The eye of resentment—

pricked by shards of ice

—has broken lenses.

Peekaboo.

_______________________________

It had been long since Iolani had woke to the sound of Lyra's chirp; and this to him—provided a soothing comfort to morning blues.

Peace swayed like a blossom in the wind, hovering in the air while it lasted. The boy turned to see that his roommate was still asleep.

His feet swung out of the warm comfort under his covers and touched the cold floor. No slippers for the sparrow. The sound of them tapping against the floor would wake Jiro up.

Io crossed the bedroom towards the bath, retrieving a face towel along the way and a set of his school uniform that he had ironed the night before. The picnic with Professor Callaghan had left him rather restless yesterday—partly because of the spilled questions that felt very much like a puddle of water in the rain, going nowhere; and partly because of the absence of their third (if Callaghan was to be considered as the first) member.

He never turned up.

These restless sentiments he had translated into action; ironing, cleaning, packing and finishing several assignments that he had missed out during his stay in the infirmary. It was only near midnight that he had begun to feel the weight of the day on his shoulders, which he had gladly yielded himself to.

At this point of time, there seemed to Io nothing to worry about. Not a single heavy cloud in the sky; and not a note of darkness in the coming light.

Strangely however—and a little ironically—extreme peace and tranquility could leave a heart unsettled;

And even rather displeased.

_________________________________

Perhaps it was the still and seeking air that slithered to his attention. The morning light filtered through the open hallways in its pale and dry state, siding a horde of students in their journey to the lockers that lined the sides of the corridor.

Among the students was Io—picking his way through the morning mass of prey to his tiny locker; and even then, when this had been achieved, he had to wait for the person whose locker was above his to take their books. And in the process his shoe was stepped on twice, apologized to thrice, and his shoulder bumped an equal amount of times.

With the way things were progressing (and the crowd appearing not to thin in the slightest), Io figured that he was most probably going to be late.

This, in fact, did not sound comforting at all especially since Pipa wasn't here to put their minds together and recall the routes to their assigned venues. Which would most likely result in the exacerbation of this matter.

"Morning," Someone tapped his shoulder as they passed along. Io turned with a puzzled expression, eyes following their back.

Not an ounce of recognition surfaced in his sky of memories.

Sweeping that aside as if it was merely a passing cloud, the boy turned back to his combination padlock.

The shackle freed itself upon release—dangling.

The door of his locker swung upon.

He didn't notice it at first; not until he had retrieved his books for his next two classes—one, a tutorial on Ecology and next a lecture on flight theory.

It was lying flat at the bottom of the dark, enclosed space—only visible after his books were safe in his arms.

How long had it been there?

The thought itself settling disturbingly in his cage and the fact that it hadn't been deposited into his locker through the slits by the side didn't sit well with him either.

The envelope was blank; seemingly addressed to no one in particular.

Io managed—for a brief few seconds—to convince himself that the sender had mistook his locker for someone else's.

After all, who could possibly be looking for him?

He closed the locker and slid the padlock back into place, clicking the shackles shut. There was a bin ahead, and he planned to dispose it right then and there—

But of course;

Curiosity got the better of this sparrow.

Lyra hadn't spoken all morning. It was then that she made a comment, reminding her Winged that he might be invading someone else's privacy.

The boy wanted to believe his Avian but for some reason; he felt that the letter was indeed—addressed to him.

He slipped the parchment paper out of the unsealed envelope, revealing its folded state. Pressed; barely touched.

Surely, this was a mistake? He began to unfold the letter. A prank that someone had decided to pull while his name rested on many tongues after the Season games—

Io laughed.

This, he would regret later.

But right now, this instant—he laughed.

There was only one line inked on the parchment paper;

Where are you?

_______________________________

The boy arrived at his first class barely cutting it late; slipping through the open door with a small air of silence.

Attention was unnecessary.

Eyes; unwanted.

And yet—all eyes were on him.

They followed as he took his seat with his head bowed low; how strange. The sparrow noticed not the odd disposition of his classmates till he finally looked up from the silence with his heart beating curiously. Loud and curious in the unconcerned.

But concerned they were, these Marks.

Indeed, there had to be some reason for the focus of their gaze—not one not two but everyone; all, all of them. All of them were looking at him.

Io blinked, a sudden fear rising from within as his eyes darted from lens to lens; window to window,; orb to orb; life to life—what was going on?

The boy admitted quietly that yes, he was late; but it served no connection between such treatment and the mentioned. He was confused.

It was not until the student in front of Io diverted his gaze to something else that things began to sink into place.

Sinking was a terrible feeling.

To the boy it felt very much like another form of falling—the depth of it unknown; the act of gravity on flesh and bone—it was, for all intents and purposes, a slow form of a fall.

And the higher he was, the harder it felt.

Heights.

