Tomorrow.
Hisoka's shoulder felt as if it'd been shredded from the inside with a set of beater blades. But he just had to train Gon that afternoon, and then the next day was Gon's dodgeball tournament, and the day after was his fight with Kastro, and then he could—well, he couldn't rest very long. He couldn't give Chrollo that satisfaction. I'm still me despite your pathetic attempt to disarm me, Chrollo.
"If you keep working so hard—" Netero's voice interrupted.
Oh, for fuck's sake. Hisoka gritted his teeth as he turned around. "Do you live here?"
"Across the street, actually." He wiped his forehead. His tank top really was too tight and too sweat stained. Hisoka wrinkled his nose. "But if you keep working so hard, you'll run your body into the dust, Hisoka."
"I'm here for a good time, not a long time," Hisoka recited with a wink. Especially if that meant he turned out like Netero. Though dying didn't really appeal to him either.
"Then you're a fool," said Netero.
"A clown," Hisoka corrected. He gave a mock-bow. "I'm sure you'll still be here when I return with my young friend this afternoon." His hair, damp, stuck to the back of his neck.
"Indeed."
Oh, brother. This idiot was going to insist on being holier-than-thou, wasn't he? Well, being holy wasn't a contest Hisoka was ever going to sign up for, so Netero was stupid. Hisoka couldn't resist. "Maybe you should take more care of your arthritic body, then."
Netero snorted. "You don't need to train so hard. Kastro won't mind postponing the match, you know."
Hisoka blew out his breath, shoving his shirt into his gym bag. "I'm not doing it because of Kastro. He's not worthy of my consideration; he doesn't have a chance." That's more something you would worry about, but I'm not you, and that's where you can't understand me. I'm me.
"Well, you're certainly not doing it for yourself."
Hisoka paused, towel in his hand. The fabric suddenly felt rough, coarse against even the calloused skin of his fingers. "On the contrary." He wouldn't let anyone say Chrollo had gotten the better of him. He hadn't. Chrollo cheated like the cowardly skunk he was. He even looked like a skunk, with that ridiculous coat and the pretentious combover he insisted on in college to make a statement. At least that was gone now. He'd be less appetizing to fight when he looked so ridiculous.
It's for me. I'm taking this Kastro fight and then the next and the next and the next as practice until I defeat Chrollo too.
"What more do you have to prove?" Netero asked.
"Hm?" Hisoka rolled the towel up and grabbed his water bottle. He glugged some down. The cool liquid calmed his throat. His heart still pounded and he didn't like it, a reminder that something other than his own willpower kept him alive.
Netero managed a small smile on that wrinkled face. "I mean, Hisoka-kun, you may have been drugged and shouting nonsense, but you still managed to land enough blows on Chrollo Lucilfer to fracture his rib."
Hisoka blinked. I did? He hadn't known that.
"I know you can't remember," said Netero. "But I should tell you I treated both of you that day. He was not unharmed. Even drugged, you fought well. Don't throw your body and your mind away for—"
"Don't tell me what to do," Hisoka snapped. "I do what I want." Had the idiot actually had the nerve to call him Hisoka-kun? You arrogant assuming bas—
Netero held his hands up, fingers spread apart. "You have so much more potential than this. I don't like seeing such potential wasted."
Gon appeared in Hisoka's mind. He could punch Netero. Are you trying to use my own— Hisoka gritted his teeth. "I don't like sanctimony. Keep it up and you'll find out what it's like to be on my bad side."
"Don't let Chrollo define your life," said Netero, easing himself down on the wooden bench with a sigh.
"I won't," said Hisoka. "That's why I'm going to prove it didn't matter. And I'm going to get him back."
"Why do you have to be the strongest?"
Why?
Because the strongest survive.
And the strongest have the best chance of smiling and feeling the sun against their skin.
Because strength got you food, or at the very least bungee gum to chew to feel like you had food in your stomach, and a place to sleep. Strength meant not being chased down. Strength meant an end to alleys and to unnecessary, humiliating pain. Strength meant a challenge, because you could always become stronger. Strength was a rope attaching him to life—no, not just attaching him, but gum sticking him to life, letting him feel things, letting him be a part while also looking down on the mess that was this whole goddamn fucking world. A mess with things still worth enjoying, feeling, bathing in.
"Because I am," Hisoka said.
The strongest survive.
The strongest don't cry, because they have no reason to cry.
