Chapter three: Reverse Curse

"This is a new low even for you, Satoru."

"I know."

"So what happened?"

"Honestly?" He follows Shoko's unimpressed gaze staring down at Killua, passed out and lying completely still in the bed. Asleep like this, with his young face completely relaxed, the kid almost looks peaceful.

"I underestimated him."

It's dark.

The human soul is a glowing essence, a ball of energy that whisps. It provides the only light in this black void.

But there is something different this time, in Killua's core. Hovering right next to it in similar shape nestles an offshoot of the human soul, an unavoidable black mass even in this endless abyss.

The part he's known that's always been there, is a tangible thing now. The part that stares right back when you look at it.

The hate.

Killua moves a hand forward even though he's not sure which one he's reaching for, exactly.

The two floating apparitions are exactly the same size.

Eh? Killua blinks up at the back of his hand, reaching up towards an unfamiliar ceiling. His eyes widen with realization. Gojo!

He sits upright immediately, looking left and right around the small room in panic. He only settles down as he realizes he's alone, sitting in a small bed adjacent to a closed door. What happened?

Killua grasps at his chest, feeling his irregular heartbeat. But it feels… lighter, somehow. Lighter than before at least, standing in the street with the intent to kill so strong it felt like it was tearing his soul apart.

There's a small, open window on the left wall of the room, the plain white curtains blow in with the breeze he'd think would be cool, but the summer heat makes it warm, even as the sun sets and the sky paints an orange and pink collage behind chameleon-like clouds. My nen… Killua moves his hand from his chest and clenches it into a tight fist, staring down at it with a frown. Using Ryu he guides 70% of his aura into his fist and aims to punch the bedside table into smithereens-

The memory of two fingers crossed, like making a wish flashes in Killua's mind. The sorcerer's energy is clinging to the corners of this room and Killua's clothes, the remaining residuals of Gojo's aura is an unwanted perfume in the air. So that's why I thought he was here-

Thud. A burst of Killua's killing intent flares up against his will. This feeling… It wobbles the precipice of Ryu already guiding his nen towards his fist, his fingertips suddenly tingle with the flaring energy of a curse.

His infused fist hovers frozen in place moments before it can make contact with the table. The focus of his aura dissolves into nothing, the vanishing sight of the spiking white of his nen mingling with an unnaturally waving, deep, bloody purple sends his heart richeting in his chest. As his aura returns to him, so does the cursed energy.

What else could this be? Killua recalls how his bloodlust had completely overwhelmed him. Not even in his worst moments can he remember wanting to deliver such mass devastation, and yet. If Gojo hadn't stopped him…

An uneasy, sick feeling blooms in his stomach like weeds, the feeling of rot. Killua swallows thickly, staring at his now open palm, small crescent shaped indents in his skin from his nails. A trail of blood leaks down from one crease, over the curl of his thumb. Has the day finally come…

Killua stares at his blood dripping onto the blue blanket beneath him, deathly contemplative. The red drops spread, almost looking like purple ink in the thin fabric. Have I finally lost myself?

A part of him used to wonder what it took to become a worse monster than even him, someone born with the name kill and cultivated to do just that. What it would take to defeat someone like Hisoka and his brother, Illumi, The Phantom Troupe and Neferpitou… To defeat someone like Satoru Gojo.

At what point does a person sell their soul, Killua thought he used to know, he thought he had made the realization far earlier in his life. He had thought that people like them- Monsters like them- It was a type of power he could only achieve with age and experience, that if he and Gon trained hard enough, maybe one day they could surpass even them.

However, if instead the difference were to appear in the form of an awakening, like nen, like the other arm to your body…

Like realizing you could and would desecrate an entire residential sector filled with civilians, innocent men, women and children without so much as the blink of an eye.

A thousand more, huh?

The door suddenly slides open, carefully to be purposefully quiet, but the woman standing just outside of the doorway only stares at him in complete shock as she looks up from her cellphone.

Killua squints his eyes at her in surprise and suspicion, frozen on the bed. She has cursed aura hovering around her, just like Gojo and Nanami.

