HIATUS IS OFFICIALLY OVER! AHHH HELLO EVERYONE! How are you all doing? I'm so happy to be back! It's been a while since I've posted the previous chapter and during that time I've been doing a bit of thinking about various things and what i want to do with the fic. Planning, changing, and tweaking things I want to happen for later chapters. I'll also be posting more regularly from now on!
I love Illumi, what a surprise! My goal is to write him in character as much as I can, but my fic is also a personal headcanon of him XD I reveal some things Illumi is going through in the first scene, which is a flashback, but i also wanted to write how weird he can be, so I hope I conveyed that well! I had fun writing those scenes :D
A song i really want to share is "Sweet but Psycho" by Ava Max. It's Psyche's song and i love that for her.
I want to say thank you to all the encouragement and love given, it fills me with so much joy T_T Thank you to whose been reading since the beginning and thank you to those who have recently started. I hope you enjoy the chapter :D
Chapter 13: Psycho
The night knows his secrets. His best and his worst. And tonight was not unlike any other.
He was forced to relive his greatest nightmare. Prisoner of his own dreams.
They always started the same way. Illumi was in every sense alive and awake, but he was frozen in place and unable to move as a faceless figure hovered above him. That thing—with its unwavering and unblinking gaze—haunted his nights. Its features blurred into an indistinguishable mask, but he could make out the edges of its sickening smile and eyes that always burned black. Blacker than the night allowed. Illumi knew what it wanted and it expected no less. It always came for the same thing every night in his dreams—never growing bored of the monotony. It was predictable, but in that predictability there was the inevitable. And that made it all the more terrifying. It had no need for tools except for its claws. That was all it needed. Illumi knows full well how deep claws can cut, including his own. It raised its claws, commencing a night destined to be momentous while Illumi willed himself to fight. To escape. To scream. To do anything other than lay helpless. There was nothing he hated more than to have his own will ripped out of his own hands.
All he could do was stare at the creature—let his gaze burn holes clean through its head. The creature stared back, curious.
Illumi couldn't move and everything inside of him screamed as the thing pressed its claw in the middle of his chest—and cut down. It swiped at his abdomen with madness and care. Paralyzed as the thing slowly tore through the fascia and opened up his chest. Peering closer as it looked inside Illumi with morbid curiosity. Swelling with pride as if it were discovering something unbeknownst to the world. Witnessing the unveiling of a treasure unrivaled. Selfishly butchering a beauty all on a whim. No matter the skin, no matter the creature, everything underneath looks the same. Liver, lungs, heart.
Bone.
It yanked and it pulled and there was a twist and a crack while Illumi could do nothing, but lay frozen in place.
There was no greater pleasure than breaking his bones, keeping them for itself and cradling them in its blood soaked claws as if it were a newborn. But it wasn't enough to simply hold them close. No. They were too precious to leave alone. It must keep them safe.
The creature bent its head back and opened its jaw wide. Swallowing the bone in one gulp and licking its lips when it was done. The taste was immaculate but far too fleeting. It looked back down at Illumi. Not satisfied with just one. It titled its head to the side as if asking, why do you cry?
Illumi's face gave nothing away as tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. Fighting to open his mouth and curse the monster born from his own mind. It would only make sense that it too would know his thoughts. As if reading Illumi's own mind it screamed, "NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO!"
Don't want him to what? To scream. To escape. To protest. To curse its putrid name. To die.
Nothing. It wanted him to lie there and take it in like a good, obedient son.
This answer did not satisfy the creature, and it screeched a guttural cry in retaliation. Enraged that Illumi would even suggest such a ridiculous notion. Furious that Illumi would take away its greatest pleasure. Saddened that Illumi couldn't see his own beauty.
"I will show you." The thing's voice was grating, determined with newfound reason.
Wake up.
"I will show you just how beautiful you are."
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP.
Again and again it repeated this macabre ritual until Illumi finally woke up.
Illumi jolted awake. Eyes frantic. Body drenched in sweat. He couldn't move his arms nor his legs nor make a sound other than a pathetic groan. His fingers trembled, fighting to move. He wanted to wildly paw at his chest, to quell his mind that was afraid to find something amiss. There wasn't a single scratch on him and yet he still felt a lingering pain. The memory of the nightmare pulsed through his skin and the scars on his back tingled and throbbed, as if reminding him danger was fast approaching and he had every reason to be afraid.
There was someone above him.
Oh, it was his dear little brother scowling down at him with murderous intent. Illumi wondered what Milluki wanted to talk about, so early in the morning. He'd greet him good morning if he could form any coherent word in any language, so instead he stared and hoped the message came across well.
Milluki wanted to kill him.
"Sleep paralysis." Milluki exhaled, forcing himself not to laugh at the irony. He veered to Illumi's desk and picked up an x-acto precision knife used to cut and shape molding clay. Milluki twirled the knife over Illumi. Illumi breathed a little deeper. His dear big brother who built himself into an impenetrable fortress…is plagued with nightmares. No one could hurt him, well, no one except himself. "Alluka fucked you up that badly, huh."
Milluki slammed the knife down until it hovered over Illumi's left eye. A vein pulsed in Illumi's jaw, that was all he could do. Oh, his big brother was getting angry. Milluki laughed. "No shit, you really can't move. Awesome." He threw the knife down and enjoyed the sound of it clattering on the floor.
