Hiya everyone! It took me longer to write this chapter because it ended up being too long, so I decided to cut it in half and give myself more time to work on the rest. It wouldn't be an Illumi fic if I didn't discuss Killua and Hisoka, so I hope I wrote them well here. Please enjoy the chapter :)

Chapter 14: Magicians Make Best Friends

No horrors could hide in the absence of the fog. Psyche documented as much as she could following the beaten trail of hunter applicants through the wetlands. There were dismembered limbs floating in murky red, bubbling puddles, beasts she's never seen before lounging in mud and reeds with scraps of their last meals jutting out through their sharp teeth, and partially eaten bodies of deceased applicants covered in thick clouds of yellow spores as butterflies flocked around them laying their eggs.

The first thing she wanted to do since entering the wetlands was leave it. Initially, she thought if Illumi or Hisoka perished she'd find their bodies. But it was evident that the swamp worked faster than she expected. If she couldn't find their bodies now then she never would. You either leave the wetlands alive or become a part of it. Remains scattered over miles or resting whole in the belly of a wild beast.

Psyche wasn't going to die here. She survived worse. She will find her husband. She will kill Hisoka—and by the time she is through with him he will have wished he perished in the swamp. As for the rest of the applicants who weren't lucky….She was going to see this through until the end for them. She zoomed in on an applicant's badge, covered in blood. No name. No face. Only a number.

Her phone flashed. A picture was taken.

The hunter association may turn a blind eye, but Psyche will make the world see what happened here.

To ease her mind, Psyche resumed listening to the audiobook of Natashia Novaek's debut novel: The Beguiling Phantom of Miss GraveRidge's Mortuary.

'I brought my boyfriend back to life. He was already dead when we first met.'

As the daughter of a mortician, Catalina GraveRidge learned from a very early age to take care of the dead just as well as herself. Hence why each young man (of untimely passing), instead of donning boring white shrouds of linen to protect against indecency, were dressed in finely pressed suits, tailored perfectly to their forms. Hair combed back, not shrouding a single detail of their faces. Organs pristinely intact and chests carefully stitched up after postmortems. Jaws yet to be wired shut. Inside the morgue, bright white lights illuminated the girl as she marched along a line of freshly dead corpses. Well, they looked like they were caught in peaceful slumber, ready at any moment to wake up, fling themselves off the examining table, and take Catalina by the hand and dance with her until the soles of their leather shoes wore thin. She diligently inspected each with her hands folded neatly behind her back as if she were a distinguished connoisseur of the recently deceased.

One of these will make for an excellent boyfriend.

All but one will be laid to rest in their coffins. All but one will not be burdened with keeping her secret until the day they die once again. After much deliberation she made her choice and set out to the graveyard with a satchel looped around one shoulder and the body of her soon to be beloved on a rolling gurney in front of her. Humming a sweet tune as the doors of the elevator closed with a shudder and rose her up from beneath the ground and into the world above. A whirring sound of gears turning enraptured her mind. There was no turning back. She made her choice. Catalina was a thief.

Only the night dwellers soaring across the moonlight sky and those below scuttling between headstones engulfed by pernicious undergrowths that dared to crack stone were the sole witnesses to her crime.

Even in the dark, she knew where the graves were by heart—where each stone perfectly lined and bolted upright from the freshly cut grass. At the furthest end of the graveyard, where no flowers were ever left, not for Christmas, not for Easter, not for birthdays nor other holidays. It was the site of where the first of many stones were laid. These stones withered from the cutting rain and paled under the scorching sun until the engravings on the stones were flat and smooth and one soul could no longer be distinguished from its neighbor. The final home of forgotten sons and daughters on the outskirts of GraveRidge Cemetery.

There! She saw him! Illuminated by fractals of moonlight caught between the gaps from the overgrowth above. His head was turned down, his eyelids closed—sleeping in front of his own headstone that only had slight bumps and grooves where letters and numbers used to clearly be engraved. His glow weakened as the days passed. His slumbers grew longer until Catalina feared one day he wouldn't wake at all. Growing fainter than the moonlight that first guided her to her one true love.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her with a radiant smile that not even death could dull. Oh! How her heart soared! With heavy eyelids he floated above and looked down at the body, uncertain. As if he was afraid to step into something beautiful.

