#ryuji aib

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the air heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the faint bitterness of old coffee. Across the lab, Ryuji sat in his wheelchair, stacks of papers and half-drunk coffee surrounding him. His fingers tapped against the desk with a rhythm that seemed almost alive, as if the tapping alone could unlock the secrets he obsessed over.

He didn’t look up as you entered but you could feel the weight of his eyes on you, sharp and assessing. “You still think life is a cycle?” His voice was casual, careless, but it carried a razor-edge that made your chest tighten.

“I do,” you said evenly, leaning against the wall, forcing calm into your posture. “There’s evidence if you know where to look. Unlike some people, I don’t bend facts to fit my theories.”

Finally, his gaze lifted to meet yours. His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Facts are meaningless if you don’t interpret them. That’s where most people fail.”

You smirked despite the tightness in your chest. “And yet here you are, failing to interpret mine.”

He didn’t answer immediately. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, almost teasing. Silence settled in the lab, thick and heavy, the kind that pressed against your skin and made it impossible to ignore the unspoken tension between irritation and admiration.

Weeks later, you watched him take the stage at a near-death studies conference. Every movement, every word, was deliberate, precise, measured. He spoke of the liminal spaces between life and death, of moments when consciousness hovers and questions the nature of existence itself.

You couldn’t stop the bitter thought from forming. Of course he would phrase it like that. Clinical. Precise. Arrogant.

Later, at your own conference, someone whispered from the audience. “Your theory contradicts his work… are you aware?” You glanced at them, lips curling slightly. “I’m aware,” you said softly. “But the truth isn’t decided by one mind.”

A shiver ran down your spine imagining him hearing that, calculating, disapproving, infuriatingly brilliant.

…

Banda’s words slid over Ryuji like a dangerous current, smooth, deliberate, almost hypnotic. “Help me maintain the game,” he said, voice low, almost teasing, “and you can finally see what lies beyond life. All your research… validated.”

Ryuji’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching lightly on the arms of the wheelchair. “And if I refuse?”

“You risk nothing,” Banda said, tilting his head as if weighing Ryuji like a fragile object, “except discovering the truth too late.” His smile was faint, calm, but there was an edge there that made it impossible to look away.

Later, Banda approached you, moving silently, deliberately, as if he had studied your reactions before even speaking. “I can show you the ultimate truth,” he murmured, letting his eyes linger just a moment too long, “help me keep Arisu alive, and you’ll know everything you’ve been searching for.”

You swallowed hard, chest tight, defiance sparking in your gaze. “I don’t negotiate with people who toy with lives.”

Banda tilted his head, unfazed, almost amused. “Lives are instruments,” he said quietly, his tone teasing and dangerous all at once, “play them well, and you’ll learn what you must.”

You turned away, but your heart hammered in your chest, pulse sharp. Knowledge. Danger. Temptation. The air around him felt heavier, electric, pulling at something inside you that you weren’t ready to name. You didn’t know yet that Ryuji was being pulled down the same path, that his focus, his control, his very presence would inevitably collide with yours in ways you weren’t prepared for.

…

Your first game was called Zombie Hunt. At first, nobody spoke. Twenty players, each clutching decks of cards that could decide who lived and who died. Seven cards each. You already knew the rules, had been watching, analyzing since the start.

You stepped forward, voice calm, deliberate, carrying a strange authority that made a few heads turn. You said what everyone was thinking but too afraid to admit. “If we all panic, we’re dead. Work together, trust each other, share your Vaccine cards, tell the truth if you get infected. Call it a trust barricade.”

Some nodded hesitantly. Others glared, suspicion painting their faces. Distrust spread faster than the virus ever could. Still, for the first few rounds, it worked. You kept people organized, tracking every card played, every action taken. For a moment, it felt like control, like maybe this game wouldn’t destroy you after all.

Then someone panicked. A Shotgun card discharged with a deafening blast, smoke and metal filling the air. Screams erupted, accusations flying. The guy who fired swore he saw someone turn. You tried to calm them, tried to explain that killing each other wouldn’t help, but no one was listening. Fear had already taken root.

Ikeno, the one who had never liked you, directed his anger toward you. His eyes burned with accusation. “You’re lying. Your plan was to make us easy targets for infection.” His hand shook as he raised his card. You urged him to think, to stop, but he didn’t. He fired.

