Hello there. ∠( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° 」∠)＿
It feels like I'm starting a new story since it's been like 8 MONTHS
So my sorry-present to you is an extra thousand words! Huzzah! Actually, this is a problem for me cuz the word count in the rest of the chapters is in the low 4,000's and this one is over 5,000. I'm OCD okay ⁽⁽(ཀ д ཀ)⁾⁾
EDIT ON LAST CHAPTER: Okay, I was obviously really tired while writing the beginning of chapter 3, because I said "Game of Thrones novel." *smacks face with a rake* I would edit that with the actual title of the book series, but that document was deleted off my fanfic account and I can't find the original anywhere else, so… yeah.
Also, I realized that somehow, Killua knew Phinks' name before even meeting him.
*breaks out into song*
But I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down*
Disclaimer: #prayfortogashi
Chapter Four: Masquerade
Masquerade - a way of appearing or behaving that is not true or real
D:
The second Monday of the school year is by far the most terrifying, nauseating, anxiety-inducing day of the year. Why? Because today is the first day of Major classes.
It's also the first day I'm alone.
Gon and I didn't even meet up this morning, likely because he'd been eagerly waiting in the gym for class to start since 7:00 in the morning.
Me on the other hand...
Riiiiiiing!
... Aaaand I slide into an empty desk in the back of sensei's class.
I shouldn't be surprised by this, but Wing-sensei's still reading whatever 800 page epic fantasy novel it is that happens to be far more interesting than his own career. I guess rushing to class wasn't necessary.
Minutes inch by. So far the class has been silent, but now murmurs and whispers undulate like waves among the 20-odd students scattered around the room.
So, I observe.
On the left side of the room, there's a mismatched group of maybe ten people, all looking like they'd rather be out by the dumpsters smoking something highly illegal than sitting in a geeked-out classroom with nothing to do. I make a mental note to avoid those guys.
On the right side is a weird arrangement, almost like a circle or a diamond of really weird looking kids, seemingly surrounding some straight-faced dude with a turtle shell beanie and green-striped scarf. The others must be his posse. And considering how a few of them are watching him with stars in their eyes, he's probably worshipped, without caring or maybe even noticing.
In the back of the room, it's just me and one other kid. He's a lot shorter than me and obnoxiously fidgety, so it's safe to assume he's a first-year like me.
Basically, of all the kids in the class, I can count on no one to be my crutch.
I sigh. This is going to be a long school year.
Suddenly, Wing-sensei slams his book shut, analyzing us behind his wire-rim specs. He seems to approve, because he puts his book down and smiles amiably.
"Welcome to Theoretical Sciences, class. I hope we can make this semester a good one." He adjusts his glasses. "Now, onto the roll."
(╯•﹏•╰)
Theoretical Sciences is less of a class and more of a fanboy hour for Wing-sensei. We'll be covering topics such as quantum physics, time travel, and nen.** I've learned my fair share about all this stuff from sci-fi flicks and reddit***, so this class should be a breeze. Normally, I'd just zone out, but something about Wing's tone kept me hooked to the discussion for the entire hour.
Still, I'm out of the room the instant the bell rings.
... Flanked by the small kid. His name is Sushi, I think.
"Wing-sensei sure knows a lot." He says cheerfully, the anxiety he felt in the classroom clearly dispersed now that he's in the "safety" of the wide hallways of Hunter Academy. If only.
"It's nothing to brag about." I say, feeling a little arrogant. "There isn't a single thing he's teaching this year that I haven't already learned myself."
"Then... Are you not a sophomore?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He stammers. "I... I just t- thought you looked my age. Everyone else in the class is older, so I..."
I glance at him as he plays with his backpack strap awkwardly. "You what?" I prompt.
"... I thought we could be friends."
It's silent for a long moment.
"(ó_ò｡)"
"Oh." I finally manage. "Uh... Sure."
Little does he know that the thought of having another friend sends morphine-like relief through my veins. But my response is good enough for him, because he grins at me.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Don't you worry, Killua. I won't let you down! ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔᕤ" He balls his fists and steadies himself like he's ready to strike anyone who tries to touch me.
He ends up doing just that.
"Hey Killu - aghhh..."
(งಠ_ಠ)ᓄ )ﾟﾉ □ﾟ)ﾉ
Gon hunches over, holding his side where I'm sure Sushi just knocked his pancreas out of his abdomen.
