Well, I've been away for a while, but I'm back with more updates, I'll also try and update TLD somewhen this next week.

Chapter 8

Change of pace

Somewhere in the vicinity of the city,

In a passageway area to the fields near the city, at a small settlement, there's a mansion. Its ancient walls were well preserved, grass sprawls overgrown at ground of the front yard, but the pathway of rocks leading to the entrance of the place beckons from amid the green. The folding screen slides to the side as a guest arrives.

Edo unfastens his tie, huffing and sitting down on the cushion above the green tatamis of the room, supporting his hand as if bracing himself from the anger.

"Did they write something bad again?" the folding screen on the opposite side to his seat slides open with a shoosh.

The woman entering the room is about his age, an elegant traditional sorceress clothing adorning her body, her long hair flicking naturally as she walks with a tray, two cups in it, she sits down and places both of them on the table, one for each of them. The steam coming out of the green tea spreads a pleasant aroma.

"Nah, that story died down. I'm sorry I didn't come early, especially after you requested me to come to talk about something. I was waiting for the heat to dissipate," he glances over at her apologetically.

"I understand. My brother should've given you instructions on how to behave in those certain situations too."

"Actually… I haven't seen your brother in a while… He isn't answering my calls."

"Is that so…? Well, my timing is right then, there's something I'd like to discuss with you about Takuma…"

From the heavy sigh she let out, Edo understands the direness of the situation, for her to have stopped her training and come meet him so quickly, something is off.

In the city

Rie walks into the luxury hotel room a little later than usual. Preening her messy hair behind her ear, taking off her heels and setting them aside, she casts a short glance at Ryo that sat at the couch unfazed by her presence, her eyes rebound away from him so quick it seemed a protective aura was erected around him.

After that dream she can't come to face him. His concentration is so high he barely noticed her arrival when the noise of a door shutting softly stirred in the silence as she enclosed herself in the bathroom.

It takes a few seconds, then a minute for her to calm down, looking at herself in the mirror and vowing to step up. That nightmare has nothing to do with the present and the biggest problem now is…

The nothingness in the room was disrupted by the occasional sound of cards shuffling or sliding onto the table with a hiss, the quietness doesn't last long. Another hindrance takes place: a small paper bag with choco chip cookies slides in his line of sight, his eyes riding up to look at the perpetrator: Rie munches some of them. When did she sit there? He didn't hear a thing.

They say you can reach a man's heart by the stomach, that sounds silly, but worth a try. Now which type of man are you, Ryo Marufuji?

Tugging the bag a bit closer so he can reach it, she narrows her eyes defiantly. Why is she offering it? It's beyond him how she could enter with food… Did she bribe the guards with it or what?

"I dislike overly sweet desserts," he states bluntly.

With an annoyed and hamster-quick munching, dragging back the bag, grumpily tossing it over her own seat and standing up right after, she rolls her eyes.

Not to bother him, huh? That's the rule…

Lifting the padded chair, to carry it to its usual spot, she makes an effort, dropping it behind the couch.

Dusting her hands off, she takes a seat again, her brows curling up as she points at him, closes her fists with only her index standing out, then twists it in a swirl from making a one to looking like an upright candle stick in front of her. Her lips pronouncing the word "Alone".

"I don't understand sign language."

That was the last of their interaction that night which concluded uneventful with him again tinkering with his deck while she was engrossed into some book. Little did he know, the trial wasn't over…

For the second time, Ryo stares at the paper bag on the table, this night there are no sweets, but cheesy tartes instead, her blue orbs anxiously awaiting for a reaction. What does she think he is? A skittish, hungry animal that will pounce at any food offering and befriend her? With a meek shake of head he denies.

Releasing a deep, exhausted sigh, her eyes roam around, calculating where is the mistake, and the next time she brings a layered dough filled in ham and cheese which he glares at her for to answer a no; then it's a wild-fruits cheesecake next night, and it doesn't stop there.

Where does she even get those from? He refuses it every single time with a hand or with a glare, but she keeps bringing food in infinitely. Does she have a black hole in her bag that spawns all the food?

When she brought those delicious looking dark-chocolate coated cake slices was the last straw. His empty stare fully dedicated to her as she nibbles a chunk of it, looking at him determined, seeing through if he'd finally give in, taking it as a personal challenge of hers.

"Rie," he calls in a rugged tone.

She knew it was serious when he used her name instead of "you" or "hey". And also when put his deck down onto the table, sliding his cellphone closer, folding his arms in an imposing posture.

