AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first HunterxHunter fanfiction. So please bear with me if the character is OOC at all. I will try to make every chapter at least 5,000 words from this point on, since this chapter's word count is only within 4,000 words. I think I've ended this chapter on an okay not since it is only the first one. I will eventually draw a cover for this book. If you would like to see my art account please comment. I recently started a new feed so there won't be much of any of my works on their for a while. I hope this book doesn't seem too bad or cliché, feedback would greatly be appreciated since I'm considering writing another story.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HUNTERXHUNTER OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS HAVING TO DEAL WITH THE SHOW OR MANGA.
"Talking"
'Thoughts'
Enjoy
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Chapter 1: Hallowing Thoughts
And if we should die tonight
Then we should all die together
Raise a glass of wine for the last time
-Ed sheeran I See Fire
*៰。ઃ.°ᬔ֊ձ ઼ճ֊ᬟ°.ઃ。៰*+
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Shitty, I feel absolutely shitty.
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I wish there was a more civilized way to express my state of mind. To change my temperamental and irritable way of thinking. To think of pleasant thoughts while a miniscule smile somehow manages to make an appearance.
However I can't. I'm a dishonest person, a type of person that can't cope, yet I couldn't even lie to myself. No form of manipulation will my body take head to.
I guess waking up in the woods while it's raining does that to you.
Being damn near numb from the cold wind nipping at your sides could also do it too. Prickles of cold little devils feasting on my skin. Leaving me black and blue, and maybe it's throwing in some other colors too. Pinks and greens blur in my vision making my eyes water while blues and yellows curl and wiggle in strange shapes. They seems to be running away from the black specs that lurk around the edge of my vision. Like freaking parasites.
The color mixtures gradually make me want to pass out. To proceed past my current state of delirium. Or maybe I'm dreaming? I mean how would it look like to tell someone I was mind violated by the color pink? Yet the colors still blare to a unmentioned beat. Why couldn't I get a memo?
Additionally to the seemingly playful colorful hallucinations, I'm harshly reminded of my battered body. The winds taunting me, a sharp reminder of why the hell am I out here? Of course I'm just assuming it's cold. With the crinkling sounds that echo around me.
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I assume it's autumn. Yet the rain blocks any little sense of smell I have. Leaving me even more clueless. I slightly incline my head, only to be bombarded with more splotches of colors. However, the most distinguished color is green.
Which brings me back to questioning where in the frickle doodle doo am I and what time of year it is. Maybe it's summer? That could explain the plethora of colors in my vision right now.
Then again it could even winter.
My senses are undoubtedly out of commission for the moment. Or are just really, really angry at me to a point where if they could talk, I would be sent the bird...repeatedly.
I would actually find that to be quite humorous right now.
Seriously, I think I really need a touch of morbid humor right now, because I'm pretty sure I could be teetering on the edge of death. Then again I'm extremely skeptical of my surroundings and state of being. Call it paranoia if you must. It's an annoying feeling, trying to make me force enough room in my head to think about it. Kind of like an itch you can't scratch. A scratch that's has a class A stick up its arse.
Probably finding fulfillment from my predicament.
I could already feel the blistering pain starting slowly blooming at the base of my forehead. Concluding that I'm probably very likely to be having crazy ass hallucinations right now.
Then again I can only make educated guesses, with the whole not being able to feel much of anything right now. A not so pleasant detachment from reality. A misty vision that weighs its heavy hands on me. A type of high that leaves your gut reeling.
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A terrible type of high actually.
It's a whole breed of it's own that leaves its victims in a false state of reality and eventual increase in stupidity. Some may dub it as being bold or even courageous. However, entertaining the idea of any type of movement surpasses my current level of skills and ability to function.
I like to say I'm a well-rounded individual, but for the time being I'm nothing short next to the word moronic, and I honestly wouldn't mind being called so.
I suck in a shallow breath finding a soothing feeling blanket me.
Just breathing... honestly and semi efficiently never felt so good...
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Breathing, the unrelenting motions of my lungs almost vocally proving that I'm indeed alive. Not walking, or running or doing anything productive about my situation but alive nonetheless.
I glance down seeing red spots blur the surrounding area. That means I can probably see myself slowly bleeding to death. The crimson being smudged and peppered on the ground like a "pretty, pretty picture".
'Fucking heinous piece of shit that is'
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The black circles that have been eating away at my vision start to flash annoyingly. Increasing in my peripheral vision, a warning, to my last few legs of consciousness.
Or until my eternal rest, or slumber or burning or whatever I'm supposed to be doing. I seriously don't know what's up with death right now. I already thought I was suppose to be in the afterlife. Chilling out to some ocean music. Probably listening to whale mating calls, and tides crashing onto the ashen colored sands.
