As Ryu began to walk towards the room, Yuuki's body thrashed violently on his shoulder, the boy's limbs flailing wildly in a desperate bid for freedom. Ryu's grip on Yuuki's leg remained firm, his fingers digging deep into the boy's skin as he struggled to maintain control. "I don't want to do this the hard way," Ryu warned, his voice low and even, but laced with a hint of steel. The words were a caution, a warning that he would not hesitate to take drastic measures if Yuuki continued to resist.

Despite the warning, Yuuki's struggles only intensified, his body arching and twisting in a futile attempt to break free from Ryu's grasp. Ryu's jaw clenched in response, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on Yuuki's leg. "You're not thinking clearly," Ryu repeated, his tone firm but controlled, as he continued to walk towards the room, Yuuki's thrashing body held firmly in place. The air was thick with tension, the only sound the heavy breathing and muttered curses that escaped Yuuki's lips as he struggled against Ryu's unyielding grip

As Ryu entered the room with Yuuki slung over his shoulder, the atmosphere underwent a palpable shift. The air grew heavy with anticipation, and a crew of technicians, already in position, sprang into action. Cameras, poised and ready, captured every movement, their clinical lights casting an unforgiving glow across the opulent space. Nakajima, standing off to the side, exhaled a plume of smoke from his cigarette, his expression inscrutable as he watched Ryu's entrance with an air of detached curiosity.

Without hesitation, Ryu dumped Yuuki onto the bed, the boy landing with a soft thud on the plush surface. For a moment, the room hung in silence, the only sound Yuuki's ragged breathing as he struggled to process the abrupt change in his surroundings. Confusion etched across his features, Yuuki's eyes darted wildly, taking in the unfamiliar environment and the looming figures of the crew.

“Get him wired,” Ryu instructed, his voice steady and even, yet infused with an undercurrent of intensity. Yuuki’s eyes widened as the masked men advanced, a surge of panic coursing through him. The reality of being in a controlled environment, surrounded by people who viewed him as a subject rather than a person, struck him like a lightning bolt. The pulse of fear beat quickly in his chest as he glanced toward Ryu, searching for any hint of empathy or even remorse.

The two crew members, clad in black and masked to maintain anonymity, stepped forward with a practiced air, their movements swift and efficient. They grasped Yuuki's wrists, pulling his hands behind his back, and secured them with restraints. Yuuki's body arched in a futile attempt to resist, his eyes flashing with a mix of fear and defiance. He shakes his head wildly, cursing words unintelligibly, pleading shining in his gaze.

The first masked figure grasped the collar of Yuuki's shirt, his fingers closing around the fabric like a vice. With a swift, brutal motion, he tore the shirt open, the sound of ripping fabric echoing through the room. Yuuki's chest, smooth and flushed, was exposed to the harsh glare of the lights, his skin heaving with each ragged breath. A pathetic whimper escaped his lips, a sound that was both heartbreaking and humiliating.

The second assailant, his calloused fingers probing without mercy, roughly groped Yuuki's chest. Yuuki's body arched off the bed, his back bowing in agony as he screamed into the gag. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, streaming down his face as he thrashed desperately against the restraints. The sound of his muffled cries filled the air, a haunting melody that seemed to pierce Ryu's very soul.

As the second masked figure moved lower, his deft fingers made quick work of the button and zipper on Yuuki's shorts, yanking them down halfway. Yuuki's struggles grew more frantic, his body writhing in a futile attempt to escape the cruel hands that seemed to be tearing him apart.

Ryu, watching from the sidelines, felt a storm of emotions swirling in his dark eyes. The debauched scene unfolding before him was like a twisted reflection of his own past, a reminder of the pain and suffering he had endured. As Yuuki's anguished screams pierced the air, awakened feeling that ignited a fire within him. his mind's eye conjuring the image of himself - younger boy, 15 years ago, with the same frightened eyes, begging for mercy. The memory was a brutal slap, a stark reminder of the atrocities he had witnessed, and the pain he had endured. The past and present collided, merging into a single, searing moment, as Ryu's emotions teetered on the brink of chaos. The boy's pleas, then and now, were a haunting refrain, a desperate cry for help that resonated deep within Ryu's soul, threatening to shatter the fragile hold he had on his emotions.