The woman's mouth drops open, the cigarette hanging from the corner of her lips so precariously it could tip to the floor at any moment as she blinks widely at him. "You're awake!"

"Who're you?" Killua scans over her lab coat and business attire, the deep shadows under her eyes. She looks like she gets even less sleep than him. She must be one of them, the Jujutsu Sorcerers. Killua feels tense enough to throw himself out the open window. "Where am I?"

The woman's mouth slowly closes from its surprise. Her eyes look him over again, lips puckering slightly as the embers on the end of her cigarette glow brighter. After another moment of consideration she steps into the room, quietly sliding the door shut behind herself.

"We are inside the residential ward of Tokyo Metropolitan Technical Jujutsu High School." Smoke trails between her lips as she speaks through the muffle of her cigarette. The woman shoves her hands and phone into her white-coat pockets, the point of her high-heels clicking against the wooden floor as she walks towards the window leisurely, seemingly indifferent to his clear suspicion. "It is 6:11 pm. And my name, brat, is Ieiri Shoko."

Killua watches through narrowed eyes as the woman casually leans against the wall next to the window frame. She lifts a hand to absently tuck the curtains aside as if to look at the view outside better, but her gaze glances to the side to stare at him instead. "You?"

"You don't already know?" Killua challenges in return, meeting her probing gaze head on. If he really was at the Tokyo Metropa-Whatever School, then it was Gojo Satoru who brought him here, and that means that she would know the man, and is probably one of his associates. The cursed aura hovering around her person only confirms the connection.

Killua doesn't have to feel his pockets to know his belongings are still there, but it makes sense, they probably didn't see much of a threat in letting a kid keep a useless card and a pair of yoyos. Without infusing his nen constantly into his yoyos to activate the weight or electricity, they were as good as useless, anyway.

"How troublesome." The woman suddenly complains with a mutter instead, looking away from his glare and to the side with a heavy sigh. The line of built up ash at the tip of her cigarette drops to the floor, not that she seems to notice, as smoke swirls towards the ceiling in gray lines. "You're just like him."

"I resent that." Killua blandly refutes, having an inkling to who she was referring to. "Don't associate me with that weirdo."

The cigarette in her mouth tips as Ieiri smirks with a huff. She glances at him coyly when he doesn't say anything else. "Humor me then, will you? Unless you just want me to call you brat, brat?"

After a tense moment of thought, Killua finally sighs and sits cross-legged on the bed. His elbow leans on his right knee, his chin resting on the curl of his knuckles as he stares at the woman, resigned. "Killua."

"I'm surprised you're even functioning right now, to be honest, Killua." Her hand grabs the white stick from between her lips, briefly flicking it to the side to shake off more ash before she turns to fully face the window and away from his blank gaze.

Her arms rest on the ledge of the opened half of the window, the warm breeze blows the smoke back into the room and into her long brown hair. There is a distant look in her dull eyes. "Better people have stayed comatose for far longer because of that idiot. So, congratulations."

Comatose? Killua blanches a bit at her frankly spoken words, lifting his head from his hand slightly. "Really?"

"Really." Ieiri peeks at him from the side of her eye, cigarette bobbing between her words, her tone completely void of any emotion. "You would have to be pretty strong to avoid the repercussions of Satoru's domain expansion."

Killua sits up straighter at the familiar term with a jerk, the memories of earlier hitting him like a slap. "Domain expansion…" He mutters.

The vision of two fingers crossed, as if making a wish. Gojo Satoru staring him down, the man's pupils blown so wide they looked as black as the space between the stars, swallowing the iris whole. "Infinite void."

He must have lost consciousness. Tch. How annoying.

"Mhm." Ieiri hums nonchalantly, turning to lean her hip against the wall under the window as she loosely crosses her arms. She offers Killua a leveled look suddenly, one that matches her tone as she says seriously, "If you had been in his domain any longer, you would have become a vegetable. Or you would have simply died, if you were lucky."

Seriously? Killua frowns. Though he supposes he gets about the same results from his lightning. He just can't remember what happened after Gojo muttered those words, the details of why he blacked out, are blacked out.

