Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading the fic. Before you read, I'd like to mention a few things. This chapter ended up being a little too long so I had to divvy it up. In this chapter and the next few ones, there are quite a few things i wish to explore. Psyche didn't just marry Illumi, she married into his family. That already spells more trouble for her! We know that the Zoldycks are incredibly dysfunctional, but also 'loving' in their own messed, tyrannical up ways. One goal for this chapter was to write how the Zoldycks (primarily Illumi and Kalluto) feel about Alluka and to expand on what we already know about that. Even though scenes are written from a particular character's perspective, their truth is not the absolute truth. Everyone is biased and leans toward their own preferences. Hopefully I was able to convey that well. There are two timelines, the past flashbacks and the present. (With the additional excerpts from Psyche's books) The first flashback here centers around Illumi and his shower. Because it's free real-estate. (Illumi + shower = SMUT FEAST!) Starting here, but most definitely not ending here, begins the unveiling of some but not all of his issues. (To which he has many. #prayersforpsyche) And so, I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 12: Not Enough
Illumi had everything in his room to figure out the world. He was cursed with a voraciously curious mind and luckily with an intellect to guide it in the right direction. He has known this truth about himself ever since he was old enough to strike a bunsen burner with a match and watched with pleasure as he dismantled the world, piece by piece, to see what it was made of—and what more he could make from it.
Illumi threw his jacket on his bed and stretched his arms above his head, yawning. He leaned over his desk, tugged at the collar of his shirt that was pulling on his neck, and flipped through his opened textbooks, eyeing over all the notes he's written on the sides of the pages, highlighting the importance of what he's read. The labeled test tubes he's left in the wrack were ordered neatly, each stopped with a cap. He took one in his hand and flicked the bottom gently. It gave a pathetic fizzle—again, another dead end that added to his splintering headache. He shouldn't have waited until he came back from his mission with Kalluto to finish his experiment, spoiling his results.
He threw himself on his back, arms out wide, ink black hair flaring around his head, and closed his eyes. Why did his bed have to be so soft? It made him want to pull himself beneath the covers and curl up in a cocoon made of cotton and dreams; not caring to do anything other than sleep all day and all night—he pulled his shirt closer towards his nose and did not like what he sniffed.
Illumi lifted his shirt above his head and tossed it in the hamper. Then he noticed dirt stains on his pants and away they went too. He wasn't too tired to take a shower anyway. After stripping off his clothes, he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror—and turned around. He moved his hair away and traced his fingers over his bare skin and let them travel until they met the puckered edges of the scars that lined the middle of his back—where his two bottom ribs used to be. A fire flickered when he saw the incisions–now faded–and digged at his skin until all that was left were red crescent moon shaped marks from his nails. If he wasn't careful, he could open them back up.
Maybe he should.
All scars have memories and he remembered the story that belonged to these. It started off lovely. It was a perfect spring day to have a picnic outside. Kikyo sat beside Silva and fed him a spoonful of Ambrosia salad the children made together in the kitchen the night before. There were far fewer marshmallows that morning, but Killua claimed it was not his doing while licking away sugary coconut flakes from his mouth. Alluka clung to Illumi's left leg and Kalluto clung to Illumi's right. Illumi walked around the playground with two very noisy boots that wouldn't stop giggling! They were bossy too, they told him where to go and sometimes bickered on which direction to take because each knew theirs was the better amongst the two. If they each had their ways then Illumi would be split down the middle. Illumi was good at thinking on his feet, and his baby brothers on his toes. He took one step sideways and swiveled his body to step on the other. Swinging one leg in the air at a time. It sent the little boys into a frenzy of laughter, making them feel as if they were on a carnival ride. Killua jumped on Illumi's back, and Illumi opened his arms for Milluki, 'there's room for one more.' But Milluki skulked under a tree and continued to play his video game. He still could not forgive Illumi for taking credit over the bouquet he made for Psyche.
And then the perfect day came to an abrupt end.
Essentially, Alluka made a request. Nothing good comes out of that thing's mouth. He asked for one of Illumi's ribs. Illumi remembered the moment so distinctly, it was forever burned into his mind. How could it not be? It was a moment of complete powerlessness, where he had to submit to everyone's will but his own. He looked back at his parents, incredulous. A part of him was foolish to believe they'd stop the butcher's knife from touching him to feed that monster inside his little brother, or at least wished to see it happen. Instead, they whispered among themselves which part of him was the least necessary for survival, and sighed in relief—even gratitude—that it was only just a rib!
It was only pain. However, Illumi was used to it. Half the battle was willpower alone. Though he poked and prodded himself with needles, shaped and remolded his bones, he never had an organ or bone dissected out of his body before. Laying on the grass. Without anesthetic. Surrounded by multitudes of people he was hallucinating by the minute. It was an odd, highly unpleasant sensation. He thought this is what it must feel like to be a roast chicken sitting center stage on the dining table—a feeling he never wanted to experience again. It ruined his weekend and his taste for roast chickens. Silva had to restrain him as they tore through his skin, cut through muscle, avoid major blood vessels, and break his bones. Illumi's face gave nothing away as he stifled his agony and though he didn't need to, he dug his claws into Silva's arms as retaliation. It was fair, his father said. This exchange of pain was only fair. The day was consumed by total fear. How soon and fast they should act, ruled by Alluka's strange and monstrous whims. Paralyzed by the terror of the child's unprecedented consequences.
