Please, Go

When they first board the flight, he doesn't ask any questions; he knows by now they are pointless. When they land in Copenhagen, Ryo simply takes Alice's bags without so much as a backward glance at the vaguely familiar airport, faded gray from his memory of years ago. But when they finally reach the old pub where he worked at before becoming her aide, he stops on the cobblestone road. The snow, fresh from Christmas, glitters white under his leather shoes, given to him by Alice's mother.

"Miss Alice?" Ryo asks. He is a man of few words and even fewer expressions. His eyes do not betray the storm beneath his lethargic demeanor. On his wrist, his red bandana scratches against his skin as if reminding him of its presence.

"Ryo," Alice says, and for the first time that day, she doesn't follow up with an urgent command or a puppy-eyed whine. She doesn't snap, "Why is it so damn cold? Make it warmer!" as if he can control the weather. She doesn't make him drop her bags, dig through her bulking luggage, and pull out an overly fluffy winter coat. Instead, she just smiles and waits. Watches him move mechanically, like a marionette pulled unwittingly by puppet strings, into the pub. He almost forgets to spare a second glance when the chefs immediately identify him and cheer at his arrival, clamoring at his pale-faced presence. Almost. Ryo is so used to watching Alice that, even through the busy flurry of hands touching his hair, his face, his skin — "Is it really you, Ryo-chan? Are you really here?" — he catches her walk away. Before he can tag at her heels again, though, the chefs beg him to cook them a meal.

Maybe one more, Ryo decides. He doesn't bother untying the bandana at his wrist, though; they do not warrant his frenzy, his fire, his passion. It has been nearly ten years, and he has thought about coming back for so long, but all he can focus on now is his master's back disappearing into the mist.

"You've changed so much, Ryo-chan," one of the older chefs says as Ryo quickly sautés a cauliflower and onion. The pub is closed by now, so his former companions lounge about in the few chairs not tipped over by drunken men who do not deserve his cooking. "You used to be so…"

"Angry?" another chef suggests, and they all collapse into laughter. Ryo draws his mouth into a thin smile before pouring the contents of the pan onto a large plated fish.

"Dig in," he says.

And they do. It's delicious, they say through leaking mouthfuls, wiping at their chins with the wrinkled backs of their hands. Just imagine if I wore my bandana, Ryo thinks. They engage in some more mindless chatter — rather, the chefs talk and Ryo sits back with the occasional grunt — for another hour or so until Alice dances back into Ryo's vision. He almost misses her; her ivory skin and hair fade into the icy backdrop, washing her out into a blank space if not for the dark haze settling outside the pub.

"Excuse me," Ryo mutters, and walks out the doors.

Alice hears his footsteps but doesn't turn around. Instead, she walks a few meters to the docks — a stretch of ragged wood holding itself together over the water for the length of a couple meters — and stares at the waves tickling the wooden panels of the boardwalk at a 90 degree angle to them, staining it with dark blushes of salt. Ryo stands behind her.

Finally, she speaks, but her voice is so soft that Ryo inadvertently leans forward to hear better and gets a whiff of strawberries and honey. A strange fragrance, one that does not quite belong to the deathly coldness of Denmark.

"The funny thing about waves is," she begins, her voice still, "they leave behind water at the shore. They come back to pick it up, but some is still left behind, obviously. They can't bring back everything." Alice stops.

Ryo takes a step forward until he stands next to her now. "Why are we here, Alice? Miss Alice, milady," Ryo corrects himself.

"Alice. You can just call me Alice," she quickly says before stopping herself again. This time, though, her voice catches in her throat, trembling, and Ryo can't tell if it's because of the wind or something else. "Ryo, I brought you here because this is your home."

He doesn't say anything. She waits, but he doesn't say anything. Alice continues after a beat. "I took you up as an aide ten years ago…wow, it's been a long time, Ryo," she laughs, her breath swirling in a silvery haze before her. "I just feel…not right about keeping you for so long," she finishes at last.

"What do you mean, mil — Alice?"

