Author's note: For those who are annoyed by sugary randomness, I apologise for Kawari's sleeptalk ¿ Personally I think it's cute; just a bunch of nonsense...or is it? o,O¿
(hehehe for those with common sense, I'll let you answer that on your own)
also uhm... ¿9.9 Hisoka has a little too much fun with the riddle...
Nothing too horrible, it just comes off as a bit TOO creepy xx¿
(soemtimes I wonder if I push him too far T,T¿)
but you still love me right?
Disclaimer: Come on with my funds?
:moth flies out of her wallet:
IfIcan't buy the rights to HunterxHunter, what makes you thinkI OWN it?
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The Magician and the Fool: Capitulo Oito
2:36am glowed green on the nightstand when he slipped in the door. Their meeting in actuality only cost him about an hour, but he had walked leisurely back to the apartment. The room was deathly quiet; save a soft rhythmic breathing still bundled in the makeshift hammock. Hisoka eased the door shut behind him with a click and yawned. "Cute strategy Nazo-chan…but it takes much more that a few all-nighters to bring me down" he chuckled in a daze to himself and slid his shirt off. He kicked off his shoes next to the cloth and scratched his head until the gel loosened up. Finding his way back into the sheet the magician tried to simulate his position beforehand, as if to hide that he'd ever left.
"Nnngh….Hisoka…? What the hell are you doing up…?" Kawari turned her head groggily, noticing the warmth next to her again "…you're late…the tea party already started…an' the tanuki ate your sweet cake though…I forgot…." She yawned still wandering in her own dream. "If you like butterscotch though…you can go to…switzerville…that's right…that's what they call it…the mice, they do."
Hisoka snickered at her sleep talk, she wasn't conscious at all. He felt his eyes get heavy as he settled down and thought about what transpired. "Night-night Nazo-chan…you live to sleep tonight" his voice trailed off into Kawari's neck. Soon the magician drifted off to sleep there, lying in bed, with sweet dreams of murder-plumbs dancing in his head.
"Night-night Magician…" Kawari yawned.
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"DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT MAYBE LIVING THINGS HAVE TO EAT!" the blow of an empty box to his head woke him. "No wonder you're so pale are you anorexi—AAIII!" she stopped short, silenced by the hands of several thudding sounds similar to that of knives sticking into the wall.
"You have such a habit of waking me so rudely…" Hisoka groaned and rubbed his eyes.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!" Kawari continued, not at all pleased with her new position.
"Oh so you are alive?" Hisoka chuckled and got up from the bed. "Half asleep, my aim is a little sloppy" he smiled to the annoyed girl, cards nailing her to the wall by cutting through her loose clothing.
"LET ME GO YOU BASTARD!" Kawari squirmed vainly to get free from the overall-humiliating situation (considering her feet didn't even touch the ground). Even she knew how smug he was becoming at her disposition.
"Tsk tsk, she abuses me with words…" he whined, a devilish grin curling over his lips. "Mmmmn…why should I? You can't move can you? Pinned up like a crayon drawing…why, I could just have you all to myself now couldn't I?" he whispered low, although he had such a teasing playfulness in his voice.
She flinched as his hands moved along her waist, trying to pull away from the cards. He only grew closer, sharp narrow eyes cutting into hers with such darkness. "…YOU JUST TRY THAT AND YOU'RE GOING TO BE LUCKY IF THEY FIND ENOUGH OF YOU TO PUT IN A PLASTIC BAG!" she barked. And as if by magic, the cards that held her fell from the wall, fluttering to the floor like ordinary paper. Kawari marveled at the event for a moment with wide eyes, then gave Hisoka a fierce smack across the face. "Now if you don't MIND…I am going grocery shopping!" she panted, drawing back to her original point and strutted toward the door in a huff.
Hisoka straightened up after the blow, his ivory skin a faint pink from her hand. That grin had never left his face, but now it was lighter and childlike. "Can I come too honey?" he chuckled sweetly, loving how much he could make her blush.
"JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK!" Kawari roared and answered him with a window-shaking slam of the door.
Hisoka continued to chuckle to himself and put his mind back on that bottle. He pulled it out from under the bed and examined it. Never taking his eyes from the object, he set it down on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite. It looked the same as the night before: your average spray-bottle of 409, a surface cleaner, about ten inches tall and three or so wide, same size as the rest; so what was the message? It had no markings that the eye could see; no cuts or twists in the plastic. Just a colorful label promising to kill some menial percentage of germs. He looked the bottle over and over, reading its ingredients, instructions, cautions and any other text that might serve as a clue.