"Why do you keep bringing food here? I'm not interested in it and I'm sincerely fearful of your intentions."

[What do you mean? I'm just sharing edibles. They're treats from a bakery I work at. Don't worry, they're not poisoned.]

"You work at a bakery?" his brows arch unwillingly.

[Part-time.]

"How many part-time jobs do you have exactly?"

It takes her a long, hard-working second to make the math in her mind, her face crinkled all over. [A couple, and I'm moonlighting.]

His brows furrow even more sternly. She's calling being here "moonlighting"? Fair enough, without a doubt, no boss would hire her if they find her background, even if it's just a façade.

Why is she so obsessed with fattening me up? Should I be wary of this girl after all?

"Let's not change the main topic here: why are you bringing in food?"

[I just thought of sharing those since I got them fresh. There's no ulterior motive.]

"I don't know what you're trying to do, but stop it. Now," the assertiveness in his voice makes her flinch, his finger impatiently tapping on his arm. "I am terrified to think about the meaning of your actions and what you're up to."

T-terrified?

He doesn't look afraid of her at all. Under his probing, harsh gaze, she can't help but shrink.

Ugh. This is so embarrassing. How do I explain that he doesn't look the same from that magazine from months ago and I wanted to ask about it? I'm so curious…

"So, will you explain yourself or not?"

There's also the stuff with those unbelievable articles in all sorts of written media… Like how they said the duels he won at the pro league were staged and that's why he fell so quickly in ranks.

Or how they said he probably cheated on the exams at the academy and never had talent in the first place…

"I'm waiting," he frowns. "We have the whole night ahead."

I have to ask somehow!

As he glares at her intensely, vexed, she types without thinking on consequences, what comes to mind, blurting out half the story:

[I was concerned because you seem unhealthy.]

"Unhealthy? Oh, you mean, skinny?" He repeats spitefully remembering how she told it to him once. "Is that the word you were about to use?"

He'll just have an even lower opinion of me and give me that downsizing smirk if he finds out I was gleaning info from duel magazines and digging into his past!

[Im not any sort of crzy fan o r anthing like that!]

With how panicked she typed and how many orthographical errors piled up, he imagined her stuttering in the head-canon voice his mind crafted for her.

[Youre a pro duelist, arent you? Shouldnt you care sbout your image?]

"My image?"

A light at the end of the shame tunnel she entered on her own, banging her head hectically, she affirms with all her might. As soon as "duel" is mentioned, he gets hooked into the topic. If she just knew it was this easy sooner...

[If you're looking unhealthy, won't you be less popular?]

Image, hm? I did get an image change after Saruyama suggested, but it's so obvious this is not her main reason…

His eyes avert from hers for a single minute as he ponders over her considerations, but he's soon facing her straight, no doubt in his tone:

"That's none of your concern, this is a job for my promoter to worry about."

[You mean that guy who also is into this prostitution ring? You're letting him in charge?] she raises a brow intently.

True Saruyama is not a reliable person, though, he does his job well enough. Ryo is using him, but at the same time he is letting himself be used. When will this exchange stop? There's no answer to that.

It's also more correct to say he used to care about what people will say or think about how he fares in a duel or about who he was and what he believed. He was so absorbed in upkeeping a good image, considering it a primordial part of the job, but in the end, it wasn't. Now, even if they throw insults or disgusted glares, he disregards it all, he's above it, even if they think the worst of him, that doesn't change the outcome of his duels.

"And why are you suddenly so worried about my career?"

Her eyes widen at his question, he earnestly gazes right into her eyes, awaiting for an answer, a tingly, strange feeling crawling on her skin, her cheeks prickling. It's a bit intimidating, but she can't just avert her eyes, as if bound by an unbreakable spell to correspond to it. She wanted his undivided attention to talk? Well, there it is.

I can't just repeat those unbelievably toxic headlines of those magazines, can I? They never said good things about him… But what they say can't be all true, right?

[Why are you in a place like this?] she retorts, typing with trembling fingers. [In the underground.]

"Why does it matter?" he pushes more queries, she's hiding something and he is intrigued enough to wriggle it out of her now.

[I've never heard of underground duelists, I have no idea what you do here,] in fact, the underground was nothing but a spooky tale to her before she was coerced to come here. [And you even fainted the other day! Aren't you afraid you'll just pass out in the middle of a duel? Or worse?] she pauses, having a full-course shiver at the thought. [I mean, that doesn't have anything to do with me, but were you to faint again. I wouldn't know what to do.]

