Chapter Title: In Which I Flirt with Danger

Refined Villain X Keeps Getting Better X Dirty Little Secret

"I am called a magician, but I'm not really a sorcerer. I'm actually a person who thinks quite scientifically. The first card wasn't just a restraint; I already predicted that it would turn out this way." ~Hisoka

"No following, no resisting…What is reflected in the eyes of a devil?" ~Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles, 90

I admit I was a little…disappointed.

I had expected Hisoka to be this completely insane clown who would virtually slaughter me where I stood. My sadistic Nen trainers (the Terrible Twins), other Blacklist Hunters, Tsukasa, most people I asked—without hesitation, they described him as a blood-thirsty lunatic, a lust murderer, a monster.

They were right. Multiple news reports, obituaries, witness testimonies, and recordings provided ample evidence to condemn the self-proclaimed magician as a terrifying monster. When asked, Hisoka the magician openly admitted he killed for pleasure with a mysterious, sly smile.

But the Hisoka I had encountered had been...Well, I wasn't entirely sure how to describe him.

Dangerous, powerful…definitely an outrageous flirt, very confident (borderline arrogant), witty, a flamboyant pervert, scary as hell…and handsome. Damn his good looks to the seventh circle of hell. I always hated killing aesthetically pleasing people—such a waste. Then again Hisoka's lilting voice was kinda annoying…and he implied I was Kimura's whore.

But, aside from being creepy, the magician had seemed…pretty normal.

Does that make me abnormal? I wondered as I unbuckled my seat belt. The airship captain had just switched off the seat buckle sign. Am I slightly insane to think that Hisoka is actually not as crazy as everyone claims? It wouldn't surprise me to know my sanity was teetering on a fence. Most assassins were slightly crazed, or went nuts before the end of their career.

However, the worst part of it was…I didn't think I was losing my marbles, or that Hisoka had lost his.

When I had looked into those beady baby blues, I hadn't seen the glint of insanity or a far-away, unfocused mist. What chilled my blood was that Hisoka had been looking straight back into my eyes, a cool, almost logical, steeliness in the way he met my gaze. He was intelligent, genius-level intelligent. I should know. I'm a genius. I can pick out my kin.

Hisoka allowed himself to be maligned as mental when, in reality, he had his marbles lined in rows.

Exactly the way he wanted them.

"A puppeteer through and through," I murmured, suppressing a shudder as I rose from my seat. With the knowledge that my two worst nightmares were too damn close for comfort, I had taken the first airship available to leave the Iuam Keys. It was a red-eye flight but better than sleeping with one eye open, clutching a dagger under my pillow.

I wandered down the dimly-lit hallways, quietly exploring and curiously peering through the little cabin windows, taking mental stock of my fellow passengers. Mostly businessmen, it appeared. Probably single. Some sleepy vacationers flying to San Appollo to catch another flight to their homes. I shook my head.

Enough thinking about families and single men, I scolded myself. The little manual in the first-class cabin mentioned something about a dance floor on this airship that's almost always open. Go find it and use it to calm your nerves. Obviously the terrifying ordeal with the magician and the Zaoldyeck shook you up. Even though I had found and sold Kimura's Hunter license for four hundred million, the zeni had done little to soothe my jumpiness. I swear I could sense Hisoka on this airship at times…but that was probably my developing paranoia jumping at shadows.

The Dance Room was my idea of heaven—smooth obsidian tiles, flashing strobe lights, colorful klieg lights, loud upbeat music, a luminescent bar to the side, and a few neon-colored dangling lights near the exit and restrooms.

I grinned as I slowly walked in, absorbing the deep bass assaulting my ears and sending vibrations shooting through my body. A cheerful blonde wearing the airship uniform handed me a blue glow stick armlet, wishing me a good time. I thanked her as I moved forward, taking a quick look at the exits if I needed to escape. Other than the door I entered through, there was a door behind the bar counter and the airship windows.

Exits noted, I eyed the dancing crowd, standing on the writhing fringes. Not a bad crowd considering it was one in the morning.

Prepubescent punks, hormonal teenagers, single men and women in their twenties and early thirties…I would blend in with the prepubescent crowd. Somewhat. A light blue V-neck sweater, gray corduroy pants, and boots were on the overkill conservative side from what I saw. Apparently tube tops, t-back shirts, and jean miniskirts were in. And tons of elastic bracelets or several glow sticks.

