"I'm sorry that I have to detain you this way," Misaki explained in an indifferent tone that hardly seemed suitable for an apology, "though I did warn you that if you continued to behave so recklessly, I would be forced to defeat you."
Killua had only just opened his eyes to find himself fastened securely to a cross of sorts, probably a good two meters off the ground and composed entirely of broad sticks. His arms and legs were bound in an admittedly impressive hold through what appeared to be vines. The tying technique was difficult to decode and seemed genuinely challenging and well practiced. While he was almost certain that he could escape- having buckled chains in the past- it was fair to say that as far as make-shift restraints went, these would not be simple to sever.
The sunset blinded him unless he kept his head tilted low, and so the boy settled on scanning the scene below him. A small fire was glowing nearby, contained within a circular perimeter of reasonably large rocks, and a single occupant sized lean-to (also comprised of sticks and vines) was built just beyond it. Immediately before the flames, seated upon a gigantic orange-red rock with her knees angled up into her arms and her ankles awkwardly crossed, was the purple haired woman. The embers danced in her amber eyes as she inspected him quietly, her expression relaxed and neutral and her lips a thin, horizontal line. Strands of her hair were messily scattered and absent from her high ponytail, and her exposed forearm displayed a large, freshly forming scab; still crimson and glossy at the wound site.
Now Killua remembered the scuffle that had rendered him unconscious for the second time by Misaki's hand. While attempting to dive back in to the ocean to search for Gon, the girl had once again hindered him by clutching on to his elbow and twisting him in to a firm hold that left his arms useless. Despite his sincere surprise at her resourcefulness and ability to imprison him so easily, he did manage to hook her knee just enough to send her tumbling forward on to his back.
During that one second leeway he had anticipated, he expertly timed his response and extracted his claw with enough momentum to catch her off guard and pierce the skin of her left forearm. The attack was not quite as successful as he had imagined, as Misaki had apparently been at least somewhat prepared for his onslaught and used her legs to roll her body to the side and receive only a shallow blow comparatively.
Nevertheless, she'd succeeded at once again taking advantage of a pressure point of his which left him helpless and slumbering.
"I wasn't even trying," he protested, frowning.
"Neither was I."
A light breeze served as a thankful distraction from the tension of the verbal exchange.
"You must be starving," Misaki said.
Uncertain as to whether the statement were some sort of poor torture lead-in, Killua replied, "I can go a long time without food, it doesn't bother me."
"Just the other day you argued that if you were hungry, you should eat right away," she pointed out.
"That was for Gon's sake," he muttered uncomfortably.
Speaking the name of his missing friend caused a tight, shrinking sensation in his chest that nearly overwhelmed the former assassin with emotion. As he swallowed, a persistent lump in his throat blocked the path of his saliva painfully. To keep himself from shedding the tears that threatened to reveal themselves in his eyes, Killua clenched his jaw firmly.
Whether or not the girl noticed his inner turmoil was unclear, but regardless she offered, "If you're hungry, I'll feed you. I've already cooked octopus."
In his grief, Killua had overlooked the savory aroma of heated seafood that lingered in the air. Now that he was aware of it, his stomach openly betrayed him and gurgled loudly. Misaki smirked every so slightly at the sound, though she refrained from any expected ridicule.
"You're going to feed me while I'm tied up here?" Killua asked, and his voice was undeniably startled as his cheeks tinted a mute pink at the thought.
The girl cocked an eyebrow.
"As you've said before, I'm not your mother," she answered as she positioned herself behind him.
She released a solitary knot on both the arm and leg restraints, and the remainder collapsed without further encouraging. Not quite foreseeing such a sudden and simple liberation, he dropped ungracefully to his knees, only marginally easing the impact of the fall with the palms of his hands against the beach.
"I'm taking a risk by allowing you to join me for your dinner like this," Misaki continued. "I do hope you won't disappoint me by attempting glorified, 'heroic suicide' again."
Killua shot her a dangerous glare as he took a chunk of meat in his hand channeled his irritation to bite in to it rather savagely. He seated himself on the aforementioned rock by the fire, and the girl joined him, her palms pressed against the warm side which faced the flames.