When he was finished being cut open and picked apart, Alluka asked for another. Illumi couldn't help but laugh as Alluka held out his blood red hands expectantly while his freshly sawed out bone laid warm at his feet. Illumi sarcastically asked if Alluka wanted the entire wrack while he was at it too. Get'em while they're hot. His parents scowled at him, ugh, neither had a funny bone in them. Want that instead? He asked. Illumi, obedient without choice, laid on his stomach and waited for the knife to fall and take another piece of himself he knew he would never get back. Instead of focusing on the indescribable and ungodly pain, Illumi had already penned the opening act of a horror movie. Starring him, his adoring family, and his demented little brother who takes loving what's on the inside to a whole new fucking level. It could win something, realistically he's not shooting for the Oscars, but like at an indie film festival. The butler did it, but which one? Aha, the mystique. They have many. Boom. Box office hit.
His parents told him to be thankful that it was only a rib. Two meaningless, and crucially unimportant ribs. As if each piece of him held a different price, some inherently worth less than others. He was the sum of his parts and two of them were now gone. Illumi saw Alluka for what he really was: the death of his family. Illumi's black eyes filled with rage as they bore into Alluka. All the love Illumi had for him vanished just as fast as it took love to bloom when Illumi first held Alluka the day he was born. After that incident, Alluka was confined to his room, permanently. Illumi hated the visits, detesting them more as the days progressed. Where he was forced to view the pieces of himself that were rotting and stowed away beneath its bed—like a monster's lair. Alluka was no better than a dog, taking things he had no right to and burying bones in a tucked away place. Every day Illumi saw less of his little brother and saw more of that thing. That monstrous, horrifying thing. He shut the door before Alluka had the chance to happily run up to him with his little hands held out wide. Was it a request or a hug? Illumi didn't care to find out.
He shut the door to his little brother. He shut the door to that thing. He shut the door to another monster that was more powerful than himself. Alluka was not the one Illumi had to preoccupy himself with protecting anymore.
Illumi pressed his nails into his skin. Pain searing into him. Even when he believed there was nothing more to give—he lessened the pressure and recoiled from the pain—there was always something to lose in this House of his. But for them, he would. In the end, Illumi was an unintentional experiment and because of him they learned something new. That thing—Nanika—does not discriminate between people. The family, no matter how loved by Alluka, is not exempt from heinous or even impossible requests. Illumi was lucky, but you cannot survive on luck alone. Alluka could kill all the Zoldycks within an instant without motivation, pay, or reason. All on a whim. The entire family could have died today, that was an irrefutable fact. Alluka and Nanika are inseparable—coexisting together without the family knowing which one was in total control. As long as they remain that way, they are the same entity, and the family will never be safe.
He guided his hands away from the scars and let them glide down his sides. In the end it didn't matter, he still liked his waist.
Illumi turned away from the mirror and stepped inside the shower. There was no point in ruminatinating about it because he knew it had to be done. If he didn't obey Alluka's requests then the whole family would have perished for it. It was better to lose something small than to lose everything and everyone. Being the eldest son meant making sacrifices, regardless of his own feelings.
He turned on the shower head and let the water pour down on him. Letting it wash away all his thoughts into the drain. He lathered and rinsed his hair. He rubbed shampoo into his skin, slowing over his chest and feeling the groove between them where it caved over his heart. His heart—off limits—was his and his alone. No one has the right to ever take that away from him.
Illumi's body flinched when he brushed his hands over the peaks of his chest. Cheeks reddening from the accidental touch.
The hot air swelled inside the Mountain and it always made him do indecent things.
He wanted to feel that way again.
His fingers slowed, hesitant, as he circled them around his nipples. Waiting for them to grow more sensitive the longer he withheld himself from touching them. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he watched them become erect, and his heart leapt forward when he agonizingly began rubbing them with leisurely pleasure. He started slowly by brushing them lightly with the tips of his fingers, then when the heat became unbearable he grabbed his chest with his palms and rubbed them harder. Building up pressure then releasing them even when he desperately craved not to. That was the thing with desire. It would ambush him, hold him down until it was all he could breathe in and it would always win. He wouldn't even know he lost until he was caught in its throws, already with his mouth open and pleading with silent moans that the pelting water fought to drown out. The water pelting against his body hurt so good. Illumi let his hands greedily wander downward until he reached his groin, and unabashedly looked down.
He was hard.
He languidly rubbed himself, trailing his finger along his engorged mass all the way to the tip then back to the base, gently squeezing and releasing it. Leaving it throbbing and erect when he let go. Fuck. He wrapped his hand around his shaft firmly and dragged it forward then back, his hips buckling from the first touch and back again. A gasp escaped his lips as he jerked his hand faster, quickening the pace. Not giving a damn if he came too fast or too soon.
He couldn't stop his hips from swaying when he came closer to climaxing. Unable to stop himself from leaning his body further against the cool tiled wall, losing himself as he succumbed deeper into lust and surrendered himself to primal urges.
No. His hand stalled. He didn't want to finish here.
He wanted to finish inside of Psyche.
