The metal doors had shut, but her words lingered like smoke.
"Next month, let's see who still stands."
Ryker didn't move. Not at first.
His fingers still gripped the half-eaten fruit, but it tasted like nothing now.
He stared straight ahead, past the scattered prisoners, past the rust-stained walls—his mind replaying the entire exchange like a loop refusing to break.
"...She knew my name," he muttered.
Kujo, standing beside him, folded his arms. "Of course she did. Everyone knows your name now."
"No," Ryker said softly, almost like he was thinking out loud. "It wasn't that she knew it. It was how she said it."
"Like a threat?"
"Like a promise."
Kujo stayed quiet for a moment, then gave a dry laugh. "Well... looks like you found your match. Or maybe your mirror."
Ryker stood slowly, stretching his neck. It cracked.
"I don't like games I don't control," he said.
Kujo raised an eyebrow. "Then you better start reading her playbook."
Ryker turned toward the gate, the memory of Mayumi's smile still etched behind his eyes.
"Monsters like us..."
She saw through him. Or thought she did. That alone was rare enough to feel uncomfortable.
But what stuck wasn't just the way she walked or the way the yard had gone silent when she appeared.
It was the feeling she left behind.
Like she had planted a seed in his mind—a warning... or a challenge.
And Ryker never ignored a challenge.
He took a deep breath and threw the leftover fruit into the trash.
"She called me a monster," he said.
Kujo smirked. "She meant it as a compliment."
Ryker cracked his knuckles.
"Then I'll return the favor."
In the women's prison yard, the sky was gray—but Mayumi stood as if lit by her own sun.
The air had shifted ever since she returned. Whispers followed her like shadows, and none dared look too long into her eyes.
She sat alone on a cracked bench, her long coat fluttering lightly in the breeze. Her hands rested calmly on her knees, fingers tapping a silent rhythm.
"So... he really won," she whispered to herself.
She smiled—but it wasn't one of joy. It was a quiet, dangerous smile. The kind that hides pain behind purpose.
"Ryker Tensai…"
She said his name the way one tastes a sharp fruit—bitter, electric, but somehow addictive.
Inside her mind, the past played like a broken record. Blood. Screams. A promise made in chains.
She had seen people like Ryker before. Broken heroes pretending to be villains. Monsters who learned to wear masks just to survive.
But this one was different.
"He's not wearing a mask," she murmured. "He became it."
"Mayumi," a girl nearby called cautiously, "you okay?"
Mayumi turned, slowly. Her eyes were gentle—but there was something cold just beneath the surface.
"I'm always okay," she said. "But I wonder if he is."
The girl frowned. "You mean Ryker?"
Mayumi didn't answer. She just stood, brushing dust from her pants, gaze fixed on the outer wall—as if she could see straight into the men's prison.
"Let's see what kind of monster you are," she thought. "And if you're the one who breaks first... or if I am."
Then she walked off, her steps steady, but her heart full of quiet thunder.
The halls were silent. Just the sound of rain tapping on rusted bars.
Inside Cell 14, two women sat cross-legged on thin blankets. The moonlight barely touched the floor, casting long shadows that danced when they breathed.
Mayumi leaned against the wall, one knee drawn up, a cigarette burning slowly between her fingers—though she never smoked it.
Across from her sat Hana, her cellmate. A quiet girl with tired eyes and too many secrets in her voice.
"You've been thinking about him all day," Hana said softly.
Mayumi didn't look up. She let the smoke curl upward, her voice flat.
"I think about many things."
"But only one name keeps slipping out of your mouth," Hana pressed. "Ryker."
Mayumi smirked but didn't deny it.
"He shook the men's prison in a week," she said. "That's not normal."
"Neither are you."
That made Mayumi laugh—a sharp, low sound. She tapped ash into a cup, finally looking at Hana.
"Do you want to know what scares me?"
Hana nodded.
"It's not Ryker's strength. It's not his mind. It's the way he moves… like nothing touches him anymore. Like pain is a friend, and regret is a habit."
Silence.
Then Hana whispered, "You think you'll face him one day?"
Mayumi's eyes turned distant. Cold. But somewhere behind them… warmth flickered.
"I think… we were meant to," she said. "Two broken pieces from the same shattered thing."
"Do you want to fight him?"
Mayumi stood, walking to the barred window. Her fingers touched the metal, cold against her skin.
"No," she said. "I want to understand him. And maybe… maybe I want to see if he still has something human left inside."
Hana watched her in silence, then asked:
"And if he doesn't?"
Mayumi turned, that dangerous smile playing on her lips again.
"Then I'll be the one who reminds him."
The wind howled through the window. And for the first time in a long while, Mayumi felt something close to fire in her chest.
The room was dim, a single flickering bulb casting shadows on the cracked walls. The silence was comfortable—almost like a familiar blanket after a storm.
Ryker lay on his cot, one hand behind his head, the other spinning a worn coin between his fingers.
Kujo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.
"Wow," Kujo said, voice half-teasing. "You became No. 2 in just two weeks. You trying to break records or something?"
Ryker didn't smile. He just kept spinning the coin, eyes half-lidded, mind clearly elsewhere.
"It doesn't matter."
"What? Being No. 2 doesn't matter?" Kujo asked.
Ryker finally stopped the coin. His voice dropped.
"What matters… What is my sister's doing."
Kujo tilted his head. He had never seen Ryker talk about family. Not like this.
"You really love her that much?" he asked, softly this time.
Ryker didn't hesitate.
"More than anything in this world."
Silence.
Then Kujo nodded. "That's rare… a guy like you, carrying something that pure in a place like this."
Ryker looked at him, his expression unreadable—but behind those calm eyes, there was a storm of memory, pain, and purpose.
"I became No. 2 so I could move. But I'll tear this whole place apart… if it means I can see her again."
The bulb flickered.
Kujo didn't speak anymore. He just sat down beside Ryker, both of them lost in the quiet weight of what couldn't be said aloud.
The wind rattled the old windowpane.
Hinata Tensai sat curled up in the corner of the couch, a blanket over her shoulders. Outside, Tokyo blurred behind a sheet of gentle rain. Inside, the TV played softly, but she wasn't watching. Her eyes were lost—far away from this room, far away from the rain, lost in a memory only she could see.
Miss Mai Yoshida gently brushed Hinata's hair. She didn't speak. She knew better than to interrupt when Hinata got this way.
"He hasn't sent anything," Hinata whispered, voice barely above the rain. "Not even a letter."
Mai's hand paused. "He's probably doing everything he can to protect you. You know your brother."
Hinata nodded slowly.
"Ryker always promised he'd never leave me behind... but now he's locked away in that place, and I—"
Her voice cracked.
She wiped her eyes quickly, pretending it didn't happen.
"...I'm scared," she whispered. "Not of being alone. I'm scared of forgetting what his voice sounded like."
Mai hugged her gently, letting Hinata rest her head on her shoulder.
"You won't forget," Mai said softly. "And you're not alone."
Outside the room, Sol Yoshida stood quietly near the hallway, listening. Celica beside him, silent. Neither of them had the courage to walk in just yet. They had seen Hinata smile, laugh, even act strong—but this quiet, fragile version of her was something else. Something raw.
Sol clenched his fist.
"Ryker… whatever you're doing in that prison… hurry."
Back inside, Hinata slowly closed her eyes.
And for a moment, she could almost hear her brother's voice calling her name through the rain.