Hey guys! Just wanted to pop in and drop a quick TRIGGER WARNING for graphic descriptions of violence, death, blood and gore. Viewer discretion is advised.
Illumi sensed Hisoka's unfettered, excessive amount of bloodlust long before the magician stepped into the arena. It was a pulsating, intimidating feeling that spread through the room like wildfire, devouring everyone present and overwhelming every sight, sound and smell with its ominous presence. Fortunately, Illumi was trained to resist such things, so he didn't visibly react to it at all. He did notice a few people in the crowd cringing and shrinking back into their seats, though. Not many people who came to watch matches in Heaven's Arena could use Nen or sense the presence of aura, so only a select few of them were actually bothered by Hisoka's overwhelming bloodlust.
The assassin almost scoffed out loud. Hisoka was such a show-off, he was known to intentionally refrain from concealing his aura before and during fights for the sake of flaunting his power. However, at this rate, he was more likely to completely suffocate his Nen-sensitive audience than to impress them. Illumi was clearly the only person present who could withstand the sheer, unrelenting force of the magician's bloodlust-filled aura.
It's probably a good thing almost everyone here can't utilize or sense aura, because if they could, they'd probably lose their sanity. Illumi thought to himself, albeit a bit disdainfully. I think that's why he so openly reveals his power to others. He's trying to break down his opponent's will and get inside their head before the real fight begins. What a smart idea! He almost wished he hadn't been trained to keep his own aura masked at all times, otherwise he would try it himself.
He took note of the fact that most of the Nen-users in the audience had gotten so uncomfortable that they had decided to get up and leave right then and there, choosing to spare their sanity rather than watch the match. It was definitely a smart move on their parts.
An excruciatingly loud cheer rippled through the audience when Hisoka stepped into view and took his place at one end of the rectangular arena. He was wearing his usual smug smirk that implied he was up to no good, and his glittering amber eyes were fixated on the space directly in front of him, waiting ever-so-patiently for his opponent to arrive. His hourglass body was outlined perfectly in a halo of bright white light from the spotlights above, complimenting his fair complexion and making his presence seem even more ominous if that were even possible at this point.
Almost immediately, those sharply slanted eyes of his began wandering over the crowd, searching those numerous, meaningless faces for the only one that he actually wanted to see. When his eyes landed on Illumi after a long moment of searching, he grinned and waved a cheerful greeting.
Illumi did not respond in kind, choosing instead to dip his head respectfully, just far enough that Hisoka would see it but not far enough to alert the crowd of the fact he was the main focus of the magician's attention.
I still don't understand why he wanted me to sit so close, the assassin thought to himself as he watched Hisoka blow overexaggerated kisses to the crowd. He seems to love all the attention he's getting as it is, and he has no real reason to want to impress me. That man just makes no sense.
Hisoka's opponent arrived about two minutes later. His name was Fuji Haruto, and he was an elderly gentleman with a surprisingly well-toned body and steely green eyes that glimmered with a strange sort of youthful energy. His skin was well-tanned and mottled with pale scars and dark spots, each one indicating his strength in terms of experience as well as physique. But there was something about the slight stoop in his shoulders that told Illumi the old man already knew he was going to lose.
I'm not sure what he was thinking when he thought it prudent to challenge Hisoka. Haruto clearly knows he is about to die. Illumi leaned forward ever so slightly, taking interest in this strange old man who had so obviously accepted his fate but was still prepared to fight to the bitter end.
The referee standing in the center of the arena signaled for the battle to begin after announcing the rules. Naturally, killing your opponent was not off-limits by any means. Bloodshed resulting in death was what made Heaven's Arena such an exciting place.
The moment the match began, Haruto sprang at Hisoka with inhuman speed, his stocky legs a blur of motion. He tried to catch the magician off-guard with a quick, well-placed right hook punch to the jaw, but Hisoka was unfazed and sidestepped the abrupt attack with ease, as if he had seen it coming all along. Illumi could sense the milky white Nen surrounding Haruto's fist from the moment he swung his arm, revealing the fact his primary Nen type was most likely Enhancement (increased physical strength.)
Sloppy. Quite the mistake on his part, actually. He failed to realize the fact his first move gave away his Nen type right off the bat. Unfortunately for him, Transmuters like Hisoka are bad news for Enhancers. Illumi thought, running his fingers over the dangerously sharp tip of a Nen-infused needle hidden in his pocket.
