While her circumstances were initially hazy, two things were entirely clear; Misaki was both lying in a darkened room and there was another presence in her midst, watching her. Her mind felt weighted and heavy as she woke. Thinking any thought coherently took effort, she realized, due to the sorry state her physical body was currently in. The bulk of the girl's limbs stung even without movement and many of her muscles throbbed with terrible ache. For the first minute or two, she simply concentrated on trying to keep her heartbeat steady, lest the other party catch on to her sudden shift.

She was quite certain, the longer she felt out the situation, that she was in fact atop a bed. The cushioning beneath her seemed to absorb her mass and frame with relative comfort. Her body was adorned in some sort of lengthy dress, which she found unarguably odd. It was a serious wonder whether it were actually night or if she were simply isolated. No immediate sign of her weapon's whereabouts could be sensed. The additional occupant as well was difficult to read, for no hint of their intentions were traceable. Of course, Misaki was always cautious to the possibility that in a scenario such as this, the chances that the mystery individual was hostile could be considered high. Due to this, she ensured that her breathing and expression continued to mimic that of ignorance and sleep. She upheld this appearance even as a small jolt hit her in understanding that her neck was barren and thus her precious link to home- her bandana- was absent.

It was then that the girl caught the slightest trace of aura. Admittedly it surprised her when instead of malice, it resonated a trace of quite a complex stew of emotions. Misaki was unable to properly separate each of them into their baser levels, but the experience was enough to cause a strange lurch in her chest. As it happened, a part of her that she realized must have still been asleep was coaxed forth, and her own emotions began to mirror those of the aura she had felt briefly. Her heart did a very distinct, strained knock against her chest.

"Killua...?"

Heat rose to Misaki's face, having spoken without meaning to. Her tongue had acted of its own volition, and really the girl was caught wondering why she had somehow been inspired to say, of all things in an unknown situation, this name...

...And further perplexing was the acknowledgement from said person, responding in a tone of uncertainty and hesitance, "Misaki... you are awake..."

To say the girl with the plum was startled greatly oversimplified her status. A surge of guilt and mourning hit her hard with no warning or explanation. The distant memory, like a half forgotten dream, of infinite pleasure and borderline climax just barely touched to her conscious mind. A fear of this unknown ignited within her and left behind only a single, torturing question that she could not retrieve enough information to solve:

'What did I do?'

The only conclusion she was able to draw insisted that she had done very wrong. Perhaps unforgivably wrong.

Following the confrontation with Hisoka, Killua's emotional state had been difficult to define. Certainly there was, to an extent, a victory to be celebrated. It would be false to say that the boy was not proud, pleased, and even elated by the outcome. However, there was also a great abundance of other conflicting sentiments coursing through him. He felt concern for both Gon and Misaki; the physical afflictions that were left as evidence in the aftermath. He felt duty to take the lead and care for his ailing friends. He felt fear for what was to come, now that no longer were they simply chasing Misaki's safe return as an ideal... What could the damned really have to say to the damned, after all was said and done? He also felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness to effectively battle that sensation of accomplishment.

Having travelled back to a hotel for accommodations (with the thought that should Illumi try to reclaim her, there was a better chance of premeditated defence or escape than simply camping), Killua had been avoiding any other responsibilities to simply keep watch of the girl. There were moments where his desire to win, to overcome Illumi, was far more powerful than anything he had ever tried to analyze or dismiss feeling for Misaki. In truth, there was a bitterness in him that both acknowledged and simultaneously tried to ignore the fact that the girl had really run away from him on her own accord the first time.

He seriously (and sourly) considered whether he was capable of ever capturing the attention of her inner passions and needs the way that his eldest brother was apparently able to do with such ease. He especially resented Illumi for this, and quite honestly Misaki too. He was likewise disgusted with himself for even caring about something so arbitrary, or for being at all affected as a person by Misaki's personal tastes and choices.

And yet...

With his elbows propped up on his knees and his chin cradled in his open palms, Killua patiently watched the girl sleep. Her expression was, with the exception of her lightly parted lips, almost a perfect representation of her typical, indifferent demeanor. He studied her, examining her features closely and critically, as she slept away completely unaware of his quiet scrutiny.

'You can tell she's way older,' he thought. 'Look at those lines by her eyes. She has a big nose, too. Selfish old hag... getting me to clean up after her mess...'

In spite of this, Killua still sat in silence, both anxiously awaiting and dreading her wakening.

By the time the girl had finally spoken his name ( her voice much softer and more inviting than usual), he was unable to fully call forth that focused exasperation he had prepared so readily earlier. He had noticed the very subtle change in her stature which signalled her consciousness returning.

'What the hell do I say now?'

He decidedly despised growing up now more than ever.