The strongest don't need to hear no, because they can get what they want, no matter what.
The strongest live. Their hearts beat and their lungs fill.
"And because he's a coward," Hisoka added. Strength couldn't lose to cowardice.
Face me like a man.
Okay, he said, spitting blood, curling a broken fist. Lightning flashed above.
"Did you know," Netero said, leaning back on his hands. "That the most cowardly among us refuse to look at their own weaknesses?"
Hisoka snorted. "Maybe you should find a zen meditation center or someone who cares." He thought about patting Netero on the head, giving the man a slab of his own disgusting slimy condescension. But in his mood he'd probably bash the old man's skull in, and he didn't feel like calling Illumi to bail him out of jail. Chrollo would find it funny. And besides, it would be a waste for his shoulder.
Netero watched him go, a solemn look on his face.
He stepped into the parking lot, squinting in the sun. The air was much cooler than the azure sky hinted at. It felt good against his shoulder. He marched towards his car.
"Hisoka Morow!"
He skidded to a halt. A groan emerged. What was this, trample-on-fun day? First Netero and now this.
Biscuit Krueger stormed toward him, her scowl far too intimidating for a girl of her size.
"Why hello," he greeted her. "Come to gawk or—"
"Come to talk to you about the report—"
"It's fabricated, and you can address it with Gon Freecss if you don't believe me, since he was there." Hisoka fluffed his hair.
"You lie for fun; who would believe you?"
Hisoka rolled his eyes. "I'm off."
"No." Biscuit moved to block his path, her hands on her hips and pink eyes dark and glittering. She almost looked intimidating. "What did Silva ask of you?"
"Who said he asked anything?" Hisoka winked and sidestepped her.
She blocked his car door now. Oh, come on! He was very tempted to just pick her up and move her out of the way. "If you say something, it can help Illumi. They have hired the best lawyers, you know. Or hasn't your boyfriend told you?"
"He probably mentioned it." Or had he? Hisoka didn't recall those exact words. Just a plea bargain. Though it was entirely possible Illumi had brought it up and he just didn't recall.
Biscuit lasered her gaze on him. "Too busy focusing on fighting or whatever dick-measuring contest you're involved in now?"
Hisoka snickered. He hadn't expected to hear that word come from Biscuit Krueger's mouth.
"Did he offer you something, or ask you for information about Illumi?"
Hisoka crossed his arms. "A woman of your intelligence ought to already know that before asking."
"But you said nothing."
"Correct."
"Why?"
Why? Hisoka scowled. "Because I didn't want to. The Zoldyck parents want to make Illumi boring and—"
"Oh, shut it." Biscuit crossed her arms. "I suppose making a report to the police is not in the cards for you? Pun intended?"
"Nope." He moved towards the car.
She stepped to the side. "And if I asked you to refuse all contact with the Zoldyck parents and report whenever they attempted it again, because they will try again, you wouldn't agree, or at least, you wouldn't keep that agreement, would you?"
"I might." He unlocked the door. "Or I might not."
"Right," said Biscuit in disgust. "Depending on what you feel will be the most fun. Will Illumi be more interesting fighting a long court battle or once that burden is gone forever? You're so predictable. You're the one that's boring."
Hisoka stopped, glaring at her. The keys dangled from his hand.
"You never change," Biscuit informed him. "You'll grow more extreme in your exhaustive search for fun but that's not change. Now, change would actually be interesting, but instead you'll settle for a cheap substitute and fall down dead from exhaustion when you've broken yourself to the point where you can't take another step—no, to the point where you can't even drag yourself forward anymore. It's absolutely pathetic how boring you are, and no one will be interested in watching you lying face down in the dirt."
Hisoka slammed the car door and jammed the keys in the ignition. Biscuit Krueger was a stupid bitch who didn't know anything, stuck in her boring office job—
He gripped the wheel, tendons throbbing, shoulder screaming. He wanted to dump ice on it, make it stop. Feel less.
What is this?
I don't like it.
He thought of Illumi's words the night before, his questions. Hisoka swore. He'd seen numerous people at the end of their pathetic lives, clinging to anything, a bottle, a person's ankle, begging, dragging themselves, too stubborn to realize their lives were over.
I won't be like that. I'm strong. I will be strong. I will be the strongest.
He remembered watching a woman on the streets who said she'd been there for years, and wondering if this was all there was. And he saw a circus across the street, and refused to believe that. For that old crone, maybe.
Not for him.