This "getting hurt" thing seems to be a trend.
"Gon, are... you alright...?"
"Of course. ༼ ಥ_لಥ ༽ (ᵘgᵍʰ)" He wheezes, straightening up immediately. He plays it off like nothing happened. Or maybe his alleged six-pack absorbed the brunt of the blow. Do abs even work like that?
Gon takes in my new bodyguard's appearance. He's five feet of hidden brawn with skin even tanner than Gon's, short prickly hair and eyebrows as thick as hot dogs. Despite his height, he might've looked like a threat if not for his enormous hazel eyes.
Gon, chipper as always, sticks his hand out. "I'm Gon."
Sushi returns the greeting. "Zushi."
Oh.
"Killua and I just became friends." Zushi says.
"Then that makes us friends too!" Gon gives him the thumbs up. "s( ^ ‿ ^)-b Right, Killua?"
"Sure."
Zushi eyes Gon for a moment before his eyes widen. With a gasp and over-dramatic pointing of the finger, he says, "Aren't you the 9.7 kid?!"
Gon rubs the back of his neck. "That's me."
I don't know what kind of life Zushi lives, but I can tell he has two problems: extreme loyalty and unbridled respect. He puts his hands together and bows. "I am honored to be in your presence."
"Don't be." Gon says, which surprises me. This is the first time I've seen him act so sheepishly modest. "It's really not a big deal."
"Not a big deal? You're only the second sophomore to beat 10 seconds during trials in this school's history!"
Gon murmurs, "How old is this school?"
"27 years." I whisper back.
"So who was the first?"
"Ging Freecss." A new voice says.
The three of us turn to see the principal approaching. He's still wearing those funky sandals.
"Principal Netero... （＊;〇□〇）…！" Zushi scrambles to bow, even lower this time than he had for Gon, shouting something like, "Osu!"
"Zushi, was it?" The old man says.
"‷̗ↂ凸ↂ‴̖ " He bows again. "Yes, sir!"
"Hohohoho... No need for that!" Netero chuckles. "And let's see... Gon and Killua, right?"
"How do you know our names?" I ask. I'm a skeptical person, okay? Besides. I'm pretty sure when the principal knows your name, it isn't a good sign.
He chuckles again, the kind of old man chuckle that irks me to no end. "I know everyone at my school. After all, it's my duty to transform you all into worthy Hunters."
"That's just a dumb mascot." I grumble. "It doesn't mean anything once we graduate."
Netero just shrugs with an unsettling smile, obviously not going to elaborate on what he meant. I have to remind myself that I don't care.
"I stopped to talk to you for a reason." Netero says. "Gon, could you come with me to my office? It'll only take a moment."
Gon makes no move to follow. "It's about Ging, isn't it?"
"Yes and no." He says. "But I think you'll want this conversation to be private." He turns toward his office, not waiting for Gon to follow.
But he does. And he doesn't even say good-bye.
Zushi scratches his head. "What was that all about?"
Honestly, I don't know. And at this point, I'm not so sure Gon is going to tell me about it.
But right now, that doesn't matter.
Because the warning bell just rang.
!ヾ(▼皿▼ﾒ)┌θ (ﾉ □ )ﾉ ﾟ ﾟ
Lunch couldn't have come soon enough. I thought I knew what I signed up for, but apparently with General Ed, the staff picks your elective classes.
Theoretical Sciences, Current Events, and Painting. And after lunch, Fashion & Textile Design. No wonder Misfits end up stuffed in lockers.
During the school-wide announcements after second period, perky Maia the senior president announces that there's a Halloween dance in the middle of October. The good news is non-existent. I could write a 10-page report on the bad. But to simplify the matter, I've made a list of the main, heinous points.
You come with friends or a date. No masks allowed. No leaving the gym. And… it's required.
H.A. has something called "Participation Points." In an attempt to get the students more involved, they require you to earn 10 Points per term. The dance is five Points.
I exhale all the air out of my lungs.
While the suffering makes me anticipate an hour of complete freedom, the sight of the Spiders in the quad reminds my queasy stomach that school - or at least, Hunter Academy - is never freeing.
Before they can spot me, I pivot and practically run down the hallway I just exited.
A few minutes later, I get a text from Gon.
Where are you?
Something about his text immediately strikes me as odd: he didn't include an emoji.
