The night air is cold against Hisoka's face and the sea is making a low rumbling sound when Tsubaki-hime asks him to stay close to her. He tenses at the request, then turns around and shrugs his shoulders. Tsubaki-hime smiles slightly, and Hisoka can feel her satisfaction, so she must have taken his movements as an affirmative. He shakes his head slightly. She's like Tsuzuki in that regard—assuming that the lack of an absolute no means yes. There's an uncomfortable pause between them that Tsubaki-hime finally breaks. "Hey, Hisoka?" His name comes out awkwardly, as if she has to remind herself to use it. "What's it like being being dead?" Hisoka frowns, and Tsubaki-hime winces. "I'm sorry. That was really blunt of me. It's just that, with everything that's happened, with the cards being addressed to me... I wonder if I'm meant to be the last victim."
She looks so lost and young in that moment that Hisoka has to answer her. "Most of the time it's a lot like being alive," he says, still not looking at her. "But you're always aware that you're dead. You can't ignore or forget it." He scowls. "That sounds stupid."
Tsubaki-hime shakes her head. "No, it makes sense." She laughs sadly. "Is it wrong that I don't think that it sounds so bad? It can't possibly be worse than what I'm feeling right now." She closes her eyes, as if holding back tears. "Everyone that I love is dead or gone. I don't even know who I can trust." She looks at Hisoka, and then, ever so slowly, her hand reaches out towards him.
Hisoka fights not to back away, and when she cups his cheek, he puts all of his willpower into not flinching. He knows that she needs this—needs to touch someone, to feel connected to anyone. Her emotions are soft and sad, undoubtedly muted by shock. Hisoka counts himself lucky that her conscious mind is shielding him from the dark, turbulent depths that he found in her dream.
"Hisoka?" Tsubaki-hime looks down, her eyes clouded with shame. "Before, when we were first talking about Sensei... I said some things that I shouldn't have said. And I shouldn't have hit you."
Hisoka shrugs again. "You were upset," he says simply.
Tsubaki-hime gives a small smile. "You're a very kind person."
Hisoka blushes despite himself. People use a lot of words to describe him, but kind is not usually among them. "I'm not..." he starts before trailing off.
Tsubaki-hime slowly pulls her hand away, and leans on the ship's railing. "But, you know, despite everything, there's still one thing that I know: tomorrow will be better." Her smile is firmer now.
"You really think so?" Hisoka asks, looking her in the eye for the first time.
"Of course. I can't possibly feel worse. That means that I have nowhere to go but up." She brushes her fingertips against the back of his hand. "Even if we're dead, tomorrow will be better."
Hisoka can tell that this is an important moment, delicate and deep, but he can't understand it. She wants him to grasp her hand, to reach out to her as she has reached out to him. And if he does... if he does...
He cannot bring himself to take her hand. The moment passes; she steps away. "Well, " she tells him as brightly as anyone in her situation could manage, "we should get back. Your friend will be worried about you."
Hisoka nods. "Yeah, probably." He glowers. "He worries too much."
"I'm sure he means well," Tsubaki-hime assures him comfortingly. Then, she looks at him with a flirtatious glint in her eye. "Well, Hisoka, will you walk a lady to her room?"
Hisoka finds himself blushing again , and he curses internally. "If that's what you want," he answers gruffly.
As they walk back inside, Hisoka silently marvels at Tsubaki-hime's optimism. And worry gnaws at him, because he can feel that it's his presence that she's drawing her comfort from.
He doesn't know how to be anyone's anchor, and he doesn't know how to believe in a happier tomorrow. However, what he does know is that there are two people who need him to be strong for them. And that he can do.
