The prison block was silent, the usual hum of activity replaced by an eerie stillness. Ryohta sat on his bunk, his eyes fixed on the cell door. He knew tonight would change everything. The guard who had been helping him was due to return. And Ryohta was ready.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder with each passing second. The cell door creaked open, and the guard stepped inside. His face was pale, his hands trembling. He carried a bundle wrapped in dark cloth.
"You got what you wanted," the guard whispered, tossing the bundle onto the floor. "Now leave me alone. I'm done helping you."
Ryohta slowly rose from his bunk, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. He bent down, picked up the bundle, and unwrapped it. Inside was a katana, its blade gleaming faintly in the dull light of the cell. He ran his finger along the edge, feeling the cold steel.
"You've done everything I asked," Ryohta said, his voice low and menacing. "But there's one more thing you need to do."
The guard took a step back, his eyes wide with fear. "What? I'm not doing anything else for you!"
Ryohta smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only icy cruelty. "You're no longer useful to me."
In one swift motion, Ryohta moved. The blade of the katana flashed through the air, and the guard didn't even have time to scream. His body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling on the concrete. Ryohta stood over him, his breathing steady, his eyes cold. He knew time was short.
He quickly stripped the guard of his uniform and changed into it. Then he dragged the body to the far corner of the cell, covering it with a blanket. With the guard's keys in hand, he stepped into the corridor, his footsteps silent as a ghost's.
The prison was vast, but Ryohta knew its layout. He moved through the dark hallways, avoiding security cameras. His heart beat steadily, his mind focused on one goal—freedom.
When he reached the service exit, another guard stopped him. "Hey, what are you doing here?" the guard asked, raising his flashlight.
Ryohta didn't answer. The katana flashed again, and the guard fell without a sound. Ryohta stepped over the body and pushed open the door. The night air was cold, but he felt only the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He glanced back at the prison, its high walls and barbed wire. This place could no longer hold him. He was free.
Somewhere in the city, Aika was living her life, thinking he was no longer a threat. But she was wrong. Ryohta smiled, his eyes glinting in the darkness.
"Soon, Aika," he whispered. "Soon, we'll meet again."