Now, I should be thankful for that. Teenage boys shouldn't be using so many smiley faces and flowers in their conversations. But this is Gon, the definition of uncanny. So a missing emoji is actually a point of concern.
400s, I type back, wondering if I should've also asked if he was okay.
But maybe that would've been pointless, because when he meets up with me, he's grinning his normal, shining smile.
"My aunt was making cookies last night, but she accidentally added too much salt." He digs around in his backpack. "So she doubled the batch and gave me like, 40 cookies to share at school." He pulls out a ziploc bag with a single, double-chocolate fudge cookie in it. "I saved you one."
I snatch the bag from him and down it before he can even blink. "I can't believe you ate the rest all by yourself." I swallow. "Selfish."
Gon laughs. "I didn't eat them! The other sprinters did. Besides, I don't really like chocolate."
"You did not just say that."
"It's too sweet."
"'Too sweet' isn't materially possible. Too salty on the other hand, that's a real problem."
"You're pretty salty, Killua."
I flick his forehead. "You're weird."
He pouts a little before pulling out his lunch and binder. "Look at this." He holds up a packet of paper, probably an inch thick. "These are all the notes I'll need for Geometry this semester." He shakes it a little to emphasize the daunting task he has ahead of him.
I did tell him I was decent at math. But then I remind myself that I've never taken a college prep math class, and that's all H.A. offers. So I guess we'll fail together.
⎧ᴿᴵᴾ⎫
It's hard to say good-bye to Gon today. While he's off lifting weights with his brawny buddies, I'll be sewing tutu's with a bunch of…
I gulp.
…girls.
I think I'd rather be in a class with the Spiders.
And as luck would have it, my wish is granted.
"Hey, it's that one kid." Machi picks me out immediately. She's leaning back in her chair, fingering a finely sharpened sewing needle.
Well, at least it wasn't the gorilla of the bunch.
Her table partner, a short guy dressed in black looks past her to get a good look at me. "Is that the kid Uvo keeps saying he wants to slaughter?"
"Yeah."
That's awfully reassuring.
I start to slide away towards my usual spot in any classroom setting – the back corner – but Machi snaps her fingers to get my attention. "Kid. Are you a Fashion and Beauty major?"
"U – um…" Frankly, the last person I need knowing that I'm a Misfit is a Spider. So for the sake of cautionary protection, I'm a Fashion and Beauty major. "Yes."
Even though I can't see his mouth, I can tell the goth guy is holding back a laugh – his eyes betray him.
Machi elbows him. "Don't be a hypocrite, Feitan."
"Uvo would love to hear this."
Oh, great. It seems I've met yet another Spider. How big is their gang anyway?
"Do you need something?" Machi deadpans, arms crossed. I realize I'd been frozen in place, staring at them like a brainless idiot. I quickly shake my head, tripping over to an empty table.
If my luck doesn't run out, I won't have to have a table partner. Who'd want to sit by a snotty dork anyway?
Apparently Pigtails does.
A short blonde girl, probably my age (if that), slides into the empty chair next to me. At first, all that runs through my mind is an escape plan, but then I realize there's a reason she chose to sit next to me: all the other seats are taken.
I manage to keep a cool façade. Just barely.
The teacher, a child-sized woman with more make up on than a clown enters the room. Her professional name is "Cutie Beauty." (Just another sign to me that I have to transfer out of this class as soon as humanly possible.)
Class starts, and so far, Pigtails hasn't so much as looked at me. This is a good sign.
But then Beauty decides that we should get to know our table partners. Apparently knowing things like their favorite breakfast food and the color of their toothbrush will significantly improve our teamwork this semester.
That's right. Teamwork.
Meaning – I have to talk with, work with, and cooperate with this girl for the next four months.
I keep my eyes staring straight at the date in the corner of the whiteboard for the next minute. Everyone around us is already deep in small talk. I'm just waiting for Pigtails to make the first move.
Two minutes pass. Then three, four, five.
I can't take it anymore. I spare her a glance.
"Well that took long enough." She frowns a little, and for the first time since laying eyes on her, I notice that her irises are actually pink – the same pink as her poofy dress. I think it's safe to say she's wearing colored contacts.
I blink out of my thoughts. She's staring at me. Actually, now that I think about it, she's been staring at me since the teacher put us up to this daunting task. Self-conscious, I sniff in whatever nasties are threatening to spill out my nose.
"Do you need a tissue?" She asks.