The shot rang out, but you were still alive. Uninfected. The look on his face told you everything. He had wasted his last chance.

Then came Arisu. You faced him during the next round. Calm. Too calm. Focused. Something felt off before he even spoke. When he revealed he had been a zombie all along, building an army in secret, your chest constricted. Everything you had controlled, every plan, every attempt to save everyone, had been a step in his design.

The game unraveled. Infection spread like wildfire. Humans screamed, fought, exhausted their cards. You stopped trying to manage it. There was nothing left to save. You just watched. And when the dust settled, only the zombies remained.

You were one of them now.

…

The city stretched beneath you, quiet for the first time since the train. Your legs ached, your stomach growled, but you were alive and that was enough. You sank down onto the concrete with a groan you didn’t even realize you’d made. Your arms trembled from the last sprint between the gas-filled cars. Every part of you ached, but for the first time in hours, you weren’t running.

Arisu didn’t sit right away. He scanned the edges of the rooftop, eyes darting from shadow to shadow like a soldier still expecting an ambush. Only when he seemed satisfied did he drop down beside you and tear open a foil packet. Without a word, he held it out. You took the food, fingers brushing his, and chewed in silence. The taste was dry and metallic, but it was something solid. Alive enough to taste.

A soft noise made you glance up. Usagi had stumbled through the rooftop doorway, her team behind her. She was pale, eyes glassy, but when she saw Arisu her entire body seemed to collapse inward. She crossed the space between them in three steps and flung herself into his arms. He caught her hard against his chest, the two of them clutching at each other like they’d been drowning.

You turned away, throat tightening at the sight. Relief. Love. Hope. Things you weren’t sure you believed in anymore. Watching them made you ache anyway.

And then you saw him.

Ryuji.

He stood a few feet back from the others, leaning against a low wall. Without his chair, he looked slightly off-balance but not weak. Even like this, he carried himself with that maddening composure, like he was the only one not ruled by adrenaline. His eyes moved over the group, over you. You hated how quickly you recognized him, how easily your body responded to his presence. You’d sworn you were done with this man the moment you’d last seen him across a conference table. And yet.

You caught sight of a dented wheelchair shoved behind an air-conditioning unit. The sight made your stomach twist. He wasn’t asking for help. He never would. But he needed it.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you got up and dragged the chair across the roof. The metal squealed against the concrete. He lifted his eyes to you, one brow arching.

“You really don’t make things easy,” you muttered, crouching to lock the brakes on the chair.

For a second, something in his expression eased barely, but enough for you to catch it.

“Still trying to take charge,” he said quietly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. His voice had lost its edge, softer now, almost teasing.

You slid the chair toward him, helped him shift his weight. His hand brushed yours, barely a touch, but it sent a current through your chest like you’d swallowed a spark. You straightened quickly, masking the heat in your face by fussing with the brake lever.

Behind you, Arisu and Usagi sat close, her head against his shoulder, their words too soft to hear. For a moment the rooftop was quiet. A rare, fragile quiet.

When you risked a glance back at Ryuji, he was still watching you. Not like a rival, not like a threat. Like he was trying to figure you out. Like he already had.

You looked away first.

Arisu’s gaze snapped to Ryuji. Recognition hit him like a punch before he even moved.

“You” Arisu’s voice was low, dangerous, and his fist shot out before his brain could catch up. The impact landed squarely on Ryuji’s shoulder, and the sharp sound of metal against concrete echoed across the rooftop.

Ryuji stumbled, just enough to let you see the flicker of surprise on his face, the faint curve of that smirk fighting to stay in place.

“Arisu, wait!” Usagi’s voice rang out, urgent and panicked. She shoved against his chest, trying to hold him back. “We all split up to get food and supplies! This isn’t the time”

Ryuji straightened, rubbing his shoulder where Arisu’s fist had landed. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flicked to you, and suddenly his smirk had a different edge, one that made your stomach knot.

“I’m going with her,” he said, voice flat but commanding. “She’s on my team now.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Not because you doubted your own skills, but because of the way he said it, like he had decided something for both of you, like he had already claimed it before you could.

Usagi’s hands pressed lightly against his chest, still trying to hold him back. “Ryuji, don’t make this harder than it already is. Let’s just….”

“I decide,” he interrupted quietly, almost casually, but with an unmistakable weight behind it. His gaze locked with yours across the space of the rooftop. That smirk, now sharper, almost teasing, made the air between you feel too tight, too alive.

