Hisoka's Gaze

The rain had stopped.

But the water on the ground had not receded. On the grass blades, between the rocks, beneath footprints, traces of the downpour still remained. Mist hung in the air like a layer of cotton fluff—thin, yet clinging.

The examinees' footsteps gradually approached the finish buffer zone. Rows of short trees marked the "final stretch" area—a visual signal set up by the Association in advance: they were almost there.

But everyone knew that until they heard Satotz call for a stop, it was not the true finish line.

This stretch of road was the final test of their minds.

Ryan still maintained Zetsu as he walked along a rocky ridge path slightly off the main route. Several examinees followed his pace not far behind, but none dared approach. He said nothing, neither fast nor slow, always maintaining a steady distance that said, "You can see me, but don't come closer."

At the bend atop the slope, beside a massive boulder dried by the wind, someone stood.

The man wore a multicolored shirt. He was tall and thin, with flame-red hair.

He was not blocking the way. He merely leaned against the rock, lightly spinning a playing card between his fingers, as though waiting for something—or contemplating something.

Hisoka.

Ryan's eyelids did not twitch, and his steps did not stop. He recognized him, but did nothing.

Footsteps drew closer.

The card at Hisoka's fingertips paused gently, then stopped.

Then he smiled, his voice as light as a feather drifting across stone.

"Hello."

Ryan did not answer. He did not even turn his head.

He knew that responding would be a signal. To Hisoka, as long as someone was "interesting," he would begin "recording" them.

Silence was the safest disguise.

Hisoka was not annoyed. He slowly stepped down from the boulder, his voice still sounding as though he were talking to himself.

"You run very steadily... Even without any presence, every step is so unhurried."

His gaze was not focused on Ryan, yet an inscrutable smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.

"Like a fish in water, walking beneath the surface without making bubbles."

Ryan did not turn his head. He merely adjusted his stride slightly, placing his foot on a more stable stone before continuing onward.

Hisoka seemed to enjoy the silence. He followed for another two steps, but did not come closer.

"Who are you... hmm?"

He murmured, and his eyes suddenly narrowed, turning sharp for an instant.

In that instant, the air seemed to freeze.

It was not killing intent, but curiosity. That chilling, scalp-prickling kind of "interest."

Ryan's heartbeat remained even, without quickening. He merely shifted aside to avoid a slanted rock, then cut diagonally downward in an utterly natural motion, circling from the lower slope into the grassy strip on the other side of the main route.

There was no haste in the movement, yet it was precise and clean—not like panic, but like someone who had assessed the terrain in advance and prepared for it.

Hisoka smiled.

Not a loud laugh. The curve of his lips merely deepened a little.

"Ha... How interesting."

He did not pursue Ryan or say another word. He simply remained where he was and tossed the playing card to his feet.

It landed face-up—the Queen of Hearts.

He murmured, "Pity it isn't an Ace." Then he slowly turned around and walked down with his back to the slope.

Only after Ryan confirmed that he had left Hisoka's field of vision did he slightly curl his fingers.

His fingertips were faintly damp with sweat. He knew that although this encounter had not exposed him, it had left behind a vague "outline."

Not of who he was.

But of "someone far too steady to be a rookie."

He could not keep moving so distinctively.

He had to readjust his rhythm and blend into a more "ordinary" flow of fluctuations.

The run was not over yet.

And in this examination ground, "being remembered by Hisoka" was one of the most dangerous things.

The rain-soaked grass still seeped with water. The loosened mud gave off faint squelching sounds underfoot, like the whispers of water trickling through cracks.

Ryan came down the slope without speeding up, keeping that same calm, unhurried rhythm. But he had quietly adjusted his route, cutting from the rocky grassland at the side into a main flow of traffic slightly left of center.

There were many people here, and the pace was chaotic.

Some panted heavily, some staggered on unsteady feet, and some muttered as they ran, "Just hold on a little longer... We're almost there..."

This route belonged to the examination ground's "low-attention layer"—neither the examiners nor the other examinees would focus on it.

But it was perfect for Ryan.

He did not want to reach the finish line too early. He also knew that Hisoka's earlier question, "Who are you?" had sounded casual, but it was enough to mean that man had remembered his existence.

Not his name, not his face, but a vague "gait pattern."

He could not move so steadily or so precisely anymore.

Otherwise, he would become a target that was "just a little more interesting."

So he deliberately misstepped once or twice—not enough to fall, but enough to make his rhythm look scattered, as though his stamina was failing. He slipped beside a small puddle, then took two seconds to recover.

After that, he coughed once, as though rain-damp air had gotten into his nose and mouth.

The examinees around him did not look at him. They merely unconsciously gave him a little space.

That was enough.

Blending into the "crowd on the verge of collapse" was the best cover.

Inside the main observation cabin, the Association examiners huddled around a dynamic data display and whispered among themselves.

"Candidate 199's trajectory changed suddenly."

"He shifted from the side route into the middle section, and his fluctuation frequency has become unstable... Has the previous marker disappeared?"

"A stamina issue? Or an environmental judgment?"

One observer frowned as he pulled up earlier footage. "He just now... approached Hisoka?"

"There was almost no exchange. They only passed each other at close range," another immediately replied. "But No. 44, Hisoka, remained standing and observing for about eight seconds afterward. He did not follow."

He glanced at Candidate 199's data, then at another finish-tracking panel, and said calmly,

"Mark him as [Variable Candidate · Observation Level]. Do not place him under primary observation, but retain his data long-term."

Ryan did not know whether the Association had noticed everything that had happened just now.

But he knew that his strategy of avoiding the blade had succeeded for the moment.

He merged into the crowd, looking like an utterly ordinary examinee. No one spoke to him, and no one gave him a second glance.

He even slipped past a young man who was clearly cramping and casually helped straighten his backpack, without leaving him so much as a look.

Then he kept running.

He did not need to stand out, and he could not stand out.

He only needed to "pass through this stretch safely" and enter the buffer zone before the finish line—quietly, like the wind.

At the top of the slope, Hisoka stood beside a short tree.

The playing card at his fingertips stopped moving.

He did not smile again, nor did he say anything.

He merely softly uttered one word: "Strange..."

He lowered his head to look at the string of footprints on the ground that had left no trace, a faint question surfacing in his eyes.

Then he turned and slowly walked onto another side slope.

As though nothing had happened.

But everyone knew that if Hisoka "remembered" someone, he would never truly forget.

In this game, he had not turned over his hole cards.

But the deck was already on the table.