Chapter two: Double Negative

Killua blinks a few times, surprised as he's once again oddly reminded of Gon. To be strong enough to stand by your side, Killua!

Only a certain type of idiot would say something like that and mean it, after all. Nanami looks at Gojo with a raised, unimpressed eyebrow, but the man only shrugs, looking satisfied with himself. Killua watches the exchange blankly, finger tapping his cheek.

Gojo could try to play whatever roll he wanted to, he wasn't fooling Killua, and neither was his friend. It's been a while since Killua has heard something so stupid though, and it makes him feel a little bit like smiling, for some reason.

Killua says slowly after a moment, if only to get himself out of his own thoughts in case his body betrays him and he actually does smile or something stupid, "But you also want my DNA, because you think we're related, right?"

"Right! You catch on quick!" Gojo claps his hands together with apparent satisfaction, and Killua suddenly gets the feeling that this is what the man has been hoping for this entire time. Gojo tilts his head down, white bangs brushing his forehead as he smirks, looking at him from over his drooping shades, "I think it's a pretty fair trade, considering you're going to be seeing curses for the rest of your life, ne?"

For the rest... "Really! No way!" Killua slaps a hand to his forehead at the realization. He hadn't even considered that possibility!

Does this mean Alluka and Nanika have been able to see the curses this whole time? Were the monsters under her bed meant quite so literally? Some big brother he was, for not being able to notice such a thing for so long, until now.

His parents wouldn't have lied to him about Nanika being a curse at the very least, or The Dark Continent, a taboo topic never spoken of otherwise. He only knew as much as he did about The Dark Continent because of Kurapika's research into the Genei Ryodan, and even then the information was scarce. It was rumored that Meteor City was located in The Dark Continent, the city of horrific legends, the place where the Phantom Troupe supposedly originated, but there was never any concrete proof besides someone else's word being passed along.

When it became clear that Killua was the only person able to really refuse Alluka and Nanika without exploding into bits of flesh and blood, he had been forced into the roll as her caretaker when he was five, unless he wanted to condemn his sister to a life of solitude inside of the mountain. With only the butterflies painted on her bedroom walls to talk to.

Killua was the only one who visited her, who combed the knots out of her hair and sang her and Nanika to sleep. That was mainly why he wanted to show her the world, because of his guilt for letting his family hide her away from it for so long, all because he had been too scared to refuse.

The rest of their family had promptly wiped their hands clean from raising her, as an assassin or their child. From the day he was given the responsibility, she may as well have not existed to anyone but him. Nanika was simply too volatile, Alluka too ignorant, they were scared.

It was only then that Killua realized that they had revealed their cards to him. That Nanika was something not even they understood. That even his parents had something they were afraid of.

It looks like he's going to have to make up for a lot more than just his absence, that is, when he finally manages to find Alluka and Nanika again. He still has to think about how he plans on avoiding his family to get her back from the mountain again, that is, if that's even where she is right now…

Killua pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand that had already been placed over his forehead, before dragging it down his face with a groan. For some reason a full night's rest only ever makes him more tired.

"Look," He starts, glancing at the patiently waiting pair only to sigh again. If he had known how much of a headache it would become, he would have done a better job at blending in with the crowd. "I can't just leave Tokyo, okay? I have certain… commitments here."

Nanami raises an entirely unimpressed eyebrow, gaze purposely giving the room another quick, distasteful scan, before landing back on Killua again. His judgment is as obvious as the spotted pattern on his tacky tie, lip curling. "You mean the sex workers."

He means his sister, so Killua shrugs. Then he grins a bit cheekily, peeking over at the two with an innocent shrug as an explanation. "They're nice. Besides, none of them can see the mon- the curses."

He doesn't mention the fact that he doesn't know what his eventual departure could mean exactly for the ladies. He hadn't really thought about it until now.

The presence of these two has been a much needed wake up call anyhow, clearly Killua needs to start being more pragmatic if he's going to find his sister again any time soon. It's been a long week, and if she wasn't going to come to him, he'd just have to do everything he can to catch back up to her.

