The warmth of their laughter swells around him, but it only makes the shadow in Ryoma's chest heavier. At last, he bows to them, forcing a smile.
"Thank you, everyone… but I should go. I need a shower. This sweat stinks worse than Shinzo-san's catch."
The room bursts into laughter again, Shinzo shouting in mock outrage. Shimizu claps Ryoma on the back, hard enough to rattle his ribs.
"Fine, fine. But don't you dare lose. We've already staked our pride on you, boy."
Ryoma nods once, slipping out into the dusk. The door shuts behind him, muffling the laughter.
He said he needed a shower. But at home, he doesn't shower immediately. He strips the soaked hoodie from his shoulders and stares at the mirror.
The reflection is pitiful. It's a body worn thin by hunger. But worse than the sight of himself is what it drags back; how he let Serrano almost hit his mother and plant the fear in her.
