the moment illumi zoldyck saw the petals tinged with red lying innocently on the sink, he knew he was fucked. at first he thought it was a nen user's fault. but he has never encountered one that uses petals to attack. and then he remembered. he's heard about this phenomenon before: a nen user suddenly coughing up flower petals.
it was rare, but not unheard of. several people have died of this phenomenon and not even nen exorcists can remove them.
hanahaki. that's what it was called. but the question is, why would the infamous illumi zoldyck succumb to this? hasn't his parents trained (tortured) him enough to not succumb to hanahaki?
"illu?"
the voice of his associate rings out from outside the bathroom, signaling the assassin to move.
he would have to worry about this later. right now, he would have to destroy all evidence before his partner notices anything. slender digits grab pink petals tinged with blood and flushed them in the toilet before opening the sink, letting crystal clear water rinse away any traces of crimson. onyx gaze does a quick inspection of his features. there was nothing there to suggest that the graceful assassin has been inflicted by the disease.
he stepped outside the bathroom, wrapped in only a towel around his waist, welcoming the sight of hisoka morow sprawled out in his mattress with nothing but the sheets covering his crotch.
the magician's lips twist into that familiar smirk at the sight of the long-haired assassin, patting the space beside him. illumi ignored him, choosing instead to collect his discarded garments scattered on the floor. out of the corner of his eye he could see the visible jutting of the magician's lips.
"are you leaving already?"
"yes," illumi replied as he dressed up. "something urgent came up. i need to go home."
hisoka falls onto his back, stares up at the ceiling.
"you're no fun."
"if you wanted fun then you should've called chrollo instead."
"that's true," hisoka agrees and illumi swears he could hear the smile in his voice. the thought makes him cringe internally. "chrollo is a lot more fun. it's a shame he keeps running away from me."
"you know, most people would get the hint by now."
"well i'm not like most people. one way or another, chrollo will be mine."
and there it is again. the need to puke his guts out. but illumi swallows the petals threatening to spill out onto the marble of hisoka's floor. there was no need to show weakness in front of the magician. he fixes his top and straightens his pins, thankful for the years of training to maintain a straight face.
"i'll leave you then. bye."
illumi spends his free time researching about the unique phenomenon he now finds himself in, but not even hunter websites could explain what triggers hanahaki. it just happens.
of course he can't accept such an answer. he found someone, a survivor in the country of jappon, and he books the next flight there.
as he packs his bag he feels another bout of coughing and he coughs one… two… three identical petals all smeared with blood. he doesn't know what flower it's from and decides to look into it more later.
a knock on the door made him shove the petals inside a pocket, wiping blood against the back of his pants hidden by a curtain of long, dark hair. his family didn't need to know about this weakness of his. they would probably try to train him out of the phenomenon.
"come in."
the door opened and his mother came in, visor glinting brightly in his dimly lit room.
"illu!" she started, voice once more in distress, when she noticed the bag resting on the mattress. "oh. are you leaving? i didn't know you had a job."
"it's personal. is there anything you need, mother?"
"oh, right! it's about kil! your father is convinced he would come back when he's ready but he doesn't understand! kil needs to return home! he's at a crucial part of his training!"
a sigh almost passed through his lips. his mother has always been concerned with only one son. he can't blame her, however. killua is the heir. not him. not milluki. not alluka. not kalluto.
"mother, i don't think father will listen to me," he started. before his mother could raise a complaint he added, "if i ever find kil, i'll try to convince him to come home."
that seemed to do the trick. her mother trusted him to persuade his brother to return home.
"alright. thank you, illu."
he wastes no time finding the survivor, an elderly woman named tsubaki.
the woman was friendly enough. illumi was glad he didn't have to use his pins to force answers out of the woman. she listened with rapt attention as illumi explained the predicament he's in.
"will you show me the petals?" the woman asked once he's done. the assassin brought out the crushed petals and dropped them into the elderly's open palm.
the woman examined each petal carefully before sighing. illumi waited with barely concealed impatience.
"the thing about hanahaki is that no one knows exactly what causes it and it only gets worse with time. it starts with petals, a few of them at a time, and then progresses until you cough enough to create a bouquet of fully-bloomed flowers. i experienced mine shortly after the death of my husband. i coughed out a bouquet of hyacinths." tsubaki gives the assassin the petals back.