How fearful these things were—but at least they were fast.

Slow death was ugly.

*

The student in front had directed his gaze to the blackboard. And as all humans would do, Io followed.

Words took time to register like always, but these words—especially long.

"My apologies for being late," Ah, the tutor. Perhaps he would make things right. "The meeting dragged on for another—oh."

His feet stopped in front of the blackboard, eyes wide.

Silence had become a habit of the prey. It didn't seem to matter as much anymore.

"Did...did any of you—" He hesitated. Then began anew, "I would like you all to know that vandalism is strictly forbidden in the school. If I ever find out who did this..."

The tutor had picked up a duster from the teacher's desk, intending to erase the words on the board—out of sight, out of mind but.

But.

"Claw marks...?"

He turned on the class, eyes scanning. "I'm inspecting your Avians after this. Anyone who thinks the blackboard a scratching post shall be punished and I do not care if they spell out fancy words or not—this is an act of vandalism."

The class responded not; silent as they were and even the tutor seemed aware of the fact that the blackboard could no longer be used.

All it took were three words.

"I'll...I'll be thanking the person who did this," The tutor cleared his throat in attempt to sound mocking and sarcastic. "Because now you all will have to pay close attention to anything that I say. Gone are the visual cues that aid you in answering questions; now will be the time to put your meagre attention span to the test."

A painful sigh swept the room; diverting their eyes away from the sparrow. He was, for all intents and purposes, saved.

But saving didn't necessarily relieve the crushing weight of a gaze since no matter where he was or what he saw—

He felt as if he was being watched.

Thus; throughout the entire lesson with little effort, Io was able to keep himself inattentive and rattled. There was no need to think or do, for this came almost naturally to the tiny prey.

It clung to the cage of his heart like the weight of truth—a heavy burden that refused to leave. And even more so as he passed the blackboard upon the prompt dismissal of class; eyes reflecting the dullness of the floor beneath his feet.

Still, it hadn't occurred to the tutor that the supposed vandalism was—in fact—a message. And the message, in fact, a game. And this game, in fact, a warning.

There were many things that entailed the invitation of a game.

One; Io supposed, were the players involved—after all, every game needed its players.

Two; was the challenge that it posed—almost like an invitation of danger.

Three; fun.

A game always entailed fun.

But fun—for who?

For me; or for you?

He exited the class, leaving behind all eyes and ears—and the blackboard with scratches.

Scratches that reminded him of this game. A game that he recalled playing—no. A game that everyone had played. Everyone had played it, at some point.

"What does it mean by 'I see you'?"

"I don't know. It means what it means, doesn't it—"

I SEE YOU

____________________________

"—Io?"

It was lunch, and the boy could not remember the number of times he had felt eyes on him. This must have been the ninth, or tenth since the past two hours—and that didn't bode well for him in the very least.

He looked up in response, meeting the gaze of his friends.

"I'm sorry, I...I wasn't listening."

"That's fine," Nash shrugged upon the sparrow's confession. "He wasn't saying anything important."

Vijay, who was the apparent victim of the myna's insult, turned to him with a frown. "That's rude. I was asking if we should drop by the infirmary later to check on Pipa—"

"—which isn't exactly the most important thing in the world," Nash finished without looking up from his plate of potato wedges (which had been sprinkled with a ridiculous amount of salt moments before).

Io's class president sighed in defeat. "Says the one who visits her anyway."

"Tch," Nash snorted, looking away.

On the opposite side of the table, Io smiled. He thought that Pipa would've been pleased to have heard this, since she herself worried often for Nash.

Vijay—who was sitting across Io and beside Nash—had his eyes on something over the sparrow's shoulder. His Avian cocked her head to the side, as if confused.

Soon the myna, too, followed his gaze.

Distracted, Io continued to stare into space; the motion of spooning tasteless porridge into his mouth almost robotic—without thought. It was only when the distracted had yet another distraction, that his mind was able to jumpstart into the action of thought.

But was thought an action?

Vijay and Nash lowered their heads with a startling jerk—as if someone had pushed them into a sudden bow. Their gaze remained fixed on their laps. Still.

"Guys?" Io began, a flooding concern pooling in his cage. "What's wrong?"

He was about to look over his shoulder.

"Don't!" Nash hissed, head bowed lower than before—almost shrinking into his seat. "Don't turn, you idiot."

Vijay swallowed hard. "S-Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't," The myna muttered under his breath. "Apparently I was dumb enough to follow your gaze too."

Things were shaking the bars of his cage.

"What—"

Io sometimes wondered if it was a rhetorical question. What? Seemed as if it needed no answer. It was the type of question that simply prompted the mind to think—embark on the process and acknowledge, at least, the surface of the subject. It was in times like this; that one would speak the word with the intention of yielding a response. The response however, wasn't necessarily expected to be the true surface of the subject.