Catalina was ready to make their love real. Hands to hold. A heart to feel. A second chance at a life worth living to fix the greatest wrong that was ever dealt in these young lovers' lives—his death.

Catalina was the worst thief.

But she was also the best girlfriend.

In this dreary swamp filled with dead and deadly things, Psyche smiled dreamily. There was never an improper time to read romance novels.

Speaking of corpses, Psyche could use one as well.

Having already caught and killed his pig for the second phase of the hunter exam, Illumi kept his gaze fixed on his little brother. Spying respectfully from a distance, inconspicuously peering through a well concealing thicket of shrubs, with his hand carefully hovering over a pair of needles (honestly, being overly cautious was a harmless reflex of his.)

Illumi wasn't going to blow his disguise (yet) nor kill anyone (in front of Killua) but one never knew when three applicants were to mysteriously disappear in the forest occupied by the world's most carnivorous pigs. The stakes were so high, it would be underwhelming if anyone didn't make it through the forest alive. (though the real danger, Illumi reasoned, was being around Hunters. It was clever using the swamp as the location of the first phase considering swamps have a miraculous tendency to make any and all evidence disappear. It was nature's very own Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser for the criminally inclined. Satotz, that cynical bastard. Well played.)

As perceptive as Illumi thought he was, he was genuinely baffled trying to decipher whether Killua was simply squandering his time or hoped to secure financial backing with a Hunter's license after access to his debit card was locked after running away (without money, Kikyo thought Killua would return home or at least go to the only place he knew he could get a lot of quick cash—Heaven's Arena. From the moment Killua fled home, Kikyo was manipulating where he would run) Illumi looked for any signs of remorse or guilt or paranoia on Killua's face, but all Illumi saw was Killua mucking about through the woods with three strangers of questionable intentions. Why any normal person would voluntarily spend time with a Zoldyck made no sense to Illumi if they weren't already acquainted with murder or at the very least about to be murdered.

There was also a blonde boy and judging from his clothing, it was clear he hailed from the Kurta Clan. Illumi was surprised there were any survivors left. The clan was very secretive and tucked themselves away in the Lukso Province, it was a paradise from what Illumi read. He'd like to visit there someday. The clan isolated themselves away from the world, from those who feared and coveted their scarlet eyes, which was why it took six weeks for the world to take notice. Years ago, he remembered watching coverage of the massacre over the news, and the countless controversial headlines that were put under fire by an outraged public. Ridiculing news stations for overshadowing the victims of the massacre by "glamorizing" the Phantom Troupe. From highlighting the mysterious lives of its members, to analyzing the ominous note left behind like a riddle to be solved, and going as far as calling their heinous killing spree as "The Phantom Troupe's Deadliest Heist." Even Silva had his own opinions to share and chided Illumi for watching the news, lest he began to develop an interest in the Troupe. Illumi couldn't think of anything more unfortunate than inheriting the unwanted title of sole survivor of a clan massacre. He imagined what that could do to a little boy. Losing his family—his whole world. Helplessly watching year after year as his loved ones are sold off in parts while the Troupe lives on in infamy. The tears of sorrow transform into the venom of rage. Illumi rarely felt anything for anyone, but even he felt pity for the boy.

Illumi's thoughts were silenced by #403's shrieks (Illumi couldn't be bothered remembering his name.) The man's shrieks were drowned out by sounds of the rampaging pig (whom Illumi began silently rooting for) chasing him around a tree. He was entirely unremarkable and that was enough of a description. One of Killua's flaws (though he liked to think he had none) is that he gets bored very easily and perhaps he didn't mind that buffoon's company purely for entertainment. #403 was almost eaten by a carnivorous tortoise and killua thought it was funny. When Illumi was almost eaten by a carnivorous tortoise and lived—killua screamed in horror. And Illumi was foolish to think they were having fun together. Well.

Then there was another boy around Killua's age—Gon. Illumi did bother to remember his name and this worried him.

The buffoon's shrieks were replaced with a ruckus of whoops and victory yelps as he lugged the pig over his back that looked as if it might snap him in two (if only.)

Gon, disgustingly full of cheer and optimism, smiled at his friends (Illumi disagreed) and neither bothered nor suggested lending a hand to the unremarkable man (Illumi agreed.) Illumi didn't trust any of them. The boy laughed, holding his pig over his head as if it didn't weigh more than a feather, "I've never had so much fun before!"

