4 weeks, 3 days.
That was how long it'd been since Kana's last encounter with Hisoka Morou.
What did she expect? Kana hated to admit it, but she was…..deflated. It was with great relief and perhaps a little disappointment that Kana returned to her quiet, and unassuming life. She walked an hour to work each day, greeted her coworkers, healed some fighters, and went back home to a meager dinner before repeating the process again.
Of course, Kana had been raised literally in a war zone. Her family frequented battlefields, hospitals, and mafia warzones….
"Healers are not weak," Kana's mother whispered to a five year old Kana. "To be a Murasaki means to be death incarnate."
They were in "The Tool Room". An outsider may have called it a kitchen. Kana liked to nickname it "Slaughterhouse", much to her older brother's annoyance. It was a cave, with wooden tables, sinks, mixing bowls, patient tables, stoves, pots, and tools. It was a surgical room crossed with a kitchen crossed with a Home Depot.
70% ethanol that coated every surface assaulter Kana's nose like a sharp slap.
"If you're going to survive as a Murasaki, you must be god of the battlefield," Kana's mother intoned, "You must never let anyone touch you. You must heal all wounds. You must be powerful beyond reproach." Her mother's eagle like eyes assessed Kana's slight frame, already making calculations.
"Mom…" Kana watched as her mother skimmed her fingers along the wall of knives, scalpels, and other surgical supplies.
"Mom…I don't like these games." Kana whispered.
"Put your hand out, dear." Kana's mother demanded, finally selecting a serrated knife, 8 inches long. Kana obeyed, laying her tiny right hand on the wooden table, palm down.
With precision, Kana's mother stabbed the blade through Kana's soft hand, penetrating every ligament and bone possible along the way.
Kana cried out, fighting the urge to tense her right hand. To resist would only make it worst. One needs to relax. To embrace the pain.
"Do not cry." Kana's mother slapped her. "We have no need to cry. You will come back to me in one hour or else I will pierce your other hand. For a child your age, only 100ml of your blood would be considered enough for life threatening blood loss. You have no time to waste."
And with that, Kana's mother walked to entrance, her heels echoing across the cavernous "Tool Room". She turned off the light, and locked the door.
"You will thank me one day."
Then again, anything beat living in that horrible household. Kana was alone, but she was also free. She could do with quiet.
Kana glanced at the TV on the wall in the tiny medic room. She had watched Hisoka's first match since their last encounter. He was facing Ugo – another brute in the 200s. She marveled at how small Hisoka looked in comparison to the roid heavy contestants. He packed so much power, so much speed, for someone who looked so….normal. But that was T.V. Anyone would look tiny compared to 400lb nen enhancers. In fact, the 200s was mostly composed to enhancers. They had a natural affinity for combat and muscle growth.
As an enhancer herself, Kana was aware of her affinity for combat – but her family had trained her nen use for….other skills. What she had been taught was not something conventional. And especially not something people should see.
She watched as Hisoka yawned, obviously disappointed with Ugo. Rather than sport his trademark smirk, Hisoka had simply raised an eyebrow in displeasure at Ugo's attempts to land a powerful but slow nen enhanced punch. The giant was battered beyond relief – face smashed in, a couple of ribs broken, etc. Kana would have her work cut out for her – she was assigned to Ugo today.
Kana watched, with gyo enhanced eyes, watching as Hisoka made as if to pierce Ugo's chest with his hand. Hisoka hadn't even needed to use nen in the fight. He had dodged every single punch except the first one –probably one he gave for free anyways. She held her breath – she knew a killing blow when she saw one. But Ugo mercifully collapsed before Hisoka could release his bloodlust. With a visible Tch Hisoka dropped his hand, and resumed his displeased stature. He was bored.
"And Hisoka wins – when will this beast ever be sto-" Kana switched off the T.V with a heavy sigh, and readied her medical kit. It was a busy season – fights every day. Medics were always understaffed, but the pay was good this time of year. The faster the fighters were healed, the more fights. The more fights, the more revenue. Maybe she'd finally have enough to afford some nice food on the upper levels of the tower.
The doorknob turned behind Kana as she lay out her medical supplies.
"Ugo, how many times am I going to have to heal your – uhhhhh," Kana slowed as she realized that she wasn't quite facing Ugo.
"You're not Ugo." Kana blurted.
His slanted eyes eyed her with mirth, as he ran a hand through his brightly dyed hair. "No I am not."
"How'd you get in here?" Kana asked, incredulous. Kana felt pinned by his gaze, as if he was daring her to make a break for it like last time.
"I can be persuasive." Hisoka laughed, clearly getting some sort of an inside joke.
He tilted his head back, eyes looking down her, "So, little medic. Show me your skills."
On reflex, Kana's eyes instantly scanned his body, assessing everything from head to toe. He didn't seem hurt, but her trained eye notice slowly healing wounds accumulated from months of neglect.
For christ sake the man was a walking zombie. With trembling fingers, Kana reached out to brush his forearm, gyo eyes picking up subtle changes in muscle wrapping around what could've been a stress fracture.
Kana's breath hitched, remembering herself. She was standing a little too close to this famed killer. At this range he towered above her, her eyes only just reaching his chest. She noticed the soft fabric of his shirt, reminiscent of card designs.