Feeling like a nun and rolling up my sleeves, I decided to sit out the first few dances and observe, learn the footwork and styles. It differed from country to country, airship to airship, train to train, boat to boat. I looked around, smiling, and caught a few boys—thirteen to fifteen—staring at me. All but one looked away when I met their eyes; that fourteen-year-old boy winked, and I blew him a kiss. He grinned, amused, and headed toward me, a mischievous gleam in his navy blue eyes.

I automatically sized him up.

Five foot, eight and a half inches. One hundred and thirteen pounds. Chestnut brown hair, navy blue eyes, charming, and amusingly arrogant. Too bad I was his senior by seven years, but since I have a twelve-year-old's body, it's not like men in their twenties will dance with me. They'd look like pedophiles. It's probably a compliment that teenage boys are willing to dance with me.

Then again, teenage boys couldn't hold a candle to the older men when it came to good looks. Like Hisoka.

I blinked, surprised at myself, and shoved Hisoka and assassination in the back of my mind. Time to dance for fun, not dance to kill.

The attractive fourteen-year-old stopped beside me, leaned a shoulder against the wall and smiled down at me. I smiled back up at him, feeling nothing but an eagerness to dance. No heart pounding, no sweaty palms, no blushing. Even when he leaned forward to loudly ask, "Would you care to dance?" Any seductive whispers would have been drowned out by the relentless techno music blaring in the background.

I grinned and hid my disappointment at the lack of a chemical-hormonal reaction. "Sweep me off my feet."

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Quietly singing Please Don't Stop the Music under my breath, I headed back toward my cabin at four twenty-two in the morning, ready to collapse on the pull-out bed in the cabin. My muscles were still sore from the clash between Kimura and I, and three hours of dancing wasn't helping with their recovery. Not to mention, the bandage disguised as a choker around my neck was coming loose; it hid the bruises from Kimura's choke grip. I was so ready to crash onto the cushy, soft pull-out cabin bed...

I yawned as I pulled open the cabin door and stopped in the doorway, my humming dying off.

Someone was in my reserved-for-Hunters-only first-class cabin.

A gorgeous red-headed devil reclining in a seat beside the window, his feet propped up on the seats on the opposite side of the wall. A few inches taller than six feet, and a little over two hundred pounds. His unruly hair was, surprisingly, hanging down and framing his aristocratic face. The devil glanced over when I opened the door and a sly smile graced his lips. "Hey."

Sweet Kami above!

I scowled, my heart leaping into my throat. "Why are you in my cabin?" My fight-or-flight response was on red alert, and most of my previous weariness fell away but only most of it. Why was he here? Damnation, now he knew I was on the same airship...but how could I have known?

"Your cabin?" Hisoka's eyebrows rose. "This cabin is reserved by the Hunter Association, and therefore, is open to all Hunters." He reached in his pocket, and I stepped back into the hallway, preparing to dive to the side. Hisoka saw this and paused. "Relax."

My eyes narrowed a little further. My sadistic Masters usually said that…right before they suddenly attacked or did something horrible to me. "Uh huh," I said suspiciously, but allowed him to pull out a card-like object from his pocket. His Hunter's license.

"See?" With a twist of his wrist, the magician made his license vanish into thin air. "I am a Hunter too." Since when?

"Isn't there another cabin?" I asked, stepping back into the doorway threshold. "The Hunter Association tends to rent out more than one room to avoid conflict." Kami, how did he find me? And since when did the magician become a certified Hunter? I needed to do some background research pronto, provided I didn't get killed first.

"No, the captain said there is only one cabin on this airship due to its small size," Hisoka explained. He didn't seem bothered at all by this arrangement. Then again, I wouldn't put it past him to be lying.

"F my life," I muttered, hovering on the door threshold.

Hisoka smirked and winked at me. "If you say please."

Did he just…offer to fuck my life?

For a moment, I gawked at him speechlessly, my mouth open. Then, seeing the magician giggle at my expense, I shut my mouth and turned a beet red. Kami above! Had Hisoka just implied he wanted to screw not only my life, but me too? My face felt so hot that I swore the skin would start melting off. Hisoka's soft chuckles amplified my mortification.

