Hisoka's Gaze

The rain had stopped.

Yet the water on the ground had not receded, and the traces left by the sudden downpour still pooled upon the blades of grass, between the stone crevices, and beneath footprints. The mist clung to the air like a layer of cotton, thin yet persistent.

The examinees' paces gradually approached the terminal buffer zone, where rows of dwarf trees marked the "final stretch" area—a visual signal set in advance by the Association: they were almost there.

Yet everyone knew that until Satotz stopped and called out, it was not the true finish line.

This stretch of road was a psychological final trial.

-

Ryan still maintained Zetsu, walking along a rocky ridge path slightly off the main road. Not far behind him were a few examinees who followed his rhythm, but none dared to draw close. He said not a word, his figure neither fast nor slow, steadily maintaining a sense of distance that said, "You can see me, but don't come near."

At the corner of the slope ahead, by a wind-dried boulder, someone stood.

That person wore a multi-colored shirt, was tall and lean, and had hair as red as flames.

He did not block the path, merely leaning against the stone and gently twirling a playing card with his fingers, as though waiting for something or pondering something.

Hisoka.

Ryan's eyelids did not twitch, nor did his footsteps pause. He recognized the other man, yet did nothing.

The sound of footsteps grew from distant to near.

The playing card at Hisoka's fingertips halted slightly, coming to a stop.

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

"Hello there."

Ryan offered no reply, not even turning his head.

He knew that to respond was to give a signal. To Hisoka, as long as you were "interesting," he would begin to "record" you.

Silence was the safest disguise.

Hisoka was not annoyed. He slowly took two steps down from the boulder, his voice still sounding like he was talking to himself:

"You run quite steadily... clearly without any aura, yet every step is unhurried."

His gaze was not focused on Ryan, but the corners of his mouth curled into an enigmatic smile.

"Like a fish in the water, walking beneath the surface, yet leaving no bubbles."

Ryan did not turn his head, merely adjusting his stride slightly to plant his foot on a firmer rock, and continued onward.

Hisoka seemed to thoroughly enjoy this silence. He followed with two more steps, yet did not close the distance.

"Who are you, I wonder... hmm?"

He spoke in a low voice, his gaze suddenly contracting, turning sharp for a single instant.

In that instant, the air seemed to freeze.

It was not killing intent, but curiosity. That chilling, numbing kind of "interest."

Ryan kept his heartbeat at a steady pace, refusing to let it quicken. He simply shifted sideways to avoid an angled stone, cutting diagonally downward in an "extremely natural" manner to bypass the slope and enter the grass strip on the other side of the main road.

His movement held no trace of haste, yet it was precise and crisp—not looking like panic, but rather like a "preparer" who had judged the terrain in advance.

Hisoka smiled.

Not a loud laugh, but the corners of his mouth pressed a fraction deeper.

"Ha... truly interesting."

He did not give chase, nor did he speak again, merely continuing to stand in place and dropping that playing card to the ground beside his feet.

Face up—it was the Queen of Hearts.

He whispered a single sentence, "Pity it's not an Ace." Then, slowly turning around, he walked away with his back to the direction of the hillside.

-

Ryan confirmed he had left Hisoka's field of vision before slightly tightening his fingertips.

His fingertips were faintly damp with sweat. He knew that this encounter, while leaving him unexposed, had also left behind a vague "outline."

Not of who he was.

But that "there is someone unusually steady for a newcomer."

He could no longer walk in such a distinctive manner.

He had to readjust his rhythm, blending back into a more "ordinary" fluctuating current.

The running was not yet over.

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

The post-rain grass was still seeping water, the soil loose, emitting a faint "squelch" as it was stepped upon, like the whisper of water leaking from a crack.

Ryan descended the slope, his pace failing to quicken, maintaining that unhurried, untroubled rhythm. Yet he had quietly adjusted his route, cutting from the previously offset rock-and-grass strip into a main road flowline on the center-left.

Here, the crowd was dense and the rhythm chaotic.

Some breathed heavily, some walked with unstable footing, while others ran while chanting under their breath: "Hang in there a little longer... almost there..."

This route belonged to the "low-attention tier" of the examination hall—neither focused upon by the examiners nor trusted by companions.

Yet for Ryan, it was just right.

He did not want to reach the finish line too early. He also knew that Hisoka's earlier remark of "Who are you" had been lighthearted, yet was already enough to signify that the man had remembered his existence.

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

He could no longer walk with such stability and precision.

Otherwise, he would become a target to be "made a little more interesting."

Thus, he began intentionally misstepping once or twice—not falling, but mimicking the scattered rhythm of physical exhaustion; he slipped near a small puddle, then took two seconds to recover before moving on.

After that, he coughed, as if moisture from the rain had entered his nose and mouth.

The examinees beside him did not look his way, merely subconsciously clearing a path.

That was enough.

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

-

Meanwhile, in the main observation deck, Association examiners were huddled together over a dynamic data chart.

"Candidate 199, trajectory changed abruptly."

"Shifted from the side route to the middle section, fluctuation frequency showing unstable traits... previous marker vanished?"

"Physical stamina issue? Or environmental judgment?"

One of the observers frowned and rewound the earlier footage: "Did he just... approach Hisoka?"

"Almost no communication, only a brief close-range pass," another immediately replied. "However, Number 44 Hisoka subsequently stood and observed for roughly eight seconds, without pursuit."

He glanced at the data display for Candidate 199, then glanced at another finish-line tracking panel before stating indifferently:

"Mark him as [Variable Examinee - Observation Grade], exclude him from primary observation, but retain his data long-term."

-

Ryan did not know whether the Association had detected everything he had just done.

Yet he knew his strategy of "avoiding the sharp edge" had temporarily succeeded.

He melted into the crowd, appearing as an utterly ordinary examinee. No one spoke to him, nor did anyone spare him a second glance.

He even bypassed a young man who was visibly cramping, casually helping him straighten his backpack without sparing him a single look.

Then he kept running.

He did not need to put on a performance, nor could he afford to.

He only needed to "safely cross this stretch of road," enter the pre-finish buffer zone—quietly, like the wind.

-

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

The playing card at his fingertips had stopped moving.

He no longer smiled, nor did he speak.

He merely whispered a single word: "Strange..."

He lowered his gaze to the trail of traceless footprints on the ground, a hint of ambiguous doubt surfacing in his eyes.

Then he turned, slowly walking into another side slope.

As though nothing had happened at all.

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

In this game, he had not flipped his bottom card.

Yet that deck was already resting upon the table.