Author's notes (14-03-2007):
I was ready to bury this fic somewhere and forget about it completely, but some people still seem to be interested in reading it, so I'm putting it back on-line. I'm currently in the process of cleaning it up a bit, so it's probably going to take two or three weeks for the whole thing to appear here. I rewrote some parts of it, got of rid of some fragments, but it's still not something I'm completely satisfied with. I'm reposting it mainly for the convenience of those who asked me for a copy of this fic.
(This fic was written in 2002. It doesn't take into consideration the events depicted in the manga.)
#Green Eyed Soul#
prologue
It is said that memories fade.
Hisoka isn't really sure if it's true, because his memories, both good and bad ones, generally tend to be rather vivid.
Should he worry? Maybe it wasn't perfectly normal that even after all these years he is able to remember everything so clearly? Maybe it should worry him that his mind seems to cherish the memory of every single touch and word? Maybe it isn't natural? Is it wrong that he sticks so much to the past?
He really doesn't know, but he doesn't trouble himself with these questions too much. To be quite frank, he doesn't care. Because, as long as these memories are not painful, he sees no harm in them. He likes to lie in bed thinking about the times gone by.
Ever so often, he comes back to that one peculiar moment that changed everything, that moment in time when everything ended and everything began. The end of his adolescence. The starting point for the rest of his life.
And maybe, just maybe, this is why he cannot bring himself to care if it is right or wrong that he remembers. He closes his eyes slowly and once again allows his mind to drift away from the present. Soon enough the pictures from far away start to appear. The day when it all started. A warm, peaceful day. The day when he waited for Tsuzuki with a forgotten book in his lap, sitting beneath one of those countless cherry trees. The day when he sat in the garden that had yet to know the coldness of snow. The day when he thought, like he is doing today, about the past and the present and the future…
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
He realized that he's unable to decide whether he's in a good or a bad mood. That was precisely what he had never liked about himself, this stupid inability to read his own feelings. Some might have assumed that being empathic made him an expert on emotions, but they would be wrong. It just made him able to read the feelings of others without real effort or trouble. He never had to guess what other people think and why, it was always served to him on a silver platter and the side-effect was that if he couldn't 'read' someone, he was completely and utterly clueless about what this particular person felt. Especially when the person in question was himself.
He sighted and tried to force his stubborn mind to make sense of this tangled mess of emotions. He wasn't pissed off, that was certain. He wasn't sad. He wasn't happy or in euphoria. But he wasn't at peace. The point was that he felt uneasy, like there was something on his mind keeping him distracted. And, if he was to be honest with himself, he knew exactly what it was.
His gaze travelled down, towards the book he had taken with him to kill some time while Tsuzuki discussed the details of the new case with Tatsumi. He had read the appropriate files yesterday and found no reason to listen to the same story twice. If Tsuzuki had done the same thing, they would have been on their way already. But he had apparently found something more interesting to do. The ridiculously huge amount of sweets stored at his apartment told Hisoka that whatever it was, it most likely involved visiting a cake shop or two. Well, it really didn't matter all that much. Few hours made virtually no difference. And Tsuzuki had even brought something for him. Surprisingly, it was not eatable. Tsuzuki had borrowed a book from the library for him and therefore managed to shock Hisoka who could have sworn that Tsuzuki didn't even recognize the word library not to mention knew where to find one.
This train of thoughts brought him back to the object of his distraction. The book. He stretched his hand forward to open it, unwillingly hesitating for a split second. There it was, on the title page - a small, white piece of paper. The note stated that the book had been borrowed at the eighteenth day of October, year 2001 and should be returned within two weeks time. Nothing disturbing. Nothing extraordinary. Except for the fact, that he of all people was born on the 18 of October. 18 October 1980. And that was it. It was one of those few times when he realized that time outside was still flying, that countless small and big things were still happening in the world, that people were still living their lives freely, that things were changing, evolving, growing…Everything was moving and he… he was standing still…
It was 2001. He was 21. Or rather he would have been 21 if he wasn't trapped in the sixteen-year-old body for the eternity. As simple as that. No matter what he does, no matter what he says, nothing will ever change. There's no way back for him and maybe there's also no way forward. Nothing to begin, nothing to really wait for, no surprises just around the corner. Suddenly, it seemed as if the landscape around him had lost its charm and colours. Everything gained a dim, shadow-like tint; just like back then, when he was still alive, locked up in his room, trying to see through the window pane that was too dirty to remain transparent…
"Hisoka!" A loud cry brought him back to the reality. He turned his head towards the voice and was greeted by the sight of Tsuzuki's worried face.
"What?"
"What? I've been trying to get your attention for more than five minutes. What was it all about?"
To his own astonishment, Hisoka felt an immense urge to do something that only movie heroines do - to cling to the lapels of the handsome hero's Armani suit, or rather an old trench coat in his partner's case, and cry his heart out. He dismissed the thought immediately and tried to get a grip on himself, but it wasn't as easy as it seemed. It didn't help that Tsuzuki was still kneeling next to him, patiently waiting for the answer.
He was still unable to form a coherent sentence and it scared him beyond belief. He couldn't understand himself and what's more, he seemed to be unable to control his own reactions. It was all so illogical. There was nothing wrong. Everything was o.k. This was probably the happiest time of his life, well, more like afterlife, but who cares anyway. Finally, he wasn't alone. Finally, there were people who considered him a friend, who cared for him. He had Tsuzuki. He just wanted something else. Something he was unable to name. He wanted something, but what?
He heaved a deep sight. End with the drama. He wasn't going to babble it all out to anyone, even Tsuzuki. It would be unfair to burden him with Hisoka's problems. It would be selfish and it wouldn't solve anything. So he did the same thing he always did in the situations like this. He lied. And he struck, because no one ever taught him how to be polite.
"Leave it. It's nothing"
"But…"
"I said it was nothing. Don't you get it? I don't want to talk about it."
It came out somehow ruder than he had intended it to be. It has always been like this. That was how he functioned. He never wanted to be impolite, but he always ended up insulting people anyway. A small hint of pain in Tsuzuki's purple eyes indicated it quiet clearly. He sighted, annoyed with himself. Sometimes he could be such an ass.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you. I…"
"O.K."
Hisoka needed a few seconds to realize that his apology had been interrupted. He looked up at Tsuzuki, his expression puzzled. That was enough for his partner to chuckle slightly.
