As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Ryo sat alone in the small common area of the dormitory, reviewing the events of the day. His expression was blank, his mind methodically replaying every action, every decision, every conversation. He mentally assessed each teammate's performance with cold precision, noting where they'd faltered, where they'd been effective, and where they'd simply gotten lucky. Luck was not a factor Ryo relied upon.
He felt the presence of someone approaching before he heard their footsteps. Aya walked over, taking a seat beside him on the worn couch. She looked tired but somehow content. After a moment, she turned to him, a faint smile on her lips.
"I think we did well today, don't you?" she asked softly.
Ryo's gaze remained fixed on a spot in the distance, his voice calm and detached. "We completed the objective. That was all that was required."
Aya sighed, a little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's one way to look at it, I suppose. But it wasn't easy. There were moments… well, I don't know if we would've made it without you."
He glanced at her, his face still impassive. "You give me too much credit. Each of you followed instructions. That was enough."
She laughed lightly, though her expression softened as she looked at him. "You always make it sound so simple, Ryo. I don't think it is."
"Because you're focused on the details that don't matter," he replied. "Emotions, interpretations. They're distractions."
Aya studied him, her gaze unwavering. "And what about you? Are you never… distracted?"
For a moment, a silence hung between them, her question echoing slightly in the stillness of the room. He met her gaze, his expression unreadable.
"No," he answered finally. "I'm not."
She looked away, as if slightly disappointed. "It must be… peaceful, in a way, to be able to think like that."
"Peace isn't the goal," he said flatly. "Efficiency is."
Before Aya could respond, the door opened, and Kenji strode in, a smirk on his face. He threw himself into the armchair across from them, his eyes dancing with barely concealed amusement.
"So," he said, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head, "are we all gathered here for a post-mortem, or are we just basking in the warm glow of our mutual triumph?"
Ryo's face remained expressionless. "There's no reason to revisit what's already done."
Kenji chuckled. "You're a real buzzkill, you know that? Most people would take a moment to celebrate."
"We're not most people," Ryo replied. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if simply stating a law of physics. "Celebration implies we've achieved something worth acknowledging. We haven't."
Kenji raised an eyebrow, his amusement tempered by a hint of annoyance. "Right. Well, next time you save our necks, maybe at least pretend to be proud of yourself, will you?"
Aya shot Kenji a reproachful look, but he merely shrugged, his eyes flicking between the two of them.
At that moment, Mayu entered, pausing briefly at the sight of the group gathered together. She seemed hesitant but quickly recovered, flashing a quick smile as she approached.
"I see everyone's here," she said. "Perfect timing."
Aya looked at her curiously. "Did you need something?"
Mayu's eyes shifted to Ryo, and there was a glimmer of something calculative in her gaze. "I wanted to discuss the announcement. The principal's message—about sacrifice, loyalty… it all sounded like more than just a standard test."
Ryo regarded her calmly. "And?"
"And," she continued, "I have a feeling that this is a prelude to something bigger. We may have to choose alliances more carefully from here on out."
Ryo's expression remained neutral, his voice steady. "Alliances are temporary. Use them as long as they serve a purpose. Discard them when they don't."
Kenji laughed under his breath, though there was a sharpness in his tone. "Always so practical, Ryo. You make it sound like we're chess pieces."
Ryo glanced at him, unperturbed. "We are. The sooner you understand that, the better your chances of surviving here."
Aya shifted uncomfortably, but she didn't argue. Mayu, however, continued to watch Ryo, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"So you don't trust anyone? Not even us?" she asked.
Ryo met her gaze evenly. "Trust is unnecessary. I rely on you to complete the tasks you're assigned. That's all."
There was a pause as Mayu digested his words, her expression guarded. "You're a hard person to read, Ryo. Sometimes, I wonder if you're just as ruthless as the Institute itself."
"That's irrelevant," he replied. "What matters is that I know what I'm doing."
Aya shifted, her voice quiet but firm. "But even so, Ryo, we're… we're working together. Doesn't that mean something?"
He looked at her, his face devoid of any emotion. "What matters is the result. Nothing else."
Aya bit her lip, her expression pained, but she didn't respond. Kenji watched the exchange with a bemused smirk, though he said nothing.
After a moment, Mayu spoke again, her tone calm but probing. "If that's the case, Ryo, then what's your endgame? What's the 'result' you're looking for?"
He looked at her, his gaze cold and calculating. "That's my business."
She nodded slowly, though her eyes never left his. "Fair enough. But don't expect us to follow blindly. We're all here for our own reasons, after all."
Ryo's gaze shifted between them, his expression unchanging. "Do what you need to. I'll do the same."
The tension in the room was thick, each word laced with a subtle challenge. Aya glanced between them, her expression conflicted, while Kenji merely shrugged, as if the entire exchange were a game to him.
After a moment, he stood, stretching lazily. "Well, this has been fun, but I think I've had enough of Ryo's 'motivational speeches' for one night. See you all tomorrow."
With that, he sauntered out, leaving the others in silence. Mayu watched him go, then turned back to Ryo, a faint smile on her lips.
"You know, Ryo, you might be more effective if you let people see a little humanity once in a while."
He met her gaze, his expression as blank as ever. "Humanity is a liability here."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe. But it might also be the one thing that keeps us from becoming exactly what they want us to be."
Aya looked at Ryo, her eyes full of a quiet plea, but he simply looked away, unaffected. After a moment, she rose, giving him one last glance before leaving the room in silence. Mayu followed, her gaze lingering on him briefly before she too disappeared.
Ryo sat alone, his thoughts sharp and cold. He had no intention of letting sentiment cloud his judgment. Emotions were a weakness, a distraction he couldn't afford. He understood the rules of the Institute better than any of them. To survive, to succeed, he would remain detached, calculated, and utterly unyielding.
For a long time, he sat there, his mind dissecting each interaction, each possible outcome. He would do what needed to be done, and he would do it without hesitation. Because in the end, this was his game to win.