"some say the answer lies in the flowers themselves. i'm sorry to say i don't recognize these petals. i'm not well-versed in flowers. i suggest you try and figure out what these petals are."
illumi nodded, taking the petals back.
"how did you survive? i've read that most people don't survive this phenomenon."
at this question, tsubaki smiled.
"i moved on."
the assassin was fully-booked the next couple of weeks and while he was glad his father had been keeping him busy, he couldn't shake the feeling that he has been getting weaker.
he had been coughing enough that he could fill a ziplock bag. he gets rid of the evidence immediately. nobody needs to know about the hanahaki.
besides, he has no time to be weak. with killua gone and kalluto running around with the phantom troupe, and milluki locked up in his room, he was the only available son his father could entrust the business to. he loathes to think just what his father would do if he finds out.
it was after one of his missions just near heaven's arena when his phone buzzed, indicating a message from his only associate: hisoka morow.
are you in town? i'm bored⭐-_-
he decided to humor the magician.
i'll be there after i clean up.
a few hours later and he found himself in hisoka's mattress, pressed between the sheets and the magician himself; their limbs a tangled mess and breaths mingling with each other as illumi begged the magician for release.
it was during his climax that hisoka slipped up, murmuring not his name but chrollo's into his ear that illumi felt like he was choking on flowers. but hisoka was oblivious to it all; only concerned with his own high that he didn't notice the male underneath him had stopped moving.
that night in the bath illumi coughed up an entire flower. and he wouldn't stop until the tub was filled with pink flora, turning the water red with his blood.
he found out just a week later that they were pink daffodils, a flower symbolizing many things: rebirth, new beginnings, respect, unrequited love.
ahh, illumi thinks. it all makes sense now. of course everything comes back to the magician, despicable as he is. even the color of the flower is reminiscent of the man.
by then his condition had deteriorated enough that his mother had noticed and even voiced out her concern.
illumi only shrugged her worries off and continued to fulfill missions given to him by his father. after all, he was trained to always choose family above anything else, even his own health.
he had just concluded a mission in yorknew when he felt the familiar menacing aura. he looked behind him to find hisoka standing there watching him with his usual smirk.
"i didn't think you'd be here." he said by way of greeting. the magician stepped closer.
"i had a lead here but it went cold. that was when i noticed you. perfect kill as always, illu~"
the assassin only nodded, ignoring the compliment. of course he was here because of chrollo.
"you in the mood for a talk?"
they find themselves on top of a skyscraper overlooking the city, with hisoka sitting on the ledge and illumi standing right beside him. hisoka had been complaining about chrollo for almost an hour while illumi tried to suppress the onslaught of daffodils begging for release. he hadn't even realized the magician had stopped talking long enough to notice that something was wrong with him.
"illu, are you okay? you look sick."
he opens his mouth to reply, only to cough out a daffodil. he looked to see that the man beside him had stood up straight in alarm, brows creased in worry. somewhere at the back of his mind, illumi noted that this is the first time the magician worried about him. he has to admit that it feels nice to have someone worry.
"illu, are you…?"
illumi shook his head, dark locks swishing behind him. he stared at the magician, his façade unbreaking.
"i was merely teaching myself magic tricks."
at this the magician raised one fine brow, skeptical.
"magic?"
"yes. magic. spending time with you made me grow an interest in it. what do you think?"
the assassin offered the flower and the magician took it, examining the daffodil in his hand. there was something not right with illumi. hisoka could feel it, though he chose to remain silent. trying to pry answers from illumi is just as hard a task as searching for the elusive head of the spiders.
onyx gaze trained on the magician as the daffodil was crushed in his palm, letting the wind blow its petals away. illumi silently watched until the petals were no more. soon, he thinks, he would be just as lifeless as those petals.
"what are you thinking?" he heard the magician inquire. eyes darker than night stare at hisoka.
golden orbs widen in surprise at the emotion in usually empty eyes. for the first time since he's met the assassin, he looked... lonely.
"i have come to the realization that when i die, nobody would mourn for me. not my family. and not you."
two weeks later and the silence at kukuroo mountain was shattered as kikyo zoldyck screamed at the top of her lungs at the sight of his eldest son lying on the ground covered in bloodied daffodils.