Milluki got to work. He opened wardrobes. Hurled clothes out of drawers. Flung open books and shook them wildly waiting to see if anything were to fall out. "Where are you hiding them?" Anger drenched his voice. "You got more when you were on that mission with Kalluto, didn't you?" He was sick and tired of Illumi getting everything he ever wanted. From their parents. From the girl Milluki was in love with. Psyche will never look at Milluki now. She will never see him more than Illumi's little brother. She will never look at him the way she looks at Illumi. And, worst of all, Milluki helped her. He helped her see Illumi in every way he wasn't. Perfect.
Illumi wasn't perfect. He was a fucking mess and Milluki wanted everyone to see it. He kept searching through Illumi's room. He'd tear the whole place apart to find what he needed to incriminate his brother and tear down his perfect little act—
Milluki's face slammed to the ground. A tight hold gripped the back of his neck. Fuck.
"You didn't time it right." Illumi sneered, strands of hair falling over his face like black thread. His hold over Milluki felt like cold, iron shackles. Escape was impossible.
"If you didn't want anyone in your room, you should have locked your door." Milluki snapped his jaw.
"Yes, please don't hesitate to turn it around on me. If you didn't want your neck snapped, why did you enter my room? Hm, I'm waiting." Illumi retorted.
"I can see that this is a very bad time—for both of us."
"You don't say." Illumi shrugged long strands of hair out of his face. "I'm going to tell you a story. You're going to listen. A fire breather's lair does not need to be sealed shut for someone to know not to wander inside. Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, human. For thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup. What, pretell, is the lesson?"
Illumi has gone insane! "You're going to kill me with fire and then feed me to Mike like you tried to do when I was three months old." Here is Milluki's quick comprehensive guide to survive invoking Illumi's wrath: change your name, get a new face, and develop an appetite for canned goods because that's all you'll be eating while spending the remainder of your life running.
"Open a book for once." Illumi chided, then continued. "No, but thank you for the suggestion. And how could you say a horrible thing? Who could ever do that to someone with such a cute face."
"You." Ew, Milluki wanted to puke from Illumi's compliment.
"This is always like you, bringing up the past." Illumi said as if he had better things to discuss, annoyed.
"This is always like you…DENYING IT." Milluki mocked. IIllumi's logic went like this: If Illumi didn't remember it, then it didn't happen.
That actually made Illumi laugh. "Say if I did, maybe you did something to piss me off."
"I was a baby."
"And now you're all grown up and still manage to find new ways to piss me off. Should I be congratulating you instead?"
"TAKING ME OUT OF MY CRIB, AVOIDING BUTLERS, WALKING THROUGH THE FOREST TO THE KENNEL, AND DROPPING ME IN MIKE'S BOWL DURING FEEDING TIME IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT'S A STRING OF WELL CALCULATED CHOICES." It was Kikyo's favorite bedtime story to tell Milluki when he was little. Becoming more sugar coated, and less sinister, as the years passed.
Illumi lifted up one eyebrow, confused. "That's your experience."
"That is the experience."
"Alright, but I don't remember that happening." Illumi was on Milluki's back, one hand prepared to rip Milluki's head clean off and the other bending his arm back at the most perfectly crooked angle. Illumi was thankful for this, he didn't have to focus on his hands that still trembled from the memory of the nightmare that made his body numb. Milluki was real—so was his neck.
Milluki didn't know Illumi could bend his arm that far back. He made a sort of whining sound, the one an animal might make right before their slaughter. Or better yet, just before a brother might crack.
Illumi narrowed his eyes, vexed. "That doesn't hurt. Don't be so dramatic."
Milluki repeatedly smacked his free hand against the floor. "I give up, I give up!"
"So soon. And just when my attention is all yours."
"I don't want it."
"What was it you really wanted?" Illumi asked, not to Milluki, but to himself. "Yes. If you want something from me, then go on. Ask me." Illumi hissed out the last few words through his teeth.
"It's okay."
"I insist. I'll even help you find it too. We can look for it together."
Milluki suddenly, for a very sensible and limb-conscious reason, decided to give up wanting to blackmail his big brother. The idea of a future in which he still possessed his left arm and a head was much more appealing. Milluki failed to show his gratitude and instead scoffed under his breath. "Over my dead body."
"Okay." Illumi slowly pulled Miluki's arm back—Milluki made a sound Illumi has never heard before. Illumi loves bones. He especially loved studying them, holding them, displaying them—never breaking them. If it was a really bad day like the start of this day, today, he wondered what sound his little brother's arm would make if it were to break. Stomach curdling like the ones in his nightmares, no doubt. Milluki should know what that feels like too. Milluki yelped.
"It was a joke!" Milluki forced out a laugh. Maybe if he laughed, Illumi would laugh too.
There was no laughter from his big brother, only a pause. Illumi looked around his wrecked room, it was an ill played joke. Just when Milluki thought he found peace, Illumi spoke again, "Mind repeating it. I didn't get it the first time. I missed it between you threatening to take out my eye and bulldozing over all my shit while I was conveniently paralyzed, no doubt you thought you could take advantage of, but timed poorly."
"It is RUDE of me not to ask because I care so greatly about your health. Are you feeling better lately? Those gosh darn sleep demons. Amiright."
"No. But you're right handed, right? Good." Illumi answered for Milluki. Little brothers don't need left arms.
"Not good! NOT GOOD! Here's the funny thing, haha." Then Milluki barked loudly, "you're a certifiable psycho!"
Illumi smiled, comfortably. "Oh yeah. You didn't know that?"
"I didn't, actually. I didn't really know that." Milluki couldn't feel his arm anymore.
"Oh yeah. Oh yeah." Illumi verified Milluki's worst fear. "But enough about me. You're supposed to be what?"
"Regain the feeling in my legs." Milluki struggled to free himself. Illumi held on tighter the more he fought against him.
