Chapter XXIX

"Look at this crowd!" The Heaven's Arena announcer gestures towards the hard-packed stage. People are cheering and waving their hands at the camera. "This is today's most awaited match! After his two-day domination through the first 190 floors, here he is! The magician−Hisoka!"

In the arena, Hisoka stands calm and poised. He wears a purple top and pants, trimmed with gold at the sides, and paired with golden armbands.

The announcer continues: "His opponent is none other than the second half of the Mercurial Twins! Boasting a 2-1 record with both wins in a total knockout! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Arianne!"

Arianne smiles and waves at the crowd, sending them into a frenzy. She wears her red-orange top and green grass skirt, with a garland of flowers atop her dark brown hair and around her hips. She stands barefoot, confident and sneering at her opponent.

"I will have you know," she drawls, fingers brushing over her skirt, "this match is mine."

"I don't intend to lose as well," Hisoka says. "I have someone cheering for me." Amber eyes glance to the crowd, easily spotting where Valtiel sits at the front-row. He has procured a front-row seat especially for her, so she could see the full extent of his performance today. "Losing is not something I tolerate."

"You're just a beginner," she snaps and takes her stance: knees bent, hands up.

"Your training experience has nothing to do with strength," he says, voice gentle and humble.

Between them, the referee signals the start of the fight.

Hisoka chuckles and spreads his arms in an open gesture. "By all means, ladies first."

"You will regret that, clown!" Arianne crosses the distance between them and reaches out to grab his wrist. She is met with the magician's own knee, striking onto her left side. She recovers enough to somersault and land deftly on her feet. Blood trickles from the short cut in her stomach.

The magician gives her enough time to recover from his first blow, before rushing over with the face of a madman. He licks his lips and reaches for her shoulders, his long nails hoping to dig into her olive skin, but Arianne's hands meet with his own, their fingers intertwined. They push back at each other, like sumo wrestlers in a ring, but Hisoka's strength is superior. He pushes her back with easy steps, while Arianne grits her teeth and digs the balls of her heel onto the ground.

Hisoka keeps pushing, seemingly intent to overwhelm her through brute strength. Arianne is late to realize that he is forcing her out of the ring. Though there are no rules against leaving the ring, she could not give him the upper hand.

Still hand-clasped, with the magician's face so close to hers that she could see the glare of the light reflecting in his amber eyes, Arianne twists her hands and holds Hisoka around the wrist, and then activates her Nen ability. The searing heat of her ability forces the magician backwards, back to the center of the ring. He looks perplexed, eyes down to observe the numbered marks on his wrist.

In the audience, Valtiel could barely keep her calm. She sits on the edge of her seat, worried for Hisoka, despite knowing that her worry must be unfounded. He defeated Omokage. He is part of the Phantom Troupe now. He accomplished things she herself could not accomplish within a year. Her eyes are forever on the ring, Gyo dancing in her eyes, as Arianne saunters towards the confused magician.

"You should not have come close," Arianne tells Hisoka, hands on her hips, lips curled into a triumphant grin. A light red brand glows around the wrists where she had held him. "This is my ability."

"Is this the part where you will narrate everything about your ability and its restrictions?" Hisoka blinks at her, innocent. He smiles and pretends looking at a watch. "I mean, I can certainly hear you out. We have enough time for a sob backstory and everything else you'd like to share."

"You talk too much." Arianne bares white teeth at him. "How about you figure it out on your own?"

"Oh, no problem!" he chirps and stares down at his wrists again. Two bands wrap around them, light red and quite warm. Not enough to hurt like it did when she touched him. He rolls his wrist here and there, testing the brand, but nothing happens. He can feel nothing. Again, he blinks up at her.

She assumes her stance again, ready to rush at him. "I suppose I should just demonstrate," she says as she lunges, head-on. The magician stands idle and waits for her to come, incensing her even further. Her temper flares at his calm demeanor. Growling, she punches him repeatedly on the right arm, which he lifts to his face to block her attacks. Then she pounces back again, to see the pain register in his face.

Hisoka feels the prickling sensation in his wrist. It trails down to his fingertips, pooling there like an electrified puddle, and then it spreads upwards, to his forearm and elbow, sending a sensation with a mixture of numbness and electricity. His skin tingles, goosebumps rising. It feels as if he is being electrified by the brand, and it sends thousands of his nerves awake−and in pain.

Arianne attacks again while he is preoccupied. She batters his left forearm, before jumping back again.