"Hmm, and you're concerned to leave them unprotected, aww, Killua, that is so precious~!" Gojo hums a tune, tilting his head side to side in a little dance, looking pleased as he coos at Killua. He's like a completely different person compared to the blank faced man that had been standing in the hallway not a couple minutes ago, holding onto Yuna-san's arm. "My son is already a womanizer, Nanamin. I am so proud of you!"

Killua ignores the enthusiastic double thumbs up Gojo is pointing in his direction again. He stands up from his seat on the floor, dismissing the conversation while tucking his hands back into his pockets. "So, you get it then."

"Absolutely not!" The corner of Gojo's lip quirks up at Killua's obvious annoyance, rocking back on his heels with a smirk that slowly falls the longer he stares at him. It is kind of freaky how similar they really look, Killua has to admit. It feels a little like staring in a funhouse mirror. "I'm sorry Killua, but you can't hide from this anymore. It might be a bit selfish of me for not wanting you to, either, so I am sorry about that too, if that counts for anything."

"You are terrible at this, Satoru." Nanami looks as if he could be made of stone, robotically watching Gojo shove his foot further and further into his own mouth. "Please, for all of our sakes, be quiet for five minutes. You have done nothing but make this difficult."

Nanami sighs as Gojo simply makes a face at him, before running a hand through his hair, even though it falls right back into the same place over his forehead. His eyes look narrowed behind his goggles, or maybe he was just glaring at Killua. "What this idiot is struggling to explain is that he and I are both affiliates with Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, a school designated for the purpose of training Jujutsu Sorcerers to fight curses."

"Ehh, you guys have whole schools based on this thing?" Clearly Killua has been looking into the wrong areas for the answers to the sudden existence of monsters in this city. All this time spent lurking in the red light district, when it turns out he should have been checking out the pre-schools. Tokyo is so weird.

Nanami stares down at him unflinchingly, tone strict with the gravity of what he was trying to relay. He doesn't seem too impressed with Killua's unserious attitude. "Yes, and that is where we are proposing to take you, to help you learn to become a sorcerer yourself. Make no mistake, Killua, there is no other option for you at this point, not if you value your life."

If I value my life, huh? They sure were trying to make this all seem pretty dramatic. And maybe the threats would have worked, if Killua were any other kid.

"How generous of you, to care about my life." Nanami only scowls more at Killua's dismissive words, the man's forearms tensing as his hands clench into fists. Killua rolls his eyes at the weak show of intimidation, "Seriously. You don't honestly expect me to believe a word either of you are saying right? What's in it for you to help me out anyway?"

"There are certain, unavoidable responsibilities to being a Gojo, especially if you have the ability to see curse spirits," Gojo looks down at him without an expression, the familiar shade of blue staring right back over the rim of his shades. However in this lighting, his eyes almost seem to sheen at Killua. "Though I suppose that DNA test could immediately absolve you from having to worry about all that nonsense, huh? So… What do you say, then, about a little adventure, Killua?"

Killua raises his eyebrow again. These two are nothing but persistent about that DNA test, so maybe it hadn't just been a ploy to get at him, perhaps these idiots actually thought they were somehow related. That, or all they really needed from him was his DNA, for whatever reason.

Either way, Killua can smell the bullshit radiating off these two from a mile away, it's stronger than that foul nen of theirs, cursed energy or whatever they called it, anyway. They clearly wanted something from him and it wasn't just to discuss paternity results.

It could have something to do with his nen, maybe. Killua still can't determine whether they can sense it or not, but he can assume that if somebody could it would be them, and it would probably be just as interesting to them as their aura is to Killua. He'd probably want to check it out too honestly.

It could very well be a trap, going to this Jujutsu school. They could have just as easily ambushed him here, true, but they could also be waiting for less witnesses to be loitering around, hence their want to bring him to this school of theirs.

Whatever their reason may be... Maybe this curse stuff they are talking about could somehow lead him back to Nanika. Maybe, it's the piece of the puzzle Killua is currently missing. That is, if they aren't lying about everything.

There is really only one way for him to figure out whether they are lying about all this stuff or not, and that's to check it out for himself. That doesn't solve the sudden problem of leaving Taikyoku, however, but he might not be left with a choice. Killua is fairly certain that if he stays away from the brothel for too long, the monsters are just dumb enough to come creeping back.