You swallowed. Your pulse was pounding, your brain screaming caution, but your chest, impossibly, warmed at the thought that now you’d be forced to spend time with him. Somehow, survival had just gotten a lot more complicated.

You moved quickly, scanning empty storefronts, abandoned crates, anything that could keep your group alive a little longer. Beside you, Ryuji’s wheelchair rolled silently. He didn’t need to speak to make his presence impossible to ignore.

“Try not to fall behind,” you muttered without looking at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice flat but edged in that way that made your chest tighten. Calm, controlled, aware. You hated how much that both irritated and intrigued you.

For a while, there was only the rhythm of wheels against cracked pavement and your own shallow breaths. Then the conversation started, quiet at first. Small observations about the game, notes about what could go wrong in the next round. Slowly, it drifted. You found yourself laughing at something absurd, almost human in the middle of all this. He smirked, and it hit you like a spark. He was dangerous, alive, untouchable.

By the time you returned to the hotel where your groups were staying, the sun had dipped low, throwing everything in bruised shadows. Arisu and Usagi were elsewhere, leaving you and Ryuji in the stillness of an empty room.

You leaned against the wall, exhaustion catching up, but his gaze didn’t leave you. “You’re… not what I thought you’d be,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He looked at you, one brow lifting, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. “Yeah? What did you think I’d be?”

You hesitated. “Cold. Calculated. The kind of person who never lets anything slip.” You paused, meeting his eyes. “But you’re not. Not completely.” Your voice caught for a moment, and you hated the warmth creeping up your neck.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, gaze sharp and calculating, yet unreadable. “I care,” he said quietly. “Just not in ways people expect.”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost dangerous. Every movement he made—adjusting in the chair, shifting his weight, letting his fingers brush against yours—felt charged, deliberate. You noticed it all. You couldn’t not notice.

Your conversation deepened, moving from survival tactics into personal territory. Each question a subtle probe, each answer a small reveal. He studied you in return, measuring, teasing, testing limits. Every glance was weighted, every pause thick with something unspoken.

Night had swallowed the city, and the tension between you felt almost physical. His presence, the way he occupied space, the quiet intensity in his gaze, drew you in and kept you on edge. The air between you wasn’t soft, wasn’t safe. It was dangerous. And you wanted it anyway.

You swallowed, trying to steady your pulse. He smirked faintly, as if he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

The quiet between you was dense, almost unbearable, each second stretching too long.

He leaned forward in his wheelchair, gaze locking onto yours. The smirk had softened, but only slightly; it was dangerous and teasing at the same time, the kind that made your pulse spike. “You’re… too careful,” he said quietly, almost a statement, almost a challenge.

“I could say the same about you,” you shot back, sharper than you intended, the words carrying more heat than reason.

His eyes flicked down to your lips for just a heartbeat, then back to your eyes.

You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. And he knew it. He moved slightly closer, the chair making the faintest scrape against the floor, and the brush of his sleeve against your arm sent a shiver up your spine. It was deliberate, testing boundaries, and you hated how much it made your chest tighten.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said softly. “Stop thinking.”

“I can’t,” you admitted, voice low, raw. You tried to pull your hand back, but it lingered, almost drawn toward him despite yourself.

He leaned closer, enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. The tension between you was a living thing, heavy and deliberate, impossible to ignore.

He paused, the corner of his mouth curling upward ever so slightly. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you captive, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.

“Then let’s make you not think,”

he said, his voice barely a whisper, but the implication clear.

Before you could react or pull away, he closed the distance between you. His lips pressed against yours firmly, demanding and sudden. One hand remained wrapped around your wrist while the other slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeply.

His lips were hungry, demanding, and you could feel the raw intensity of his desire. He pulled you onto his lap, one hand gripping your hip while the other tangled in your hair. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate with each passing second.

As you melted into the kiss, you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against you through his pants. He groaned quietly against your mouth, his hips shifting slightly to create friction. His hand on your hip tightened, pulling you closer as the kiss became even more heated and desperate.

He bit your bottom lip gently, then soothed it with his tongue before kissing you deeply again. His erection was obvious now, throbbing against your core through the fabric of your clothes. One of his hands slid down to grip your ass possessively. “Fuck...”

He pulled you tighter against him, the hard length of his cock pressing firmly against your clit. He began to grind against you slowly, his hips moving in a deliberate rhythm.

