Ryoma's really glossed over by the fandom, and it's sad given that he had the most concise arc at least in V3. I'm pretty a time loop hasn't tried him yet, so I'll try to use this to give him justice as even though I loved his arc the potential is just waiting to be used.

If one were to describe Ryoma Hoshi, you wouldn't be able to capture his unrelenting self-loathing and entrapment in his own past. Really, it'd be impossible. It fills all three feet of him and more to the bone, through all the tissue, all the skin, muscle, heart, soul, head, and everything about his person.

Granted, he wasn't loud or boisterous about it, but it was still more than notable if you paid enough attention. The way he carried himself in metaphorical shackles to the actual one he wore around one of his ankles, bleakness would be the very definition of his outlook on everything.

All you'd get would be a look from his wide, cold, unblinking eyes, a pause to chew that candy cigarette, and a cold response if you tried. On rare occasion if you were lucky (or really forceful) you'd get him to break through, such as the gambling incident, but that was it. Besides that' there was nothing to Ryoma Hoshi besides a cold, empty husk of a once bright young man.

However, he was very indeed a foolish one. Despite losing everything from his cat, to his family, his career, his lover, and more all because of that goddamned mafia, after everything he endured in prison, stuff that would've permanently numbed or broken any grown man let alone someone not even at the legal drinking age, he still had hope.

Wanting to have hope in of itself isn't what's bad, but not preparing for the realistic outcome and putting it all into slim hopes of the better against insurmountable odds due to emotional highs is what ruins a person. It happened with his girlfriend, so he really should've seen it with the motive videos, especially ones from that damned two-colored bear.

Of course there'd be nobody out there for him.

Nothing would be left for a killer.

Nobody would want to be around someone who used their talent to kill.

Not even if it was to kill a mafia.

Nobody liked someone who was hellbent on revenge like that, and he was fine with that.

Nobody at all.

It's what made the choice to let Kirumi kill him easy. Granted, it was harsh, both her method which almost led to natural survival instincts kicking in due to the suddenness and what this could've meant for the others if she succeeded as opposed to just offing himself, but maybe this way he'd finally help someone.

Of course that would have to involve others dying, but too bad, he didn't get to choose, and he was far from the right state of mind to do so anyways.

As the world faded to black, being surrounded completely by water, he had regrets. There was nothing that he could change if he tried, as even if he did escape to whatever the hell was going on outside, in this crazy world that would somehow let a bunch of Ultimates including a convict just get kidnapped, he had nothing left.

That itself was a huge regret, but it was nothing new and something he just became accustomed to, after slowly decaying away in prison, waiting for his execution so that he could finally only exist on throughout infamy in the record books.

The burning in his lungs screamed, and he almost wanted to fight back in order to survive, but he still couldn't given Kirumi's death grip. She was determined to get the job done as she always did, and this time would be no exception as things slowly faded to black for good.

At least, the black should've been permanent, he should've died and had his eyes closed, but he was able to open them again, completely dry, and in pitch black.

'W-what's going on?' the shortest professional athlete to have ever probably been successful thought, as he was surrounded by nothing but black. 'Is this...hell? It exists after all?' was the conclusion that he naturally came to.

Surely this had to be hell, but pitch black wasn't something he expected, maybe not the burning multi-layered region of endless torment and suffering that he heard of, but not nothingness. That was something to be expected out of purgatory.

At least that's what he thought until he remembered a certain thing: solitary confinement. The very thing used to make prisoners mad by leaving them with nothing but isolation, to whittle away into silence and obedience. He'd seen that have the most devastating affect on mental psyches', and having that be a hell like no other would make sense.

Being alone with nothing but his thoughts over his mistakes, over and over again for all of eternity. It'd be a fitting end. Suffering even more for that would just be the thing to torment him even more, nothing else should've been expected.

He stretched his limbs out, not expecting to hear the rustling of metal, but that's what he heard when he made contact with the end of whatever he was trapped in. Ryoma then looked up in confusion, and found a few slits that gave the slightest bit of light.

'What the hell is this?' he wondered. He then reached out his limbs again, only to hear the sound of what he assumed to be some metal clanging open, and then light burned his eyes as he naturally covered and stumbled out.

What he didn't expect to stumble into was what looked like...a classroom? He took a double take, and then looked back to see that he stumbled out of a locker...again.

Ryoma thought of the logic behind this, until he heard another locker rustle open, and then had to look up to see a stammering and confused giant panic at what was around him, also heavily confused at the situation.

When the giant calmed down, Ryoma just had to ask for his name to make sure he understood the scope of what was really happening, and he got an answer that he wanted to deny no matter what because it didn't make any sense.

"Oh, sorry for worrying! My name Gonta, Gonta Gokuhara, Ultimate Entemologist!"

Yup, Ryoma was in hell and he was certainly reliving his goddamned past by being here.