The tingling sensation doubles, both of his arms buzzing with pain. Soon, the numbness spreads to his entire arms, up to his shoulders, where he could not feel anything else but the pain. Hisoka blinks and opens and closes his fist; at the slightest movement, the electrifying sensation jolts throughout his hand, making him hiss. He glowers and looks up at Arianne.

"Your ability is pain," he observes.

"Manipulating your nerve centers, more like," she corrects, careless. "What else?"

"The brand is the starting point. You have to hold your targets before stamping the brand."

"It connects to the nerve centers in your arms, yes," she answers. "And distributes the pain throughout the body. It can only do much when around someone's wrist," she adds with a shrug. "The nerve centers in one's wrist are not as powerful and deterring as somewhere else."

"I wonder where it is most hurtful," he singsongs. His arms spasm again, unexpectedly so, and his breath whistles through gritted teeth as he falls to his knees. His opponent looms over him, her shadow casting a long silhouette behind her. Still, he manages a grin. "Will you brand me on the nape, Arianne?"

"No. I watched your fights yesterday." Her hand darts out, quick as a bullet, and lies flat on his left thigh. The red brand gleams as it circles across the limb. She delivers another punch there, sending her ability into action, more nerves ignited with searing pain.

The magician's face contorts from the three-way pain. She purses her lips and stands over him, lifting his chin so he could face her. By her calculations, both of his arms and left leg are certainly useless now, occupied with numbness and discomfort combined. As she lifts his chin, she finds that he is grinning, eyes in narrow slits. She hisses and slaps him across the cheek. A fourth touch does not create a brand, but her slap is strong enough to make his pale skin grow light red from impact.

Hisoka laughs amidst the sea of pain in his limbs. He could not feel his fingers or thigh; could not even move an inch without doubling the pain. Yet he laughs as his pieces are already in place. Again, he searches through the crowd, spots the unmistakable clump of platinum-blonde hair, and winks at her direction.

Despite the distance, he could see her sudden blush. He laughs to himself.

Arianne sneers. It seems to be her favorite facial expression. She leans down to level her green eyes with the magician's own. "What are you laughing at, stupid−"

He rams his forehead onto her nose, breaking the soft bones there, watching in pleasure as blood spurts while she doubles over in shock and pain.

"I don't need my arms and leg to defeat you," he says and winks again. His pinkish aura that he glued to her right palm contracts, forcing her back to him, with him ready to slam his forehead back to her face.

She puts her hands up for defense, but the magician rotates from his kneeling position and sends his right leg onto the woman's back. Arianne coughs, eyes wide. She rolls across the arena as Hisoka's aura tugs at her again, sticking her to the ground permanently while he limps, quite awkward, with his one good leg. His arms and left leg sway and trail behind him, useless.

Desperate, Arianne tugs at the hand stuck to the floor. She uses Gyo only then, shocked to see her entire hand surrounded by a glowing pink aura.

"This is my Bungee Gum," Hisoka says as he stands over her prone position. He spreads his lips into a dark and maniacal smile. He loves to see her squirming underneath him, reminding of a helpless rat. "It has the properties of both gum and rubber. And right now, you are pasted to the floor, unless your ability can also influence other people's aura."

"Bastard!" Her temper flares once more. She bares her teeth like a caged animal. "Let me go!"

"Of course." Hisoka snickers and crouches next to her. He leans close, his mouth to her ear. "I hope your twin brother is watching. I hope he will remember you."

He slams his heeled foot onto the back of her neck, pinning her to the floor. His aura extends to his foot and sticks Arianne on the ground by her neck. She squirms again, powerless and panicking in earnest now. Like a mount on a glued paper.

With a kind smile, the magician raises his foot. Arianne's eyes are on the sharp heel of his shoe.

"Well, goodbye now, little miss."

He drives the heel straight into her eyes, going through flesh and veins.

The crowd gasps and then hushes, their hands to their mouths at the butchery.

Then Hisoka turns expectantly at the referee. The man flinches and then declares, "Our winner, Hisoka!"

Unable to walk by himself without looking like a flimsy tube man, Hisoka asks Valtiel to carry him on her back, mustering his most persuasive puppy eyes to let her agree. She concedes with a defeated sigh, hoisting him over her back with his chin on her left shoulder, his numb arms held by her hands, and his legs trailing uselessly behind them.

"You're so heavy," Valtiel complains, already breaking into a sweat after a grand total of five steps. The magician is a six-footer to her measly five feet, and she could only guess that his weight is tripled, like a quarterback. "How can someone so lean be this heavy?"