"Is it acceptable?" she asked, breaking the silence after he'd swallowed a few consecutive bites.
"Yeah, it's alright," he mumbled between mouthfuls, avoiding eye contact now.
"Why would you do something so stupid, anyway?" Misaki questioned.
Although his blood was boiling, Killua was quite sure that she didn't actually mean specifically to be offensive. He was beginning to understand this about her; that she was simply asking because she did not know. There was a similarity between them that he had not wished to acknowledge, and perhaps he still desired to block it out slightly, and this affinity ultimately relied on survival as the key.
Both attempted to logically approach situations and were willing to leave behind others if it appeared that there was no rational way for both themselves and the third parties to survive. When it came to a scenario in which it was simply one or the other, the answer was always to abandon the other. There were few to no qualms about killing an opponent, and deep rooted emotions were purposefully masked.
Gon was Killua's exception, however. Misaki could not comprehend this, and considering his past, the ex assassin did secretly at least partially sympathize with this. In the same instant, Misaki was clearly hiding something that he felt he had officially uncovered through this flood of woven thoughts.
"You're an assassin," Killua accused sternly, now boring his hard stare in to hers in lieu of responding to her question.
"Oh? What makes you think so?" she asked, seemingly unbothered by the allegation.
"Well," he began, his voice still authoritarian-dipped, "you know about pressure points that most people wouldn't, and you have no problems killing. Your footsteps are so quiet that I didn't even hear you in the forest in Berraudney when you were following us, and you would've had to be pretty close to jump out and block that attack. You separate yourself from the group and don't say anything personal about yourself at all. I'm thinking you're an assassin, and if I'm wrong you would have corrected me by now."
Misaki smiled.
"You're a sharp one," she said calmly. "I did used to have contracts for assassination before I took up Archaeological Hunting. I was a small scale Contract Hunter that did odd jobs here and there; lab assisting, building, beast hunting, body guarding, and occasionally playing 'arm candy' for some of the big wigs in the underground."
"Won't people be after you then?" Killua asked cautiously.
Misaki shrugged.
"I'm not an assassin anymore," she lied, "but I do tend to keep my guard up all the time."
Killua let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"I quit, too," he admitted quietly. "My whole family is nothing but assassins."
"Oh, then you're a Zoldyck?" Misaki asked, feigning surprise.
"Yeah," he mumbled, clearly unhappy about it. "What made you decide to quit the business, anyway?"
The girl's amber eyes ran over the glowing embers for several moments before she responded.
"I just decided that Archaeological Hunting was more apt to my personal interests. What about you?"
"I just didn't want to anymore," he shrugged. "I didn't want to inherit the family business, so I ran away. I went back for a little while, but I'm glad that I left."
"I ran away from home once," Misaki admitted.
"Really?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. "I was about ten and my parents were hard off for money, so I ran away to find a job to help out. I figured I'd make lots of cash, and then come home and surprise them with it. It was pretty selfish, I guess. I didn't even stop to think that they might miss me."
"So were they upset about it then?"
"I don't know," she whispered, her eyes and voice softening drastically for the first time since encountering the boys, "I never saw them again after that."
Killua shifted awkwardly in his seat. Despite his curiosity, he was too uncomfortable to pry further in to the situation. After a moment Misaki turned and smiled at him.
"We should turn in. You can take the shelter, I made it with you in mind," she said indifferently, nodding toward the lean-to. Just as Killua stood, she added gently, "Hey, I know all families can be pushy and selfish sometimes, but try not to take them for granted. You never know what might happen tomorrow or the day after that."
She corrected her posture and mimed a "salute".
"…From one ex-assassin to another," she said in a slightly mock-dutiful tone.
In spite of himself, Killua smiled and nodded back to her, returning the salute lazily before crawling in to the small shelter for the evening. This left Misaki alone before the remnants of the fire pit, gazing dreamily in to the waves of smoke as she pondered the line that separated her honest lies from her half-truths.
A single, silent tear rolled down and off her cheek before she, too prepared for sleep.
A/N: Thanks again to those reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. :)