"Oh, don't be so tense, Soka!" Tsuzuki exclaimed cheerfully "Your not obligated to tell me everything, you know? And…," his eyes were suspiciously bright and his smile seemed more devilish than harmless "I've got something for you."
He gestured towards the pile of unidentified objects lying on the grass next to them. Closer examination resulted in a strange conclusion - the pile was composed of variety of DVDs, CDs and magazines for teenagers.
"Remember when you told Tatsumi that you have problems with mixing with other teens because you don't share their hobbies?"
Hisoka nodded with apprehension.
"Well, remembering that you would probably have to pose as a high-school kid again, I bought it for you during my last…let's call it excursion. I think it is going to be enough to keep you up date. And Tatsumi thinks it's a brilliant idea. "
Hisoka looked at the DVD with the film that claimed to be the prequel to sequel to some unknown to him movie and frowned. He gazed at Tsuzuki, blinked a few times and said nothing. Then he looked back at the offending pile of rubbish and his eyes fell to the cover of some magazine. "Are they real?" asked the magazine in huge and horribly pink letters that partially obscured the picture of a well-endowed blonde showing her best assets.
"Do you think it's funny?"
Tsuzuki's smile become even wider, as he studied his partner's utterly miserable expression.
"Maybe."
Hisoka's eyes promised murder.
"No scratch that. I do find it funny. Definitely."
Chapter 1- "Strangers on a Train"Hisoka wasn't the first one to run away from danger. He wasn't even the second. All in all, he was rather courageous. Or that was what he thought before he had to face this. "O.K., breathe deep, Hisoka. It's not going to bite," he tried to assure himself. It helped. Only a bit, but still, it was something.
He tightened his grip at the Discman and pressed play. Then he grabbed the first magazine out of the pile and started reading. "There are moments in every man's life when he's gotta' be brave," he thought.
Two minutes and one article about wonders of having a boyfriend in college later, he decided that maybe it was not that bad after all. The song was quite catchy and the article was so stupid that it was almost amusing.
And then the second song started and Hisoka decided that the CD he'd put in was probably a single, because the second track sounded awfully like the previous one. The same with the third one. And the fourth. And the fifth... It was either a really long single or a really monotonous record. Well, he could just ignore the music and concentrate on the reading. And that was what he did. Or at least tried to do.
It was all right when he was reading about the new hair-do of some would-be-superstar. It was still bearable, although pretty disturbing, when he realized he's reading an article describing the trials and tribulations of being a woman. But there's only so much of the gory details that one can take and he was forced to skip most of the articles in order to safe himself from dying of embarrassment.
And when he thought he's finally safe and sound, he discovered the weirdest part of the magazine – letters from the readers. It should have taught him something. Something similar to - If it can become worse, it will. He gave out an exasperated sight. Lisa M. wanted to know if she should feel guilty for having slept with her sister's boyfriend's milkman although she had known all along that he was in love with her mother. And on the top of all things, the music started again.
"My loneliness is killing me," confessed the singer for something like the thirty-second time. Hisoka sent an agonizing look in the direction of his Discman. Who knew that popular culture could be so painful? But come what may, he was not going to give in. He would make it through. Somehow. Someday. Who was he kidding….
---- //// -----
Tsuzuki on the other hand, had the time of his life. He spent a whole day observing his partner trying to cope with this horror that was better known as pop-culture and, honestly, it was amusing as hell. Hisoka always took everything a bit too seriously and rarely allowed himself to act like a kid, so it was a rare treat to see him acting his age.
Tsuzuki noted with interest the pure disgust that had appeared upon his partner face when he changed the CD and pressed "play". He seemed to be suffering a great deal. For a second Tsuzuki wondered if he should just tell Hisoka that he didn't have to do it straight away. It wouldn't be useful during this mission. They were going to stay at the boarding school for children from very prestigious families who would, by all means, rather die than listen to Britney Spears. And then Hisoka murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm glad that your loneliness ain't killing you no more, but what the hell I have to do with this" and Tsuzuki came to the conclusion that it'd be better not to mention anything. After all, he wasn't feeling particularly suicidal at the moment.
He forced himself to look away from this scene of utter misery and gazed through the window. The lights of a distant city flickered with colours and he found himself enchanted by the view. He was grateful that they'd chosen to travel by train. It was a rare thing for them to waste time like this. He was surprised that Hisoka agreed to the idea. Genuinely surprised. Though maybe he shouldn't have been. After this so-called "Kyoto episode", his partner had, to some extend, changed his attitude towards him. Of course there was still all that shouting and snapping, but Tsuzuki was pretty sure it was just a cover. Hisoka wasn't the only one who started acting differently around him. He often caught people staring at him, as if waiting for him to do something stupid or abnormal. He usually pretend he'd noticed that they're keeping watch over him. Their intentions were good and it wasn't like he could really do anything about it anyway. But sometimes he wondered what would happen if he just told them that he didn't want their attention, that he wanted to be treated normally. But he said nothing, repeating day by day that, yes, he felt good and no, he didn't need anything. Actually, what he needed was a break, his muscles were getting tired of all this damn smiling.
That was probably one of the reasons why he hadn't protested against this assignment, even though he considered it a job for newbies. He accepted it without complaints because it meant a change of scenery, and he was ready for something new. Or so he thought.
Soon he would get a chance to discover just how wrong he was.
Chapter 2 - Period of Adjustment
It was already morning, when they gathered their luggage and left the train. An old, small-boned man was already waiting for them at the station, partially hidden in the thick morning fog. He was a wizened, hunchbacked creature, with a wrinkled face, trembling hands. He formulated his questions like orders and refused to take note of any objections. It took him exactly five minutes to intimidate both Shinigamis to such an extend that they were both ready to do whatever it took to never see him again. Needless to say, their weren't talking a lot during the drive. After all, it is very hard to carry on the conversation when you are trying to become invisible.
When they passed through something like the twentieth village in a row, Hisoka decided that at least one of them should exchange a word or two with the driver. They wouldn't like to seem too strange. He kicked Tsuzuki lightly and sent him the most severe of his glares. A glare, contrary to popular believes, can be very informative when it's really necessary. This particular glare managed to contain "say something, because somebody has to, and it's not going to be me, and do not try to ask why or I will kill you" between one blink and another.
