O - Opulent, P - Poland & Q - Questions
a-ö meme
P was one of the first fics I wrote for this meme, whereas O just had to wait for ages while I battled with first Q, then the nordic exchange fic...and then Q AGAIN. Still not entirely happy with that, but I don't want to get stuck on it forever, so it'll have to do as is.
Still, Opulent and Questions are kinda interesting because they sort of have the same theme, presented through two different characters...in this case Ken'yuu and Hakkai. =3=
Title: Opulent, prompt from rroselavy
Author: stalkerbunny
Rating: PG
Fandom, Characters: Saiyuki, (primarily) Ken'yuu & Koumyou.
A.N: Reading this again, I can't help thinking "Ahaha...you poor hapless bastard." I'm not sure if that means did something wrong or right...but I rather like it.
The world, as Ken'yuu sees it, is a dreary, grey place. He has heard people speak of darkness as if it's something deep and mysterious...but he has looked into it, and it's nothing much either. In the end he decides people only make such a fuss over it because they're afraid.
He almost wishes he were, that might at least be less boring.
So he keeps looking around, but books are only a collection of dusty dead words, and professors and so called wise people all parrot out those very same words, with a new spin, if they are slightly cleverer, but it's never anything he couldn't have found out on his own.
People live, and then they die and become dust and are forgotten. Dead words, minds set on meaningless tasks, and under everyone's skin the same old, same red blood that dries up into dreary brown too soon. Uninteresting.
Time falls on his shoulder like dust, day after day and year after year, and he feels old. It seems he has already accomplished everything worth doing, and found it not worth the time spent on it. Seen everything and found it not worth looking at. It makes him feel old, wonder if one day he will find that he is old and grey and hasn't still accomplished anything worth remembering.
It's no better at the temple, with the other novices who claim to strive for holiness but are no better than a bunch of monkeys who fawn and do as they're told when the instructor is watching, and make dirty jokes about him behind his back. Ken'yuu says it all to his face, only more wittily than the others could ever think of, and the idiots adore him for it.
Adore and envy him, and he wonders what they say about him when he doesn't hear, but doesn't particularly care. He can guess well enough anyway, they're not that unpredictable.
Nothing much is, as Ken'yuu has come to know.
Being a Sanzo sounds interesting, in theory. Even though...he has seen the sutra supposedly used in the creation of the world, once, and it looked like any common scripture to him. So he is doubtful, but maybe it'll be worth a try. It's not like he has anything better to do at that moment.
And then, one day, one entirely ordinary day while he is heckling the instructor for some mild entertainment, Ken'yuu sees something bright from the corner of his eye, and turns, like a crow to a flash of sunlight on bright metal. He sees the man following Goudai, instantly analyzing and categorizing him.
Another Sanzo, obviously...and that is interesting, aren't they supposed to keep the sutras apart...but then theory is never practice, is it? This one is nothing like the Spartan Goudai. He has long, golden hair that falls down his back in an extravagant ponytail, and he's pretty, with a few wrinkles that probably merely made him look more handsome than he did as a youth, Ken'yuu could imagine it. Still, he's young for a Sanzo...which tells Ken'yuu who he is, because he's not deaf, and has every intention of breaking this man's record as the youngest Sanzo ever.
He is laughing carefreely when Ken'yuu turns, yet another contrast with Goudai, and then it's like a shadow passes over his face, as Goudai says something, and Ken'yuu just knows, with a odd thrill, that they're talking about him. And he smiles, just in case Koumyou is looking. An idle challenge to someone who has caught his eye, not that he's expecting much of a competition.
He would find out later just how wrong he was about that.
It takes him a long time to understand it, too long, that the true nature of darkness isn't in the absence of light, but to be its opposite. That there is no deep shadow without the light to measure it against.
All he knows as he sits in a barred room, the marks of fingers on his wrist still aching like a new brand, is that his world has suddenly been thrown into deep, bright contrast. That the edge of moonlight and shadow is sharp as a knife's edge, capable of cutting his destiny in half. He listens to Koumyu's words, calm and as cool as the moonlight, and wonders if this is his chance to be something, slipping by while he is powerless to grasp it. Beneath the trivial burn of disappointment, Ken'yuu is not sure if the other feeling he's feeling is relief or bland despondency.