The realization hits him suddenly and Killua can't help but think of all the people he almost just left behind, if Gojo had simply decided to kill him while he was helpless. Alluka. Gon. I'm sorry, I can't seem to stop being selfish.

Where would he have left Alluka, as probably the only person in the entire world who cares about her, if he-

Killua freezes up, torn from his thoughts as a flare up of Gojo's energy appears from just beyond the closed door, too intense to be the fading remnants of the man's presence.

He's here. Killua's eyes widen, tensing up completely once more as his head snaps in the direction of the door just before it starts to slide open.

He couldn't- Did the brat sense him outside the door somehow? Shoko stares at the boy with narrowed eyes, inhaling more smoke deeply as her theories begin to spiral.

The skidmark on the kid's steadily bruising cheek is peppering with tiny blots of blood because of the movement of his eerily familiar, crinkling face. Not that the brat seems to notice as he simply continues to glare at his older, mirror image standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"You really are awake." Gojo mutters in faint surprise, like he wouldn't be able to quite believe it unless he was staring directly at Killua himself. There's a thin, black cloth wrapped around his head, covering the man's eyes and yet he looks directly at Killua as if he can see him just fine anyway.

Is this guy serious? Killua only glares harder at the words and the ridiculous outfit, hands clenching bunches of the blankets underneath him. He remembers two fingers crossing next to a shoulder, as if making a wish. And then, lights out.

Was it a wish? Like Nanika? The thought is not a pleasant one.

Whatever this 'Domain expansion' of Gojo's is, wish or not, is a kill-shot. Like the chop of Killua's hand to the back of the neck, a move that's knocked out more people in his life than he can remember.

"Obviously." Killua snaps out, crossing his arms tightly to his chest as he suspiciously watches the man's movements, more specifically his hands, in case Gojo tries to make another wish or something. It wouldn't be hard to draw upon his nen again and resume their fight, they clearly wouldn't be expecting it from Killua right now. The element of surprise is on his side. The cursed aura would flow into his nen again like clay to mold, hate in the palm of Killua's hand-

But at what cost?

Gojo finally steps into the room, closing the door quietly behind himself as he starts to slowly smile. His masked face glances towards Ieiri, and his smile looks a touch too genuine for Killua to realistically believe.

The man spreads his arms out wide and throws his head back dramatically, as if expecting the woman to run into his arms in a desperate embrace, tears streaming down his face. "I could kiss you, Shoko."

"Don't you dare," Ieiri retorts with a speed that would put Killua's godspeed to shame. The woman huffs again, sending Killua an obvious, contemplative glance. "Besides, I didn't do anything. Killua woke up on his own, say, seven minutes ago, maybe."

Gojo puts an immediate hold on the theatrics, head tilting back down to blink at Killua owlishly from behind his mask. His white eyebrows are raising up even further into his hairline, and he looks like a complete idiot in Killua's opinion, staring at them from behind a strip of cloth.

Maybe he's using Gyo to see through the fabric, or at least his own version of it... It could also just be one of the man's abilities, like his Domain expansion.

"Gojo." Killua says seriously, finally looking away from the man's mask and looking down at his lap, biting his lip hard enough he can taste copper from the skin breaking, but he refuses to let these strangers see it tremble.

Killua stares at the smudged drops of his own blood in the palm of his hand, frustration building in his chest as his fingers curl into a fist. His own words keep repeating in his head over and over and it's annoying, it's annoying because he can't ignore them.

A thousand more just the same, a thousand more. A Thousand More. Thousands. Thousands. Innocent men, women and children one wrong step away from a massacre. All because Killua's apparently only just now recognizing the hate that's always been there.

Killua quit. He quit being an assassin and yet bodies keep dropping around wherever he goes anyway. Almost like, well, almost like a curse.

Can I really withstand… A thousand more?

When Killua looks back up Gojo is staring back at him completely seriously, face devoid of any of the previous mockery and forced extremes. For once, the man seems to really be seeing Killua, and not just some kid that looks 'a lotta' like him.