In fact, we often already know the surface of the sky; we just don't know what's beyond it.

And perhaps that was what we truly sought.

"It's the vulture," Nash said—almost simply.

He turned to the boy beside. "Do you think he could tell we were looking?"

"I...I mean, that's why he looked, right?"

"Yes but weren't you just staring at the door?" It was a futile insistence, but the myna voiced it nevertheless.

Vijay nodded, raising his head slightly. "Well yeah but. But maybe he mistook us for looking at him."

Io tried to piece the picture. "Did Vaughn walk into the hall?"

"What the—" Nash raised his gaze just enough to glare at the boy sitting across. "Don't you know that people are most sensitive to their names? I can practically hear mine a mile away, stupid."

The sparrow recoiled.

"Sorry."

Nash clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Yes he walked in, okay? And the first thing he did was look here."

"He—he kind of...turned," Vijay said very carefully. "In our direction."

"You think he saw us?"

"Maybe."

"He saw us. I'm sure of it."

"He saw us," Nash repeated.

______________________________

Vaughn was fond of having a bird's eye view.

He could see many things—

Even when things wouldn't necessarily see him.

_______________________________

Locking himself in his room was—for all intents and purposes—the best possible solution that Io had derived at since the end of his afternoon lectures. It being the slowest time of the day, his mind seemed to be able to reflect the snail-like progress of time and unconsciously dragged his thoughts around in a similar manner.

Withering here and there but finally deciding to take refuge from the eye in the sky and it's baking rays of heat, the boy went to his dorm—away from this eye; and perhaps, all the other eyes.

He closed and locked the door behind him with a resounding click, before stealing a glance at his bed.

Rest was a tempting prospect.

But what with the endless amount of assignments and upcoming events such as the two balls he had barely practiced for, Io could not afford the luxury of sleep.

So out came his books and pens and paper, pooling over his desk as if the heat had stolen their means and purpose, just like the owner himself.

It was unbearably hot.

The sound of the bell startled Io. It didn't occur to him that his roommate would join him too—at this time of the day. After all, sophomores did have more classes to attend.

He reasoned within that perhaps Jiro had come to hide from the strange glaring sun just like himself. Lyra seemed to agree for she gave a pleasant chirp, voicing her thoughts on a nightingale's preference for shade.

Of course—the nagging alternative that the person behind the door was, in fact, not his roommate. Nevertheless, it was unlikely. And Io did not like to jump to conclusions, as much as sparrows themselves liked to.

He peered through the peephole.

Jiro was waiting patiently in front of the door, hands clasped behind his back while his Avian sat obediently on his shoulder. He looked a little tired.

The sparrow apologized immediately upon unfastening the bolt and opening the door. "Ah, I wasn't expecting classes to end so quickly."

His roommate smiled kindly, bowing his head in greeting. Io held the door open while Jiro padded into the room.

Immediately, the nightingale noticed an unsettled air around the former.

He scrambled for pen and paper.

Bad day? ;_;

Io glanced up from the tiny note to the searching eyes of his roommate. He shook his head with a defeated smile.

"A little."

Jiro folded his arms.

"Okay, yes," The sparrow laughed in return, and Jiro nodded with unassuming eyes.

Would you like to talk about it? My predator gave me a tub of ice-cream, but I don't think I can finish it. Let's share (' v ')

Io did. He couldn't find a way to tell Nash or Vijay of the incident that occurred this morning. Not after what happened at lunch.

There was simply too much to say but no way to voice—and he did think of talking to Pipa in the infirmary but even the act of doing made guilt seize his heart. Pipa had enough to worry about; even when she was asleep.

"What flavor is it?" He was curious. "The ice-cream."

Not that he minded, really. They've only had ice pops back in the village, and flavors like tiramisu or caramel seemed barely sensible as compared to the common vanilla.

The nightingale rummaged through his book bag, producing a waterproof drawstring pouch that contained an icepack and the main highlight.

It had Cookies & Cream written on the tub.

_____________________________________

Io told him about the letter; the words scratched onto the blackboard; and the eyes at lunch. His roommate had listened attentively, nodding at certain intervals with concerned eyes before looking very troubled at the end of the story.

The guilt hit him almost instantly. After all, Io hadn't intended to cause worry in the hearts of others when such happenings belonged to his own world experience.

Something had to be said to null the fear in his heart.

"A coincidence," He lied. "That's all. Besides, Season lasts until the Hunt Ball, doesn't it? I mean—a lot of people are being hunted as of now. Not to mention I've been in the infirmary since the games..." Io laughed.

"Just startled by the means they use, that's all," He added, as if to convince himself.

The nightingale, of course, didn't buy this. But he felt that it would be wrong of him to dampen unconvincing lies with acid truth. Besides, it didn't necessarily mean that what he would say was the truth. They were merely assumptions and wild guesses—though more probable and convincing—that still remained short of the truth.