"I've never been more scared in my entire life!" the man huffed, sweat creasing his brow. Then he took in a giant breath before proclaiming triumphantly. "Let's get cook'in and ace this test!"

"YEAH!" Gon cheered.

"Last one there has to eat Leorio's cooking." Killua snickered with an impish grin before running off with Gon, out of the forest and to the kitchens.

"Hey, hey, hey! What do you mean by that, you little twerp—Kurapika, you're laughing too? C'mooooon. I'll have you know that I make the best pork chops. They're not even dry."

"Guess I'll never know." Kurapika ran behind Gon and Killua, and left Leorio behind—gawking.

Leorio gripped his fists around the pig, blood rushing to his face. "Oh yeah, well just you wait…." He sprinted out of the forest and past the trio. "YOU'RE ALL GOING TO EAT MY COOKING AND LOVE IT!"

"I bet we will!" Gon smiled.

"Gon." Killua chided.

"What? I really like pork chops."

"Even if they're Leorio's?"

"Even better if they're Leorio's."

Killua snorted. Smiling. Laughing. Remorse free, guilt free, care free…

Oh Kil…Illumi did not like what he was seeing. Watching Killua blindly sabotage his future was like experiencing an aneurysm about to rupture. Illumi wanted the best for Killua. He knew what was best for Killua. And the best was not here. It was far away from this pig infested, miserable swamp hole and back home at Kukuroo Mountain. Where Illumi, Killua, and every Zoldyck was meant to be. In time, Killua will see it too. But for Illumi—

It wasn't quick enough. Time alone wasn't reliable enough for getting the job done. A problem left unchecked only worsens. Illumi was intimately aware of this fact first hand.

Illumi whispered softly under his breath. Cool rage smelted into a perfect, controlled flame. "You're throwing everything away."

"Who is?" A voice popped out from behind Illumi.

"Shhh." Illumi stuck out his hand to the voice, not bothering to look behind him as he shushed Hisoka.

Hisoka blinked, looking at Illumi's outreached hand—and high fived it.

Illumi pulled it back. The noise! THE NOISE! SHHHH! His little brother has heightened hearing so they must be quiet—why didn't Killua hear them? Illumi may be in disguise but that didn't give Killua reason to slack off—in fact it should have given Killua more incentive to stay alert. What if Illumi was a sniper and fired a shot at him? In one second Killua would have been D-E-A-D and what does that spell? It spells LISTEN to your surroundings because the dead can't read. Illumi subtly rattled the branches of the bush, withholding himself from ripping the shrub out of the ground altogether, to make Killua notice him. Still, no reaction. For fucks sake, no innocent person casually hides in listening distance in a bush near a Zoldyck. Illumi wanted to jump out of the bushes and reprimand Killua for his sloppiness. This was unacceptable!

Without being asked or invited, Hisoka squatted down and peered into the bush alongside Illumi. He wasn't necessarily appalled nor pulled himself away when Hisoka got close to him. Illumi looked down into the thick undergrowth of leaves and scraggly branches poking at his legs, he didn't know why he did, but he kept his eyes there until Hisoka stood up and he could no longer feel the magician's warmth against him anymore. Hisoka only caught a quick glimpse of the backs of those applicants he spared back in the wetlands, the ones that he passed. They ran away as they carried pigs over their heads and hurried to cook up winning meals. Which was what they should also be doing too.

"Do you know them?" Hisoka smirked, curiosity piqued. "Or would you like me to introduce you? I see no point in hiding."

"You." Illumi raised an eyebrow, aghast. "You know them."

"You make it sound like an accusation. Gittarackur, please," Hisoka lilted his voice, playfully. Walking along an invisible tightrope only he could see. "Everyone here knows who I am."

Illumi opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Fair point.

Hisoka chuckled, now upside down, and walked along the invisible line with his hands.

"How?"

Hisoka bent backwards, thrilled when he looked at an irked Illumi upside down. "For your displeasure only, we might have run into each other in the wetlands and they may have wanted to fight."

"Might. May." Illumi narrowed his eyes, vexed. Irritation coating his voice. "It's simple. Did they or did they not react to a fight you picked, no doubt."

"Perhaps." Hisoka was all smiles.

Illumi tched.