So Tsuzuki obediently started to befriend the man and Hisoka returned to his abandoned pursuit, which at that moment consistent mostly of brooding and wallowing in his very own brand of teenage angst. At least it allowed him to avoid admitting that he was abusing his partner's kindness.
If he was to be quite frank, he has always wasted too much time on thinking. Supposedly, people who think too much, die earlier. Regardless if it was true or not, Hisoka knew perfectly well that thinking alone rarely changed things. Especially the things that should have been long forgotten. But it wasn't like he could be doing anything constructive instead. One cannot just sit down, write a letter of complaint to God and expect to be answered.
Or maybe?
Even if the answer was beyond his reach, the letter definitely wasn't.
The idea was surreal.
And, for one reason or another, he couldn't get rid of it. Tsuzuki was still making a small-talk and smiling this all too cheerful smile of his and Hisoka kept thinking about letters and divine interventions.
He gazed at the foggy landscape outside. Well, he had nothing else to do anyway.
Dear God,
I am writing in order to express my strong disapproval concerning the quality of your product.
Firstly, to the best of my knowledge, the world is supposed to be the place where people should experience both good and bad things. It is with regret that I must inform you that I have been insidiously passed over during the distribution of the good ones. I am aware that you have worked under great amount of stress, being obligated to create the previously mentioned world within seven days, but it does not change the fact that you have left many helpless people to deal with your faulty creation.
I hope that you will look into this situation as a matter of some urgency.
Yours sincerely,
Kurosaki Hisoka
The end. The letter, imaginary or not, was finished. Now what? Maybe something more up-lifting, it was high time he'd got a grip on himself. He shouldn't pity himself too much, especially remembering that it was something he tended to overdo. Luckily, there were only a few kilometres left.
The next turn of the road revealed the sight of a huge richly-decorated mansion. It had columns, curved cornices, crenellated moldings, trophies, balconies, arcades and many, many more things which Hisoka was unable to name. Whoever designed it, was most likely a freaking lunatic.
"Hisoka?"
"Yes?"
"Is that thing on the roof a chimera?"
"Most likely"
"O.K." Tsuzuki's voice sounded a bit weak. "No more questions."
They slowly came out of the car, apprehensiveness noticeable in their every move.
The thick fog still lingering in the air did nothing to create a more cheerful atmosphere. It just added to the probability that somewhere inside it, there just had to be vaults, crypts and torture chambers. Hisoka couldn't stop himself from thinking that it would be a good idea to turn around and return home. He never liked horror movies. Maybe he would have even suggested it to Tsuzuki, if something else hadn't caught his attention. From the corner of his eye, he saw something red lying the grass by the path. He picked it up. It was a diary. Quite an old one. He wanted to show it to his partner but Tsuzuki and their "chauffeur" were already walking in the direction of the house. He threw it into his backpack, deciding that he would take care of it later. Quickening the pace, he caught up with them when they were entering the building.
The lobby was dark.
For a split second he felt uneasiness.
The door was closing slowly, creating an unpleasant illusion of entrapment.
Anxiety. That was what he felt. Clearly. For sure. But why?
Suddenly, the world started to spin slowly.
For a second he felt fear that did not belong to him.
The door was shut and the light was gone.
Menace hung in the air like a cloud of smoke.
The old man turned on the light in the room. The feeling was gone. Tsuzuki put a hand over his shoulder.
"Is everything O.K.?"
Hisoka turned around to meet his gaze. He shook his head.
"I don't know… I had such a weird feeling a moment ago…a hunch."
His partnered looked as if he wanted to say something, but what exactly it was, would remain a secret forever, because that was the moment when the headmistress entered the scene. She was a small, bird-like woman, but she moved and talked with the speed of a machine gun. Three minutes after walking into the main hall, Hisoka was given his schedule, told how to find the proper classroom, informed about the accommodation and, literally, pushed out of the room.
"So here it goes again," he thought to himself, rushing through the corridors of his new school. He really didn't want to go to the classroom. If it had been up to him, he would have stayed with Tsuzuki, thank you very much, but it was not like he had much choice. His documents were already lying on the headmistress' desk and he was expected to appear in the class within five minutes. It didn't change the fact that he really, truly and deeply wanted noting but to run away and hide himself somewhere when no one knew the world education.
He honestly hated those first days at school. He knew exactly how it would go. He would arrive and from the moment he entered the room, he would be the focus of attention of every single person in the classroom. The girls would point at him, giggling slightly, and the boys would size him up, quickly deciding that he's a looser or, under the best circumstances, a bookworm. Then the teacher would ask him to present himself and he would do it, trying to look as friendly as possible, remembering that he was actually obligated to get along with these people. And then there would come the first break, when no one would approach him or worse, someone would try to talk to him only to discover that he bores them to death. And then he would come back to Tsuzuki who by then would be for sure the best pal of every person around, from the headmistress to the cleaning lady. He would have to explain to him why the hell he was unable to acquire any information about the case when everyone knows that teenagers are generally extremely found of gossiping.
His head began to ache at the mere thought of it all. But instead of slowing down to catch his breath, he walked even faster. If he had to be a student once again, he at least wanted to be a good one and good students are never late.
He reached the end of the corridor and quickly searched for the proper classroom. Number 13. He willy-nilly thought that the number was probably a bad sign and pushed the door open.
„Reflexivity can be defined as the scientific observer's objectification of structure as well as strategy. It was seen as placing the actors in a framework not of their own making, but one produced by the observer. Self-Reflexivity leads to a consciousness of …"
The woman stopped reading, realising that someone had opened the door. She turned around.
It was only when Hisoka saw her facial expression that he realized it would have been a good idea to knock first. The whole class focused their attention on him, obviously wondering who he was.
He didn't have to introduce himself. In a way, the teacher did it herself.
"Kurosaki Hisoka, I presume?"
Hisoka clearly felt that his name was meant to sound like an invective. He didn't answer, considering it a rhetorical question. In the face of his silence, the teacher frowned harder and showed him his place. He was given the topic and discovered that this horrible text on reflexivity was in fact a part of the speech on philosophy of postmodernism. He soon found out that it was unfortunately one of the earlier parts.
"Self-Reflexivity leads to a consciousness of the process of knowledge creation. It emphasizes the point of theoretical and practical questioning changing the ethnographers view of themselves and their work."
Suddenly he understood, that it was all his fault 'cause he had personally asked for it. He opened his notebook and started to write.
