Book 2: Malum
Chapter 21: The Devil Himself
"How do you feel?" He speaks in flowing French.
"I'm always tired." She responds, though her accent is more detectable than Kuroro's is.
"As am I. I'm glad we have something in common."
"Ah-" She says abruptly. "Isn't it common courtesy to buy a girl dinner before trying to take advantage of her?" She pushes the wine away.
"I wasn't aware you could be intoxicated so quickly."
"Well, aren't we sassy. I never said that, pass the alcohol."
"Isn't it common courtesy to ask a man his name before asking him to do something for you?"
She eyes him slyly from the side. "I like you," she says coyly, "you're just my type."
The room is chilly and dimly lit, but overly extravagant. The mattress seems to sink beneath them like it doesn't even belong there, the way he definitely doesn't belong here. Lord Dimitrova had so graciously provided them with a room, which Kuroro thanked him silently for.
The implications the nobleman had made were raunchy, and tasteless at best, and if only he knew why Kuroro had been so willing to spend the night with Lady Liquorice -again, a very tasteless name- Dimitrova wouldn't have been so eager to shove them into the room together.
Slowly she downs the wine, sitting on the bed. "So. What is your name?"
Kuroro takes off his heavy jacket and sits down next to her. "If I told you, you'd go running."
"Mm? You lack so much faith in me."
"I've only just met you sweetheart."
"You must read Hemingway."
"I do."
"You speak like him. Don't say that anymore though."
"Why not?"
"It sounds wrong on your tongue. Like you're not used to saying it."
"What's your name?"
"The lady asked first, and she shall receive."
"You must stay."
"I won't go."
"My name you said?"
"Yes."
"Luciano." The Troupe Leader breathes. "But I can't tell you my last name. So tell me yours."
"Lelia." She says, but she accents the second syllable too hard, too forcefully, and Kuroro knows she is lying; he does not blame her. He has not told her his real name either, though it is a spin-off of his surname. Lelia is a distinctly European name, and she speaks it in the tones of the Middle East.
"Well Lelia." He takes the wine glass from her hand and takes a sip from it. After nibbling on bourbon, the wine is sweet to his tongue. "You look dashing in red."
"It's my favorite color."
There is no emotion, no passion in the room. Here is a battle of wits, two geniuses and empty people competing to see who will succumb to their human desire first.
He puts the glass on the bedside drawer after downing the rest of it.
"I'm offended." She looks away from him.
"And why is that?"
The two bodies shift sensually, electrifying contact.
"It's like you're trying to make sure you're not entirely conscious for our little… our little adventure."
"You lack so much faith in me." But with a start, he realizes he has been doing just that, trying to get so drunk out of his mind he cannot feel a thing. He does not know how to take it that a stranger knows him better than he knows himself.
"You're awfully good at spitting words back."
"I'm not good at much else, unfortunately."
"Now, I'm sure that's not true."
They somehow find themselves in the middle of the bed, as opposed to edge, where they had been seated five minutes ago. Lelia's hands begin to unbutton Kuroro's shirt. "Lord Dimitrova told me something." She seems to pout.
"How coincidental. He told me something as well."
"A vixen man," she smiles as she slips the shirt down his shoulders, "but he says you miss someone."
"He must be mistaken." Kuroro comments.
"I think he rather hit the nail on the head with that one."
"Mm? Any Evidence for your conjecture?"
"Your pupils stay small; you don't hesitate to touch, but your face is kept away from mine, nor do you expose your neck, a common characteristic of human attraction; and your hands are cold."
"Cold, scientific analysis I see. Well done. However, what do my hands have anything to do with this?"
"You have no one to keep them warm, Mr. Lucifer."
Kuroro sits up and chuckles. "I was naive to think you wouldn't know me."
"Who doesn't know the infamous Phantom Troupe Leader, feared and hailed as-"
"No sycophantish talk, please, it nauseates me."
"You hate yourself." She says this matter-of-factly, and a matter of fact it is, for Kuroro has never hated anyone so much as himself in the entire course of his life.
