I have work tomorrow, so I won't be able to reply to all the lovely comments I received but I am so thankful to you guys.

Chapter 26

The first boy I ever liked smelled like jasmine tea and clean cloth. I learned that a week after I pick-pocketed his parents in the markets in the center of town. He had kept coming back after that, his eyes catching mine as I had slipped in and out of the throng of people, trying to look innocent and clean like all the rest of the city folks did. Part of thieving was playing a part, learning how to disappear into your own skin - shrinking down until people mistook you for another mannequin on display in front of the silk stores.

"Do you need this?" I shouldn't have let him work his way closer. People took notice of kids like him. Thirteen years old and the shop keepers already had their eyes on the finely pressed edges of his trousers and the clean, trimmed nails.

He was rich. And I loved that he was rich. I loved that it felt like a fairytale even though Amori and Imori had told me that reading those silly books to me was a waste of time. Life wasn't a fairytale. Life was filled with dreams that had to be earned, miracles that came with prices.

But his hair was dark, edged with red threads and his eyes were a striking ebony and his skin reminded me of hot chocolate that was sold in the winter. And I liked him.

The first time he spoke to me, he gave me a strand of pearls.

His hands were warm and sure around my own as they pressed the finest thing I had ever gotten into the creases of my palms. Those dark eyes had burned into me and I had thought for a moment that they were magic and they would suck me in - into whatever enchanted universe he came from.

"You need this," he repeated, his voice sinking with new determination before he squeezed my tiny hands around that necklace, nodded, and then backed away.

He slipped away that day like an angel and for the first time in my short life, I thought that I was going to be okay. Life was going to be better. I dared to hope.

"Where did you get these?" Amori breathed, handling that little ivory line like it was made of glass. Like he didn't even know if he should be touching it. Like he knew that we weren't worth even half of what this would sell for.

Cat-like eyes narrowed on mine, the fresh, swollen triangles below his eyes seeming more like warnings than a gift that we had all decided to get when he turned 18. Umori was crouched over him, his body lanky and too-big in the small, dirty room that we had snuck into for the night in one of the abandoned houses downtown. At 15, his body was growing ten times faster than his motor functions and that was beginning to show whenever my brothers tried to intimidate someone on the streets.

Imori watched us warily from the corner of the room, his eyes sweeping uneasily out to the streets just beyond the window. 14 and the most nervous - eventually, he would be able to redirect that energy into something more productive like planning our thefts.

But right now the Amori siblings were jumbled, lanky and nervous, and disorganized. We were sinking in a pool that was too big. While we would remain half-starved, those years were the hardest.

I shrugged, clutching onto Minoru's neck as I tried to press myself more firmly into his side. I didn't know a thing about stealing - just enough to maybe nab a few coins from some parents distracted by their children. More often than not, my brothers demanded that I stay home - too small, too young, and too vulnerable to be out on the streets. And at 11, I was all of those things and more. I was timid, non-confrontational - a walking database of conflicting personality traits and opinions.

But I couldn't live off of them forever. I wouldn't allow myself to become a burden.

"I found it on the side of the street," I lied and Imori's mouth trembled into a downward tilt, his eyes growing more and more feverish as he peered into the darkness.

Amori's eyes snapped up, his mouth hanging open for a second as he took in every crease of my face, assessing. He was always good at that. As the oldest, I supposed he had to be. No one else was going to lead us. No one else ever even thought to. Beside him, Imori reached out a finger, drawn by the delicate hue of the pearls gleaming in the moonlight. Amori's eyes never left me, his hand smacking Imori's hard enough to make him yelp and reel back.

My own hands tightened in the dark blue of Minoru's coat, eyes drawn to that glimmer strand. I wanted them back so bad. I wanted to feel if they felt as good against my skin as I thought they would. Maybe if I just put them on, I would be able to feel more… just more. I shook that thought away, taking a steadying breath. With the money from pawning this, we would be able to eat ramen for the next month - maybe more.

"We don't…" Amori's fingers tightened around them reflexively before he shook his head, his face smoothing. I could never really read him but at that moment… I thought he might have been lying. He shoved the pearls into my lap, getting up with a harsh exhale. "We can't pawn them. Too high profile. Maybe next time, squirt."

Imori visibly wilted with relief, scurrying over to the bag of stolen produce and beginning to rifle around for dinner.

Umori grunted, sighing as he forced himself up. "You did good, Mori." His large fingers rifled through my hair, a slow smile gracing the ungraceful line of his broad face as he looked down at me before following after Amori.

