[Even in spending ten years apart, he'd still felt some sort of estranged, distant connection. Much like the pains of a phantom limb after the real one had been removed, Akira had so clear of an impression of Ryo and who he was that he'd practically half-imagined his reaction and response to nearly every event, either momentous or largely irrelevant, that'd studded the road he'd traveled all of his life. But not even this projected version of his friend could stand up to what he'd learned he'd become - a professor by age sixteen, hosting a webshow which featured star-studded guests and international renown. Ever since his mom had texted him with a link to the recording of one, accompanied with the question, isn't this your little friend from years ago?, he'd found that he'd sold Ryo short. No matter what others thought or perceived, Ryo had always been incredible and exemplary to him, and he'd clung to a kind of personal ownership over his friend's fame while watching bits and pieces of his webshow from time to time, regardless of whether or not he understood anything else about it.
It wasn't perfect, though. It'd never been, and sixteen years on planet Earth was long enough for anyone (hopefully) to find out that sailing was never perfectly smooth, that there would be rolling waves and oppressive storms and unexpected obstacles no matter which relationship it was. From minute instances when they were kids to when he'd determinedly pointed a gun at Miki to what'd happened in the track arena, he was occasionally reminded that regardless of how often their plans and goals intertwined, there were often parts that diverged to sometimes explosive degrees.
Then it was simply about finding a way to get back to a path that they could walk together.
He isn't sure if it's necessary yet. The aggravation and vague feeling of hurt within him might be something that scabbed over rather than fester. He'd just have to wait and see.
Akira nods. In that promise, he places implicit trust. There's no one else on the planet that could use the same amount of energy and discover more than what Ryo could, if given similar means and an identical timeframe. It also takes a weight off of Akira's shoulders; a detective he was not, and he'd prefer to wait until he was called in when needed.
His eyes follow Ryo as he steps closer, peering down at him through his eyelashes. He doesn't need to be reminded of what that promise is, though the reaffirmation makes him smile, a single huff of a laugh catching in his throat.] With what we could get done back home, I'm sure getting to the bottom of this will be no problem.
[The faint shade of levity fades after a moment, though, and Akira's tone settles back into something that stands to be just about as serious as he could stand to be.]
Just know how much you can handle on your own. Call me in as soon as you need me.
[Or as soon as you need him to crack a skull or seventeen.]
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It wasn't perfect, though. It'd never been, and sixteen years on planet Earth was long enough for anyone (hopefully) to find out that sailing was never perfectly smooth, that there would be rolling waves and oppressive storms and unexpected obstacles no matter which relationship it was. From minute instances when they were kids to when he'd determinedly pointed a gun at Miki to what'd happened in the track arena, he was occasionally reminded that regardless of how often their plans and goals intertwined, there were often parts that diverged to sometimes explosive degrees.
Then it was simply about finding a way to get back to a path that they could walk together.
He isn't sure if it's necessary yet. The aggravation and vague feeling of hurt within him might be something that scabbed over rather than fester. He'd just have to wait and see.
Akira nods. In that promise, he places implicit trust. There's no one else on the planet that could use the same amount of energy and discover more than what Ryo could, if given similar means and an identical timeframe. It also takes a weight off of Akira's shoulders; a detective he was not, and he'd prefer to wait until he was called in when needed.
His eyes follow Ryo as he steps closer, peering down at him through his eyelashes. He doesn't need to be reminded of what that promise is, though the reaffirmation makes him smile, a single huff of a laugh catching in his throat.] With what we could get done back home, I'm sure getting to the bottom of this will be no problem.
[The faint shade of levity fades after a moment, though, and Akira's tone settles back into something that stands to be just about as serious as he could stand to be.]
Just know how much you can handle on your own. Call me in as soon as you need me.
[Or as soon as you need him to crack a skull or seventeen.]