I do not own Hunter X Hunter.


7. Severity

I sat silently in the cab seat, staring outside the side windows as the raindrops started to come down heavily blurring the driver's vision, and washing the streets of York Shin while turning it into a ghost town. The smell of the rain was heavenly, like wind flowing over fallen trees, like rust and dirt. It was invigorating. The car was briefly illuminated by a passing street light, before going dark again.

I rested my chin on my palm and observed over what I'd done wrong in my date with Killua. No, it wasn't exactly a date. It was more like a friendly hang. Despite the blushing part, everything went perfectly good and I actually enjoyed myself.

You like him.

I never said that.

You didn't have to.

Shut up.

Once I had finished arguing with myself, and I had to admit that I probably had lost, I decided to keep my eyes on the road. I suddenly noticed that the driver was looking at me from his rear view mirror. Now that was creepy. I ignored him. The ride was awfully silent to the point of uneasiness, leaving no sound apart from the pattering of the rain on the windows and the scraping of the wipers across the windshield.

I walked in the slippery streets to the building entrance, avoiding to let the old janitor notice me. With slow and sneaky steps, I walked passed him hoping he wouldn't talk to me. When I reached the stairs peacefully, I exhaled in relief.

"Yuki?" I heard the voice of the old man from behind me, shocked and joyful.

Alas.

"Oh! Takeshi! My man. How you doing?"

"As you can see, I'm doing great. How are you, kid? I haven't seen you in such a long time! Where have you been? How is your uncle?"

"Same old, same old. Marcus there? He called me and didn't sound so good."

Takeshi's eyes expressed a little concern. "I think it is serious, because this afternoon he looked upset over something. He even ignored me when I talked to him!" the old man said with a pout.

"No, he's fine," Marcus said, appearing from inside the building, all light brown hair, melancholic gray eyes, and wrinkled rolled sleeves. "Talking her ear off as usual, Takeshi?"

The old man waved his hand in the air. "Fuck off."

"Yeah," I confirmed, lightly slapping the old man's shoulder. "Takeshi is my buddy."

Marcus frowned. "I appreciate that, Takeshi. Now if you excuse us we have a lot of work to do," he replied as he grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards the stairs. We heard the old janitor cursing under his breath in what sounded like old Japanese before we began our journey to Marcus' office.

"You look horrible," I said. Marcus glanced at me for a moment from the corner of his eyes.

"It's nice to see you too," he replied.

We were standing in front of the office. Marcus picked up the keys and opened the door. "No seriously, what's happening?" I asked. "You sounded desperate on the phone. A complex case?"

"Sort of," he answered me flatly while searching for something on the shelf. I stepped gingerly into the messy office, careful not to bump against a stack of crates that were placed in front of the safe, for some reason. Marcus drew near me holding a piece of paper in his hand that looked like a photo.

"You know this guy?"

I placed my thumb to my bottom lip and fished in my brain, trying to remember the familiar face of the man in the photo. He looked elite, dominant and clearly wealthy. He was kind of bald, and he had a short refined beard. "Yes, I saw him this morning. He is one of the participant guests in the auction this year," I said.

"His name is Kenji Aizawa. I want you to inform your boss of the requirements of keeping a strict surveillance on him. Also, tell him that I personally demand him to make a decision to fully support the investigation. We really need that."

"Why? What's going on?"

Marcus sat down and started to flip around the papers he had in his hands. "He was blackmailed this afternoon. Apparently the blackmailer threatens to kill Aizawa during the auction."

"Wow." I frowned. "Do you have the threat letter?"

"No," he replied calmly, not looking at me. "Aizawa refused to expose it to us in any form. I think the blackmailer is revealing something highly personal in the letter that may ruin Aizawa's business career."

I snorted. "What the hell is wrong with this man? He's worried about his future when he is going to die any minute?"

My mind swam in thoughts and possibilities. Obviously the blackmailer intended to write those personal information in the letter because he or she was aware of the fact that Aizawa cared so much about his career, and it would be impossible for someone like him to easily enclose his awful business secrets to anyone. It was a smart decision on the blackmailer's part.

"Well, Aizawa is not taking this seriously as we wanted him to. He stated that he is going to be involved normally in the auction, leaving everything to the police and his bodyguards," Marcus replied. "Hopefully, nothing is going to happen. I just want you to pass this information to your boss."

"I will," I reassured. "Actually I should go and talk to him now. What time is it?"

Marcus took a glance at his watch. "Almost seven-thirty," he answered. I got up to get out of the place, still slightly unfocused. "Hey, Yuki," he called out.

"Yeah?"

"Take care," he demanded. "Please." His sharp features were instantly gone, and the earlier anger in his tone was replaced by concern as his pleading eyes stared into mine.

"Please," I echoed, reassuring again. "I always do."

Managing to keep a neutral expression, I smiled and nodded slowly before leaving the office. Being the paranoid person I was, and hating myself for it, I manually started to have visions of every possible disaster that could happen in the next four weeks.

What if the history was repeating itself?

Few years ago, York Shin witnessed one of the most audacious crimes in its history which caused a lot of destruction and killings. Over two thousand member of the Mafia along with the auction guests were killed fearsomely when the Spiders arrived to steal the treasures. What if the man who blackmailed Aizawa was as ferocious and merciless? I shook my head fiercely, trying to rid myself of the images clouding my mind.

I stepped outside into the cold night air. The rain stopped its course leaving behind the smells of wet earth, soaked wood and the fragrance of sagebrush. Trying to distract my mind from making its own theories and calculations, I ran down the streets like a maniac. I wanted my paranoia to stop spiraling out of my control.