Killua's finding it exceedingly hard to imagine Nanika as one of the same curses he's seen wandering around Tokyo, wriggling with multiple eyes and rows of jutted teeth chattering from dark alleys. There was obviously something that makes her so different from the rest. There could actually be some merit to checking this place out.

"I guess I could come check out this school of yours, but like I said I have commitments here." Killua turns on the spot and walks over to his futon, never really turning his back fully on the other two, past the point of doubting their skill. He pulls out his long sleeve and t-shirt combination from under the blanket and pulls it over his head, patting over the right pocket for his Hunters license to make sure it hadn't got lost in the blankets.

He takes the moment to quietly adjust his shirt, fixing the shoulders of his long sleeve layer as he considers their offer. The scars and yellowed bruises from his broken fingers are making good work of fading because of his constant use of Ten, but the bruises along his spinal cord were being particularly difficult because of their location in his nervous system. If he had been anyone else, the force of Illumi slamming his back into the ground would have paralyzed him.

The bruises catch unnecessary attention, their vibrancy like black paint against his pale skin tone, it's annoying. It caught eyes out on the streets at least, when he first made the mistake of taking off his outer layers, but it was currently midsummer. The unwavering glare of the sun makes the asphalt radiate heat across the city like it's warm blooded, he's stuck in an unfamiliar, concrete jungle.

The ladies were pretty desensitized to his bruises by this point, but his injuries had been what caught Asuna-san's and Yuri-san's attention in the first place, that day when they had been smoking back in the alley and caught him walking by.

That probably explains Yuna-san's behavior towards these guys at the very least, the ladies probably thought he was being abused by this weirdo or something. That or they believed the man's little fib and think Killua is a runaway delinquent who doesn't like to do his homework, though he's sure they had already been thinking that about him.

Tokyo, Japan is very different from any of the countries back home, it doesn't matter if being a Hunter makes Killua a legal adult in the eyes of the law, because the laws here in Tokyo are completely different, and kind of ridiculous.

Killua thumbs his Hunter's license in the pocket of his shirt before shrugging and deciding to pull it out. He holds it out for either of the men to grab, which Gojo does after a momentary pause. "Do either of you recognize this?"

The man holds the white card by pinching the corner, raising it up to his eyes as his white brows hike up with exaggeration as he looks over the design. Nanami leans in closer as well, frowning as he looks over his license without seemingly any recognition.

Gojo hums, flipping the card from front to back with about as much consideration as a dirty napkin. He'd probably handle it a lot more carefully if he knew how much those things can go for on the black markets. "Well, I can't read whatever gibberish that it's supposed to be saying, and it doesn't look like a Pokémon card, exactly…"

"Pokémon?" When his question only gets two, identical blank looks from the men, Killua snatches his license back with a grumble, shoving it back into his pocket. Well, it was worth a shot. "Whatever, nevermind then. Fine, let's check out this school of yours then. I was feeling pretty bored before you guys showed up, anyway."

"Fantastic Timing!" Gojo crows, clapping his hands together with a bright, victorious laugh, willing to completely disregard the card issue. He was probably thinking what everyone else in this city does when Killua tried to show them his Hunter's license; Stupid kid.

Gojo suddenly drops one of his hands out, as if offering for Killua to shake on it as he smirks, a bit coy. He wiggles his fingers pointedly when Killua only stares. "Well, what are we waiting around here for, then? Do we have a deal?"

His En is still activated so he doesn't sense anything off with Gojo's strange aura or his partner's, there's no movement other than a couple of the ladies walking around Taikyoku outside of the room, probably trying to eavesdrop in on their conversation.

Killua shrugs and reaches out his hand. "Sure, we have a deal."

The moment their palms connect, Killua immediately regrets his decision. A flare of powerful, monster energy engulfs him, a bowl of flames with scorching heat floods over his entire body like a tsunami.

He can feel the clash of curse energy as it molds itself over his life force, skidding and twirling together unnaturally like oil and water being shook in a closed bottle. A sick feeling wells up in his throat as the world spins into a pin prick around him.