"That has yet to be decided. Hey, you want to know something?" Illumi leaned in closer, as if revealing a secret meant to be shared. "You're pretty fucking strange yourself, you know."
Milluki's arm was going to break! "Killing family is forbidden. You know the rules."
Illumi pulled Milluki's hair by the roots and forced him to look at a human skeleton hanging across his room. Real or otherwise, he left that up to Milluki's imagination. "He knew them well too."
"MOTHEEEEER!" Milluki cried out for help.
Illumi pointed to the walls and mouthed, "There, there, above, below. Sound proof. Every wall. For someone so smart, I'm surprised this is yet another thing that you don't know. So. I have a feeling you might not like this part because you can make all the noise you want and still no one will hear a thing."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Illumi let go of Milluki's arm and neck. Illumi loved his brother even when he was insufferable. It was disappointing that Milluki couldn't even break free from Illumi's hold, and only escaped when Illumi decided it was time to let him go himself. Illumi kept that thought to himself—hush hush. Milluki scrambled to his feet. "I'm joking." He laughed, holding out his arms. "I can joke too."
Milluki doubted it as he rubbed his arm trying to knead away the pain. It was going to be hard trying to hold a game controller with this. His eyes wandered to the only item on the desk he didn't knock over in his blind pursuit of immediate extortion. It was a clay sculpture. Oh, Illumi was making another disguise again. Or as Illumi likes to call them, his new faces. Each uglier than the last. Illumi always liked weird things ever since he was little, proudly choosing to be a goblin as an occupation when his baby teeth began to fall out—thinking his fangs were finally starting to come in. Then disappointed when they weren't since he couldn't be a blunt toothed goblin. Perhaps he was this way because he read too much R.L. Stine as a kid, wearing monster masks with sharp-toothed frightening grins and beetle-black scowling eyes even after Halloween passed. Or climbing up trees and hanging upside down on the branches like night dyed bats to surprise unsuspecting bystanders with high shrill shreeks. Heck, when he watched Pinnochio for the first time, Illumi didn't care much about the terror of pleasure island and instead thought that the idea of turning into a donkey seemed fun, for some odd reason. There has never been a day when Illumi wasn't weird.
Illumi glowed with pride at his new face, like a craftsman pleased by the mastery of his own work. "It's still in the design stage, but it's coming along very nicely."
If looks could kill, this was it. Milluki thought, but he only hummed in agreement, more thankful for the pleasant change in mood than anything else.
"Milluki," Illumi called as his brother limped out the door. "Good morning." It was too late for that.
Milluki groaned as he closed the door behind him and left to lie down in his own room and rethink his life's choices.
Illumi stepped over the rubble, surveying the mess. He picked up modeling clay and his tools. At least Milluki didn't wreck his new face. Before he applies a new disguise to his body using his needles, he always designs it beforehand to perfect all the details. Illumi took a step back to overlook the prototype, and the joy he felt from admiring his own creation made him forget the torment of his sleepless night. If nightmares and sleep paralysis were all he was experiencing after having his bones forcefully ripped out of him then Illumi reasoned that he was fine. It wasn't severe enough to compel him to tell his parents, though he now clearly regretted telling Milluki. The problem will eventually wane and he has suffered far worse than sleepless nights. He just has to endure it until it does. He had a knack for that.
Anyway, his new face was on its way to becoming a very handsome man.
He sat crisscrossed in his chair listening to King, by Florence + The Machine, on his ipod as he spun in his chair thinking of better ways to improve his face. All the while holding onto a pinecone, unusually spiked in all the best places, mouthing the lyrics "I need my golden crown of sorrow, my bloody sword to sing, I need my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology." Then, inspiration struck just as the chorus did. He stopped spinning and resumed molding the clay, broadening the nose, lifting the cheeks, and elongating the chin. Adding the short faux needles with wooden bulbs when he was certain of the bone structure.
Illumi leaned back in his chair. Smiling at the new face as if they've been lifelong friends.
"Hello, Gittarackur. Welcome to my world."
Psyche's own words came back to taunt her. Those men that followed her into the restaurant, were just as eager to follow her out. From the moment she walked out the door they were on their feet. Mimicking the words she said to the chef about finding the perfect one. Her wish for the one wasn't childish—she already had it—but they took it as an opportunity to make her tick. The streets were empty and without the watchful and prying eyes and ears of those from the restaurant, they told her exactly how she could be their one. Not once failing to illuminate how she had exactly one hole for each of them; and they were fine taking turns sharing. Their laughs were disgusting, it made her want to rip out their tongues. Perhaps that would make them think twice about spewing vulgarity.
Psyche turned the corner and into an abandoned alley. The men walked faster, blood pulsing in their veins, thinking they had the upper hand. They prowled into the alley. One man threw off his jacket without care.
The girl was gone.
There was a wolf in her place. Something made of shadows. Something otherworldly. But undeniably dark and dangerous. Long before they thought to run, the wolf began to do what wolves do best.
Eat.
Psyche jumped down from the fire escape. Her feet landed lightly on the cement, hardly making a sound that not even her picnic basket justled as she neared her nen beast who was chewing contentedly on its very last bite. Not a drop of blood was spilled. Not even a scrap nor a crumb left over. She trained her nen beast well. When it was done, it stretched out its body and yawned.
She sneered at the jacket further away on the cement. Trash should never be left behind. She found an old hanger sticking out of a trashcan and used it to hook the jacket and dump it with the rest of the garbage.
Her nen beast was curious why its master leaned back against the wall and did nothing. As if waiting for something else to happen. Whatever it was, it did not know. Nonetheless, it obediently laid itself down and waited beside her. Waiting for whatever it was she was waiting for. For it had no wants other than fulfilling its master's.
