Title: Luminescence
Author: Cherrie (kurapikasama@yahoo.com)
Chapter: 5/5
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Hunter X Hunter © Yoshihiro Togashi, Shounen Jump Weekly, Shueisha and Nippon Animation. This fanfic is written for entertainment purposes only.
Summary: The story surrounding Yours Truly, Hisoka.
Notes: *looks mildly disturbed by what she wrote in 'chapter'* The last chapter! *falls into a relieved heap on the floor* Anyway, let me just point something out before somebody mentions it. If anybody would care to notice, this fanfic is a bit fast-paced. Scenes are cut and in almost every part, Hisoka is always with Illumi and vice versa. Well, you see, this is just a take on how Hisoka and Illumi got together even with that *points menacingly at Yours Truly, Hisoka* letter there. Nothing in the anime changes, and we all know what happens there, right? I'm only going on the in-betweens, I need not repeat anything. That's how I take it anyway. If anybody wants to say otherwise...well, I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to do those repetitions on your own ^.^' Anyway, this chapter is kind of weird, and the characters are a little bit OOC. I'll think about how to get rid of that =P
Dedication: Sacks and sacks of Hisoka plushies to Shin Kurosaki. You're the best! The fanart was wonderful, thank you so much!!! *glomps enthusiastically*

* * * * * * * * * *

If you think you've achieved a victory, take note of your mistake. There are yet things left to be settled, and you've had your way long enough. If you think you're the only one capable of decisions, then you're even more foolish than I suspected you to be.

It's my turn now.

* * * * *

Not another stupid meeting.

Hisoka tried really hard to keep himself from knocking his head on the wall behind him. As usual, he was sitting on the farthest seat from the group as Kuroro yapped himself to oblivion regarding that night's plans. True, careful preparations were needed, but with the guy's calm exterior set aside, one would almost pass him up as a victim of paranoia. He thought of every little angle, and though that's usually a good thing, one has to admit that it gets boring after a quarter of an hour passed.

"I suppose that everyone still remembers the initial command?" asked the Kuroro, taking the leader's seat in front of the whole group as usual.

"Kill everyone that gets in the way," answered one of the members, a slightly diabolical grin playing on his lips behind his cape. Feitan, if Hisoka remembered correctly. It was hard to think about it, but that guy was more or less older than he was despite the height. Looks would truly deceive one if he stopped taking caution .

"That's right," said Kuroro again. He paused to look around at every single member, his expression still and relaxed as it's always been. Hisoka wished to wipe that smug look off the guy. It gave him a solemn yet deadly atmosphere, the kind that would give one the confidence to take over the world. Hisoka supposed that it was the very aura that drew him to the leader. He yearned to face the man in battle and finally shed his blood, and his patience was wearing thin. How many years does he have to endure just to get the guy alone? He felt trapped being with this group, wary of their closeness and loyalty. Not everybody is meant to be in a team, and Hisoka believed that he was a part of those people.

He wanted a good fight. Ever since the end of the Hunter Exam, Hisoka had constantly fought in various battles in and out of arenas. He had reasons for his more aggressive actions far more than he was willing to admit. But he was quite sure of one thing. When all else fails, the hardship of a worthy battle would always soothe his mind, and right now, that was exactly what he just needed. Kuroro was just a bastard enough to keep himself out of Hisoka's reach until now.

Oblivious to one of his members' different lines of thoughts, Kuroro continued. "As expected, the Mafia community regards this auction as a grand event, and guards prowl the perimeter in every angle. Several assassins were also hired to especially maintain order."

"We can take them," said yet another cheeky member, Phinx.

Kuroro let out a small smile. "True," he said, nodding his head once. "But I always prefer to take precautions. As all of you remember, we are one member short right now," at this, the leader cast Nobunaga a look. The samurai let out a regretful sigh and nodded in understanding. Hisoka had to admit. For a heartless man, Kuroro can give comfort. "During the time when the Mafia community hired their assassin groups, I met one assassin who preferred to work outside the side of the Mafia. He knew me at once. I'm still wondering how he was able to do that. But he said he shall keep his silence, and offered me his services."