I've always wanted to see the dark depths of the oceans. Getting captivated by the way my feet get swallowed by the waters. I've always wondered would I just get sucked up in the murky waters. Drowning out my problems, ecstatic in a unmoving state. I always accompanied such thoughts with scary images of me getting sucked up wholly with no chance of surviving. Yet I wouldn't care because I would be too caught up on the blues and greens that take up my eyesight.
Or I could be blabbering some nonsense about how I have found serenity and a nice place to just lay down. The dewy grass covered in almost seemingly crystalline waters. It's aroma blending into my natural scent. Vanilla I presume, or at least that's what my gut tells me.
Oh! Let's not forget it's death's whole ordeal of just shrugging my life off. Like going to a grocery store and buying a box of cereal and then just throw it in the trash. I mean I'm not full of sugary goodness and I'm not a saint either but come on now! Dying is a long and hard process apparently and I'm just theoretically left hanging mid-way from falling down. If death can take a vacation why the frickle doodle doo couldn't I ? I mean I don't think my life was that insignificant…
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Moving on, I can't possibly fathom wherever the frickle doodle doo I'm located at... in my sleep? As I've stated before, this whole conundrum is a great way to spend your time.
Tch a joke at my expense is what it should be called. I bet it have a whole trailer set up with captions like, "Sweet, sweet death and it's not so dead tag-along."
Speaking of death I think about how it misses me so. Calling to me like a newborn babe to its mother. Like a annoying ass fly that keeps disappearing but somehow makes it back into your room. I freaking hate those things. Pfft! I Should've been a newly freed soul released into the afterlife. Death must have its panties in a twist.
No really It really must do, I could've sworn it claimed me not too long ago. The memory is strangely vivid. I remember being enraptured in its disgustingly comforting clutches.
Like being put under an induced sleep.
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Or it might just be a hallucination.
A figment of my imagination.
A dead man's tormenter.
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Or just simple day dreams, I can't even tell for the most part.
An extraordinary feeling actually.
If I was pretty sure I might survive this I might have found this whole situation rather comical. Unfortunately, my mind pulls itself out of its drunken stupor. Now letting me become semi-aware of my surroundings. The ringing sounds that makes itself known to my twitching ears. While my body stiffens and contorts painfully, I could vaguely register the faint "pitter patter" sounds around me.
The tell tale sign of rain.
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The sound reverberates in my head. Bringing dull thunks of pain to linger evidently. The pitter patter is only leading to a continuous loop that ever so slowly increases... to my dismay.
The already dull melody is evoking new notes to only continue its hostile song. Giving me enough of a reason to want to claw the insides of my ears out.
Then again, my thinking process is already been shot down pretty badly, I could possibly be very mentally impaired right now...
I'm sorry that I keep talking about my state of being like clockwork but I am feeling very extreme emotions right now. Still the whole clawing my ears off idea might be a good stress reliever actually. It might bring back a much-needed silence. However, it also may bring back the eerie silence I've become accustomed to when I thought I was dead. I obviously can't be dead now with all this pain I'm feeling. Or else dying is a bunch of bull crap about being put to peace.
"Death huh"
The words come out raspy and fervent, my throat constricts painfully at the action.
Why did I have to move my mouth? I should've already figured that any type of words I would try to utter would barely escape my cracked and dry lips. I try to remove the dryness of them but they only suck up moisture like a freaking desert.
Greedy little things I swear.
My whole body seems to want to whine and cry out to me. However I've my never really been one to really listen. Yet I don't want to die in this frigid weather though. I attempt to curl whole body inwards to try to keep a sliver of warmth present. Only to grit my teeth in agony at the sounds that my body produced.
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'Malevolent'
There's not too much time to dwell on a certain pattern. No time to dwell on the pulsing ache in my head.
My body has already submitted.
My heart races while I unconsciously give energy to the now sinister notes flooding my ear drums. The sloshing of my dark feet against the mud between my toes. The crinkling of leaves under my achingly abused legs. The splatting sounds of my long black hair against my face. My soaked clothes slinking against my bronzed and bruised skin. Only increasing the tempo of this painful song. Never coordinating with each other, always bringing out the worst in others by trying to outdo the other. A screaming match...all now to add to my indescribable torture.
'Chaos'
I'm broken out of my almost stagnant reverie by my growling stomach. I could feel my brows furrow in anger and my jaw tensing. Both actions contribute to the surely scary like quality of my appearance. I could almost feel every nerve writhing in agony of my small movements. Yet no tears make themselves known, no golf ball sized lumps in my throat. No pitiful croaks escape my tensed jaw. Unnervingly so, I feel my heart begin an erratic tune in my body like a drum. My ephemeral numbness makes way for my screeching nerves crying out to me for my attention.