Hisoka struck a nerve, enjoying the reaction he was getting out of the stoic young man. These people had to be more than just strangers to Gittarackur. The cook off could wait, Hisoka wanted to know who they were to him. Was he scouting prey too?

"You're giving me a look."

"Be more specific. I've given many."

Hisoka wasn't the only person giving Illumi a dozen or so looks. It reminded Illumi of his dear wife. He left Psyche all alone with his undeniably, yet slightly (what an understatement) strange family after his wedding. Maybe he should have warned her instead of silenting wishing for her to have a brave heart. No matter, he made his peace with it even if they were waging war. Psyche could be sulking or fuming or extraordinarily be fairing better than he could have possibly imagined in the Mountain waiting for his return. Psyche, unofficially his mother's shiny new plaything (aka the daughter she wished she always had and tirelessly made it her life's mission to compensate for) was being spoiled and fixated upon by Kikyo's doting attention. Psyche most likely couldn't spare the time to think about him for let alone one second.

(Currently, Psyche is being relentlessly pursued by a very hungry giant caterpillar, putting a stop to her short career as an amateaur journalist.)

Illumi's jaw flexed—it was a quick start and end to a smile.

Hisoka noticed the almost smile on Illumi's face. "Do I amuse you?"

"No," Illumi deadpanned, thinking of other things with his gaze fixed somewhere far away.

Hisoka's smile disappeared. "Well…"

Illumi pointed back to the field through the bush despite no one being there. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking about someone else. One of them is my little brother."

Hisoka's smile came back. "Oh! A brother! How unexpected." So much for prying. Hisoka was glad he reframed from killing those applicants, it was poor manners killing family members of friends he just met. Though life would be far too boring if he didn't start at least one vendetta. A scandal for another time, perhaps. Hisoka paused for a moment, thinking. "For all I know, you can just be a stranger spying on them, let's say, secretly carrying out an assassination."

"I'm not working today. Besides," Illumi ignored Hisoka's laugh—that wasn't a joke. "You can believe me or not at your own discretion. I don't have to present you with proof and force you to believe me. I don't plan on interfering. I'm just here to look out for him. From a secure distance." Though Illumi wished Killua would notice him. It was fun at first but now it is getting ridiculous.

Hisoka smiled, almost dreamily, which Illumi couldn't quite understand why. "It doesn't hurt to ask, but I think I do. Believe you, that is. You seem like an honest enough person." Hisoka didn't dislike honest people.

"Occasionally. You caught me on a good day."

"So which one is your brother?" Not Gon. Not Gon. Not Gon.

Illumi cocked his head to the side, pain pulsed in his head when he did. He fought a wince and kept his lips tight in a thin, narrow line. His needles have been in him for too long. Illumi estimated they ran for at least fifty miles and the run would have been more enjoyable if he didn't have to wear his needles. No one enjoyed a runner's high more than he did, but now he is just uncomfortable. He has to take them out. Now. "You mean you can't tell?"

Illumi looked at him as if the question wasn't hard at all, making Hisoka feel thick headed for not knowing. Hisoka again looked deeper into the man's face. At the elongated chin, high cheekbones, red eyes, and angular jaw behind all those bulbous needles waiting for the face of one of those four applicants to appear to him clear as day.

Hisoka hummed. I haven't the faintest idea. But that clearly wasn't the answer the man wanted to hear. He hoped it wasn't Gon. That would make things awkward.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Illumi clapped his hands together once. As if just remembering he was wearing needles, and an entirely different face. It was hard to think with a pulsing headache.

"Sorry? Whatever for?"

Illumi needed reprieve more than wanting to give Hisoka a hint. Still, he carefully pulled out the gold needles one at a time, and felt a wave of immediate relief wash over him. Letting the pain vanish entirely as if it was never there at all. As if his body was bound into a tight knot and now he was finally able to unwind and breathe.

Hisoka couldn't look away, attentively watching every second—every savory bite—of Gittarackur's transformation. This was a man who possessed immense talent for a grisly craft Hisoka didn't know he craved to devour more of until now. A craft that was enchanting and dreadful at exactly the same time. It was like a fairytale. The exact moment when the princess kisses the frog and then transforms into a prince. Except the prince could change into the frog whenever he pleased by his own power alone, and being a frog wasn't a curse, but a choice. It was freedom. This was a man who knew what he liked and was proud of it. Hisoka immediately forgot about their guessing game and the second phase of the exam. He could fail the exam now and he wouldn't give a damn. He became more entranced than he already was with the man in front of him and wondered if he should risk the embarrassment of telling the man an irrefutable fact which he most likely already possessed—he was a prince among frogs. Peculiarly beautiful and breathtakingly horrifying.