"I used to love someone."
"Come." She pulls him by the forearm and he obliges. "What did Dimitrova tell you about me?"
"He says you're an information broker." Kuroro pushes her down onto the mattress and feels the alcohol begin to cloud his thoughts.
"I should have known a man like you would be after information."
"Are you disappointed?" He asks as he holds himself over her.
"Not at all; it's what I'm used to."
He takes a moment to pause, to sort of look her over and unconsciously, subconsciously compare her to another woman he used to know.
"Lelia," he tests, and with a smirk, realizes that the taste is all wrong. "Lelia."
"Chrollo," she answers back, amused, eyes twinkling with all of the information Kuroro doesn't have. He absentmindedly wonders what the hell he has against his own name; Chrollo is his name in fact, but he prefers the stocky version of it.
"What would you like to know, Leader?"
He flinches inwardly but refuses to bat an eye. The woman is obviously someone who hails from the Middle East. She does look rather appealing in the bright red she has clad herself in, if overly flaunting. But it had been a party, and Peter had been the one who had thrown it; ostentatiousness was not out of the norm.
Her skin is dark but rich, and it strikes prettily against her bright eyes; she is of mixed descent, apparently.
"Tell me about a certain sword."
"Mm, you've got to be a bit more specific than that, I'm afraid. Does it have a name? An infamous owner?"
"An acinaces, sold at the world's largest auction four years ago."
Lelia's eyes flutter shut in thought; Kuroro pushes her down onto the bed.
"I seem to recall…" She murmurs as she begins to take her outerwear off. "You ought to do something to help jog my memory."
"Aren't you scared of me?" Kuroro asks.
"Yes, I am." But she smiles in such a sly way Kuroro has no idea if she's telling the truth or not. The woman does not seem to know Nen, but it can never hurt to be cautious. "Terrified really. But I'm also incredibly interested."
He shifts. She shifts.
"Mm, yes, Anat's Acinaces. Rumored to leave wounds that do not heal. Rather unwieldy, I've heard." Lelia pretends she does not feel the man stiffen by a fraction.
"Do you know who has it?"
"Are you testing me, Chrollo Lucifer?"
"I am, Lady Liquorice."
"Hmph. Your half-brother Marzio Marchesi has it in his possession."
"I must admit, you've impressed me."
A flurry of movement.
"Should I be flattered?"
"No need."
"Shall we play a game?"
"I do-" A break. "-enjoy games."
"If your mastery of chess has anything to say for it, I'm sure you do." She laughs. "Now… Which is the lie? One, the Boar of the Hunter Association's Zodiac has been sighted with a female partner." Her inhale hitches. "Two, Dimitrova warned me about your tendencies in bed. Three, your half-brother has taken a peculiar interest in the Boar's companion. Four, one of your Troupe members will betray you in the coming future. And five…" She eyes him coyly from beneath his countenance. "I love you."
Kuroro remains quiet for a solid fifteen seconds; to him, the lie itself is apparent, the lattermost comment, of course, but to think… Well, at least she made it easy for him.
"Now, how could you possibly know whether a Spider will turn their back on me?"
"I am an information broker Chrollo, where do you think I get my information?"
He thinks, stilling himself. Slowly Kuroro runs his fingers through her long brunette hair; it is too long, and though it is softer than anything he has touched in the last half-decade, it does not satisfy him. "You are a fortune teller." He realizes.
"Not quite."
"A clairvoyant, perhaps?"
Laughter sparkles in her eyes again. "Very well done."
"A nen ability? But I sense no palpable aura from you."
"Part of my charm." She flaunts.
"Who will it be?" Kuroro asks. "That betrays me?"
"Convince me to tell you. In the meantime, is there not another truth that shocks you?"
"Marzio…" Kuroro thinks. "Why is he looking at the girl?"
"Mr. Marchesi has his doubts about her identity."
A wave of pure exasperation rolls over him. "After I had told him so fervently to drop the subject?"
"He never was the type to listen."
