Killua, now a proud eleven-year-old, strolled through the doors of the Zoldyeck mansion, a skateboard that he had won in a bet at Heaven's Arena tucked under his arm. He cast his eyes around the familiar surroundings of his childhood.

It all seemed so cold now. And smaller, definitely smaller. And there was the absence of warm arms carrying him about in a little bubble of joy and safety…

"Is everything all right, Master Killua?"

Killua shook his head. He'd buried those memories and their implications a very long time ago.

"Yes, I'm fine." He turned and gave a grin to the servant who had accompanied him from Heaven's Arena home. "You said that my parents wanted to see me?"

"Yes Master Killua. I believe they want to speak to you about your new training regiment, now that you have proven yourself in Heaven's Arena."

"All right. I'll drop in right now."

"Very good, Master Killua."

Killua rolled his eyes at the servant's formality. Years away from his princely life had hardened him against the status symbols such as being called "Master." Acting like a king in the real world didn't get you far.

He dropped his skateboard on the ground and skated away, towards the wing where he remembered his father to reside.

--------------------------

Illumi was now twenty-one years old. Years of being his mother's secret agent had been taking their toll on him. His eyes were now more than a bit dull, and bored. His expression gave nothing away, not even a hint that he was even alive.

His mother told him what to do and he obeyed. His father sometimes gave him orders as well, but as the years went on these orders became more and more rare. Illumi suspected that his father knew the deal that he had with his mother. He realized that his father probably resented this, and that he had probably lost some of his father's respect, and perhaps even a bit of his love.

But that didn't matter much. At the end of the day, Illumi was alive and that was all that really mattered. And really, how much did that even matter?

He did, however, find some sort of pleasure in watching the grounds. Whenever he got the chance he would find a window and just stare out upon the vast expanse of the lands that the Zoldyecks owned. He in particular found himself staring at the entrance to the grounds. Perhaps there was some meaning to this, but Illumi never allowed himself to think much about it.

He was staring out a window when he heard the unfamiliar sound of wheels skidding across the marble floor. He turned and to his surprise he saw Killua skating down the hall towards him.

Killua stopped the skateboard and flipped it up into his arms. He stared at his elder brother, unconsciously comparing him to the memories that he kept carefully hidden. His brother was colder now. And he looked tired.

Illumi stared at his younger brother; memories that he had tried to destroy flooding his mind. Killua was growing up. He was going to become a great assassin some day. Perhaps the greatest of them all.

I'm so proud of you, Killua.

You didn't come.

I'm so sorry.

I'm done with you.

Killua broke off his gaze and skated away. He didn't look back.

Illumi turned and watched his brother fade away. Something resembling a tear tried to form in his eyes, but he of course didn't let it.

"I missed you," he whispered. Killua didn't hear.

Illumi didn't want him to.