"Hell no," was the wittiest response I could push out in a pitiful self-defense. My mind was still reeling.

The magician must have followed me or traced my electronic ticket. Either way, how Hisoka had magically found me wasn't important now. To obey flight or fight? Personally, I was leaning toward the former.

But it wasn't like I could jump out of the nearest window. Even with Nen cushioning my landing, the airship was hundreds, or thousands of feet above ground level, and the end result would be multiple broken bones and internal bleeding, or death. Contrary to popular belief, I happen to like living.

But, if I ran, where could I hide on such a small airship? What if Hisoka followed me? If he did, how long could I avoid the magician before my worn out body couldn't keep up?

Damn, I was at a disadvantage...Hisoka had caught me completely off guard and had managed to trap me. Somewhat.

Admittedly, there wasn't really much point in hiding because that would only help me avoid Hisoka until the airship landed; then he would probably see me sneaking off the airship. If I hopped out a window when we landed, a young girl with auburn hair, wearing a blue sweater and gray pants running across the open, cement landing strips was pretty easy to spot. And I doubt I could beat the crowd in the rush to get out of the airship.

No, it would be better to keep an eye on Hisoka. Plus, as much as he scared the bejeebers about of me, I…I wanted to see if he was really crazy or not. Or if I was simply imagining his sanity. From what rumors I'd heard, one minute Hisoka could be smiling and talking to you, and the next minute you would have a playing card embedded in your face. And you would be dead.

I wanted to test my little theory that Hisoka was as sane as anybody else, maybe even more so.

Other than his smirk becoming a little lopsided, his smug expression didn't change. He was way too pleased with himself. "Won't you join me?" Hisoka asked, sitting up and lowering his legs from the seat facing his. "It will be a long time before the airship lands."

He had a point. As much as I hated to admit it…

But that didn't mean I would glibly plop down in the seat across from him and try to get to know him. Sitting across from Hisoka, my target—we would practically be in the same breathing space. There must be a reason why people claimed the magician was crazy. His aura wasn't exactly radiating gumdrops and roses; it felt malicious and restless like he wanted to strangle me. Also, Hisoka's speed was also legendary. I could escape an attack more quickly if I was further away and standing on the threshold of an unguarded exit.

"Maybe later," I replied coolly, resisting the urge to cross my arms—a sign of defensive body language. I need my arms down at my sides, ready to slam the cabin door or grab a makeshift weapon. Too bad my weapons were in the belly of the airship.

"Suit yourself." His smile dropped, his lips forming a thin line. Was Hisoka…disappointed or displeased by my decision? I couldn't tell. He only looked bored now, no longer amused, as he kicked his feet back up on the airship seats.

We didn't speak. Neither of us really moved. The atmosphere between us wasn't tense or awkward, just uncomfortable. Some time when I had been gone, Hisoka had opened the curtains covering the window. The inky sky gradually lightened to navy…to pinks, oranges, and yellows as the sun rose…and then the colors faded into a uniform sky-blue.

The entire time I waited on the balls of my feet, ready to bolt if Hisoka reached into either pocket. If he suddenly went insane on me, I wanted to get out of the way. Oddly enough, the red-head had changed his outfit to something more normal—a half-zipped black jacket with a popped collar, a plain white t-shirt, sable slacks, and equally black loafers. On the top of his head rested a pair of dark sunglasses. He looked like a model, posing for a punk picture shoot.

It was probably six or seven o'clock, if the sun was just up. I leaned against the doorframe, my legs begging for a reprieve. Forty-five minutes to go before landing…

I started badly when the airship captain suddenly spoke on the intercom. "Passengers, I apologize for the inconvenience but we'll have to land on another airstrip. A tropical storm is developing off the coast of San Appollo. We will arrive at Hien Airport in approximately two and a half hours."

A tropical storm in the fall? I frowned. The ocean around the Iuam Keys was warm around this time of year, and it was the middle of cyclone season so a storm was possible, but unlikely. The weather forecast had mentioned cloudy skies in San Appollo, not a tropical disturbance or depression.

My eyes narrowed as I stared at the unusually calm magician, who seemed totally unsurprised by the change in course. Earlier he did say, and I quote, "It will be a long time before the airship lands". Did he have something to do with this?