There is the soft click of an opened lock, and when Ken'yuu turns, the barred window is free of any shadow, only pure moonlight streaming in.
*
Title: Poland, prompt from glareola
Author: stalkerbunny
Rating: PG
Fandom, Characters: Saiyuki(+ sneak crossover with Hetalia), Hazel.
A.N: This was written a while ago, before I realiced how much of a fandom thing Poland's crossdressing actually is...just imagine there was some pressing reason for it here? ^_^;;;
The train station was busy, with people carting luggage to and fro, parents yelling to find their children and children crying...and still, Hazel felt that someone was giving him a Look.
He turned, and found it was a young girl, just on the cusp of adulthood. She was sitting on a crate and waving her legs so that the heels of her shoes clicked against said crate in a sharp staccato, and most importantly, glaring at him in an accusing fashion.
Hazel raised an eyebrow at the girl, and she shook her short fair hair out of her face and sat up straighter, hands clutching the edge of the crate.
"You, mister, come here!" the girl snapped, like a princess calling to an errant servant...or a child calling a dog to heel.
Hazel's mouth twitched, and he wasn't sure if he ought to be annoyed or amused. But something about this girl...despite her childish demeanour, something told him he should be at least polite towards her. And besides, he was a gentleman after all.
"How can I help you, my lady?" Hazel asked, his politeness only slightly exaggerated in jest.
The girl preened, though she still gave him a rather accusing look.
"You're Hazel Grouse, right?" she said, not waiting for a confirmation. "And you're leaving."
Hazel blinked, and then frowned slightly.
"Yes, but I'm not sure what..."
"Everyone is leaving!" the girl said crossly, slamming her hand against the crate. She accompanied this declaration with a furious pout that made her opinion on the issue very clear.
Hazel laughed helplessly, amused by the display. Then he schooled his face into a more understanding expression.
"It is a pity indeed, little miss."
The girl sighed, giving him a dark look.
"To America, right?" she said in resigned fashion.
How had she known that? Ah, it was not like he'd been keeping it secret, and he was rather famous. So it had to be rumours.
"Yes."
The girl crossed her arms and turned her gaze to the distance. She was still pouting childishly, but somehow she looked older suddenly. She seemed to look over and through the bustle of the train station and the dark, hulking trains, to somewhere further away.
Then she turned a sharp green gaze towards Hazel again, nodding her head as if having decided something.
"Farewell then, if you're going anyways," she said archly, and then promptly jumped off the crate and disappeared into the throng, opening a pink parasol.
Hazel looked after her, bemused. Then he shrugged.
One did always meet the most peculiar people while travelling.
*
Title: Questions, prompt from ginnyvos
Author: stalkerbunny
Rating: PG
Fandom, Characters: Saiyuki, Hakkai pov + rest of the ikkou.
When he was a young child, Gonou had a lot of questions.
Why were his parents dead? Why had they taken his sister to another orphanage? Was there a God? He thought probably not. At least not one that gave a damn about people, because it didn't seem like that.
Why am I alive?
He asked them, even, a few times, but never got any satisfying answers, so eventually he stopped. It seemed a more reliable method to look for the answers to his questions himself. However, his own heart seemed to have little to say on the matter, beyond a wordless, sorrowful anger. Listening to that didn't seem to lead anywhere, so Gonou turned to books instead. And while they didn’t answer his questions either, they did provide cleaner cut and simple questions to seek answers to.
It was not happiness, but as close to contentment as he could find.
He was a student, drifting about idly at some small town festival, that an old woman, sitting hunched at the shade of a house gripped his wrist in a bony hand. She said she’d read his future, and Gonou smiled, benign and disbelieving. If you wish, he replied, uncaringly.
She had looked, and sighed, shaking her head sadly.
“Poor boy…such a short lifeline…” she said pityingly, and Gonou though…oh. But does it really matter?
Later, he found his sister, and started listening to his heart again. He wondered, later, if it was inexperience with feeling anything that made him go too far, deaf to the voice of reason altogether.
Do I deserve to live?
Sanzo shrugged.
"Your life, your job to find out," he said, not even looking at Hakkai.
He was smoking, the smoke drifting out and bleeding into the grey sky over the monastery.
"What if I can't?"
"Tch," Sanzo huffed, his brows crinkling in annoyance.
