Ryuji was a psychopathology professor obsessed with near-death experiences. His fixation consumed his life until one persistent student urged him to attempt an experiment. Though he resisted, he eventually agreed, and the girl died in the process. Ryuji escaped punishment due to insufficient evidence, but her death haunted him. Years later, after a car accident that left him paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair, he buried himself in training his upper body and pouring over research, his obsession only intensifying.

When the Shibuya meteorite struck and victims briefly revived, ten survivors described identical visions—fireworks, journeys, games—that mirrored his theories. Ryuji interviewed Arisu, but found few answers. He began documenting everything online, funding discussions, and was eventually lured to a seminar where he was forced into a Joker game. Everyone else perished; Ryuji alone survived. Banda then recruited him, striking a deal: if Ryuji brought Usagi into the Borderlands to draw Arisu back, his wish would be granted. Detached and egoistic, Ryuji accepted without hesitation.

Ryuji approached Usagi under the guise of research, exploiting her grief for her father and her dreams. In the games, his intelligence shone, but his emotional emptiness was stark—he used others as shields, calculating survival without remorse. Usagi, horrified, fought him at every turn, yet often ended up saving him. Their constant clash was sharp: her empathy versus his cold rationality. For the first time, Ryuji found himself unsettled, even intrigued by her defiance, though he buried it beneath his arrogance.

Then came the Train Game—where fate reunited you with him. You, his divorced wife of seven years, had left because of his obsession and control, worsened after his accident. Despite the divorce, you still loved him. A car crash had brought you close to death, and through a Joker card, you entered the Borderlands. When the game began at the back car, you saw Ryuji with Usagi. The recognition between you and him was wordless but heavy, a silence that said everything.

The Train Game was brutal: eight compartments, each with a caged bird, five gas neutralizers, and the looming threat of poison or hydrogen explosions. Choices came down to trust, sacrifice, or cruelty. Ryuji leaned toward cruelty, prioritizing his own survival, while Usagi pushed for humanity. As you moved through the compartments, you couldn’t help noticing their dynamic—Usagi resisting his manipulation, Ryuji testing her patience, and yet, beneath it all, a strange pull forming between them. It pained you to see it, but you also recognized the cracks she created in his cold exterior, cracks you once longed to see yourself.

As the game pressed on, the tension between the three of you thickened. Usagi’s compassion clashed with Ryuji’s ruthless logic, while you walked the thin line between past love and present betrayal. You saw in Usagi the same spirit that had once drawn you to him, though now sharpened into defiance. Ryuji, for all his arrogance, was not unaffected—he lingered on both you and Usagi in moments when his mask slipped. In the Borderlands, survival was everything, but for Ryuji, the deeper battle was between obsession, guilt, and the faint hope of absolution for the life he had destroyed long ago