"Nazo-chan…" he growled, a strange way of showing frustration, and got up from the couch. Killing her would be a very sweet treat after this. Not that this was particularly brain teasing, just tedious and nit-picky (although the clown had no reason to become so tense, he'd only been sitting for about seven minutes). Hisoka came back with a pen and notepad, setting it on the table next to the bottle, but he himself still stared it down as if it would somehow rear up and devour the materials. Sharp hazel eyes circled it again and again; why was it so hard for two weirdoes to have similar thought process? And why was he becoming so antsy? Hisoka was the master of the waiting game, he usually sat or held one pose for hours on end, so why were these minutes annoying? He just needed something to start on, anything. He could easily predict her plans if he knew where they started. He'd been able to know an enemy's moves before they even made them; hers were just more…sporadic.
ADD or no, something should be out of the ordinary. But that was just it: everything was ordinary. Was that the message? See through the mundane? That what you're looking for is right under your nose? No. That was much too easy. He sat down and reviewed what was said the night before. He had spoken with her, and her responses were quite strange, seeming to make no sense. But isn't it the wisest to say foolish things? Deeper meanings. Everything had a deeper meaning, and Hisoka could often see that. But what was deep about a window cleaner! It had fit well in their joke, that she paid scrupulous attention to detail and covered her tracks in murder, but she wouldn't have left it if she didn't mean for something else to be said. Why? Why cleaning products? Perhaps to cleanse? To purge of sin? And why this brand specifically? Why 409? 409. That was it.
"Pin Pon" a long-awaited grin curled over his lips as he looked at the purple numbers. It was so simple, plain as day. Many clues had numbers in them, perhaps solved by means of equations. Although she really didn't seem like the type to obsess with math. No. Based on things up till now her patterns seemed simple to the naked eye, but if one dug deep enough it all made sense. Either way, simple was the way to go. Hisoka scribbled down on the paper, adding the digits together, matching them to the English and Japanese alphabet: 13, D and I, e and ke respectively. He furrowed his eyebrows, altogether it didn't make much sense, but it would. He would make it make sense.
Thirteen was an unlucky number. D and I could change into ID card or put together it sounded out "die" which could mean both deceased, or a pair of dice, or even pair in general. E could mean several things: a handle or a shaft of something, or a painting. It could even serve as the prepositions: to, for, on, and in. And ke could just as easily mean a strand of hair, a sign or indication, or the ending to a family name. Hisoka played it out in his head with an annoyed look: The Ke family died because each member had a pair of hairs that saw a bad painting of dead dice and burnt their hand on a pan-shaft ID #13...A wild scribble followed a low growl again. He was thinking too hard.
It had to be simple, or at least start out that way. The way had to be straight too, he was considering all of his options when he should just find one that sticks out the most and pick details from the rest. Let's try again: Four oh Nine. "Foro nain" he repeated back to the voice in his head, teasing it by straining a western accent. Wait. Foro nain. Follow nine. That was a pretty good lead.
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"So what are we going to do?" Cici sat on the edge of the large oak desk and looked the same article over and over, as if the words would change back to normal and things would be okay.
"The only thing we can do…just let her sit well with this man and see where it takes us" Veto nodded, not as cheery as before.
"You know you're just sending her blind into this…" Cici swatted the newspaper down on the desk with a glare. "Just like last time"
"Don arranged that and you know it" Veto retorted, starting to grow a little hostile himself. The last agreement hadn't ended on such lovely terms.
"But you oversaw it…there was easily something you could have done to stop it!" Cici turned to face him from across the desk and snarled.
"It's in the past I can't do anything about it now. And he's dead… Why do you care?" Veto returned, not so much the kind old man as before. "Let it be…just let things take their course…" he rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"EXCUSE ME?" Cici didn't even give the man time to react. "This is GABRIELLE we're talking about old man! Not just some cheap floozy…You said yourself we were like daughters to you! So how can you make her run the gauntlet twice! HOW CAN YOU?" she grabbed him by the collar and shook him, tears starting to stream down her face.
"Cecilia don't be hysteric!" he took her hands from his collar and held them. "Gabrielle is very dear to me, as are you. But that is no reason to keep you polished and prim on a feathered pillow! I would not send her to continue this if I were not confident in her abilities." He reasoned with Cici, always with a hard stare. The same stare both Gabby and Cici had grown to know and grown to know what's behind that stare: concern. "Should something of ill-intent occur, Gabrielle could fight him off or find other methods. Until then I want to keep an eye on this man, so that when he comes we'll be prepared"
"What do you mean…when he comes?" Cecilia backed up, already knowing the answer.