Here it is, the cause. His lips split apart, momentarily struck in amusement. A tad of disbelief mixed in it too.

So she was worried about that? This whole time? That's it?

From the unamused stare and raised brow she gets as response she knows it: she messed up.

With eyes squinting abashedly, her fingers unknowingly brush on her lips as she gapes, ready to pronounce many sentences, foiled by the impossibility of it. The way she eagerly looked at him with flickering eyes, it was endearing, her emotions written all over her face, her brows twisted in embarrassment, dreading his reaction and a tad disconcerted for being so forward in a misleading manner.

[Don't get me wrong, if you're in trouble, I'll be in trouble too since you're paying my debt.]

Is she scared of him? It seems their first meeting did leave an everlasting impression.

Does she think I collapsed because I was starving or something? Is this why she's been pestering me with food for those last two weeks?

[And it's not like I could help you if that happens again, so don't put me in such a difficult position.]

That's really… Unexpected.

From then on, his orbs just drifted off, he didn't even pay heed to the messages she wrote next or the hectic gestures to elaborate her reasons. She's tenacious, he will give her that. Indeed he never really addressed the fainting issue, so in the end, the leeway for thought left in the air is his fault too.

Funny she of all people noticed he's lost weight, she must've been paying quite the attention to him. He snorts at the thought. Isn't she a fearless one for telling it straight into his face? Most people wouldn't dare.

It's true he has been skipping meals, neglecting his martial art training and even lacking sleep. Albeit he's aware this affects his body, the lifestyle he leads now is just an immediate adjustment to the underground demands.

Food has been tasteless, unappealing and he just can't swallow it sometimes. When he gets back from those torturing matches, he either sleeps for most part of the morning and afternoon or can't sleep at all. He postponed correcting those bad habits, or maybe he was hesitant to tackle the root of the problem. Unsurprisingly, he is passing out.

Isn't this the same as back when he was losing? If he can't manage his dueling, he'll end up failing, if anything, he should make an effort to be in his best shape. His finger draws a line over and over on his forehead.

Right. Entering this world, it's been all too recent. But it can't go on like this…

In hindsight, he doesn't even know for how long he was out cold that day and clearly Rie couldn't have asked for help via normal means like a call, was she afraid back then? It's not hard to portray it. Yet this sensation reminds him of how Shou, Asuka and Fubuki persistently sent him messages and tried to call, interactions he chose to postpone for the time being. He could also just shun her, for that matter.

A heavy, disappointed sigh breaks his chain of thought, Rie's shoulders slump while typing a last message before leaving his phone atop the table so he can read it.

[Forget it. It was rude of me to say that. I apologize for upsetting you.]

In a thoughtless gesture, she closes her left fist, rubbing it in a clockwise motion atop her chest line. The apologetic gesture is familiar.

Lifting and dragging her padded chair along, she secludes herself at the other half of the room, startled as she's spoken to:

"You're not inconveniencing me, Rie," he turns his face at such an angle she can't even see more than his hair covering his profile. "You do have a point. But know that you'll end up putting on some weight yourself if you keep bringing in food."

A shocked gasp burst out of her lips. Looking at herself closely, pinching her belly, maybe she did get a bit fatter after so many sweets and snacks, her eyes widening at the realization.

Wait. Is he making fun of me again?

At least he answered this time, this counts as an answer, right? She slides her fingers through her hair, messing it as she runs over her scalp. This is so perplexing, but at least he's not having those angered frowns stamped on his face. How in the world was she supposed to go about this? All her flustering comes out in an internal scream after she sinks her head into her own palms.

Ryo is prideful, insufferably so. On top of that he's just ignoring other people's existence when it's not of his interest, he didn't even look at his hardcore fans who had big signboards with his name and nice messages from what she watched on TV. How do you even start a conversation with someone like that when he has that almighty piercing glare?

Not being understood, I can relate to that, but how can he just breeze through it like nothing? This doesn't make sense… Is he even human?

Why did she have to be so meddlesome? It's unlike her, but those magazines, the underground and that duel on TV, she can't wrap her head around it. Maybe he was right and being nice won't get her anywhere, she already lost a job and got in trouble for a lifetime. He's an adult too, unlike Haru, so he should be taking care of himself. Even so, it felt wrong to just let him be.

