The prison was quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by an eerie silence. Ryohta sat on his bunk, his eyes fixed on the small window high above him. The moonlight filtered through the bars, casting long shadows across the cell. He had been waiting for this moment, biding his time, and now it was finally here.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder with each passing second. Ryohta's heart raced as the door to his cell creaked open. A guard stepped inside, his face obscured by the shadows. In his hands, he carried a long, narrow object wrapped in cloth.
"You've got five minutes," the guard muttered, his voice low and tense. "Don't make me regret this."
Ryohta's lips curled into a faint smile as he took the object from the guard's hands. He unwrapped it carefully, his fingers trembling with anticipation. Inside was a katana, its blade gleaming in the moonlight. The guard had come through, just as Ryohta had known he would. Money and fear were powerful motivators.
The guard left, locking the cell door behind him. Ryohta stood, the katana in his hands, and began to move through a series of practiced motions. The blade sliced through the air with a soft hiss, its weight familiar and comforting. He had trained with a katana for years, honing his skills in secret. It was more than just a weapon—it was an extension of himself.
As he moved, his mind drifted back to Aika. He could see her face, her eyes filled with determination as she had faced him in the courtroom. She thought she was safe, that she had won. But she was wrong. He would show her that no one could escape him, not even behind the walls of a prison.
The guard returned, his face pale and tense. "Time's up," he said, holding out his hand for the katana.
Ryohta hesitated, his grip tightening on the hilt. For a moment, it seemed as though he might refuse. But then he smiled, a cold, calculating smile, and handed the blade back to the guard.
"Thank you," he said, his voice soft but filled with menace. "You've been most helpful."
The guard wrapped the katana in the cloth and hurried out of the cell, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. Ryohta sat back down on his bunk, his mind racing with plans and possibilities. The blade had been a test, a reminder of the power he still wielded, even from behind bars.