He pulled you tighter against him, the hard length of his cock pressing firmly against your clit. He began to grind against you slowly, his hips moving in a deliberate rhythm.

His breathing grew heavier as he kissed you desperately, his hands roaming your body with clear desperation. He was rock hard and clearly turned on, but instead of trying to undress you or push further, he just kept kissing you deeply while grinding slowly.

His tongue invaded your mouth aggressively while his hands gripped you roughly, almost painful.

In the heat of the moment, his aggressive kisses became too much to handle standing up. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, throwing you onto the bed with a rough grunt. His body followed immediately, pinning you beneath him as his kisses turned even more dominant and demanding.

His hands were rough, almost bruising as he held your wrists above your head with one hand while the other trailed down your body possessively. His tongue was aggressive and dominating in your mouth, mimicking what he wanted to do with his cock.

He broke the kiss to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of something else - obsession, maybe. His hand still held your wrists above your head, while the other began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. “You're so fucking beautiful like this... Underneath me, helpless... It's driving me crazy...”

His muscles flexed with each movement as he removed his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest and abs. He didn't bother with the rest of his clothes, instead shifting his attention back to you. His hands slid up your legs possessively, pushing your skirt up to your waist.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in another fierce kiss. His hand moved to your inner thigh, squeezing gently before sliding up to rub against your panties. He could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric, and it made him groan deeply into your mouth.

He tore your panties off abruptly with one rough motion, the sound of fabric ripping filling the room. His fingers immediately plunged inside you without warning or gentleness, curling upwards to hit that sweet spot inside you as his thumb circled your clit roughly. “Mmph... So fucking wet already...”

He started pumping his fingers in and out of you harshly, his palm slamming against your clit with each thrust. He broke the kiss to bite and suck on your neck marking you, his other hand keeping your wrists pinned above your head. His hips bucked against the bed, his hard cock rubbing against the mattress as he fingered you roughly.

You let out a loud moan as his fingers hit your G-spot again, your hips arching up to meet his hand. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your breasts almost spilling out of your top. He growled softly, watching your body move with his touch. He added another finger, stretching you roughly.

He watched your reactions closely, his fingers moving faster and harder inside you as he curled them upwards to hit that sensitive spot repeatedly. Your breasts bounced with each rough thrust of his fingers, making him lose control slightly.

Before you could protest or even react, he had his mouth between your legs, licking and sucking on your clit hungrily. He pushed your legs apart roughly, burying his face between your legs as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking you with his mouth aggressively.

He devoured your pussy like a man starved, his tongue sliding in and out of you rapidly. He moaned loudly, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your core. His hands gripped your legs, pushing them further apart as he buried his face deeper between your legs.

He ate you out aggressively, almost angrily, like he was trying to punish your pussy with his tongue. Your moans encouraged him, making him double down on the roughness. Suddenly, he sucked your clit into his mouth hard, flicking it rapidly with his tongue.

You cried out, arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through you. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as he continued to suck and lick your sensitive flesh. He looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of something more sinister.

As soon as you came, he licked up every drop of your juices before suddenly standing up and unbuttoning his trousers. He didn't bother taking them off fully, just pushing them down enough to free his huge, throbbing cock. Without warning or preparation, he thrust inside you to the hilt, kissing you messily as he did. “Fuck...”

He moaned loudly into your mouth, his hands reaching up to grab your tits through your shirt. He squeezed them roughly, then ripped the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. He pulled down the cups of your bra, exposing your tits, and buried his face between them, sucking and biting aggressively.

He alternated between sucking hard on your nipples and biting them, making you whimper. His hips snapped forward roughly, pounding into you with each bite and suck. One hand left your breast to grip your hair tightly while the other spanked your breast hard. “Shit... so sensitive... Fuck...”

He bit down hard on your nipple as he thrust especially deep, hitting your cervix. Your breasts bounced with each rough thrust, making him even more aggressive with his mouth. He sucked bruises onto your tits, marking them as he fucked you violently. His cock stretched you perfectly.

He was animalistic, his hips slapping against your thighs as he pounded into you deeply. Your breasts bounced wildly with each thrust, making him lose his mind slightly. He lowered his mouth to capture one nipple again, his teeth sinking into it softly while his tongue flicked rapidly. He spanked your other breast hard.