He never should have told her to stop when he had her in his bed. He wanted to lay down on his back and let her hips sink down on his. If her mouth was exquisite then her pussy would be paradise. And she was all the more willing to spread her thighs wide just for him and let him ravage her. She was saving herself for him, he knew that. He knew she'd never let another man touch her before he had the chance to claim her as his own. He'd have her pinned under him before, prodding her entrance with his tongue when she pleaded for more, nipping at her clit when her legs trembled as she begged him to be gentle, and relenting by doing just as she wished, sending her spiraling and whimpering for him to stop. Every time, he would harden. Every time, he fought the urge to slam his cock into her soaking pussy. Every time, he stopped himself. Every time, he settled for her pretty mouth. No longer. He caved to this fantasy of his one desire. His cock would slowly push itself inside her, inch by inch, preparing to take all of him to the deepest part of herself. Watching as she slowly took him in for the first time and cried out when his cock breached her entrance, and slowly easing her hips down onto him as he stretched her wet walls around him. He'd drag his finger over her clit, teasing her as he circled her sensitive little bud that throbbed when he gave it attention. Her pussy was wet and obedient just for him and with few commands he could entice her to come for him. Watching with wicked delight as she squirmed and unraveled because of what he'd do to her—it turned him on. He wasn't ashamed in admitting that. Letting her hips sway, further ascending closer to heaven, making her spasming walls tighten around him as she'd simultaneously grab and push at his chest, regretting and worshiping this newfound pain mixed with pleasure. Penetrating her and all the same depriving her of everything she longed for when she lifted her supple hips back up and overcome with a feeling of emptiness only he could fill. Psyche would look at him with famished eyes, realizing he was the missing piece to finally making her whole. She'd descend on him again, fear that was now laced with the anticipation of intense rapture. Instead of a cry—she'd moan with pleasure. Swaying her hips up and down on his cock. Unlocking a rhythm her body knew long before her mind did. Slowly, thoughtfully, letting the fear wane into long forgotten obscurity. Rolling her hips with tender thrusts and finally calling out his name as she came. She was his.
The sweltering heat became overwhelming.
The shower head was still running as he retreated to his bed. Heart racing and breathless. Wet footprints following a trail of heated lust. Not bothering to care as he threw himself down on the edge of his bed, bouncing once when he did. His hair and skin dripped wet on the blanket. He laid on his back, stared down at himself, and blushed—his cock was wet from the shower, and yet his tip was glistening from his precum. Fully erect and bending upwards. Waiting expectantly for him to finish what he started. He brought his fingers to his lips and let his saliva drench them generously before lathering his tip and shaft. Obediently swelling and rising to attention. He spread his legs just enough for him to imagine Psyche balancing on top of him, and grabbed ahold of his cock. And resumed pleasuring himself. Fast. Rough. Shameless.
He bit his bottom lip, stifling a moan from escaping while arching his back.
He forced himself to stop, damning himself when he did. His cock tensed and twitched as he leisurely circled his tip. Letting the clear liquid stick to his finger in long translucent tendrils as he pulled back and let it drip down his shaft. Coating him. His breath hitched, his breathing was no longer under his control. Taking his time as he edged himself closer towards climaxing and stopping when his hips began to thrust on their own. They snapped sharply against his will. Not yet, not yet. He didn't want to come just yet. His own hands betrayed him as he tightened his fist around the head and slowly pushed down, unknowingly cursing aloud. His skin was flushed with the sweet color of pink as he quickened the pace. It was hot, pulsing, hard, and he couldn't let go.
His eyes fluttered closed and mouth hung open now. No longer bothering to hold back as wet sounds filled his room, panting with each stroke. The rising heat in his cock began to build until finally his whole body spasmed and he grunted as he threw his head back—tasting heaven. Wild and powerful thrusts overcame him when he orgasmed, spraying his chest with sticky pearls of thick, white liquid. He didn't stop. Not yet. It wasn't enough. One hand gripping the sheets and the other still moving over his cock as his voice whimpered and his legs trembled. Getting the very last of himself dripping down his hand and wrist. His hips rolled forward in circles uncontrollably thrusting air; more, just a little more. Let him stay drunk in this excruciating heat just a little more.
"Psyche." Illumi's voice broke out, unexpectedly calling out her name.
Finally, he let go. He laid in his bed, breathless and basking in the aftermath of sweet and complete submission to euphoria. His chest rose and fell in great breaths, gradually calming itself.
"Fuck." He sighed breathlessly, resting the side of his head into the ruffles of his sheet. Strands of hair stuck to his wet skin. That was fucking great.
Then he blinked. This was bad. He thought of her too much. Now she no longer descended on him in the middle of the night when the mountain air swelled with more than just his lust and thoughts to keep him company. Thoughts that became increasingly about her. Without thinking, he sluggishly circled the milky white pearls over his chest in mindless loops. Pearls that would look so pretty strung about her neck. She would take all of them if he told her to. Her soft hair would cascade in rivulets and tickle his skin as she would lean over his chest and shyly taste him with her tongue—He does have it bad. But was it really so bad? To let her have a hold over his heart when it felt so damn good?
To have her in all his days laying beside him. He was aware of this beautiful prison that they both had their hands in creating and reveled in the calm expanse of forever staying trapped within it.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Then it fell just as fast.
He leaned on his elbows and looked down at the mess he created. His sheets were soaking wet and his cock was covered with his orgasm. His cum dripped down his chest and onto the bedding. God, he needs help, or another set of hands—yup, fuck it, he does have it bad, it wasn't even worth questioning at this point.
He begrudgingly lifted himself out of bed and went back to the bathroom. He stuck his hand in the shower and recoiled, pulling his hand back.
