Hello! Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciated them all, especially since they were all very long and meaningful. I'll try my best to give justice to HxH, such a wonderful anime as it is with its excellent mangaka. Here is the 3rd chap! I've recently just edited this (I'm truly sorry for this habit of mine of updating before editing. Hope you understand, though.) The usual disclaimers apply. Should there still be any errors, please notify me immediately. Thanks again! Read and Enjoy!
III. Bittersweet
Life and death
Love and strife
Light and night
Like the darkest and purest of chocolates
Warming, cleaving
Tempting and joining
You and I
Oh! Bittersweet tension!
The grim and determined expression on the Zaoldyeck's face made his youthful features both beautiful and daunting. He walked through the crowded and stuffy streets, unfazed by the heat of the basking sun or the dozens of lustful looks. Darthwhite, a red-light district in the Fine Isles, was by no means dangerous to normal folk. Which of course, far excluded him. Though he had fine distaste for such dank places, his search compelled him to.
Gon, I wonder what you're doing right now.
Gon Freecs' gift told him two things. First, the other boy did not hate him for anything that Illumi had told him. Although he wasn't exactly sure up to what extent his brother had revealed. The eldest's elusiveness was enough clue; all of this was plotted carefully from the start. The thought chilled him to the core. Killua knew Illumi enough to know that he wouldn't act without the family's orders, which meant that this whole plan of separation, whatever it was, was approved by his father. For a moment, he felt a tiny stab of fear; defying the eldest meant defying his father, and that was a screaming declaration of all-out war with his own family. He knew they wouldn't do anything to him since he was the chosen heir, but he doubted if they would do nothing to people he cared for; specifically Gon.
He wasn't sure what he would do if Gon was hurt because of his family's fury. Worse would be if he was no where to protect him. Killua shook his head in attempt to lighten his fears and focused on finding his way through the musty and impoverished streets.
There was only one possible place where Gon could have bought the chocolate. After all, Zhocolát could only be found in Belgae, a long street of chocolate stores in the isle. Since it was the best-produced chocolate (as was recognized by chocolate experts, and myself, he had pompously told Gon once. He winced mentally; the remembrance was painful) the first owner, an old, somewhat ancient man, refused to sell the recipe and gave it as an heirloom to his descendants. But that was another story; the point is, there was no franchise or other outlets, and since the shop prided itself in especially making chocolates for their buyers, it was impossible to mail-order. However, Belgae street was precisely at the middle of that isle, an area encompassed by red-light districts, and it was difficult and bothersome just to reach that destination.
And he went to all this trouble, he thought absently dodging a drunk man lying on the sidewalk. He knew Gon would do practically anything for him. But why leave me now, Gon?
Killua turned a corner and was faced by a long lane, far cleaner than the one he had been walking through. Flashy signs and boards of chocolate stores blinked before him; he was near his destination. He increased his pace, hoping, just hoping somehow, that he could finally feed on some extra information, something that would point out Gon's current whereabouts. He really didn't expect Gon to be anywhere near, still…
There! He spotted the winding Belgae street and instinctively ran, until he saw an old and tiny shop, with Zhocolát drawn artistically through the frosted panes. He halted before he could crash through the door and excitedly opened the door.
A tiny tinkling welcomed his presence.
For its prestige, the place was really small and simple, but the faint smell of chocolate along with the antique wood seemed to sing in triumph. The foundation of the shop, he knew, was infused with nen, which was the reason for its sturdiness. He had been here once, with Gon, and he was glad its silent elegance was unchanged.
"Yes? May I help you?" came a soft decrepit voice. A wrinkled man emerged from behind the curtains beyond the counter. His glasses shimmered even in the dim lighting; Killua smiled.
"Hello, Mr. Arthurio," he greeted. "I'm not sure if you remember me but…"
"Ah, of course I do, my dear boy!" replied the old man, a tiny smile on his ancient face. "I hardly ever forget my best customers—and I really wouldn't even if I could. Not with your brilliant aura. Not to mention its meeting a Zaoldyeck is a rare occurrence."
"Oh," was the only thing Killua managed to answer. Gathering his wits, he replied. "Then…surely, you remember the one I was with the last time?"
"Yes, that golden-hearted boy, bless the child!" he nodded sagely. "Gon Freecs, was he not? He came here a few weeks ago. I wondered why he wasn't with you…" The man peered at Killua's reaction through his large spectacles; the pale teen seemed to go paler still, his mouth pursed in a thin line. A grandfather's clock gonged from somewhere yet the air remained strangely still between them. Finally, Mr. Arthurio opened the counter door and took the Zaoldyeck's arm gently.