I start to talk but my throat is dry and scratchy. So I just shake my head.
"Suit yourself." She shrugs. "I'm Biscuit Krueger, by the way." She holds out a daintily gloved hand. "But for the sake of keeping this as casual as possible, you can call me Bisky."
Maybe it's a California thing, but some of the names I've heard so far a freakin weird. But I have to say, "Biscuit" takes the cake.
"Killua." I say and return the handshake, my skin barely grazing the fabric of her gloves. At least I'd like to have said that. Her grip is iron.
"Don't be so nervous." She says, taking on the tone of a strict old lady. "It's probably your first year here, but there's nothing to worry about. You'll fit in just fine."
"Um... Are you implying that you aren't a sophomore?"
Flashback to the conversation with Zushi this morning. Only, I'm not going to ask "Bisky" here to be my new best friend.
"I'm a senior."
I give her the elevator eyes. Short, thin, dresses like she's in the fourth grade - it's too much to believe. I guess the filter I installed is faulty because words tumble out of my mouth before my brain can even evaluate them. "You're an old hag!"
Remember her iron grip? Well, she packs steely punch. I'd be shocked if my entire arm doesn't turn purple.
"What was that for?" I yell, forgetting that there are other normal people in the room.
"I'm only 17! In everyone else's book, 17 is young and youthful!"
"You look like a little kid!"
"And you look like a snotty brat!" She crosses her arms, pointing her nose the other way.
I do the only thing I know how to do: mirror her actions. So I cross my arms (more like cradle my useless arm) and glare at the opposite wall.
It takes a moment before I suffer from my daily dose of humiliation.
"Bravo!" Beauty stands on a chair, clapping like we just won a Golden Globe for our performance. I swear she even wipes a tear away. "That is exactly what I look for in a promising pair - tension!"
Yeah there's a lot of tension: in my blood. I think my skin color's permanently changed from sickly white to cherry red.
"Success is born of passion; raw, burning emotion! Tension is pressure! Pressure spurs hidden bouts of creativity!" She hops off her chair and struts over to us. "What I see in the two of you is promise. I can see the fire in your hearts. With just a bit of kindle and a spark - " She grabs our hands. "You'll be a bonfire."
Bisky and I exchange a glance. As much as I hate my table partner already, I can tell we agree on at least this: our textile design instructor is a nutcase.
"It was fate that you two sat next to each other. You're the perfect team!"
We also strongly disagree with her analysis.
"Miss Beauty," Bisky says, clasping her hands together. "You're so flattering! ✿"
I scowl. Traitor.
"I couldn't ask for a better professor." She sings. "We'll owe our success to you! ⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )"
Beauty makes a heart with her fingers before moving back to the front of the classroom. I shoot Bisky a glance of antipathy. She chuckles like the spawn of Satan behind her hand.
Class resumes after that horrific episode, but there's no way I can relax. Bisky isn't the problem anymore - it's the other students, the ones who keep sneaking looks back at us every two seconds. Please, move one people. Nothing to see here.
Beauty rambles about the importance of the fashion industry for the next forty-five minutes. I know because my eyes are trained on the clock the entire time. The sound of the final bell is like magic.
I'm out.
❀∋━━o(｀∀´oメ）～→ / (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧
One of these days, I'll learn that trying to avoid people never works. At least, at a school as unconventional as H.A., it doesn't.
"Killua!" The blonde witch calls out for the entire academy to hear, chasing after me all the way to the front parking lot.
I can't take it anymore. I whip around, knuckles clenched tight. "What do you want?"
She stops, not even out of breath after running across campus and pushing through crowds of people twice her size. What kind of mystical being is she?
"I just want you to know that I'm taking this class very seriously. It's part of my major. So you better not mess this up for me." She gets in my face (or rather, tries to) by standing on her tiptoes. Her finger jabs my chest. "I'll make you regret it."
She pulls back, her signature feigned-innocent smile on her face. She waves, twirling to bounce in the other direction. "I'll see you on Wednesday, Killua!ヾ(ˆ∇ˆ)ﾉﾞ "
My head hurts. So does my arm. And yes, there's a purple patch covering about half of my bicep.
By now I'm sure the entire school knows my face. In my dreams, that was supposed to be a good thing. But popularity due to complete loser-ness isn't what I imagined, as shocking as that may sound. I duck my head like a turtle as I walk.