Emotion rattles in his chest like a bird trying to escape a small cage and as the world comes back to clarity around him, Killua skids back immediately, yanking his hand free from Gojo's limp grasp.

For a moment the light is too bright, the sounds are too loud, that lingering sense of curse energy doesn't fade this time, it sinks into his bloodstream and aims directly for the heart.

Thud. Killua stumbles slightly as he grabs at his chest, activating a layer of Ren on instinct around his chest to protect it as his heart pounds away. His eyes are blown open wide, pupils dilating and expanding in a pucker. What the hell was that?

For his part, Gojo simply watches this unfold, dropping his still outstretched hand to hang limply at his side. He tilts his head a bit, brows furrowed as he frowns at Killua, glancing towards where he's harshly grabbing at his heaving chest. "What's wrong, Killua? You look a little freaked out."

First and foremost, "Never do that again." Killua demands severely, slowly readjusting his stance from hunching over himself defensively. Now that he looks around again, the glare of the afternoon sun is easily dismissable.

They're standing in the middle of the street of what looks to be a completely different residential neighborhood in Tokyo.

Killua slowly rubs the side of his hand into his sternum painfully, feeling the muscle of his heart pushing against his ribcage like it wants to escape. This Gojo guy is far more powerful than he looks.

Killua swallows as he takes in the new scenery, never really looking away from the white haired sorcerer with a sudden reluctance and seriousness. His dark, monster like aura doesn't so much as waver around him, clinging to the man like a second skin. I underestimated him.

The only person Killua has known to be able to teleport that far outside of using En or a specialization nen ability, was Nanika. The scales feel like they are slowly tipping.

Gojo waves him off with a bark of a teasing laugh, seemingly ignorant to the sudden tension in the air between them, thick like a physical weight. A breeze goes by in the air, and then it's gone. "Psh, don't be such a spoilsport Killua. You're fiiinee. Besides, this obviously isn't the school, I just wanted a chance to talk to you privately before anything else."

Is this the point where they try to kill each other? As the seconds tick by Killua tries to gather more of a grip on his tact, however, staring at this man now… He can't help but feel Outclassed. It's an instinctual acknowledgement, one he usually gets after staring his grandfather or parents in the eye.

His nen still feels different, it feels like even though Killua is suppressing his bloodlust as usual, a part of it is leaking through anyway, and it's leaking fast. It was almost like the man had poked a bunch of holes in his Zetsu.

A bead of sweat trails down the back of Killua's neck, under the neckline of his shirts. "Okay. What?"

"It's a very important question," Gojo intones seriously, looking down. He looks up with sudden ferocity the next moment however, pointing a finger towards Killua with an intense focus. "How old are you?"

Killua blinks, before scoffing and briefly looking off to the side as a car drives down a street a few blocks away from where they are standing. His hands find his pockets again, thumbing his fifty-ton yoyos.

Killua hasn't felt this off kilter since facing Neferpitou, and it's making him twitch. Would Gojo be fast enough to dodge my yoyos? "That's it? Why do you want to know, pervert?"

Gojo looks around the empty street, laughing loudly and slightly panicked as if they had an audience anyway. "I already told you Killua, I'm not a pervert! Maybe I just want to get to know my precious son better."

"As far as you know until we get that DNA test, I'm not your son. I can even save you the trouble right now by telling you, we are not related." Killua looks at Gojo coldly, the remnants of the man's aura still clinging to his nen and sinking in like a swarm of ticks, an unwanted presence.

"I already know my mother and father, and they are decidedly not you." Killua mutters darkly, thoughts taking a nose dive as he thinks about his parents.

Killua can feel a familiar void pooling in his heart, a slick loathing curls around his mind that reminds him of a thousand deaths by his own hand, of a needle stuck between his brows for years whispering to kill kill kill kill. His hand twitches, and for a moment he thinks he might have unknowingly activated his claws.

Whatever Gojo did to bring them here, it was seriously messing with Killua's bloodlust, and his head. To have that kind of power, and be able to suppress it into next to nothing…

This man, Gojo Satoru, is a monster.