Hakkai kept looking at him blankly. He already knew Sanzo had little patience with complaints, no matter the reason. But then Hakkai wouldn't have spoken with him if he wished to be comforted.
Sanzo gave him a sharp, piercing look, eyes narrowed in study.
"One thing I do know, dying is easy. If I were you, I'd ask myself whether I deserve to do that. But it's your choice." he said abruptly, voice blank and unsympathetic.
His eyes looked very old at that moment, Hakkai thought.
What is there to live for?
Gojyo told him about his childhood one evening, over a game of cards. Neither of their attention was really on the game by the end of it. Gojyo was shuffling the deck automatically, clearly just to have something to occupy his hands and eyes.
Hakkai was still, holding his own deck in unmoving fingers. Then he closed the neat fan of cards carefully and placed it on the table, and placed his hands on it. He found he had a desire to reach out and push away the hair that had fallen into Gojyo's face. Strange, Hakkai had never considered himself a tactile person. Gojyo was, though. Perhaps it had rubbed off on him...oh, but he was digressing.
He was...not exactly surprised, he supposed.
While all of his friend’s scars weren’t as visible as the ones marring his cheek, their presence could still be sensed by one who knew what to look for…or cared to. He wondered if that was the reason Gojyo tended to surround himself with people who tended not to.
He had known him long enough, by then, to have seen how he reacted to anyone bringing attention to his hair, or those aforementioned scars…the way he’d gone cold suddenly, smile dying for a moment before returning sharp edged and fake. Indeed, Gojyo did not wish to remember his past.
“Why did you tell this to me?” Hakkai asked, genuinely curious.
Gojyo shrugged.
“Figured it was only fair, huh?” he said glibly. “Besides you never know…something might come up.”
Then he resumed the game of cards, with more concentration than before.
“Ah, of course. I hope no more surprise visits such as Mr. Banri,” Hakkai replied smoothly.
Gojyo let out a short bark of a laugh.
“Yeah, don’t think so…and even Banri himself knows better than to show his face round here too soon,” he said, without much malice. Hakkai wondered if Gojyo himself would have even welcomed him back…ah, but of course he couldn’t have, he’d have been dead.
“That’s good, I’d hate to have to clean the mess…” Hakkai said softly.
Gojyo raised an eyebrow at him, and then smiled, just one corner of his mouth turning up. Accepting the sentiment, threat and all.
It was only then that Hakkai realized what he’d been saying earlier. You should know this, since you’ll be staying around, right? Oh. He glanced up, but Gojyo seemed to inspecting his cards, with his usual careless poker face.
Well, he supposed it was true, in any case.
Will I be allowed to live, after all I've done?
Slowly, slowly the reasons to live started piling up, like dust to those corners one can never quite get clean. Like on top of the cabinet where you forget to wipe.
There was Gojyo, whose idea of adequate hygiene was throwing things out when started creating new life forms…and then only if said life forms physically attacked him. There was Goku, who needed someone to teach him reading and writing and basic mathematics, for which Sanzo had far too little patience. Sanzo himself, who had personally promised to the three aspects that Hakkai was his responsibility.
Don’t thank me, I expect you not to need babysitting. Sanzo had told him afterwards, and Hakkai had agreed, bemused. He hadn’t known him as well as he did now, back then.
Without quite meaning to, he found he’d made himself…if not necessary, at least expected. That to leave would leave the others unbalanced, with an empty place in their lives where they expected a Hakkai.
It was new, and almost unsettling. Perhaps most unsettling for not seeming more so.
For the first time he remembered the woman and her prediction. For the first time he was worried. Certainly the others could go on without him, if necessary, but…well, it would be a rather big inconvenience, wouldn’t it?
Even if he could have done that, left his companions to deal with the mission on their own, of course when his past dredged itself out of the grave once again, dead and rotted but not dead enough in the form of Chin Iisou, it didn’t come for him alone, but for his companions.
That was karma for you, Hakkai thought with dark humour.
They survived that time. But it was close, too close. He still didn’t fear death all that much, Hakkai told himself as he stared at his palm, at the lifeline that was a faint, short groove. But he could not bear to lose the place he’d gained, not again.
And then there was Goku, the permanent marker a shock of cold as it drew a thick, bold dash over the lifeline, drowning it in pitch black ink.
Life is what you make of it. it said, sure and simple. Very like Goku, to be the wisest when he said nothing.