"And you would know how?"
"Ha.." She breathes, fingernails clawing into his shoulders. "I believe we went over that small piece of information." Air comes harder to both of them now as they move together.
"Not in particular depth."
"There is the fact that Marchessi, your half-brother, is my partner in underground dealings."
"Oh?" He piques up. "And what does Lady Liquorice deal in?"
"Opium." She deadpans, as her grip tightens. "Black market trade when necessary. And body parts."
"You're something else, aren't you."
A gasp. A hand flails out to claw at the bedsheets.
"Breathe, my lady." He closes his eyes, smirk audible in his voice as he brings himself to bury his face in the junction between her shoulder and her neck.
"You are the Devil manifested in a human body." She too, sneers as she composes herself. "Marzio Marchessi is a business partner of mine. Make no mistake however, his allegiance lies only with the Mafia. He wishes to regain control of that biological weapon that was lost four years ago…"
"Tch." Kuroro narrows his eyes. He should have seen that one coming.
"Still, you are caught in the eye of a very curious storm."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You will never understand." She sits up, brushing her hair behind an ear. "Don't try to. Simply accept."
"Please." He asks, though the word tastes like bile in his throat; he is unused to lowering himself to others, but when it comes to information, the game is entirely different. Simple torture had always been tacky and simply tasteless, more Feitan's playing field than anything else. Kuroro enjoyed games, mostly of wit, and sometimes to amuse himself.
He would be lying if he was to say this current predicament was not a part of them.
"You certainly know how to utilize your resources, Chrollo Lucifer. Very well; you have seen the Boar's companion once before?"
"I have." He admits, bringing the sheets around to cover his partner's shoulders. "For a grand total of perhaps two minutes."
"So you must know then."
He ponders this for a moment. What could this woman possibly expect him to have gleaned in such a brief amount of time?
"She was shrouded in darkness, was she not?"
"But aren't we all." It is a statement, not a question.
"Let me clarify. She is drowning in despair."
"I sensed deep anxiety."
"Why was that? Think for a moment, Mr. Lucifer; use that enormous intellect of yours."
"There are too many factors."
"When Marchessi asks me to read her, I understand that she feels as if she is constantly being hunted."
"By what?"
"By whom," she corrects him. "By whom, I ask you."
"By my half-brother, of course."
"Incorrect." She seems disappointed. "Someone is monopolizing her, someone I can't see clearly. I have yet to meet him."
"So she reports to someone. Perhaps an employer?"
"And employer would not incite such feelings of absolute revulsion from their subordinate. It is someone dangerous."
Kuroro blinks as he feels the words slam into him;
"There's someone following me."
Kuroro blinks and, against his better judgement, pours himself another glass though he had sworn he would not five minutes ago. "Following you." He repeats back in Italian. "So where's the problem?"
"I don't know who it is."
"Try harder." The Phantom Troupe head suggests nonchalantly.
"Chrollo," Mazrio gives up on the entire proper posture facade and collapses back into the poofy chair behind him. "It's someone dangerous."
"And you're telling me this because…"
"Because he's dangerous."
"I'm not sending my Spiders after a certain man for you because you don't want to go to the trouble of facing him." The reply is stone-set.
"Heaven forbid," he snorts.
Silence.
It hits Kuroro like a pile of bricks and suddenly he has the vague notion this one bottle that Marzio has offered won't be nearly enough to help him out the ways he wants to be helped out.
"Your… intuition?" Kuroro ventures.
"It probably has something to do you with you, I'm guessing."
"Something to do with me." The wine tastes like shit, but it tastes like high-quality shit, so Kuroro doesn't complain. "Explain more."
Marzio throws his hands up in utter defeat and then runs them through his green-ish hair in frustration. "Beats me. He probably wants something to do with Maman."
The identifier brings back unwanted memories so Kuroro closes his eyes, not the type to display his irritation as openly as his friend. "It's a he?"
"Most definitely a he."
"This doesn't concern me-" He starts, but Marzio cuts him off.
