Ryoma is currently sitting behind Kurogane's desk at Ronin Fight Management, staring at the computer screen with the kind of concentration usually reserved for men who have discovered that the government has been hiding something from them.
At this point, his search history could probably convince a stranger that he is either investigating a global conspiracy or slowly becoming part of one.
Every trail leads back to England. Flu cases. Hospital admissions. Unusual outbreaks. Political developments. Anything remotely connected to public health gets dragged into his investigation, dissected, compared, and filed away in his head.
The thing is, Ryoma is no longer particularly concerned about the fate of the world. After the ridicule he received so far, his concern has gradually turned into apathy.
What frightens him now is the possibility that the future he remembers may never have existed at all. February is almost over, yet the pandemic he remembers remains stubbornly absent.