"We can't trust an outsider," said Phinx immediately upon hearing the leader's story. "How can we be sure that he isn't working for the Mafia as well? Besides, we can take them without outside help."

Again, Kuroro let out yet another haunting smile. "Is anybody here familiar with the Zoldick's?" he asked.

Much as he tried, Hisoka couldn't help but stiffen at the mere mention of that name. Damn his body and his lustful obsessions. If there's one thing Hisoka hated about himself, it's his tendency to remain obsessed. It was all so simple before. Obsess upon worthy challenges and hunt for their blood. But he had ignored the growing fixation he had for a certain man, ignored the fact that what he felt was different, and it grew to dangerous heights until he had stooped so low as to run away from it merely because he couldn't understand anything about him anymore.

What was worse was that he might've ran away, and he might've escaped, but once he's hooked, he'll never forget. That was how his mind worked, and that's what was driving him to go on. And yet, he discovered that even the most reliable characteristics could become the most treacherous ones as well.

"The Zoldick clan is well-known for their highly-praised assassination work," explained Kuroro, though of course, every one of them has heard of the name at least once. "They never act for a single man alone, and their loyalty is bounded only by the money paid by their employers. The Mafia against the Geneiryodan. It's a wonderful battle, don't you think?"

Kuroro paused and saw that all the members' eyes were on him. Hisoka hated to admit it, but even he himself was actually listening.

"Though one may have his guesses, he can never know which side will prevail. And if my presumptions are correct, the Zoldick clan, not knowing which side to take..."

"Will take both sides," finished one of the younger members, Shalnark.

Kuroro smiled and nodded. "That's right," he said. He cast everyone a knowing look. "It's all about the money. Trust and loyalty is never a factor."

As if on cue, footsteps rose from the darkened stone entrance of the room. Hisoka, as well as the other members, watched the shadows until a distinct form emerged from the darkness. Clad in dark magenta, the figure of a pale man walked towards the center of the room and stood just beside Kuroro, his black hair cascading in a spellbinding dance behind him.

"My friends," said Kuroro, gesturing towards the outsider. "Meet Illumi Zoldick."

* * * * *

You have questions you refuse to ask. You really don't have to. Maybe if you would just lay still and listen, perhaps I could give you the answers.

But you already know what they are.

You just refuse to accept them.

* * * * *

His whole body was tingling all over, as if thousands of needles pricked his skin simultaneously. He could feel the hair on his arms rise as he tried to close the distance between Machi and himself. He couldn't blame the situation, even if they were already given the order to kill as much as they could. Excitement, though it was still there, was not the reason why he felt so strange.

"Hey, come on, jester. What's slowing you down?" asked the blue-haired woman in front of him as she turned her head to look at him. She urged him on, just as she was shooting down her nen-made threads at the guards shouting at them to stop. With a quick pull of her arm, five of them were lifted from the ground, struggling from the chords until they ran out of breaths.

That was the third time she had to call him to keep up, and his patience with himself was wearing thin. Hisoka shook his head awake, and heaved out a frustrated sigh. This was not the time for him to start daydreaming. He willed his strange thoughts away and exerted more speed in his steps to fall in beside Machi.

"Lighten up, babe. There are enough thugs here for the both of us," he said, giving her a bright grin as he held up his cards. They eventually flew to designated directions, all hitting their targets. Bullets rained at them both, and the two had to hide behind the shadows of the trees as more guards burst out from the building.

Machi stood behind the tree, waiting for an opportunity. The leader of the guards yelled at the others for their incompetence, and threw various other insults just to keep them going. Machi watched as the group grew in number, her knuckles cracking as she lifted her hand, ready to strike.

"You know him, don't you?" she asked all of a sudden, her voice low and only above a whisper, catching Hisoka in yet another daze. Hisoka was thankful that she had her eyes elsewhere lest she sees him in his current state.

"Who?" He knew fully well who they were talking about, but he was far too frustrated with himself to admit it. He didn't really want to talk about him, after all. Machi was right there with him, and if he wanted to think of somebody to lust over or whatever it was that he needed, she's always there. She's always been there. She never showed interest, but that never stopped him. If he would think about it, things would be more simple if he just wanted her instead. He'll flirt, they'll fight, Machi will glare, Hisoka would grin triumphantly. She was never one to coil him around her little finger and control his thoughts. Machi would never destroy him like he was being destroyed now.