Hisoka glanced at me as if sensing my suspicion. "Manipulating the weather is beyond my abilities," he oh-so-kindly informed me.

Well, duh. No human being, with or without Nen, could manipulate the weather but…

"But controlling people is within your abilities," I countered, pushing off the doorway so I didn't lean on it. My right arm was beginning to lose sensation. "It's your forte."

I didn't like the way his eyelids lowered minutely or the way his mysterious smile took on a more sinister curl. "What are you implying?" Hisoka asked innocently, looking anything but innocent. Especially mostly dressed in black like someone from a yakuza.

My knees bent slightly as my leg muscles tensed. If he attacked, I could avoid a card attack or a flying foot or fist. From there, I would have to improvise. "The pilot, the co-pilot, the captain—they are not above…persuasion." Like bribery, blackmail, or threats. "And I have a feeling you can be very persuasive if necessary."

"I can be persuasive," he admitted, his expression calm and unreadable, "but I didn't persuade any of the airship crewmen to do anything."

My auburn eyebrows rose skeptically. "Really?"

"Really."

At this point, I don't think Hisoka was aware that he was my target. Why should he? The magician saw me targeting Higuchi Kimura. Unless he was aware of the contract and the commissioners…No, not possible. Hisoka probably figured out that someone had set a bounty on his head—how could he not, with multiple assassination attempts?—and it explained why his sudden appearance on Kimura's private island with his friend, Illumi Zaoldyeck. Hisoka immediately came to the Keys to throw off pursuers…and ran into me in the process. Me, the assassin trying to avoid him.

Irony is such a bitch.

Anyway, at any rate, Hisoka benefitted if the airship landed at a different airport. He wouldn't be flying back into what he knew would be a nest of assassins. Any would-be murderers who tracked him to the Keys somehow wouldn't figure out that Hisoka was in Hien until he pulled a Houdini and left them with a cold, dead end to the goose chase. The magician could vanish for weeks, months, without anyone knowing his location. Except me, the assassin who didn't need to know his location.

F my life…At least Hisoka didn't seem interested in categorizing me as a 'fruit' or 'toy'. That jerk seemed satisfied with screwing with my head.

Arming myself with a friendly smile, I asked with an all too sweet tone, "Why am I having a difficult time believing you?"

"Because I am a liar and you don't trust me." Hisoka mirrored my congenial smile, and, sitting up, he leaned forward and patted the seat across from himself. The one his legs had been propped on. The magician still wanted me to join him. Seeing that I wasn't budging, he tried a hopeful look. The kind a guy gets when he thinks he's going to get what he wants. "At least let me enjoy the pleasure of your company."

My aching legs agreed with the magician. Standing for another two and a half hours was not appealing, not after three hours of dancing. But I wasn't going to enter the cabin and sit down quietly, not without a witty comment or something to let Hisoka know I was sitting because I wanted to. Not because he asked, not because he wanted me in the room.

"Pleasurable…that's a new one," I mused, sinking into the wonderfully poofy and comfortable airship seat. Kami, my legs felt much better. Leaning back, I nestled further into the seat, partly to get more comfortable and partly to hide from Hisoka's stare.

Now that Hisoka was across from me, staring at me with an analytical gaze, I wanted to stand and go back to the cabin door threshold. Maybe even leave…No, I needed to keep an eye on him so he couldn't sneak up on me. But I was afraid if I stood, Hisoka might interpret that as me deciding to leave and bad things might happen. Like me dying or becoming severely crippled for life. Maybe I was so small that I could sink through the seat cracks and escape…

His staring was unnerving…

"You're damaged."

I blinked, surprised by his confidence in this statement. "Damaged?" I parroted, confused. I still didn't like the way he was looking at me.

Hisoka tilted his head to the side slightly, as if musing something. "You have potential…but your growth has been stunted. Someone damaged—no, broke you and you're gathering the pieces. Am I right?"

My surprise ran so deep that I couldn't stop my eyes from widening or stop the quiet, sharp inhale. It felt like Hisoka's statement had sent a lightning bolt through me to my core. H-How did he know?

"Seems I was right," the magician mused, leaning back in his seat as he soaked in my reaction. "Who did it? Your parents? Friends? A boyfriend? Your mentor? The Exam?"

