With a great heave, the door to Gon's cell was thrown back against the wall, kicking up dust from the concrete into a thin cloud. Gon inhaled some, and the coughing was what woke him up this morning.
The man asked whether he was ready for breakfast, even though there was nothing he could have done to get ready. Gon ran his face under the sink. Some of the water went in his mouth again, bitter like burnt copper, and Gon spat it out. "I can't even have five minutes to get ready before you bust in here."
He didn't really mind, however. Today's breakfast was special: a huge, pale omelet of a whole dodo bird egg, stuffed full of herbs and tender pork. Gon ate silently and heartily and the man occasionally stole small bites off the edge with his fork. Neither of them spoke during meals now. Each of them had offered up weak attempts at conversation in the belief that it was what the other wanted, but it didn't take long to figure out that they both were comfortable in silence, and they never bothered with it again. Gon was usually glad of it. But silence was a bad plan, he thought, it would keep him from knowing important things.
So he decided to cash in an old promise from his captor to tell him stories about himself. He didn't say it that way, of course; instead, he told his own stories about growing up on Whale Island with Mito-san, tying up the Master of the Swamp from the stout tree limb and taking the Hunter Exam. He did not say anything about the people he met in the Hunter Exam—the slight, stoic blond, Kurapika, the tall and easily noticed young man, Leorio, and his new best friend, Killua—and if the man knew of his omission, he gave no indication of it. He listened intently and rested his chin on the heel of his wrist.
When he had said as much as he needed to, Gon asked, "How about you? I still barely know anything about you, Hunter-san."
"Well," sighed the man, "I'm afraid I can't tell you as much about me. So why not make it a game? You ask me five questions, and I'll answer them as truthfully as I can."
"Sure," he said, because it was the best offer he was going to get. "Why did you become a Hunter?"
"Not much different from you, I suppose. I knew there was a goal I wanted badly enough to spend my life chasing. All Hunters have one. Personally, I've always wanted to understand the world. I used to be very ambitious, or possibly just wildly optimistic, and I truly believed that the goal was a worthy one. I spent all my attention on it; because of my job, I was always travelling, and I took in every morsel of knowledge I came across. I was so close to the answer—I was right on the precipice." The man averted his gaze quickly, perfectly timed and perfectly theatrical. Just as quickly as he had done so, his intentionally vacuous grin snapped right back into place. "But then I got bored of that, so I stopped. Now I'm just enjoying myself, I suppose."
Gon was silent for a moment, unsure of what to ask next, what information would get him out of this jail the fastest. Talking with his jailer was maddening, and he felt as though he was playing some intricate game that he had never even learned the rules to. He felt the man's unwavering, expectant stare upon him, and because he could think of nothing else, he asked, "What did you learn, then?"
"Nothing especially interesting. If I were to tell you, I think you would be very disappointed at how little I learned. Besides, it's best to discover these things for yourself. Disillusionment doesn't suit the young; you've still got far too much work ahead to be down on the world."
Before Gon could stop himself, he asked another question which he immediately regretted. "What's dis-il-lusionment?" He drew out the unfamiliar syllables, and the man was startled into laughter.
"Sorry about that. It means when you become fed up with the way things are, and you start to feel like nothing can ever change." The man reached across the table to pat his head. "Although, you've reminded me that we ought to continue your education while you're here."
The man ended breakfast almost immediately, scooping up the plates and silverware in one precarious stack and shuffling them to the industrial sinks. Almost as though a fever had come over him, he began writing madly in the back of a notebook, his script uniform and disciplined.
"Should I go back to my room?" Gon asked.
The man replied absently, "No. You can stay here. Do whatever you want; I just need an hour or two."
"What are you doing?" Gon shifted in his seat. The thought passed through his head, that this might be his chance to run for it. But his captor was right there, and while he had tried to commit the layout of the warehouse to memory, he had still only seen a small portion of it, and that he knew of, he had never even come close to the exit.
"Writing your curriculum." Even as he talked, the man's pen did not slow. "I think it should last for around two years, provided you stick around for all of it." Then, as he turned the page, he looked up from his paper and straight at Gon, amused and perfectly aware, and Gon resisted the urge to shudder.