Gittarackur disappeared and left a mysterious man in his place. His silk hair fell from his head, around his shoulders and down his back in sweeping currents of shining black water, darker than night. His face was strong, yet delicate. His skin was ghostly pale as if he spent his days lounging in the shadows. His lips looked cold to touch as if they could cast anything into a veil of frost with the slightest breath of a kiss. His red eyes disappeared until they were devoid of color and left behind a cold, stark black that created a harsh contrast against his softer edges. Hisoka was mistaken. The darkness in his eyes was not a reflection, but an indisputable part of who he was that could neither be challenged nor denied, but embraced. The kind of darkness that inevitably brews when one lives long enough to see more of the world than should have been allowed. This man was different from Gittarackur. He was beautiful and haggard, gentle and dangerous—a bewildering kind of beauty.

Hisoka wanted to know who he was, but the man went on about his little brother whom Hisoka now lost interest in. He could barely pay attention as he was fantasizing about the bearer of this wondrous new face—

"He cries," Illumi said, softly. "When he thinks no one is watching." Breaking Hisoka out of his reverie.

Hisoka blinked, confused from the unexpected remark. "From what I've gathered, he's in good company, Gittarackur." Whoever he was, Hisoka wasn't listening to find out if it wasn't Gon. "Those boys all seem to be very nice and dependable. Headstrong, stubborn, yet good people." He gave glowing remarks about each he encountered.

Illumi internally grimaced. He formed his own opinions after hearing Hisoka's assessments. He saw Leorio as a man who'd turn on his brother for money, and he wouldn't be the first to try and fail. He saw Kurapika, remarkable and resilient, now betraying his brother the moment he became a Blacklist hunter, apprehending a Zoldyck would no doubt bolster his career. He saw Gon as a little boy who didn't know any better—and that put him in the worst position of all three.

"That's a shame." Illumi said before looking back to the empty field where Killua no longer was. "What they are is of no concern to me, but it is to my brother. He is so infuria—" From the moment he left the mountain to squatting down in a bush, Illumi was guilty of constantly criticizing Killua's faults as to why he left home at all. Of course, he was angry that Killua left home without a word–-No. Killua did speak his mind, but Illumi was the one who wasn't listening. Then came a feeling which Illumi denied till now—guilt. It incessantly gnawed in his chest because it was the right feeling all along. In recent years he's tried harder to be more honest with himself, so why was he undoing all his progress? He noticed the signs but was insufferably blind, playing off Killua's crestfallen attitude during their last training session as brash laziness. Illumi was annoyed and brisker than usual, wielding his quick whip of a temper just like their father's at even the slightest of Killua's mistakes—he probably made things worse. Not probably. Did. He assumed Killua developed a sudden distaste for hard work, when it was much more. In the blink of an eye, Illumi became everything he never wanted to be—his own father, becoming a demanding lug of a brute expecting nothing less than perfection. No doubt, Killua must have felt like he hadn't room to wiggle let alone breathe under Illumi's scrutinizing pressure.

Illumi wasn't there to stop Killua from running away while he intentionally chose to spend less and less time at home. Maybe through Killua's eyes, it was Illumi who ran away first. Illumi chose a life away from home and Killua simply followed his lead.

Illumi sighed, tired. Tucking his knees to his chest and laying his forehead on them. He was the one to blame, not Killua. He couldn't tell if he was having a rare moment of self reflection or a mental breakdown. Honestly, it could be either, the line between the two was very blurry.

Hisoka knelt down next to Illumi.

Illumi looked up briefly, and scowled. All doom and gloom. The last thing he wanted to do was to hug out his feelings with a clown in a shrub.

Hisoka held out his hand.

Correction, these were now the darkest of times.

Hisoka made a fist and with a dramatic swoosh—a flower appeared out of thin air. It had beautiful black petals that shimmered like wet stone after rainfall. Hisoka smiled. "When we first met, I told you that magic should bring people joy."