*
P was one of the first fics I wrote for this meme, whereas O just had to wait for ages while I battled with first Q, then the nordic exchange fic...and then Q AGAIN. Still not entirely happy with that, but I don't want to get stuck on it forever, so it'll have to do as is.
Still, Opulent and Questions are kinda interesting because they sort of have the same theme, presented through two different characters...in this case Ken'yuu and Hakkai. =3=
Title: Opulent, prompt from rroselavy
Author: stalkerbunny
Rating: PG
Fandom, Characters: Saiyuki, (primarily) Ken'yuu & Koumyou.
A.N: Reading this again, I can't help thinking "Ahaha...you poor hapless bastard." I'm not sure if that means did something wrong or right...but I rather like it.
The world, as Ken'yuu sees it, is a dreary, grey place. He has heard people speak of darkness as if it's something deep and mysterious...but he has looked into it, and it's nothing much either. In the end he decides people only make such a fuss over it because they're afraid.
He almost wishes he were, that might at least be less boring.
So he keeps looking around, but books are only a collection of dusty dead words, and professors and so called wise people all parrot out those very same words, with a new spin, if they are slightly cleverer, but it's never anything he couldn't have found out on his own.
People live, and then they die and become dust and are forgotten. Dead words, minds set on meaningless tasks, and under everyone's skin the same old, same red blood that dries up into dreary brown too soon. Uninteresting.
Time falls on his shoulder like dust, day after day and year after year, and he feels old. It seems he has already accomplished everything worth doing, and found it not worth the time spent on it. Seen everything and found it not worth looking at. It makes him feel old, wonder if one day he will find that he is old and grey and hasn't still accomplished anything worth remembering.
It's no better at the temple, with the other novices who claim to strive for holiness but are no better than a bunch of monkeys who fawn and do as they're told when the instructor is watching, and make dirty jokes about him behind his back. Ken'yuu says it all to his face, only more wittily than the others could ever think of, and the idiots adore him for it.
Adore and envy him, and he wonders what they say about him when he doesn't hear, but doesn't particularly care. He can guess well enough anyway, they're not that unpredictable.
Nothing much is, as Ken'yuu has come to know.
Being a Sanzo sounds interesting, in theory. Even though...he has seen the sutra supposedly used in the creation of the world, once, and it looked like any common scripture to him. So he is doubtful, but maybe it'll be worth a try. It's not like he has anything better to do at that moment.
And then, one day, one entirely ordinary day while he is heckling the instructor for some mild entertainment, Ken'yuu sees something bright from the corner of his eye, and turns, like a crow to a flash of sunlight on bright metal. He sees the man following Goudai, instantly analyzing and categorizing him.
Another Sanzo, obviously...and that is interesting, aren't they supposed to keep the sutras apart...but then theory is never practice, is it? This one is nothing like the Spartan Goudai. He has long, golden hair that falls down his back in an extravagant ponytail, and he's pretty, with a few wrinkles that probably merely made him look more handsome than he did as a youth, Ken'yuu could imagine it. Still, he's young for a Sanzo...which tells Ken'yuu who he is, because he's not deaf, and has every intention of breaking this man's record as the youngest Sanzo ever.
He is laughing carefreely when Ken'yuu turns, yet another contrast with Goudai, and then it's like a shadow passes over his face, as Goudai says something, and Ken'yuu just knows, with a odd thrill, that they're talking about him. And he smiles, just in case Koumyou is looking. An idle challenge to someone who has caught his eye, not that he's expecting much of a competition.
He would find out later just how wrong he was about that.
It takes him a long time to understand it, too long, that the true nature of darkness isn't in the absence of light, but to be its opposite. That there is no deep shadow without the light to measure it against.
All he knows as he sits in a barred room, the marks of fingers on his wrist still aching like a new brand, is that his world has suddenly been thrown into deep, bright contrast. That the edge of moonlight and shadow is sharp as a knife's edge, capable of cutting his destiny in half. He listens to Koumyu's words, calm and as cool as the moonlight, and wonders if this is his chance to be something, slipping by while he is powerless to grasp it. Beneath the trivial burn of disappointment, Ken'yuu is not sure if the other feeling he's feeling is relief or bland despondency.
There is the soft click of an opened lock, and when Ken'yuu turns, the barred window is free of any shadow, only pure moonlight streaming in.
