Why he was there? He really didn't know it himself, which really annoyed him. He, the best of bests couldn't answer a simple question as why.
Why?
It's really a good question if you ask me. Maybe it was his likeness, no, no, no… it was far more than likeness, his need for sweet, sweet sugar that boasted his "mind powers", but that reason didn't sound convincing enough for someone as logical obsessed as him.
The need of escaping all the pressure of his full time job, which vanished his personal life… doesn't sound quite good either, he would never regret sacrificing his personal needs to bring justice over those damn people that took justice under their hands in a wrong way.
He could think of many possible answers, but they remained as that, as possible answers; he couldn't be far more than thirty percent sure of those reasons that crossed his mind and it stings like a needle in his foot or a kick where it hurts.
Not knowing the reasons of why he was there, in the "Oasis sweet shop & café" in a certain street of Japan (almost unknown), meant he couldn't understand his own actions, and not understanding his own mind meant he wouldn't be able to understand anyone else's mind; which is quite important, no, which is everything for his job.
But he remained calm, he knew he was there to discover the reason of why he kept going there every once a week, the same day, at the same time at the same place, straight for a year.
He sat in his famous weird way, his knees up and his arms wrapped around them. The table that he always reserved was in the back of the building along a couple of tables and benches that had a view to the dark forest of the private park, actually, it surrounded the place; of course his table was full of many sweets enough for three people, but he wasn't planning to share his sweet poison. Over his dead body.
The Oasis café was a top quality and highly recommended place, but this preference and popularity wasn't for nothing, the place had an excellent sweet source, but it was as expensive as hell, not everyone could go to such a place; they had to do a reservation days before.
Such and elegant place meant dark tastes, all with a touch of darkness, dark tastes always gave the image of elegance; the shop had dark colors all over the place along comfy and expensive furniture, but equally depressing as the colors; and for a real strange reason, the weather around the location was always cloudy and gray, which made the place look even more serious, depressing, yet elegant.
He took a dark chocolate cupcake holding it up with two fingers looking at it as if he never saw one before. The combination of the sweetest fruit ever, the sugary red strawberry that laid on top of the cupcake and the little pieces of dark chocolate mixed within the soft bread mixture was one of his favorites.
He was about to give a big bite to his sweet prey when he felt it again, that heavy sensation of being watched by someone, the stare was so hard, so deep that he could notice and even feel I digging in his back.
He left his brown treat and turned around just as the stare disappeared, nobody. Or at least nobody staring at him, was he going insane? No, he did feel it. There was a couple two tables from him, what looked like a work reunion in a corner of the building and a random girl sitting in a window; the windows were circular, so she had her feet against the wall while drawing something in a notebook, in a really weird position I may add, but who was he to talk about weird things.
He discarded the couple quickly, they were too entertained with each other talking about nonsense and lovey-dovey things that didn't make sense to him, it looked like they thought they were alone; the work reunion was too important to mess up paying attention to a stranger like him. His last resort was that random girl sitting in the window in the opposite side of the building, but she looked so drawn into her sketchbook that she didn't care for anyone else, of course the possibilities of being stared by one of those last peoples wasn't cero, but it just looked not much probable.
He returned to his cupcake giving it a big bite, getting trapped in his mind again; he had to discover the reason to his action as soon as possible or it could interfere with his other business.
Being a genius like him, he could remember every single detail of the 48 times he went to Oasis, but, he couldn't remember what he was thinking at the time as he wished.
He remembered the first day he stepped in that depressing building; he read all those fancy articles that loved the place; that was a year ago. As soon as he stepped in Oasis café, a waitress greeted him cheerfully with a big cheesy smile that looked king of fake; her black uniform resembled him of a maid. He barely spoke to her, he had no interest on her, the waitress checked his reservation under the name of "Ryuzaki" assigning him the last table outside the café, picked by him of course.
When he got to the backyard if the building, called "Silent Hollow" (believe me, that place gives the chill thanks to its dead silence) by the own shop, something caught his attention, but he didn't notice what was it exactly.
He actually knew it, but forced himself to forget.
And now he tries to remember.
He sat in his designed table not much caring for the surroundings; the waitress handed the menu, which he didn't hesitate to read, and he simply ordered everything they had in stock, the waitress of course made an expression showing her confusion as she went back to the shop to get a sample of everything they had.
He gave a quick glance to the other people that were in the hollow, as we may call the place from now on, as he expected most of the people stared at him like if he were a strange bug.
Two high-status-looking men were glaring at him from the corner of their eyes; two women were whispering and giggling to each other while looking at him so obvious and in the window sat a girl drawing in her notebook not paying much attention to the newcomer or the waiter that tried to get her order.
The giggling of the girls was getting in his nerves, he was ninety-nine percent sure that they talked about him, and the idea disgusted him for some reason, but, he managed to act like he didn't notice. He spent all the evening and part of the night (since the place was open all day long) eating more and more candy with the poor little waitress that went in and out of the hollow with trays and more trays of sweets.
Since that day, every time he made a reservation the shop didn't think it twice and made sure his table was unoccupied.
He really didn't thought he would like that much the sweets they sold there, he even had some sweets to go, he considered that as the reason of his visits, but now he knew he was just lying to himself.
But, why?
To forget the real reason…