The water turned cold.
Illumi is here. Of course he is! He couldn't be anywhere else. Even so, why did Psyche numbly stand, head muddled with contradictions, in front of a small fast food chain restaurant, named Gohan, that didn't look like it could cater fifty let alone hundreds of hunter applicants. The hunter exam attracts millions of unsavory characters each year, so it would only make sense that they would want to hold the exam in an inconspicuous location to not attract attention. Then again, Psyche anxiously looked down at the green dot blinking on the tracker then back up at the restaurant. What if it was all a lie? What if Illumi was mugged and his assailants were right now feasting themselves on pork cutlets and bragging about their successful pillage over the dead body of her husband?
No. She shouldn't be thinking about that! If Psyche didn't regularly remind herself that Illumi was alive then Illumi would be the one worrying about himself becoming a widower. Psyche mustn't forget her mission! It's the most crucial mission she's ever faced in her whole life, to date! She is here to properly wish Illumi good luck, send him off with soaring confidence and love and kisses, and hopefully, if time permits, a picnic.
Psyche gripped her fists tightly around the handles of her wicker picnic basket. Coming empty handed would have been the mark of a fool. She rushed to the supermarket as soon as she stepped one foot off the blimp and filled up the basket accordingly. Swiss rolled ham and cheese sandwiches, easy to eat without worrying about making a mess. Bottles of water and lemonade, because she couldn't decide which he'd prefer before a big test. A container of mixed salad with chopped cucumbers and sprinkled with feta cheese, perhaps Illumi was a light eater. And a pack of skittles, because from what she remembered of their two night escape from Kukuroo Mountain they were his favorite, or she at least hoped they still were. She discovered many of his favorite things during that time.
Anyway! It was a perfect, healthy and nutritious meal ready to fuel him up with energy needed to ace his test! But, as Psyche let her imagination dangerously wander, if he were to take one look at his adoring wife and the picnic basket she lovingly assembled just for him, he'd see the test as a waste of time, pick her up in his arms, kickdown the door and forsake the association in the name of passion, and finally embrace the answer to all their problems which included him, her, and two heart shaped chocolate bonbons delicately wrapped in pastel foil. Meant for one to feed the other with, preferably as the sun set behind them.
She opened her compact and last minute checked herself for nothing less than absolute perfection. She wants Illumi to be starstruck by her and hear nothing but an orchestra of violins play as she enters the restaurant, and be touched by her love for him that greatly surpasses the 7,632 kilometers that spanned the ocean with an additional 3,201 kilometers of continental land that once separated them. The poets were right, there is no divide that could withstand to separate her from the man of her dreams.
Hushed laughter echoed in the distance.
Psyche's eyes narrowed. She hadn't failed to notice the group of men standing on the other end of the sidewalk staring at her. They've been following her ever since she left the grocery store. Those assholes.
The men started walking towards her.
Psyche entered the restaurant and was instantly met with the aroma of deep fried pork glazed in a succulent sauce of caramelized onions, soy sauce, and runny eggs. Her mouth was watering, but her hungry heart wouldn't be satisfied by food alone. She blinked her eyes, searching among the scattered parties seated at the booths, tables, and counters. None of whom were Illumi. How disappointing.
If Illumi wasn't in the restaurant, then he was most likely underground, where the real exam was taking place. Where else could they hold hundreds of applicants? Having more than eighty persons in a small restaurant like this would be a violation of general health and safety guidelines, not that the exam committee were sticklers about the welfare of their applicants either... Now, she knows there is an underground base somewhere, but how does she get one of the examinee volunteers to tell her that himself? And let her pass through?
"Welcome! Take a seat!" The head chef said, barely taking his eyes off the pork cutlet in his wok. Psyche softly thanked him as she seated herself in front of the chef. She gently placed her picnic basket on the counter and looked around her just in case Illumi would somehow pop out from behind her, under a table, the curtains, or heck even from the chef's wok itself. She longed to see Illumi. The chef took one look at her, her basket and then blinked. There was a pretty lady at the counter, and sometimes that was all it took for everything in men to instantly thrum to life and remember why they were even alive. It was enough of a reason for him to slow down his cooking and make the customer wait on their order. "Honey, I have a policy. If you bring in food, you need to have enough to share with everyone."
The only man she wanted to call her honey was Illumi. Or my girl. She craved to be called my girl by him. "Oh, look at the time, I have to go." Psyche feigned her escape as the man chuckled.
"You come into my restaurant and bring your own food. Why? It's the onions that make me cry, but maybe."
"Oh nooo." She smiled, playfully. "It's for a picnic."
"With who? Me?" He pointed his chopsticks to himself. Hopeful.
The men entered the restaurant and snickered at her, "got something in that basket for me?" The men turned to each other and laughed. They took a seat at a table—directly across from her.
I will fling my basket at you and I will fling it hard. She refused to let men like that make her crack. Her attention was solely on the chef. "Someone special." Psyche sighed, romantically.
"So it is me."
No. "My husband, actually." Psyche clarified. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, blushing. "If only I can find him, that is."
"We're all competing in the same grand search of trying to find that special someone."