Killua realizes it doesn't take him very much to say what he does next, that he means it more than he'll ever admit to anyone but himself in this moment. "Thank you. If you hadn't stopped me then…"

Killua doesn't continue, not entirely sure what he was going to say next anyway, because he knows what would have happened if he hadn't been stopped. The blood would be on his hands, and the worst part? Killua would move on.

"I see." Gojo finally mutters, and when his smile returns, it's much softer. Killua can only stare at the unexpected expression, surprised.

The man looks completely relaxed now, hands tucked lazily in his jacket pockets as he grins cheekily at Killua, like they weren't just trying to kill each other. "Well, then. You're welcome."

Ieiri scoffs violently all of a sudden, pushing herself from the wall as she tosses the butt of her cigarette out the open window.

She gives Gojo an entirely unimpressed look before looking back at Killua the same. Her face looks agitated, voice a little stiff as she stares at him. "Now that you're awake Killua, would you like me to heal your injuries for you?"

Killua turns towards her fully at the offer, blinking curiously. His cheek twitches subconsciously at her reminder, tugging at the mark he can feel left from his skid on the pavement and he thinks about it.

"Like…" Killua glances at the grinning Gojo a little suspiciously before looking back at the woman, squinting, "With sorcery?" He questions carefully, a bit stilted, hesitant.

Ieiri blinks at him with some surprise, and the moment is ruined as Gojo bursts out into unnecessarily loud laughter, actually slapping a hand across his knees. "You're hilarious, Killua!"

Killua scowls to stop himself from snapping back. I can't risk losing my temper so recklessly, like that, again. Killua glares through his embarrassment before looking away from the chortling man. Ah. I think I hate him.

Ieiri is smiling slightly herself, brushing her hair back over her shoulder as she looks down at him. She's almost as tall as Gojo with the added height of her high-heels, and with the white coat ensemble, she does look a lot like a doctor. "Yes, like with sorcery."

She steps a bit closer to the bed, holding out one of her palms for Killua to look at and after a second of hesitation, he stops being petty and leans over on the bed to look better. In a flash, a burst of cursed energy burns in the woman's palm, the colour an almost teal blue, edged by black flames.

Killua looks at the energy with wide eyes. He's never seen bloodlust look like that before. His gaze rises up to meet her eyes instead as the energy flame flickers and then dies, the cursed aura disappearing from her palm.

"That was cursed energy, as I'm sure you're aware." Ieiri continues to explain, observing his wide-eyed interest as she returns her hand to her coat pocket. "Using it, I could heal your injuries for you. If you want."

"It's a chance to witness a legendary technique!" Gojo adds in with a finger pointed up towards the ceiling, a bit too happily. "You don't want to miss out on the chance of seeing that, Killua."

"Yes, yes, I'm amazing. Well?"

"Okay, sure." Killua eventually concedes with a stiff sigh, forcing himself to relax a little. If they were going to kill him, Gojo may as well have done it back on the street when he was unconscious. If they were hoping to go the torture route, well, he severely doubts either of these two could break him. He had been trained under the best for such a situation, after all. Growing back fingernails is a pain, though.

Ieiri removes her hands from her coat, gesturing towards him. "I'm going to need to have physical contact with the point of injury to work most efficiently."

That makes sense. Killua reaches for the hems of his shirts and pulls them over his head, letting the clothes flop on the bed next to him. The warm breeze blows against his skin and Killua looks down at his chest for the first time since fighting with Gojo.

Since Killua hadn't been able to protect himself with Ken in time, Gojo's blow had swiped his ribcage in a direct hit. He's faster than I realized. The entire left side of his stomach is a deep set bruise, spreading out from the point of contact that suspiciously looks like the side of a boot. Combined with the fading marks of Illumi's brotherly affection, he looks a bit ridiculous.

"I think I cracked a rib. Can you fix that?" Killua looks back up at Ieiri with interest. Nen has limited capabilities in healing, the more strenuous the injury the longer it took to heal, and could not repair certain internal or external injuries once they passed a certain point. Ten keeps Killua in that constant state of accelerated cellular regeneration, but it wasn't a miracle worker. Not like Nanika.