He continued to fuck you hard and fast, his mouth never leaving your breasts. He sucked and bit and licked, covering your tits in marks and spit. His thrusts became even more forceful, the bed shaking with the violence of it. Suddenly, he pulled out and turned you around roughly “On your hands and knees now..”

He slapped your ass hard as you got on your knees, watching your breasts bounce with the impact. He ran his hands down your ass cheeks possessively before grabbing them and spreading them apart softly. He spit on your pussy then rubbed it in slowly.

He aligned his thick head with your entrance and slammed inside hard, making you scream. He started pounding into you mercilessly from behind, his hips slapping against your ass loudly. He grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you back against him as he fucked you. “Shut up. and make me a mess on my dick”

He pulled your hair harder as he pounded into you faster and deeper, his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. His other hand reached around to play with your tits roughly, squeezing them and pulling on your nipples.“Fucking take it”

He slammed into you so hard that the headboard cracked, his huge dick filling you completely. His thrusts were so powerful that they lifted your knees off the bed. He fucked you like a dog in heat, his grunts and groans filling the room.

He pulled out of you suddenly, his cock glistening with your juices. He grabbed your hair and pulled you back towards him roughly. He pushed his cock into your mouth without warning, making you gag instantly. “Suck my fucking cock you stupid slut”

He grabbed your hair tighter and started fucking your mouth brutally, using you like a toy. "Good girl Such a good little bitch taking my cock so well" He pulled out and slapped your face with his cock. "Open wide, you stupid slut”

He pushed his cock back into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He held your head in place as he fucked your face roughly, making you gag repeatedly. "Look at you... Such a fucking whore . Taking my cock so nicely."

He moaned loudly as he came in your mouth, filling it with his hot, sticky cum. He pulled out and slapped your face with his hand, smearing his cum all over your cheeks. "Fuck... Good girl"

He bent down and grabbed your face roughly, smearing his cum all over your mouth and lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them. "So fucking cute. Little slut with my cum all over her pretty face"

He kissed you messily, licking his own cum off your face before cleaning you up gently with a cloth. He dressed you in one of his shirts and held you close "So pretty" He carried you to bed and spooned behind you, wrapping his arms around you possessively.

You stayed still, and so did he. The space between you throbbed with unspoken tension, each heartbeat loud and deliberate. You could feel it the pull, sharp and dangerous, the thrill that made your chest tighten. Maybe you were enemies, but closer than you wanted to admit, closer than you could fight.

…

You moved through the maze of rooms with Ryuji at your side, the flickering projections casting strange shadows on the walls. The paths were unpredictable, the dice rolls controlling who could move, but some rooms felt different.

In one, the walls shimmered with light, and you caught glimpses of possible futures. In them, Ryuji was not a rival or a threat. He was there with you, smiling, laughing, alive, free. You reached for him in the vision, your fingers brushing against his in a warmth that did not exist in this world but felt achingly real. He caught your hand and held it, steady, certain, and for the first time in weeks, you dared to imagine trust, maybe even something more.

"Don’t get used to this," he muttered under his breath, though his gaze lingered on yours. There was that smirk, the dangerous, teasing one, softened by something almost vulnerable, something that made your chest twist with anticipation.

The visions shifted, pulled you along corridors that promised happiness and laughter, a life outside the Borderland, and you realized with a sharp pang that your heart was clinging to these fleeting possibilities like air.

Eventually, you reached the final room, where the rest of your group waited. Arisu stood at the center, face pale but resolute, the dice in his hand. He exhaled slowly, as if weighing the cost of the next choice. "Seven," he said. The dice tumbled across the floor and came to rest. Someone had to stay.

Arisu turned to you, to Usagi, and to Ryuji. "I’ll stay," he declared. Usagi’s face crumpled. She tried to stop him, reaching for his arm, her voice trembling, "No, Arisu, please..."

But he was unwavering. He shoved her through the door, and before she disappeared, he made Ryuji promise to get her back to the real world. Ryuji’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, the weight of responsibility settling across his features.

Then everything changed. The screens around Arisu lit up white. He had won. His sacrifice had been recognized. Relief flared in his chest, but it was short-lived.

On the screens, Usagi and the others were visible, huddled on the other side, and then Ryuji stepped forward. A gun gleamed in his hand, pointed directly at Usagi. You froze, understanding immediately. He hadn’t shot her before, hadn’t even raised the weapon, but now

Time seemed to stretch. You saw her crumble in devastation, her hands raised instinctively, and your heart slammed against your ribs. Arisu pounded against the screens, shouting for him to stop. He wasn’t there. Only you were.