Hisoka flicked his wrist, and suddenly, three cards came flying from his hand and buried themselves in the old man's chest. With a low grunt of pain, Haruto stumbled back, clutching his new injuries as blood trickled around the cards and dripped over his wrinkled fingers. He recovered quickly, seeing as the wounds weren't very deep at all. He ran at the magician again, this time leading with a high axe-kick to the head followed immediately by a roundhouse kick to the ribs. Hisoka blocked both with his forearms, shoving the other man aside and flinging a couple more cards in his general direction. Both cards missed their mark entirely, and Haruto's eyes lit up with a newfound sense of hope.
Hisoka's toying with him by making him think he actually has a chance of winning, Illumi realized. ...what a cruel idea.
The ravenet had never been one to toy with his assassination targets for the sake of prolonging the fight, getting more enjoyment out of it, humiliating them, or all of the above. He was trained to be efficient, and intentionally delaying the inevitable was anything but efficient. However, he understood in a weird sort of way why Hisoka seemed to like it so much. Hisoka liked to fight because it was like a game to him. As such, torturing his opponents by dragging out their demise for as long as possible was a tactic he practiced on a regular basis.
Illumi watched with a cold, unfeeling expression as Haruto launched a series of intensely powerful punches, kicks and other martial-arts-based techniques, putting so much of his Nen into it that it probably would've dealt some serious damage if it weren't for the fact Hisoka was easily dodging each and every blow with ease. His movements were elegant and perfectly balanced, and there were several openings for retaliation, but he chose instead to keep dodging and blocking the old man's attacks. There came the unpleasant sound of skin meeting skin as Haruto's clenched fist connected with Hisoka's criss-crossed forearms, hard enough to crack the bone and leave unsightly bruises in its wake. Illumi could clearly see the thin, protective layer of film spread over Hisoka's arms, and knew the brutal blow had done the magician absolutely no damage whatsoever.
With a cruel, sadistic smirk, Hisoka batted the elderly man's fist aside as though the power behind it was no more significant than that of a fruit fly's. Once Haruto's hand was out of the way, Hisoka lashed out with his right hand, a card clenched between his index and middle finger. The sharp, Nen-infused edge of the card sliced neatly across Haruto's clavicle, opening a narrow, lengthy cut that bled down his chest and soaked his white kimono in flowery crimson patterns. He staggered a bit, but recovered quickly, managing to catch Hisoka's side with a quick, sharp kick.
Hisoka's letting him land hits like that. That kick would have been so very easy to dodge. Illumi thought, as he watched Hisoka pretend to stumble a couple steps to the side as if in pain, earning a stunned silence from the crowd and very few supportive cheers from Haruto's fans.
The moment Hisoka recovered from his little act, Haruto was charging at him again, confident enough to try and strike as blatantly and conspicuously as he had in the beginning. He was faster this time, but that didn't mean anything to someone as skilled as Hisoka. The magician waited until Haruto was almost upon him before flicking his index finger in a come-hither gesture. This tiny motion, insignificant though it seemed, sent the old man flying over Hisoka's shoulder and landing flat on his back several feet behind him.
"Did you know that Bungee Gum has the properties of both rubber and gum?" Hisoka's voice was almost drowned out by the enthusiastically cheering crowd, but Illumi could still hear it, thanks to his close proximity to the actual arena.
The assassin couldn't help but roll his eyes. Hisoka would never stop flexing on his special Nen ability: Bungee Gum. It was a sticky substance that could only be removed by him. He tended to attach it to his opponents and use it to fling them around like ragdolls, and the only catch was that he had to actually touch someone to attach his Nen to them. He had probably attached it to Haruto while blocking his near-constant punching attacks a few moments ago. Because the old man had gotten so sure of himself, he had completely forgotten to watch out for Hisoka's Nen.
Haruto was a bit slower to recover this time, remaining on the ground for a solid three seconds before scrambling to his feet. He looked surprised, surprised that Hisoka hadn't attacked him while he was down.
Because kicking a downed opponent is no fun. Illumi tilted his head to one side, indicating his interest in the fight.
The two men in the arena continued to exchange blows until Hisoka grew tired of playing around and decided it was time to end the fight before it got boring. He flung a card right into Haruto's skull, knocking him to the ground and finishing him off with a positively brutal punch to the torso that caused his bones to give out and his chest to collapse, leaving nothing but a sunken, bleeding mess of torn skin, fragmented bone, and mangled lung matter. The old man was dead before he even had time to register the blow.
