Lingering somewhere between the realms of wake and slumber, Misaki breathed deep the damp, leafy scents of autumn (which the evening breeze gently wafted through the hotel window). With a weak smile, she channeled the heat radiating from the body at her side in the twisted, cotton sheets, using both sensations to lull her in to an oddly soothing bout of nostalgia.
'Ah yes, it was during the fall that I first met you, wasn't it?' she recalled inwardly, her lips twitching lightly as though she might nearly have dared to speak the thought aloud.
The year it had happened, Misaki had turned only twelve mere months before. It was admittedly much less of a celebration and more of a silent, personal acknowledgement. The difference of this particular date in comparison to the two previous was of course that while she had spent those prior birthdays in solitude, this was in fact the first that she had reached following the death of her parents.
Despite her self-imposed absence, there was something gut-wrenching the in realization that now there was definitely no home and worse, no family- which she had spent full, fruitless months' worth of hours imagining their reactions to the generous sum of money she was to lay out at their feet- to return to. There was nothing now, and somehow it seemed even worse that she had probably been smiling and dreaming of reuniting with her mother and father even long after they were (though not then to her knowledge), already gone.
This was easily the determining factor in her decision to ultimately accept contracts at the price of another's life, which she had been purposely avoiding up to now. The part of her that was grief-stricken found a sense of resolve in the decision to keep herself separate from human contact beyond that which was necessary to work and to refrain from forming actual bonds with others. Developing friendships could leave her fundamentally vulnerable, which must not be allowed. She would not feel this great burden of loss ever again.
The portion of her that was consumed by guilt- whether realistic, exaggerated or some combination of the two- opted to forget their faces as completely as possible. Of course, this was hardly effective during the first year, but after the passing of a few she found that the specifics of their features were nearly impossible to mentally reconstruct.
Then there was a very small, especially secret region of her psyche that swelled with anger. Some of this anger, in truth, was not pointed in any particular direction, while excerpts of it were fragmented in to jagged pieces which were perhaps a little too focused. She was irritated with herself for being selfish enough to leave under the premise of helping her family, meanwhile leaving them in a state she would nevermore be able to discover. She was bitter toward the apparent cause of their death, which she was unsure whether or not she ought to explore. Yet the worst collection of resentment aimed itself at those whom she had lost, enraged at them for their own demise, as though they had chosen it to spite her…
His touch was warmer than she'd been expecting as his fingers firmly snaked both her wrists and drew her wittingly from her rush of thoughts. The weight shifted in to that of his palms, mildly securing her place upon her back. Still, Misaki held her position as though she did not notice this advance, despite the pain throbbing from the previously existing wound on her arm.
"You're not sleeping," Illumi's blank voice announced.
Without lifting her lids, she smiled and admitted, "I never could fool you in to thinking so, could I?"
She nearly added, 'That must run in your family,' but before her tongue could complete the maneuver to form the first syllable she hastily opted against it.
A smooth, low, rolling chuckle escaped her as the remainder of his body transferred the bulk of itself with ease over her thighs.
"Again? Must have been a stressful work week," she said casually, waiting in anticipation for him to expertly wipe the satisfied smirk from her face as per usual.
As his long hair tipped forward and stray ebony strands brushed against her collarbone and shoulders, tickling the flesh lightly, she angled back her head and clenched her fists from within the restraints of his hands. Once more she was prepared to indulge wholly in either the best arrangement she could have possibly formed with another human being, or the worst…
The Hunter's Moon ignited the dusk in a sphere of flushed pink and pallid orange, overcast with patchy shadows of soft lavender. The landscape below was cluttered with long, leaning silhouettes and the soft murmuring of nocturnal life.
This was the night that an adolescent Misaki Tanoh had officially completed her third contract of assassination. While she was not actively seeking to solely eliminate targets, it was notable that the reward for accepting these conditions was great; she had almost obtained a sum of money collectively between these three contracts akin to her annual profit during her initial year apart from her family.
In a dark moment, she kicked the bloodied corpse on to its back. She wanted to see the face this time, to assess whether or not she had effectively overcome that tiny, looming smoke of doubt and guilt that had unfortunately plagued her following her first murder. The eyes were wide and staring, almost glass-like. They faced her exactly and yet did not look at her. As she studied the lips, she realized the long, gaping oval that had been present during her fatal strike had lessened to something of a toothy slit.
Perhaps she was beginning to get the hang of this after all.
Misaki extended her arm toward the umbrella lodged in the body's chest. It twitched and then wiggled side to side slightly, but did not dislodge. She sighed inwardly, her shoulders and chest raising and lowering with the breath. Her footfalls were nearly inaudible as she approached the fresh corpse and manually forced the parasol free; recognizing quietly that her nen still needed some serious work.