Dear God,
Please accept my profound apologise for the previous unfortunate letter. Needless to say, it was not my intention to suggest you're responsible for making my life miserable. I thoroughly understand that some circumstances are beyond your control and I beg you not to attach importance to my regrettable words that were written on the spur of the moment.
I also assure you that I am tremendously grateful for the second chance I have revived as a Shinigami. Therefore there is absolutely no point in showing me that it could have been worse and punishing me with the philosophy of postmodernism.
Once again, my sincere apologies for the inconvenience caused.
Yours sincerely,
Kurosaki Hisoka
Throughout all this, the teacher continued in an even voice.
"There is an increased awareness of the collection of data and the limitation of methodological systems. This idea becomes inherent in the postmodernists study of the culture of the anthropologist …"
--- ---- ---- ---- -----
Meanwhile, somewhere in the different part of the mansion, a phone rang.
"Hi, it's me. I'm sorry but it seems that I won't be able to make it"
Question.
"Yuri is throwing a party and I've already promised her that I'll come. She said that it wouldn't be any fun without me."
Silence.
"Are you still there? You're… you're not mad at me, are you?"
Lie.
"I'm so relieved! I was so worried that you'd be angry. I mean, we do not meet each other as often as we used to."
Confirmation.
"You sound strange, is everything all right?"
Hesitation.
"Listen, I've got to go. Whatever it is, we're going to talk about it later! Iwataki-kun is already here to pick me up. Bye!"
Farewell.
A dull, steady tone echoing in the dark room.
Regret.
Anger.
Rage.
A tiny whirling snowflake descending from the cloudless sky, going completely unnoticed.
Soon…
Very soon…
Because one should not brake promises.
Chapter 3- InsomniaThe story, trivial as it was, went as follows.
First of all, he survived the philosophy of postmodernism. Point for him.
Secondly, he got alive out of mathematics and even managed to learn that if lim f(x) c and x- b then with each strictly positive number e, corresponds a suitable strictly positive number d, such that x - b d f(x) - c e, which he, personally, considered an achievement. But then the teacher said that "a concept minus a concept gives a concept" and Hisoka decided that enough is enough no matter what you do with it. So no points for him in the second round.
Thirdly, he was deliberately avoided by all of his peers who apparently followed their teacher's example and tried to be as disapproving as possible. Or even more disapproving than possible. Anyways, he got the massage.
And then the lessons ended and he went searching for his partner, which wasn't the brightest idea because Tsuzuki, as usually totally oblivious to his bad mood, started conversation with 'How was your first day at school?' question.
"The day itself… was a good one."
"But?"
"The teenagers here are pretty weird."
"That's good, isn't it?" Tsuzuki send him a smile. "You're going to fit in easily enough"
Hisoka frowned, counted to ten, trying to remain patient, and finally told his partner that these people were weird 'in a different way'. And then Tsuzuki started laughing and there was really not much of a choice for Hisoka but to take offence at it. And that was how he ended up in his room. Alone, feeling annoyed and doing literally nothing.
On the top of all things, his room turned out to be of a glove compartment size. Really. He kicked his bags in and closed the door. Any further actions demanded careful consideration or at least a moment of serious reflection. He could either trample on his luggage or jump over it and trample on the freshly made bad instead. He chose the second option. After all, he would have to walk over the bed anyway if he wanted to see the balcony.
The balcony, quite illogically, had an area that was about six times larger than that of his room. Large and spacious, it looked so inviting that for a couple of seconds he seriously debated whether it wouldn't be a good idea to put the bed on the balcony and sleep outside. Then he reminded himself that it was almost November and it's freaking cold in the night. Disappointed, he decided to go back to his room to check if it hadn't got any bigger since he'd last seen it. But when he turned around, he realized that there were two doors leading into the balcony. The first one was connected to his room. The second was, as he discovered, safely locked and equipped with very thick curtains that, shut from the inside, prevented him from seeing the inside of the other room. Finally he gave up trying to see something through the material and went back inside.
He sprawled out on the bed, as the lack of chairs was quite successfully preventing him from sitting on them, and started wondering how long exactly he should stay "offended". He checked the time. Well, no matter how he put it, twenty minutes just didn't sound like the right amount of time. Damn. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but his life was pretty boring without Tsuzuki around.
He reached for his backpack, hoping to find something readable in it. A chemistry textbook, a biology textbook, a math textbook (he shuddered unconsciously)… "There has to be something 'normal' in here," he told himself. He searched some more until he found an object that was about a hundred and something pages too thin to be a textbook. He pulled it out. A tabloid…Well, he definitely wasn't that desperate. Putting the magazine aside, he realized that the only readable thing left was that diary he'd found outside. His consciousness and the sense of propriety told him quite clearly that one shouldn't read anyone else's diary. On the other hand, the diary seemed pretty old. Its owner wouldn't probably mind, as they were most likely already dead. Giving up on these poor attempts of excusing himself, he opened the book and started reading, hoping that whatever was written there would be interesting enough to keep his attention for a while.
---- ---- ---- ----
In the other wing of the building, Tsuzuki was doing something that not many people would suspect him of. He was working. Or at least he was doing something that under favourable circumstances could be regarded as working. To put it simply, he was reading through the papers Tatsumi had given him.
Name: Ryu Sakamoto
Age: 17
Birth date: 9.02.1984
Birthplace: Kyoto
Family: Mother, Rei Sakamoto de domo Wataki, daughter of Seishirou Wataki, head of the Wataka Corporation // Father: Ryu Sakamoto, politician // No siblings
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black
Distinguishing marks: none
Date of Death: 30.09.2001, between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m.
Cause of Death: internal bleeding
Internal bleeding. Formulated like this, it sounded almost normal, but the coroner assigned to this case said that he had never seen anything like this before. The boy's insides were twisted and ripped into pieces. They resembled a bloody pulp. Something like that couldn't have been done from the inside. There was no way anyone could do this without cutting the victim open. But the boy's skin was only a bit bruised. There were no cuts or even scratches. No marks. Nothing that could explain the state of his internal organs. No one knew what exactly happened. What was even more significant, no one even tried to guess. It was simply beyond the human's ability of understanding.