"Yes it does." He's too serious all of a sudden, and the way he can quickly switch demeanors strikes Kuroro as extremely sly, if unprofessional. "It does."
"If it doesn't concern the Spiders, it doesn't concern me."
"Why are you even heading that ragtag group of bandits, Chrollo?" He seems to whine, rolling his eyes. "Come join me."
"And kowtow to some idiotic Boss who…" Kuroro is so disgusted by the idea that he trails off, at a loss for words.
"It's not that bad. Besides, what's the difference between the Mafia boss and you?"
"Intelligence, for one." Kuroro is actually deeply offended. "Power, for another. And aspirations."
"What aspirations? You're just going around stealing things."
"And you're just going around smoking cigars and playing rush-n-roulette in dirty bars." The leader murmurs back. "Anyways, Maman is dead, and there's no reason for anyone to be coming after you about her."
…
That had been an interesting conversation to say the least, and thanks to Marzio's recent meddling, some unneeded and rather painful memories had been dredged up. Marzio had always been like that though, difficult in letting things go, adamant in never letting them die as they should.
"You should listen to your instincts." The woman tells him, as if immediately understanding his train of thought. "They've gotten you this far."
He feels the incoming headaches that he will inevitably be forced to endure, as he so often had to do when in the presence of Marzio.
A certain stroke of felicitous luck was what she meant, but he understood her point nonetheless.
"Well, Luciano." She smirks, now that their little game had been played out to the fullest. "Let me tell you one more interesting bit of information before we part ways."
"I'm all ears."
"The world's largest auction in September in Yorkshin City." She says. "Your life will be changed there."
"As it was four years ago; Fate has me dancing in the palm of her hand." He nearly snorts.
"As she has with all of us, excepting perhaps a few individuals such as myself." She gets up and makes her way toward the shower. "It was nice meeting your acquaintance. I hope to do business with you in the future sometime again."
"Myself as well, Lady Liquorice."
"Goodness that was so tiring." Kurapika runs his fingers through his hair.
"Sure was." Leorio agrees. "Man, I'm sore all over."
"At least we've built muscle mass." The blonde replies. "Useful for later endeavors, of course."
"Mou, but Rita, you seemed very calm throughout that entire ordeal."
She clears her throat and takes a short drag from her cigarette. In order to spare their lungs, she walks a ways in behind of the trio. "Calm?"
"Didn't seem like you were struggling at all. The vest, the doors, or cups." The suited man babbles on.
She almost chuckles. "Call it my age, I guess."
After the gatekeeper had invited the four into his little cubicle where he stood watch everyday, as his job demanded him to, he had extended a peculiar offer: to stay awhile and train to open the testing gate, so they would not be hurt by Mike, the ridiculously large monster that lay in wait for them beyond the regular wooden double doors.
They took him up on it without a second thought of course, though Gon had not really enjoyed the idea of being tested, simply to see his best friend. But, it had been the quickest, and really, only way to go.
And so they had gone and done it, for a total of six days, if she remembered correctly, lugging things around, heavy things. For goodness sake, a simple teacup was twenty kilograms.
Rita had told herself she would suppress her nen as much as she could so she could partake in the rote muscle training, but her nen was inherent to her as she used it every day, so she found herself unconsciously using it quite often to lighten the load on her body.
"You're only three or some years older than me!" Leorio protests.
"Think of it what you will. Maybe just more experience." She shrugs. "In the end though, you three didn't even need me to open the testing gate."
"It was still helpful having you around!" Gon pipes up, making an effort to help her feel included.
She waves the effort away. "It's fine Gon. In the end, your arm is healed and you guys are totally fine without me. Just think of me as back-up. Moral support maybe." She scoffs at the idea; moral support.
Upon having opened the testing gate and crossing the first hurdle, the four are heading up the mountain path. Rita knows more obstacles most definitely await them, and that they will only increase in difficulty, so the idea of her being back-up does not seem to be such a terrible idea.
