Ryuji Sakamoto- 03/07 (p5)


"Just imagine you're out there

Swatting lies in the making

Can't move fast without breaking

If you hold on life won't change "


Ryuji was a popular kid in middle school. He had track friends he studied with, distant admirers who slipped notes into his locker, and invitations out that he always took people up on, better to be out then home.

It used to mean that when he twisted an ankle (or obtained another injury whose origins he wouldn't want to disclose), people would come by with his homework. Sometimes they would even help him with it, reasoning that he missed out on the lesson. Some of the self appointed tutors were good, and others didn't know the lesson any better than he did, but all of them sincerely wanted to help him. It made him want to do well, to thank the people who support him.

Sometimes, its a bit intimidating, all these expectations he has, and that other people have about him. But it makes him feel warm, proud, and determined to live up to the expectations.

Most people say middle school was a hard and confusing time for them, but Ryuji ends his middle school career with decent grades, a track scholarship to a prestigious high school, a lot of friends, and expectations of being taught by a famous coach. School isn't his favorite place to be, but he can say honestly that he is looking forward to high school.

High school shatters his dreams alongside his bones, all in one mistimed loss of his temper. It's sort of his fault. He knew that their shitty excuse of a coach was deliberately aiming for where it hurt, just like his father picked at sore spots to make him lose his temper and justify hurting him. He knows how that looks in a man's eyes, that calculation. Ryuji has never had the best control on his temper, for all he should know better.

It's hard to stop from lashing out when in pain.

His mood is black in recovery. He hates himself, he hates his coach, he hates his shitty excuse of a father who is not going to help him. He doesn't hate his mom, for all that his wild bouts of frustration hurt both of them.

He feels useless while he recovers at home. Normally, when he feels this angry he would run it out, but HE can't run anymore, and he's never going to run the same way again, not even if he could afford the physical therapy to get back into track shape. Which, they can't, as his father won't send money, and his mother works hard to pay for the apartment they have.

He's frustrated and stuck, and can't even really do nice things for her like clean or make her dinner. He can't run, and the main release he has is to play video game's and get angry at solvable problems like the boss of Midknight Way, which is at least beatable with enough practice. Unlike any of his real life problems.

Neither his teammates or classmates come to visit him. Just Mishima, covered in bruises, and reeking of guilt. He's not coming because he wants to, just because he has to. He can't even look Ryuji in the eyes. It makes him want to shout at him, but then he would probably be scared off from coming, and its probably better to see someone over no one.

So he refrains. Some days barely.

He doesn't even really want to do his homework. Doesn't want to do shit for Shujin academy, or his classmates after how it shattered him. Sometimes he does his homework thinking its what mom would have wanted. She was so glad when he got in on a scholarship.

So some days he sends Mishima back with completed work, done at the last moment out of obligation and other days he sends in empty sheets. Doing the homework makes him miserable. Not doing the homework all day also makes him miserable. He can't stop thinking about it. There's not a lot he can focus on, and even angrily struggling through the math problems doesn't mean he knows the theory behind it.

It makes him angry, like about everything else these days. He misses having friends, but everyone he thought was a friend was a coward. On a good day he doesn't blame them. He doesn't have a lot of good days lately.

His hair gets long and unwashed, gross and greasy, and looking so much like his father he can't stand it. One day he takes the kitchen scissors to them, hacking away until it's short. He washes it in the shower, and feels a relief when he looks in the mirror, and doesn't see his father looking out at him.

Apparently it had been bothering him more than he acknowledged.

But he wants to take it further.

When his mom comes home, he has cleaned up the hair on the floor, and gotten into his oldest clothes. He's looking up how to dye his hair on the internet, but he wants someone else with him for this.

He asks her to buy him hair dye.

She looks at his short hair, and asks him what colour.

"Neon Yellow."

She smiles at him.

"You will need to bleach it first. And you have to agree to dye it something different when you start looking for a job."

"When I'm ready to dye it for a job, I will dye it bright bubblegum pink."

She laughs.

But she does get him the hair dye, and helps him change it. It feels like he loses a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying when he looks in the mirror and looks nothing like his father.

It's not complete recovery, but it is the start of moving on.