Hisoka's high-pitched, almost maniacal laugh rang throughout the massive room a moment later, after the referee proclaimed Haruto dead.
"This match has been decided! The winner is Hisoka Morrow!"
The crowd went absolutely insane, screaming various praises and jumping up and down as if they'd been possessed by some overzealous spirit.
Hisoka's hands were splattered with crimson, but he didn't seem to mind. He turned and bowed to the crowd before exiting the arena. From that point on, everyone else was allowed to leave. Illumi didn't hesitate to slip out of the room as quickly as possible, being careful to avoid the large crowds. He didn't understand how so many people could enjoy watching such pointless bloodshed and still have the heart to smile afterward. To him, it made no sense. What joy did all these seemingly normal people find in watching others die?
Illumi made his way up a long flight of stairs to Hisoka's designated floor that he had so graciously offered to share for the time being. The ravenet didn't know what to make of all the things he'd just seen. He'd witnessed Hisoka killing people thousands of times, so that didn't bother him in the slightest. But he couldn't stop thinking about the crowd.
Those were normal people. People who couldn't even use Nen, let alone sense another's aura. I highly doubt any of them have ever killed a fellow human being before. So why do they enjoy this type of sport so much? To the normal people, it should look like pointless violence because that's exactly what it is.
Hisoka's floor was extremely lavishly decorated, and surprisingly well-organized for someone as chaotic in personality as he. The walls were whitewashed, and the floor was made of an expensive, polished wood that gleamed in the dim light cast over the darkened room by a tall lamp in the corner of the room, alongside a glass door that led out to a large balcony. There was a white couch along the left wall, and a small kitchen and the hall leading down to the bedrooms on the right. Illumi didn't bother turning on any more lights as he made his way to the couch, he didn't mind the dark. He perched neatly on the edge of the couch and stared off into space, as still and silent as a statue.
Something about the fight he'd just watched did not sit well with him, though he wasn't sure why. Between Hisoka asking the young assassin to sit closer to the arena and the oddly bloodthirsty crowd, Illumi wasn't sure what to make of it.
He wasn't sure how long he had sat there contemplating all these things before he heard the front door opening and closing off to his right.
"Well? What did you think?" Hisoka padded into the room, looking as smug and troublesome as ever.
"I'm not sure." Illumi clasped his hands neatly in his lap, choosing to ignore the magician's seemingly incessant staring. "It confused me, in all honesty. I didn't think so many people of average stature could enjoy such a ridiculous, gruesome sport."
"That's all?" Hisoka raised one eyebrow, sitting down beside the assassin and making a point to lick Haruto's dried blood off his thumb. His hands were still covered in crimson fluid, though most of it had dried and crusted at this point. "Only you could be bothered by such trivial things. You forget, most of the spectators that come to watch battles here enjoy bloodshed because they're messed up. Someone must have hurt them in some way, because they take delight in watching others be torn apart."
Illumi was silent for a moment, staring down at his own hands with what appeared to be vast interest. "Why'd you want me to sit so close?" he finally asked.
"Because you're the only person in the audience I wanted to see clearly." Hisoka replied, without skipping a beat. "You're so very interesting, Illumi."
This statement only succeeded in confusing the ravenet even further. He shot the magician a suspicious stare, but this was only met by a devious smile. "How am I even remotely interesting? I'm just an assassin, nothing more."
"If you were only an assassin, I wouldn't follow you around so much. Assassins themselves are boring. All they ever do is kill whoever they're told to kill with mechanical precision. But you, on the other hand... I could tell from the moment our eyes met that there was something special about you, and I'm determined to find it." Hisoka explained, examining his nails with fake modesty. "I must admit, I am a very curious person by nature, so I can't help wanting to know what secrets you hold."
"I don't have any secrets." Illumi declared, turning up his chin and making a huge show of ignoring Hisoka. "And there's nothing special about assassins, so I'm afraid you'll find yourself very disappointed. Your crazy notions about people aren't always right, you know."
"I'm never wrong, darling." Hisoka grinned from ear to ear, completely oblivious to the fact he was getting blood all over his white pants from the stuff on his hands.
Illumi gave him a thoroughly disgusted look and said, "You should probably go wash up. You're gonna wind up staining your clothes if you aren't careful."
