried by someone else like he was some child, but with his hands cuffed he didn’t have a choice. When Shuichi was finished, he laid the towel on Ryoma’s shoulders and gently wrapped the towel around him.
The cold wet jumpsuit that clung to Ryoma’s skin wasn’t half the discomfort of Shuichi’s grey eyes boring into him; They held too much worry and pity for someone as lousy as him.
By the quiver of his lips and sorrow of his eyes, Ryoma could tell what Shuichi was gonna ask. But he wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t.
“You…shouldn’t have done that.”
“Huh?”
Ryoma tried to keep his voice as firm as possible; Maybe it was the chill from his soaking jumpsuit or the dread finally creeping up his spine and digging its nasty nails in his shoulders.
“Kirumi isn’t gonna throw the towel in so easily. Once she’s finished with me, you’ll be next,” Ryoma’s eyes stayed glued to the floor as he spoke. “You should’ve left me and never looked back.”
Shuichi was aghast. Before almost being seized by Gonta, Ryoma wanted to find something to help him keep moving forward. He told him that he wasn’t gonna waste his life. What smashed his will to fragments and sapped any lingering determination until it was as flimsy as an Autumn leaf?
“What happened to you, Ryoma?” Shuichi asked. “Didn’t you want to find a reason to live? Didn’t you want to bear your old st–”
“I have no stains left to bear. I’ve got nothing to pick up.”
“...”
Ryoma finally tore his gaze away from the floor. When Shuichi got a look into his eyes…he realized that the depths of true despair are deeper and darker than he ever imagined. Ryoma’s eyes were hollow, like he was completely devoid of life. One could mistake he was talking to a corpse. If Ryoma wasn’t standing right now, he might’ve believed that too. Those big round eyes that were admittedly endearing to Shuichi now looked like a bleak unending abyss of darkness that Shuichi would never escape from if he kept looking into them.
Those were the eyes of a broken man.
“I saw my motive video. There was nothing in it. I have nothing,” Ryoma’s fists tightened as he heaved out those words, each seemed heavier than the last. “So stop wasting your time.”
Ryoma hoped that would be enough and Shuichi realized the futility of clinging on to someone like him. He had no future. In or out of the prison, here or outside, there wasn’t a life filled with any bright hope at the end of this tragic tunnel that he drove himself into. Maybe if he jammed that fact into Shuichi's skull, he’d give up.
“No,” Shuichi said firmly.
Suddenly, the detective’s hands clasp Ryoma’s shoulders, his grip tighter than Ryoma had expected from someone like Shuichi. There was so much stress in his grip, the wellness of Shuichi’s hands after he let go came into question; But Shuichi didn’t let go. He was worried that if he relented his hold for even a moment, he would lose Ryoma forever. That he could run away or slip through his fingers and vanish.
He couldn’t let Ryoma go – he wouldn’t.
His eyes were now locked in on Ryoma’s, diving straight into the abyss with determination. Shuichi would go as far as he’d need to reach Ryoma.
“Don’t you remember what I told you?” Despite his soft voice, Ryoma could hear Shuichi’s fortitude loud and clear. “I won’t let you throw away our relationship, I don’t intend to either.”
Ryoma grit his teeth, growing tired of the detective's stubbornness.
“Quit it. I tried Shuichi, but I have nothing to live for. Not even my cat was in my motive video,” Ryoma sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.
“Isn’t your family a good enough reason? Isn’t she a good enough reason?”
Maybe he let Shuichi get away with too much. Hearing him bring them into this should have been enough for Ryoma to leave right there and then. Or find some anger within him to quell from what Shuichi said – but he couldn’t find it. Was he too tired to even care? All he could do was shift his gaze to the side. For some reason, Shuichi’s now seemed uncomfortable – oppressive even.
“I…didn’t know them. But I know they wouldn’t want you to give up and die,” The detective said. He wasn’t going to back down, he wouldn't let Ryoma push him away.
“I’m the reason they died in the first place.”
“If you believe that, then that's even more reason to keep living.”
Shuichi seemed to have a knack at using words to shake Ryoma to his core. He shouldn’t allow Shuichi to do this. Letting the detective string him along and fantasize about the future as if he had or deserved one. They’ll both be disappointed in the end.
“Ryoma,” Shuichi called to him.
Why did his voice have to be so gentle? Why couldn’t he yell or scream in anger? He should be furious that Ryoma is trying to drive him off, or for not thanking him for saving his life. It would be so much easier if Shuichi was angry. He could apologize, say he warned him and then leave. Having nothing chained to him on his one way trip to hell.
“Ryoma, can you look at me please.”
Ryoma wished he had his beanie right now. Hiding from Shuichi’s gaze was a challenge he wasn’t prepared for. A challenge he was no match for. Reluctantly, Ryoma’s gaze met Shuichi’s. When he finally got a look into his eyes, Ryoma understood why he had such a hard time with them – they were clear. Shuichi’s eyes were as clear as the sky on a perfect summer day with no fog obstructing anything. Before Shuichi ditched the hat, his eyes were hazy. He was lost in the mist of his past with Keade acting as his guiding light. Though some of that mist was freed from his eyes after the trial, it still lingered around him.
“Ryoma,” Shuichi's soft voice reached out to the old tennis player once again. Was it natural for a detective to be so calming to be around? “They may be gone, but their will and memory are with you. Keade…is gone, but her will and promise live on in me, and I’ll be damned before I even consider breaking it. I'd never be able to face her again if I did when it’s my time to go.”
Breathing felt laboring for Ryoma as Shuichi’s words reached deep within, down to his soul.
“How..could you know? How could someone like me…do it himself?” Ryoma’s eyes peered into Shuichi. Looking for doubt, hesitation, unease, anything he could spot to let go of any fictitious fallacious that Shuichi was leading him on.
But there was none. In those clear, gray eyes, held nothing but truth.
“It’s not about me knowing. It’s about me believing in you…and us,” Shuichi said earnestly as he finally freed his hands from Ryoma’s shoulders. “Ryoma, I want you to believe me when I say losing you after losing Keade would have been a nightmare. So have belief in yourself. Have belief in us.”
Shuichi took a careful step back and took a seat on the floor with a warm smile shining brightly to Ryoma. He stretched out his hand, but Ryoma wouldn’t take it. Ryoma preferred to walk into Shuichi and rest his head on the detective’s shoulder, while tears leaked out from his eyes.
Shuichi didn’t mind the tears or Ryoma’s cold towel and jumpsuit up against him.
As long as Ryoma was here and safe, Shuichi would endure it.
If Ryoma finds himself on the precipice of the abyss again, Shuichi made a promise to always pull him back.