Ieiri merely looks at him with an unreadable expression before sighing. Gojo is at least finally quiet. Killua immediately glances at him suspiciously at the realization but the man only stares back at him blankly from behind his mask.

Ieiri takes a step closer, that teal, singed cursed energy rising up like flames in her palms again. Killua nods when she gestures again towards his chest and she places the palms of her hands on his side over the wide bruise without further hesitation.

Killua twitches at the contact, expecting a flurry of his own cursed energy to come to the surface, just like the last time he made contact with a sorcerer, however the sensation never arrives.

Without pulling away he stares at the woman's glowing hands with fascination, the thick bruises sapping away as if they had never even been there. The scars on his fingers fade to nothing, there's an odd, noticeable crick in his chest, but it doesn't hurt. Was that resetting the rib?

"Most of these are old." Ieiri says without feeling, and Killua's not sure whether it's supposed to be a question or not so he doesn't bother to respond.

Her hands drag towards his back unexpectedly and he flinches, but her palms don't stop pressing on his skin. The soft touches tracing up his spine are making Killua feel a bit awkward, but the feeling of her cursed energy against his Ten is surprisingly… Okay.

It doesn't feel remotely as overwhelming as Gojo's had when Killua had mistakenly grabbed the man's hand to shake. It feels like a buzz of low level Ren, humming over his own nen, but instead of harming it's repairing the burst blood vessels and scarred muscle tissue like a feather. It's the closest thing he's felt to his own nen since coming here, actually.

"All done." She leans back with a step and a hum and Killua sits back up. He looks down at his chest, turning from side to side experimentally in awe. He can noticeably breathe better with his rib set back in place. What an extremely useful skill. Ieiri-san must be pretty strong, too.

"Thank you…" He says with a bit of uncertainty after a moment, attempting to look over his shoulder to see his back and from what he can glance, it looks just as healed as the rest of him. The constant underlining pain of his injuries has vanished completely, leaving behind instead a sore feeling in its place, like tired muscles. He feels like he fell asleep in the sun for too long, nonetheless unharmed.

Killua looks up at the pair, not entirely sure where this leaves them now. After all, he did just try to kill one of them and in return, they healed him of all of his injuries. He'd almost consider them naive, if he hadn't witnessed their strength first hand. But thinking of Gon, the two weren't exactly nonexclusive traits for a person to have.

"No Problemo, chibi! Shoko here is super cool, right?" Gojo hums at him, smirking at the woman playfully. Ieiri-san only rolls her tired eyes at him, looking away from them both to pat down the side of her lab coat and pull out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket.

"Bad! Bad Shoko!" Gojo looks positively scandalized that she'd tried to smoke in front of him, not that Killua could give a damn as he pulls back on his shirts, fixing the sleeves in silence.

They forced him to smoke constantly when he was younger and still in his substance resistance training, something that never really stops in the life of an assassin. The funny thing is, now everytime that Killua gets poisoned his body gains an even stronger immunity than before. His resistance is locked in a state of constant, perpetual motion, just like his nen…

Just like the cursed energy rooting a home in his system, it seems, as well...

"You're going to give my sweet, impressionable son deplorable habits!"

Ieiri-san merely gives the man an uninterested stare as she places another cigarette between her lips and lights it. She then blows a thick wad of the smoke gathered in her mouth at the man, which Gojo sputters at as he waves away the smoke rapidly with his hand, coughing all dramatically like a complete toddler.

Killua's brain can't even catch up with the speed of his own theories and resulting hypotheses. The feeling of this cursed energy invading his system is remarkably like nen, like the feeling of wielding his Ren, only with far, far more power and accuracy. A seemingly manifestation of his killing intent. That bottomless hate that's been growing inside himself his entire life.

Ren is widely considered the potency of a nen-user's killing intent, so when someone asks to see your Ren, what they really want to know is: Show me how badly you want to kill me. How badly are you willing to win? Are you even strong enough?

