Ch. 6

Both dark haired killers looked at the lifeless man who lay bleeding at the entrance of the cottage. Illumi's face, per usual, showed no signs of shock at what had just happened. However, as Palm studied the assassin more closely, she noticed that the muscles in his arm were twitching ever so slightly. "Uh oh", she thought, taking a step back. Illumi turned toward the girl, blinking slowly. Although Illumi's facial expression was one of disinterest, Palm could see the rage in his eyes.

"I allow you- no. I make the mistake of allowing you to stay in my private cottage temporarily, and I come home to this?" The young assassin spoke in a low tone, expressing each syllable of each word with pinpoint accuracy. "What the hell is wrong with you? An animal could have kept this place in better condition than you have." His voice executed each word like a flash of lightning. He stepped toward Palm. "Dispose of this body," Illumi commanded, staring intensely at the girl. She looked up and dared to meet his gaze. "Now." He finished.

Palm rushed over to the dead man to complete her task. She whisked the body out of the way, her long hair rippling behind her in an effort to keep up with the rest of her. When the door closed, and he heard her retreating, Illumi leaned up against the wall, closed his eyes, and sighed. His thin lips formed a slight frown as he rubbed his aching temples with his fingers. "At least I have a little time before she returns," he thought as he made his way into the bedroom. The young assassin laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling above. His eyes traced the cracks in the paint, blinking slowly as he unknowingly drifted off into a deep sleep.

Illumi found himself surrounded by a thick mist. He could not find his bearings, no matter how hard he tried to sense the unseen world around him. His eyes darted around as he realized that he could not move anything else. At the peak of this panic, the mist began to lessen as he found himself in a familiar place- his old playroom. A large figure appeared where the doorway should have been. The muscular man with long, silver hair, directed his words at the ground, "Illumi," he called, his voice reverberating off the walls. "you have served me well as firstborn. But the silver haired one has arrived." Illumi tried to call out, but found that he had no voice. "You have pleased me thus far, my son," the figure continued, "but the little one shall receive the fruits of your labor. Now, would you like to meet your baby brother?"

The figure turned around and took a bundle from a pair of gloved hands. He turned back, the bundle's shadowy face just out of view. "This is the heir of the Zoldyck family," The wallpaper began to slowly peel off the walls. The room was wilting like a flower. "Killua." The name echoed in Illumi's ears, growing louder and louder until he thought his head was going to bust open. The room grew dark and his vision faded to black.

Illumi snapped out of his sleep in a cold sweat. He forced his eyes open as wide as they possibly could, although it felt like each eyelid had weights attached to it. Through the sheer curtain, he could see the light of dawn pour into the room as the smell of breakfast registered in his mind. What was that all about, he thought. Gradually, Illumi closed his eyes and turned over onto his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He nestled into his heat burrito. Breakfast… he thought, smiling gently into his pillow. Wait… breakfast?! Illumi's eyes shot open and jumped to his feet, swiftly rushing out of the bedroom.

Before his very own eyes, Illumi Zoldyck witnessed a cleaner Palm Siberia standing in the middle of his kitchen, cooking eggs and bacon. "Goodmorning, Illumi", she smiled at him. "Nice to see that you're alive". She flipped the breakfast food onto two plates and set them down on the table, all while Illumi absorbed everything that was happening. His cottage was spotless, and Palm had cooked for him. And he had also been stupid enough to sleep while a strange woman was in his house. How could I let my guard down like that? He thought. Though try as he may, Illumi could not bring himself to be angry. After all, nothing awful had come of his sudden weakness.

Illumi sat down across from Palm as she poured salt onto her eggs. The salt piled on the surface. Illumi picked up his fork and took a bite out of his own eggs, which she had clearly already salted. He worked through the slight unpleasant taste of her overzealous seasoning and ate silently as he listened to Palm going on about how well she had scrubbed down every inch of this place, as well as herself. She discussed almost every detail that occurred during his unconscious hours. Almost every detail.

She of course, kept to herself the fact that she had put a few blankets over the assassin's sleeping body, as he had fallen asleep on top of his quilts. She kept to herself the feeling of her hand brushing against his pale skin as she covered him, and also as she made sure his blackened heart was beating under his clothing. His heartbeat had been unnaturally slow against her palm, and his clothing surprisingly soft.

As Illumi sipped his, as usual, black coffee, he found himself feeling oddly at ease. He leaned back into his chair, abandoning his typical straight-as-an-arrow posture, and took a deep breath.