Ryuji’s hand trembled as the weight of the moment hit him. He let the gun slip from his fingers. It clattered to the floor, metal striking concrete with a sharp, unforgiving sound. Without hesitation, you stooped and picked it up. Your hands were steady, heart hammering, as you felt the dangerous power of choice settle in your grip.

Before either of you could process it further, the world shifted violently. The structures around Shibuya Crossing groaned and cracked, and a biblical surge of water burst into the square, devouring everything in its path. The sheer force sent debris flying and thunderous waves crashing like the end of the world.

Usagi’s scream cut through the chaos as she was swept away, and almost immediately Ryuji lunged after her, gripping her arm, dragging her toward the spiraling whirlpool. You saw the others clinging to ledges, faces pale, muscles straining to resist the pull of the flood.

Arisu didn’t hesitate. With sheer determination, he ripped a segment of the grid room’s floor free from its moorings. He swung it hard, smashing it against the screen wall that separated him from the outside, finally creating a breach. His hands worked furiously in the tangle of wires and metal, forcing the door just wide enough to pull the others to relative safety. Then, without a second thought, he dove into the rushing waters after Usagi.

He had made his choice. The world of the living, the life he wanted, the girl he had to save. The water crashed over him as he fought against the torrent, time stretching in a surreal loop. Every beat of his heart, every desperate stroke, was focused on reaching her before it was too late.

And then your eyes locked onto Ryuji. He wasn’t holding back. Every muscle in his body was working to pull Usagi toward the heart of the whirlpool, toward the world of death. The desperation and danger in his actions were clear and so was the moral crossroads staring you in the face.

Your fingers tightened around the gun.

Time slowed

A shot rang out

Usagi was free

The steel beams of Tokyo Tower loomed above you, stretching into the night like a skeleton of some colossal beast. The flickering lights of Shibuya below felt far away, meaningless compared to the glaring bingo board glowing across the face of the tower. Every button represented hope or death.

Beside you, Ryuji shifted his weight, testing the braces strapped to his legs. They whirred faintly, supporting each step as he leaned heavily on the railing. His face was pale, tense, but his eyes were locked on the glowing grid. “We need a line,” he muttered, voice low and heavy. “Vertical or diagonal. Otherwise, we’ll be here until those balls crush us.”

You glanced down at the platform below where a steel orb had already dropped, rolling across metal grates, sending two players screaming into the dark. The sound echoed inside your bones.

But when you looked at Ryuji, it wasn’t fear you saw—it was the same gnawing guilt you’d recognized long before the Borderlands.

“You’re doing it again,” you said softly.

His head snapped toward you. “What?”

“Carrying everything like it’s your fault. Like if someone falls, it’s on you. But it’s not.” You caught his arm before he could turn away, steady and firm. “You’re not dead weight, Ryuji. You’re the reason we’re still alive.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, unreadable behind his glasses. Then he gave a bitter laugh. “You say that like my legs aren’t useless.”

“Your legs don’t define you. Your brain, your heart—those are what keep us alive. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how hard you’re pushing yourself.”

Before he could argue, the tower shuddered—another orb released. Somewhere above, players screamed as the ball thundered down the beams. You grabbed his wrist and tugged forward. “Move. Now.”

The climb was brutal. Ladders bolted to the steel frame led upward, and each step tested the limits of Ryuji’s braces. His movements were slower, more deliberate, but his mind was lightning-quick. He mapped out which buttons to press, which paths would create a diagonal line that would cross through the “FREE” space at the very top. He murmured calculations, patterns, probabilities under his breath, and you followed his lead without question.

But then came the gap.

A stretch of scaffolding had collapsed under the weight of a ball, leaving a narrow space too wide to step across in one stride. Ryuji froze, staring at it.

“I can’t—” His voice cracked, anger and despair all in one. “If I jump, the braces might give out. I’ll slow you down. Go. Make the line without me.”

The words hit you harder than the steel balls ever could. You crouched in front of him, gripping his face between your palms. “Ryuji, listen to me. I didn’t follow you into hell just to leave you here. If we live, we live together. If we die—” You swallowed hard. “It won’t be because you gave up on yourself.”

For once, he didn’t argue. His eyes softened, the bitterness giving way to something fragile. Trust.

