A/N: This is a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Just killing time on a brief summer's day before work resumes. I'll update or delete this story depending on your reviews, so please make sure to let me know what you think.

Cheers.

Disclaimer: For this chapter and for all time, I will never own Hunter X Hunter.

The book cover is borrowed from username overdoor on zero-chan net, entry number 809407 (2011).

UNTOUCHABLE

Chapter I. Key Figures

Gon squinted at the sign arching majestically over his head. The sun glinted off the large letters, bold and silver on a field of deep red, the color of dried blood: Nostrade High School. Already, beneath the 8:00am heat, he felt hot and itchy in his tailored coat, made of some rich, expensive type of cotton his Aunt Mito had refused to tell him the price of before she deftly cut it into coat-shaped pieces and, overnight, sewed it into his school uniform. The school logo was hand-embroidered across his chest, a silver quill over the tiny characters of the school name.

He still didn't understand why Aunt Mito insisted that he attend this absurdly expensive school. Sure, the public high school took three more hours to get to, but the total money he would have to spend, including matriculation fees and cost of living, would still be a lot less than a year's tuition fee in Nostrade High, by far.

I bet even this uniform is worth a week's meal—

"Just go in already, Gon!"

Wha—? Gon jumped. Aunt Mito? Why would she—

"Just go in already, Gon!"

He looked around, bewildered, looking for his red-headed guardian. Then, once more, in the exact same tone: "Just go in already, Gon!"

It took a while before he felt the simultaneous vibrating of a call in his pocket, and he groaned out loud. Aunt Mito must have changed his ringtone and upped the volume while he was asleep. He punched down on the red button to reject the call; picking it up would have just been redundant. He clicked to his SMS inbox, knowing there would be a message.

There were two.

We have to make this work, Gon. Remember that we're paying for your time. Can't have you wasting so many hours on travel and using it to justify why you failed math again.

He scowled and opened the second message.

Be at the shop by 4:30? Good luck! Make Aunt Mito proud!

Then, as if on cue, the school gates opened, and Gon was about to think Aunt Mito really had magical powers to command his environment by manipulating his mobile's signal, when he heard the loud honk of a car behind him.

"Ah! Sumimasen!" He quickly leaped out of the way. Of course everything would be automated in a school of this caliber.

A convoy of large luxury vehicles drove through the gates, all polished to a rich black sheen, all with windows heavily tinted against gaping onlookers. Gon could make out the stiff outline of a uniformed driver behind every steering wheel.

I'm gonna be schoolmates with someone of that rank—?

"Oi, get out of the way."

Gon looked up and moved just in time to avoid a red and silver blur of a kid who bulleted past him in full speed on a green skateboard. He slipped easily in and out of the moving cars in the convoy, his red coat flapping behind him, apparently unbuttoned at the front. Wherever he passed, there was a flurry of movement, a series of sharp whirs and clicks as gun barrels suddenly began to point out from various parts of the vehicles in the convoy. The boy paid them no heed. From where Gon stood, he even thought he could make out a grin.

One of the windows in the convoy rolled down, and a bright pink head popped out. The girl's voice was high-pitched, with the nagging tone of someone who was not used to not having her way. "I swear, Zoldyck, one of these days, I won't stop the guards from shooting you!"

The kid did not even shrug. Cutting in front of the foremost car so that the entire convoy halted in its tracks for a moment, he did a casual kick-flip before speeding his way into the school, the automatic glass doors sliding open for him conveniently so he did not even need to pause.

Gon gaped, stunned.

What kind of a school is this?

- x -

By the time the afternoon rolled, Gon was well-aware of the rather straightforward hierarchy of the student status quo: wealth, prestige, power. The first referred to the magnitude of a student's family's holdings, which explained why the first question on the admission forms he had to fill out was family income, with the lowest option beginning at 100 million jennies. The second referred to the student's political affluence, typically acquired by association to prominent personalities in politics or other high-paying professions, which was probably why the only person who stopped by his table over lunch was some random dude who asked if he was related to someone who had been some kind of politician at some point in some prefecture somewhere (and who promptly left when Gon said no). The third referred to the student's capacity for brute compulsion and intimidation, which explained why everyone parted in the hallways for one rather terrifying upperclassman Gon had the misfortune of sharing one class with — Hisoka, with the shock of red hair, facial tattoos, and perpetual, unnerving smirk.