"Come, my child. You seem deeply troubled. I won't ask you what it is, but at least let me serve you some hot chocolate—the best there is, I daresay—at least to make you feel better. I will tell you all about Gon's visit. I'm sure you will want to hear it?"
Killua nodded dimly and followed the older man thankfully inside the house. But his mind was flying elsewhere; a much different time, and a different visit under different circumstances...
"Why do we have to run from them!" whined Killua. "That'd be much easier!"
They were running from a mob of persistent nen-users/gangsters. They had been searching for the famous chocolate shop when they encountered the bullies. Because they looked like mere kids, they taunted them; one even had the nerve to touch Gon's head. Gon, in an easy and forgiving mood, didn't mind. Killua, irritated by their manners and suspecting their perversion, had kicked one of them (the leader, perchance) which led to the chase.
"Because there are too many people here—it might cause a traffic if we leave them lying around."
Killua snorted at the comment; really, Gon had a neat sense of humor even without trying. "Then let's choose some empty corner to pile them."
"Well," considered Gon for a moment. "That could be okay. But it wouldn't be fair on them."
The Transformation user rolled his eyes at the comment but saw his best friend's point. There really wasn't much satisfaction beating up small fry anyway.
"Here!" they rapidly turned a corner and saw a wooden door—carved and owning modest frosted panes. For a moment, he wondered how such an elegant door could be situated in a slummy area, but his hesitation died as soon as it came. He pulled at Gon's arm before he could run ahead and made a grab for the door. To ensure their concealment, Killua pushed his companion behind the large barrels.
"They disappeared, b—" came one wimpy voice.
"YA DAMN IDIOTS! How the fuck could yah lose tho' gits?"
"Dunno, boss. But we was real' lookin'—"
"FIND 'EM!"
The commotion receded as heavy footsteps left the area. Killua let out a sigh of relief. Then, he punched Gon's head reprovingly.
"Oww! Killua!" This time, it was the tanned 13-year old's turn to mope. "What was that for?"
"That was for being too nice. That guy was seriously hitting on you."
"But he was harmless enough!" he pouted. "And I thought he was being nice—giving us directions—"
"—in the opposite direction?" replied Killua exasperatedly. "Probably towards a brothel—"
"Killua! That's not nice!"
"Gon—how could you be so…" he trailed off and looked away. No matter how worried and angry he is, he couldn't seem to express himself. Killua knew how jeopardizing this behavior was, especially in someone so innocent. How could someone so strong and brave be so innocent and naïve at the same time?
Isn't that precisely why he befriended you? Because he is innocent and naïve? His stomach churned as the usual pang of insecurity plagued him. You know he'd befriend even a rabid viper if he saw one. How could you be better?
The answer eluded him.
"Killua?" There was a concerned look on Gon's face. He pursed his lips in worry and guilt. "I'm really—"
"Who is there?" They both jumped. They didn't notice that there was another door behind them. Lost in their argument, they didn't notice how loud their voices were, nor did they notice the approaching presence in their occupation. The door slammed open before they could hide. A bespectacled old man wearing striped low-end trousers and a faded shirt appeared before them.
Instead of becoming angry, he smiled at them. "My, my. You boys argue so loudly. Why don't you settle it upstairs with some hot chocolate? That really does me good."
"It's such a coincidence that we came by your cellar!" blurted Gon as he sipped his warm chocolate drink.
Fiodor Arthurio laughed softly. "Yes, indeed. Fine Isles is such a gigantic maze. It's an accomplishment for tourists to make it here in one piece without any assistance."
"It's a good thing no one tries to enter your house forcefully," said Killua without touching his own offered mug. Gon cast him a strange look but he merely shrugged. His earlier thoughts quenched his excitement, no matter how fantastic the whole thing was. However, Mr. Arthurio seemed to empathize for some reason and nodded simply.
"Naturally, there were some attempted burglaries, but they never succeed." Gon turned his attention back to the old man; even Killua looked up questioningly.
"Ah, I see. You didn't notice. Well then! Look around you. What do you see?" he gestured wide at his simple mahogany-furnished kitchen. "I daresay you need not look long…"
Both nen-users did as was told and gasped. "Everything…" whispered Gon. "Nen-infusion."
"This," said Killua as he stood up to inspect the walls; they warmed to his touch. "Had been woven very intricately. And the nen here is old, but still strong."
"Yes, it should be," said the man wryly. That is the reason why no unwelcome visitors could enter this place even if they wanted to."
"But who…?"
"My great-great grandfather used to be an epicure hunter before he settled down to make the Zhocolát. Because many rivals wanted to get his recipe, he felt it necessary to fortify the walls. One could enter only through the front door."