Tsuzuki reached for another sheet of paper. It was the officer's testimony. According to it, the officer had entered the school at 7.31 in the morning. He had been shown the body by a very nervous headmistress and quickly confirmed the death of the victim. He had been told that the person who had found the body was the victim's new roommate. His name was Motoki Kishou and that had been his first day at school. There were no other obvious suspects. The coroner had estimated that the boy had died somewhere between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. His body had been found in his own room. The area of the school was heavily guarded and protected by a high metal fence.
The guards were sure that no one had been able to slip into the main building from the outside. Those who lived in the building, were supposed to have been asleep in their rooms, when the crime was committed. Eighty eight students lived on the second floor: forty three girls in the west wing, forty five boys in the east wing, the headmistress and fifteen teachers in their own respective small apartments on the first floor in the west wing, the additional staff, twenty six people, near the kitchen in the east wing on the first floor. Each one of them could go unnoticed to the victim's room and kill him without being discovered. Each one of those one hundred and thirty people.
The police had almost no clues, nothing to really base an investigation on. And there was also that one question: if we even find the culprit, how are we going to prove him anything to them? There were no fingerprints, no instrument of crime, not even a wound. After three days of investigation the officer and his subordinates had been told very politely, but firmly, that they were not welcomed anymore in the school. The army of private detectives had attacked the place shortly after, with no results. They had agonised over every tinny detail and interrogated almost every student, putting a special attention to Kojiro Iwataki, Sakamoto's greatest rival, but it didn't change a thing. They had left defeated two weeks later and the mystery of Ryo Sakamoto's murder reminded unsolved.
Tsuzuki stared at the papers thoughtfully. There was something in it that he couldn't exactly name and it kept him distracted. He had a feeling that the case reminded him of something, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't place it. He glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to three a.m. He stood up, surprised a bit by the amount of time he had spent reading and put that wondering off, at least until the morning. And with that thought on his mind he went to bed. He fell asleep almost at once.
--- ---- ----
It rained outside.
It was three in the morning.
And Hisoka was bored.
What was even worse, he could do nothing about it. Absolutely nothing. He finished counting floorboards about an hour ago, he got fed up with contemplating the ceiling two hours ago and observing the patterns created by rain on the window panes was bringing out the worst in him.
It was quarter past three.
Oh, yes, he was awfully bored.
It was still quarter past three.
And it stopped raining. Now he couldn't even observe the rain. There was nothing, underline NOTHING, to do.
It was twenty-one minutes past three.
Well, he could always get back to bed and try to sleep. If he was lucky he would get asleep pretty fast, maybe even manage to rest a bit before another of those being-raped-under-the-sakura-tree dreams would start.
He did not like the possibility. Not at all. That was why he was often so tired. If he managed to wake up from a nightmare, he never tried to push his luck any further. He preferred to stay awake and read something. Unfortunately, the book Tsuzuki had borrowed for him from the library had been already returned and reading that red diary made him feel uneasy.
It was nineteen minutes to four.
Only four hours and nineteen, no, now eighteen, minutes and the classes would start.
He stared at the massive, old clock expectantly. If he didn't know any better, he would think that it slowed down on purpose.
Maybe he should go to school a bit earlier. Help the cleaning lady sweep the floors or something like that…
It was quarter to four.
Maybe he should go to school and sweep all those damn floors alone before the cleaning lady appears…
God… maybe he should get some fresh air before his obsession with cleaning ladies and sweeping got any stranger.
Yes, that was an idea.
He opened the door and emerged from the room. He felt better straight away. There was something about the night that always calmed him down. That is, as long as it was not a full-moon night and there were no perverted killers nearby. All in all, he really preferred night to day. The darkness made him fell strangely secure, almost safe. It was probably just a side- effect of being locked in the dim attic for the majority of his life. Creepy, shady places seemed to be his natural environment.
Suddenly, he felt something. A wave of emotions. Surprise mainly, but underneath it, there was a lot more; boredom, loneliness, anger and even a hint of hope… way too much of it to make sense.
He turned around.
The sight that greeted him was nothing that he could have ever expected to see.
There was a girl standing before him. Dark haired, green-eyed and very surprised. And what's most interesting, well objectively speaking, half-naked.
For a while he contemplated the idea that he finally went crazy and began to see things.
On the other hand, he wouldn't have felt the illusion's feelings, would he?
But when he thought about it, he could barely feel them at the moment.
While he was discussing with himself the matter of his psychological stability, the girl, real or not, obviously came out from whatever kind of shock she was in. Her expression seemed to suggest an inner fight between a desperate need to shout some thing like "'Help me! I live next door to a perverted stalker!' and skilled politeness. To Hisoka's enormous surprise the second one won.
"Good morning," she said finally. It didn't sound convincing at all, but Hisoka was still impressed.
"Although I am not sure if four a.m. can be called morning," continued the girl, desperately trying to carry on a proper conversation. "I have never had this pleasure to talk to someone at this hour."
She was surely trying to be as lady-like as she could, not matter what happened, or where, or when… Here she was, a teenage girl in strangely skimpy pyjamas meeting a dead boy on her balcony and she acted as if nothing unusual had happened. Of course, she didn't know that he was dead but still…
"We have beautiful weather this … night, don't you think?"
He must have heard it wrong. Yes, that was it. He was finally getting hard of hearing.
"The rain gave the air a nice chill…," the girl dragged on uncertainly.
He couldn't keep it any longer. He broke into laughter. He laughed whole-heartedly and probably very loudly. And then he realized what he's doing and stopped abruptly. He never laughed like this, he wasn't even a cheerful type. What was happening with him lately?
On the other hand, it felt good to be able to laugh freely and for the first he understood why Tsuzuki might find it comforting to be so cheerful all the time. He felt happy in this stupid kind of way when everything around you suddenly seems to be better and you walk through the streets and smile at the people passing you by and you really want to buy yourself a T-shirt with the sentence staying 'Kill me now, I want to die happily' and everyone looks at you as if you had lost a lot more than just composure…
Yeah, something was definitely wrong here. It wasn't him. Or that was what sane part of his consciousness tried to tell him. It was probably because of stress. Or lack of sleep. Or mental illness. Cross out the unnecessary.
Poor girl, she handled that unusual situation pretty well, even started a nice conversation about the weather with him and he did what? Began to laugh like a mad man. Definitely, something suspicious was happening to him lately. He forced himself to calm down. When he was sure of his own composure he looked again towards his silent companion.
