[ He feels compelled to look away while Akira wipes at his eyes, like he should give his friend a moment to collect himself. What he doesn't know is just how daunting a task that would be, but he will. There's no way his logic or rampant toxic masculinity will allow him to reach out to touch the teen again; he's too worried he'll feel something he doesn't want to acknowledge. The blond is still intent to prove his innocence...

Until Akira tells him that Miki is dead.

There is a shift in his expression; a hardening around the eyes and mouth that is purely defensive. Remorse was reserved solely for his friend; the spares that hung around didn't really inspire his concern or attention. Miki was different but it was no real secret that he thought Akira's fascination with her was ... problematic. She served as a distraction from (him) their goal in becoming demon hunters and curtailing the takeover. It didn't offend him that she was gone. It just offended Ryo that he was being blamed. ]

Like hell I did. [ He doesn't much like people. He doesn't like their demons being his fault even more. There's a soft voice far at the back of his mind that's telling him Akira wouldn't lie to him. That this was what he'd wanted all along. Ryo's hand moves to cover his face when a sudden rush of vertigo hits him and he takes a steadying breath. Moves past. His hatred was for the demons. He was trying to save humanity. ] I'm not responsible for the actions of others. The demons inspired fear and we were at war with them.

[ His conviction wards off an identity crisis for the time being (because what fun would that be?) and he continues, trying to reason with his friend's sense of loss. ]

Akira, I'm still here. I've always been here. Let me help you. There has to be a reason we're both in this place.

[ Besides a toxic cyberpunk yaoi. ]