Chapter One: Inheritance X Blood Oath

Home was even gloomier than usual.

No one said a word to him once he'd arrived back at the Zoldyck estate. When he pushed through the seventh door of the testing gate with only a slight grunt, the butlers were waiting for him on the other side. Even Canary was silent, her gray, expressive eyes cast solemnly down. Killua squeezed her shoulder as she led the way up the mountain. He noted that she seemed to have risen in the ranks since he'd been gone. Killua was glad of it. He had never forgotten her loyalty to him. She would have been his friend, if it had been allowed. She had always done as much as she could for him.

But there was nothing she could do now.

Killua had expected to go to his father's lair, where they'd always spoken before. He checked a little when the butler gestured down one dimly lit stone hallway.

He'd never been in his parent's bedroom before. It made sense that they had one, of course—even assassins had to sleep every once in a blue moon. And he did have four siblings. As charming as it was for Killua to think that his parents had mated in the woods like animals between murders, that probably wasn't likely.

The room had bolted double doors. Canary tapped on it five times with her staff.

Untrained ears would have missed that each tap had a slightly different pitch.

It opened from the inside and Amane's scruffy head popped out.

"What is it?"

Canary gestured to Killua.

"I have the young master."

Amane looked him up and down. She took in how much he'd grown: he was six feet tall now, only a little shorter than Illumi, and his lean muscle was visible even underneath his black turtleneck and black pants.

She moved aside without a word and Canary fell back. Killua went in alone.

The first thing he noticed was the massive bed with a headboard carved from dragon bone. He immediately stopped focusing on anything else. There, propped up against the pillows, still fully dressed, was his father.

At first, he thoughts this must be a joke-an absurd, unfunny joke or perhaps an elaborate ruse to get him to come home. Silva looked the same as he always had. He was still an absolutely massive man, still filled out with hard muscle. He was holding one of the weighted teacups and his blue eyes glinted when they fell on Killua.

He couldn't be sick. It was impossible. Killua had never seen anything get the best of his father. He remembered being just one or two years old and watching Silva had always seemed like more of a distant god than a true father. It had never actually occurred to Killua that his father was mortal, let alone that he might die in bed like an ordinary man.

But Killua's senses were too strong now to fail to notice it: the wavering life force, the candle blowing in the wind that was his father's heartbeat. It was one gust away from going out.

Silva smiled. "Killua."

Killua swallowed back sudden tears. "Dad."

It took him another second to notice his mother sitting on a tall backed chair by the bed. She jumped out of her seat to come enfold him in a hug. He allowed it begrudgingly, even though the smell of her perfume made him want to gag: blood and hemlock.

Her face was wet with tears and her visor went fuzzy.

"Oh, Kil. You're home. I'm so happy. Papa has been waiting for you."

Killua pulled out of the hug as gracefully as he could. He had never been able to reciprocate his mother's feverish…devotion. He couldn't call it love.

"Mother."

Even now, he felt pity for her. His father had always been the guiding force in the family, the steady hand that kept all the haphazard pieces from falling apart. Though they had never shown much outward affection towards one another, Killua knew that his mother loved her husband and that she would be utterly lost without him.

"Come sit with us," his mother demanded. She was wearing the black kimono she used to wear, with her long black hair pulled up into a beehive. "We have much to discuss. The transition of power must be smooth. Papa has many plans."

Silva's low voice rumbled out and it was still strong. "Kikyo, leave us alone for a while."

She whirled on him. "But, papa, we said that we would handle Kil together!"

Silva grunted. "Just do what I say."

"I don't want to leave you…"

Killua saw his father's face soften ever so slightly. "You can come back in a little while. I'll still be here. I'm not stupid enough to die without you, woman. My soul would never have any peace."

She hesitated but then her face glazed over into a mask of calm. She kissed Killua's cheek swiftly before sliding out of the room.

Silva managed a wry laugh. He gestured to the now vacant seat beside the bed.

"Come on, boy. Let me see you."

Killua stepped forward and did as he was bid. He was careful to keep his face composed. He'd thought, at nineteen, he could handle anything. He was quickly being proved wrong.

"I'm sorry," Silva said simply. He shut his eyes for a moment and Killua felt his stomach drop into his stomach before they opened up again. "I realize my dying is going to cause quite the mess for you."

Killua ducked his head so that his bangs would shadow his eyes. "That's not true. I can handle it."

"I know you can. You are my son, after all. You have more of me in you than any of your brothers. I would trust the Zoldyck legacy to no one else but you."

When this got no response, Silva sighed.

"Look at me, son."