Later I would realize that we could have gotten a house from those pearls. Maybe started a good life. But at that moment, with dirt beneath my fingernails and a shower three days away, all I could think about was the gentle beauty of that necklace. And how I wanted it. I wanted it and the boy who had given them to me.

It was a year later that I learned that his lips tasted like spearmint. He had been coming to the market every day. Sometimes for only a few minutes and then others he would sit down on a bench with a steamed bun or some fancy tea and watch. He would watch me as I wove through the shops and crowds and he would watch as my hands disappeared into baskets or behind stalls.

Maybe he was waiting for me to come and speak to him. Maybe he had learned that trick from all those wild horses that his family surely had in their big, fancy mansion. Either way, he never spoke to me. And I never spoke to him.

Our relationship was constructed of fragile stares and unspoken wishes. I knew that he wanted something from me but what… I couldn't even begin to imagine. What could a boy who stole pearls and walked around in leather shoes with a purse of money want from an urchin like me?

"You'll stay away from him, Mori," Imori was whispering to me, his hands curling into my biceps with enough force to make me hold back my resulting wince. Unwanted, my eyes darted over his shoulder, where I caught the barest hint of jasmine-boy. Imori shook me again, his face pinched. "You promise me, Mori. You promise me that you'll stop-"

"I don't want to stop," I cut in bluntly, watching as Imori's face crumpled, his fingers loosening around my arm.

His eyes pinched, creases working around the soft skin of his lids. I had always thought that he looked so much older than all of us. Perhaps from the hours he spent up at night, a candle slow-melting beside him, his eyes straining to make out the words on the pages in front of us while we all slept. He thought that the more he read the more he would be of use.

His next words were soft, pleading. "Mori, please don't make this mistake."

That last word zinged through me like a live-wire and all at once, I was angry. How dare he? All my life, I had been scrounging, fighting, biting, and kicking my way for a solid meal and now he had the gall to order me to stop looking at a boy?

My finger jabbed into his chest, my teeth baring. "I think you've forgotten that no matter how much all four of us playhouse, we're not actually family. You have no right to tell me to do anything, brother."

My shoulder slammed into his, sending him stumbling back as I stormed out into the square. I wasn't a child. I may have the age of one but I had been forced to grow up a lot sooner than any of these people. I deserved this. My eyes locked onto the ebony depths of Jasmine boys. I deserved a chance at something more than my life.

He didn't stop me as I stretched up to him. Didn't stop me as I threw my arms around his neck and tugged him down. Didn't stop me as my lips met his in an awkward sketch of a kiss.

I didn't do it because I loved him. I did it for control. I did it because my life was anarchy and somehow - someway I knew that this part I could control. A rich boy was the least of my problems.

We fell into each other in a way that befits teenagers - chaotically, awkwardly.

His name was Jean. His family earned their living from the lucrative trade of pearl diving and fishing. 10 boats, 10 crews, over 100 housekeepers.

I learned his favorite foods, places, books, and plays. In return, I gave him my favorite place to see the sunset across Belcher's Bay, my favorite shop to nick apple tarts from, my favorite song that I heard outside the taverns. He took what I was, the world I inhabited in with childlike wonder, a dreamy yearning.

I should have seen his wanderlust from a mile away. Surely that was what my brother's saw.

"I forbid you-"

I let out a harsh snort, my shoulders going up as my brothers filled the space of the living room like cement pillars. Imori's eyes were hooded, his face drawn into a blank as he stared out of the windows of the abandoned building that we had come to call our own. He hadn't been talking to me ever since our fight a few months before. Umori looked sick, somewhere between keeling over and sinking to the floor, his big body hunched as he stood just behind a fuming Amori.

Cat-like eyes flashing, Amori growled. "Do you even realize what kind of danger you could put us in? This house? WE'RE THIEVES AND THUGS, MORI!"

"Oh please," I snapped, heat rising to my cheeks as I quickly realized and pushed away the thoughts of putting any of them at risk. "I haven't told him where we live-"

"No," he hissed. "He just knows your face and ours and the fact that we pickpockets in the town square. Would you like me to give you a round of applause now or later?"