Ice-cream however, helped lighten the mood.

I think it's best if you wait and see

It would only cause unnecessary worry if you read too much into it anyway *-*

"You're right," The sparrow nodded agreeably. "I've got so much to do, either way. And there's that dance I've yet to learn—ah I'm so terrible at it..."

Jiro blinked.

"Oh, oh I forgot to tell you about the dance classes that they make us go through!" Various complaints of all sorts and sizes ensued, encouraged by the constant acknowledgements that they received.

Apparently, only first-years were obligated to attend such classes. Perhaps they thought a year of horrible dancing was enough; and that the rest of the time should be allocated to self-learning (which, on Io's part, would be non-existent).

They talked about the Hunt Ball—because that was the only one that prey were allowed to attend—and remarked about the exclusivity still.

"Nash and Vijay can't come unless they're invited by a predator," The sparrow faltered in disappointment. "Pipa would have loved to wear her favorite dress. And I bet she'd dance better than the whole lot of us."

I'm sure Ms. Pipa would. And don't worry Io! You won't be alone at the Hunt Ball

I'll be there too /.\

"Oh!" His face softened upon reading the words of the nightingale's heart. "You're coming too? Thank God—I was so worried that I'd be stuck with the rest of the participants. The Season games, I mean. I was invited because I played."

Jiro nodded.

Predators with prey usually bring their favorite one to the Hunt Ball. It's not that I'm his favorite though! .//////. I'm his only prey so.

I'll definitely see you there!

The Japanese boy looked up with a shy smile—sheepish.

Io wanted very much to ask about the Commemoration Ball; the one that Luka had specifically requested him to be invited to.

Though it had been an honorable request indeed, it didn't change the fact that the sparrow knew literally nothing about such an event. All he knew was that as the supposed victor of the games (ah, did he really care about that in the end?), he would be the first prey in centuries to attend the evening ball.

It only crossed his mind now that he had to have two outfits for the respective balls. Well, Io (being Io) had none.

"Jiro, do you know anything about the Commemoration Ball? And—uh, must I wear something different from what I wore in the afternoon?"

The nightingale laughed; a pleasant, soothing sound.

You don't have to worry about the dress code, Io! Only predators are allowed to dress for the ball. Marks wear the school uniform—unless advised by their predator to do otherwise ^-^"

As for the details regarding the evening ball—

Io thought it curiously peculiar for school uniform to be a legitimate outfit to wear to any ball at all. He pictured himself against the background of a grand evening in the ballroom—wearing his school uniform.

It didn't seem to match.

"Did Mr. Owl tell you to wear the uniform too?"

Jiro was in the midst of completing his answer to the sparrow's previous question. He wrote his reply to the newly posed question on the flip side of the paper.

He didn't say anything about dressing for the ball, so I'm assuming it's a yes ^-^"

Ah, what a pity, Io thought. He was certainly curious about the traditional Japanese kimono; had his roommate been allowed to wear it.

Jiro tapped the sparrow's shoulder—presenting a well-written, detailed text about the Commemoration Ball.

In any case, it only made Io more concerned about the imminent occasion. Worried, even. He hadn't expected this at all;

It is to commemorate the birth of Falrir, the great dragon! He was born on the longest night of the year, so every winter solstice he pays us a visit as the oldest and most respected Winged. Falrir is also the most powerful amongst the predators, so it's hard for us to even look at him when he's in his human form...

Maybe that's why we aren't allowed to go, he added shortly after. Like a side note.

Io found this rather surprising. He had assumed that all Avians were...well, birds that existed on earth. This assumption—though he knew not where it came from—turned out to be flawed. After all, this was a different world.

A world in the sky.

___________________________

Luka was someone who found a strange beauty in first introductions; as unlikely as it may seem.

It wasn't that the words after the dream-like moment mattered any less—in fact, the dream only lasted for a mere few seconds, a brief, fleeting moment never to be returned—it was simply because it was a moment of change, per se.

From that moment, strangers would become...acquaintances.

Or so he had thought for all his life.

But for all intents and purposes, this wasn't the first time the eagle had met the sparrow.

It wasn't at all.

______________________________

A/N:

Hello dear ^0^/ I'm so terribly sorry for the late update...it wasn't intentional. You see, this chapter amounted up to a total of 12k + words :< I had to separate it into 3 parts or you guys will be @.@ by the end of it. Which means that Io and Luka will appear in the last of the 3 ;__; I'm still doing some last few amendments to the next parts so I hope you'll wait patiently ;_; I'll upload the next part in about 3 days or so, and then another 3 days for the final one. Again, I'm terribly sorry ;_;

Meanwhile,

JIRO IS SO CUTE

-Cuppicake.