Turning my head to the side to avert my attention, I watched Hisoka with my right eye. This time I was careful to school my expression to stay stony, impassive. Was I really so easy to read? Or did the magician have an uncanny ability to read people? My stomach churned agitatedly. Kami, my heart ached. Hisoka, that bastard, had reopened an old wound.

"Not you, ergo it's none of your business," I replied lightly. More than ever I wished I could vanish from this cabin—just disappear, teleport elsewhere. I'd been cautious about physical attacks, so cautious I forgot to consider psychological or emotional attacks.

Surely Hisoka could sense the underlying warning in my tone, but he brushed it aside. After all, what real harm could I do to him? "But I'm interested."

I mildly stuck my tongue out at him. "Learn to suffer from the suspense." After having my largest inner scar discovered, I wasn't eager to discuss it. If that red-haired bastard continued pushing, I couldn't whip him in a physical fight but he would get a taste of my temper and acerbic tongue.

Hisoka seemed to sense this from my aura. "There's no need to be nasty, Princess." The magician had enough sense to drop the painful subject, or at least, put it aside until he decided to broach it again.

"Hmph."

I crossed my arms and didn't take my eyes off him. Hisoka's unknown rationale for discovering my biggest emotional sore spot was confounding, to say the least. What had I done or said that suggested I was damaged? My mind only offered blanks. That scared me.

No wonder Hisoka was so frightening. His incredible ability to read people only served his equally monstrous manipulation. Handsome, powerful, arrogant, smart, and a manipulative bastard. How much worse could he be? And that was discounting the supposed insanity.

"No need to be an ass, Prince Charming," I mumbled dryly. Hopefully, Hisoka heard me. A glimpse from the corner of my eye told me the magician had. He was staring again, and now I liked his scrutiny even less. Bastard…

"You can ask me something if you want."

"Why are you such an ass?" My tone was poisonously sweet, deceptively cute.

Hisoka's eyebrows rose a little. "I have an ass, if that's what you mean." The pervert even pointed to it. "I'll let you feel it if you say please."

My eye twitched. I was too grumpy to be flustered by any explicit images my imagination could conjure. This guy…he was unassailable! No matter what I asked, that red-haired bastard would ward it off by playing dumb or purposely misinterpreting my question. If he wasn't so damn strong, I wouldn't have any qualms about ensuring the devious bastard couldn't breed. I guess I had to ask something less offensive…dammit.

"Why did you dye your hair red?"

He blinked, apparently surprised by the change of topic. "You don't like it?" Hisoka answered, running his fingers through his hanging hair. Most of it neatly fell back into place as if it had never been moved. The magician had totally evaded giving an answer to my question by answering with a question. Fine, I don't really give a damn why he changed his hair color but he wasn't staring at me creepily anymore.

"No, ginger looks good on you," I replied honestly albeit grudgingly, scratching and absently tugging the loose bandage wrapped around my neck. "Will your next change of outfit include green hair and a purple suit?"

The question elicited a genuine chuckle from Hisoka, and an amused smile to match. I guessed the chuckle was genuine because it sounded nothing like his mocking chortles or perverted giggles. Really, what self-respecting man giggles?

"I prefer my own style," the red-head grinned, still amused. "The Joker is not a magician either." In other words, that was a definite no for the green hair and purple suit.

Silence lapsed between us. Not an uncomfortable one…but to me, it felt as though we were waiting for the other to continue the small talk. Surprisingly, for an infamous, powerful murderer, the magician wasn't bad company. Even if he did scare the hell out of me and was an asshole. I wasn't even that angry at him anymore, just very unnerved.

Hisoka rested his elbow on the armrest, then curled his fingers before resting his jaw on them as he stared at me. "You haven't stopped using Gyo since you saw me three hours ago." So it was only around seven o'clock? It felt…much later than seven. Had time had been dragging its feet through the mud to torment me?

My lips curled into a tiny smirk. "You noticed."

His jaw still resting on his fist, Hisoka tilted his head slightly. "You really don't trust me at all, do you, Princess?" He lifted both legs, causing me to tense again, but he only propped them up on the seat to my left, crossing his long legs at the ankles.