"But then," protested Gon. "The back—"
"Yes, the door to the cellar was a different case. Only seasoned nen-users who are experts at Gyo could see it."
"You also know nen?"
He smiled and placed a fingertip at the rim of his own chocolate-filled mug; the creamy froth clinging to the sides moved in a tight circle towards the middle. "Can you guess what?"
"Manipulation," said Gon in awe.
"Yes. Along with our recipe, we were taught the basics of nen. It was up to us if wanted to learn more. Now, enough talk! You should both finish your chocolates…"
Killua, who had returned back to his seat, interrupted. "But how did you—"
"—know if you could be trusted?" finished Mr. Arthurio. Killua hesitated before nodding. His mind was churning; for him it was simply too burdening a question. He felt Gon's penetrating gaze at him before it shifted back to Zhocolát's owner.
The old man leaned back on his creaky rattan and pushed his fingertips together. "That is a question which only you can answer yourself."
Silence. Then, Gon's soft yet vibrant voice pierced the tension before it could even accumulate. "Thank you for trusting us, sir."
Mr. Arthurio nodded at the young teenager's earnest expression and smiled in empathy at Killua. "Well then! Since you are special and rare visitors, I insist you spend the night here. I won't take 'no' for an answer." He stood up. "I'll go and prepare you some of my honeyed chocolate buns—a delicacy, if I must say it without conceit."
The two were left alone. Killua wrapped his fingers around the warm ceramic mug but the coldness within him relented. That single doubt seemed to ice his insides.
How could you trust me, Gon?
He was so deeply ensnared by this sole thought that he didn't notice outward movement, didn't hear the sound of someone standing and walking towards him. His reverie, however, snapped when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his shoulder from behind. And as though sharing one mind with him, Gon answered in sincere and gentle softness which thawed the icicles within him.
"I trust you, Killua."
His voice cracked. "But—"
"Simply because you are Killua, and Killua deserves to be trusted." Gon's answer was so simple it awed the ex-assassin. He removed his hands from the mug and placed them over Gon's; the warmth from his companion's hand was all reassurance he had been seeking after all…
"When he arrived here three weeks ago, he seemed bothered. Since I knew you were traveling together, I was curious. He truly seemed sad," Mr Arthurio paused a minute to lie more comfortably on his old chair. "Yet when I was finally compelled to inquire to your whereabouts, a determined gleam came over him. And he said, 'It's best.'"
"He said that, really." Killua's voice was but a ghost's.
"Then he ordered one of my specials. I wondered why he didn't buy a whole box, for all his trouble coming all the way here. I even offered to give him a discount but he declined. I offered him to stay the night, too, but he declined that as well. Truly puzzling—that vibrant youngling has changed so much."
He changed so suddenly I didn't even know if there was a change at all, brooded Killua. Gon, can't you tell me? What made you leave me, Gon? He raised his cup of choco-almond and sipped; it made him feel slightly better but, with a pang, knew he would be enjoying it more with Gon. "And…that was it? He left?"
"Yes…that was all."
"I see," was his answer, sounding as though he couldn't "see".
The mountain moss would have slipped a less nimble character, but Gon's childhood years spent mostly in the wild lent him gazelle-like grace. He jumped and climbed, from one large boulder to the next. When he was near the summit, he grabbed on to a protruding root and balanced himself sideways on one foot, throwing the rest of his body out to look. The sea was really beautiful, but from his place, he could easily view the island he had been traversing earlier.
Fine Isles was really a fine and splendid looking place from a distance.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to feel his best friend's Nen. But he knew that it was impossible; the power of the ocean was vast and could easily nullify his Gyo. But his never-failing intuition told him one thing: Killua was there. It was truly a good thing he jumped out of the island a day ago and had a head start. Gon's sigh was lost upon the whipping winds the altitude provided. He knew he told Killua in the letter that he would always try to be three steps ahead but it was too hard. Killua was his best friend, his comrade, his companion, and since the past year, a whole lot more.
You are being selfish again, Gon Freecs, he scolded. You are acting just like your father.
With a final wistful breath and a regretful last look at the island, he continued his climb with more fervor and didn't stop to look behind. One thought, however, made him pause for a moment.
I wonder if he got my message?
"I suggest you get out of hiding now, Karuto."
Mr. Arthurio started and squinted at the pale-haired Zoaldyeck lounging with closed eyes in his sofa before asking. "Karuto? Who is he?"
When Killua opened his eyes, they were furiously black and icy. "Shut up. Stop manipulating the old man. If he dies, I will kill you."