"It must be my diet," he answers with a cheery hum. "I eat lots of carbohydrates in the mornings, proteins in lunches. Never forget your fruits and veggies in the evening, too!"

"Ah." She makes a face, not amused at the very least.

"I bet you don't eat as much as I do."

"I don't follow a strict diet. Mostly desserts and chocolates when I get my hands on them."

"That's why you're so soft." He shifts and bites softly at the skin on her shoulder. She yelps and he snickers. Her glare tells him she would drop him to the floor and leave him there for good. He relaxes again, behaving like a schoolboy. "You should eat more meat and lessen the sweets, Val. You will be a bowl of sunshine with a sprinkle of diabetes when you reach forty."

"Ha. Hilarious." She rolls her eyes.

"I can give you a recipe if you want."

"Sounds brilliant." Turning at an intersection, she glances at him. "What happened back there? With your fight with Arianne-san? She looked like she had the upper hand, but you defeated her in the last moment."

"It's nothing so special," he replies, somewhat humble. "I never figured out her ability until she started talking and I started feeling the pain. That, and the fact that she's very hot-blooded. I would have guessed her as an Emitter first, but her ability is a Manipulation kind. Therefore, I concluded she's a Manipulator with Emitter characteristics. That's how I figured some parts of her ability−emitting a brand to the target and using it as a medium with which to channel her pain-manipulating abilities."

"And you figured that out? Because of her characteristics?" she repeats, uncomprehending.

"Everyone has their own intricacies, but I always seem to notice that individuals who share the same Nen type have the same characteristics," he explains dutifully. "It's not very credible, but useful enough in some situations… Like my previous match…"

Curious, she tips her head to the side. "Will you tell me more?"

He chuckles indulgently. "Maybe I can guess your category," he offers, admiring the glint in her golden eyes as they walk under the long line of fluorescent lamps.

Her gaze is up ahead, though there's no wonder where her attention is.

"You have a heart, and you bring it everywhere with you. Show it to anyone. I'd say it's a mixture of passion and determination. It's an Enhancer trait; but one look at your nonexistent muscles and physical strength, you're not the Enhancer kind."

She snorts, yet thoughtful as she listens.

"But then you are also independent, at least now, after you left the Troupe's web," he continues. "You seem to like doing everything on your own, driven by curiosity, but you're not loathe sharing the experience with other people." He smirks wider. "A trait of a Specialist."

"You managed to read that from me after two days?"

"At first I was not really sure," he says. "Just a hunch. You can be independent but the Spiders hovering around you so close stop you from completely acting on your own. What does it feel like now? When you're thousands of miles away from their over-protective, over-critical attention?"

Despite herself, despite her reluctance to open up to someone who is practically a stranger to her, Valtiel nods. Even she could not lie to herself. Her memories are not her own, she does not know which ones are dreams and which ones are realities. Hisoka certainly has seen through her in a mere span of two days. She would not lie to herself again, for fear that she would never figure out herself.

With a little nod, she murmurs, "It feels nice."

He smiles, victorious yet again. "I thought so."

That night, they dine on beef sautéed in sauce with sour cream, and then partnered with a fish fillet with eggs, mushrooms, and champagne. The servers from the Arena have delivered the food at their doorstep, at six in the evening, a few hours after Hisoka's match. To Valtiel's relief, Arianne's ability wears off and the magician is back on his feet again. He showers, ridding himself of the "bad smell", before joining the young woman at the table in only his robes and nothing else.

Valtiel wolfs down the food in her plate. It has been a while since she has eaten something what she usually eats. Back in the small house, she is used to cooking simple meals for herself and… She shakes her head and hums at the tasty beef.

"Are you ready to fight tomorrow?" Hisoka asks, swirling his champagne in his glass.

"I might lose. Cato doesn't look like he will want to lose."

"True."

"And you gave him more reason to try and kill me." She narrows her eyes at him.

"That is also true."

"You are not making my Arena challenge any easier, Hisoka-san."

"Are you afraid then?" He rests his chin in his palm and tilts his head slightly.

Without his slicked back hair and the strange face paint under his eyes, he looks like a different person. A normal one. Someone Valtiel would pass in the streets and not think twice if he could kill her or not. Without his usual getup, Hisoka is rather charming, an opinion she would not dare voice out.

She sips at the champagne, and then sticks her tongue out in distaste. Hisoka grins.