"Stop staring at him, he loves that," a cool voice suddenly reprimanded.

"Huh? I wasn't—" Gon snapped to his senses, and realized too late that he had, indeed, been inadvertently staring straight at Hisoka who was stretching — preening? — somewhere near the bleachers on the opposite side of a vast field where Gon was lounging on a bench.

"He knows you're looking, new kid." Gon looked up to find, standing over him, a beautiful blond, amber-eyed boy — girl? no, boy, but wait — "I'm Kurapika."

Gon averted his eyes to avoid revealing his embarrassing train of thought. "Gon Freecs."

"I know. Everyone knows."

"Eh?"

At the confused look on Gon's face, Kurapika sat himself down on the bench beside Gon and heaved a sigh of immense patience. "It's because no one knows who you are," he explained, and looked meaningfully into Gon's eyes. "For that, everyone knows you now."

Gon was sincerely confused. "What, how could everyone know me if they don't know me?"

Kurapika heaved another sigh. "What does your family do?"

"What's your point?"

"Are you noveau riche?"

"No. We're not—"

"Are you involved with the mafia, the yakuza—"

"Stop it."

Kurapika looked appeased. "I knew it. So you're not rich, famous, or powerful—"

"Hey!"

"—so why are you here?" Kurapika's cold amber eyes were suddenly piercing, gauging the raven-haired sophomore with unnerving detachment.

Gon wondered for a moment what he was supposed to answer. Why would anyone ask anyone why anyone goes to school? It was the standard, wasn't it? Geez, this school will take getting used to. He looked away from Kurapika and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Aunt Mito."

"Who?"

"Aunt Mito. She insisted I enter school here."

"Who the hell is Aunt—"

"Kurapikaaa!" The sharp voice that called to them from further down the field was high-pitched and now familiar to Gon's ears. In the distance, he saw the stiff band of five men in black suits before he spotted the small, pink-haired girl in front of them whom they seemed to be accompanying, waving an open hand in a wide arc in the air in their general direction.

Kurapika looked pissed. "Fuck," he muttered, and stood up abruptly. "I'll go ahead. Ja, Gon Freecs. Watch yourself." And he walked off in the opposite direction.

- x -

It was not until the next day that Gon began to understand what Kurapika meant when he told Gon to watch out. As he walked down the hallways, he began to realize that the mutters and undertones around him were not idle chatter or gossip but whispered questions about him. The new kid. The sophomore of unknown origins. The black-haired, goofy-looking (Gon wanted to snap at them) transferee whose family background no one knew of.

Heh. It's not like I know either.

Gon made it to his locker casually enough, but just as he was pulling out the books for his first period (some completely superfluous elective on Western dining etiquette), something slammed against the locker right next to his, crumpling to the floor in a ragged heap, and he leaped back in alarm. It was a boy, a size or two smaller than he was, with a length of light brown hair spilling across his face, tangling messily with the red trickle of blood spilling from a ruptured lip.

Gon was down on one knee and pulling at the boy's shoulder in an instant. "Oi! Daijobu ka? Oi!"

The boy took a few moments to collect himself. He struggled to stand. "F—fuck you…Hisoka—"

A long shadow fell over them, and Gon turned his head.

Hisoka's voice lilted with an unfathomable and poisonous desire as the smile on his face cracked open a little wider. "Now I have your attention, Gon Freecs."

Gon rose to his feet, striving to keep his bewilderment at bay as Hisoka advanced."What do you want?" he demanded, keeping his voice steady. "Why did you do that?"

Hisoka didn't answer, merely grinned wider and continued to approach. Gon was vaguely aware that a crowd had formed around them. As his hands clenched into fists, he began to rummage in his head for excuses to tell Aunt Mito. The upperclassman was taller than him by a lot and there was no way he could defend himself without even understanding what he was getting beaten up about. Was it some kind of initiation rite? Was it because he unintentionally stared at Hisoka the day before?

"Oi—"

Suddenly, Hisoka's face was inches from his, and Gon felt the cool door of his locker pressed against his back. Hisoka leaned against it with one arm, hovering over Gon within terrible proximity. He could scent the detergent on Hisoka's clothes, could hear the evenness of Hisoka's breathing, could catch the hint of a moan in Hisoka's throat before he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Let's be friends."

