Authors Note: Hunter X Hunter is NOT mine. That being said, the relationship between the characters leave much to the imagination of writers. This is my take on what could've occured when Biske asked Killua to leave Gon during the Chimera Arc. Read and please express your opinion.
KILLUA
I know I'm a selfish bastard. That's a truth so blatantly displayed to all and sundry that even an idiot, let alone any one with half a brain, could figure it out. More than just simply being selfish—I'm possessive as hell, perhaps THE most possessive bastard this side of greed. I know what I am—I wouldn't be telling you if I didn't accept the fact that I have this particular character flaw. NOT that I think there's anything particularly wrong with the way I am.
And yet it wasn't wealth that I crave—being born into wealth; knowing all the privileges money and influence could buy for me, there is nothing that I would trade or waste to acquire it, except maybe time and even that's negotiable. Money means less than nothing to me. A means to and end—or in my case—a means to secure the occasional decent meal and housing and my chocolates. All else I could acquire through my own strength.
I'm not swayed by the promise of power; of the temptation or illusion of control over the fate of others. I've been an assassin for far longer than I wasn't—spent more than half my existence holding the power to end a man's life in my bare hands. Now that's power. It was a power more tangible than any wielded by a politician or a monarch. And it's one I've had more than my fair share. I don't miss it. I don't think I ever would.
No, my sole desire is not one of the normal enticements that lure men—it's not the allure of seduction brought about by the presence, acquisition or dominance over a beautiful woman—I have no need for that and my porn collection would suffice if I ever become weak enough to succumb. Nor is it pride and fame that I covet with the intensity that has yet to know any name. There's a time and place for pride and fame is even more worthless than the dead leaves that crunch beneath my feet. A good solid reputation is a far more lasting commodity than simple fame.
No, my goal was not SOME thing. It was a SOMEONE. Not just any old one. A very specific someone—namely one painfully naïve, powerhouse of an idiot who wouldn't know what possessiveness was if it walked straight up to him and clobbered him with a ten-ton hammer. Imagine the irony if you will—my one desire in the whole world is the one creature whose heart I could not coerce, threaten or dupe into accepting the delicate chains of possession I crave to place on him.
That's my goal, my one true desire given tangible form. Gon.
The one person who never cowered in fear of my deadly skills, my erratic and explosive temper, my fickle nature over joy and anger, or even my dark past. Gon who never questioned my choices in life and never condemned for the lives I had taken. Gon who looked at me with eyes clearer than the finest gems in the entire world, and saw someone worth saving, worth caring, worth living for. Gon, who took me out of the shadows from where I was spawned to show me that there's a place for me in the world of light.
Gon.
But now all of that is about to change. I am about to lose everything. One promise would cost me everything in my world. I needed a miracle. I couldn't lose Gon. I don't even know what kind of life waits for me without Gon. And truthfully, I don't want to know a life without him. Because if I live without Gon—it would no longer be a life, it would barely even qualify as existence. A life without him would be a million times worse than an eternity in hell. Without Gon, the world would be a waking nightmare for me.
BISKE
I didn't fear much in the world nowadays. Those that I have cause to fear I stay well away from. But sometimes I wonder if perhaps it is my own sense that I should fear. I stared at the young man and once lethal assassin in front of me and wondered for the umpteenth time why I felt like a heel for what I am about to do.
"What did you say?"
I didn't look away from the incredulous look in his eyes or the note of outrage in his voice. I steeled myself even more at the look of betrayal that flashed ever so briefly in his fierce eyes that was an arresting amalgamation of deepest grey, blue and green.
"If you lose tomorrow, you will give me your word that you will stay away from him. You will walk out of his life and you will sever whatever ties you have with that boy."
"You're crazy! I can't do that! Gon is my friend! My best friend! He is --!" the outraged voice stuttered to a halt as quickly as it burst from his lips. I watched the fire and anger warring inside him. I was surprised by his control—his deference to my status as his master holding him at bay. I was prepared for an all-out battle—expected it, actually, since I was poking my finger into the one thing this child assassin held sacred.