"Just nervous. I never fought anyone of his kind yet. The ones from the lower floors are not Nen users, but Cato is."

"Is that why you're using Ren?" He grins. "Training yourself, Val?"

"It's a force of habit," she says with a little shrug. In the window's reflection, she notices the steam-like appearance of her aura, curling upwards like smoke. "Danchou made me use Ren continuously for twelve hours straight once. Needless to say, I almost died that same night."

"You're very fond of him, aren't you?" he pushes, changing the topic. He studies her reaction, the way her aura bursts a little more. She is tensed and he knows it. "And from what I can tell, he is fond of you, too."

"That's rich coming from the newest member of the Troupe," she retorts, misdirecting his attention. "Do you always try to figure people out in your spare time?"

"It keeps me occupied," he says. "And you never answered my question."

There is no misdirecting the curious magician. Damn it.

A knock on the door makes them both stop. Valtiel feels a slight tension hanging in the air. Instead of boosting her aura for defense, she nullifies it, overwhelmed by fear.

Across from her, Hisoka scowls and hides his face as he stands and crosses the room to answer the knocks. He peers through the peephole and finds no one.

Still scowling, he opens the door and finds a note pinned to the wood through a knife. He is careful not to show Valtiel the note or the knife. He reads the terse letter, eyes narrowed, before heaving a deep breath and immediately mustering a cheerful smile as he whirls back to her.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Oh, just some boy running around and playing pranks," he says. He finishes his champagne and saunters to his spot by the bed's floor, where his mattress, pillows, and blanket are in a messy heap. He eases himself onto the mattress and hugs a pillow between his head and arms. "No need to worry."

"That was some fierce aura from a boy," she says, suspicious.

"Some fighters are very strong in this floor. I won't be surprised if children are even very talented."

"Did you see his face? Might be Killua."

"No, it wasn't silver hair and pretty eyes."

Hisoka rolls on his back and sprawls across his makeshift bed, his leg perched up on the other, foot swishing in the air. The hems of his robe fall to the curve of his thigh, his smooth alabaster skin right there for her to see. He smirks, seductive, and snickers as Valtiel turns away to clear the dishes.

"You're so predictable."

"Forgive me if I am not much of an entertainment," she calls from the kitchens. "If you want someone unpredictable, I can think of twelve people whose unpredictability might be of some cheer to you." She leaves the dishes in the sink, not bothering to wash them, and crawls to the bed with a tired sigh.

"No, not at all," says a voice from below. "You're more than entertaining enough for me."

"I am honored." She turns off the lamp and curls under the blanket.

"Tell me a story."

"I already told you one last night."

"Tell me another one."

"Are you a child?" Sleepy golden eyes peer from the edge of the bed. Hisoka's eyes are closed, though his smile is ever present. In this rare moment of serenity, she feels the heaviness of her eyelids. She yawns and embraces a pillow, her head still at the edge, feeling for his movements.

"I'll tell you something I read in a book," she offers. "The story of a princess locked away in a tower."

"I like that," he murmurs.

She starts the story, having remembered it from one of the many book collections back in the house. In her dreamy state−slowly drifting off to sleep herself−if she would ever go back to that house again.

Her match with Cato is just as hard-packed as yesterday, with Hisoka against Arianne. She notices more people today though, men shouting for blood, well knowing that Valtiel is Hisoka's friend and that Cato would surely take vengeance for his twin sister. She expects as much hostility from him, standing across the arena and searching for his green eyes. They are alight with green fire, burning with such hatred that it makes her think twice about fighting him. His aura is impressive as it had been the first night they met, though now it burns with more determination to defeat her.

Cato is wearing a hooded robe over his white martial artist's clothes. Sparing no theatricals, he sheds his robe and flings it out of the arena, the deep and rich satin fabric shimmering under the light. He is barefoot, as his sister was before, with his dark brown hair trimmed in a buzz cut, pulling whatever strands of hair away from his rigid face.

Valtiel adjusts her own clothes: a deep blue jumpsuit with a low-cut neckline, something Hisoka unhelpfully found for her to replace her old white leather blazer and pants, smeared with dried blood for two days. She tugs at the sleeves, slashed with gold-and-black, and tucks her hair behind her ear. Her hair is pulled up into a long ponytail, tight and trailing to the middle of her back.

The referee looks at her, and then to Cato. With an acknowledging nod, he starts the fight.