*
Title: Poland, prompt from glareola
Author: stalkerbunny
Rating: PG
Fandom, Characters: Saiyuki(+ sneak crossover with Hetalia), Hazel.
A.N: This was written a while ago, before I realiced how much of a fandom thing Poland's crossdressing actually is...just imagine there was some pressing reason for it here? ^_^;;;
The train station was busy, with people carting luggage to and fro, parents yelling to find their children and children crying...and still, Hazel felt that someone was giving him a Look.
He turned, and found it was a young girl, just on the cusp of adulthood. She was sitting on a crate and waving her legs so that the heels of her shoes clicked against said crate in a sharp staccato, and most importantly, glaring at him in an accusing fashion.
Hazel raised an eyebrow at the girl, and she shook her short fair hair out of her face and sat up straighter, hands clutching the edge of the crate.
"You, mister, come here!" the girl snapped, like a princess calling to an errant servant...or a child calling a dog to heel.
Hazel's mouth twitched, and he wasn't sure if he ought to be annoyed or amused. But something about this girl...despite her childish demeanour, something told him he should be at least polite towards her. And besides, he was a gentleman after all.
"How can I help you, my lady?" Hazel asked, his politeness only slightly exaggerated in jest.
The girl preened, though she still gave him a rather accusing look.
"You're Hazel Grouse, right?" she said, not waiting for a confirmation. "And you're leaving."
Hazel blinked, and then frowned slightly.
"Yes, but I'm not sure what..."
"Everyone is leaving!" the girl said crossly, slamming her hand against the crate. She accompanied this declaration with a furious pout that made her opinion on the issue very clear.
Hazel laughed helplessly, amused by the display. Then he schooled his face into a more understanding expression.
"It is a pity indeed, little miss."
The girl sighed, giving him a dark look.
"To America, right?" she said in resigned fashion.
How had she known that? Ah, it was not like he'd been keeping it secret, and he was rather famous. So it had to be rumours.
"Yes."
The girl crossed her arms and turned her gaze to the distance. She was still pouting childishly, but somehow she looked older suddenly. She seemed to look over and through the bustle of the train station and the dark, hulking trains, to somewhere further away.
Then she turned a sharp green gaze towards Hazel again, nodding her head as if having decided something.
"Farewell then, if you're going anyways," she said archly, and then promptly jumped off the crate and disappeared into the throng, opening a pink parasol.
Hazel looked after her, bemused. Then he shrugged.
One did always meet the most peculiar people while travelling.
*
Title: Questions, prompt from ginnyvos
Author: stalkerbunny
Rating: PG
Fandom, Characters: Saiyuki, Hakkai pov + rest of the ikkou.
When he was a young child, Gonou had a lot of questions.
Why were his parents dead? Why had they taken his sister to another orphanage? Was there a God? He thought probably not. At least not one that gave a damn about people, because it didn't seem like that.
Why am I alive?
He asked them, even, a few times, but never got any satisfying answers, so eventually he stopped. It seemed a more reliable method to look for the answers to his questions himself. However, his own heart seemed to have little to say on the matter, beyond a wordless, sorrowful anger. Listening to that didn't seem to lead anywhere, so Gonou turned to books instead. And while they didn’t answer his questions either, they did provide cleaner cut and simple questions to seek answers to.
It was not happiness, but as close to contentment as he could find.
He was a student, drifting about idly at some small town festival, that an old woman, sitting hunched at the shade of a house gripped his wrist in a bony hand. She said she’d read his future, and Gonou smiled, benign and disbelieving. If you wish, he replied, uncaringly.
She had looked, and sighed, shaking her head sadly.
“Poor boy…such a short lifeline…” she said pityingly, and Gonou though…oh. But does it really matter?
Later, he found his sister, and started listening to his heart again. He wondered, later, if it was inexperience with feeling anything that made him go too far, deaf to the voice of reason altogether.
Do I deserve to live?
Sanzo shrugged.
"Your life, your job to find out," he said, not even looking at Hakkai.
He was smoking, the smoke drifting out and bleeding into the grey sky over the monastery.
"What if I can't?"
"Tch," Sanzo huffed, his brows crinkling in annoyance.