Killua looked up and met his father's steady, pensive gaze.

"Will you do it? Will you take your place?"

There was only one answer.

"I will."

"Swear."

Killua took a deep breath. "I, Killua Zoldyck, will lead the Zoldyck family until my death. I so swear."

Silva bit his thumb to draw blood and Killua followed suit. This was their second blood oath, he remembered now. It would also be their last. As they pressed their bloody thumbs together, Silva's relief was palpable. He broke out into a genuine smile and in that moment, Killua thought that all of this might be worth it: just to see that look. His father had never looked more proud.

"I can die in peace now," Silva sighed. He coughed and splattered his forearm with black blood. Alarmed, Killua stood to call for help but his father waved a hand.

"It doesn't matter. There's nothing they can do. Your mother has had every doctor in the world here to see me. They all said that if I were a normal person I would have been dead ten years ago. Look at me…immune to every poison, stronger than a dozen oxen, world-renowned Nen user…" he let out a bitter laugh. "Killed by a damn genetic disease that skips generations. I would find it funny if it didn't mean I had to leave my boys alone."

Killua twisted his hands together, feeling as helpless as a newborn. It had been years since he'd felt so weak.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered. "Dad. Tell me what to do."

Silva gestured for Killua to sit on the side of the bed and then placed a large hand on top of his son's ruffled silver mane.

"Listen to your instincts, Killua. You were born for this. I have faith in you. I always have."

Killua swallowed the lump in his throat. "Please don't go, dad."

His father shrugged. "Not even I have that power. Death and I have been friends for a long time. It's time I go greet him properly. Killua…you'll be okay. Because you're my son."

Killua gripped his father's outstretched palm. "Okay, dad."

Silva coughed again but there was no blood this time. He looked tired, like a traveler come to the end of a long and eventful journey. "Send your mother back in."

"Okay, dad."

Silva smiled. "Good boy."

X

The flower falls in May

Each petal lost

Somewhere where summer

Never dies

An hour later, Silva was dead.

They burned his body on a rainy Sunday afternoon, a simple, dignified ceremony with the entire estate present. Killua held his mother's hand, partly because he was afraid she would become histrionic and fling herself onto the pyre if he didn't.

His father would have hated that. When it was time, Killua gave a brief, emotionless speech saying that he would be assuming control of the Zoldyck estate. No one was surprised.

Illumi stood, blank faced as always but Milluki was a blubbering mess. Kalluto's face was half hidden by a fan. There was no point wishing for Alluka—it was best to leave that situation be. Alluka was happy far away from all of this.

He could hear some of the butlers crying. He said nothing to them.

It was the end of an era and no one could be certain what came next. Let them cry. He envied their position: he wanted to cry too.

There was one person there that Killua did not recognize. He could hardly be bothered to notice until the ceremony was over and they were trudging back up the mountain in the miserable rain. Sandwiched between two butlers was a slight figure draped in a black kimono with a white sash.

He waited until his mother was safely out of sight before swiftly yanking the stranger out of line.

"Who are you? What do you think you're doing here?"

A girl with warm, honey colored skin and dark purple eyes looked up at him blankly. She was no more than five feet tall. At first he thought she was child but the curves still visible under the heavy fabric of the kimono told him otherwise.

"You're trespassing. How did you get past the guards?"

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Killua was in no mood today. If not for Illumi's intervention, he would have snapped her neck with two fingers right then and there. His older brother appeared from nowhere, as he had an annoying habit of doing. It had not taken him long at all to notice that Killua had deviated from the path.

"Relax, Kil. That girl is our guest."

Killua blinked uncomprehendingly but he released the girl, who as of yet not said a single word. Was she terrified into silence or just stupid? He had really been about to kill her.

"Since when do we have guests?" he snapped.

Illumi's eyes were as empty as always. If he was angry that he had been passed up for the position as head of the family, despite years of loyal service while Killua had been gallivanting around the world, he did not show it. "You should speak to mother."

The girl was looking as if she very much wanted to disappear. She had a mess of dark brown curls that she was currently attempting to hide behind.

Killua looked at his elder brother. "You clearly know enough. You tell me."

Illumi touched his chin with a long finger. His dark hair was slicked back, a few damp strands clinging to his face.

"Mother wanted to be the one to tell you. She'll be upset with me if I do."

Killua straightened up. "What if I order you to tell me?"

Illumi chuckled. "Are you giving orders now, Kil?"

"Stop messing around and tell me!"

Illumi sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Fine."

He pointed at the cowering girl. "That," he said, as if it were the simples thing in the world, "is your wife."