A fight could already be won simply by the strength of one's killing intent, something Killua has used to his advantage plenty of times, even before he had accessed his nen. Having honed the ability before hand, gaining access to his Ren was like adding an additional level to his killing intent from already being an assassin, and now with this cursed energy slithering around inside him-

If two wrongs make a right, then three must make Killua worse than worse. Something that sounds suspiciously a lot like Hisoka starts to laugh wildly inside his brain.

"Cursed energy," Killua starts haltingly, but upon noticing their shift in attention in his direction again, attentive to listen to what he wants to say, he gains the courage. "What is it, exactly?" Why can I feel it touching my soul?

Despite Gojo's earlier words, the man hadn't actually done much, other than defend himself really. And now they've healed him.

Perhaps this exchange didn't have to be entirely hostile, they at least seemed to be trying to offer an olive branch towards Killua. If it was only to rip it out from under him later, it's not like Killua would give a damn either way, anyway.

Gojo presumedly blinks at him, apparently a bit off-put by his question, despite having been the one to offer to teach Killua all about this stuff in the first place. The man looks completely ridiculous with that stupid blindfold. "What do you think it is?"

Killua rolls his eyes in annoyance at the simpering response, looking towards Ieiri-san but she seems content to let the idiot take over the conversation, her gaze unwavering from the view outside the window as she smokes.

Killua looks back at the man, and seeing only his patiently waiting, irritating smile, he sighs and tries to think about it. It's not like Killua isn't used to dealing with eclectic types, in fact it seems it was a requirement for Hunters, but that doesn't make them any less annoying to barter with.

Well, it's not the same as my nen. There is a distinct difference between them, colliding in his chest like magnets not quite sure whether to snap together or completely repel.

But what it really feels like to Killua, when he closes his eyes and reaches within, a hand outstretches towards a black abyss, even in this darkness. He opens his eyes.

"Hate."

Ieiri-san's lidded gaze slides over in his direction as Gojo seems to stare at him.

Killua shrugs when they only continue to look at him, shifting so his legs hang off the edge of the bed, hands tucking into his shorts pockets. His thumb finds one of his yoyo's, brushing against the carbon-fiber plastic. "What is it then?"

Gojo clears his throat, frowning as he straightens his posture a bit. For whatever reason Killua's response seems to have unnerved him somehow. That's interesting. "Ah, well, you're not completely wrong there Killua. Negative emotions are the source of cursed energy."

"That's not to be mistaken, however, while it is the source, it is not exactly necessary for a Jujutsu Sorcerer to access such strong emotions in order to use cursed energy. Is that making any sense?"

"Sort of." Killua looks over the man curiously, once again appraising the bloodlust like aura emanating from around Gojo like a sort of Ten. It's an interesting concept, even if Killua still struggling to really wrap his head around it. It is once again remarkably like the use of nen. Were these people just using a different form of nen without realizing it? Do they know what nen is? There's only one way to find out.

"I'll be honest, I don't know as much about cursed energy as I do about nen." Killua watches for their reactions. There is no spark of recognition, no straightening of shoulders or shared glance between the two. Either they are both really good pretenders or they really didn't recognize what nen is.

"Nen?" Ieiri-san tilts her head, looking at him curiously. Her posture is completely relaxed, Killua would even go as far to say she looked bored. That is, if he wasn't already aware of the underlying tension that's been in the woman since he first made eye contact with her. Strong as they both were, they clearly weren't assassin's, or at least not very good ones.

Wordlessly Killua holds his palm up much like Ieiri-san had earlier, and like Killua had moved forward in interest, so do the adults to stare at his empty hand. He uses Ryu once more, guiding 50% of his aura to his hand, watching curiously as the two seem suddenly enraptured by the white, spiking nen over taking his hand.

It takes a fair amount of Killua's focus to suppress the cursed energy inside himself wanting to burst forth under a layer of Zetsu, struggling against the suppressing nen barrier like water pouring through the micro holes in a plastic balloon. He hasn't struggled this much to hone his nen since he first started to train it in Yorknew after the Hunter's exam. This cursed energy, it's like I've unlocked my nen all over again, except, it's a completely different source of power compared to my nen, which runs on a nen-users life essence. The soul.