Hisoka stood perfectly still, observing the medic examining his arm. It had been bothering him, but he had completely forgotten where he'd gotten that annoyance from. Perhaps it was from his match a month ago, those random thugs who'd bumped into him, that brash hunter he'd come across….it really didn't matter. He didn't care to remember.
He noted she was tiny, her wiry arms lightly probing his arm. Although the medic was shrouded by her cloak, he could see that she had a delicate frame. He was impressed – remember that display of finesse she had when she freed herself from her grasp. The defiance. The precision. Hisoka inwardly chuckled. What surprises did this little body hold? What were the possibilities of her abilities?
Kana's hands grasped his toned forearm gently, ready to heal. Her nen surged to her hands, transferring to Hisoka's arm, and began to probe inwards to the stress fracture she sensed.
Hisoka stiffened, but otherwise held still. He never usually let other people touch them with nen, but he'd make an exception for her.
"Amazing," he breathed. "What lovely aura you have." Hisoka sighed, excitement stirring in his belly. His lips thinned, just barely containing his lust. Her aura was warm. Non-intrusive. Completely and perfectly calibrated to his. He had never seen such seamless and perfect healing.
If Kana had was affected by his words, she did not show it. But rather, was solely focused on healing the weeks old wound.
And just like that it was over, the warmth fading. Jade eyes met gold as Kana stood straight, posture perfect from years of discipline.
"Done. Your forearm is now in perfect condition. It was bruised three weeks ago. I assume you punched a hard surface at the wrong angle. Original prognosis would've been another three more weeks plus scaring." Kana intoned. If there was anything she could rely on, it was to lose herself to protocol. This was familiar. He was just a patient, she reminded herself. That was all.
"Why'd you run?" Hisoka inspected his forearm, taking a seat in a chair right in front of the door.
Kana cursed, so much for her quick departure. Unable to hide her discomfort, Kana shuffled her feet, looking down.
"You surprised me."
"Ooooh, are you afraid of me?" Hisoka's syrupy voice taunted her. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"No." Kana looked up defiantly. His question had pierced her uncertainty like a beacon of light through the dark. She was so not afraid of this clown. In the end, he was just a bloodthirsty killer. And she had had her fair share of his ilk. He was a blood thirsty, crazed killer, finding meaning in existence through ending the lives of others.
It is much harder to build than to destroy; to save than kill. He would never understand that being strong wasn't everything. And how hard she worked to undo the damage people like him wreaked.
"What is your name, little medic?"
Kana looked at him, debating on what use there'd be in not telling him.
"Kana," she relented. He could easily find that just by asking around anyways.
"And who taught you how to heal like that?" Hisoka eyed his forearm with interest.
Tch. He was asking dangerous questions. The last thing she wanted was to be ousted as a Murasaki. It would paint a target on her back. From her family, their enemies, or anyone else desiring their bloodline.
"A hunter. She never told me her real name." Kana lied. It was a good lie.
"And are you a hunter?" Hisoka's eyes glittered dangerously, leaning even more forward.
"I have no desire to take the hunter's exam." Kana replied, occupying herself with packing up her medical kit. She disliked his probing.
"Have you ever learned to fight?"
And the room exploded in that instant. Not a C4 explosion. An explosion of ren. The bloodlust was palpable in the room, his ren blasting through her. Her own nen immediately shot up defensively, protecting her from his intent.
She gulped as his ren, an almost sticky substance suffocated her.
"No." Kana sniffed, hoping he'd buy her bluff.
A playing card flashed to her face—Kana twisted her head to the side just in time to avoid being impaled by a joker. How apt.
Kana contorted her body to the side again as three more cards darted at her, aiming right for her heart and her stomach.
A Murasaki is untouchable.
As part of some sick training program, her family members would just randomly chuck sharp objects at her. If they missed – they'd have to work on their aim, or she'd at least improve in dodging. If they hit, well, she'd better hope she could heal it in time. They always aimed for the vitals. Always.
Kana assessed Hisoka again. She could try to fight. But running was always easier, and she had never truly been in a one on one fight before.
"You're fun" Hisoka grinned. He crouched predatorily, hands flourishing a new deck of cards.
Kana kicked him viciously in the face, summoning as much raw nen to her foot as possible. She'd be damned if she had to dance like a chicken to this clown's fancy.
"Agh," Kana cursed. It felt like her foot collided against steal. Hisoka's head had whipped to the side, but the rest of his stance remained rock solid.
"What are you made of, titanium?" She cried in disbelief. She sent a soothing shock of nen to her foot, immediately healing the bruises.
"Ahhh, that was a good kick." Hisoka stood up, rubbing his cheek. The malicious ren vanished, and he resumed talking to her as if they were only just having a pleasant conversation.
"Let's play again some time!" Hisoka smiled cheerfully, walking out the exit.
It wasn't a minute later that Kana realized she wasn't breathing, still locked in her defensive stance.
She thought her trembling was from fear.
Hisoka knew better. He saw her trembling as excitement. Delighted with his new toy, he strolled merrily back to his headquarters, day considerably improved since his lukewarm match.