Silent Corridors

In the silent corridors of the Institute, where shadows seemed to shift with each step, Ryo found himself unexpectedly standing beside Aya. She was waiting near the edge of the courtyard, looking out over the trimmed gardens, seemingly deep in thought. He hadn't expected to run into her here, much less on a rare, unscheduled evening when most students were either in their rooms or in the study halls.

"Ryo," she greeted, her voice soft yet clear. A faint, almost reluctant smile curved her lips, but Ryo noted the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Aya," he replied, his tone neutral, matching the evenness in his expression. His gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though he were studying her with the same detachment he reserved for the rest of the Institute's mysteries. There was always a calm about her, but he could sense something different tonight. "Did you want something?"

She glanced down, hesitating as if searching for words. "I... wasn't sure if you'd be here." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But somehow, I'm glad you are."

Ryo regarded her for a moment, not responding, waiting for her to continue. Aya had always had a habit of saying things that left others wondering about her intent. He knew that words often held more meaning with her, layered as they were with emotions he found difficult to fully grasp. Yet, it wasn't his place to pry—not unless it was necessary.

Finally, she let out a soft laugh. "You really don't give anything away, do you?"

"Should I?" His question was direct, with no hint of teasing or warmth. He simply wanted to understand.

Aya's smile wavered, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "Maybe not. I just thought... I thought you might want to spend some time together. Away from everything else." She tilted her head, studying him, as though hoping he'd reveal a flicker of interest.

"Time together?" Ryo repeated, not entirely grasping what she meant. He wasn't unused to company, but this request was different. More personal. The usual analyses, calculations, and strategies that filled his mind seemed useless now. Aya's request was... straightforward, and he wasn't sure how to react.

"Yes." She gave a small, reassuring nod, as if explaining it to herself as much as to him. "I thought, maybe, we could just take a break from the missions, the Institute, the... pressures." She let her words hang, waiting.

Ryo considered her offer, assessing its potential impact on his goals and the strategy he'd set for himself. But he couldn't deny that, for whatever reason, Aya's company didn't entirely disrupt his focus. He often found himself analyzing people from a distance, observing and cataloging their strengths, weaknesses, and ambitions. But with Aya, it felt different. Her intentions weren't as easy to compartmentalize.

He gave a slight nod. "If that's what you want."

For a brief moment, her expression softened, and she looked almost relieved. "It is. Come with me." She motioned toward a quiet pathway that led away from the main buildings, winding around the gardens toward a small, secluded bench surrounded by flowering trees.

They walked in silence, and though Ryo was usually comfortable with silence, he was aware of her presence in a way he hadn't been with others. She didn't speak, and neither did he, yet her steps aligned with his as if she knew the rhythm he set. She finally sat on the bench, leaving a space beside her, looking at him expectantly.

Ryo took the seat, the cool night air and the faint scent of flowers unfamiliar, but not entirely unwelcome. Aya leaned back, her gaze wandering over the night sky, as if studying something distant and far-off. "Do you ever think about what you'd be doing if you weren't here?"

"No." His answer was immediate, as if she'd asked him something as simple as his age. "I don't see the point."

Aya chuckled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I suppose that makes sense. You're... focused. Always. It's one of the things I respect about you."

Ryo glanced at her, intrigued but uncertain why she would respect him for something as basic as focus. "You respect that?"

"Yes." She looked at him, her eyes catching the faint light from the stars. "You don't pretend to be something you're not. Even here, in a place where everyone wears masks, you're... real. At least, as much as anyone can be."

He processed her words, sensing that she expected something in return, though he wasn't sure what. "It's practical. Pretending would be... inefficient."

Aya smiled, her gaze returning to the sky. "Of course it would. But don't you ever wonder why you don't... feel more?"

The question lingered in the air, but Ryo didn't answer right away. His emotions were, at best, elusive. He understood their utility, the need for appearances and the strength they could lend to actions. But beyond that, they seemed extraneous, a distraction from his purpose. "What would be the point?" he finally replied. "Feelings don't change the situation here."

Aya sighed, her expression contemplative. "Maybe not. But sometimes, they're the only thing that reminds you of who you are."

Ryo remained silent, not sure if he completely understood. His identity was a function of his actions and purpose, wasn't it? What did emotions have to do with that? "Who I am... that's defined by what I do here."

She turned to him, her gaze piercing. "Maybe to you. But for me, it's different."

Ryo considered her words, wondering what she sought by sharing these thoughts. The Institute demanded survival, resilience, and strategic thinking. Emotions seemed to him more like liabilities, something to keep contained.

"Ryo, do you trust me?" Aya's question took him by surprise, cutting through his thoughts with an unexpected intensity.

Trust. The concept was loaded, complex. Trust, in the Institute, was a dangerous thing. He could cooperate, align with others to achieve mutual goals, but trust was another matter entirely. "Trust... isn't necessary. We can work together without it."

Aya looked away, nodding slowly, though her disappointment was clear. "I understand. It's just... I wanted to believe that maybe, with you, it could be different."

"Why?" His question was direct, devoid of any warmth or softness.

She looked at him, her expression vulnerable in a way he hadn't expected. "Because I see something in you, Ryo. Even if you don't recognize it, there's a part of you that feels... even if you don't let it show."

He didn't respond immediately, unsure how to interpret her statement. "You're assuming something that may not be true."

Aya sighed, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her. "Perhaps. But I don't care if it's true or not. I... I like being with you, even if you don't feel the same way."

Ryo's gaze held steady, his expression unfaltering. "And you're satisfied with that?"

She nodded, though her voice was barely a whisper. "For now, yes."

There was silence between them, thick with unspoken words. Ryo noted the way her shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in her posture easing. She seemed at peace, despite his detached responses, as if being with him was enough.

"You're aware that this... relationship doesn't serve any practical purpose here," he finally stated, his tone as factual as ever.

Aya chuckled softly, her laugh tinged with a sad understanding. "Maybe not. But sometimes, Ryo, things don't have to serve a purpose to matter." She reached over, her hand brushing his in a gentle, almost tentative gesture, as if testing his reaction.

Ryo looked down at her hand on his, feeling the warmth of her touch, though his own response was devoid of any emotion. He allowed her to keep her hand there, not because he understood its significance, but because he knew it meant something to her. And perhaps, in this place where every interaction was steeped in calculation, allowing her this simple comfort was a gesture he could offer without compromise.

Aya seemed content with his lack of reaction, her fingers resting lightly on his. She didn't ask for more, didn't push him to acknowledge something he couldn't give. It was an understanding between them, unspoken yet clear.

"Thank you, Ryo," she said softly, her gaze focused on their joined hands. "For... not pushing me away."

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her words without entirely grasping their significance. "If that's what you need."

Aya leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh, a sense of calm settling over her. "Yes. It is."

They sat there for a long time, the silence between them stretching into the night. Ryo's mind was as clear as ever, untouched by the emotions that seemed to stir in Aya. But for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he didn't mind her presence. It was... tolerable, perhaps even slightly grounding, a reminder that not everything at the Institute was a game of survival and strategy.

And as the night wore on, with Aya's hand still resting lightly on his, Ryo allowed himself a rare moment of stillness, his thoughts quiet, his purpose undisturbed.