The consignment shop was cluttered with objects of all sizes and colors. The girl backed away from a shelf only to bump into a hat stand. A beret fell by her bare feet.
When she stepped out, a sweater fitted snugly against her frame. Her tattered dress was forgotten for a pair of black pants and oxfords. She adjusted her beret before it could fall down her face, then looked at Gon expectantly.
"You look great!" Gon said, arms extended.
After a clumsy first step, she rush to his side again, where she would tag him like a shadow for the remainder of their journey across town. In between the food and shopping, Gon gave her the distraction she needed. And when that was not enough, a squeeze of her hand brought her attention back. The sadder her expression, the brighter he smiled, as if by doing so he could transfer some of his warmth to her.
"Oh right, I still don't know your name!" Gon tapped a finger against his chin. "Hm…"
An idea struck him.
He pulled her towards one of the blackboards in the main transportation terminal. He handed her a piece of chalk. Just because she lost her voice did not mean there were not other ways for her to speak!
His excitement quieted after seeing her stand in place, staring blankly at the various announcements and advertisements.
"What's wrong?" Gon asked when she returned the chalk. He tried to give it to her again, only to receive it back. Gon's brain fumed, not understanding. After a prolonged silence, one that involved much awkward standing, he finally figured it out.
"You can't read or write, can you?"
When she shook her head, Gon hung his. Now that he thought about it, Kite did mention something about poor literacy rates back when the group was researching NGL. Not that he had paid much attention; he assumed anything he missed, Killua would have caught.
Thinking of Killua made his stomach knot again, that strange, unwelcomed feeling bubbling somewhere deep inside him. He fought the urge to check his phone again.
Instead, he forced all of his focus on the person who needed him right now, who he could help.
"Okay, how's this, I'll just… pick one out for you!"
It was her turn to be dumbstruck, as Gon scanned his surroundings for inspiration. Finally, his gaze landed on the embroidery of her beret. Despite its age, the threading remained vibrant, of the same color as her hair, as his aunt's favorite summer blouse. He recognized the bird.
"Fenix."
She blinked once, before a blush crept up her cheeks. However, Gon gave her no time to object, already looking for a chalk again, to show her how to write her new name.
"Ah thanks!" Gon accepted one from a woman who had just finished her own message. The chalk barely touched the board when he noticed something.
"My answer to what?" he asked before the woman could leave.
Gon was greeted by a bloodshot eye peering out from a curtain of thick, wiry hair. Skeletal fingers gripped onto the hem of her dress, as the woman stopped to stare at the duo.
"Killua and…" Her eyes rolled over from the boy to the girl. "Gon…?"
Her lips thinned, dry and cracking. No. Something was wrong. This was not what she envisioned.
"Gon," she tried again, this time directed at the boy in the cast. "And…"
Her aura contorted, as she stressed to piece together the image before her. In the place of white was red. In the place of blue was black. Something was wrong. This was not what she envisioned.
Her teeth gnawed, as Palm raised her chin.
"Why don't I see Killua?"