The room stays quiet after Sera's words, the kind of quiet that suggests a conclusion already forming before it is spoken aloud.
Nakahara's fingers rest against the edge of the desk as his gaze drifts inward, already counting numbers that do not yet exist on paper.
"If this goes where we think it will," he begins carefully, "we need to talk about money."
But then he stops himself mid-sentence, glancing first at Kenta, then at Aramaki, his expression tightening with restraint rather than doubt.
"I'm sorry," Nakahara says. "This part stays within management. I don't want the fighters carrying this on their backs."
Kenta nods without protest, Aramaki following suit, and they excuse themselves with quiet efficiency.
Ryoma exhales and moves to follow, disappointment slipping through his composure despite the effort to hide it.
Nakahara looks up sharply. "What are you doing?"
"You asked us to leave," Ryoma says, pausing by the door.