Illumi was hesitant as he reached out his hand. Sadness and gloom disappeared as he took the flower. He blinked, slowly twirling the flower around in his hand. Illumi noted the color. "It matches my eyes."

Hisoka chuckled. "I'm glad. Magician's make best friends, don't they? Because now I can show you what I see." And Hisoka saw raw beauty. Flowers were all he knew how to make out of nen, that and bungee gum balloons. They were crowd favorite tricks he picked up while working in the circus as a kid. He was glad they still came in handy.

Illumi smiled faintly.

"Ah, there's a smile."

"Don't encourage me." Illumi joked. He never really appreciated flowers, but this one was beautiful. "Ever since my brother was little my family's had high hopes for him. We have high hopes because we believe in him—and if you knew my father, that says a lot because once you blow it, he never wastes his time again. But once you get to know Killua, you realize it goes beyond any once in a generation kind of jargon. Though, he clearly is once in a generation," once upon a time, Illumi was too. "But for more reasons that even I overlooked. Killua's smart, he is one of the brightest kids you'd ever meet, he's always curious and asking questions, and he thinks he's a century ahead of all of us—and sometimes he is but don't tell him that. Shh. The drive he possesses is astounding, it's irritating when he can't see it himself. And when he puts his head to something there is no stopping him because he doesn't stop until he succeeds. He's stubborn like that. He doesn't give up. That's not him. That's not his nature. And I'm…. a total ass." Illumi said softly, with a slight grimace. Acknowledging the ultimate truth. Then he popped his lips open. "I mean, of course I am, this isn't anything new, he tells me–often!" Illumi chuckled. "Apart from playing the deranged fellow venting into a shrub, I don't encourage him as much as I should, see the little fucker lives off praise like leeches to blood, so naturally I don't indulge him…fuck." His voice was steady and calm, apart from the occasional hiccup of swears.

He's very talkative all of a sudden, that's good. It must be nice to have a family. Hisoka thought. He wondered what it would be like to be loved by someone like Illumi. Someone who is protective of his family and thinks of them often.

Then Hisoka wondered what it would be like to be loved by Illumi. He shooed the thought away.

Illumi breathed. "But getting back to what you said earlier, hypothetically, let's say Killua believes them to be good people. He gets his hopes up, becomes attached, and then–-" Illumi stopped, and let his fingers run down the smooth surface of the flower petals. "And then there are complications. He already knows this. We're doing our best to work on it."

Hisoka waited for Illumi to explain what he meant by that. Complications. Illumi didn't elaborate.

It was dangerous revealing who he was, but then again, Illumi was dangerous. And he was his own protection. Maybe Illumi was on the verge of a breakdown because he'd never put blind faith into a man he just met hours ago. Let alone a clown–uh, magician. Hisoka was a magician who created flowers out of nen. Illumi squinted curiously at the flower and wondered if there was anything else in it. But there was something about Hisoka that reminded Illumi about himself. He cut straight to the point and without hesitation. Illumi told Hisoka about his family, their trade and how it could be a difficult business for some to navigate and a magnet for the nastiest sort of people. He waited for Hisoka to laugh or run but he did neither. Hisoka listened. Patiently. Thoughtfully. Without judgment. This was new to Illumi. Illumi, as someone who liked to talk and be listened to, could easily get drunk on this.

Illumi continued to explain there was a fundamental truth that never ceased to exist: it was always dangerous to be without Family.

Nothing good comes from running away and now Killua was all alone, unprotected, and worse, didn't care. There were times when Illumi questioned why he had to be so much older than his brothers, but now he couldn't imagine his life any other way. There was no other way. From the moment his little brothers were born, they needed a guardian looking out for them, protecting them, making them strong and resilient, but most of all safe.

If Illumi's brothers traveled to the ends of the earth, if they were starved, destitute, or irreversibly dimwitted—there could be a thousand different if's that will always lead to one definite end. He would follow. He would bring them home. Always. Even if they did not want his help, nagging lectures—or him. That's how far Illumi's love went. Love was not caving and giving into what they thought they wanted, but desperately needed. It was tough love, but Killua needed it like medicine to tame a scorching fever broiling his head, lest his mind be lost to a life of endless wild dreams.

Hisoka pouted, ready to shed a tear-none came. Still, he was touched by this family's gut wrenching tale. There was love even amongst cold blooded killers. "You enrolled in the hunter exam just to look after your baby brother, that warms my heart."