Hisoka looked down and noticed the crimson smears all over the front of his pants for the first time. "Oh," he gasped, as if surprised. "I suppose you're right. I'll go get a shower, then. I don't care where you sleep tonight, but it can't be on top of shelves or anything like that. If one of them decides to tip over and fall, you could wind up hurting yourself." he stood up, dusted himself off (which only succeeded in getting more blood on his clothes,) and disappeared down the hall.
Illumi began absentmindedly rocking back and forth as he processed everything that had just happened. He thinks there's something special about me. He thinks I'm interesting. But why?
The young assassin had never considered himself likable by any means. He had always assumed that he would go through life completely separated from the rest of society, destined to live and die completely and utterly alone. Strangely enough, he thought he was okay with that until he met Hisoka.
Hisoka was such a strange, vocal man who tended to speak his mind regardless of the circumstance, which was both admirable and annoying at the same time. He only ever took interest in those who were either stronger than him or possessed something that he wanted. Illumi was neither of those things. In a one-on-one fight, he was certain Hisoka would win. That, and Illumi had absolutely nothing Hisoka would want from him. There must be some other reason behind his interest.
But what could that reason be? It made absolutely no sense, and made Illumi's head hurt just thinking about it. For the first time, he found himself wondering if he had made a mistake by seeking the magician out.
The sound of the shower starting in the bathroom jolted Illumi out of his thoughts. Grateful for the distraction, he stood up and silently wandered down the darkened hallway, seeking out a comfortable place to sleep. He simply refused to sleep in a bed, they were too big and soft and honestly made him feel insecure. He much preferred a dark, tight space in which he was thoroughly hidden from view. A bed was simply too predictable and too obvious.
He settled on a towel closet at the end of the hallway, right outside the entrance to Hisoka's bedroom. Illumi determined that the large, broad shelves lined with soft, fluffy towels of varying colors were big enough to accommodate him. Despite how tall he was, he was also exceptionally good at fitting into small, tight spaces thanks to his freakish flexibility.
Once he had figured that out, he returned to the main room and rummaged around in the small kitchen for something to eat. He selected a pomegranate from the basket of fruit atop one of the black marble counters and set about cutting it open with expert coordination. Before long, he was back on the edge of the couch, sitting up perfectly straight like a cat, munching on a bowl of pomegranate seeds. The dark reddish-purple juice staining his porcelain-pale fingertips reminded him of blood. Blood and the other bodily fluids that tended to stick to his hands after particularly sloppy kills.
He didn't usually think of his victims. Didn't care enough about who his targets were to look back on them. But sometimes, he could still see their faces and hear their voices, as if they'd come back from the grave in the form of ghastly apparitions to haunt him. Their wide, beady eyes and silent, gaping expressions always clearly communicated the same question: Why?
Illumi shook those thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time to stress over the dead.
Instead, he chose to think about what he would do about his parents. He still couldn't go back to them; he was too ashamed of the fact he was no better than he was when he left. He knew that the fact he had stayed away for too long would result in harsh punishment upon his return, but he could handle whatever torturous hell they could possibly throw at him. He was more worried about what the repercussions would be if he showed up without having made some sort of improvement to himself. What if they decided they didn't want him anymore and cast him out?
A slight tremor ran through his body at the very thought of being shunned by his own family. He didn't know what to do.
But... even if I do find a way to better myself... would it finally be enough for them? Or would they just act like I don't even exist like they always do? Is there even a point in going back?
Illumi grimaced. He hated himself for thinking such preposterous things. He couldn't run away from them. He had to go back. But... for the first time ever, he was surprised to find that he did not want to. He'd much rather just stay away.
Hisoka doesn't expect me to constantly improve myself like my parents do. He doesn't have all these crazy, unobtainable expectations for me. Maybe I am better off just staying here...
He sighed and popped another pomegranate seed into his mouth, focusing on the tangy, slightly sour taste on his tongue rather than all the unwanted thoughts circling in his brain. He was tired and frazzled from such a long day, now was not the best time to think about any big life decisions. He'd consider it more in the morning, but he was going to put it on hold for the night so he could get some sleep.
He had completely lost track of time, and wound up lost in thought until Hisoka emerged from the bathroom. Naturally, though not surprisingly, the magician wandered into the front room without any clothes on. His vibrant red hair was messy and strewn across his face, giving him a more rugged appearance. That, and he was no longer wearing his ridiculous makeup.