But it seemed the man had finally been pushed past the point of ignoring Gon's desire to escape, or maybe it had just gotten too exciting to withhold any longer, because he continued, "I know that you intend to leave me as soon as possible. But you must understand, Gon, that I will help you reach your goals. I know you want to find your father. If you let me train you, I will bring you to him myself. As elusive as your father is, even he can't avoid me forever. But what about you? Do you think you could find him yourself, right now?"
"Of course I could!" Gon shouted. He felt all the anger and terror of the past months bubbling over within him, forcing its way out and threatening to combust. "How dare you? You never gave me a choice. I still don't have a choice, so what does it matter?"
"I feared this," the man sighed. "I never intended to jeopardize our partnership. Taking you into my care was the most expedient way of achieving our goals. Although I see now that I should have considered how all this would seem to you. If you wish it, we can terminate our partnership right now."
It was too good to be true, and Gon was immediately suspicious. "This is a trick. What do you really want to do with me?"
The man deflated so pathetically that Gon felt an unconscious pang of pity for him, quickly overcome by anger. "Gon, I think we may have to terminate our partnership," he said. "If you feel that you can't trust me, we will never be able to help one another. In that case, we would each be better off working separately. We will prepare for your return immediately."
The man rose and began to pace out of the dining hall. It was all too fast and Gon could not keep track of his thoughts. For months on end, he had schemed thousands of escapes, dreamed of blasting a hole in the concrete and seeing the daylight again, and now his escape was right here, delivered without even a struggle. But still, he called out after his captor, "What are you going to do?"
The man turned to face him and said, "We will return you to Whale Island as soon as possible. Your memory of your time here will be removed, and I will give you a suitable replacement memory so that you won't have to worry about any remaining trauma I may have unintentionally inflicted. Other than that, you will be free to reapply for the Hunter Exam and continue your search for your father."
The offer was tantalizing, and for an instant, Gon could see the scene before him. How easy it would be to say yes, and then he would be riding home on the ferry, and back in his own bed and eating Mito's food again. She would hug him until he could hardly breathe and she would probably make roasted seafowl, his favorite. He thought of his own bed and his blanket, how much softer and cleaner it was than the graying cot in the warehouse. The thought raised a lump in his throat, and his eyes stung with the threat of tears. But as much as Gon longed to go home, the thought of being home awoke a terrible dread in him. It was wrong. It would be wrong to forget his months trapped here, to return to his life thinking that nothing had even happened.
"And what if I didn't want to leave?" Gon tried to lower his voice to sound serious and threatening, and to hide the shaking in his voice.
"In that case, we would continue as before," the man said cautiously. "You would stay with me and begin the next phase of your education and training."
"If I were to stay with you," Gon began, "where would we stay?"
"Here, I suppose. It wouldn't particularly matter."
Gon made his choice; the last issue was laid to rest. "I don't want to stay here," he said, feeling the first tears hot enough against his skin to burn. "Get somewhere else. I don't care where. Just make it a real house, with a real bed."
"Then you wish to continue working together?" The man looked shocked, and Gon felt that for the first time, he saw his captor as a human, experiencing shame and surprise like he ought to. Gon felt a vengeful thrill at the sight of it. A part of him wanted to twist the knife, make the man feel what he had taken from Gon, but that was unwise. Short-sighted. He would have more to gain by waiting, so he would continue to wait. He nodded slowly. It felt terribly final, and the man seemed to realize it as well, a heretofore unseen solemnity entering his body. He reached out his hand and Gon took it firmly.
"From here on, we are partners," the man said. "I considered you so before, but now it's official."
The man left the room to attend to the day's work, packing his belongings into a solid-colored duffel bag and suitcase, running a cloth damp with neon cleaning fluid over practically every surface in the building to remove any trace of its inhabitants. Gon had nothing to pack but clothes, so he spent the day staring out the window, wondering what he had just done, where he was going.
A/N: I'm back! I started reading again with a vengeance. I promised myself it was just to learn, that it wouldn't get in the way of writing, but yet here we are. If anybody here has read Harlem Shuffle, I got a signed copy of it, which was beyond incredible. And if you haven't read it, then get on it ASAP. Absolutely worth it if you're into noir fiction, or even if you're not.