Mom's in her usual spot, scrolling through "health foods" on Pinterest. They should re-label that pin "dinner ideas for when you want to off your children." I let out a breath. Good thing she wasn't looking out the window.
"There you are, Killu!" Mom whips her head up to smile like a freaky clown as soon as I open the door. She waits 'til I'm in, the door is closed, and I have my seatbelt on.
"So who was that girl?"
Safety before gossip.
"What girl?" I mumble.
"You know who I'm talking about!" She says. "I saw her. She's a cutie."
"I only saw a devil in a dress." I grumble, not meeting her sunglassed scrutiny.
She puts the car in drive. It's a silent ride for the first few minutes. And hey, I'm immensely grateful for that.
But then...
"You should ask her out on a date."
"MOM!"
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⌐■-■
Hunter Academy takes pride in "keeping up with the times." They have an account on pretty much every social media site and app in existence. You know what that means. Parents – or in my case, nosy brothers – always find out about the events you never planned on bringing up.
"Mother." Illumi says at dinner, breaking the characteristic silence at the table. "I learned something very interesting about Killu's school today."
I stand so fast I hit my knee on the table. "May I be excused?"
"Eat your vegetables, Killu!" Mom says.
Reluctant, I plop back down. She can make me sit, but she absolutely cannot make me eat brussel sprouts.
"What I read on the Twitter," Illumi says – and yes, he did say 'the Twitter', "was that Hunter Academy is having a dance in October."
"A dance?" Mom cries out. "Killu, why didn't you tell me?!"
"Do you really need an explanation?"
"This is the moment I've been waiting for!" She stands, pacing around the table. "None of my other sons ever went to dances, but that mistake won't be made again. I've already got a tuxedo picked out for you, just in case a moment like this ever came. Oh! And I'll need to hire some photographers and call a limousine service and – "
"Mom!" I shout. "I'm not going to the stupid dance, and even if I were, I wouldn't want you to make a big deal out of it!"
She freezes in her tracks, cranking her neck to look me in the eye. "You… what?"
I cross my arms. "You heard me. I'm not going."
"B- but – "
"Killu, I think you're mistaken." Illumi cuts in. "Vice Principal Hill specifically said that the dance was required for every student. It's part of your Participation Points."
Okay, the truth is, I was planning on going – only because it's required. But I wasn't going to go with anyone, like on a date or something. They never said that part was required.
Mom comes behind me, placing her hands on my shoulders and shoving her face just inches away from mine. That way, when she starts screeching, she can really get the point across when spit flies all over my face.
Softly, she says, "You would make Mommy so happy if you went to that dance."
Sometimes, it surprises me that in that last fifteen years of my existence, Mom still hasn't picked up on the fact that I could care less about what she wants from me. She wants her favorite son to grow up and take over the family business? Sorry, but no. She wants her little boy to give her hugs and kisses every morning and night? I'd rather eat these green fiends on my plate. She wants me to go to a stupid Halloween dance?
"Fine." I make sure to add an over-dramatic groan. Can't have her thinking I'm doing this for her sake. "I'll go to the dumb dance. But – " I cut her short. "No pictures, no limousines, and NO smothering."
She sniffles a little. "You're eyes are so cold now, Killu. You're growing up to be a fine young man!"
I slip out of her grasp before she can death-hug me. "Now may I be excused?"
Mom's so happy that she forgets I haven't so much as touched my brussel sprouts. She just nods as tears spill out her eyes.
See the kind of family I live in? You'd want to run away from home, too.
I suddenly trip on something small. It's my youngest brother, Kalluto. I seem to always forget he exists.
"Sorry." I say before dashing past him to the safety of my room. I go through the double doors and lock them in one swift, desperate movement. Not that a lock would do much good. I'm pretty sure anyone in this family who wanted to break in could, each in their own, twisted way.
I take a good look at my room. Our old house was pretty snazzy, but it's just a puny apartment compared to what we live in now. Just my bedroom is in size comparable to a couple classrooms put together – not to mention the ceiling is three floors high.
Lining one wall are built-in stone bookcases. I have an enormous collection of books, video games, and DVDs. The wall opposite is actually floor to ceiling windows. I'm sure the view outside is great, but I've kept the curtains closed at all times since we moved in.
The adjacent wall is where my flat screen and shelves of video game consoles are. Opposite that is my bed. Of course I'm the only one who sleeps on it, but I bet about four adults could share it and still have breathing room.