They walk and talk for several more hours, Leorio complaining of muscle cramps, Kurapika serenely smiling upon the scene (like the mother hen he secretly is), Gon blabbing here and there, and Rita silently puffing on her cancer stick.
Gon is the first to notice and stops dead in his tracks when he sees an impediment on their path to Killua. Kurapika follows, and then Leorio and Rita.
The four see a small girl, perhaps Kurapika's height, well-dressed and bearing a staff with a yellow orb at the end of it. She opens her eyes and begins to speak: "Leave." She says in a commandeering tone of voice. "You're trespassing on private property."
No mercy in that voice, Rita thinks to herself.
"I cannot allow you to pass without permission."
"We called ahead!" Gon protests, brows furrowing into a frustrated frown.
"You have not received permission from the butlers."
"We tried but they wouldn't put Killua on the phone!" The green-clad youngster answers. "What do we need to do to get permission?"
The girl's facial expression is free from any concern, or really, any emotion of any kind. She clashes with the environment around her harshly, Rita analyzes; she is dark-skinned, dressed in typical butler attire in what seems to be the middle of the dense forest with only one path through it.
"Well, I wouldn't know. No one has ever received permission."
This seems to piss Gon off greatly. "Then we'll have to trespass!" He shouts indignantly.
"I suppose you will. However, this is where I draw the line." Using her staff, she draws a deep line into the first before her. "If you cross this line, I'll have to remove you by force."
Kurapika and Leorio brace to fight, but Gon holds up one hand, and it shocks Rita, how easily, how quickly the two men let go of their fighting poses. The amount of trust between them is unreal, or really, unfathomable to Rita. After the three had been together for only several days throughout the course of the Hunter Exam, this powerful of a bond had formed.
Gon braces himself and walks toward the line the girl had drawn in the dirt. Unsurprisingly, she strikes him, hard, with her staff and sends him flying.
Rita wonders if the girl is using nen discreetly or if she simply has enough muscle to send an entire person soaring with one strike of her stick. As far as she can tell, there is no palpable nen coming from the little butler.
Gon gets up again and makes his way toward the line. He forcefully tells Kurapika and Leorio not to interfere. A repeat of the previous result happens.
Rita sighs, and sits down behind Kurapika to take a breather. She is aware this will take awhile.
And take a while it does; they are there until the sun begins to dye the blue sky a pretty purple, with the repetitive whack-ing noise coming every fifteen seconds or so. Rita isn't sure why Kurapika and Leorio feel so obligated to watch the entire scene when it's obvious it pains them greatly. They've gone stone cold, still as rocks, bodies rigid as they force themselves to take in the scene.
It is perhaps 7:30 in the afternoon when Rita feels the dip in determination. Pragmatically, Rita knows she can't blame the girl; to the eye, she seems only thirteen, fourteen, close to Gon's or Killua's age, and work for the Zoldycks or not, her humanity has not yet been beaten out of her.
When the four had first come face to face with her, the orangette had been genuinely concerned. Ten minutes of careful observation had blown that concern away with the wind, however; the girl wasn't pursuing, she was holding her ground, and that alone was enough to signify she really had no intention of hurting them unless they compelled her too. A lack of sheer ruthlessness, really, which worked to their advantage.
"Stop it." Comes the whisper. "Stay away!" More strongly.
Gon doesn't listen of course. Another whack. This time Gon doesn't fall, but skids backward on his feet.
A weaker strike.
"What are you doing?" She finally breaks. "Why don't you stop him? Aren't you his friends-"
The tiny butler recoils after seeing the looks on Leorio and Kurapika's faces, which Rita is certain are enough to freeze anyone's blood over for a few seconds.
"What's the problem?" Gon slurs, face too swollen now to talk properly. "I'm just here to see Killua! Why do I have to do this?!"
With his bare fist, Gon smashes through the pillar right next to the girl. She takes three steps back, terror written on her face.
"Hey. I crossed the line." He seems to find small satisfaction in this. "Aren't you supposed to hit me?"