In that moment, Ryu realized that his desire for revenge was not just about punishing Hayama but about confronting the twisted legacy of his own past. He had thought that dragging Yuuki into this chaos would offer him closure, a way to resolve his own suffering, but now he saw clearly the devastating cost of his actions. The price of his revenge was not just Yuuki's pain, but also his own feeling, and Ryu was forced to confront the darkness - his own demon that had driven him for so long. But now he saw clearly how much he could lose in the process.

“Ryu, lighten up,” Nakajima said, his voice a gentle attempt to diffuse the tension that had been building in the room. Though his tone was light, it was laced with a deep understanding of the gravity of the situation, and the potential consequences of Ryu's actions.

As he watched the interplay between Ryu and Yuuki, Nakajima's expression shifted from one of anticipation to dawning realization. He had noticed the way Yuuki seemed to affect Ryu, the faint spark of something deeper that ignited in Ryu's eyes whenever he looked at the boy. It was a subtle shift, but one that Nakajima recognized with a mix of concern and understanding. He knew that such feelings could be a liability in the context of their plan, and that Ryu's emotions could compromise the entire operation.

With a heavy sigh, Nakajima ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the creases etched across his face. “Forget it,” he said, his words tinged with resignation. “We'll find another way.” He made a sweeping gesture, signaling the crew to stop, and they froze, their movements uncertain as they awaited further instructions.

Ryu's eyes locked onto Nakajima, a mixture of confusion and annoyance swirling in their depths. "What are you talking about?" he asked. Though his words were laced with a subtle undertone of tension, there was a flicker of something else, a glimmer of relief that danced in the shadows of his gaze. It was a fleeting emotion, one that Ryu himself might not have fully acknowledged, but it was there, a quiet reprieve from the darkness that had driven him thus far. As he stood there, his expression a mask of controlled intensity, Ryu's inner world was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, with relief and frustration, anger and uncertainty, all vying for dominance.

Nakajima's voice was a calm, steady counterpoint to the turmoil brewing inside Ryu. " You can't just force this situation," he said, his tone firm but measured. "Whatever emotions you're grappling with... they complicate everything. If you're having doubts, it's better to reevaluate our approach rather than pushing forward blindly. The boy is already affected by all of this, and it may not yield the results we're looking for."

Ryu's jaw clenched, a mixture of frustration and longing swirling in his chest like a maelstrom. He didn't want to consider changing the plan, didn't want to entertain the idea that his feelings might be a liability. But Nakajima's words struck a chord, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his partner was right.

"Let's not rush into something we might regret," Nakajima cautioned, his eyes locking onto Ryu's with an unyielding intensity. "I know that deep down, you don't truly want to go through with this," he added, his voice low and measured, as if trying to reach the part of Ryu that was still grappling with his emotions. With a subtle nod, Nakajima instructed the crew to vacate the room, and as they filed out, the atmosphere underwent a profound shift. The air grew thick with tension, an almost palpable weight that settled over the space like a shroud.

As Nakajima turned to leave, he reached out and laid a hand on Ryu's shoulder, a gentle yet firm touch that seemed to convey a world of unspoken understanding. Before departing, Nakajima's gaze drifted back to Yuuki, who sit trembling on the bed, his fragile form a poignant reminder of the stakes involved. For a fleeting moment, Nakajima's eyes lingered on the boy, his expression a mask of concern. Then, with a final glance, he turned and exited the room, leaving Ryu alone with his thoughts, and the burden of his own conflicted emotions. The silence that followed was oppressive, punctuated only by the soft sound of Yuuki's labored breathing, a haunting reminder of the delicate balance between mercy and retribution that Ryu now struggled to maintain.