Killua woke up in a mess of sweat, disoriented. He could see nothing in the pitch dark, and the air was damp with a sickly humidity, suffocating. For a moment he thought he was back in his solitary cell at Heaven's Arena, waiting for Master Feitan to come for him again, and an icy chill rushed down his spine.
He didn't want to go back; back to the nights of tears and blood, to the days lived in a haze, scarcely knowing who he was but for a slave, hanging on to himself by a thread and on the precipice of falling over. He scrambled toward his corner.
But as he moved he felt his leg brush up against another, warm with life and heavy with sleep. He wasn't alone in his cell. He wasn't in his cell. He wasn't at Heaven's Arena. Killua's breathing gradually slowed, coming back to himself.
They were in the the Republic of Mimbo, a city a few days past the great gates. Youpi's band had dropped them with the local traders upon arriving, instead loading their wagon with Mimbonian slaves and turning back the way they came. Killua and the other slaves were sorted like livestock by slavers whose speech they barely understood and shepherded into a severe cement holding cell, forgotten for days. Killua guessed that they were either waiting for an auction or the next caravan to take them on the road.
He couldn't care less either way, and while Leorio had fretted over their situation Killua felt at ease. If he was auctioned, he could easily get away from the next halfwit to think him a good buy. If he was shipped away, it would only save him the trouble of finding another ride.
A flicker of dim light took him from his thoughts. It peeked through the cracks of the cell door, drawing closer from the direction of the main entrance and barely there in the dark of midnight. Not the mess slave, judging by the sound of the careful shuffling outside. The lock turned, slow with caution, and the normally loud steel bolts made only a quiet click in the night. He felt Leorio stir beside him, suddenly alert.
The door cracked open slowly and the light shone in, a dimmed smartphone screen that barely lit up the small cell. Holding it was a chubby man, sweating heavily in the heat, his small glasses sliding off his face slowly. He surveyed the slaves fast asleep in their tight rows and his eyes lit up as they landed on Leorio.
Leorio had also bolted up when he saw the man, and picked his way across the room to catch him in a tight hug. The chubby man huffed a laugh, holding him, and they spoke to each other in hushed whispers, a dialect that Killua recognized as Sahertan.
"Got the key from the kitchen boy. Lad was scared but I convinced him to come with us," the man explained in heavy breaths, "Leo, my man, I thought I'd never see you again. We looked everywhere for you, no trace, nothing. Almost lost hope when Gel saw a description of you on the slave board in town. Took us forever to find this place."
"I knew I could count on you guys." Leorio's voice sounded a bit broken with emotion. "I knew you would look for me when I-" He broke off, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes with his palm. "Let's talk later. Let me get some others."
His eyes swept around the room and he started circling around to rouse some of the slaves he had befriended over the days, those who had cried and had wanted to escape. Killua noticed he didn't approach any of the trained slaves, and wondered with a bit of amusement where that left him. It didn't matter, because he could guess where they were headed.
"Come with me," Leorio whispered as they woke, gesturing them to be silent. "I'll take you to Yorknew, to the Free States. We have connections, we'll get there safely. Find you all a good place to stay, honest work." He spoke with a lilt in his voice, pointing them to the open door, and Killua could see the slaves' faces light up in the dim light. They had all heard much of Leorio's friends over the days, through hushed discussions and whispered stories. To think that one would actually come for them must have been a dream come true.
When Leorio had cleared them all he paused, hesitant, and finally turned to Killua. The emotion was raw on his face, anguished and somehow resigned. Killua hadn't moved since seeing the door open, and that had surely told him enough.