Gon's eyes widened, and he violently shoved Hisoka away from him before he could even stop to think. Small gasps rippled around them, and Gon felt his sweat run cold. Now I've done it.

But Hisoka merely tossed his head back and laughed. "I knew it," he moaned. "We are the same, you and I."

"What do you mean?" Gon demanded. "You don't know who I am."

"Of course I don't," Hisoka replied. "That's why I hope we become friends. Everyone else is truly rather boring." He turned his back. "Ja ne."

The crowd seemed just as stunned as Gon was. In an attempt to find something casual to do, he tried to turn his attention back to the brown-haired boy who had been slammed into the locker next to his, but the boy had already gone. Where did he go…?

It was not until Gon leaned over to pick his books off the floor, one by one, that the crowd finally dispersed.

- x –

That afternoon, Gon pleaded with Aunt Mito to let him stay in school for a while longer. While he had been intent on living a peaceful life throughout high school, after Hisoka's unfathomable proposal, it was clear that he needed a little more advice. Kurapika agreed to meet him for a bit after the dismissal to orient him a little more about campus life.

They met in an empty classroom in the seniors' wing of one of the school buildings. By the time Gon found it, Kurapika was waiting for him at the front of the room, staring idly at his watch. It was a small, amphitheater-type lecture hall, with rows of seats behind blocks of tables ascending towards the back of the room. A projector hung from the ceiling, warmed up and connected to a sleek, black tablet in Kurapika's hands, flashing a photo of Nostrade High onto the white screen.

"What's going on?" Gon asked.

Kurapika waved him to one of the empty seats in the audience area and cleared his throat. "Seeing as I'm the student council president, and recognizing your inability to grasp the dynamics of this school, I have deemed it one of my responsibilities to keep you informed," he began. "But I will keep this brief, because I understand much of this has become moot due to your…encounter today."

His hands swiped over the face of the tablet and the image on the screen faded to white.

"There are four people whose attention you would not want to catch in Nostrade High." His hand tapped on the tablet screen, and a picture of the girl with the pink hair faded into view. "First, Neon Nostrade's."

"Neon Nostrade?!" Gon exclaimed. "That's Neon Nostrade?" He knew that the girl must be someone important to warrant so many guards, but he didn't think she was that important. The girl was a spoiled brat! But then— "Come to think of it, that explains the lot of bodyguards and everything…"

"Yes, the only daughter of Light Nostrade and heiress of the Nostrade Group of Companies, with business holdings and stakes in any industry you can think of all over the world. Not that getting close to her is easy, but understand very clearly that crossing her will cost you millions. So keep your distance."

"But, Kurapika," Gon raised his hand, "Don't you have her attention yourse—"

"Second," Kurapika said, pointedly, and a picture of him popped out on the screen. "Mine."

"Eh!?" Gon's hand dropped from the air, all questions on Neon Nostrade forgotten. "But—"

"I'm the student council president," Kurapika explained, calmly, "and I am descended from the clan of the Kuruta, which, as you know, is highly regarded in the judiciary. I do not hesitate to mete out justice where I see it must be carried out. If you catch my attention, it means two things: one, you're an idiot and I need to hold you at bay before you do anything stupid that can ruin the peace—" Gon breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing himself in the description "—or two, you're an asshole and I need to recommend you for expulsion because you're a danger to the student population."

"Eh?" Gon looked at Kurapika, quizzically. "Then, if that's the case, why haven't you recommended Hisoka—"

"Third," Kurapika interrupted again, and a photo of Hisoka showed up on the screen. "Hisoka. He has been in this school ever since I entered, and I've encountered him in several classes on different levels so I have no idea what grade he is actually, or should be, in. No one knows his history or his origin. We only know that he's absolutely fearless, and that he takes pleasure in tormenting any kid on any level, sometimes even teachers. He's only enrolled intermittently, though, seeing as he's often suspended for weeks and semesters on end. There are rumors that he goes in and out of rehabilitation of some sort — I'd place my wages on psychiatric therapy — but that's hardly even relevant anymore…" Kurapika paused to look at Gon, whose eyebrows were knitted over the information. "I guess it's your lucky year."

For some reason, Gon found that absurdly funny, and he burst out into a laugh. "I guess it is," he said, sheepishly, and then suddenly transitioned into quiet brooding. "But then, Hisoka said we should be friends."