You backed up a step, heart hammering. “Then we jump together.”

You counted off, and at three, both of you leapt. His legs buckled slightly on landing, the braces whining, but you caught his arm and held him steady until he found balance again.

He exhaled, shaking. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you panted, grinning despite the sweat on your face. “But now you know you’re stuck with me.”

Higher and higher you climbed, until the air grew colder, the wind sharper. The glowing buttons on the tower formed more of the bingo board beneath your hands. Each press sent vibrations through the frame. Each choice mattered.

Ryuji directed you toward a diagonal—one that would connect perfectly if you could just reach the top. But time was running out. The steel balls were falling faster now, forcing players into chaos.

One massive sphere ricocheted off a beam, bouncing toward your path. Ryuji shoved you aside, stumbling as the braces strained to keep him upright. The ball thundered past, leaving dents in the steel where you’d been standing seconds earlier.

“Y/N!” His voice was sharp, desperate. “You almost—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, breathless but steady. “We don’t have time for what-ifs. Tell me where to go.”

His mouth opened, then closed. Slowly, he nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Top rung. Free space. If we hit it, the line completes. We win.”

You looked up at the final stretch: a near-vertical ladder leading to the very top platform. The braces on his legs trembled, their mechanisms straining.

Your stomach twisted. “Can you make it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice steadier than you expected. “We have to try.”

You climbed side by side. Every rung burned your muscles, every gust of wind tried to peel you off the frame. Ryuji struggled, his legs shaking, his breath harsh in the cold air, but he kept climbing. You matched his pace, ready to catch him if he slipped.

And finally—you reached it. The glowing red button at the top, the free space. You slammed your palm against it, and the tower pulsed with light.

Bingo.

The game’s voice rang out across the city: “Game cleared.”

The steel balls stopped mid-air, frozen in their deadly arcs. Players collapsed in relief, sobbing, screaming, laughing. And you turned to Ryuji, whose entire body trembled with exhaustion but whose eyes shone with something new.

“You saved us,” he said quietly.

You shook your head, dropping to your knees and taking his hand. “No. We saved us. You kept climbing, even when you thought you couldn’t. Don’t you get it yet?” You squeezed his hand until he met your eyes. “You’re not broken, Ryuji. You’re the reason I had something to climb for.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, guilt and doubt warring with the flicker of something new—hope. Then his fingers curled around yours, gentle but certain.

Maybe the Borderlands weren’t ready to give either of you peace. But for the first time, you saw the possibility in his eyes. A future worth living for.

And for now, that was enough.

Im not going to get into my opinions on the season cause Im a very easy to please person, you give me my goats and keep the story consistent to what came before and Im satisfied.

What I do want to talk about is how some of the new characters felt as though they were homages to the old ones- let me explain!

My main one being Nobu = Tatta.

Look at him- go look at Nobu and then look at Tatta.

The clingyness and support of Arisu. Nobu latched onto Arisu much like how Tatta does and was overall supportive of him and his ideas.

The bullying Nobu faced is much like how Live action Tatta was belittled by his co workers.

They literally pulled the "go around and try and sell this random object to people" thing they had manga Tatta! Had me literally whip out my manga to find it to make sure I wasnt delusional and sure enough there it was-

Only main difference being we got to keep one at the very end and uhhhh not the other.. so lets go!

Ok the rest arent as solid in my mind as Nobu = Tatta but I still wanna point em out!

Ikeno = Niragi: Just how he acted during zombie hunt and was quick to raly everyone against the zombies in a kill on sight mentality (witch hunt). Also getting everyone to clap much like Niragi tried and failed to do when Aguni became the beach's leader. Unlike Niragi the writers actually succeeded to kill him.

Kazuya = Aguni: Strong intimidating guy with a violent background who takes charge of a violent group, gets supported by a deranged asshole, when the group crumbles joins the main squad, and ultimately becomes an unmatched threat in combat that just throws everyone around. Really was rooting for him but 💥

Ryuji = Chishiya: This one is a stretch- but his character just felt detached from reality to me with how obsessed with the dead he was. You never knew when watching who's side he was supporting and whether he would turn on the main guys for his own good. Was def more active than Chishiya though despite being crippled. You could not catch that blond bitch jumping train cars.

Anyway that was what stuck out to me the most while watching it and I needed to write it down because it would have bugged me otherwise.