"Will you come with us?" Leorio still asked hopefully. "I-" he looked toward his friend with a desperate frown, "I know you were told not to run but if you need, Ginta can order you to come. It might be a shitty few days but as soon as we land we'll get you some help, teach you how to resist the pull-"
Killua raised a hand to stop him, shaking his head. Anywhere else and he would have gladly left with this overly righteous fool, but he couldn't go to the Free States. "I'll be fine, Leorio," he assured, "I take good care of myself. You saw what I can do." He smiled as he got up, reaching a hand out to clasp the other man's, and the hope died in Leorio's eyes. "Good luck on your escape. I'll visit you if I ever go to Yorknew." He was sure he would never go, but he said what Leorio needed to hear. The other slaves were rousing from their sleep; they would need to leave quickly.
Leorio seemed to notice it as well, and gave him a final, sad nod before he slunk out the door with the others. His hand slid out of Killua's grasp, and it felt somehow cold all of a sudden. The chubby man gave him a nod in farewell, and slowly pulled the door shut behind them. The quiet click of the lock rang hollow in the half-empty room.
Killua felt his way along the wall and settled himself down in a corner he remembered was empty, careful not to wake the others. It wasn't the first time he'd had to bid farewell to someone who might have been a friend, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Slaves weren't meant to have friends. He tried to reassure himself in that this one, at least, was going to a better place than the others.
He tried to forget the man as he closed his eyes, but he couldn't sleep after that.
In the morning there was a progression of heavy footsteps outside, and the door unlocked to a group of Mimbonian slavers with chained manacles in their hands. Their faces twisted in confusion when they saw the half-empty room, and their bellows jolted the slaves awake, demanding to know where the others had gone. Luckily none of the slaves had seen Leorio leave, and Killua feigned innocence with them, shaking his head with wide, baffled eyes.
They were hosed down roughly and chained, and the licks of the whip bit sharply on his wet skin. But they left only faint red stripes, temporary marks that would fade with the day, and Killua knew what it meant: they were being auctioned.
The slavers pulled them away when they realized they would get no answer, seemingly pressed for time, and herded them into a clearing not far from where they were held. An eager crowd had already gathered around a worn wooden stage, and now their eyes swept through the line of slaves, analyzing. Killua was at the front of the line, and he analyzed the crowd in turn as a peddler dragged him forward by his hair.
"First we have our white one, trained in Zaban." The peddler introduced him briefly and pushed him down onto his knees. Killua went willingly; he would be good for now, and escape would be easier later. "Starting at five hundred thousand."
The crowd began calling out prices, and Killua watched them impassively. An old man with thinning, grey hair dominated for a while; he would be easy to please and easier to lose. Then a bespectacled woman seemed to take interest, and Killua watched the way she eyed him, gaze filled with want; he would bed her well, and take off while she slept.
His price hovered just below a million Jenny, and it seemed the lustful woman was about to win her prize. Killua had begun eyeing her through fluttered lashes when a mellow voice rang out from the back of the crowd.
"Two million."
A hush settled around the stage, and all eyes turned to see who it was that took such a high interest in a slave. Killua's gaze also snapped away from the woman, and landed on a dauntingly familiar man who had not been there a moment before. Long, black hair, pale, translucent skin, and a pair of charcoal black eyes that were smiling at him amicably. Illumi waved, and Killua felt his blood run cold.
The bustle of the market suddenly muted; the tug on his hair faded as his body turned numb. He could see nothing but his brother, who was walking up to the stage-to him-with an unfitting grin that dripped with satisfaction. He had found his favourite toy.
Or perhaps he never lost it to begin with. Killua had thought he was free to flee, had thought if he disappeared quickly enough he could never be found. He had forgotten that Illumi was never far away. He could spread his wings and practise his flight, but he was only a kite on a loose string, in the end.
There was nowhere to run. There had never been.
"Breathe, Killu," his brother's voice curled comfortably into his thoughts, and Killua felt himself immediately choke in a breath he'd not known he was holding. His pounding heart told him to breathe faster, but his breaths slowed and calmed. Illumi's smile seemed to quirk a little as he turned toward the the man auctioning off his plaything.
He said something but Killua couldn't hear it, and handed the man a card from the breast of his shirt. The slaver soon unlocked his cuffs, and a familiar hand laid on his arm, guiding him. He didn't know how he ended up in a car, but he felt himself buckle the seatbelt when a quiet voice ordered it done.