He observes for a brief moment, his eyes blinking back to the table head, she forsook the cake slices there. Inconspicuously, he indulges himself with a forkful of it, it would be a waste not to after all those efforts.

It's too sweet.

Scoffing, he closes his eyes to savor the moment, an image of Rie portrayed in his mind, the faintest smile blooming on his lips.

At the fourth floor of a building,

The alarm clock rings repeatedly, Ryo slides a hand through his hair, sitting up on the bed in the half-dim room, a faint clarity coming from the glass window to the left of his bed. Stopping the annoying sound at once with a finger tap, the white blankets hurled away from him with a single move. The screen shows 5 AM sharp as he lands his feet on the freezing wooden flooring.

The layout of the new apartment is very different, but the furniture is similar. From the bedroom big enough to fit his bed and a chest of drawers, now in a separate room from his study table at the room across; he walks down the small corridor encased by beige walls towards the bathroom, across from a small kitchen.

The gas stovetop and part of a counter of the kitchen are reflected on the openable mirror above the white sink, his image flashing out when he fetches a couple necessities from the shelves behind the mirror.

Soon enough, he's dressed in a grey set of jogging pants and hoodie, he hammers his toes on the floor, adjusting his running sneakers. Swinging the keyring around his finger before stashing it into the large pocket of his jacket, he walks out to the main corridor of the place, from which he can see at least 3 other doors to different apartments, jogging downstairs and leaving the four-story residential building which is surrounded by differently sized buildings and a garden of trees, starting to run a course he thought of just yesterday. The daylight isn't there yet, instead, there's a lightened blue sky missing the sun and stale clouds sparsely spread.

Why am I doing this again?

For some reason that bothersome feeling of dissatisfaction, like water dripping in a single spot inside his head, has taken over him ever since Rie questioned him. He figures the best way to change the airs would be to put in some exercising back into his routine, the martial arts training too, he can't call himself heir of anything if he ditches a fundamental part of his Cyber Style, after all.

When he goes to the underground he can't afford to do this unless he skips sleep fully, but on days like this when he doesn't have any of those excruciatingly vain duels, it's possible to take a break.

As he runs through the sidewalks, some cars glide by, the traffic slowly increases as time goes, until he reaches a main bridge connecting to the large concrete jungle.

Walking on the sidelines, he stops to look into the sunrise, the orange and bright yellow mingling in with the blue amidst some clouds. How long has it been since he's endorsed into such activities?

The car tires sliding smoothly on the pavement in the background are nothing more than ambience as he listens to the winds whooshing near his ears, the whole horizon reflected on his gaze, he pulls down the hoodie, the wind brushing gently on his face.

The sight reminds him of the duel academy, he'd also wake up early and have a matinal walk to the lighthouse, watch dawn unfold and come back to the dorm by breakfast time. A scoff escapes his lips. Those days are over, but it doesn't mean he should get rid of all his good habits even if he's more of a night creature now.

To think a mute girl of all people would be the one to convey this message, it's ironic. Back to his run he takes the pathway towards the city, stopping by a supermarket on the way. Instead of skipping meals, he should cook some food for himself too, especially if he intends to increase his weight a bit. If he just trains and eats nothing, he will be just bones by the end of it.

Does she like bulkier types, I wonder…?

Holding an apple onto his palm, he stares at it idly, in deep thought. The smell of the fruits on the stands reminds him of that perfume she had when he first met her in the locker room.

It doesn't matter.

A smirk forms, he shakes off his head, dismissive of those trivial questions.

I'm doing this anyway…

Some people whisper from behind him, disrupting his inner monologue. He casts but a narrowed glance at them, it's enough to make them jolt in fear and hurry his steps. He's used to those unwanted gazes by now, and to the unsavory comments too. Not that he cares.

Going out of the supermarket with a plastic bag dangling from his arm, he continues into the city, his reflection moving on the glass showcases of the stores, more and more chattering swirling in the air, some of it directed at him. It's a good sign. Since his face has been appearing more on the media, more people remember him, not like any of them dares approach, though, they're too afraid for it even when he doesn't hide his face.

His steps come to a sudden halt when a familiar object appears into his field of view: a variety of electronics, or more accurately, of cellphones. He turns around fully paying attention to it in a pensive stance. An image of Rie crosses his mind, his lips unglue slightly.

The lights inside are off and the place is closed, a faint smile dawdles on his face, stamped there as he continues his way into the city.