To top it all off, I have a bathroom and closet that would put the average master suite to shame. Marble floors, diamond knobs, 12-inch rain shower head – just to name a few things.
Now you may be thinking all the Zoldyck children are treated equally. Not the case. The only other child with a somewhat-luxurious living space is my older brother, Illumi – and that's only because my parents believe he "earned" it. Sucking up for more than twenty years really pays off.
But anyway, the question that may be forming in your head is why I, the middle child, get the special treatment. Well, it's like I've said before: I'm supposed to inherit the family wealth, status, and mysterious business all because my hair is freaking white.
To think there are people out there who don't consider my family to be a band of hopeless nutcases…
I wait a moment, debating on what I should do with my evening when a now-familiar buzz vibrates my leg. It's a text.
But this one isn't from Gon.
Hi Killua! I saw Gon after school and he gave me your number. Is that okay? I don't want to seem like a stalker D:
I read it over a few times, trying to figure out who the heck it is. A second text ends that mystery.
Oh by the way, this is Zushi
From Theoretical Sciences
._.
Zushi's emojis are not nearly as cool as Gon's. And that's saying something 'cause Gon's can be pretty tacky at times.
I'm not sure what to say.
ok
Good enough.
I end up laying on my bed, staring at the cold chandelier hanging menacingly above me. It's a brass candelabra. It adds to the creepy effect this room – or the entire house – has. It's more of an above-ground dungeon than anything else.
But to me, it's relaxing. Tranquilizing. I prefer the desolate dark.
It lulls me to sleep.
Next time, on Misfits:
Incommodious - uncomfortably or inconveniently small
The Usual Notes That No One Reads But I Feel The Need To Write Down Anyway:
*Human by Christina Perri. Great song. But have you heard Human by Krewella? Bomb.
**Yes, nen. Now, I know I said there would be no nen in this story but guess what. People lie.
.
.
.
(๏ᆺ๏υ)
But also it's not real nen. It's more of a theoretical concept… which… you probably picked up on already… since it's talked about in a… theoretical… sciences class…
ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ(ノ；Д；)ノ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀、、ヽ｀ヽヽ｀、ヽ｀｀、ヽ｀ヽ｀
***Reddit. No explanation necessary? P.S. I don't own it.
I probably already replied to a lot of you but that would've been months ago. I barely remember what I ate for breakfast, so there is absolutely no way I'll remember who I replied to back in like, February. I'm sure you don't mind though :3
VitameatavegaminGirl: Thanks for the support! It took my three-quarters of a year but yay I sort of put my life back together! (๑•̀ㅂ•')و✧
Phoenix-Thunder: This Killua is practically my SI character lol except contacts don't make me feel cooler XD So we'll see how/if contacts change anything for the HxH fandom's precious baby. I'll use magic or something. ༼(∩ ͡°╭͜ʖ╮͡ ͡°)༽⊃━ ﾟ. * ･ ｡ﾟ
Aqua468: Stop it (´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ your review was enjoyed more :3
Laurentia60: Aw, thanks!(❛ั◡˜๑) Loving that adorable emoji too!
Guest: omagoodness, I love that word! I'd never heard it before you suggested it. Know that I will use it in the future, 100%.Ⓣⓗⓐⓝⓚ｡:.ﾟヽ(｡ ౪ ⊙ )ﾉﾟ.:｡+ﾟ Ⓨⓞⓤ
K1lluaa: Bingo, you're spot on! Lol I literally haven't planned anything for this story. I just take it one chapter at a time. Thanks so much and don't worry, you're English is perfect! ( ˘ ³˘)
Melissa the kawaii yandere: I haven't listened to that version! *moseys on over to youtube* Thanks for the follow and fav! (( ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ))
KiGaMin: You're the sweetest! I'm all for mirrored-canon AUs. They're just exciting idk haha cuz you're like, "Hey! That makes sense!" Or at least, that's what I do XD Thanks for the review ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ
Girls In White Dresses: Hello again XDXD I feel like there's not much to add here since we PM so much! Here's a reminder of how much I love your reviews: ": .• ✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴
Okay so a super quick note about Bisky: NO SHE AND KILLUA WILL NOT BE A COUPLE! NO
Lawl cya'll in April 2017. Boketto-muffin OUT. |-/
(jk I'll try to update at a more reasonable pace)