Slowly, I uncoiled my muscles. With his legs up, the magician wasn't in a position to attack me. Was he making himself somewhat vulnerable so I wouldn't twitch every time he moved? It didn't matter what position his body was in, I wasn't going to take my eyes off him if I could help it. Not for a heartbeat.

"Not at all, Prince Charming," I said evenly. "Not at all."

Hisoka was definitely saner than most people. And smarter.

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"I guess this is goodbye," I mused aloud. Hisoka and I stood just outside the Hein Airport under the cement overhang, staring at the chaotic waxing and waning of traffic. Light rain drizzled on the cars, buses, and airport shuttle buses. My sweaty palms held my weapons briefcase, and my pink kiddie backpack straps dug into my shoulders. Sitting approximately three feet away from Hisoka was mostly tolerable, but standing practically side-by-side? It was giving me the chills, maybe an ulcer on the side.

Where the hell was a cab when you needed one?

The magician looked down at me nonchalantly, his hands in his pant pockets. "I guess. Later, Princess Kohana." He casually headed toward a shuttle bus that had just pulled up, leaving me to stare at his retreating back. Even if I had a thousand years to study him, I don't think I would ever figure out Hisoka. He was as mysterious and aloof as entities come. Quite the puzzle.

"Princess?" I repeated quietly to myself. Why was he calling me a princess?

Because he thought girls liked being referred to or treated like royalty? Despite my efforts to ignore his nickname for me, the way he called me 'princess' sent a little thrill through me. The magician wasn't sarcastic or patronizing when he said 'princess'; he sounded serious, sincere even…but then again, Hisoka was supposed to be a damn good liar and manipulator. If he didn't sound sincere, his act wouldn't be nearly as convincing.

The shuttle bus had emptied and new arrivals were now boarding the bus. Hisoka glanced over his shoulder, smiling when he noticed me staring. Then he half-turned toward me, lifted his arm and… blew me a kiss!

Unimpressed, I grabbed the air to 'catch' his kiss and tossed it over my shoulder, rolling my eyes. The only time Hisoka would ever kiss me would be in his dreams and my nightmares. Well…I wouldn't mind so much if in the dream, he kissed me and didn't strangle me afterward.

Not that I had any affinity for the red-haired devil.

I just have a slight weakness for handsome men.

With my twelve-year-old body, it's not like I stood a chance dating anyone my real age. Not unless that person was a pedophile or didn't mind being labeled a cradle robber. Even if I looked twenty-ish, as a Blacklist Hunter, I couldn't bear to establish a romantic relationship with a guy and risk putting him in constant peril. On the other hand, if said guy could handle himself in battle and against assassination attempts and knew Nen, then I might be persuaded to give the relationship a go…

I shook my head clear of any romantic notions. You're a Blacklist Hunter, Miko, not an ordinary girl who can have a boyfriend and a family. You faked your own death to protect your family from being targeted. Any romantic relationships you get tangled into can only end in disaster, tragedy, or death for you or your partner. Now stop thinking with your ovaries and look for a damn cab! You're not in the clear yet. Your target is still in the vicinity, probably watching you, analyzing your reaction.

Analyzing…

I needed to do some analyzing too. If I ever ran into that agitating magician ever again, I wanted to be more prepared. But first, I needed a place to stay and preferably not alone with Hisoka in the vicinity. I needed to stay with someone I could place a decent amount of trust in…Someone who had connections, who could defend his or herself with Nen…someone like Tomoyo.

The beautician and clothes designer who was connected to Tsukasa's loose organization of Blacklist Hunters lived in the next metropolis over—Souhi. Tomoyo, beautician extraordinaire, would be more than happy to fuss over me. She always pleaded with me to be a model for some of her photo shoots because I was "just that irresistibly adorable". Plus, Tomoyo had plenty of connections. She could help me scrounge up information about Hisoka, information I might be hard-pressed to find on my own.

Taking my cell phone from my pocket, I dialed her number and held the phone up to my ear. "Maybe this is your big chance to play doll with me, T," I muttered as I listened to the rings. One…tw—

"Hello?"

"Hello yourself, T," I grinned when I heard her clueless voice. My number always came up on caller ID as blocked or restricted, thanks to the cell phone company.

Tomoyo squealed like a fan girl.

