As Above (So Below)

Chapter Eight: Conviction

Suguru could feel him watching. The eyes of that angel, that demon, bored into his skin like drills. It was deeply unsettling. No matter how hard he tried to shake off the feeling of being stared at, Suguru felt trapped in the icy shackles of it.

He wondered if perhaps Satoru was singling him out already. What for? Suguru was not an outright threat; there was nothing special about him to warrant a manila folder or a precursory warning. Beyond the obvious strength he carried in his bones, there was no reason to have someone like Satoru staring daggers into the side of his head. By all accounts, he should be writing everyone off as simple obstacles to surpass, tiny jumps on a very short path to victory. But if that was the case, and for whatever reason Satoru had his eyes on Suguru (the same way Suguru's eyes were on Satoru), it posed an issue. Suguru had no intention of marching up to and getting into a fight to the death with Satoru in the arena, but he wouldn't be bested by him either. The most irritating part was that Suguru had likely – until this point – flown completely under the radar. Suguru wasn't much for garnering attention, and Satoru's was the last he expected, or wanted.

Perhaps it was the intensity at which Suguru wore his fury. His face was stoic, sure, but anyone smart enough could see the tension in his shoulders and the ticking in his jaw and know the expression was fake. Satoru was adept at that, or at least Suguru assumed he was. At some point during their classes – also operating under the assumption that Satoru went to CTS, because Suguru was sure he did – they must have been taught how to read body language. How to know when someone is lying, how to figure out their weak spots. Satoru must have been able to see through the cold, uncaring exterior Suguru was showing, because no one else - career or otherwise - turned Suguru's way.

Suguru couldn't hide the disgust on his face when he looked at Satoru. The first time had been an immediate response. There was nothing to hide the wonder on his face and the resentment that quickly took over. The second time however, Suguru's body was incapable of suppressing the hatred he felt upon seeing him, even after the shock wore off. It was a strange thing to both be so intrigued and so repulsed by someone. Suguru would be lying if he said Satoru wasn't attractive, but the haunting, piercing aura that emanated from him destroyed any magic there might have been. Plus, Suguru knew better. Even if Satoru wasn't Satoru, this was war. This was life or death. There was no room for anything other than unbridled rage and derision.

"Angel wings?" Hanami scoffed. "Unbelievable." Her voice dropped to a whisper as they fully pushed out of the crowd. Many of the other tributes remained near the hallway, bumbling around, trying to put off the ceremony as long as possible. This was it. The official, unavoidable beginning to the end of their lives. The Careers were plenty settled by the chariots, all high and mighty, looking from their thrones down at the little people. The outliers (the peasants) avoided the threshold like the plague. The second their feet were firmly planted in the backs of the chariots, the show began.

Suguru followed Yuki, the sick feeling of being watched still heavy on him. He looked back once more, trying to ward off the prickling that crept up his side, hoping that instead of those transfixing, glittering eyes it was just lingering anxiety. But, Satoru was still fucking staring. Maybe Suguru should give him a reason to. Maybe he should show him that yes, he did want to go home, and yes he was willing to kill for it. It was the exact same thing Satoru felt, he knew that much. Chosen for different reasons – if one could consider volunteering the same as being picked against one's will – but both just as set on returning to what they left behind. So, Suguru willed as much detestation as he could manage into his eyes and stared back a second time, proving to Satoru that he was to be feared.

Satoru's steely eye contact did not falter. His eyes had a misty quality to them, like he was entranced, lost somewhere beyond the room they were in. Suguru swallowed. He refused to break underneath the weight of it, but the force of the contact was crushing. He was locked in a battle, of what, he didn't know. There was no obvious malice in Satoru's eyes, only a mystical sort of wonder. Atmospheric, unwavering, and most of all, unsettling. Suguru held his breath.