Unlike Arianne, Cato wastes no time in talking. He immediately rushes in, one powerful kick on the stonefloor, breaking it as he plunges. He stretches both hands out and makes a grab for Valtiel's arm, but she dodges away, defensive instincts kicking in. He growls and follows after her, darting here and there as she keeps evading him. At the last turn, she puts up her right leg to a kick, which he receives head-on with one hand.

Her eyes widen as Cato catches her kick. Standing like a flamingo with one leg stretched out, Valtiel twists in his grasp and uses his hand as a leverage, heaving herself off the floor to deliver a roundhouse kick with her free leg. The man blocks the attack with his other arm and rams her to the floor, banging her head to the stone.

As he looms over her, Valtiel grits her teeth and sweeps her leg under Cato, robbing him of his balance. She forces herself to a stand, attempting to run away again, but Cato blocks her pathway and burdens her with a barrage of punches. She meets his swift punches with her own, misdirecting his fists or pushing them away from her vulnerable parts. Though she almost matches his speed, she is in no condition to match his physical strength. The exchange drains her energy after a few blows. She flexes her nails, claws retracting like a feline−but it seems the man has enough.

Cato jumps back, putting a good distance between them. All around, the crowd gasps in confusion.

She pants, swiping an arm over her sweating forehead. Her claws are out for him to see, though he does not seem troubled by them at least.

"What are you waiting for?" she taunts, searching for a hint of hesitation in him. She finds none when he all but smirks at her. Perhaps taunting him is a bad idea, Val.

"My sister and I watched your fights," Cato says. "Yours and Hisoka's."

He sneers at the grim reminder of what happened yesterday. His little sister, dead by a heel through the eyes. Somewhere in this cheering crowd, he knows the magician is close enough to keep watch on his friend. How Cato wants to kill her, rip her apart, see that pretty face bloodied. Will Hisoka mourn for her?

"You have a very interesting martial art," he continues. Valtiel furrows her brows at him. "The martial art you are using… The one you've mastered and used to disable all of your opponents…" A deep green aura surrounds his entire body, boosting whatever Ten he has been using throughout the fight. He points an index finger at her direction. "That's Death Strike in its finest."

She nods in agreement. There is no need to lie. She could see the years upon years of training, written in his hard-lined face, the bulge of his muscles. She is nowhere near his years of experience and she nods again, in deference to his skill.

The twitch of his lips indicates he is amused. "How long have you trained?"

It is an easy question. She could still remember the night she slapped someone out of desperation, to plead for more time for someone else's life. That slap was a death sentence in itself.

"Two months."

Cato bobs his head. "I never trained in it," he says, his aura growing stronger. He feels the strength in him increase twice, thrice, until his aura could give no more. Still, it is enough to defeat her. "Never heard of Death Strike until now−much thanks to you."

While Valtiel is still mulling over his words, Cato rushes in again. He snatches her wrists and slams his forehead on her chin, the force of it reeling her into unconsciousness, and his hands wrap tightly around her elbow, fingers digging into the flesh and feeling for the bone, for the joint.

The horror dawns into her as he turns her own technique against her, breaking the joints of her elbows and then tossing her aside like a pile of trash. Valtiel winces at the sharp pain registering in her mind. Her elbows dangle in a strange position, hurting but not completely useless. She still has sensations in her fingers, numbing as they may be.

Again, Cato charges and Valtiel dodges in earnest. She cannot block his next barrage of attacks, not when he is using Death Strike for himself and she cannot use her arms to block.

Getting close to him is a death sentence, she berates herself, dodging and darting away across the arena. I can't block, I can't fight back without risking another strike myself.

Cato's face darkens into a maniacal frenzy, intent on defeating her.

She scowls at him. Shall I use my ability? Buy myself enough momentum to defeat him?

Cato lands another punch when she sways at the end of the ring. His fore-knuckles ram to the vulnerable flesh at her throat and chest. The referee rewards him another clean hit. The standing: 3-0.

The pain in her arms never ebbs away. Instead, it worsens, prickling at her flesh and veins, both an irritating and numbing sensation. She levels her opponent as Cato does to her, like two predators squaring off.

Time ticks away, a loud ringing in her ears. A reminder. She has to do something if she does not want to end up with Hisoka carrying her on his back. I have to use Nen. Not just for defense, but offense. I have to disable him to win.

Across the field, Cato assumes a stance so familiar to her. He stands like Akamu, ready to strike. He mirrors Valtiel herself in that position. One more hit from him and she would topple. Her body shudders at the thought of it, suffering broken bones and joints just as her previous opponents did.

Tasting my own medicine, she thinks grimly. How very bitter.