"I'm really sorry," he started. "Believe me or not, but I'm not usually like this. It's just…," he paused searching for the right words. "Your question was a bit bizarre, I mean, out of place…" He didn't know what more to say.
"It's all right." The girl looked up to his face and sent him a playful wink. Her whole expression changed drastically within that blink of an eye. "I've never thought I'm one of these woman who can make a man this happy"
There was a suggestive subtext in her words and Hisoka turned bright pink. Damn it. "When am I going to stop blushing anyway?" he wondered absent-mindedly.
It was her turn to laugh. It was a soft, brilliant, extremely feminine sound.
"Minazaki Sakura," she presented herself a couple of minutes later.
"Kurosaki Hisoka," he replied.
They stood like this for a while. Two gracefully silhouettes lining over the railing. Two pairs of green eyes clashed together. Both surprised by the situation and their own cheerful, out of character behaviour.
And then, after long silence, they began to talk. About general things, weather, night, insomnia and pain of being forced to attend classes. Their conversation was full of pauses and strange statements and they both seemed unaccustomed to long talks. Hisoka knew that it was true in his case. Despite it all, they slowly warmed up to each other. It was still better option than sitting alone in their rooms and when they talked like that, Hisoka realized with surprise that he wouldn't mind the morning coming later.
But the morning doesn't have the tendency to change its scheduled time of arrival, so what Hisoka wanted couldn't change its plans. So the morning came as it was supposed to, and managed to catch Hisoka by surprise, totally unprepared for the classes.
--- ---- ---- ----
Tsuzuki was always late for everything. That was just a part of his charm. But Hisoka was another story. In Tsuzuki's opinion there were some certain, unchangeable things in the world; like for example the Earth being round, the sun rising in the East and Hisoka never being late. So it was definitely a shock when he saw his partner running like mad towards the classroom, obviously late
"Hisoka?"
"What?!"
"Is that you?" Tsuzuki's disbelief was clearly visible on his face.
"No, the pope! Of course it's me!"
"But why are you running?"
"And how does it look like? I'm late!"
"But why?!"
"Cause I spent the whole night at the balcony talking with Sakura and I lost track of time."
"You what?!"
"Damn it…," exclaimed Hisoka, gazing at his watch. "We're going to talk about it later, O.K.?"
Tsuzuki was so stupefied that he just stood in the middle of the hallway with a blank expression, all other problems forgotten, as the new bigger one emerged. He tried very hard to make something out of it. First of all, Hisoka was never late. Except on this particular day. Even that alone was unusual. He was late because he had spent the whole night on the balcony? Why the hell on the balcony? And talking? The occasions he saw his partner having a conversation with someone were few and far in between. Not to mention the fact that Hisoka's conversations usually lasted for about half a minute. What was it all about?
And then he remembered with whom Hisoka talked… Sakura… It was a girl's name, wasn't it?
A girl and Hisoka. Hisoka and some girl.
Tsuzuki wasn't sure what he felt, but it certainly wasn't anything pleasant. He wasn't really sure what to do with this fact.
Chapter 4- The Man Who Would Be KingHe was late.
Again.
The teacher made a disapproving comment about his sleeping habits and remained him that classes start at eight o'clock.
Everybody seemed to ignore him after that.
Again.
His life was getting repetitive. And boring. He would never get used to being a high-school student. He wasn't made for this. He wished he could grow up a bit, look three or four years older. He wouldn't have to pretend he's a normal teenager. There would be no more teachers, no more boring classes and no more teenagers he never got along with. He would be able to spend more time with Tsuzuki. It would be different.
He sighted and mentally berated himself for brooding.
The lesson seemed to go on forever.
He was almost ready to do something drastic, when the bell finally rang. Thank God. Or gods. Whoever was listening.
He was just about to get up when he felt a wave of emotions coming from a group of people heading his way. He turned around and looked up at them. It was a noisy group and his eyes were automatically drawn to the only quiet girl among them. It didn't take him long to recognize her. Sakura.
He stretched his hand forward to grasp her arm in order to get her attention. His movement caused some unexpected distraction among Sakura's entourage, as if he unconsciously broke some kind of taboo. He froze. Sakura slowly turned his face towards him and met his gaze.
It was a blank, yet somehow intimidating stare. It clearly stated that he should stay away. The girl raised her eyebrow, silently questioning his right to approach her and causing him to step back in surprise. His grip on the textbooks weakened and they fell down. He kneeled to gather them up, cursing silently under his breathe. What had happened? It was the same girl he had spoken with last night, wasn't it? Suddenly, a pale hand holding a book appeared within his sight. Sakura stood beside him, staring at the book with a deep frown, as if wondering.
"It's yours," she said in a voice that suggested an announcement rather than a question, and handed him the aforementioned object.
"Thank you," was all he managed to vocalize, feeling even more dumbfounded than before.
The girls surrounded Sakura again, forming something like a protective cocoon around her. He could still hear the faint echoes of their muffled conversation, when they turned around and headed for the door.
"Do you know this boy, Minazaki-san?"
"Don't be ridiculous! Where would she meet someone like this? Right, Minazaki-san?"
The silence lasted for a few very short seconds.
"No, I don't... " There was a moment of hesitation, before Sakura added in a firm voice. "I don't know him at all."
These words and the sound of the door being shut, finally managed to bring Hisoka back to the reality. Still, it all seemed a bit unreal to him. The girl he had met last night seemed to be a shy, charming person. On the other hand, the person he had met in the classroom, only about three hours later, seemed to be a cold, emotionless creature who looked at him as if he was at least three rungs below her on the evolutional ladder.
If he just could 'feel' her emotions, things would be different. He would probably at least suspect what's going on, but that flock surrounding his… he stopped, searching for a proper word and finally settling down with an acquaintance…so, that flock surrounding his acquaintance was successfully blocking him out.
He frowned and silently promised himself to keep an eye on Miss Minazaki. He never liked mysteries, especially the unsolved ones.
--- ---- --- --- ---
Tsuzuki couldn't possibly spend the whole day in a state of permanent shock, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway, so after ten minutes of pointless staring at a wall, he decided that the headmistress might probably appreciate him coming to work after all.
When he finally arrived at the nurse's office, he discovered that no one waited for him there. He welcomed this fact with relief, as the lack of any medical education at all was making him rather uneasy with the thought of bandaging anything, God forbid doing something even more complicated. His joy wasn't meant to be a long-lasting one, because after about fifteen minutes he was interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door.