The only sound in the air for several tense seconds is the sound of Gon's heavy, labored breathing, perhaps a product of all of his pent-up rage and frustration. "You're different from Mike." He speaks softly now. "You may try to hide your feelings, but you have a heart. When I mentioned Killua, your eyes softened for just a moment."
This seems to physically hurt the butler, and she clenches her staff tightly. "Please," she lowers her head, as if in shame. "Help Killua-sama-"
Kurapika flinches and Leorio actually falls to the ground as an enormous wave of energy is sent out from the general direction of the little girl.
"What the hell was that?!" Leorio demands, scrambling to get back onto his feet. He opens his mouth to shout again, but there is another wave of intense energy.
A third and final, less intense shockwave ripples through the air, and Rita curses harshly. The dark-skinned butler hits the ground hard.
"Really," the incredibly irritated voice comes from the thicket of trees to the four's left, "she made it sounds like we were being mean to Kil. A worthless apprentice," the disgust rolls freely off the tongue, "has the nerve to insult us."
"There!" Kurapika points, and Rita has to hold in her scoff at the ridiculous outfit the robotic looking woman is wearing.
Where's that dress from, the Victorian Age?
"You must be Gon." She smiles in a disgusting way. "I heard about you from Illumi. Killua knows you're here." This catches Gon's attention. "I have a message for you from Kil: 'Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it. But I can't see you right now. Sorry.'" She finishes.
Well that's total and utter bullshit.
"And you."
Rita perks up. "Yes, me." She smiles.
"I've seen you before."
"Oh, I get that quite often. I think I had a look-alike who screwed around a lot around four years back." The sarcasm in Rita's voice is cut-throat. "I'm sorry to say I can't say the same."
"You've gotten stronger."
"Who are you, lady?" The orangette pulls back her hood and stares the woman down. "Are you starting something?"
Rita's electric glare startles the very young little figure beside the woman, who, for some reason, Rita suspects is not a girl, though he is dressed like one.
"Wouldn't dream of it." The woman turns around. "Ah!" She shrieks suddenly, the red dot that shows on top of her goggle-like objects over her eyes, that they suppose, serves as a seeing eye, widens for a brief moment. "Father, what are you doing! Don't do anything rash!" Her voice is so shrill, it pierces through the air. "He's only just come back!"
Leorio leans over to the fallen apprentice butler, who has a severe concussion right above her temple, and begins to examine it.
"Ah, why must Father be this way?" Panic laces her voice." The woman regains her composure strangely quickly. "Something has come up. So I bid you farewell."
"Please wait." Gon calls out.
She stops.
"We'll be staying in town for awhile. Please tell Killua."
She contemplates this for a bit. "Very well; I will. Kalluto. We're leaving." And then she briskly walks off. Said Kalluto stares at them for perhaps ten seconds longer. Rita doesn't like the sight of those wide eyes.
"Who are you?" He asks.
"Killua's friends." Gon replies.
"Friends…" He whispers.
"Kalluto-chan! What are you doing?Get over here!"
Goddamn I feel bad for these kids, if that hag's their mother.
"Yes Mother." And Kalluto runs off.
"Ahh" Leorio scratches the back of his head. "I probably shouldn't say it, but these people creep me out. They were definitely lying about Killua's saying he couldn't see us. We should tail them."
"Yeah but then… She'll take the blame." Gon points to the unconscious apprentice.
Leorio curses again.
"I-" To their surprise, she stirs. "I shall take you to the butler's office."
"Don't move!" Rita exclaims and hops over to the girl. Tenderly, she places her arm under her head and helps her sit up. They lock eyes for several tense seconds, and Rita inwardly urges her to stay quiet.
"Thank you." She grimaces. "You're the one who negated her first two attacks weren't you?"
"You can hate me for that third one." Rita jokes.
"Eh?" Kurapika seems baffled.
It is Gon who explains. "Rita-san, you knew Killua's mother was there, right?"
"Hmm," the orangette says, "no. I sensed the little one, Kalluto, but not the mom."