In essence, Misaki understood the effect of her forgotten actions; she knew her conscience was far too trained in apathy to allow such an ample supply of shame to befall her without sufficient reason. She also knew that somehow, Killua's presence now brought her both calm and calamity all at once. She had, genuinely, always considered the boy both a fantastic rival and a fascinating specimen all in all. In regards to her emotions toward him, guilt was nothing new. She had felt this before; initially a repressed amount when she had watched Gon and Killua playing an arcade game in the lobby their first night together, and considerably more every time she felt safe enough to reveal an honest truth about herself to him.

There was something embarrassingly intimate about that; the fact that he and he alone knew details that she'd never dared to utter to another living soul. That consensual vulnerability was new and exciting and terrifying to her. Nevertheless, she always fought to inhibit the part of her that was drawn to this allure, to Killua, and only enjoyed the wrongful thrill of it all in absolute secret, where only her dreams could ever touch it. He was juvenile and untainted, she supposed, and perhaps that meant inside he was as inexperienced in the matter as she, and therefore he was fragile beneath the layers of vibrancy and virility of his youth.

Regardless, Misaki was all too aware of this fatal flaw. Attaching herself emotionally to anyone was detrimental to her work, which was of course the whole reason woven into her being since the tragedy had occurred so many years ago...

"How long have I been here?" she asked, gently rubbing at her eyes absentmindedly. When she finally opened them, his silver hair drew her attention to him immediately, shining with all the pale radiance of a nighttime moon in the blackened background.

"Two days." His voice was less direct than usual. Misaki could hear the hesitance in his words.

"Two days..." she repeated slowly. She smiled awkwardly in the darkness, and in a voice that sounded too serious to match her expression, she asked, "I suppose that means you've come to my rescue again?"

He was silent for a moment before finally replying with an indifferent, "Yeah."

"I thought you told me you wouldn't be putting your life on the line for me again."

"I thought you weren't going to run off and do something stupid again. Things change."

In spite of herself, Misaki grinned. Judging by the shift in Killua's posture, she assumed he must have noticed. The sound of crunching interrupted the silence.

"What are you eating?"

Killua shrugged, holding out a red box and shaking it from side to side. The contents rattled clumsily against the cardboard.

"The last time I had one of those, I was probably about five years old," the girl mused.

"If you want one, ask for it then."

"I was only reminiscing."

Sighing with mild irritation, the boy plucked a single biscuit stick from the package and shoved it partway into the girl's lips. He sat himself back down with a plunk just as Misaki reached up to grab the barren end of the treat. She slowly chewed the chocolate-coated piece in her mouth.

"Thank you, Killua."

"Whatever. It's just a cookie."

"I meant... for your sacrifice."

An awkward tension fell over the room.

"I've never met anyone who would consider my life worth saving," she continued in an even, unfeeling tone so as not to connect too deeply and upset herself. "Yet, you've come for me more than once. I am forever in your debt, you realize."

"Is that what Aniki would want?" he finally said.

"I don't understand."

"You always run to him, so... you know. Whatever. It doesn't matter, anyway."

The girl frowned.

"The... 'arrangement' between Illumi and I... it's very complicated."

"That's just what people say when they know the truth but they don't wanna deal with it."

Misaki sighed, absently reaching for Killua's hand. Her fingertips managed to brush his knuckles. The boy's hand twitched at her touch.

"No, you're right," she admitted, sighing once again. "The truth is, I used to think things between us were very simple until recently."

"Whatever then. Keep thinking that."

"Don't be presumptuous. You're speaking about something that you don't understand."

This elicited a more aggressive reaction from the boy. His blue eyes shone with his anger in the dark as he wrenched his hand away from the girl and leapt to his feet.

"You're still going to defend him even after everything that's happened! You'll never learn, will you? He doesn't care if you live or die, you idiot! If I killed you right here, right now, he'd be happy! You're nothing but a-...!"

It was the look on her face, even shadowed and nearly swallowed by the dark, that stopped Killua suddenly. While he couldn't quite pinpoint the exact emotion Misaki was radiating precisely, the vulnerability in her eyes struck him. He could see in her now something he'd definitely felt, himself, before. Rather shakily, the girl pulled her aching body into a sitting position amidst a few soft grunts of discomfort; teetering a bit as the blood flow changed direction. Her loose, plum hair touched the tops of her shoulders in a tangled mess.

"I know," she whispered. "I've always known. That's what I thought I liked about it."

Her amber eyes met Killua's blue ones, watering slightly without spilling. She outreached her arm toward his face; at first reluctant to make contact but finally cupping his cheek in her chilled palm. Her thumb gently stroked his flesh, and while his natural instinct was to pull away, something inside refused to allow him the liberty.

In a voice so raw and exposed that it scarcely sounded like her own, Misaki said, "Killua... there is something very important to me that I've wanted to share with you... and only you."