Apparently the feeling was mutual, and a second presence took immediate advantage of her partial weakness. Almost too late, Misaki sensed a concentration of aura approaching her at an alarming rate. With no available time to open her umbrella to shield her, she simply collapsed at the side of the stiff, lifeless body. While this effort was enough to spare her life from what would have almost certainly been a fatal blow, an agonizingly sharp, piercing sensation in her right shoulder revealed that she had not entirely evaded the attack. With a shaky, non-dominant hand, she pried the two metallic pins from between her joints, the shock setting in to efficiently skew the order of her priorities.
A second assault was already intended for her, though this time she was slightly more prepared for the onslaught of needles and managed to use her parasol as a safeguard. The material was showered with the pins, which Misaki extracted after a moment of experimental shifting of aura that finally allowed her to turn the spine inside out. A soft melody of clanging echoed through the quiet space as they landed against the cold, concrete floor.
After turning toward the direction that this time she had noticed the attack originating from, Misaki's heart nearly launched and lodged itself in to her throat at what she saw. She was hardly a believer in ghosts or demons, but for a split second her eyes told a different story. Seemingly hovering above the velvety darkness of the room, with only a sliver of moonlight reflecting off the ghastly pale flesh of the face, was a figure with long, coal black hair and inhumanly ominous cat-eyes.
'A… yūrei?' she thought in horror and disbelief.
She blinked forcefully a few times before she caught a glimpse of the support beam on which the silhouetted figure stood. Upon closer inspection, it became apparent also that the body structure was that of a man, or rather a boy of about her age. She breathed a soft sigh of relief, and fought to restrain a laugh at her previous foolishness of mistaking him for a phantom.
'He's human, alright,' she noted, 'but definitely skilled. If his nen had been any more developed I'm sure those needles wouldn't have missed. I need to play it safe.'
Their stares were locked in a silent battle of will; her eyes narrowed and determined and his looking at her, in to her, through her until she felt the sensation of drowning enveloping her fully.
"Who are you?" she whispered so quietly that she was scarce able to hear her own words.
Of course she had encountered potential enemies and rivals throughout different genres of contracts in the past, but for the first time she found herself dearly wanting to know the answer to the question she had never cared enough to bother asking any one of them before.
It appeared that he had in fact heard her speak, and in a voice that only marginally revealed irritation through the otherwise monotonous droning, he said, "If you steal one of my targets again, I will find you and kill you. Sleep with one eye open."
Then, in a flash of ebony shadows before the bright shades of the moon through the fractured pane of window, he disappeared into the night.
"What is your assessment?" Illumi inquired, ignoring the girl's wandering fingers in his hair.
He scanned her face and eyes for any trace of her true opinion, which he assumed might be looming between her features. Her face was neutral (something she must have intentionally practiced during those years in his absence), and the familiar dazed and dreamy cloud lingered around the amber of her irises. Her body was sufficiently relaxed and tired now; he could sense it clear as day.
A small frown weighted down the corners of her mouth as she sighed and whispered, "You always want discuss work at the worst times."
He didn't quite understand the statement, as he was certain the two had never really conversed about work beyond the night he had initially laid out the conditions of the contract. His eyes blinked slowly, allowing her a moment of peace in order to ultimately retrieve the information he sought.
Forming a scissor-like gesture with her right hand, she mimed snipping at a decent chunk of his hair, which was still draped over her, at shoulder length.
"He's definitely a problem, according to your criteria," she mumbled, fighting to conceal her own personal opinions and instincts towards the tanned, island boy.
"You'll kill him then," he replied simply, no detectable emotion present in his tone.
With a soft finger she traced the outline of his lips, keeping her own expression motionless and grim.
"Illumi," she began with an inflection in her voice that seemed to either imply a question or a cautious suggestion, "I was thinking… I have this very strong feeling that there is something more I should be considering to evaluate that boy with…"
Despite formidably wearing his poker face, Illumi could feel a mild, but definite lurch in his core. He did not need to listen to her words any longer to realize that her potential to veer off course of his contract was growing. Had she become fond of the boy? Did she believe that she now had the right to make her own conditions and carry them through as she pleased?
Unacceptable; Misaki would not betray him. No, she could not betray him, because he had the power to manipulate her as he pleased.
Half mimicking her actions, he ran his fingers through her thick, purple, shoulder length hair (which was left hopelessly messy and tangled from the aftermath of their previous excursions). Her lips stopped moving and thus the flow of her words was successfully ebbed. Her pupils were blown wide with surprise at the unbridled tenderness of the sensation. It was true that he had indeed never done such a thing before.
He leaned in partially and apparently that was enough to convince Misaki to close the majority of the gap between them herself, eagerly pressing her lips to his- another act which the two had never before attempted with one another. Her arms wound tightly around his back and her body pressed pleadingly against his, and he knew instantly that he had won.
'You will kill Gon for me,' he thought triumphantly to himself as he rolled on to his back, luring the girl on top of him as he braced himself for the all-important round three.
A/N: "Whaaaat? Isn't this a Killua fic?!"
Yes, it is. I swear, it is :P Just trust me on this, haha.