This cursed energy of theirs, is undoubtedly a force to reckon with. It's sticking with him like a poison even though for the longest time Killua thought he was immune to all poisons.

It makes him nervous, angry, a bit hot and cold all at the same time. Trying to suffocate him in it. It doesn't help that the person most likely to have all the answers is the cause for his unease, for the feeling of a monster like nen invading his own.

It kind of reminds him distantly of Wing-sensei, actually. How he had first felt when the man tried to kill him.

Maybe this man was also trying to decide whether to kill Killua or not. He sure as hell could try, and with that bloodlust like nen, he just might very well be able to manage it, too.

Gojo's full, untethered killing intent was probably something to marvel at, if this is what only a fraction of his power could do to Killua. To worm its way into his bloodstream like an infection, like a curse.

Have I been cursed, is that what this is? Killua rubs at his aching chest once more before dropping his hand and clenching it into a fist. His very life force feels like it's being messed with, he hasn't felt anything remotely this jarring since he first unlocked his nen. It's not a pleasant feeling. It makes him want to hurt something.

Killua looks up at the nonchalant man through his lashes, finally serious. If Gojo is aware of the effect he has on Killua's nen right now, he clearly wasn't going to say anything about it. "Are you going to kill me, Gojo-san?"

Gojo seems caught between wanting to argue, and regarding him with a pensive, mutually curious expression on his face. "I can't say I haven't considered it, Killua."

The man continues to stare at him thoughtfully, unmoving from his spot ten feet away on the street. The sun almost makes Gojo's eyes look like they're reflected like a pool of water from behind his shades, a trick of the light maybe.

His tone is far too nonchalant for the hateful feeling spreading in Killua's chest anyway, probing at him like he could tell Killua was about to snap. "Does that upset you?"

"Would it upset you, if I told you I'd been thinking the same thing?" Seeing as they seemed to be reaching a sort of stalemate in the conversation, Killua decides to concede as Gojo merely narrows his eyes at him, if only in an attempt to ignore the feeling of cursed energy poking at his soul. "I'm twelve years old, by the way. Not that it matters. Are we going to stand in the middle of the street all day or were you kidding about teaching me about all this curse nonsense?"

"I was being serious but, ah, are you sure about that now Killua? Because," Another breeze is the only shift in the stalemate on the street, their duel standoff almost frozen in time. Gojo levels a frank look towards him, gaze lowered. "You just look like you really want to kill me."

"Ah, sorry," So he did notice. Maybe he could see how badly Killua was struggling to hold in his thrashing Ren, struggling to taper down his leaking bloodlust because whatever Gojo did to him hurts. "I'm trying not to."

Cursed energy coils and furrows and digs and probes at his nen like it's trying to make room for itself, intertwining whether Killua likes it or not. Something is really wrong. The punctures in his Zetsu feel like they are expanding, licking and clawing at him with his sheer killing intent.

Killua learned to kill long before he learned how to love, after all. It's the one thing he can always resonate so unfaltering with.

The familiar darkness always consumes him until there is nothing left. Death follows Killua's echoed footsteps like a promise, no matter where he goes. Murderer.

Nanika had probably done them all a favor actually, banishing him to a cursed continent. Monster.

The rubber band snaps and his Zetsu completely vanishes. Never before has Killua felt his bloodlust so intently, so potent and raw he can see it flume out the nearby surrounding area like a bomb. It's a hate that drives deep into the bones, straight to the marrow.

The city skyline explodes into a swirling, curdling purple, his nen spikes in waves with sheer intensity, expanding far past his normal range of Ren. The entire block is one wrong move away from a massacre. It's been a while since Killua has seriously entered assassin mode. Since he's wanted to kill someone so much.

With the intensity of an inescapable fate, Killua raises his swirling eyes to meet Gojo's gaze, the man frozen in place down the street. I'll kill you.

"What a scary look on your face, Killua..." Gojo mutters sternly after he manages to shake off his initial shock, removing his glasses and tossing them to the side as his hair blows back from the sheer force of Killua's bloodlust. This power…

For the longest time Gojo Satoru had thought that he alone was the chosen one. However, right now, the scales feel like they are slowly tipping on him.