Psyche waited and thought. In the ways of a so called just world, the good are rewarded and the evil are punished. But we don't live in a just world, now do we? If such an idyllic world did exist, then Psyche would be out of her job. In this world the wicked run free and the innocent are maimed, so she knew it was never a matter of if she would receive a call from a client, but when. Which was why she waited in the alley and wasn't surprised at all when her phone began to buzz. It was the man from the hunter exam site, the one whose arms were severed right up to his shoulders, whose fate was forcibly determined for him by a man he didn't know—without even a name, Psyche knew she was to become well acquainted with this malefactor soon enough. Before the man spoke, her mind was already conjuring up punishments, perhaps because she was already vexed by what just happened with her stalkers. She knew it was time. Vengeance was to be delivered—A death was due.
She craved to get back to work.
The man tsked on the other end of the line, calling from a hospital, anger simmering in his voice. Rightfully so. The man had every right to be angry. Now was the time to let it be—Psyche could feel it too, a morsel of anger seethed inside her thinking of a life and all its possibilities taken away in a split second. She felt sorry for the man, and let his anger fuel her call to take action. "What the hell is this about an angel? I don't need an angel." He snapped his jaw, biting down air with each word.
"And yet you called, so there is something you want."
"And you know? What I want is forgiveness, I should forgive him, right? That's what you're going to say to me? It's not enough of a bother for you guys going door to door trying to convince people to convert, otherwise we'd go straight to hell, right?"
Psyche laughed, "Oh no, I'm not here to tell you to forgive anyone. In fact, you're owed more than that."
The man scoffed. "What kind of religious bullshit is this—"
Psyche smiled. "I don't want anything from you. On the contrary, it's what I can do for you. I may have glossed over my specialty when we first met, given the time constraint and prying eyes."
"The Bean?" The man asked, curiously. Recalling that talking vegetable who sweeped away the flower petals that were once his arms.
"The Bean." Psyche agreed.
"THE BEAN!" The man cursed. Then a defeated sigh, "fuck that bean."
Psyche leaned back about against the stone wall, basking in the cool embrace of the dark alleyway. "Let me put it to you in another way. Do you believe in karma?" There was a glint in her eyes, a grin on her lips. She enjoyed her work much too well, pointing cosmic justice back in the right direction whenever it drifted too wayward. "I'm karma."
The man knew it was time to start believing in it. "I need a deadman," the words came spilling out of his mouth, a prayer his heart knew long before his mind did. A prayer that for once wouldn't fall unto death ears and finally be listened to. A prayer that karma—this angel—was keen on answering. Swiftly and mercilessly.
Psyche reached out her arm and gently scratched the tuft of fur on her shadow beast's head. Tilting its head towards her and closing its eyes. It liked that. "Those are my favorite words."
The man described her target, giving as much detail as he could remember. Suddenly, he choked on his words. As if a nightmare crawled down his throat and nestled itself in his belly. It was a cold lump that stifled his words. He remembered the clown's name.
"Hm, is that all?" Psyche asked.
"Hisoka." The man swallowed. "His name is Hisoka."
The deadman has a name now. Though not entirely necessary, as Beans stated, applicants are solely referred to by their badge numbers—which her client couldn't recall for the life of him. Hisoka was merely a number among hundreds. Along with her husband. Still, Psyche tossed around the name in her head, recalling how Hisoka made crippling a man a spectacle—a repulsive performance—for a crowd that was forced to bear witness. No one lifted a finger, no one dared to stop him. So many bystanders, yet so little help offered. Typical.
She wouldn't allow herself to believe Hisoka maimed a man only for lack of manners. Unless he was the type of person to be slighted by every minor inconvenience around him, by things that were no more serious than a shoulder bump, she would have heard about an onslaught of murders before even making her to way to the restaurant while walking through town, full of charletans, thiefs, and some unsavory vulgar men; a nuisance around almost every corner. There had to be more. Sick amusement? No doubt. But in front of hundreds of people before the exam began. Psyche's eyes shot up. Hisoka issued a warning, it wasn't just a performance, but a threat. Everyone there is now afraid of him, that barbaric display effectively worked in his favor. Stay out of his way for the duration of the exam, and you might just live. Hisoka wanted to pass without a hitch.
"Willow." Psyche summoned the little black fox from her own shadow. It slithered out from behind her and began to take form. Flicking its tail like the crack of a whip when it stood up on all fours. Scare tactics didn't work on Psyche. They only made her pissed.
It's been a while since she's seen a clown, but never one starring in his own execution.
Now that's a performance she was dying to see.
Kalluto was never first. Except for being the first in doing everything last. Not one of his brothers has bested Kalluto's record—not that any of them saw him as competition.
Kalluto was the fifth Zoldyck child. He was also the furthest in line to become heir. He never thought of becoming heir himself given the sheer impossibility of it, since the heir was decided before he was ever born. The initial potential bearer of the title belonged to his older brother, Illlumi. It felt natural and Kalluto was proud of his older brother. Then it went to Killua; trained under the tutelage of an experienced assassin, Illumi. Kalluto was saddened at this news, but if that is what their father wished, and Illumi as well, then Kalluto again felt it was the natural way of things. Nothing more was expected of Kalluto than to watch from the sidelines as it all unfolded.
Kalluto had no desire to be heir, at least he thought he had no reason to desire it. Maybe it would have been nice to have been considered a possible choice only for the satisfaction of his parents to see him capable of carrying out the position; to be considered an essential part of the Zoldyck Family's future.