Hakkai kept looking at him blankly. He already knew Sanzo had little patience with complaints, no matter the reason. But then Hakkai wouldn't have spoken with him if he wished to be comforted.
Sanzo gave him a sharp, piercing look, eyes narrowed in study.
"One thing I do know, dying is easy. If I were you, I'd ask myself whether I deserve to do that. But it's your choice." he said abruptly, voice blank and unsympathetic.
His eyes looked very old at that moment, Hakkai thought.
What is there to live for?
Gojyo told him about his childhood one evening, over a game of cards. Neither of their attention was really on the game by the end of it. Gojyo was shuffling the deck automatically, clearly just to have something to occupy his hands and eyes.
Hakkai was still, holding his own deck in unmoving fingers. Then he closed the neat fan of cards carefully and placed it on the table, and placed his hands on it. He found he had a desire to reach out and push away the hair that had fallen into Gojyo's face. Strange, Hakkai had never considered himself a tactile person. Gojyo was, though. Perhaps it had rubbed off on him...oh, but he was digressing.
He was...not exactly surprised, he supposed.
While all of his friend’s scars weren’t as visible as the ones marring his cheek, their presence could still be sensed by one who knew what to look for…or cared to. He wondered if that was the reason Gojyo tended to surround himself with people who tended not to.
He had known him long enough, by then, to have seen how he reacted to anyone bringing attention to his hair, or those aforementioned scars…the way he’d gone cold suddenly, smile dying for a moment before returning sharp edged and fake. Indeed, Gojyo did not wish to remember his past.
“Why did you tell this to me?” Hakkai asked, genuinely curious.
Gojyo shrugged.
“Figured it was only fair, huh?” he said glibly. “Besides you never know…something might come up.”
Then he resumed the game of cards, with more concentration than before.
“Ah, of course. I hope no more surprise visits such as Mr. Banri,” Hakkai replied smoothly.
Gojyo let out a short bark of a laugh.
“Yeah, don’t think so…and even Banri himself knows better than to show his face round here too soon,” he said, without much malice. Hakkai wondered if Gojyo himself would have even welcomed him back…ah, but of course he couldn’t have, he’d have been dead.
“That’s good, I’d hate to have to clean the mess…” Hakkai said softly.
Gojyo raised an eyebrow at him, and then smiled, just one corner of his mouth turning up. Accepting the sentiment, threat and all.
It was only then that Hakkai realized what he’d been saying earlier. You should know this, since you’ll be staying around, right? Oh. He glanced up, but Gojyo seemed to inspecting his cards, with his usual careless poker face.
Well, he supposed it was true, in any case.
Will I be allowed to live, after all I've done?
Slowly, slowly the reasons to live started piling up, like dust to those corners one can never quite get clean. Like on top of the cabinet where you forget to wipe.
There was Gojyo, whose idea of adequate hygiene was throwing things out when started creating new life forms…and then only if said life forms physically attacked him. There was Goku, who needed someone to teach him reading and writing and basic mathematics, for which Sanzo had far too little patience. Sanzo himself, who had personally promised to the three aspects that Hakkai was his responsibility.
Don’t thank me, I expect you not to need babysitting. Sanzo had told him afterwards, and Hakkai had agreed, bemused. He hadn’t known him as well as he did now, back then.
Without quite meaning to, he found he’d made himself…if not necessary, at least expected. That to leave would leave the others unbalanced, with an empty place in their lives where they expected a Hakkai.
It was new, and almost unsettling. Perhaps most unsettling for not seeming more so.
For the first time he remembered the woman and her prediction. For the first time he was worried. Certainly the others could go on without him, if necessary, but…well, it would be a rather big inconvenience, wouldn’t it?
Even if he could have done that, left his companions to deal with the mission on their own, of course when his past dredged itself out of the grave once again, dead and rotted but not dead enough in the form of Chin Iisou, it didn’t come for him alone, but for his companions.
That was karma for you, Hakkai thought with dark humour.
They survived that time. But it was close, too close. He still didn’t fear death all that much, Hakkai told himself as he stared at his palm, at the lifeline that was a faint, short groove. But he could not bear to lose the place he’d gained, not again.
And then there was Goku, the permanent marker a shock of cold as it drew a thick, bold dash over the lifeline, drowning it in pitch black ink.
Life is what you make of it. it said, sure and simple. Very like Goku, to be the wisest when he said nothing.
*