"You stopped two of her attacks. That's what those shockwaves were."
"Ehh?" Leorio opens his mouth. "That was you?"
She waves the flattery away. "Leorio, you're a doctor right? Is there any internal bleeding?"
"She's fine, I examined her." Leorio responds. "A mild concussion, not as bad as it looks. Just gotta keep her upright."
"There is a phone that connects to the mansion." She holds her head as she speaks, as if it pains her greatly. If Zeno-sama is the one that answers…" She trails off, unsaid hope in her voice.
"Zeno-sama?" Gon questions.
"Killu-sama's grandfather."
"Well then, that really simplifies things. Shall we get going?" Rita slowly lets go of the apprentice. "Ah that reminds me. What's your name?"
The little butler looks at her for a moment before answering. "Canaria."
"How pretty," the orangette comments.
"Wait!" Gon exclaims, much to the grating irritation of the eldest. "We should wait awhile. Canaria might still be in shock."
"No," she stands up in response, dusting off her suit, "I am fine, if a bit embarrassed at my own ineptitude. Let's get going."
Canaria stands in front of them, Rita at the back due to her habit, and the original trio walk in a small crows as they all trek onward. The butlers office is not visible yet, so there must be a ways to go, so Rita mentally braces herself. They have a long walk ahead of them.
"Ne ne, Rita-san!"
She closes her eyes. Did Ging's kid ever run out of energy? The chick he banged must have had a lot of spunk to make up for his misanthropic attitude in Gon.
"Yes, Gon?"
"About what you did back there-"
Rita swiftly places a hand over Gon's mouth, gaze suddenly razor sharp. "If we're going to talk about me, keep it down. There are people watching."
"Eh?" Gon seems perplexed by this information. "Where?"
"I don't know." She nearly snaps. "Maybe not watching, but definitely listening. Anyways, I don't know, it could be the Zoldyck family, or maybe the butlers, but we're not alone."
"Okay." He whispers, hunching over just a slight bit. "About what happened when Killua's mom showed up…" He cocks his head, eyes as bright as ever. "That was fire wasn't it?"
She casts a sideways glance at him. Impressive.
"How'd you know?"
"How did I know?" He looks up and places his index finger to his chin. "I mean, it was pretty fast… After first I wasn't sure I was seeing correctly." He shrugs. "Well, I felt the heat. And… I'm not sure, I just thought it was." The green-clad bundle of energy grins. "But it was white." Then he suddenly frowns. "So I was confused."
"Ne, Gon, you know an orange-red flame is the coldest flame there is right?" Rita distances herself from him as she exhales billowing smoke from between her lips.
"Really?" He asks, even more perplexed now. "How did you do it? That was so cool!"
She clears her throat. "You'll learn about how I did it later."
"What do you mean? Will you tell me later?"
"No, it'll be someone else."
"Who?"
"Beats me."
"You're lying!"
"Hey that's rude. I'm not."
"Then how would you know someone will tell me if you don't even know who they are?"
She looks at him.
Because you're Ging's son. And there's no doubt in my mind you'll pass the final phase of the Hunter Exam.
"Because I just know. You can hold me to that." She smirks.
He pouts, frowning.
They continue on.
Ne, Gon, you know a white flame is the hottest flame there is. Right?
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: Hi! It's been a while since I last updated, haha, I'm so sorry =_=. I thought things would die down when summer hit, but on the contrary, I've been busting it to try to study for SAT Bio and Math 2, and quite frankly, I'm dying. How was this chapter, you guys? I know the beginning position might have shocked some of you, teehee.
I also know you guys are dying because you think the reunion is taking forever. I just want to say, that's kind of the point. But! I promise, I'll make it worthwhile, so please stick around :)
Please drop reviews! God I love reviews ;^; And for that wonderful anon ("bruh", or whoever lol), your comments made me die with happiness. ;^; You have the character analysis down and everythING I'M SO GLAD IT YOU GOT IT.
Thanks for reading! Thanks for sticking with me! Love ya'll! Good night :)