It is Morel who walks through the house, who wipes his fingers through dust and lowers his head when he steps through the door. It is he who walks, careful as a cat, over scattered gungi pieces and a shrivelled corpse, bones poking through like bicycle spokes. And it is his lip that curls in disgust as he bends, one huge hand covering the entirety of her skull.

Unbidden, his pipe rides up from his shoulders like a dark thing brushing free of the ocean waves, before it jostles the ceiling with a bump. The motion is only halfway intentional and smoke immediately floods out of the end, drifting down to collapse into two light-grey forms that kneel beside Morel's large legs. Without a word they gather her up between them and carry her through to the outside world. Morel himself, has no time for grave-burying.

Instead he notes the lack of clutter, the piles of uneaten food, complete with useless wheat and flour, both grown bad with the dark green liquid that spills over the bags they nestle within. And then his eye catches a book, its pages riding up over the bump of a pen wedged in between like a makeshift bookmark. Morel's brow furrows as he opens it up to read names and the careful ramble of thoughts that spill out in its wake.

'Green is a natural colour, one reflected in leaves and plants the world over. It is a hue that the world has chosen to paint itself with, something that life has chosen to weave itself inside. But I have done things in my time as king, things that some might argue would render me unworthy of it. So is it perhaps relief that touches me now? Now, whenever I look at her, and see that her skin will never be the same shade as my own. Though it is still green enough, if I may borrow Komugi's words, for me to see myself reflected there.

Is it still borrowing from Komugi too, now that I agree with the name she has chosen for our child? I am almost loathe to write it down, for if someone should read this...if you should read this, you will not understand the context behind the word. Even if you play gungi.

We named our child after a technique Komugi once had to leave behind, in order to grow. I suppose that in turn, is very much like life itself. And that is what I want for my child. A life.

But what shall she leave behind as she does? I already know what I am leaving. And I am leaving soon.

I was named for the light, for something that even now, I feel as though I have barely began to grasp. Komugi was named for the wheat that grows in fields, for her family's livelihood. And my daughter was named for our history. Because it was not only Komugi who grew when she had to snuff out her own creation. It was I as well, years later, when I re-crafted (Komugi would say re-birthed, I suppose) the very same move, Kokoriko, though at the time I knew it by another name.

I do not know your name, you who are reading this ramble of unsightly thoughts. But perhaps you will care to know mine. It is Meruem. And if they are still here, if Komugi and Kokoriko still live, perhaps you will be kind enough to ensure they stay that way.'

It is hard to think of the former Chimera ant king as rueful. But that is the emotion that infuses these words and Morel can imagine a harsh tone, forced into something steady and perhaps sounding a little lost, with a tinge of something close to regret. Either way...

Morel closes the book firmly and stares at the corner, at the shrunken head of someone who once, was practically un-killable. He almost, almost casts another puppet free from his pipe. But then he catches himself, something in his motion stuttering to a stop as his fingers uncurl from the pages, one of them giving a last, tentative brush over words that he is only the second person to have ever seen. And he finds himself glad suddenly, that he is the hunter that he is. He can think of many in the organisation who would not have given this book another thought, some who might have crumbled it between their fists and then torn it apart. In times like this, he is glad to be gentle.

The very opposite, in fact, of Hisoka. For Morel can see a traces of the man here, an obvious signal that declares himself the victor in the game of tracking down the one creature that faced Netero and lived to walk away. And it is left there, around the head, in a spillage of playing cards that brush around the contours of the skin, as though in parody of a summoning circle. Each one holds the image of a king within, his robes tucked in not only by the framed borders, but by the red love hearts that contrast each other in opposing corners. It makes Morel sick.

But still, he heaves himself to his feet, barely a shudder in his steps as he walks over to Meruem's head. He barely takes in it's wrinkled browness or the way it sits, a solid weight on the floor that does not stir, even when his feet cause dust to lift and gather close. He could compare it to rotten fruit, could see it as nothing more than a putrid smear of something that could have been a majestic god, one to usher in a new era fraught with human fear; but that would be too poetic. He simply lowers himself as though in prayer, carefully scooping up the small, whittled thing as though his palms are dipping for water, steady, as though frightened to let even a drop escape. To his skin it feels strange, like a half-broken turtle shell that sags, almost willing to break and burst. There are not even any clumps of hair for his fingers to fasten onto and this alien absence is enough to make him to frown. For Morel has grasped hold of disembodied heads before. But never one like this.

He tuts.

'He didn't even bother to shut your eyes.'

It doesn't matter though. Morel will shut them for him. Right after he finishes digging a second grave, this time, with his own two hands.

Something short this time, like an interlude. I thought about about putting more in, but there was an abrupt scene change and it felt incrediably jarring to read after Morel was being...kinda reflective?

Also, regarding the queen's name. Originally, it was gonna be completely something different, to do with the colour green, like 'Midori' or 'Verte'. But as I thought it over (and I've had MONTHS, it's ridiculous) I felt uncomfortable with the way it seemed to cut out Komugi's outlook of the world. And well, 'Kokoriko', as Meruem puts it, reflects something incrediably important to both of them. It's also not very original, but whelp, what is these days?