Psyche leaned on her hand, sighing dreamily. "To be lucky enough to find the one, not just any one, but the one." Kind of funny, that word. How it suddenly changed the meaning of any word that comes after it in ways she hadn't noticed before. One life, one love, one forever. Genuine, one of a kind, and infinitely special—just like Illumi Zoldyck. She smiled in the way only young girls who are in love smile. "The one who is unapologetic in their passion and voracious desire for you. Who longs for you like no other could. Who dreams of you like no other dreamt before. Who places his heart in your trust and yours in his. The one."
"I'll just settle for being liked." The chef laughed as he flipped the fried pork and slid it over a bowl of white rice.
The assistant cook in the back of the kitchen instantly let his pork char and burn, thinking of all the reasons that were wrong with him as a man because he wasn't on his knees proposing to that girl with the wicker basket whose name he has yet to know.
Psyche instantly waved her hands in front of herself. Embarrassed. "I'm sorry that I have you listening to me prattling on. My husband is all I'm able to think about lately. We're newlyweds. You haven't seen him? He's tall, 6"1. Long black hair, down to here. Eyes that, when he looks at you, feels like the sun is shining on you and it's wonderful."
"He sounds unforgettable, and dreamy, but I can't say that I have seen him." The chef nodded appreciatively, and turned around to face the staff in the back kitchen. "If you can't find him then maybe someone in the back can finish that basket with you—no, not you, put your hand down, you're married to your wok." A fit of laughter erupted in the kitchen. He turned back to Psyche. "He's not here, and the lugs in the back aren't any help either."
"We heard that." A cook from the back yelled.
"Good. You were supposed to!" The chef turned back to Psyche and shrugged.
"I am positive that he entered this restaurant." Psyche sighed. "He's wearing a green suit, puffed sleeves, corset, buckled shoes with–"
"Gold buttons?"
Psyche smiled and clapped her hands together, so Illumi has passed through here! "Yes, that's right!"
The chef saw so many applicants pass through his restaurant today and it was hard to remember everyone. He sort of did remember that the man had piercings…all over his face…and body…it was hard not to notice. "He's your husband?"
Psyche nodded.
"Are you sure?" He deadpanned. He wasn't sure if that man was the one, but he was definitely one of a kind. Hopefully the only one of his kind.
"To have him as my husband, I mean, I still can't believe I ended up this lucky." Psyche blushed.
'Honey, you've been catfished,' the chef thought.
"It's the fairytale all girls dream of."
'What dreams? Does she mean nightmares? What was wrong with the youth of today!?' The chef was so confused. But for a girl like this to love a guy like that, he shivered at the mental image, it must be love. Or an arranged marriage. If the latter was the case then he felt sorry for her.
Psyche breathed. She is honest and her intentions here are crystal clear. She leaned forward and whispered. There is no point in lying. Well, just a little. "I'm sorry, I don't want to say this out loud. The navigator escorted us to this restaurant for my husband to take the hunter exam, but I was stupid enough to drop my credit card back at the grocery store, so when I came back him and the navigator must have already gone inside." She frantically covered her mouth with her hands. "Was that too loud?"
The chef's eyes wandered to both sides of himself, contemplating whether to divulge the exam site's location. One look at her made his tongue instantly loosen. He whispered back. "The exam likely has already started."
"I just want to give him his lunch, or at the very least say goodbye. For possibly the last time." Psyche looked off into the distance and let her voice wobble on the last few words. She hoped he understood her hidden meaning.
The chef understood everything. This exam might be the best thing to happen to her since marrying that gargantuan fellow. There was freedom in widowhood and he was going to guide her there. The chef called for one of the workers in the back to come forward. The assistant cook quickly volunteered himself as he patted down his apron and handed the burnt pork cutlet to another worker. "Yes, sir."
"The young lady will have the steak combo in the back room." The chef said. Psyche's eyes glittered with joy.
"Grilled over a low flame that makes one see the light?" The assistant cook excitedly spoke the code words, making him feel like a secret spy on a mission.
"Get out of here."
"Yes, sir."
The chef pulled the boy close to him. "Go down there with her then come right back up." The boy nodded.
"This way, miss." The assistant cook escorted Psyche to the back. As she followed him, she ignored the group of men who didn't take their eyes off her. One of them just barked at her, but again she ignored it. If it were Anomie, they'd all be burned to a crisp. If it were Chaotica, well, Psyche recalled the blimp incident. But Psyche ignored them again. The assistant cook held the back door open as he led her into a room with a single red, revolving table placed with empty dishes.
Psyche shook her head at the dismal sight. Imagine, all these applicants travel a perilous journey only to arrive at the exam site starved and destined to stay that way. Those one in ten thousand who safely arrived at least deserved a real steak combo.
The boy coughed. "Before we go down, I mean, downstairs. Before we go downstairs." The boy stumbled over his words, wishing he'd die a thousand, painful deaths.
Psyche giggled.
The boy turned around and slapped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please forgive me, but I'm going to have to check your basket. To check for any concealed weapons—not that I think you're a killer or anything!"
Little did he know. "I understand. Oh! I already have one on me." The boy gawked as Psyche pulled out Illumi's balisong knife. She flipped it in her hands as the boy stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Woah."
"It's for self defense. A girl can't be too careful in this world."
"Can I?" The boy held out his hands as Psyche handed him the knife—only for it to instantly pull him down to the ground. "IT'S SO HEAVY."
"You're funny."
He wished he was kidding. What the hell!? Was this thing infused with a dozen bricks?! And the way she made it look so easy flipping the knife like it was a feather in her hands made him realize that even the partners of would-be hunters are crazy strong too. He didn't expect her to actually have a weapon on her and had to report back to the chef and ask him what to do.