"Hunters seek out other hunters…that is the way of this world" he sat back down and bowed his head. "He'll come to kill us all someday…it's just a question of when and if Gabrielle can delay him"
"I knew since I met that chick she'd become a martyr…" She faced the ground with a light shaken laugh "either because she was a drama queen on her own accord, or because she wants to please people to a fault." Cecilia fell into one of the leather chairs in front of the desk holding her brow in her hand. "…I just don't want to loose her"
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The notepad was covered in notes and scribbles. Pieces of paper had been crumpled and torn and thrown all about the place. Bed sheets were ripped from the mattress and balled up in a corner on the floor. Several blue cards stuck in the wall like knives, and there stood the bottle in perfect peace, perfectly set in its perfect place for perfect examination. Against the wall leaned a quivering magician; his eyes wide, his lips moving without speech mumbling incoherent things about god knows what. His hands grasped the wall as if he would be torn away from it so easily; His body was bruised in some places and even some places bleeding. "Such a riddle…Aaahhhhn…" His voice shook and rasped as he said, his eyes focused at neither the floor nor the wall. A thick bash sounded against the wall. "Such a test …Ohhhh…" Again he rammed his head into the wall, all the while that wicked grin never left his lips. "It makes me hurt…oh yes…hurts so bad…" He continued to gasp into the wall, slamming his head hard against it once more. "And when we…ohhh…when we shall fight YES! It will be delicious…" another thump against the wall and a horrible laugh.
Now these were the times in which we wondered how exactly this man has managed to stay alive? It seemed he took terrible pleasure in terrible pain, and in this instance, he had racked his brain to find near fifty ways to solve this puzzle. However none fit the bill…at least none in his eyes. It's times like this we also ask ourselves, why is he the way that he is? Did something so horrible and mind-numbing happen in his past that could turn a sane man's world completely topsy-turvy? And is he truly so strange? Or is it all just an act to cover something else up? It's a very elaborate act if so, but then again, Hisoka does indeed take everything in deep thought and scrupulously planned dramatics does he not? Either way I'm afraid we shall never know the truth unless he walks up to us one fine morning and decides to confess, no? For those readers who indeed fancy such a meeting, I'll not stop your dreams. But do heed my word: it is not so of Hisoka to say such things so openly.
Or perhaps that's what he wants? The cunning magician's always out to confuse and surprise people; he simply thrives on the unexpected. So wouldn't he one day, take a gullible soul round the park and fabricate such an intricate lie that could be possible to explain everything? Perhaps that would sate said soul, and perhaps not. Whether or not any of this occurs, one thing is still on our minds: Just how screwed up is this guy? You've seen already that he would be just dandy to lay in a bed of broken glass, and much before that he would take such pleasure in watching over his Apple. Fighting with Gon and waiting for him to grow; hunting down Kuroro; everything caused him such time, effort and pain! But then…those were the times he was most impassioned. Which brings to mind a question: Is Hisoka merely an over zealous masochist? Or does he really mix the lines of pain and lust, of power and happiness, of murder and pleasure, of satisfaction and self-destruction? It seems so at the moment…based on the way he smiles when he bleeds, on his moans and the way his voice shakes, on the way his body tremors to control itself, on that crazed look in his crystalline eyes.
The crashes gained a rhythm. His grin only widened. He mumbled at first but soon his voice rang out, bashing back at him from the walls.
"Yes…" Crash. "That's the way…"
"That kind of thinking…" Crash.
"Foronain" Crash. "Net"
"Tarantula" Crash. "Aluminum"
"Mint" Crash. "Tower"
"Ringo" Crash. "Operation"
"Ninja" Crash. "Art"
"train…" At last he stopped. Pin-pon.
End Capitulo
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Aha, now the OCD comes into play!
This is just the beginning of an extremely annoying series of linked thoughts to solve the riddle, all caused by a cleaning product XD
(simple things come from simple minds)
The head-crashing-into-the-wall thing is actually (well, my best try at) a Japanese word game,
you know, the one where you start with one word, and then make another word beginning with the last letter of the last word and so on?
Yeah...If you're confused now, you might want to skip until Hisoka gets to the train station, it gets VERY anal -¿ ehe
Review please!