“Where are you?†the boy hissed. By the time Loa had caught up and made it inside, the cat was already out-of-sight and hidden. There were three rooms here… an odd number. Shouldn’t it be only two? he thought. Oh, that’s right. The 2nd Dead Captain couldn’t bear to use the 1st Dead Captain’s room. Perhaps he had another room added in; or something along those lines. If only I could remember further back. Moving on, he turned his attention back to the damned cat. There was a presence in one of the rooms, that of a Shinigami (what else?). It was a familiar one, but he could not place it. Someone Dorrochet knew no doubt; let us leave them alone for now. They probably did not want my company anyway. “How about… Door number 2â€Â, Loa said aloud, quietly. He tip-toed past the occupied room and into the next, empty one: Dorrochet’s.
The sight of it disgusted him. Paperwork was on every surface; the desk, the bed, every cabinet, all over the floor, he could even see some peeking out from the closet. Which was, slightly open… kitty, are you there?
No, kitty was not. Just some paper, clothes… he kicked at it in frustration. There weren’t many other hiding places, so Loa went to simply snooping. He never did get to see this place in person. Seemingly drawn to it, he went towards the desk and started browsing through the various papers. What was written was lost on him. Bureaucracy was such an overly complicated mess; only Shinigami would bother with it. With a “hmphâ€Â, he swatted at a tall stack of paper, knocking the pages to the ground, and then sat in Dorrochet’s old chair. After a pause, he went about digging through desk drawers. Pens, some scrap paper; nothing much of interest. Then he hit "it" – Dorro’s old notebook. Such a silly thing… why put all your ideas into something others could read? He couldn’t help but feel some attachment to it, though, and decided to pilfer it. Not like anyone else would need it. Notebook in hand, he scanned the rest of the room, seeing nothing… oh, what is this. A dresser that wasn’t adorned with paper. Perhaps it is special!
No, it was not special; another disappointment. All that was in here were spare clothing... and, some sunglasses. The lenses had an orange tint to them, while the frame was black and quite thin. I shall pilfer this as well, he thought, plopping the pair on top of the book. Book in hand, he left for the next room; the First Dead Captain’s room. Nix’s old room.
Tip-toe out, tip-toe in. Why am I sneaking, he’d be able to sense me anyway.
When he first entered, he shivered. Captain Nix was the only other person in the Squad Loa had any genuine memories of – memories that were his own, and not Dorrochet’s. The room was cold, and quite unwelcoming. Everything in it was caked in a thin layer of dust; the sight of the neatly made, dusty bed made him feel uncomfortable. He did not want to be in here any longer than need be, so he quickly went to looking for the cat. Let’s start with under the bed; they always hide there. Loa sat the notebook and glasses down on the floor (he felt anywhere else would “disturb†the room) and then hopped down into a prone position, peeking underneath the bed.
There was no cat, again, and thus he … oh, what was that? Just within reach, he saw a black case. He couldn’t make out any other details from where he was. After a cautious look around the room, to make sure it was “safeâ€Â, he ducked back down and reached under. Loa could just barely touch it with the tip of his fingers. Not as close as I thought. With a grunt, he scooted himself forward, his shoulders just now under the bed. “And… got ya!â€Â
Don’t shout, you idiot. Can’t have him… Oh, what does it matter. He probably already knows I’m here… let’s hurry up, then.
Case in hand, he scooted back from underneath the bed, sitting himself up to look it over. It was a violin case, and inside was… well, a violin. It looked almost new; “Either he didn’t play much, or he kept good care of it,†he said, a small bit of excitement in his voice. It felt “specialâ€Â; something he was not meant to look at. A hidden treasure he had discovered. It felt too special to just leave behind, in fact, so he decided to add it to his loot. But he wouldn’t keep it; something this special was not meant to be with him. Perhaps father would know what to do.
With a sigh of content, he opened a small garganta to his left; on the other side of the portal, his room; and his bed, which the portal was situated above. Gently, he shoved the pile – notebook, glasses and violin – through it, and then closed it. Feeling he had done enough stealing, Loa decided it was probably best for him to leave too. He stood up…
“Mreow!â€Â
… And then turned around, to find a cat at his feet. The furry little bastard had a smug, victorious look on its little face. With what looked like a kitty-sneer, it dropped the envelop at his feet. Staring at the cat, Loa picked the envelope up; it was addressed to “Reaverâ€Â. Oh… that was his name, now I remember. What kind of name is that… While his conscience said not to read it, his childish side said to tear it open. And open it he did.
It didn’t say much. “’It wasn’t murder,†he read aloud, “’think of it more as suicide’… so, you planned it out. Like I didn’t know that already.†While he was tempted to crumple the letter up, it was important to the Shinigami… Which, didn’t matter much to him, but it would also clear his father’s name, which did matter to him, so he folded it back up and put it back in its envelope. His quest finished, he left the old Captain Nix’s room, cat following behind him, en route to Door Number 1.
Tip-toe, tip-toe…