By the time Kalluto began crawling, Illumi was already a honed professional and the youngest assassin registered in the Bureau bearing the Zoldyck name with an outstanding future ahead of him. By the time Kalluto stood up to take his first step, Milluki was already inventing technology that renowned engineers themselves would rescind their diplomas out of shame. By the time Kalluto learned to hold a knife, Killua could kill with his bare hands.
Promising. Intelligent. Gifted.
That's who his brothers were.
Every marvelous feat Kalluto accomplished his parents have seen thrice before by his brothers. Standards were set. Expectations were high. Disappointment wasn't an option.
Kalluto felt particularly sour this morning.
Today, because it's always something different, he told himself it was because he was the last of his siblings to begin his immunization program. Only a few more injections to go and he'll officially have completed the program, and subsequently be that much harder to kill. Despite the fact that his attitude alone could scare off his enemies. The butler preparing the equipment definitely felt it could. Developing immunity to the common poisons, such as arsenic, was one of the essential basics of assassintion. The Zoldycks naturally went beyond that.
The butler was about to roll up his sleeve, until Kalluto did it himself. He was annoyed when the butler felt around his arm, pressing her fingers into his skin to search for an artery to inject the concoction into. All the while tucking strands of her hair back behind her shoulders because it kept falling in front of her face, getting in the way. Kalluto bit the inside of his cheek, to prevent himself from saying something mean. It was obvious where to inject the needle. The spot hadn't changed from yesterday nor the day before that one too. The swelling that surrounded the elevated pinpricks reduced and the splotchy purple pattern around the injected sight of his skin began to fade. His body was showing a mild reaction, already forming memory cells to fight against the poison if it enters his body in the future.
The butler chose a spot away from any swollen areas to avoid further inflammation, rubbed it with alcohol, and then carefully injected the needle into Kalluto's arm. "You're doing great, Master Kalluto." She said, with a kind smile. Worried that even her breathing was an insult to him. "Soon enough you won't need any more."
Her words didn't ease Kalluto's anxiety. He should have already completed the program. He should already be miles ahead of where he is now. Still, he held his tongue and let her speak encouraging words, lest he speak something far less encouraging and more berating. Mother did tell him to be nicer and this was as nice as he was going to get.
When she was finished, she placed a bandaid over the pinprick. Pain shot through Kalluto's arm towards his shoulder. A moment of fleeting pain was all it took for Kalluto to snap his mouth open and bite.
A crisp snap, over before it began, resonated through the room. Kalluto slapped her face with the back of his hand. His hand was still in the air, frozen in the position he struck her with. Waiting.
The butler, enraged, grabbed ahold of his arm and squeezed. Twisting his arm until it was bloody and bruised—that's what he thought she would do. Instead, she just kneeled there. Stunned into silence. Head down in submission. He hates it when they do nothing. Just fight back a little. Cry a little. Scream a little. Do something.
The butler bowed her head, averting her gaze from his eyes. "Forgive me, Master Kalluto." Profusely apologizing. Hands trembling beside her, trying to hide the fact that she hopefully wasn't making a pathetic spectacle of herself. What did she think was going to happen next? Report her to his mother and have her punished, killed—or something far worse?
He could do that.
Kalluto hasn't spoken to Alluka since their last visit. And it was for the better. Even Kikyo herself thought it was best for the two of them to spend time apart, and reflect on both of their actions. No more bickering and no more death threats, a simple enough rule that proved to be more difficult than expected from either child. Though this time apart did seem to do Kalluto some good, he had to admit it made things immensely boring. There was no one else left to torture.
Maybe he should report her.
He was growing bored, and she was careless. A little sugar would cure his sour mood. Kalluto moved closer towards her—and that alone had her trembling. She looked down at the ground and willed herself to accept her fate. Squeezing her eyes shut. Kalluto gave her a quizzical look. Oh she's scared. Kalluto liked that. He ran a hand through her hair, each strand akin to golden thread, right beside her reddened cheek where he hit her. "Your hair is so long."
"Thank you—"
Kalluto's voice was eerily calm. "If it's really long and distracts you from doing your work, in a split second you could miss where to aim with the syringe and I'd bleed out to death. Did you think of that? Unless that is what you're hoping for."
"No!" Her voice was quick, soaked in panic. She breathed in to maintain composure. "I would never desire such a horrendous thing at all. I am a Zoldyck Butler, my loyalties are for the Family. To serve you, to give my life to you, to honor—"
"Is my death something to desire?" Kalluto turned his head to the side, ignoring the credo the butlers parrot at the academy in the estate. He pointed his finger and tapped it on her forehead. "Only an enemy would think that. In here."
The butler was visibly trembling now. She shook her head before the words could come out. No no no no no.
"You're not saying anything. So I'm right?"
The butler forced herself to speak. "Never! I'd never think of—"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to report you for simply having a thought."
She looked up and into his eyes—a shiver went down her spine. She never saw a child's eyes show immense delight in another's misery before.
"This makes me curious now." Kalluto sat on the edge of his chair. "Tell me how you would kill me. You have thought about it, so don't lie. I'll come close to you and you can whisper it in my ear, so no one will hear. I won't tell Mother. Go on."
The butler croaked out a sound. Fear closing up her throat. Every instinct in her body told her not to speak.
Kalluto leaned back, frowning. "Hm. It's smart if you don't say anything at all. One word from you, real or otherwise, would be called into question. You'd be tried for mutiny and mutiny is punishable by death. They taught that well at the Academy, that's good to know. It's better not to say anything at all. Since you already know." Kalluto tapped her head harder. "My brother and his wife were almost assassinated at their wedding. My parents are doing everything in their power to find the ones responsible. Unless they're…" he tapped her head again. "Right here."