But why did his mind refuse to take that idea in!?

"I remember that boy from the Sky Arena, the one you were always watching," she said, her eyes never leaving the guards. "He had a companion. A Zoldick. I assumed that he and our new friend are brothers."

"What makes you think that I know this other one just because I know somebody who is friends with his brother?" asked Hisoka, keeping up an excellent front in keeping his nonchalance. Nothing in his voice betrayed his guilt.

But Machi knew better. A small smirk played on her lips. "You underestimate a fellow Henka, Hisoka," she said, a golden sparkle in her eyes. "You may wish to lie and keep secrets from the group, but you can't hide something so obvious from me."

Hisoka frowned, not liking the course of their conversation. Machi never talked to him voluntarily, so why was she starting now? "What are you talking about?" he asked, for once serious in her presence. He never really talked to the other members, but he would always find himself after Machi. He always had the upper-hand, and she would always be the one to end up walking away. But why was he at the receiving end of her jeers now?

Machi's laughter was light, even when the stickiness of her mockery ebbed through the edges. "You were watching him," she said, as if that very statement proved her point. Perhaps it had, for Hisoka found himself silent in her presence for once, his eyes flashing irately in the dark. In her mind, Machi draw out a triumphant line, a tally of her victory in a verbal fight against Hisoka.

The number of the guards have diminished to a controllable number, and Machi decided that this was her opportunity. With a quick sweep of her fingers, her threads sparkled against the lights. She gave Hisoka no heed, no warning of her plans. All that she gave him was yet another statement to wake him up.

"And do you know something else, jester?" she asked, using that playful nickname she had given him just to mock him. "He was watching you, too."

* * * * *

Being trapped is a sickening feeling, isn't it? As a child, I've always hated it to be completely honest. It's quite amusing to see you in it, though. You're trapped, aren't you?

Play the game, Hisoka. Play our game again.

* * * * *

It was hopeless. He was hopeless. Nobody's perfect, and hey, mistakes happen. But he should've known he couldn't trust that child. His emotions had a firm hold on him, his youth needing far more wisdom still. His anger drove him to his own confusion, and perhaps that was the reason why he forgot about their agreement, or just chose to turn away from it.

Kurapika had used Hisoka's aid to get a hold of Kuroro, and yet, there Hisoka was, trapped in that warehouse with a giant zombie and a mummy. He cast a wary glance towards his two companions, yet without much enthusiasm to insult them in his mind as he wont to do. He didn't know whether he should regret what he had just done as he now waited for his signal. He couldn't help but ask still.

Why was he here?

At first, he thought that what Kuroro said to them was the whole truth. That Illumi was just here for the family business, cared crap about him and was after the money alone. He even convinced himself to stop thinking about him, even when Machi's parting words still haunt the back of his mind every time he would get the chance to clear his thoughts. But even if some of his attempts worked, Illumi still found a way to get through him and Hisoka would have to start all over again. The man spoke in riddles, yet Hisoka found himself understanding the other's words.

Illumi wasn't after the money at all. In fact, it seemed as though he only used that as an excuse. Hisoka refused to admit what the other was truly after.

A distant sound of footsteps and falling debris echoed through the whole room, catching the attentions of the three Geneiryodan members inside. Franklin and Bonorenolf exchanged a glance and stood up. "Come, Hisoka," called Franklin.

Upon stepping outside, it took only a low amount of the other's nen to help Hisoka know where he was. Whether or not his companions felt him too, the magician wasn't sure. Holding out a single card in hand, he stepped towards the other room.

"Be careful," warned Franklin.

The thousand needles on his skin acted up all over again, and Hisoka asked himself again what it was that he was doing. But he turned back and regarded the two. "I'll be all right," he said and disappeared behind the door. From behind him, he could hear that same sound of footsteps, together with Franklin's and Bonorenolf's following it, probably inspecting it without him.