"Hey," said Illumi when Hisoka and Gon showed up at the gym.
Please tell me Biscuit didn't call you. "Why are you here?" Hisoka greeted him. No, that wasn't good. He should be excited at the—
"We're all here," said Milluki. "I've been dragged away from shooting zombies with the promise of having my Nintendo returned. Illumi says Killua and Gon need to practice for a dodgeball game."
Kalluto smirked. Killua scowled as if he wasn't entirely okay with his siblings helping him.
Well, this could be interesting. Hisoka looked to Gon, who nodded.
"I also called your other—friends," said Illumi, the word friends stilted but still, said. "Leorio and Kurapika should be inside."
So Ruby Rage had decided to take an off day. Would wonders never cease.
"I had a date today at lunch," Gon announced. "A senior girl named Palm—"
"She's a creepy stalker!" Killua interjected.
Are you jealous? Hisoka smirked. Gon's fist flew towards Hisoka's face. Hisoka grabbed it. "That wasn't even a good try."
"Did you challenge him to punch you in the face?" asked Illumi.
"Why?" gasped Alluka.
"Long story."
"Why don't we do kids versus adults," Killua suggested. "Kalluto, Alluka, Gon, and me, plus Kurapika against-"
"Leorio probably doesn't want to be with us," said Hisoka. "So why don't we do Illumi, me, and Milluki against you?"
"So basically us against them," Illumi observed, tying his hair back and exposing his face and the back of his neck. Hisoka was getting turned on.
"Hey!" shouted Milluki. "I count!"
"Not really," Hisoka informed him.
"Really, if we went for Alluka, Killua would—but I—" Illumi stopped.
"It's a game, Illumi. It's not real life."
"Isn't life a game for you?" Illumi held the ball in his hand, a frown on his face. Kurapika hugged Gon and Killua. He ignored Hisoka. Leorio chattered about his biology class.
"When it suits me."
Killua took Milluki out first. He heaved a sigh of relief and went to the side to play on his phone, or whatever he was doing with that thing. Hisoka took out Leorio next, and then Alluka. Killua glared at him. Alluka was laughing, though, and went to watch whatever Milluki was doing.
Kalluto would be easiest, Hisoka was sure. Except Kalluto caught the ball, sending Illumi out. Illumi's jaw dropped.
"Avenge him," called Milluki, as if he was actually paying attention.
Me against everyone. Perfect. Hisoka decided not to go for Kalluto just yet. The little brat had a self-satisfied smirk and kept glancing at Killua for approval. Killua gave him a thumbs up and Kalluto looked as if he was in heaven.
Hisoka knocked Kurapika out with ease. Kurapika glowered. And then Kalluto got ready, because surely Hisoka would—but no, Hisoka targeted Killua. And then it was just Kalluto and Gon, and he could finally avenge Illumi.
Gon put up a decent fight, but Hisoka only toyed with him for about three minutes before putting an end to the game. Still, he should be good enough to defeat some loser at a high school.
"I think they had fun today," Illumi said later that night. "I hope they did. It's strange, to think about fun."
"It's strange to think about duty," Hisoka retorted.
Illumi arched his eyebrows. "Like I said. We're a good team."
Hisoka thought of Biscuit. Her words and Netero's circled him like a swarm of vultures and he wanted to shoot them down. "When's the hearing for your parents?"
"Two weeks." Illumi examined his hair for split ends.
"Was this all calculated?" Hisoka asked. "A dodgeball game to prove that you're a good parent for your siblings?"
Illumi blanched. "Isn't everything calculated—to an extent?"
Hisoka rolled his eyes. "You don't know how to care about anyone, do you? Not besides yourself." We're the same.
"It wasn't all for me," Illumi said. "Alluka even smiled."
"Do you even like her, like you said you did?" Hisoka pressed. How far could he push Illumi? When he wasn't aiming for—he didn't know what he was aiming for, but something, some kind of reaction, anything. "Or was that just the right answer?" What happened when you gave a wrong answer?
Illumi stiffened. He washed a glass out in the sink. "I do like Alluka. I'm just—getting to know her."
"But Killua's love for you is dependent on your love for her."
"I—"
"You're pathetic," said Hisoka. You're just like me.
No. I'm supposed to be different. No, we're the same. No.
Illumi slammed the glass down. It cracked. He glared at Hisoka. "You—"
"It's okay, isn't it?" Hisoka said. "Everything's calculated, to an extent, right? Like my being here is dependent on you being interesting."