She stared at the ground. Eyes vacant and glassy. Lips chapped. "I have a hair tie in my pocket. I'll tie my hair back right now."
Kalluto beamed. "Very good! See how easy that was!"
Her hand went to her back pocket. Kalluto's hmm sent a chill through her, making her freeze stiff. He was reconsidering something—he was beginning to change his mind. A frightening thought indeed.
Kalluto sighed. "It's better that it's me than Mother reprimanding you. Here, I'll help you." Kalluto knew that Illumi condemned torturing the butlers for wicked pleasure all the while rolling his wrist, tightening his fist, and coiling the butler's hair like rope around his fingers until she yelped.
But Illumi wasn't here.
Snip.
Killua wanted the hunter exam to be more exciting. Forget about it, we need to get moving. We can still make it if we start right now. Was the last thing he said to Gon before he disappeared into the fog. By the time Killua reached the front runners, it was too late. Gon was already long gone. He thought he was going to finish the rest of the first phase with Gon, but it looks like Gon got himself killed by going back to rescue his other friends. Whatever their names were. They're dead too. It would've been nice if they all could have finished the first phase together, but it was nice while it lasted.
Killua tried to warn Gon. He guessed he just had better instincts than him. It wasn't surprising since Killua was one of the more exceptional applicants here taking the hunter exam. Originally, he thought more people would be on his level, but from the moment the exam started, man, now he just felt sorry for most of the people here. He wondered if it was too late to go back and grab Gon's fishing rod. Nah, there's no time. That trick Gon showed back in the tunnel was really cool though. But Killua has a bigger problem to worry about.
He briefly turned his head to look behind him and sneered. That freak was still here.
#301. Gittarackur.
Killua knew they were all just following Satotz, the examiner, but it felt like #301 has been deliberately following him ever since they began running in the wetlands! When Killua swerves, #301 swerves. When Killua changes his pace, so does #301. Not to mention the odd way he runs like a machine, those red eyes that don't even blink, and that smile permanently fixed on his stupid ugly face. UGH! IT WAS CREEPY AS HELL! GET LOST! Maybe Killua was just paranoid. OR MAYBE HE WAS RIGHT!
Killua's steps cleanly thumped against the ground. The terrain was no longer muddy—they're leaving the swamp.
The fog began to thin and Killua saw a silhouette of a Noggin Lugging Tortoise and whistled—successfully getting its attention. The ferocious creature roared and lounged its jaw towards Killua. Killua fell back and let his skateboard glide him under the beast's head, evading capture and leaving a welcome surprise for #301 to run into.
"Oops." Killua didn't bother to hide his grin. He didn't have to when the guy behind him was going to die. "Watch out, it looks hungry." He mumbled much softer under his breath that only he could hear.
The tortoise opened its jaw wide as Gittarackur ran towards it. It didn't even have to try. Dinner was coming directly to it.
In one swift move Gittarackur jumped off the ground and somersaulted over the creature's head. Perfectly landing on the other side before the tortoise even had a second to blink. He was on his feet running from the moment he landed.
Gittarackur laughed. Clack clack clack clack clack clack.
Killua screamed.
JUST DO AHEAD AND DIE ALREADY!
THE WORST THING IN THE SWAMP WAS APPLICANT #301!
And so, Killua ran as fast as his legs enabled him to go. To get away from the bizarre man he didn't know was in fact his bizarre older brother. While Illumi, smiling and laughing to himself, was so happy. It was just like playing tag back at home, chasing his baby brothers around the Mountain, snatching them between the swaying branches of towering cedar trees, and letting them go so they could do it all again. All. Day. Long. Ah, those were wonderful memories.
Kalluto flicked gold hair off his sleeves.
That wasn't as much fun as he thought it would be. He grew bored by the time the butler's hair became a raggedy mess. He left the poor girl to clean up the chopped remains of her hair. No doubt in tears too. Now, he was on his way to his room, going there sour and continuing to be sour while in there. Thinking of his injections and training and how far he was behind his brothers.
How many times have his brothers done this and not complain once? Not show pain once? Take it and move onto their next great thing? They made training look effortless while Kalluto tried his best not to drop to the floor and lay there in a miserable, wallowing heap.
Kalluto wanted to kick something. The moments after the injection left his arm feeling nothing, but as the minutes passed, it felt everything. Every move his body made sent a shard a pain through his arm. He knew what to expect and he knew the pain would pass as it always does.
He opened and closed his palm, despite how much he'd rather keep it still. Just do it. Fight through it. Endure it as Illumi does.
Kalluto groaned. At the pain. At himself.
He shouldn't really be comparing himself to his brothers. They were older than him, and had their own share of troubles. Illumi's title as heir was stripped away and replaced with the prospect of a respectable marriage in its place. Milluki doesn't bother inventing more than what Silva demands of him, and instead spends his days wasting away his time on his computer playing mindless games. Killua, title and future handed to him on a silver platter, threw everything away in exchange for the grand sum total of absolutely nothing.
Underwhelming. Shut in. Runaway.
That's who his brothers became.
Who was Kalluto? Was he going to be a disappointment before proving he could do anything great?
Kalluto sighed, willing himself to think of something else. When will Illumi come back from the hunter exam? Illumi left before they could play together too. It wasn't fair that Kalluto spent more time missing his big brother than actually spending time with him. Kalluto growled, he always had a talent for making himself feel worse.
But now that Illumi was married, maybe he would remember that he had a family at all and stop treating Kukuroo Mountain like a pit-stop between jobs and start treating it like his home again.