"I know what he is. I know what he means to you—"
"No you don't!! You have no idea what he means to me—no one knows what he means to me. And now you who will never know that truth—who couldn't possibly fathom what he stands for is asking me to give him up. How could you?"
"I am only doing what I think is best for the both of you."
"How can that be the best? How the hell can that be the damn best?" he roared, his fear of me temporarily retreating to the back of his mind. "You are asking me to leave behind the only good thing in my fucked up life! You want me to abandon him and for what? A reason you only think is justified?"
"You are the main reason for this decision boy."
His eyes blazed in fury as his words were pushed through gritted teeth. "Me? How can it be me? Why is this about me? Are you saying I'm not good enough for him? I'm not good enough to be his friend?"
"Are you?" I asked quietly, staring straight at the agitated young man pacing in front of me like a caged tiger. I watched and waited for him to rail at me but none came. Actually his pacing slowed before coming to a complete stop. He became silent as a ghost for more than five minutes. All he did was stare at the prone body of his child-like companion, flinching with every hitch of the wounded youth's breath. When he spoke, it was with a somber truth that made me feel like I was intruding upon something private.
"I will never be good enough for Gon, Biske. I could be reborn and remade into another form, another body, another boy but I don't think I will ever be good enough for him. I don't think I ever will be nor will anyone else."
"You are surprisingly honest, boy. But the truth remains that you must leave that child's side. There is something inside you that compels me to make you leave."
"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked irritably.
"Have you noticed the way you fight boy? Have you paid attention to how you pick your opponents and how you go about fighting them?"
He gave me a dry stare before shrugging, his eyes once more trained on his sleeping friend. "I fight to win Biske. That's generally the way I was raised. A dead assassin is a no good assassin as far as my father's concerned."
"If that's the only flaw I see we would not be having this conversation. The truth is boy, you run away from fights where you aren't sure you'll win. You never take risks, you never engage in a tussle where the results aren't guaranteed. That's your biggest flaw and its one that might—no that would definitely get that boy killed if he stays with you."
"What?!"
"One day, you will confront an opponent that's just a little stronger, a little faster, a little better. When that day comes, you will run away, boy and worse of it—you will sacrifice him if it means getting yourself out."
"I will never sacrifice Gon!"
"Then you will simply leave him behind. You will turn your back on that boy and run. You will abandon him and as sure as I desire gems, he will die when you do."
"Gon…I-I would never--!"
But while the outrage in his voice was dying down, I saw the stark grudging, haunting acceptance in his eyes blaze forward. He knows the truth—knows it and loathes the fact that he has no control over it. No, he would never willingly cause his friend any harm—more likely he would do everything to prevent that wonderfully naïve young man from causing harm to himself. But if and when the situation becomes beyond even his considerable control, instinct will, inevitably, take over.
"Now give me your word. Give me your word that you will leave that boy to a fate far better than one with you beside him. A fate far better without the prospect of your betrayal looming ever closer to his side, coming closer to him with every breath of your traitorous heart. Better that he die by someone else's hand, through someone else's folly than he die knowing he's been betrayed by someone he calls friend.
I know I was riding the boy harshly, forcing him into a corner by painting the harshest image I could muster. My eyes never left his own, waiting for that one tell-tale hint that I have finally won him over.
"I can't!"
The shout was deafening but I knew he was weakening, his protest half-hearted, the pain and outrage was dying out. Defeat and grudging acceptance was slowly seeping inside him. I was sickened by what I was doing but it had to be done. Even now, faced with his pain, I knew that what I'm doing was necessary.
"Don't force me to make you boy. Give it freely or I will beat you to submission just so you can't do anything but agree to it."
"What do you want from me Biske?" the broken voice made me suck in my breath. Success. I tried vainly to ignore the bitter after taste in my mouth.
"Your promise—your vow—on your Nen—nay, on that's boy's life—that you will leave his side if you cannot win on the morrow."
