For more than twelve years Misaki had avoided returning to what had, this day, become her intended destination. It held all the washed up remains of memories long abandoned, both intentionally and naturally, and the girl felt something akin to fear pooling within her. She knew today was different than every other day past. Today was the day she would break her own rule and share an important piece of herself with another human being. Truthfully, she was uncertain if she ought to feel exhilaration or shame. Nonetheless she was positive that, at the very least, she owed Killua for his acts. This was the only way she could think of to meet the level of vulnerability that he had allowed himself in exchange for her life.

She spent the trip back to Berraudney in absolute silence; lost in thought and occasionally lack thereof. The boys sat in the adjoining seats to her left, and while they would now and then idly chat or get up to wander the ferry they seemed surprisingly understanding that she was not prepared to communicate in return. At one point Gon dropped off a full plate from the buffet, setting it down before her on the built-in tray before simply nodding and taking his leave.

During the final hour, Misaki finally trudged out onto the deck, leaning forth her weight onto the rail as she watched the water turn white at the tips where it rolled back off the boat. The sunlight was warm on her cheek and the scent of the air instantly nostalgic as she absentminded touched her fingers to her barren neck. Curling her red gloved knuckles into a loose fist, she stared down at her wavering reflection.

A set of amber eyes stared back into hers, broken up by the whirl of waves every moment or so. There was a mundane, unreadable look of indifference there that kept her from turning away. She wondered sincerely whether any experience would be enough to bring even an ounce of humanity to her typical expression. While her clothing had entirely changed to a simple pair of tan, linen shorts, a thick strapped, black tank top, and burgundy high-top sneakers with chocolate brown laces, there was still something too hauntingly familiar about herself for her liking. Tenting her elbow to allow her chin to rest in the heel of the hand, Misaki continued to eye the fragments of her image in the water. The girl in the current simply stared back, matching her every glance.

It seemed as though ages had passed since Killua had began following Misaki through the many off-road twists and turns in the forest. Each group of trees looked much the same to him as every other and while he fought to bite his tongue, the boy was admittedly growing a bit impatient. He worried for Gon, whom they had left in the restaurant in a hotel lobby. Despite his friend's declaration that he would be fine, Killua was unable to suppress his anxious doubt. In a dark moment, he nearly parted his lips to ask whether or not they were lost. It was the sudden shift in the air- a momentary sense of emotional mayhem exuding from Misaki- that stopped him.

When her shoes finally landed parallel and halted, the two where standing before an old, wooden shack that appeared out of place amongst the foliage. The roof was concave in more than a few choice areas and even missing pieces altogether. Weeds grew from between the cracks in the outer walls, and the large roots from one of the deciduous trees lifted the front right quarter of the house enough that it was quite clearly no longer level.

"Man, this place is a dump," Killua mumbled.

With a distant look in her eyes, Misaki replied in a forlorn tone, "It is now, but it wasn't always so."

As the girl approached the entrance, she suddenly withdrew slightly and cupped a fist against her chest with the opposite hand. The door was, aside from a single bolt, off its hinges and split inward down the middle as though done by force.

"Keep your guard up," the girl insisted, "anything could be living in here now."

With that, she wrenched the door upright and signalled for Killua to enter.

The force of the door jarring from its position caused a disturbance of debris from the unstable roof. As Killua took his first step into the worn down shack, a few small chunks of ceiling came crumbling down a foot or two away from him. Here and there, beams of sunlight filtered in from the holes above, highlighting the screen of dust hanging in the air. A haze of spiders scurried away in every direction as the boy drew forth a few paces. A chain reaction of scampering noises echoed in its wake, indicating larger game had taken up residence on the premises.

Misaki's eyes had softened greatly, and a melancholy feel seemed to cradle her expression. She reached one hand out from her chest toward a half destroyed wooden chair, retracting it before making contact as though something were likely to spring out at her. After a pause, she extended her hand once more with excruciating slowness. Her fingers twitched as they touched the piece of furniture, running over each carved nook and cranny in a manner that seemed as though she were accessing something Killua couldn't himself translate through it.

"Killua..."

The boy glanced up at her face instinctively, though she did not share eye contact. Her hand continued onto a second, smaller chair; following a path invisible to him. She lingered there longer, the dust separating and leaving a clean line trailing her hand.

Taking a deep, audible breath, she whispered, "My father... made this chair for me."

Killua heard himself exhale and then inhale again a little too quick and sharp to sound natural.

"Is this-...?" he heard his voice asking.