Perhaps this was a faux pas…

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Since I was involved in the assassination business, I had always assumed another assassin or Blacklist Hunter would kill me. Or my target would somehow do me in. Guns, swords, daggers, poison, traps, bodyguards, Nen…Hisoka was the most recent addition to this list of likely ways I would perish. Is it wrong to assume you'll die a violent death if your work environment is violent?

I never thought I would die in the arms of my beautician, suffocated by her boobs.

"T-Tom…oyo-cha…an," I wheezed, thankful my Nen was protecting me. If I were a normal person, my ribs would have broken by now and pierced my lungs. My beautician forgot her strength when she got fan girl-ishly excited. Like when she saw me.

"Whoopsies!" She released me, and I swayed on my feet, sucking in air. "I would apologize but you're probably used to my hugs by now. I can't help myself! You're too damn cute for your own good, Miko-chan!"

Now that I thought about it, it was probably thanks to Tomoyo's rib-crushing hugs that I was able to fight Higuchi when I was oxygen-deprived. Go figure.

"So what do you need? Tsukasa didn't call so I assume he didn't send you." The blonde-haired beautician had a habit of thinking out loud. She wasn't dumb per say, but she claimed she could 'think better' if she spoke her thoughts aloud. "I doubt this is a social call either. You're pretty antisocial…So what's up?"

Conscious of her inquisitive violet eyes on me, I 'fessed up. "I…I need some information on a target and" –I prepared for another hug—"I need a place to stay."

Kami, she looked like this hobo I saw shooting up drugs—the same rapid-gradual, excited expression. She must be in throes of ecstasy right now. "This is a dream come true!" the giddy beautician squealed, hopping up and down. Her chest jiggled correspondingly. "Kami, I have so many ideas that I don't know which I should try first! Kyaaaa!"

I gulped, waiting for her to hug the air out of me again.

Tomoyo's violet eyes glinted as her glee transformed into something more sadistic. "Even when you beg me to stop, even when you can't stay conscious any longer, you will obey my every whim! Your beautiful photographs will take over the fashion world! You will be famous!" She cackled evilly. Her cackling wasn't nearly as frightening as Hisoka's soft, eerie chuckles.

"Tomoyo-chan, I'm a Blacklist Hunter, an assassin!" I grabbed her shoulders, trying to shake her from her megalomania. "I'm not supposed to be famous or have millions of pictures of me available! And even if I do take the fashion world by storm, I want to be famous for my killing skills, not my killer looks!"

Tomoyo smirked. "Do you want a place to stay or not?"

"…Damnit."

"That's what I thought."

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Tomoyo pouted petulantly, crossing her arms. "At least try to look happy, Miko-chan!" Tsukasa, Hisoka, even Illumi would probably laugh their asses off if they could see me now. I should have convinced Tomoyo never to release the pictures to magazine companies to pitch her own products. If…No, when these images hit the general public, Tsukasa and Hisoka would laugh their asses off.

I grimaced. "I'm wearing pink! And lace! And frills! And a tiara! Who would be happy in this death trap?" It severely hampered my mobility, not to mention the outfit wasn't even practical!

This dress design probably came straight out of a manga or anime that Tomoyo had read. It was form-fitting at the top and flared out after the hips. The top of the dress resembled a pink tank top with lacey frills around my bosom. The skirt of the dress appeared to have layers, like the first layer stopped mid-thigh length, then a second layer continued down to my knees, and so on. Each skirt layer was trimmed with frills. To top it off, Tomoyo added a silver tiara and pink elbow-high gloves. The details were ridiculously meticulous.

Did I forget to mention that sakura petals were floating down from above me?

Kami, why have you forsaken me?

"Do you really want help or are you screwing with me?" Tomoyo scowled. The beautician was no Hisoka but she was intimidating in her own respect. "I'm taking twenty-five pictures first to ensure that you're serious, Miko-chan. You're not pulling another fast one on me like last time!"

She was still mad about that, huh? Not my fault she's so gullible.

"Didn't you ever want to dress up when you were a little girl?" Tomoyo asked, irritable.

"Not really…"

Honestly, my mom hadn't encouraged girly behavior. In all the memories I have of her, we had mother-daughter time or did girly things together because she was always 'busy', and my older brother always sneered at me when I acted like a girl. So I didn't do girly things to earn my brother's approval.