Illumi kept his eyes focused on the wall directly across from him for modesty's sake. Hisoka chuckled as he made his way across the room and stole a couple seeds from Illumi's bowl.
"You haven't moved a muscle since I last saw you. Are you really that good at staying still?"
"I can remain completely and utterly unmoving for three hours straight when absolutely necessary. This is nothing." Illumi replied, mechanically. He considered asking Hisoka why he was not dressed, but decided against it. The magician would probably find a question like that immensely amusing.
Hisoka grinned. "Are you gonna finish those, or can I have some, too?"
"Take them." Illumi sighed, handing the redhead the bowl of seeds without looking at him. "What did you think of Haruto? He seemed... strong."
"Who, that old man? Strong? Don't make me laugh, he was a pathetic excuse for an Enhancer. How he managed to fight his way so far up Heaven's Arena is beyond me. I'm guessing he cut deals with his opponents." Hisoka waved his hand dismissively, popping a couple seeds into his mouth.
"Cut deals?" Illumi raised one eyebrow curiously. "As in paying his opponents to forfeit or intentionally lose the match? Or perhaps to not show up at all?"
"Precisely. There are also those who sneak around here at night, looking to kill their opponents before the match has a chance to start. It's like assassination, but for extremely petty reasons. It's a popular way to find yourself near the top of this skyscraper, but killing off a Floor Master such as myself is impossible. It's also sloppy and generally frowned upon by the community." Hisoka replied, giving Illumi a quick once-over before returning his attention to the nearly empty bowl of seeds in his lap.
"Hmm. I can see why. Killing someone in that context is comparable to cheating in a professional sport." only the assassin's meticulous training prevented him from cringing under Hisoka's perverted stare. He hesitated before adding, "I still don't understand why you toy with your opponents so much, though. If you know they're going to die, why not just kill them? Why drag it out for longer?"
Hisoka's soft smile quickly became a cruel one. "Ah, the answer to that is quite simple, darling. I like to see the look on their faces when they realize I've only been toying with them and they never really had a chance to beat me, despite what all their pathetic little hopes and dreams might have been telling them. It's almost as addicting as watching the light leave a person's eyes upon slaughtering them. For me, that's what makes these matches worth my time." he explained, standing up and marching into the kitchen to rinse the bowl off and put it away.
"Oh." Illumi still didn't understand, but that was most likely because Hisoka made no sense.
Illumi had never seen the appeal in delaying the inevitable. That was a level of brutality he wasn't interested in practicing. He liked to make it perfectly clear from the get-go that his targets had absolutely no chance of escaping their encounter with him alive. After all, to die with no hope is better than to die with crushed hope.
"Have you found a suitable place to sleep, darling?" Hisoka asked, from where he stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of red wine.
"Yes, I think I have. I'll soon be retiring for the night." Illumi replied, looking down at his hands, which were folded neatly in his lap. "Tomorrow I need to start thinking about making arrangements to return home. Whether I've bettered myself or not, it's unacceptable of me to have stayed out this long."
"What a shame. I really wish you would stay for longer."
"You know as well as I do that I can't."
"And why is that, hmm? You're a grown man now, Illumi. Your parents don't have any control over your actions anymore. Legally speaking, you're free to do whatever you want and they don't have a say in it."
"Assassins must be loyal to their family." was Illumi's mechanical response. "Undyingly so. What kind of son would I be if I threw away the life they worked so hard to give me?"
"Killua did it. He was smart enough to run while he had the chance. Probably because he didn't want to end up like you." Hisoka shrugged noncommittally, taking a sip of his wine and eyeing Illumi with what appeared to be pity in those amber eyes of his.
Illumi's head snapped up and he glared at the magician with enough venom to kill four grown men. "Do not mention my brother again."
"Sorry, sorry..."
The ravenet sighed, taking a moment to regain his composure before standing up. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight." he said, tersely.
"Goodnight, Illumi." the magician chuckled as Illumi hurried past, disappearing down the hallway.
The assassin took a deep breath as he made his way over to the closet he'd found earlier. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe he'd find an answer to his predicament then.
A/N: Looking back on it, I had a really hard time working up the nerve to publish this chapter because I am usually terrible at fight scenes. It took a lot of support from one of my friends to convince me to stop being a wuss and just get it over with. Now that I think about it, I may have done a little better than I originally thought, though I still think it is sloppy and could have definitely been written better.
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