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[This gray, snowy day finds Ryuhou sitting out on his porch step, a note held in his hands. His eyes scan over the words several times as though he can't believe them.
Finally, he stands, crumpling the paper in his fist, stalking toward the edge of town. He doesn't seem to notice the cold as the wind whips his thin uniform jacket around him.]
I want to... hit something. That's more Kazuma's style, but now I understand why. I'm going to explode if I don't.
Finally, he stands, crumpling the paper in his fist, stalking toward the edge of town. He doesn't seem to notice the cold as the wind whips his thin uniform jacket around him.]
I want to... hit something. That's more Kazuma's style, but now I understand why. I'm going to explode if I don't.
