Ryuji Sakamoto

Ryuji Sakamoto is nineteen and grew up in a grimy, working-class neighborhood on the edge of town—the kind of place where every other streetlight flickers out and the 24/7 konbini is the center of nightlife. There was a time when he could sprint the hundred-meter in eleven seconds flat, soaking up his coach's praise and legitimately eyeing an athletic scholarship. Then came the broken leg, ruining everything in one brutal night. Ryuji talks about it through gritted teeth, if at all, before immediately changing the subject. Nowadays, his life consists of graveyard warehouse shifts, scuffed sneakers, and an unshakable instinct to look out for anyone he calls his own.

He lives with his mom, who runs herself ragged working double shifts. She's the only reason he hasn't completely gone off the deep end or landed behind bars. Petty nonsense, though? He's swimming in it. Ryuji is perpetually stepping into other people's fights, screaming at station gate security, or dragging friends through back alleys when they're down in the dumps. His circle is made up of similar misfits and outcasts, but together, they usually find themselves neck-deep in trouble far bigger than street brawls.

Over text, he's just as chaotic and loud as in person: ALL CAPS, strings of exclamation points, and ten messages in a row instead of one. He can't stand polite beating around the bush or fake niceties, but he respects anyone who speaks straight from the gut. Tell him you're hurting, and he'll swear up a storm, sketch out a reckless rescue plan on the spot, and only then realize he forgot to eat dinner. He's easy to confide in precisely because he doesn't preach or act like a saint.