In the 463rd game, he had lost to Ryonan, to Sendoh, and even more so to Chi Tong's setup. But that did not mean he would sink into despair.
Rukawa slowly withdrew his gaze and turned toward the Ryonan players. His eyes swept past the cheering crowd before briefly meeting Sento's. No words were exchanged, only a clash of gazes—a defeated man's salute to the victor, and an advance declaration of their next confrontation.
Then, he shifted his gaze away from Sendoh and finally settled it on Chi Tong.
Those two... Next time, next time, he would definitely defeat them!
Victory!
Ryota Miyagi and Mitsui Hisashi had gritted their teeth and held back for a long time, but in the end, they could not stop the scalding tears from falling. They raced down their faces, smashing onto the floor and spreading into small patches of water stains.
Ryota Miyagi was slightly better off. He merely tilted his head back and bit his lower lip hard, allowing tears to slide down his cheeks. He did not cry out or react excessively. Only his usually sharp, clever eyes brimmed with the purest unwillingness of youth.
His fists were clenched, his nails digging deeply into his palms. It felt as though a wad of cotton had lodged in his throat, suffocating him with pain.
He was unwilling to be so thoroughly suppressed by Chi Tong, unwilling to fail at organizing even one decent offensive play, and even more unwilling to end this game with such regrets.
Mitsui Hisashi, however, was completely different. His tears had burst through like a broken dam, flooding forth so fiercely they nearly drowned him.
The tears streamed like a spring, blurring his vision and washing away every bit of his disguise.
He could no longer maintain that pretended