"Come in!" he shouted, hoping it wouldn't be a student wanting to inform him that someone had a heart attack and needs help of a professional doctor.
Fortunately, it wasn't anything like that. The boy who sneaked into the room was a bit bruised but he didn't seem to be dying. Tsuzuki smiled. Bruises. That was something he could deal with.
"Excuse me, sir, are you Tsuzuki-san?"
"Yes, that would be me," he smiled brilliantly.
"Could you please do something about it?" The boy made a rather unclear gesture.
"About what?"
"My bruises," the boy explained quietly, hanging his head low, as if ashamed of something.
"Hmm… I don't know what I can do with your bruises, but you have a few scratches that need to be cleaned up. Sit down," he pointed towards an empty chair.
The boy did as he was told, walking into the nurse office obediently.
"What's your name?" asked Tsuzuki, searching for something that could help with the boy's wounds.
"Amanatsu Hiroshi, sir."
"Could you please stop with this 'sir' thing? It makes me feel old."
"Yes, sir," answered the boy quickly, before he realized what he had said. "I mean yes, certainly."
Tsuzuki laughed at his nervousness and that joyful sound brought a faint smile to the boy's face. He looked like a person that never got used to smiling.
"So tell me, Hiroshi, where did you get these nasty bruises"
"I walked into a street pole."
"That street pole of yours must have had quite an attitude," commented Tsuzuki, examining the blue marks on the boy's pale skin. Hiroshi looked up as if trying to check whether Tsuzuki was serious. He found no clues suggesting a mockery of any sort.
"Yes. It' s a very selfish and self-centred kind of pole," he said with a frown.
"Oh, I see. And what's that street pole's name, if I may ask?"
"Iwataki Kojiro, "
Tsuzuki frowned. This was the name of Ryo Sakamoto's greatest rival. Iwataki Kojiro was always the second best in everything, never being able to beat Sakamoto in anything. From what the private detectives had gathered about him, Tsuzuki drew the conclusion that these constant failures made him a bitter and capricious person that had a bad habit of venting his frustrations by attacking others. No one, at least not a sound minded person, wanted to mess with him.
"Why did he start a fight with you?" he asked the boy.
"Well…he didn't…it was kinda' my fault."
"But why would you start a fight with him?" Tsuzuki didn't really try to hide his surprise. Hiroshi Amanatsu did not seem to be particularly strong or feisty, so the answer was unexpected.
"I'd rather not say. It's personal, " Hiroshi answered, suddenly appearing to be genuinely interested in the analysis of his own shoes.
This boy was even less talkative than Hisoka. Patience, he needed patience. What was the reason for their fight? What the boys could fight over, anyway? Hmm… there's always a possibility that it was about…
"So, what's her name?" he gave it a try. Judging from the sheer surprise that appeared suddenly on the boys face, it was a good shot. He congratulated himself silently.
"How did you know?"
"Logic, my dear Watson," answered Tsuzuki trying not to look too proud of himself and failing miserably.
Hiroshi smiled again, seeming somehow amused.
"So? Who's that girl?"
"It doesn't matter."
Right. Here it was again. And he thought that 'I'm-not-telling-you-anything' part of the conversation was already over. How naïve he was…
"O.K. You don't have to tell me her name or anything like that. But you can tell me what she has to do with that Iwataki, right?" he asked, making a puppy-eyed face at the boy. It worked on everybody, even Hisoka, there was no reason why it shouldn't work in this case.
"O.K.," the boy gave up. " But it is a long story," he added, apparently hoping that it would deter Tsuzuki. No such luck.
"Go on. After all, I have more spare time than I need."
The boy gave out an exasperated sight.
"Well, this girl… she's my childhood friend. One of the very few friends I have. You see, I'm my father's illegitimate child. He didn't know what to do with me, so he had sent me here. That's how I met her. We met on the train and we were completely alone and scared stiff. Somehow we decided then that we're going to stick together… From then om…," the boy stared absent-mindedly at the grey tiles that covered the floor.
Tsuzuki waited patiently for the teen to gather his thoughts. When he finally started to speak again, his words were glib and hasty and he looked almost apologetic.
"She is my friend and I'm not feeling at peace when I don't know for sure that she's safe and sound. She's a really great person, intelligent and witty. She is also kind-hearted, though it is sometimes hard to tell. She might not seem the type, but she is in fact very insecure…," Hiroshi's voice trailed off, as if he was thinking about something else. Suddenly, he came back to reality and started apologizing. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to go on rumbling like that…
"It's o.k, " Tsuzuki assured him, before asking him with a hesitation. "You' re in love with her, aren't you?"
The boy turned bright pink.
"Yes," he answered so quietly, that Tsuzuki almost missed that word.
"And she?"
The boy did not answered, but kept gazing thought the window.
"I want her to be happy. It's not that I want to keep her for myself. But Iwataki… Today he kept talking about her like an object. He treats all the girls here, as if he inherited them from Sakamoto. His very own harem. And it isn't right, is it?"
"So the fight was about Iwataki treating her with no respect?"
Hiroshi nodded in confirmation.
"What should I do?" he asked suddenly, looking almost desperate.
What should he tell the boy? Lacking any other interesting options, he decided to go with the old, conventional method.
"You should tell her what you feel. You cannot walk around picking up the fights with some random guys. Why don't you try to make her understand that this Iwataki is a crap?" God, he sounded like a character from a soap opera.
"It's not that easy…"
"Hold your horses. I've never mentioned it being easy." Tsuzuki cut the boy's statement short. "I've only said that you should do this."
"Yes, Maybe I should tell her that…, " the boy was interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing.
Hiroshi looked at his watch.
"I have to go. My teacher hates it when her students are late," he explained, dashing towards the exit.
"Thank you for your advice," he said silently, looking directly at Tsuzuki. A few seconds later he was already gone.
Tsuzuki got up and gazed through the window at the green lush lawns where young archers were preparing themselves for the beginning of the lesson. Although it was very hard to recognize the faces from such a distance, one of the silhouettes immediately caught his eye. Hisoka was walking alone and Tsuzuki felt a sudden wave of relief washing over him. That mysterious Sakura, whoever she was, apparently wasn't accompanying his friend.