"Well, how do you feel doing my every command?" She still doesn't look at him.

"It's fine."

"Don't you…want anything else?"

Ryo thinks. Perhaps he did want to see his former companions, but there was nothing else he ever thought of. "No," he responds honestly.

"Don't you see how that's a problem?" Alice snaps, swiveling around in a puff. Ryo cocks his head in confusion; there are tears smarting at the edges of her eyes — he can hardly tell if not for the shiny glint under the streetlamp — but she only ever cries after losing a shokugeki.

"Milady — "

"No, Ryo, listen. I want you to be free. Explore the world or cook whatever you want. Of course, you'll always have a home with us, you'll always have a room back in Japan, but…I just thought you should have a choice."

Ryo closes his eyes. What's happening right now? Leave Alice's side? "You can't live without me," he says. It's true; she can't. He does every chore for her, accompanies every shopping trip, pulls out the chair for her. Prepares her schedule every morning. Tells her good morning and draws the "person" symbol on her palm before every cooking match at Tohtsuki. She needs him.

"Perhaps," she laughs, a breath of fresh air. He makes her laugh. "But you don't need me. You need…something else. Freedom."

Freedom? Ryo tangles a hand through his messy, unkempt hair. He hasn't known freedom for ten years. "I don't need freedom," he says.

"No, Ryo, you're wrong! Can't you see that? Everyone needs it!" Alice snaps in a huff, jabbing a finger at his shoulder. He almost smiles because this is the Alice he knows: tantrum-filled, always right, even when she's wrong. Him beside her, always. "And," her voice softens, "I want you to want something. To need something."

"I only need you, Alice," he says.

Alice jumps into the water.

"Alice? Alice!" Ryo immediately drops to his knees. The red bandana on his wrist loosens before letting go, fluttering to the ground. His hand shoots out and grabs it, ties it around his head mindlessly. "Alice!" he roars.

Alice's head bobs up, drenched, flattening around her cheeks. "I'm here," she splutters. "Help me out." She waves her dainty porcelain hands out of the water, staring up at the dock. She doesn't look at his eyes as he takes her wrists and wrenches her upward, yet taking care to gently sit her down on the ground. Shoving off his jacket, Ryo drapes it over Alice's head to wring out the water.

"What were you thinking?" he bellows, pressing a palm to her cheek. Ice cold. "It's below freezing! Alice, this is why you need me — "

Alice starts to cry. It's not like when she lost against Soma; this time, it's silent, her tears barely squeezed out of her eyes like they are reluctant to fall. "I don't like crying in front of you," she sniffs, leaning into his shoulder. She hides there for a little while, clutching his upturned collar. Ryo ignores the coldness of the water droplets on his sleeves as he stiffens at the crying woman under his arms. She hates crying because it makes her look weak, like a little kid — even though she is like a little kid — so he usually turns away, commanded, when she sheds even one tear. But now, her body trembles with the weight of her tears, wracking her body like the waves under them. Ryo wants to scoff at her logic: wet your entire face so no one can find the tears. But he doesn't.

For a few minutes, they are silent. Then, Alice stills herself and, still not looking up, takes the bandana off Ryo. Like a switch, he feels the energy and rage seeping out of his body.

"Well," she says finally, standing up. She doesn't offer a hand, lets him get up himself. Some things don't change. "Ryo, you're going to finish your education at Tohtsuki. You're going to become a great chef. But — "

"It's because of Soma, right? Or Hayama?" Ryo interrupts suddenly. He doesn't need the bandana anymore, at least around Alice now. He's angry at her for deciding things without him, as she always does, and usually he doesn't mind, but now she has decided to leave him. "What did they do to you?"

"No, Ryo," she says. "It's because I…"

A beat. Snow begins to fall, steeping the street in white. It reminds him of Alice.

"Because I want the best for you," she finishes at last. She slaps a credit card in his palm and takes all her bags in her hands — it's the first time she's done this, he realizes — before turning around. "Find yourself first. Please, go."

She walks away. Doesn't look back.