"I think we should all just sit down and have some biscuits," Umori said anxiously, his eyes darting to a crumpled paper bag beside him. He picked it up with a half-hearted jerk. "I got them just today-"

"Fuck your biscuits!" Umori gasped, yanking the bag to his chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught Imori's sharp gaze. "I deserve this! From all the nights of not being able to sleep because I was so hungry to all the times where we got caught and someone beat the shit out of me! I deserve some - some happiness! For once! In this miserable life, I deserve-"

I stopped, the words clogging in my throat. Is he really your happiness? A treacherous voice hissed in the back of my head and I slammed a hand to my eyes, forcing back the words and the traitorous tears.

"Okay." I jerked, shocked at the cracked word. Amori's shoulders hunched, his head turned to the side as he stared hard at the table. His words were quiet, measured. Behind him, Umori and Imori stilled, growing solemn. "You know what you're doing and we… we trust you."

Trust was a double-edged sword. One that looked beautiful but inflicted pain if you got too close. Their trust came with barriers. I felt them in the way they stopped inviting me along on higher-end robberies. I felt it in Imori's avoidance and Amori's sad smiles.

"Do you love me?" No. I should have said that. I should have been honest and said that I wasn't sure I'd ever felt anything more than passing affection. But with Jean's hands on me, his breath ghosting along my bare shoulder - It was harder to tell the truth.

So instead I told a lie.

He was a good boy. I thought that a lot in the months when we met in his family's stables or in the forest where no one could ever find us and made love. He was nice and polite and he brought me gifts.

But...that's all he was. All he would ever be.

"Give me your money." Jean's fingers shook in mine, his body moving for a moment behind mine before he remembered some lesson or talk that he had gotten and pushed me behind his back.

He was trying to be brave, I realized. But he was so afraid - so unused to this situation. So...sheltered.

"Do you…" The words shook as Jean tried to force them past his lips and I could see the tilt of the thief's lips beneath his hood. People like me and him scented fear on the air. We counted on it to make our jobs easier. "Do you know-know wh-who I am?"

"A man with a wallet," the thief said lightly, his dagger flashing as it slid from his sleeve into his hand. "Give it."

It was like watching a play, something out of my control and yet in my control all at once. I watched as Jean's shaking hands went to his pocket and he begged the thief to just take the money and leave. I watched as his eyes darted to me and he tried to give me some semblance of a smile like he was trying to be brave but didn't entirely know the meaning of the word.

"Does the lady have a purse?" the thief inquired, making light work of taking the wallet and tipping to the side to eye me.

Jean's breath left on a hiss. "You gutter rat. Isn't one wallet enough for your greedy hands?"

Greedy. That was a funny word. Meant to shame but always used to describe the poor souls - the gutter rats that tried to crawl upwards. People like this thief and my brothers and I. All trash.

My fingers slipped from Jean's suddenly tired of this play that I had interjected myself into.

"I'm not a lady," I whispered and something about that was infinitely sadder than anything that came before.

It's a quick fight. The thief is younger than I thought he would be, small and in need of a good meal more than anything. I slip him a couple of coins and send him on his way with one less dagger and bruised eye.

"I think we should end things here, Jean," I whisper as I had back the wallet, not meeting his eyes but seeing the way that his adam's apple bobs.

"Is it because of the - the things I said?" he chokes, forcing the words out like a whipped dog. I don't look away from the column of his throat, the thick muscles of his shoulders. That little thief had bones like a baby bird - pressing out jaggedly from beneath his skin. "Because - because you're not like that - like that creature that just tried to rob us-"

I flinch and he goes silent. Those words hang between us for a moment too long before I can take a breath and turn away. "It was nice while it lasted, Jean."

He doesn't try to stop me and I thank all the stars that he doesn't.

I don't know what I cry for. Maybe the life I was stupid enough to think I could have. Maybe all the things I had given up for two years because I was a dumb teenager. The tears are unforgiving, scorching as I try and fail to gasp for air. I make it back to the broken-down building that we've been calling home in a rush, heaving and sobbing and unwilling to go inside because I hate it here. I hate that in front of me are endless days of stealing and scrounging and being treated like trash by people who have everything.

I heave, crying so hard that my body threatens to expel the contents of my stomach. My knees ache, hitting the gravel hard as I curl in on myself. A scream tears from me, raw and angry and desperate. And then another. And another. Until I can't give anything else and I lay folded on the ground like a used doll.

"She had the most beautiful copper hair." Imori's breath was warm against my temple, his arms strong as they cradled me, tugging me closer. I went limply, the tears coming slower like even they were exhausted. "I think I loved her - maybe I just loved the way she smiled at me in the beginning." He inhaled jaggedly. "Like I was worth a damn."