The chef's eyes gleamed. He expected no less of her mission. "She'll need it to cut her steak combo."
The boy returned to Psyche and blushed when his eyes met hers. "He said it was okay." The elevator descended and eventually led them to an underground facility. Psyche's steps echoed throughout the empty chamber. No one was there except a little green man who was sweeping away a pile of flower petals while humming.
Beans caught sight of Psyche and smiled. "I'm sorry miss, I commend you for the long journey to the exam site, but registration has already ended. We hope to see you participate in next year's exam. On time. The exit is," he pointed with his broom, "from whence you came."
What a snooty little bean.
The assistant cook stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Beans. She isn't interested in taking the exam, but sending off her husband. But it looks like we're too late."
The picnic was irrelevant at this point. Psyche wanted to at least know if Illumi registered. "My husband's name is Illumi. I just want to know if he got down here safely."
Beans frowned. His voice echoed across the basement. "That's classified information, but I wouldn't be able to check his name if I wanted to at this time."
"Why?"
"All applicants are referred to by the number on their badges and names are only attached to them once they've passed the first phase. Or sometimes second."
Psyche felt like fainting. Her husband was a random number to them!
"We do have one applicant in the back. Serious injuries. It's hard to tell if he's going to make it."
"Take me to him." She had to know.
Beans sweeped a pile of flower petals. "These were his too. Poor guy."
This exam was barbaric. Psyche walked to the door where Beans pointed and swung them open. "ILLUMI." A man with no arms looked at her and she looked at him. Thank God, it's not her husband. Oh, what a relief! But at the same time she couldn't forgive the brutality of the exam and or turn a blind eye to a man who was clearly wronged.
"What happened to you, sir?" She asked, gently. Kneeling and meeting him at his eye level.
The man sucked in a breath. "He did THIS to me because I accidentally bumped into him. He thought I didn't have manners, SO HE TOOK MY ARMS. WHO DOES THAT!? AND THEY LET IT HAPPEN." He would use his arms but he had none so he pointed his chin at Beans who was sweeping the flower petals into a dustpan. Beans looked back at them and tapped his watch. Tapping incessantly for her to leave. "THAT OVERGROWN VEGETABLE DID NOTHING TO STOP IT…HE IS EVIL INCARNATE."
If Beans taps his watch one more time, Psyche will fry him and serve him over a bowl of chili.
Psyche shook her head solemnly. The committee gives zero regard for the safety of their applicants. They let the innocent be maimed and the wicked run free. Grandparents Zeno and Zifira were right all along. "Monsters. All of them." She turned to Beans and scowled. Beans smiled with unblinking eyes and cracked his neck, annoyed that she has yet to leave.
"Not a monster. SATAN." His lips quivered. "Don't know his name. Barely made out his face. Red hair aflame like fire. Eyes sharp like a whip. A star on his cheek. A terrifying high pitched laugh. It was a c-cl-clo—"
"A clown?" Psyche guessed.
"A killer clown." The man clarified.
Christ! This exam attracts all the freaks and weirdos! She hoped this killer clown wouldn't cross paths with her husband! The man without arms opened his mouth and Psyche slipped her business card into it. "If you need revenge, give me a call." It was a small black card, embossed with a white pair of angel wings and a number underneath that shimmered under the light.
The man nodded and looked eager at considering her offer.
When she returned upstairs with the assistant cook to the main restaurant, the chef asked, "how did it go?"
Psyche playfully pouted, lifting her basket. "He already ate his steak combo."
The chef nodded, sadly. If she couldn't get him, the exam most likely will. He prayed that it would.
She said her goodbyes and left the restaurant, and the group of men that followed her in also followed her out. Psyche compared herself to Little Red Riding Hood with a pack of wolves following her trail and a wicker basket in hand. However, there was a horrible misconception about that fairytale that many, including those men, failed to realize. Wolves were wicked creatures, but Little Red Riding Hood wouldn't have entered the woods if she didn't believe she was the wickedest creature there. Her cloak couldn't have been more blaringly obvious.
Red was a warning.
All fairytales should end with princesses getting devoured by dragons.
Kalluto loathed visiting his sister. Illumi and Milluki weren't forced to sit through these grueling sessions, so why should he? He narrowed his eyes at Alluka and hasn't forgotten what she said to him during his last visit. It still boiled his blood. Maybe that was his own fault. Submitting himself to monstrous rage that had no right being in a boy so small. Anger clenched his teeth shut and he refused to speak a word to her still. He may have been forced to be here against his will, but he wasn't obligated to speak to her. She was sitting at her table, scribbling nonsense on a pink cardstock board surrounded by glitter and rhinestones and stickers. He wondered if he stared at it long enough it would burst into flames. He mastered nen at ten years old, developing pyrokinesis wasn't a far stretch.
Alluka lifted the pink poster up to the monitor for Kalluto to get a better view. It sparkled so much he had to turn his head away. "This is what I have done so far! Do you like it?"
Kalluto wanted to crumple it up into a ball, douse it with gasoline, light it on fire, throw it off the Mountaintop, and watch it burn from a safe distance with a pair of binoculars. Instead, Kalluto did the only thing he could. He garbled a sound of annoyance. Just as little boys who foam at the mouth, but don't know what to say, do.