Kalluto walked past Psyche's room, then walked a few steps back. Staring at her locked door. She wasn't here either. Supposedly having left for the hunter exam after too.
His eyes veered towards the lock. His fingers began to twitch.
Kalluto didn't exactly give her a warm welcome when she arrived. Admittedly, Alluka had a point. 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. It was wrong of him not to give Psyche a chance. He should amend that. Get to know her. Let her in his circle. And if he doesn't like her….
He can push her right out.
Psyche chose to kill two birds with one stone.
By taking on this mission she'd be doing the hunter exam, ergo society as a whole, a favor by getting rid of Hisoka. The world would be better off with one less killer clown with a penchant for chopping off random stranger's arms. It would be her best good deed in all of the month of January combined. And, it gave her an excuse to see Illumi. She didn't come all this way just to sightsee Zaban city, and she wasn't going to return home to Kukuroo Mountain without him.
Kukuroo Mountain…Home…
A surge of butterflies fluttered inside of her. It was the first time she thought of Kukuroo Mountain as home! And the thought of surprising Illumi during the exam made her want to squeal! Psyche's cheeks flushed pink. If she were to happen across Illumi and happen to see that he failed the exam, which he won't, though Psyche always planned for the unexpected.
Her 'good luck you'll ace the test' picnic basket would transform perfectly into a 'good try maybe next year' picnic basket. It wouldn't be a total loss either since it would just mean they'd go on their honeymoon sooner. Technically they should be on their honeymoon right now. Somewhere especially romantic.
Psyche slapped her palms against her cheeks. It was time to focus! She's following the hunter exam purely for work. Honest.
Psyche peeked her head through Willow's burrow that directly connected back to the hunter exam site. There, she saw Beans, who was still sweeping away. Humming a tune to himself. Smiling by himself surrounded by no one else. That snooty little bean who wouldn't even verify if Illumi, her husband who she is worried sick over, got to the exam site safely. What other wife would go through the lengths she does for her husband? No matter how much she'd prefer Beans over a salad, she wasn't here to exact vengeance on him.
However, he stands in the way between her doing her job and reuniting with the love of her life. Therefore, he has to be taken care of. Salad, it is. She has just the right shadow for the task.
Psyche summoned Poirot.
Poirot was a little black mouse, with an awfully big bite. While he had a mind of his own, he much preferred using his teeth. His greatest gift from his master that he held most dear. He was the youngest of Psyche's shadows, and by far the least trained. When in the presence of the other shadows, chaos was still his closest companion. He snaps at Willow's paws and he scampers up Beast's gangly limbs to nip his ears. He's given Psyche a few nicks on her fingers herself, but he's calmed down now. Mostly.
But his rambunctious behavior is what she needed.
Poirot blinked his wide black eyes up at Psyche. Then she turned him around to face Beans. Poirot squeaked. Prey.
"That's right." Psyche whispered.
There were few things that little Poirot didn't detest, but nothing enraged little Poirot more than a pair of pretty eyes that refused to notice him. The hunter's head was perfectly round and his complexion was a dewy green. The man was tiny and green and shiny and the shadowy mouse could already feel the crack of a crisp nip between its teeth. Its shadowy form vibrated with a dangerous brew of excitement and impatience. Little Poirot was craving the perfect bite. The mouse could not speak; only snapped its teeth.
Psyche lowered her hand to the floor and Poirot ran to the giant bean.
Poirot stopped in front of Beans.
Beans stopped humming.
Poirot scampered forward.
"Get back." Beans swung his broom to scare the creature.
Poirot wanted to bite off his face.
Beans smacked his broom on top of the mouse and sighed in relief.
The mouse ran up the broom and made a jump for his face.
While Poirot was distracting Beans, the poor man barricaded himself in a supply closet, Psyche snached a flower petal and quickly snuck herself inside the tunnel and began her hunt. She ran through the tunnel, accompanied by the sounds of her own breathing and steps. Periodically checking the tracker, Illumi was miles away, by at least 50 miles—still moving. Going on foot was taking too long, she summoned back Poirot and replaced him with Beast. With her picnic basket in its mouth, and her on its back, it was a more comfortable and faster mode to travel. The exam pool was already 50 miles away.
The applicants must have been dropping like flies, considering how many she passed. None of whom were Illumi or her target, Hisoka. None bothered to look her way, too tired and exhausted from having run for miles without a break. Psyche reasoned that the first phase was more than just about testing endurance. The first failed applicants she presumed, to put it nicely, were having seizures. Either from being physically worn out or from the shock of being the first to fail the test. The first in particular seemed to be in the worst condition. #187. His short, black hair stuck to his skin, and the clothes he wore were drenched in sweat from the run. His eyes were glassy and it was more than just the exam that broke his spirit. He didn't notice Psyche as she left him a bottle of water. She did the same for the next applicants until she had no more to give.
With the little information Psyche possessed of her target, she figured Hisoka wasn't the type of person to let himself die too early on in the game. Focused eyes quickly scanned blurred heads and bodies as she passed them. She rubbed the flower petal between her fingers and observed it using gyo—nen. It was malicious and impish by nature. Hisoka was a nen user. She kept her head forward, hardly fazed by this new knowledge.
The last hurdle was a long winding staircase, angled straight towards the sky. A way out of this miserable hole. At the top, she descended off her wolf and placed her hand over the steel wall that separated her from the outside world. Once leaving the tunnel, there was no turning back.
Out of the fire and into the frying pan.
Psyche smiled to herself. Illumi made it out of the tunnel safely.
But how was she going to get out?