"Ah, you're not talking about Helen again, are ya?" Umori rasped roughly from somewhere above me and Imori gave a stern click of his tongue.

"She was downright frightful to behold," Amori grumbled and I felt a cool hand lift away the mess of my silver hair from my brow. His eyes were soft as they stared down at me - not exactly pity but maybe...sadness. His lips hitched into a half-smile. "Now, Janeece - ah, she was a beauty."

"She also called you scum when you gave her those dandelions," Umori muttered and I caught the waft of warm cinnamon buns as he crouched down beside me.

"I hate this," I whispered, shame making me turn away from their kind faces. Imori's shirt was soaked through, rough and dirty from too many days without a wash. "I hate that -"

I stopped. I didn't know what I hated. That they were right? That this would always be where we were? Garbage? Discardable? Scum? Trash?

"I know," Imori whispered and those words whispered from Amori's lips as well, his fingers running through my hair rhythmically. "But someday it won't be like this."

"Someday you'll be able to go shopping like all the other girls and go and get tea and coffee and cakes," Amori promised.

"We'll make it happen, Mori," Umori whispered. "Someday you'll be able to wear fancy dresses and put on lipstick-"

"And buy whatever clothes you want and go to whatever plays you want," Imori continued, his arms tightening on me.

I let out a short laugh, the very image funny. Where would they be, I wondered? What would they do with all this freedom? All this greed? "You can't possibly-"

"We're your brothers," Amori murmured. "If we didn't take care of you, what would we be worth?"

Their urns were cold in my hands, smaller than I would have thought. Umori had always been so big - I cut that thought off before I could fully process it, clutching those metal containers closer to my chest.

It's odd what grief can do to a person.

"This is barbaric," one of the other contestants was whispering to the examiners. "You can't possibly let that creature crawl out from here after murdering-"

"There was always the possibility of death," the chairman cut him off, his face severe. "Even yours."

I felt somehow...detached. As I stared down at the urns, I couldn't help thinking that this was all too...final. Too sudden. This was a lie that someone else had created for my life.

The urns were so...small.

I stared down at them, seeing and yet not comprehending. My brothers - they couldn't possibly have fit all that they were - I shut that thought off.

"That's why she went fucking ballistic-"

"God, I can't even imagine-"

"Unbelievable-"

"Did you see the way she tore into that guy-"

"Hisoka might have had something-"

"That could have been me."

I stopped listening, my eyes locked on that patch of sunlight shining just off the side of - God, who was I holding. I was… I was holding all of my brothers in my arms-

No.

No.

Hold onto yourself. Can't break now.

There was a low jangling in the back of my mind - something like a roar that was happening in another room. Funny. I could laugh.

"Breath." Everything came rushing back with excruciating clarity. Air burst into my lungs like the violent wave of a water hose on my skin. Everything hurt. My body was suffering, too hot and in too much pain and the room was so loud - someone was ripping apart wood, people screaming. My head buzzed with all the noise - A hand gripped my uninjured shoulder, squeezing gently as someone pressed into my back. Sweet breath blew along my ear. "I know where Ichihiro is~"

The whole world snapped together again with frightening clarity. Hisoka's eyes latched onto mine as he leaned closer, his lips grazing my ear invitingly as the solid lines of his body pressed to my back.

Somewhere in back of me Minoru gave a pained groan and I finally forced my gaze away taking in the destruction of the room around me. The examiners remained stiffly watchful, the other contestants in various corners, lining the side of the walls as they kept a wide birth from the disaster that Minoru had caused to the area around us. The red swirls embedding his fur burned a violent promise, his flanks heaving as the feverish light in his dark eyes embedded and then disappeared.

How long had that happened for? I stared blankly at the splintered wood and torn desks.

"I think our little disaster need to go get some rest," Hisoka announced suddenly, his voice cheeky as he straightened behind me, sending the examiners a flirty wink. "It's been a...trying day."

I didn't protest as he swept me up, his arms strong and sure beneath my knee and back. I was more tempted to sink into him. Across the room, the dark-haired man with his green attire watched us closely, his face decidedly blank.

"Do send a medic~" Hisoka called jovially, striding out of the room with such ease that you would have thought I weighed nothing. I almost laughed. With how little I'd eaten in the last week, I may have been closer to that mark than I cared to admit. Minoru followed silently behind us, his head drooping from exertion. How had he gone so rabid?