But a separate mass of power, entirely run on negative emotions? It's no wonder.

Suddenly, the existence for people like his family, like the cinemera ants and like the Phantom Troupe, is starting to make a lot more sense. Is this what his family, what Illumi, wanted from him this whole time? To unlock Killua's cursed energy? To finally turn him into a complete, unstoppable monster?

A thousand more. It's no wonder, Gojo had looked at him like that back on the street. Like for one, split second, the man was staring at a calamity.

Because just like how Killua's nen is in a state of constant, perpetual motion, so was his hate. A bottomless curse has been cultivated in Killua since the day he was born, and he had no idea. It's no wonder. A thousand… more…

Killua releases the nen from his hand before his cursed energy can take over, curling and twisting in his chest like a roving twine of thorned roots. He may not need to feel the hate to access cursed energy, but it seems to have the result nonetheless. It burns at him like a physical touch. "That was my nen. It's… similar, in some ways, to cursed energy, and yet, you two don't seem to have a clue what I'm talking about."

"Are you trying to say it's not cursed energy?" Gojo probes curiously, hand on his chin in a thinking pose as he considers Killua from behind his mask, lips pursed thoughtfully.

The man had jolted a bit at seeing his nen, staring intently at the white wisps and coupled with Ieiri-san's lasting appraisal, it's really beginning to seem like Killua actually might be the odd man out here in Tokyo. Killua might be the only one on this continent with the ability to access his nen, and that's a dangerous precedent. He'll just have to be careful with what he chooses to reveal from now on, the last thing he needs is to put himself at an even further disadvantage or have power hungry fools lapping at his heels.

"Something like that," Killua says instead, vaguely. He stares at his own hand, remembering how the cursed energy had been coiling around his nen, functioning in a bloodlust infused tandem. "I'm not exactly sure why, but my cursed energy seems to be a bit different than yours."

"I've never seen such pure cursed energy before," Ieiri-san muses in a strange tone out of the blue, and Killua finds his gaze meeting hers in surprise. "Actually, it's remarkably similar to the sensation of my reverse curse technique."

"Ah. That. I thought it looked familiar." Gojo mutters, not seeming surprised in the slightest even as he admits that. He turns to face Killua again, looking down his nose at his form on the bed. "Remember that funky little trick Shoko here did to fix you up? That's what she is talking about, and I have to agree. Though, I'm assuming you don't know what a cursed technique means, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"You really are clueless!" Gojo mocks with a boastful laugh suddenly. Killua scowls darkly at the man once he gets over his initial shock. This idiot…

"The reverse curse technique is the process of turning negative energy," Ieiri-san goes on to blithely explain, staring down at him with levity. She's as still as a statue compared to Gojo's exuberance. "Into positive energy."

"It's a rare technique," She adds quietly, almost more so to herself as she seems to be getting lost in thought.

Gojo glances at her from beneath the layer of his blindfold, collecting himself once again into that calm facade. There's a fine, nearly unnoticeable twitch in the line of the man's shoulders however, his hands shoving into his jacket pockets in a lazy position that doesn't quite convince Killua.

He looks at Killua and seems to pause, as he notices Killua's attention already watching him like a hawk.

Gojo Satoru seems like a childish man to Killua, following only the whims of his own emotions and letting that guide his interactions. It could be a front for the ulterior motive, the real reason why they were bothering to explain this all to Killua in the first place, why Gojo seemed steadfast in trying to convince him that he was his father. All it really does is solidify in Killua's mind that these people are not to be trusted.

However it seems like Killua has no choice but to play into their hands for right now. And fine, if he wasn't going to be left with any other choice, Killiua would discover what they really wanted from him, get the information he needs from them, and then simply move on to the next lead from there.

If they try to make him stay afterwards well, there's nothing stopping him from killing them all to clear his way through. It's not the first time he's had to make such a decision, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

It's no wonder at all, really.