My growling stomach yet again steals my attention. Instead of caressing my stomach like it probably demands I do. I could already feel my fists clenching in anticipation. The tantalizing eagerness to absolutely beat the shit out of something right here and now.
However I only focus my attentions on my thunderous stomach.
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'The traitor'
It's not like my whole body hasn't forsaken me, or maybe it was just old lady luck that did.
I was never one to really believe in luck. Luck seems to be such a fickle and unreliable thing. I believed in God and fate more than anything, but now at this point I need all the help I can get, even putting belief in unproven deities like the fates and luck and mother nature etc.
Whichever one I should place my faith in, I rather like to appease the wrongs I did to end up in this crappy situation.
Or possible punishment?
Maybe I'm was left to suffer solitude for 1,000 years? I should've been dead and unfeeling and not feeling like I got ran over by a truck repeatedly. I crane my neck to realize my front bangs almost completely hinder my eyesight while trying to look downwards.
Besides my obvious hunger, I concluded I don't really have any external injuries that I can see.
I could've sworn I was bleeding buckets full of it not too long ago. With this thought now I start to really take in my apparel.
I guess I'm wearing a dress like shirt?
Maybe just a dress?
The material is lacy and rather intricately designed. Off white in color but not disgustingly so, I think I'm the first person to wear the piece of clothing.
I frown, clothing like this should be loved and cared for, I feel oddly guilty for having this cloth adorned on me. Even taking in the beautiful crafted clothing it still seems strangely too pristine. So I'm guessing I wasn't out here for a strenuous amount of time. However, it was still too dirty to only be here for a short amount of time.
Maybe I was kidnapped?
Or I finally went bat shit crazy and lost that one screw that I thought I had? Okay I'm cursing too much again, I know I have better thinking process than that of a twelve-year-old who just found out what jacking off is and now is trying to be a little f-boy and get someone else to do it for them. I must be freaking delirious right now or better ye-
*Gurgle*
I was literally about to punch my stomach to stop growling. Which in retrospect wasn't exactly the best idea. Hell it could have been mid-way on a scale of stupid shit I've probably done. I probably could've killed myself attempting to take out my anger on the black hole labeled a stomach. I can only sigh in resentment. Forgetting about the horrible lament that played when I was first deemed ready for consciousness. Yet I couldn't tell the soft "pitter patter" now left its whispered notes imbedded in my scarred skin.
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*៰。ઃ.°ᬔ֊ձ ઼ճ֊ᬟ°.ઃ。៰*
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White
That was the first thing I saw when I regained consciousness.
Of course, when I first saw this I accompanied the color with being the passageway into the afterlife.
The clichéd beacon of light that finally gives me the opportunity to leave out my crappy situation. Kind of like a "fack you and your indecisiveness death." A sendoff where I would finally enter a warm environment hallucination free and humanely needs and junk gone. I was looking forward to chilling with some angels or just sitting in some sand somewhere. Harmonic sounds and all that jazz blaring in my eardrums to welcome me to paradise.
So imagine my surprise and expression when I found out the white light I was reaching for was soft and fluffy.
Not like pillow fluff, but the type of fluff that made out of angel's wings type softness.
I feel my eyebrows furrow, I'm seriously wondering if I'm going through another crazy spell because this junk should not be this soft. Still not really comprehending the consequences of my actions, I let my fingers continue on their path to grazing the silk like softness. I want to cuddle it and keep it trapped against me forever and for freaking ever. I'm a very selfish and greedy person, if you can tell.
I was planning to run my fingers thoroughly threw the angel like softness, but after I briefly let my fingers slide into the fluff (I deeming it fluff I cannot deem it anything else it's too awesome for that). I was reacquainted with the ground face first.
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I swear people want me to get a little frisky with dirt particles.
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It might be a better option than dealing with my shitty luck right now.
Call me Mrs. Dirty because my thoughts and actions aren't going to be clean. I already feel my body filling to the brim with atrocious and vulgar thoughts that should put me in prison. I don't care about making sailor's blush I just want some form of comfort other than pain and aching muscles. If I must resort to cursing someone out like a sailor I will. I'm a lady but right now life (still debatable) if bringing out my inner heathen, the one that doesn't care about hygiene, feelings, and more or less morals-
"You're weird"
I shift my body to the undoubtedly young and very male voice. The voice is so low and soft, but not at all shy… it sounds like someone is speaking out of boredom. Taking this piece of information in I shift my whole body ( That whole action just probably just took two years of my life ) in the voice's direction.
However my poor fangirl heart was severely unprepared for the sight that assaulted me.
My heart stutters to beat, while my brain is slowly bringing itself to attention. Ultimately leaving me in all my gaping and confounded glory. With my lungs operating at a very erratic pace, I feel my whole body heat up. Especially in my cheeks. Sighing, I remembered why I'm so glad that my skin is dark enough where you can't see me blush.