A cinched, wild grin begins to warp the man's expression, a crazed intensity making Gojo's pupils prick to the size of a pin drop as he starts to laugh like a complete maniac. "I might even have to get serious here."

Meanwhile…

Nanami stares at the empty space where Satoru and Killua had once been standing, frowning while digging his thumb into the space between his eyebrows with frustration. That idiot really just left him here.

"Satoru," He growls, just as the door to the room opens up with a crisp snap without Satoru's infinity holding it shut. Nanami can suddenly only stare at the group of four waiting ladies at the door, looking steadily incensed the longer he just blankly looks at them without explanation.

Slowly, his head turns to look back at the empty space in the room, right next to him, where a little white haired boy is supposed to be standing with his 'father.'

I'm going to kill him.

Killua is going to kill him. Electricity bursts forth from his core like a stuttered detonation, lashing out in wide lightning strikes that forces the man to take a wide jump back and backslide.

Gojo's eyes are blown wide, the reach of static electricity hums in the air so thick he can taste it, vibrating the hairs on his tongue, lifting the strands of his bangs up against gravity. The man's blue eyes look like the lighting, the glow of a flashbang, two spinning mirrors reflecting Killua's electricity in shock.

Killua doesn't give either of them the chance to think, God Speed trickles down to his calves, the voltage spearing into the bones of his legs like connector rods. He runs across the street in half a second, gaze as sharp as his claws. He's stolen a thousand hearts this way, and he'll probably steal a thousand more just the same, without so much as a drop of blood spilt on the ground.

Precision focus zeros in on Gojo, his clawed hand burns with the intensity of the electricity he's conducting through his nen. His body moves in auto pilot, repeating a lifelong dance through muscle memory.

Killua catches the man's eyes cracking open wider a fraction more before Gojo vanishes, seconds before Killua's sharpened nail could scrape the fabric of his shirt over his heart. The signature of the man's cursed energy disappears, if only for a split second.

Behind me! Killua follows the momentum of his killing blow, squatting down as Gojo appears behind him suddenly while aiming a roundhouse kick for Killua's head. His En feels like it's running on overdrive, combining with his natural instincts, electric burns singes at his bloodstream, the purest form of adrenalin.

As Gojo aims another jab at his back, Killua lets his Ren burst from him again, a fresh wave of crackling lighting explodes from him and sends the man flying back. The power of it strikes up into the air, arcing electricity branches reach the hydro lines lining the street and like the tallest tree in an empty field, the lighting strikes down to greet Killua eagerly.

In concession five fuses of the powerline explode into sparks, raining down the length of the street as black power cords frey and melt completely under the heat. A surge of voltage hits Killia directly like a bullet train, greeting his own electricity and fusing like two negatives to make one, positive, mass of energy.

If I don't stop now, Cursed energy and his life force wage a war in his bloodlust like propelling forces, clouding his judgment. The entire block glows a hue of blue, humming with static. He could make this entire city blackout if he wanted to. I'm really going to kill them all.

That thought, for some reason, is what makes Killua pause, if only for a moment. It's enough of an opening for Gojo to swing another kick in his direction and this time it lands, swiping Killua aside at the ribcage like a cannonball blast.

The force of the blow sends him hurtling through the air, Killua can only follow his momentum as something in his chest cracks, he must have fractured a rib. Did Gojo infuse his kick with Ko?

Killua grits his teeth, reaching out a hand and the movement is enough to unsteady him airborne, twisting him until he's rolling to a stop on the concrete. The volts kiss his skid burns like antiseptic and Killua looks up from the pavement angrily, muscles tensing to launch himself forward again.

"Domain expansion," Gojo mutters severely from several feet away, a hand rising up to hover next to his shoulder as he crosses two fingers, like making a wish.

His white hair is flying above him against gravity, just as wildly as Killua's because of the abundant static crackling through the air, the skin on his cheek looks a bit singed. Gojo's pupils have expanded to the width of his irises, the emptiness of a black hole stares down at Killua. "Infinite void."

The world turns off at a flick. Lights out.