"I like it." Alluka ignored her brother as she rolled up her sleeves and got right back to work! It's a welcome gift for Psyche. It's a drawing of Psyche and Illumi. Psyche was drenched in a gown made of glittering white, and Illumi looked handsome and uncharacteristically happy. Forget Kalluto's brooding, she hoped her new big sister would like it very much.
Kalluto's jaw snapped open. His voice sounded harsher than he intended it. "You can't give that to her."
Alluka hummed. "That's not for you to decide. Mama said she was going to wait until Psyche was well adjusted and then tell her about me. Coming back from the dead is a big accomplishment and an even bigger surprise for some people, you know." Her eyes flickered towards the camera and back again. Kikyo said when the time was right, she'll let them meet. It was always sometime tomorrow and never today. Always in the future and never in the present. The family filled her up on false promises, but she didn't give up that one day it will all become true. The promise of a brighter tomorrow is what pulls Alluka through her days and hope was the one thing she would not let them extinguish. There was more she wanted to say to Kalluto, but she decided against it and went back to her art. It hurt. It really did, but she wouldn't let Kalluto see her cry. It'll only motivate him to torment her more. Smiling and ignoring his hurtful remarks seemed to have the opposite effect on him.
"You seriously can't tell that she was lying to you." Kalluto scoffed 'idiot' under his breath.
Alluka sorted through rolls of stickers and decided on the ones with sparkling hearts and stars. "Mama sounded different and if it doesn't sound like you then it's probably the truth."
Kalluto's eyes sharpened. Why the hell was she acting so…"You're never getting out of there. Illumi told me so."
"We'll see." Alluka smiled lightly as she peeled stickers off their sheets and onto the board.
Kalluto slammed his hand on the light switch and Alluka's room was shrouded in darkness. Beat. That.
Suddenly, an array of soft light filled the room by a plush stuffed animal whose tummy lights up when it's hugged. It's battery operated. It can last for hours on end and Alluka has plenty of hugs to give. "Boop." She booped its nose and went back to drawing.
Only silence followed to which Alluka assumed Kalluto was trying to prevent himself from exploding. After spending so much time with her brother and only relying on his voice to communicate with, she learned to decipher the tones hidden behind his words and sometimes knew his emotions better than himself. Her poor, baby brother. He's in so much pain.
Kalluto clenched his fists, everything she said to him came tumbling back into his ears. He hasn't forgotten you either. It was impossible to forget the day Killua ran away from home. Talking turned to yelling then to screaming then to Killua brandishing a knife. Without remorse or hesitation, Killua stabbed Milluki in the gut and he slashed his mother across the face while Kalluto was numbly watching it all happen in front of him. Blood didn't scare him and violence was his favorite game, but at that moment he couldn't move, he couldn't think, and he couldn't breathe. Ever since then he berated himself for being so weak. He could only watch as his beloved family turned on each other in cold blood—his world came crashing down. Kalluto flinched when Killua turned around, he thought this was it, he was next. His arms lifted in front of him. Whether it was to attack or to cower—Kalluto still didn't know. But none of it mattered. Killua ran past Kalluto without even acknowledging him. Kalluto felt the thud of the bloody knife hit the ground near where he stood as Killua ran past him. No goodbye, no nod of farewell…no anything. Kalluto felt worse than a fool. It was the worst pain he has ever felt in his whole life.
Kalluto's shoulders were trembling.
His big brother treated him like he wasn't even there. Their home was nothing. Their family was nothing. And Kalluto was nothing to him too.
Kalluto harshly rubbed his eyes while tears streamed down his cheeks. It's not…It isn't…Kalluto let the tears fall. What was he doing wrong? He has been beside his big brother all this time and he still failed to fill the space Alluka left. Why wasn't his love enough for Killua? He gave everything, every single shred of love he had to offer to Killua and still it wasn't enough. No. What was wrong with Kalluto? There had to be. Kalluto was the one above ground, not Alluka. He was the one following in his brother's footsteps making their parents proud, not Alluka. He was the one who always stood by Killua when he needed him, not Alluka. So why? Why did Killua still love her more when he couldn't even remember her anymore?
A horrible voice slithered into Kalluto's head. Killua hates you. A soft cry betrayed Kalluto's lips and he scorned himself when Alluka turned her head to the monitor. She heard him.
"Kalluto?" Alluka feared she was too harsh with him. Was it her fault he was crying?
Kalluto dried his eyes harder, but it only made the tears pour down faster.
"Are you okay?"
"Never better." Kalluto lied as he stared at his sister through blurry, red rimmed eyes. Stop looking at me like that. Stop looking like you understand me when you don't.
"Is there anything we can do to help you?"
Kalluto forced himself to laugh instead of cry. Alluka flinched. "We? You mean you and that thing? No thanks. No one wants your help. If we did, you wouldn't be down here." Kalluto doubled over laughing, holding in his stomach as he tossed and turned in his chair. Hitting his knee to make the tears go dry.
Alluka clenched her fists. Don't cry. Don't show him what he said hurts. "Kalluto. You're right, I'm down here, but if you stopped and took a second to look around you, I mean really look hard, then you might actually learn something. You'll see that your situation is no more different than mine."
Kalluto sucked in a breath, calming his laughter. "You're entitled to your own thoughts, but just because you think them doesn't make'em right."
"Your circle is just as small as mine. Only difference is you keep pushing people out and one day you'll realize that you'll be the last one standing in it."