Ignoring the sounds behind him, Hisoka just kept his gaze ahead. And right there on one of the wooden crates sat an exact living replica of himself. In the dark, he could've sworn that the imitation was perfect. He had seen this trick before, but it was still so strange for him to see his face used in a mask.

From the other side, the other Hisoka smirked and took a step forward. Though seemingly undaunted, the real one took a hesitant step back upon taking a glance at those eyes. Those weren't the eyes of the magician that he sees in the mirror whenever he would check on himself. Those were still his eyes. The blank eyes of the assassin he knew, the same ones that visited him every time he would close his eyes, and they were looking at him with a strange expression in them.

So far, Hisoka was rooted on the spot. Whether it was because of the face he was presented with or the knowledge of who this really was, he wasn't sure. But needless to say, he remained still even when the few inches between them were closed and he felt warm lips touch his own. Narrow eyes widened at the contact, wondering if it would be considered a twisted kind of narcissism to find one's self enjoying the touch of somebody that looked exactly like his own face.

The figure pulled away and refused to meet Hisoka's eyes, even when Hisoka himself tried to grab hold of that slender wrist to demand an explanation. Footsteps echoed through the room as the false Hisoka walked out to meet the other Geneiryodan members, leaving the real one behind. The magician watched as the other disappeared, the needles on his skin centering mostly on his lips now. It took him all of his remaining rationality to remember that this was his chance to escape.

But he was mad. Even when he had jumped out of the window and made his way towards his destination, something in him pulled him on the inside, telling him of how much he missed that kiss.

* * * * *

How was it? Did you have him?

No. It was practically useless.

. . .

What, no taunting? Aren't you going to ask me how badly I screwed up?

No. You're angry right now. Tell me about it when we're looking at each other face to face.

What makes you think I want to see you?

You will listen to me. You're looking for someone to explain the answers.

And you think that that person is you?

One can never be too sure. But Hisoka, I'm the only one you have.

And I am the only one you have.

. . .

I don't want anything to do with you anymore.

Any last words?

. . .

I'm begging you.

* * * * *

He mentioned that he hated his tendency to obsess. Need he say it again now? Hisoka felt like shit and the weather's doing nothing to comfort his mood. The sky overhead was grayed black, constant thunders rumbling through the emptying streets as people around him ran for shelter.

He was starting to feel cold, tufts of hair plastered on his pale face. The rain ruined his hair's supposedly spiked appearance, but he didn't care about it right now. Right now, he was looking up at a building that towered in front of him, staring at one of the windows. He fancied he could see through the white curtain, and inside he could see the prone form of a familiar man lying on one of the beds, staring out at the falling sky, waiting for him.

He really didn't know why he was there. He had long convinced himself that he hated that certain man and would use all that he had just to get away from him in hopes to forget that he even existed. But the human body is a treacherous thing, and before he knew it, he found his way back to him, ready to fall all over again if necessary.

All his life he felt down and he needed comfort. He found that comfort only once.

* * * * *

I'm back.

I knew you would be.

* The End *

A/N: Congratulations for reading the fanfic this far! This'll be my last chance: Please review! ^.^

Important Note:
Yikes, I forgot to attach this note the first time I uploaded this chapter. Would anybody believe I dreamt of it last night?? Hisoka came to me as a reviewer and socked me on the head because he said that the fanfic wasn't completely concluded yet and he sounded like...er, "a fucking victim who came back to his master in the end" o.O That scared the living daylights out of me so here I am, 7 in the morning with only 5 hours of sleep but out of bed nonetheless ^^; Hisoka's creepy, and I think I'm losing my mind because of him.

Er, okay, so I've closed Hisoka. This fanfic has always been in Hisoka's point of view, and that's why chapter 5 ended this way. But there is more to be closed because Illumi still hasn't explained himself. There is still a closing chapter if anybody's interested. Kind of an Epilogue where he actually does tell Hisoka what the hell is up with him. I have it written down on some notebook, but I really liked the ending already . Please give me your feedback about it lest Hisoka comes to my dreams again and start messing my brain around.

That's it. I've done my job here and I'm going back to bed... *grabs her Illumi plushy, stalks off and grumbles about crazy clowns*