"Will you allow me to care for him until his strength comes back? Until he recovers enough strength and his Nen to defend himself?"
"And then will you go?"
"I will do what I must."
"You will not let him find you."
Prepared as I was for his anger and his hatred, my heart was not proof against raw anguish. Especially when I had to see it mark one of the strongest souls I have ever come across. I steeled my heart against the loss in his gaze, the emptiness in his heart clearly reflected within his jewel-like eyes.
"I can't guarantee that. He found me once. He managed to track me down and drag me out of my family's stronghold. And you should know well enough about how stubborn and determined he can be when he wishes it."
"You will make certain that he doesn't find you."
"I will make certain as long as I could extract one promise from you."
"Promise?"
I felt the temperature drop until no part of me remained untouched by the glacial cold that permeated the room. The ice-cold look he pinned me with chilled my blood and for the first time I considered the monster he will become in the future—the monster I helped shape and felt a swell of fear and unmistakable pride.
"You will swear to me, Biske, on your life, your skill as a Nen-master—on every fucked up gem in the known cursed universe and beyond that you will protect him from all harm. You will care for him—you will defend him with your miserable life you old hag or die trying. You will NOT let him die or I will spend eternity and with every drop of my blood making sure you scream yourself to death. Are we clear?"
"Like diamonds, you trigger-happy brat. Like thrice-damned diamonds."
KILLUA
He risks much and he knows how enough about himself to know that he feels the thrill of danger as well as any man that has tasted the nectar or adrenaline. He is known to be the most daring of his brothers. He would risk much to get his mark or complete his job. His brother was no fool. He ensured that rouge Zoldicks would not cause any of them any problems. Illumi made sure that he would not be allowed to fall prey to his own recklessness. His bastard of a brother made damn sure HE would always choose survival over actual battle, especially against one stronger than himself. The thought would've been heartwarming and could easily be mistaken for genuine caring and affection if he didn't know that Illumi was a manipulative possessive jerk. Illumi simply made sure he would not go after his brother's selfish, insane ass. Even now he could recall the mind-numbing pain that once laid siege inside him. His soul battling against the foul gift his brother so thoughtfully provided to him without so much as a whisper of his consent. That tainted needle that hindered his potentials from growing—flourishing into its fullest level.
But he also knows that there are some things we would not risk. No if the price of safety and survival was Gon. He would choose death a million times over, in hundreds of thousands of ways, rather than live in a world where his most precious one did not exist. He would sooner carve out his own heart—and nearly did—in order to keep the one he treasured above all safe from all harm and every possible threat. Even when that threat came from within himself.
He would trade heaven and take on hell's own army for Gon. He could and would tear his own family to the four winds if they so much as dare breathe a word of threat towards Gon or those that Gon valued. There was nothing—nothing—in the world he would not dare, not forsake, not challenge and win over if it meant the world would have Gon in it for another day, another morning, another sunrise. If it would afford Gon a minute more of joy, a moment more of awe, he would bring it about and damn all the consequence.
No power stolen from another being, no creature known to man or beast alike, no king or God—imagined, created or disillusioned—nothing and no one would strike fear in him nor cause his step to falter if that being stands between him and Gon. If laying to waste to an entire species of powerful, soulless and fearless race isn't enough of a proof—then he would continue to rearrange the heavens and fate itself if it means he could keep Gon safe and with that smile always on his lips.
BISKE
The young man that stood before her now bore little resemblance to her latest charge. Although physically only the bruises on his body marred the otherwise unearthly dark allure of the former assassin, there was an indefinable air of transformation around him—around both of them. Power. Yes, that's what it was. Barely leashed, exquisitely lethal power exuded like the most subtle of perfumes—alluring, seductive and deadly.
"You look a little too worse for wear, boy."
The thin pale lips gave the smallest of smiles. It was filled with a lifetime's worth of derisive amusement and inexplicable cheer. But most surprising of all was the serenity in the otherwise normally turbulent blue-green gaze. He lifted his shoulders and gave her a shrug. The move oddly reminiscent of his action once before, that long fateful night when another decision was made in that very room. His graceful stance remained as poised as ever but there was now fluidity to his body's motion that was all at once enticing and frightening. The easy way he held himself belied the coiled strength that he could and did command at will.