For a moment more, I let the silence hang between us, trying to work through what I wanted to do next. Ichihiro wasn't a hunter so I couldn't track him through an ID. I knew next to nothing about him. His name and where he was picked up would only get me so far. The urns were still clutched tightly in my arms, the chill seeping from them from the warmth of my skin. I couldn't think about…

"You know where he is?" The words rasped from me, sounding archaic, dusty. Hisoka didn't falter as he walked down a series of corridors, didn't even look down at me.

His tone was flippant. "You seemed interested in him so my attention was peaked." He paused, mulling something over. "Plus he was becoming quite annoying."

"Where-"

"Wait!" Hisoka stopped abruptly, turning at the sharp call. A greenish-black head of hair bobbed down the hallway, innocent eyes clashing with mine. Gon looked...sad. Sad for me. I swallowed down the disturbing mix of emotions that stirred in me. Panting, he skidded to a halt in front of us his eyes darting from me to Hisoka quickly. "I um… Your brothers… I wanted to apologize-"

"You didn't do anything," I snapped immediately, the response firing out of me with a readiness that made the little boy flinch. Against me, Hisoka's shoulders rolled, his face sardonic. His eyes ran over the boy with an attentiveness that reminded me of a lion assessing the pros and cons of taking down a water buffalo.

"Killua - my friend - he…" Gon's brows furrowed, digesting something for a moment before he trucked along. "He was assigned one of your brothers on the island. He'd know more about what happened."

My insides went cold, something about that fact making me freeze. He would… He could tell me what had happened. Maybe. My stomach rolled. Did I want to know?

"Did he kill him?" I hadn't meant to say that, the words soft, sharp. Gon's eyes went wide, his face paling and I pressed on. "Your friend. Did he kill my brother for his badge?"

"I - no-" Gon spluttered, flustered before something like cold-hard determination hardened his jaw. I tipped my head to the side, taking in the expression. For someone who wasn't even involved, he looked like he was willing to write it in blood if that meant that his friend wouldn't be dragged into this. "He wouldn't do that."

A flash of silver hair and cold eyes ran across my vision. I highly doubted that someone with eyes like that wouldn't kill. But… I stared down at the boy for one more second.

"Thank you," I finally murmured, earning a relieved smile. "I'll try and find this Killua of yours."

"Another thing I think I can shed some light on," Hisoka said smoothly, his smile anything but helpful looking. I wondered what price his aide carried.

We started to turn, my body going sluggish as the minutes ticked on. I was tired. In pain. Soaked through with a layer of sweat.

Gon's voice was high, sad as he called out to us. "I am sorry! Your brothers and you seemed...close. Losing family is...excruciating."

I didn't know what to say to that. There was nothing to say to that. Instead, I gave him a sad smile of my own, craning over Hisoka's massive shoulders.

Somewhere a series of birds chirped out a greeting. The trees whispered to each other. Voices swept from a distant hallway.

"The place?" I finally prompted, my vision wavering with fatigue. Golden eyes snapped down to meet mine.

"Heaven's arena," Hisoka murmured, his lips ticking up into a sharp smile. His eyes ran over my damaged body with an edge of vicious lust. "First we'll need to make you stronger though."

The very thought of the methods he might use to make me stronger made my blood go cold. But more than that… I frowned, glaring up at him. "Why are you being so helpful?"

His smile turned into a vicious little thing, his canines flashing white and sharp as he leaned a bit closer. His eyes burned, lit through with amber and honey. "Because later you'll help me. And because I like my toys to be strong. And intact. A doll with a punctured lung doesn't scream as pretty~"

I nearly gagged, my skin heating feverishly. Minoru gave a choked growl. Hisoka didn't even glance back, his smile still raw and wide.

"You're disgusting," I choked out.

"I'm all you have now, mousie," he threw back, his smile taming as he stopped to gently push open a door with his shoulder. "Don't look so trapped. At least, I'll take care of you." His brows raised playfully as he swept me inside. "Our relationship is the only thing you'll never have illusions about, Mori. In fact, it might be the only thing in your life that'll be completely real."

My eyes snapped to Minoru, his gaze pained as he snarled up at the tall man who merely grinned, sending him a wink before giving him a cheeky reply. "Oops."

I hate this new arrangement, Minoru grumbled, settling himself on the opposite side of the bed as Hisoka settled me gently onto the mattress. I folded, curling half-heartedly around the three small urns still clutched as close to my chest as possible.

The day wore down on me, pressing into me until my eyes dipped with the pressure. Maybe this is all a dream. My mind fogged, drifting. It's all… a dream.

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