"You said—"
"I lie. That's nothing new. I'm reconsidering whether or not you're interesting." Tell me. Tell me—tell me something, tell me—I hate this—I hate you—I hate—not you—I hate—
"Why are you being a bitch?" asked Illumi.
Why do you think you know me? Do you? Do you really want to? Why? "Don't be condescending. Your parents raised you better than that."
Illumi threw a glass of water at him. It splashed on his face. Finally. Hisoka stumbled back. "See," he managed. "You are your parents."
I hate me.
"And what about yours?" Illumi demanded, flexing his hand. Shame crossed his face. "What about yours? You won't say a word, but it doesn't take a genius to—"
Oh, fuck no. "I don't think about them because I prefer to forget." And he couldn't lose, not this, not this. "You need to cling. Like you're clinging to me because without your mommy and your daddy you're just—"
"Like you?" Illumi crossed his arms, squeezing himself as if to restrain himself. "Or is anyone allowed to be like you? Can't wait to see how you reinvent yourself. A corpse? An invalid because you had to fight Kastro over your stupid fucking—"
"Isn't it all about making Killua love you still? The Zoldyck business might be foundering but it's still all about him, except no, because it's all about you, because you can't accept that you aren't enough!" That wasn't even an interesting barb. It was a pathetic rotting fish he was using to slap Illumi with, because he had nothing left, and Illumi knew it.
This is who I am.
Biscuit and Netero's words echoed and echoed and echoed and he wanted to beat them to a pulp, make them stop, beat himself for caring.
You'll drag yourself...
Like now. He watched Illumi glare at him and knew Illumi saw through it.
"I'm not enough?" Illumi shook. "Tell me, Hisoka: when will you be enough? When will you have enough? Why do you still have to prove it? Who are you even trying to prove it to?"
I don't know how to answer that. Actually he did, but he was too afraid to lose this. "Not tonight, because I'm going home."
"Fine."
Fuck you. Hisoka couldn't say it. He slammed the door. He didn't feel better. He felt like gum stuck to the bottom of someone's shoe, and he couldn't cut himself free, and he felt dirty and he hated it.
It wasn't dependent on Illumi making it interesting. It was dependent on him finding it interesting. And he found Illumi interesting. And enough.
Fuck.
At least if Illumi hated him now he would be able to start over. But he didn't want that and he hated that. Hisoka blew out his breath. He pulled up at his house and stopped. "Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me."
Kikyo Zoldyck.
Why that one? She's awful and I'd feel bad for hitting her.
Hisoka didn't acknowledge her as he headed towards his house.
"Morow!" she yelled. "I wanted to—"
"No," Hisoka said. "I'm not helping you blackmail your son, okay?" He grabbed his phone in his pocket. He didn't care if it looked creepy. He pressed record.
"Not even if we gave you enough money to go wherever you wanted?"
"You really think money interests me? How lame." He yawned. "What would you even want me to say? Make up a sob story about how I saw Illumi abusing his siblings? Well, he did throw a dodgeball at them earlier today, but they were laughing. You know. Fun. Something you don't really seem to understand."
"You know he thought Alluka was even more dangerous than Silva and I—"
"I saw someone who knew his parents were the most dangerous people ever," said Hisoka, unlocking the door. "You know this is what you deserve, right? Come at me again and I don't care that you're a prim proper woman; I'll kick your ass." He shut the door.
He sent the recording to Biscuit Krueger. Hisoka leaned his head back against the wall. The fuck am I doing? Why?
Don't think why. Just do. He'd always been like that. Hisoka scowled.
His phone buzzed. Golden rage mushroom. "Kurapika?"
"I just thought you ought to know," said Kurapika. "I saw Silva Zoldyck talking to Chrollo Lucilfer. I don't know about what, but I'm sure we can all imagine. If they were watching the gym and saw you all today they might be getting more desperate—"
"Kikyo was just here, and I took care of that."
"Please tell me she's not in a dumpster somewhere."
"Please tell me Chrollo isn't either, or if he is at least I get to see him before you close the lid."
"You know," said Kurapika. "We're not that much different. They took everything that mattered to me." His voice shook.
Hisoka bit his tongue. His blood tasted good.
Everything that matters.
What is enough? When will it be enough?
Aw, fuck. Not yet, they didn't. "You have plans for tonight, Golden Rage Mushroom?"