Kurapika nodded. "So I heard." He paused and leaned against the teacher's table. "I don't know his schemes, Gon. No one knows how he thinks… But…" He shook his head. "Well. In a world like this, you can't expect anyone not to have any secrets."

"True," Gon mused. Without history, huh…? Perhaps…

"In any case. The fourth and the last—" And an image of someone vaguely familiar suddenly flickered onto the screen. A mess of silver hair. Unreadable ice blue eyes. "—Killua Zoldyck."

Killua…Zoldyck…? Gon brain echoed the name, emptily. The eyes that stared out from the screen were infinitely cold.

"Heir to the legendary Zoldyck family and—" Kurapika couldn't keep out a hint of bitterness in his voice "—second only to me in terms of academic records. The Nostrades own the school, but the Zoldycks own the land all the way up to Kukuroo Mountain. He's the same grade as you, Gon, so be wary. He has power on all levels: wealth, prestige, and raw force. Physical training is part and parcel of the way of life of the Zoldycks." Kurapika grimaced slightly, as if the thought of it irked him. "He's untouchable."

"Untouchable?" Gon echoed.

"Untouchable?" another voice intoned from the back of the room.

Gon whirled around and heard Kurapika's sharp intake of breath behind him.

There, at the back of the room, perched casually on one of the desks, was Killua Zoldyck himself, icy eyes looking curiously at his own image on the screen. The collar of his pale gray turtleneck, which he wore beneath his coat instead of the regular white shirt, looked a little rumpled, as was the uniform hanging unbuttoned over it. For some reason, the disheveled-ness only made everything seem more expensive. That he looked vaguely amused only made him seem more unnerving.

Kurapika gritted his teeth and bit back a response, refusing to be embarrassed.

"I fell asleep here during English period," Killua explained. "Then I thought I heard my name." With Kurapika deftly avoiding his eyes, he locked his gaze, instead, on Gon, who was a lot less subtle and was openly surprised, hazel eyes wide with—

With what? What was that?

"You must be Killua Zoldyck!" Gon blurted out.

It became unmistakable. The kid actually looked delighted to see him.

Killua blinked, the slight smirk on his face fading a little. Was he an idiot?

Gon bounded up the steps, coming to a stop a few paces from Killua. The kid looked remarkably undaunted. "We're on the same grade," he said, launching into a sheepish ramble. "Sorry you had to hear that, but Kurapika was really just telling me some stories about the school. I asked because of an unfortunate incident..." He trailed off. "Well, I'm—"

"Do what you want." Killua grabbed his backpack from a chair, his green skateboard strapped to the front of it, and jumped down from his perch. He pulled the whole weight of it onto one shoulder and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Eh?"

Killua looked at Gon squarely in the eyes. Why in hell wasn't this kid flinching? "You can go on with your stories," he said. "I already know them all."

Finally, Gon showed some hesitation, unsure of what to make of the statement.

Not giving him time to think, Killua pushed past him, sauntered down the steps, and exited through the door. "Ja."

Gon followed him with his eyes, suddenly recalling the morning's display as the silver hair and green skateboard vanished from view behind the quiet thud of the door closing: Killua Zoldyck taunting Neon Nostrade's bodyguards, riding to school by himself on a kid's toy, his own back unprotected even if, allegedly, he was also one of the most powerful kids in the school... Gon knew in his gut that some pieces in these stories did not quite fit, but he didn't know enough to figure anything out.

He knew one thing for certain though, and he saw it almost automatically when he came close enough to the silver-haired heir. He had seen hints of it often enough in some animals brought into the veterinary shop which he looked after with Aunt Mito. The veil of frost in Killua's eyes was not the calm ruthlessness of a potential despot; it was the unfathomable solitude of one who understood his power and bore its weight unwillingly.

The untouchable Killua Zoldyck, huh...

"Clearly, you're going to take this school by the storm," Kurapika muttered, cutting into Gon's thoughts and unlinking his tablet from the projector. "Well, we've wasted enough time."

And he, too, left the room.

- tbc -

A/N: It has been a rather painful chapter to write, as I love writing Killua best. If the next chapter happens, I'll probably overcompensate and put in a lot of him. Hah. Anyway, this is my second appeal. I understand the "fav/follow" options have become enough of a signification of approval for many writers ever since the button arose, but I'm old-school. I still believe in the function of the reviews page as a venue for writers to talk about their work. So I hope you'll be indulgent, if you have any thoughts at all on this story.