Tomoyo frowned. "That's so…sad. I've never met a girl who didn't want to be a princess when she was younger. Was it because of your mother or step-mother?"

Princess.

Immediately, Hisoka's drawling, annoying voice came to mind. "No need to be nasty, Princess." It was creepy how clearly I could hear his voice in my head. I blamed the perverted magician. If he wasn't so damn scary, I wouldn't have been on high alert mode and therefore, my memories wouldn't have been so emotionally charged.

FLASH!

I stared wide-eyed in the direction the flash had come from, blinded by white and black blobs obscuring my vision. My lips parted slightly, and another bright camera flash followed up the first. How the hell did celebrities put up with this?

Tomoyo's exuberant voice reached my straining ears. "Only twenty-three more to go!"

F my life.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

The blonde-haired beautician-slash-clothes designer gasped loudly when I told her the name of my target and explained the contract. Her violet eyes were the size of dinner plates. She actually took a few steps backwards and dropped the brush in her hands. It would have been funny if I could have laughed and said, "Just kidding! Ha ha, I really got you!" Tomoyo seriously looked spooked.

"Didn't you swear you would never—"

I sighed. "Yeah."

"So how…?" Tomoyo frowned, perplexed. She leaned over and picked up the brush from the floor before continuing to run it through my wig.

"A blonde pansy tricked me," I grumbled, not at all pleased about the reminder. I seriously needed to set aside some time to consider how to search and destroy Blondie. But my first priority after researching Hisoka was reviewing the disks I'd downloaded from the deceased Higuchi Kimura's computers. The sooner I killed the second triumvirate member, the sooner I'd be freed of this damn contract. "Ow."

"Whoopsies. Sorry." Tomoyo ran the brush through my hair more carefully, gently untangling a knot. "Wow…that really blows. And you said Tsukasa-sama trapped you in it?"

"Yeah…"

"So you're going to assassinate Hisoka-san?"

"No."

Tomoyo frowned again, thrown off my answer. "No? Isn't that the point of the contr—ooh! You're going to assassinate the commissioner. Want me to ask around for information about him or her? Do you have anything I can go off of?" Setting down the brush, she reached for a green bow and pinned it in my brushed, long black wig.

"Not yet," I admitted, "but I will inform you when I do. I still want to learn as much as I can about Hisoka. My intuition tells me I haven't seen the last of him." My reflection self looked nothing like me—silky black hair, wide blue eyes, and kick ass clothes. She looked…surreal. Like a modern fairy.

Would I ever escape the words 'cute' or 'pixie'?

Tomoyo patted the top of my head, pitying my plight. "May I assist the mortician when he or she dresses you? If you die, that is."

My eye twitched. "I don't think I'd have a say in the matter, but thanks for your vote of confidence." Irritably batting her head away from my head, I moodily stalked toward the door of Tomoyo's penthouse.

Behind me, I heard Tomoyo say in an exasperated voice, "I was joking, Miko-chan! Joking! As in, not being serious!" Despite her plea for me to not take her comment so seriously, I wondered if the beautician really was pulling my leg. There's a reason the saying 'many a true word is spoken in jest' exists.

Jest…Jester. Hisoka.

Would the flame-haired Joker be my executioner?

Shutting the penthouse door with a light kick, I darted down the hallway and ducked into the elevator to avoid Tomoyo. She would try to apologize for the poor joke. Didn't anyone believe I might survive a fight against Hisoka?

Well…I don't blame them for not believing I could.

Hell, I don't even believe I could.

The elevator started its slow descent to the lobby, and I leaned against its cool metal walls, my arms crossed, and I dispassionately ignored Tomoyo's calls. My bottom lip trembled, but no other sign betrayed by internal turmoil. My situation as hopeless.

How could I defeat a superhuman magician?

How do you vanquish someone larger than life?

F my life...

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Disclaimer: don't own Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (owned by CLAMP if you wanted to know), or HunterxHunter quotes (directly from the anime), or the title Refined Villain (taken from an anime called Fairy and Earl or Hakushaku to Yousei), and I can thank Hannibal Lector for inspiring the chapter opening. I also don't own any songs mentioned in this chapter. Did anyone pick up on the Batman reference?

Yakuza: a Japanese gangster.

Hein: Scarlet Flame

Souhi: Blue Ice

Happy New Year! Say hello to 2011!