"Yes," she whispered faintly after a beat. "This is the house I grew up in. I-..." The girl sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. "I haven't... had the courage... to come back here since..."

Her posture shifted inward and she tensed noticeably. Killua quite seriously wished Gon was there, as he had a habit of handling situations like this with the honest, but innocent tact that he himself could never rightly possess. At a loss for words, the former assassin found himself powerless to do more than simply stand back and watch, feeling terribly useless. When he thought his chest might burst and force him into uncontrolled action if he remained stationary any longer, he thrust his hands into his pockets, bowed his head until strands of his silver hair successfully shielded his eyes, and headed down the modest hallway for escape.

He remembered all too well the things Misaki had told him, what little she had, about her family. He knew that she left home when she was ten and that when she returned, her parents were dead. Now he was standing inside their house, and in truth he wasn't sure why.

A stray beam of light caught Killua's attention as it illuminated a vertical board on one of the door frames. There were several human, manually carved lines, the tallest reaching three quarters of the way to his shoulder and the shortest barely making it to the joint of his knee. While this in itself was hardly enough to seem worth his recognition, he also noticed that just below the space where the handle ought to have been was a messy carving, as though its owner was inexperienced, that familiarly read, "Misaki". He stared at it quietly for a minute or two before finally pressing his palm against the partially open door.

Even amidst the neglected filth, there was a definite personality about the room. A single mattress, now shredded and likely harbouring pests, was placed atop a handmade, wooden frame. A waist-height shelf of books, now torn and discoloured with age and water damage, told the story of a child that loved to read. There was a single pane window, the only one he'd seen in the house at all in fact, with a stool placed before it. This overlooked a small stream and an especially tall tree that had steps cut into a spiral up the trunk. He could picture a very typical, adventurous kid gazing outside in anticipation of the day... maybe playing in the forest and picking wild berries, or fighting off large insects with a stick...

But this was not the Misaki he knew. The Misaki he knew was serious and duty-driven, with a face of unshakable indifference and a knack for somehow keeping herself separate, even when together. Only sometimes she softened or smiled. He could imagine a very normal little girl, living the life that he never had; loving her family and being loved; having typical things that made her grin or laugh or cry every day. He could not however, comfortably imagine this same child leaving home and discovering that her parents had been killed in her absence, and somehow becoming acquainted to and physically involved with someone like Illumi. He could not imagine this little girl as Misaki...

Sensing her presence, he turned. Her eyes revealed the truth of her vulnerability to him, and at first Killua found this quite startling. He nearly withdrew a step, but she approached him first slowly, cupping his cheek in her hand. Frozen in time, he simply stared back at her, his blue eyes brimming with confusion.

"Do you understand?" Misaki asked in a helpless voice that just barely resembled her own.

Killua could do little more than shake his head.

"I've never brought anyone here... I've never been able to-..." She examined his face closely. "The day I found out that they were dead... I swore to never allow myself intimacy with another human being."

"Aniki..." he choked out against his better judgment.

She shook her head weakly.

"No... Killua... That's not-... He doesn't know me."

"But I-..."

"But you... I want you to know me, Killua... even if I shouldn't." Something almost mimicking a small, shy smile claimed the girl's mouth. Her cheeks tinted pink in the fading light. "To me, this is the most intimate thing I've ever shared with anyone... and I'm sharing it with you."

Killua's eyes widened, slightly less so from her statement as from the intense look in her half-open eyes and the tone in her voice. She closed the space between them, leaning down to his level.

"I told myself that it was dangerous to make friends. Friends could only hinder me. Friends could leave. Friends could die... Then I met you... and even though it's wrong, I thought... if you-..."

"M-Misaki...?"

"I'm sorry, Killua. I could never be as good of a friend as you are. Even now, after everything that has happened, you're here. I don't deserve such kindness from anyone, much less from you."

Despite the pained honesty in her words, Killua found a strange sort of solace in the double edged compliment.

"Since that day, I thought I could only hope to find peace when I killed... when I completed a contract and grew stronger. You've changed everything I've always depended on... It feels strange to speak so honestly to someone, even now. But if it's you, I-..."

Killua could feel his limbs trembling slightly despite his forced disbelief. He couldn't find any words to say.

"Thank you for coming here with me... my beloved friend, Killua," Misaki whispered airily.

The colour in her face was flaring now as she closed her eyes and ever so softly touched her lips to his, puckering gently once against him- tenderly, affectionately- before slowly releasing.

A/N: Thank you again to everyone reading, reviewing, following, or favoriting. I promise we'll get back to more action-based stuff soon. :P