Illumi ignored him as he drove, and Killua concentrated down at his hands, desperately failing to push down the part of him that screamed he had done wrong. It wasn't until they'd pulled to a complete stop somewhere that Illumi broke the silence, placing a firm grip on Killua's wrist.
"My bond is still intact?" Illumi asked, voice buzzing with power, and he felt a familiar pull course effortlessly through the touch and into his body. Illumi's bond, always in the back of his mind, came forward and joined with it seamlessly, and Killua was gone.
"Yes, sir" he whispered, not quite having the energy to put voice to his words. But Illumi could surely feel his will give in. Answering was only a matter of formality.
He was ushered into a hotel room, one with a nice hardwood floor that felt cold beneath his knees. Illumi threw himself down onto the bed, making himself comfortable as he tapped a few messages into his phone.
"Mother sends her greetings," he informed casually, "and she wonders why you didn't come home after you got away from the Arena. Should I tell her you went on a trip?" He didn't know, but he nodded. Illumi continued typing for a while. "She says good kids come right home after school. She's disappointed in you," he updated, then his voice turned cold. "I am too, Killua."
The name yanked at him like a leash, and Killua felt a rush of guilt consume him. He'd known his brother would be disappointed, so why did he run? Did he misbehave on purpose? He didn't remember; he didn't understand. He only knew that he had been bad, and he felt as if he might cry. "I'm sorry," he choked.
"You will not do it again."
"Yes, sir."
His brother hummed in approval and his bond loosened its pull, just enough for Killua to breathe again.
Illumi's voice regained its humour. "It's a good thing I caught you before you flew to the Free States, little bird. Mother would be so sad." No, he had been good for that, at least. He hadn't gone with Leorio. "Oh-" Illumi seemed to read his thoughts, "you weren't planning on going there, were you? You're a good boy."
A tingle ran down his spine, and Killua quivered with it. Illumi leaned in to run his nails through his hair, and goosebumps spread across his body. He felt the bond lodge itself tighter into his will.
"Very well, then, tell me. Where was my little bird flying to?"
"I-to Zaban, I think. I didn't have a plan. As far from home as possible."
Illumi hummed again and was quiet for a while, toying with his hair. "You can go to Zaban, as a reward," he finally said. Killua looked up to him in surprise, accidentally catching his brother's eyes, and immediately hated himself for it. They kept him pinned there, drilling through his mind, eating slowly at his thoughts. "Don't sneak in with traders this time," Illumi was saying. "I don't want to see any more whip marks on you."
His brother moved and Killua gasped, finally released from the gaze and left disoriented and lost. He could no longer find himself in his mind, only a distant pounding headache on the edges of his awareness.
Illumi returned a few moments later and handed him a credit card along with a scribbled note. The letters refused to form into words. "Find that man when you get there. Get close to him, get his information, kill him. He deals with slaves, quite annoying. He's been a thorn in Father's side for some time."
Killua nodded. It was a simple order. He understood that order.
"This hotel room is for you," his brother's voice became sweet, and he messed up Killua's hair, and Killua was glad he'd been good. "I want you to get cleaned up before you leave. Buy yourself some nicer clothes with the money." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, blackened chain, crouching to fasten it on. It looked prickly and unrefined, and it just barely fit end-to-end around Killua's neck. He wondered how much it would scratch once the pull was gone. "Don't take this off unless you need to play pretend. Apparently you need a reminder of who you belong to, Killu."
Killua's eyes dipped as he nodded, and he felt his brother scratch a finger under his chin. It made him shudder.
Illumi said nothing after that. Killua listened as he shuffled around the room, trying but failing to make sense of the sounds he made, until finally, he heard one that pushed past the fog of his mind. The door to the room was shutting. Illumi was gone.
Killua couldn't move until hours later, and he only found himself again when the sunset had already poured in through the glass wall beside him.