"I should like to think this is over," Cato says over the loud cheering of the audience. "I can tell you have no means to defend yourself from your own techniques. It's a shame, Valtiel. You have a promising talent."

"Thank you," she answers. "But I'll have to tell you that I cannot lose either."

"Is that so?"

"I am afraid so."

With a solemn nod, Cato charges for the final time. He is surprised that Valtiel meets him halfway, given that she has done nothing but defend and evade throughout the match. Now she lunges as well, her arms limp at her sides. He has in mind to break her knees next, to keep her from moving against him again.

But when she suddenly halts in her charge, boots flat on the floor while he is still leaping in midair, Cato knows something is wrong. In the air, in her stance, in the golden aura surrounding her body.

Her aura dispels from her body in a wave of golden sphere. It engulfs Cato as he leaps. His face goes slack, the determination slowly fading from his eyes. His body hovers in midair, exaggeratedly slow, and it sends the announcer and the audience in a state of blank shock.

"What is happening here?!" The announcer shouts into her microphone. The cameras in the arena show how Cato's body is still suspended in the air, engulfed by an aura invisible to normal people. "It seems Cato is soaring through the air, but he is not moving! Not at all! What kind of technique did Valtiel use?!"

One that ensures my victory. Valtiel flexes her fingers and grits at the pain.

With a few more seconds left to lose, she charges towards Cato's unsuspecting self and proceeds breaking his major joints−shoulder, elbows, knees, and hips−and then kicks him at the last second, the golden sphere dissipating just as she sends him flying across the field and out of the ring. He smashes on the concrete wall beneath the audience.

In the large television screen, the referee comes to his side and gasps. Cato's neck is broken from the assault, along with his every limb. The blood clots under his olive skin, turning it into a dark shade of purple.

Both referee and announcer declare Valtiel the winner by total knockout. She smiles at the cheering crowd, and then disappears into the dark tunnel that leads back to the 200th floor lobby.

At the intersection, Hisoka smiles and holds out his arms for her. "You fought well," he commends her. "Do you want me to carry you back to our room?"

She sighs, exhausted down to the core. "If only you'd spare me your senseless talking."

"I promise." He picks her up and hoists her over his back, as her head rolls against his shoulder. "Did you manage to figure out his ability?" His promises are short-lived, it seems.

"A little." Out of habit, her nose nuzzles against his skin, his red-purple hair. Unconsciously, she inhales his scent, a sweet familiar scent. Chocolate? "His aura capacity is impressive, but nowhere near Troupe level. His ability… I am not so sure, though it centers on picking up someone else's techniques and utilizing them as his own…"

"Ah, very true. What do you think his category is?"

"Enhancer?" She shrugs.

"Yes, and I thought his ability is appropriate for his nature," he chirps. "Enhanced mastery over martial arts, I believe. That is why both his offense and defense are top notch. If it weren't for your ability, you could have suffered more than broken elbows." He glances at her, taking in her sleepy face. "Now that I mentioned it, what exactly does your Nen ability do?"

"You will have to figure that out by yourself," she murmurs.

"Sounds fun."

She is fast asleep before he could even walk out of the tunnel. In this closeness, he could smell the sweat and traces of fear and adrenaline from the previous match. He smiles to himself. "How very cute."

Author's Notes: Despite the hectic schedule, I really wanted to update today —November 05 —because it is Chrollo and Valtiel's birthdate in this story! (Too bad Val's spending this chapter hanging out with Hisoka and Chrollo's out there brooding probably). But I got distracted by pizza and now I'm updating this story a few mins into November 06. LMAO. I've got not much to say for this chapter, except Hisoka is kicking ass as usual and Val is... well, Val is still learning how to fight.

*HuangShaotian0005 - I should probably write a side chapter where Chrollo is just plain brooding and the Spiders are like "Danchou, are you ok?" and Chrollo will just turn around with puppy eyes and a quiet, "No :(". Then there's Hisoka on the other side of the world eating chicken nuggets with Val... probably!

*Blackcat cutecat - Thank you very much! Glad that you love the story so far! And if it comes to the point where Val has to die, I'm not sure who will lose their shit first: Chrollo and the Troupe, or Kurapika. Guess we'll have to find out!

*Amy - Yay, I'm alive! I love Killua and Illumi to bits! More HisoVal in the upcoming chapters while Danchou broods in a corner. ;)

*Guest - I'm glad you like the story! Thank you for leaving a review!

Have a great week, everyone!