Suddenly, the old man collapsed on his chair like a puppet and from the walls, a slim form clad in a kimono appeared. An outsider would have mistaken the nen-user to be a pretty, amethyst-eyed lady, but Killua would have recognized Karuto anywhere. For one thing, it was obvious that their mother, Kikyo, still controlled her son's wardrobe. In addition to the garb, a thin lacy ribbon tied his shoulder-length hair back. Thankfully though, the kimono he wore was not flowery but plain violet, which bore striking match with his eyes.
"Hello, brother," he smiled, voice soft as he had been bred.
"Good. I would've blasted you if you didn't come out," said Killua coldly even as he observed that a silvery string was shimmering brightly and wrapped around his forefinger, connected to Mr. Arthurio's head. "What's that? Tricks Illumi lent you?" he sneered.
"Our brother did that, yes, but most of this was devised by me," he answered simply before frowning slightly. "I thought I hid myself perfectly."
"It was perfect," he admitted. "But I thought Mr. Arthurio's movements looked a little rusty and forced, and I noticed that his nen was disturbed. That usually happens when a person is trying to fight the manipulation. It is best if you use your…strings…while a person is deeply asleep first. Then, when you've mastered that, you'll be able to do that more easily with them awake."
"Ah. I will practice that. Thank you for instructing me, brother." Had this been different circumstances, Killua would have smiled, but he was extremely angry and frustrated. Originally, he had no quarrel with Karuto, but his actions were unforgivable. He knew the younger lad would hardly care if he caused mental injury to an old man, but interfering with his affairs…
"Illumi sent you. What do you want? And move your strings out of him now."
Without a word, Karuto obeyed; the man finally slumped more easily into his chair, still unconscious. Curiously, he stared at his elder brother as though willing to penetrate his thoughts. When Killua didn't enlighten him, he said. "You know what the family wants, brother. Why disobey?"
"I don't care what the family wants," Killua answered quietly. "I stopped caring a long time ago."
"Mama says it's because of those bad influences—"
Killua merely raised his brow; why should he be surprised? "Those 'bad influences' are my friends, if that's what you mean. And they've been better influence than any law or code I've learned from the family."
"You will fight the family for your friends? You will fight Father?"
The heir of the Zaoldyeck answered without hesitation. "I will avoid that until it happens. Should it come, I won't be backing down."
"Even Grandpa?"
"Yes…even Grandpa."
Karuto pursed his red lips, deep in thought. His brother saying that he would fight father boded that he was truly serious, but he would even fight Grandpa? Everyone in their family knew that Killua respected the formidable Zaoldyeck, perhaps much more than he did their father. Finally, he looked up. "You really…care for this Gon that much, brother."
It wasn't a question; his voice was simply lilted in awed tones. With a slight shake of his head, he pulled out something from his robes and held it out to Killua. "Your…friend...apparently left this to Mr. Arthurio."
Killua's eyes widened and lost their coldness. He slowly reached out and took the tiny package from Karuto. His hands deftly turned it a few times, checking it out for booby traps. Without opening the box, he already knew what was inside.
The older Zaoldyeck glared suspiciously at his younger sibling both with curiosity and suspicion. "Why are you—"
"'—giving that to me without resistance?'" he finished. Killua held his brother's gaze as the feminine teenager sighed.
"My orders were only to take whatever it is that Gon would be compelled to give you. No one told me I wasn't allowed to give it to you."
"They might punish you."
Karuto shrugged again. "You would have taken it from me forcibly. I will not fight a superior nemesis to lose."
Of course, that was the Zaoldyeck rule, mused Killua. It was amazing how, long ago, that rule had so much hold on him.
"I hope you're sure your—cause—is worth it, brother." And with that Karuto stepped back and disappeared into the wall from whence he appeared from. But he thought he could hear Killua's last determined words as he left:
I am.
As Karuto materialized out of some old wooden bark outside of the city, he sighed again; an action he was certainly becoming quite fond of. He pulled out the empty slip of paper he had taken from the gift and concentrated his Nen into it to read:
Killua, I'll be returning this to you. I know you'll be sad at receiving this but I had to. It would be harder for me to leave if I kept it with me. Take care of yourself.
He shook his head as the letter imploded; it would be no good if his brother gets more fueled by such a message. Having friends is really a dangerous business.
For a full minute, Killua stared at the box before opening the latch with the necessary amount of Nen. The carton fell away like falling petals, leaving in his hand a circular band. As he clasped it in his fingers he could almost remember the immediate heat it had conducted as it touched Gon's skin, the wide and frank smile that tanned face flashed at him when he had received it.
"Gon...this, too. Why?" he asked out loud. Only Gon could answer his questions.
Shaking his head, he tended to the unconscious old man lying exhaustedly on the sofa. He groaned; there would be some explaining to do.
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