With a clouded head and a stagger in her walk, Misaki had finally decided to return to Haku's residence and borrow his bed once again to drift off into sleep. Rather to say, the girl (in her drunken stupor) could see the black curtain falling over her drooping eyes and feel the enormous weight to her muscles and, without the guidance of any real clarity, stumbled back to the only place she could think of that was appropriate given the circumstances to pass out.
Only very small sort of thoughts came to her, and at a rate that was so incredibly gradual that she nearly forgot the entire notion by the time it was completed in her mind. She remembered that her umbrella was back in the bedroom and that she needed to retrieve it, as it was very important to her and really the only memento she owned other than her father's bandana that tied her at all to her past. After all, her mother had purchased it for her on a particularly rainy day when she had been only about five or six, and in lieu of her days being filled with admittedly more physical labor than innocent play, she had been given an "adult umbrella" as opposed to the child-like ones at the stand next to it.
The day Misaki had left home at ten, it had been raining profusely. At the time it had seemed nothing more than common sense to collect her parasol from its own little hook by the front door. She couldn't have known then that her simple possession would later become an intricate role as far as developing her own ability. Certainly now she could replace it with another just like it, but realistically it was obvious to her that it would not hold the same power that this specific umbrella did; her emotional attachment was to this one specifically, and no other could ever encourage the same degree of vigor.
Plum hair hung in thick, stingy clumps across the off-white pillowcase, the disturbed covers tucked beneath the girl's unconscious body, as she had been far too weary to bother slipping between them. Her lips were agape, more so than usual, and she breathed heavily through her mouth as she slumbered. She dreamed in spurts, though truthfully she disliked having done so.
The first sequence set a strange mood that even within the vision she failed to properly identify. A woman with a familiar scent and an unclear, hazy face stood over her, softly sweeping loose strands of hair from Misaki's face. The amber eyed girl herself was lying flat on her back upon a thick cut of plywood. The room was simple and uninteresting and empty. Muted colors surrounded her.
"Would you like me to restrain you?" the woman asked soothingly. "I thought you might prefer it."
Misaki blinked, her head feeling pleasantly fuzzy. She nodded slowly.
"Yes, I suppose it would be for the best."
The woman steadily worked her way around the wooden platform, retrieving shackles from somewhere beneath it and gently but firmly fastening her wrists and ankles. When she was done, she leaned in and tenderly kissed the girl's cheek. The lady's lips were warm, and her hair smelled of the Berraudney forest. A rush of nostalgic and useless vanities filled Misaki's head for a moment or two.
"I'll be waiting for you upstairs," the woman explained. "If you struggle, it'll take longer, you know."
Misaki shook her head and smiled.
"Oh, not to worry; I wouldn't do that."
The woman exited through a door that the girl could have sworn hadn't been there a mere minute ago.
Lifting her heavy eyelids, she found herself back in Haku's bed. Still unshakably weary, she rolled onto her stomach, drifting off to the scent of Illumi's hair which lingered still on the second pillow which was now folded into the crook of her elbow.
A warm rush of air glided over her flesh, making her feel cold by comparison. As she glanced down, she realized that she was stripped bare now, her wrist and ankle restraints still secured. There was nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling, which was somehow less interestingly decorated than even just simple white would have been.
She shivered as the sensation of the very ends of soft hair tickled her hips and navel. Grinning foolishly, she rolled her neck exaggeratedly to the side. The cuffs had transformed into woven strands of midnight hair. Glancing up, she locked stares with two ominous, depthless black eyes. No physical body was present however, but she wouldn't struggle, regardless.
It would take longer if she struggled.
Instead, she ran her tongue under her top lip and rolled her head back, eagerly awaiting the assault. The scent overwhelmed her, smothered her, until she could no longer form coherent thoughts.
Misaki nearly mistook the sun's setting for its rising when she woke next, but she simply could not awaken yet. It was too soon. She was too terribly drained. Moaning softly, she turned the opposite direction onto her side, drawing her knees in closer to her chest. The last thought that crossed her mind as she slipped away once more was that her hiking boots were still hugging to her feet. She would have to remember to take them off next time, perhaps…
She was no longer a girl. Misaki was a woman now. Her body was raw and tied soundly between long, ebony locks of bodiless hair, but she was indeed a woman. The hair covered her like clothing, keeping her breasts from full exposure.
As she strolled down a dimly lit corridor, searching for the path upstairs, she happened upon a silver haired boy. He too had been stripped naked and was concealed by only the black strands of hair. They even covered his mouth, preventing him from speaking to her even while his eyes pleaded desperately when they met with her gaze.
Curious and well aware that she was risking her own safety, Misaki slipped her fingers between his pale flesh and the contrasting dark fibers. Their hold was strong, but she was persistent. Slowly but surely, she began to unwind the tightly coiled strings.
He gasped for air once his mouth was free; falling into her arms as though they had been somehow supporting his weight as well.
"You can't save me, you know," he said finally, shuttering and keeping his eyes low. "It'll find me again; it always finds me."
Misaki stroked his hair to soothe him. Some of the long, raven strands had embedded themselves right into his skull. Leaning in closer to inspect this, she plucked them one by one, pinching each individual line between her fingernails. She squinted in order to confirm that the white root had indeed been removed.
"They'll just grow back," he protested.
She tilted his chin upward and kissed his lips to silence him. He tasted young and pure, and she resisted the urge to consume him wholly. The very tip of his tongue touched to her bottom lip and then retreated, as though encouraging her to corrupt him at her own free will. It was tempting… too tempting. She allowed his hair to fill her fist, yanking at it just enough to cause him noticeable pain.
Misaki woke abruptly. Her body was fevered and dewy with sweat and locks of plum hair adhered to both her forehead and the nape of her neck. She stretched her limbs, forcing herself to release the image of Killua from her head and the phantom touch of his lips against hers from her consciousness.
She despised herself as she trudged across to the shower, ignoring the putrid stench of recent death which haunted the hallway as she passed through. There had been a time that she was so confident in her ability to curb her own emotions and urges. She might have sworn up and down that her capacity to suppress these concepts was far superior to most.
Now everything had changed. Her body appeared to be the one spiraling out of control as if it were a completely separate entity from that of her mind. She loathed Illumi for what she knew he had done to her, and yet her body still craved him. Killua was hardly a part of her contract at all; simply an adolescent baggage on top of all the others, and nevertheless her physical need to have him was undeniable.
'You're a fool, Misaki,' she hissed mentally, her head tilted down and motionless under the spray of the shower. 'Your body cannot know better than your mind. That was Illumi's game… Stop playing it.'
While she hated to admit it, the girl was at a loss over what to do. She exhaled a long breath, reaching desperately for comfort in familiarity and routine.
As it happened, the answer was there all along. She forced her shoulders back, narrowing her stare from behind a wall of running water, too distracted to feel the intensity of it upon her unsheathed eyes. There was something habitual she could indulge herself in still, now that she had certainly been betrayed.
'I have… a score to settle,' Misaki realized, clenching her fists.