"Bruises, small cuts, cracked ribs or two, a dislocated shoulder and enough hairline fractures to cause someone a heart attack, but other than that we're just peachy. Enough to consider that we must be lucky knowing who we were up against Baba."
Biske gave a loud snort but for once she didn't punt him straight into the stratosphere for daring to call her an 'old hag'. Her eyes were too intent on her inspection of the young man's change. Perhaps she could've brushed aside the sudden surge in the power that he now held inside him, perhaps even ignore the unmistakable fragrance of danger that clung to him, a much more potent one than the faint scent that used to surround him before he went to battle the Chimeras wreaking havoc on that godforsaken island.
"Ora…I thought I was imagining it but you did get more interesting boy…"
Once, she could have mistaken the flare of energy as a natural reaction to the battle ready conditions he must've maintained while battling strong adversaries. Once, but then, she would have noticed it and worse, commented on it out of turn. It was inevitable, just as it was surprising. But this was something fascinating, even for her.
"I try, Baba. Wouldn't want to bore you…"
"Impudent wretch…"
"As you say…"
"I assume that you came here for something other than to brag..."
"I never brag Baba…"
"Hmp. Not for lack of trying boy, you must think I will mistake you for other young one. However did he manage to pull of these miraculous recoveries I will never know. Surely the gods were in a more favorable frame of mind when that boy was born."
"The gods have nothing to do with it, though I am thankful for whatever they did to ensure that Gon lives through his bruises. Any other fighter and even I would worry. As things stand, the doctor said he would soon wake up better than new."
She cast a look at the dark haired young man. Once again the lively youth from the tiny island was asleep, wrapped in numerous bandages, lost in healing sleep. But whereas once upon a time he lay there close to death, now even with his injuries undeniable power radiated from him, marking his very air with strength so immense it would cause a lesser being to faint.
"Boy, the gods love that boy as surely as they love anyone else born under the luckiest star. But you don't need any old doctor to tell you that he would recover. That boy is strong."
"Those gods better continue loving him or else I might wage war against heaven or hell to get him back."
"Big threats you're making there boy. No need to fear. He will be back with you soon. And here I thought no one could ever take that man's place. That boy—he really is that wretched man's son."
. "No threat Baba, you know me. Just facts. There is nothing I wouldn't do or dare for him."
"Even though you run at the first sign of danger? Or have you found the key for that particular Pandora's box?"
"I won't be running away from anything anymore, Baba. I got rid of my little –er—unwanted gift. Terminated it if you will. You could say I finally cut myself off from all links of home."
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Yep. I found and neutralized my little problem permanently. I would have done more if that's what necessary especially if the price I need to pay is the place I have by his side. I would let go of a hell a lot more but I will not give up on him. He is mine to protect."
She gave a loud cackle of laughter, causing the young snow-haired youth to smile as well. She reached out a hand and stroked the young man's cheek. His eyes widened before a small smile settled on his lips. He allowed her touch with gratifying ease.
"Yes, he is. Protect him boy…only you have the power to stay by his side and the strength of will to keep him safe from harm. Make no doubt, others will come for that boy—either to aid him or cause him harm. Many would desire that power for themselves, many would wish to corrupt him to gain that power or have him wield it for them. Keep him pure, keep him safe and keep him as he is."
"You don't have to tell me that Baba. I intend to."
"Good. Now, when do you intend to lay claim?"
"Baba!!"
"What?! I was just asking."
"It's not like that Baba."
"Oh? So what is it then? Tell me…"
"Maybe when I figure it out, but maybe not even then."
"You know, you're one possessive brat."
"Yeah, I know…"
"He's one lucky or unlucky kid—I can't figure out which."
"Ask him when he wakes up. Tell me what he says."
"Deal."