Hisoka stopped in his walk and slowly looked up, meeting Tsuzuki's gaze. They stared at each other intensely for a couple of seconds. Tsuzuki smiled faintly and waved, feeling obligated to do something. Hisoka didn't return the gesture, nor did he smiled back. He never did such things. But his eyes got brighter for a very short time and that was enough for Tsuzuki to know that his partner wasn't mad at him.
He decided to go back to work, but before he left his place at the window, he saw Hiroshi running like a madman towards the place where all the other students gathered. Suddenly, a blonde girl blocked his way and started to talking to him. Tsuzuki watched it with an interest, thinking she was probably the boy's nameless crush. Well, one thing was sure, the boy had a good taste because this blond girl was simply breathtaking. It was visible even from such distance. Once more he felt an obligation to remind himself that there was some work waiting for him. Reluctantly, he abandoned the window and returned to less entertaining things.
------- --------- --------- --------
Meanwhile, Hisoka decided to take some action. He wasn't very ambitious at heart but being considered the most pitiful person in the whole school wasn't exactly what he wanted to achieve in life. That's why he had high hopes for physical education. His class was practicing archery and he just couldn't wait to show them that there's something he's definitely good at. To be quite frank, he would rather just kick the hell out of them, but he was only a skinny teenager with no prospect of gaining any muscle strength, so he had to make do with being the best archer ever. One cannot have everything. He was so absorbed in plotting his upcoming victory that he hadn't realized that's holding a bow in his hand and staring at it with a satisfied smirk, which naturally gave his classmates another reason to laugh at him. He quickly put the bow down and picked up a more appropriate, shorter one. He was definitely ready to show them what he got.
Unbeknown to him, the bow he had abandoned found its way into the hands of one and only Minazaki Sakura. For some reason she also stared at it for a couple of seconds with a strange expression upon her face. Then she grasped it firmly and turned towards Hisoka. She came closer and stopped by his side for a second.
"Don't do it," she said quietly, not looking at him at all. "You have to let Iwataki-kun win." Just these two sentences and she was gone again.
What was that suppose to mean anyway? Hisoka decided to pretend he hadn't hard a thing. It seemed reasonable enough. He started shooting again, this time trying to pay more attention to his surroundings and fellow students, just in case.
Soon it became obvious that his exceptional skill got him the attention he wanted. Without any orders from the couch, the ones that had failed to hit the target, stepped back and only the best ones were still practicing. They were better at archery than he had expected them to be. Maybe it was due to the fact that they were, just like he, from 'so-called' traditional families that tended to pay more attention to such things. Still, thy had no chances, because Hisoka had the advantage of years on his side and five more years of practice could and did make a difference. One after another, his classmates gave in and soon enough there was only he and one other boy still practicing. They looked at each other. The crowd went silent. All of a sudden, Hisoka realized that the conditions of his further existence on the territory of this school depended solely on the way he would play this game. He tightened his grip on the bow and prepared himself. His black-haired opponent did the same thing. Two arrows flew hitting their targets with an equal grace. Perfectly. And again. Another set of arrows and again no mistake. And again. Not even a slight flinch, no mistakes. And one more time. Hisoka gazed at the other boy. He was good, really good. Unexpectedly, a gust of wind brought a fragment of conversation to him.
"He's good. This new one. Do you think he will beat Iwataki-san?" asked someone.
"He can't. Everybody knows Iwataki-san is the best," came a firm reply.
Iwataki… So his opponent was the one Sakura had spoken about. Why did she tell him to give in? What was so important about this guy?
He frowned. There was no reason for him to listen to this two-faced girl.
Another ten shots and still no victory. Hisoka glanced once more at his opponent and met his eyes. He didn't have to be empathic to know what the other boy's glare indicated. This silent threat only served to make him angry. He was not a child anymore and he was not going to get intimidated. He sent another arrow towards the bull's eye. Unfortunately, when he became aware of somebody once, it was hard for him to ignore that person later. Especially if said person was in any sort of emotional state. He frowned trying to block another wave of loathing coming his way.
"You have to let Iwataki-kun win."
The stress put on the 'have to' part was clear. Why? His gaze travelled to his opponent. This anger…so much of it…
"You have to let Iwataki-kun win."
The words rang inside his head. Iwataki waited patiently for him to make a move. His glare sent shivers down Hisoka's spine.
"You have to let Iwataki-kun win."
Damn it! He heaved a sight, hoping that he wasn't making a big mistake. The arrow flew towards its target, missing it merely by an inch or two. Iwataki's arrow hit the bull's eye and a very triumphant smile appeared for a brief second upon his face. The hatred turned into a mixture of relief and confidence. Iwataki turned towards him and began to walk in his direction. The audience observed it all with something akin to fascination.
"You are Kurosaki Hisoka, aren't you?" Iwataki asked.
"Yes."
"You're quite good at it."
"But you are better," answered Hisoka, deciding that this enigmatic 'it' was probably archery.
"Well, that's obvious," the boy smiled and Hisoka tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He felt he should say something. He tried the flattery.
"I lack composure. I wish I could be as calm as you are," he almost chuckled sensing just how pleased Iwataki was with this remark.
"You've got time. I'm sure you'll gonna improve in the future," was the generous answer. "And it was nice to meet someone so good," he added. "I don't really have anyone to compete against, now that Sakamoto is dead."
"Sakamoto?" Hisoka decided to play dumb.
"Yeah. Ryu Sakamoto. The best of the best," Iwataki answered bitterly. "He was like a king here…," his voice trailed off and for a second it seemed that he was lost in his own thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice was emotionless. "But the king is dead…so…," he sent Hisoka a crooked smile "long live the king."
There was no doubt who he had in mind and Hisoka decided suddenly that failure was indeed the right choice. He didn't like the way Iwataki smiled. Not at all. Someone approached them. Hisoka looked up. Sakura again.
"We have to go," she said, directing her words to Iwataki.
"Right. See you later, Kurosaki," he said, absent-mindedly. And that was it. The whole conversation. But it managed to change a lot or so it seemed. Iwataki acknowledged Hisoka's presence and so did the whole school. He accepted him, so did others. He really was the leader.
All together, his situation had vastly improved. There was only one problem. One blonde girl was heading towards him and he couldn't help the feeling that he should be running away. The girl smiled at him. There was something strange in her eyes. She looked at him like a starving men would look at a piece of cake. Hungrily.
Yes, he did sense danger.
t.b.c.