"What will I do now?" She said aloud to Beast. Constantly interchanging her shadows will be too taxing. She didn't want to use Willow until an emergency arose and she had no choice left. She could summon Willow for hopefully the last time, but she didn't want to take that bet—
Beast stood up on his hind legs and punched a hole through the steel gate. Tearing apart the metal to create a hole big enough for Psyche to climb through.
He was only met with disapproval.
"BAD BOY. NO. WE DON'T VANDALIZE." Psyche huffed as she rummaged through her purse. Grabbing her checkbook and furiously scribbling an anonymous donation to the hunter association, despite them hardly deserving it. She didn't like her presence being known while working, but unlike the association, when Psyche was responsible for a problem, she did her utmost to fix it. "We're not like my sisters." She placed the check in a visible spot next to all the damage. "We don't destroy public property—on purpose."
Stepping out of the dark tunnel and into the light, Psyche was met with a warm breeze as if the swamp itself was alive and breathing just as she was. The fog began to lift. She took that as a good omen. It slowly receded back into the swamp—Curtains lifting. Performance beginning. Stars descending.
One step and her shoe sunk into the mud. She frowned. Running on this land would be much harder than on sturdy ground like that in the tunnel. The air is thicker, making it harder to breathe too.
She looked down at the tracker, and then back up at the thinning fog revealing the forest ahead. The tunnel led her to the Milsy Wetlands. A quick google search told her it was also called Swindler's Swamp, a popular name that captured the public's attention, and various creepy pasta online horror stories. She expected nothing less to fuel her growing panic. The swamp is the heart of the biome—beating and thrumming with danger inherent to its nature.
As Psyche scrolled and scrolled and scrolled down the never ending list of deadly fauna and flora, it only made her all the more confident that she was going to become a widow by sundown. None of these animals needed to exist! All of God's creatures are lovely, except for the ones in the Milsy Wetlands. Birds with voices that can mimic the living. Butterflies that can cast hypnotic spells. Mushrooms that explode upon touch. Colossal tortoises that fool prey with giant strawberries on their shells. Psyche put a hand over her heart, panic stricken. Oh no. Strawberries were her favorite—she was made to be swindled. This wasn't how she envisioned Strawberry Shortcake's Strawberryland where the only thing to worry over was tending strawberry berry vines and not eating enough pie instead of avoiding man-faced apes who had acquired a taste for human flesh.
If the hunter committee wanted to weed out the applicant pool, then the Milsy Wetlands was ideal—and superseded her worst nightmare. Blood hoppers, miracuously, became the least of her worries, suddenly replaced by explosive appetizers and dinosaur-esque monsters that the only place they should be found in the modern age was in Jurassic Park movies. A newly wed wife shouldn't be imagining 1000 ways how her husband could die just before their honeymoon. If they have a honeymoon at all—
A bone snapped. A terrible sound.
It was enough to free her of her own thoughts, witnessing the horrors of the wetlands. Daydreaming could get her killed. She could not forget where she was and what she was to the wetlands. A pack of vultures voraciously feasted on an unrecognizable carcass. Splintered bones and frayed flesh were mere crumbs that surrounded their bloody banquet. While the pool of blood beneath the body looked like a table cloth dyed red. A macabre feast. Psyche did not avert her gaze, she forced herself to look long and hard. Let it be a reminder for her not to screw up. The mass was human shaped. An applicant? Her target? HER HUSBAND!? The tuft of hair remaining on its head was neither red nor black. She felt guilty by the amount of relief she felt from that.
Nature can be so brutal, it's hard to watch.
Psyche opened the camera app on her phone and recorded the scene. This wouldn't be the last person to perish in the wetlands. Her eyes narrowed. Zooming in on the body, she saw–what was that? Playing cards? Pierced deep through the nasal cavity and another in the frontal lobe. It was a swift death before the vultures descended. Further ahead, she saw more cards. Less blood. Underneath her feet was a miracle.
A stampede of footprints led into the forest.
She was suddenly grateful for all the mud.
The vultures were becoming vexed, reduced to pecking scraps off bones. Hunger barely sated. They turned their gangly necks towards Psyche—fresh and plump and alive.
She threw a rock near them, making them scatter quickly. They preferred their prey to lie still than fight back.
It was time to move on. Psyche mounted her wolf, followed the tracks, and disappeared into the fog.
Thirty six applicants withdrew from the exam.
One assassin trailed close behind.
THANK YOU FOR READING CHAPTER 13! I had fun writing this chapter, and the overall craziness given off by everyone. Kalluto is still causing trouble! Illumi and Milluki are at each other's throats; their conservation is a reference to my other fic Where Light Scatters, where Illumi did put baby Milluki in Mike's feeding bowl, but all in good fun of course?-I was psyched to write more of the Zoldyck boys, ESPECIALLY KILLUA! He is making his way into the fic and I'm excited to write from his perspective! THE HUNTER EXAM HAS BEGUN! Psyche is not part of the hunter exam, per-se, she's just sneaking around, terrorizing men, and following the applicant pool to assassinate a clown. Y'know. Normal girl stuff-lol. She also has a new shadow, Poirot!
Regarding the flashback, Milluki is right that Illumi is hiding something, but i'm keeping that a secret for a little while longer. Illumi's scars may have healed, but he's suffering from the aftermath of what Nanika did to him, and ignoring the gravity of his problem. It also just occurred to me that Gittarackur is more than just a disguise. He's Illumi's OC! I head canon that creating these different disguises, like Gitta, is a form of self expression for Illumi. He embraces his weirdness XD I had fun writing some of the things he may have liked as a kid, definitely see him as an R.L. Stine book worm.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Lemme know you thought :D Thank you for reading and see you soon!