I'm already thinking about the crappy situations being around my finder ? Will do to my poor little heart. I can already feel myself dying a little bit on the inside. I summoned all the will in my body to not externally fangirl and not put myself into a coma. Imaging the pain associated with that little stunt helps me calm down… somewhat.
Standing barely a foot away from my bruised body is Killua Zoldyck. Wearing a black shirt and some maroon basketball shorts. I didn't bother to see if he had shoes on because I really couldn't get over the awesomeness of his face. His oddly curious face.
His body was, even at his young age ready to attack me if need be. I could tell by his somewhat stiff posture.
He must be really young if I can read his body language.
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Too young to be screwed over by Illumi...
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I'm broken from my thoughts by the prickling sensation building up in my abdomen. I return my attention to his face to find his gaze a tad bit more sharp, and a tad bit more suspicious.
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'I would like to say that a gaze by a 7 year old looking boy didn't scare me.'
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'I will continue to believe so.'
" Are you stupid ?"
I blink at that response. Was I stupid? For trying to touch his silky tresses? To try to so much as fathom touching any part of something unknown? Or just even thinking I would possibly touch his hair? Extremely so with my last courses of actions. However he didn't need to know that.
"Am I'm bleeding ?"
Killua seemed to be generally surprised by my abrupt change in topic. At least I know he won't back hand me for ignoring his original question. No hostility can be seen from him, well… as much as I can sense from a pretty well seasoned assassin. Even though he could probably snap my neck faster than I could blink, he's still a kid. Even when he was twelve he wasn't the type to randomly attack a person.
His eyes narrow, probably assessing me." No "
It's a good thing he's young, and that makes his gaze adorably deadly and cute. If he was like 14 and older his gaze would be deadly and hot.
" You look creepy. "
I don't know what I might do when that time comes. Probably die trying to tackle him-
"You look perverted."
I blink. " The only reason I look like a pervert to you is because I thought that white fluffiness you call hair was the passageway to the afterlife."
He gave me a blank look. " You're weird"
"You have no idea"
He cracked a small smirk. " You are really weird though. I didn't sense your presence at all from behind me."
Probably because I have no nen in my body whatsoever. In fact, I might even be considered dead to some nen users if I passed by one. I should probably be thankful that Illumi wasn't the first one to find me.
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God what would happen if Illumi was the one to find me in such a position?
" Your face looks kind of pale."
I could only shudder in agreement, contemplating my demise by his older brother can be put off for another day.
" What's your name ?"
He pauses seeming to digest my question and or motive for it. He licked his lips, it must be his tell that he's thinking about something.
"Why would I tell you my name when you clearly recognize me?"
Of course, I obviously recognized him, I mean who wouldn't with his striking features? The fact that he noticed such a look and or reading from me is a little off putting but not surprising. It could be very problematic or me later if I was to be questioned. Or tortured whatever the Zoldyck's definition of that is.
I felt heat flooding my cheeks. "I'm just trying to make conversation without seeming even more mysterious…"
Or weird.
His hair flutters in wisps around his eyes as the wind picks up…
He really is much too innocent to be sucked up into his future.
"Killua Zoldyck" I nod my head in confirmation. Trailing my eyes over his entire figure. Assessing him, and processing him as all of a sudden, he become much more real.
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Much too real with his piercing eyes and small frame.
"How old are you?"
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Nobody ever told me how he used to emulate such a child like aura.
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"7 years old"
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How his demeanor inspired you to protect and become a better person.
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"Do I make you laugh?"
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Nobody warned me about how igneous his blue orbs were.
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He stared at me, at first perplexed but humored nonetheless. His eyes were too colorful.
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"Your rude baba-san."
And way too vibrant.
I take a second to actually pay attention to what he said. From the numerous amount of amines I've watched and manga I've read I perfectly understood what he said.
A cocky little shit isn't he?
I was humored nonetheless and only giggled and nodded in agreement.
Killua looked agitated that I wasn't annoyed by his wonderful nickname. He didn't laugh or crack a smirk. He looked exasperated but curious.
It was a look that made my heart swell and laughter fall from my cracked and drying lips. He only turned his head and sighed. He didn't walk away though, and that was enough for me. I would soak in little moments like these. Where he airs such a energy of a child, of an unburdened heart.
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Because nobody told me how undeniably heart wrenchingly painful it would be to see that innocence taken away from another.
*៰ 。ઃ.°ᬔ֊ձ ઼ ճ֊ᬟ°.ઃ。៰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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Ahh my heart feels. I would've put the horizontal dividers with my line breaks but I totally forgot how to do it. If anyone could tell me how to it would greatly be appreciated. Review and favorite let me know if I should continue this story or not.