Kalluto choked on his own voice.
Alluka got him. "Stop pushing me away. I love you, Kalluto." Her voice softened. "Let me love you."
A tear fell down Kalluto's cheek. He wiped it away just as fast. "I love who I want to." Kalluto's chin quivered and he leaned against his knees to prevent himself from collapsing. Even if they don't love me back. "Even if they're gone."
"Who are you referring to?"
Kalluto kept quiet.
"It's Killua." Alluka's heart stopped. Her voice was barely a whisper. "What happened to Killua?"
Kalluto closed his eyes tight. He wasn't supposed to let Alluka know.
Alluka shot up from her table and marched over to the speaker. This was different from last time. This was a different side of his sister he hasn't seen before. She possessed strength. And rage. "Kalluto, I don't care if you lie to me tomorrow, the day after, or for the rest of my life. Right now, at this moment, I want the truth. That's a fair exchange, for you, isn't it? Tell me right now what happened to Killua. I knew he wouldn't forget me. You all made him."
Alluka was a liar just as much as he was. She doesn't love him as much as she loved Killua. Nor did Killua love anyone as much as Alluka. She hated Kalluto just as much as Killua did. They're both awful. The pain loosened his jaw. "You happened."
"No. Stop lying. Please, just tell me the truth—"
"That is the truth." Kalluto yelled, voice rising. Alluka was the reason they sent Killua to Heaven's Arena. Alluka was the reason Illumi had to put the needle inside Killua's head. Alluka was the reason Killua ran away from home. Alluka was the root of all their family's problems. His head was spiraling with Illumi's warning about Alluka. Until finally Kalluto screamed those words out, "you're our death!"
Alluka's hands dropped to her sides. Something changed within her. Something broke. Killua isn't here anymore. That was all the confirmation she needed.
Kalluto clamped his hands over his mouth. Did he just say that out loud? He crossed the line…No. He wasn't going to take back what he said. Nor was he going to apologize for speaking the truth. The truth hurt Kalluto. It should hurt Alluka too.
The corners of Alluka's mouth curved into a smile as she looked up at the camera. She held her hands out wide. "Kalluto. Give me your heart."
Kalluto's chair clattered against the floor. He turned to run, get his mother, but Alluka's voice began again.
"No? Then give me your brain."
"Stop, let me think!" Kalluto fell to the ground, shaking. He thought Nanika could only make requests if you were in physical proximity to her, that's why they isolated her in this room. To protect everyone. Alluka wasn't going to be the death of his family. He was. He provoked her.
They couldn't kill family members—but Nanika isn't family. Kalluto could kill her now and wouldn't violate the rule. But if Kalluto did then Killua would never forgive him. He doesn't know what to do.
"No again? Then how about…"
"Wait, I—"
"Hop on one foot and pat your head."
Kalluto blinked. Still trembling. "W-what?"
"All the while singing, I'm a little bee who fell from a tree all because I wanted a cup of tea."
Kalluto's cheeks turned bright red and he grinded his teeth. She was bluffing and he actually believed her! "I'm telling mom!" He stomped off and left.
Alluka was now the one laughing. It felt good after Kalluto was tormenting her for so long. She doesn't regret reversing the playing field. She sat back at her table, surrounded by her family. Stuffed animals resembling each member. Killua was a fluffy white cat and the closest to her. Kalluto was a grumpy little gnome wearing a paper crown and it sat on her other side. Mama and papa were a pair of royal frogs, king and queen of the pond. Milluki was a big blue bear with sleepy eyes. And Illumi's was special from the rest. His was a black rabbit with pink eyes—with two of his bones on the inside. He sat next to a pink rabbit with black eyes and their paws were stitched together in holy matrimony.
Alluka looked around the table and smiled. Everyone was here. It was so nice spending time with the whole family.
Thank you so much for reading chapter 12! This chapter took me forever to write! Y'all. My goal during the pandemic was to write an erotica novel lol That never happened, but a-ha! I've done it here. Don't give up on your dreams-*coughs* I hope the smut scene was okay? I'm kind of nervous about it, and the chapter as a whole. So, what did you think?
TIME TO SUMMARIZE! I've sprinkled it around in the fic already, but Illumi is horny, he owns it and is very hypersexual because of *static tv noises* OK, in the next chapter you'll learn why Illumi pick pocketed a dead guy, I promise the chapter just got too big XD I hoped you guys are liking how i'm writing Illumi? He doesn't talk a lot, but a lot goes on in his head XD I've also written how he feels about Alluka. He is protective of his family, Alluka (unintentionally) threatens the majority, so he only sees her as they're death. Kalluto also takes Illumi's opinions as fact, so i hope it was okay. oh no! Psyche didn't make it to the hunter exam in time, whatever will she do now? :D Kalluto is in a lot of pain, and berates himself over what happened when Killua ran away from home. On top of that, he is jealous of Alluka. But no way does it justify him taking his pain out on her T_T Was it wrong for Alluka to get her just desserts and scare Kalluto? Was it deserved? Or will it escalate things further *evil laughter* :D Girl is just chilling in her room, all alone, with her dolls, one stuffed with Illumi's bones just to feel like she's close to him because she's deprived of his love, and from the rest of her family...Tell me what you thought :3
Everyone in the fic desires something, and i'm eager to write about the lengths they'll go to get what they want. Whether they're actually deprived of it, or they perceive it to be. Thanks for reading!