"He doesn't know I'm here. You won't tell." Not a question.

Hisoka crossed his heart.

"Oh, that means nothing." Illumi said dryly as he tucked the flower between his lips (Hisoka thought he was going to eat it) and began picking mushrooms off the ground and stuffing them inside the jacket of his green suit. These mushrooms will make a delicious savory sauce he can garnish with his pig.

"It's not much of a talent compared to yours, but I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Illumi wanted to tell Hisoka words were cheap and only time would tell if Hisoka was true to his word. But there was something about Hisoka that made Illumi think otherwise, maybe for the simplest reason…he was starting to like Hisoka. Oh no. Liking people he just met? Illumi didn't want to turn this into a regular habit. He turned the mushroom in his hands, watching the white spores underneath the cap drift down and dust his hand like fallen snow. Nah, friends were exhausting and he has mushrooms.

Then he had an idea. One of the most daring, stupidest ideas he has ever had in his life. He told Hisoka his real name.

"Illumi." Hisoka said his real name out loud and it sent a thrill of excitement through him.

"For the purpose of the hunter exam and in front of others, please use Gittarackur. You can call me by my real name in private."

In private. Those words sent a delightful shiver through Hisoka, thrilled to be a part of Illumi's secret. "I'm looking forward to it." Hisoka hoisted his pig over his shoulder—and Illumi's on the other. "Allow me."

"Oh. Thank you." In an instant, Illumi expected the facade to come crashing to an abrupt end. For Hisoka to steal his pig, sabotage his chance at taking the exam, and the nen flower to explode in his face. Waiting for Hisoka to reveal it was a trick all along. Instead Hisoka carried his pig with good grace—happy to lug two gigantic beasts over his shoulders if it meant he could spend more time with the guy who recreationally sticks needles in his face and vomits his feelings into shrubs. What alternate universe did Illumi step into if he was this likable and instead of people running away from him they volunteered to carry his stuff? (he kind of liked it) And the weirdest thing is…Illumi didn't stop Hisoka. He held the nen flower in his hands like it was a lifeline in a storm he didn't know how to sail through. With a jacket full of wild mushrooms and the flower in his hands Illumi finally had the shocking realization that Hisoka was deadly serious about wanting to be his friend. If he wasn't careful he was at risk of making another which was the last thing he needed—None of this is happening. Illumi rationally reasoned he was nine agonizing months into a deep coma and Killua running away from home was a recurring nightmare, Psyche was crying over his sleeping still body and none, absolutely none of this was happening, because this is reality and in reality Illumi didn't have men flocking to carry his pigs and people wanted to see his mugshot projecting over the city's largest billboards with 'most wanted' flashing in bright lights. This couldn't be real.

Instead of pinching himself, Illumi pierced his needles into his head and transformed back into Gittarackur. This was real. Hisoka was real. Illumi wasn't in a nine month long coma, which was somehow less scary than being with a man who wanted to be with him. Willingly! There were 405 applicants and Hisoka chose him? Illumi never knew what it felt like to be popular, but it probably felt something like this.

Now that Illumi got a good look at this strange magician, Hisoka wasn't entirely unpleasant to look at. And in this rare moment of generosity, his side profile wasn't terrible either.

Hisoka mused, "on the way, you can tell me more about he-who-shall-not-be-named."

"Ah, so that's your game. And you can say my name without Death Eaters coming after you. No worries."

"I've never met anyone like you before. You have a face that people can't not remember."

There had to be a backhanded compliment in there somewhere. Regardless, Illumi accepted it.

"It seems to me that to know Gittarackur is to know you. I like him."

Illumi kept his lips in a thin line. Confused. "I'll be sure not to tell him that." He stopped then started again. "You're really not put off by him? Most people are terrified of him. Not that I mind." Illumi could tell how much Psyche would have adored Gittarackur on account of how she reacted to his green suit. His other self was in the way of jeopardizing his own marriage. Illumi couldn't get this type of philosophical insight if he wasn't his own therapist, and unbottling his feelings without having to call the police on himself was also a perk.

"Do you like to scare people then?"

"I've never been asked that question before."

"You're very calm."

"I know how to answer this."

"Now I'm curious."

"Well, I know how not to answer."

Hisoka hummed. "So you've gotten better."

"No." Worse.

Hisoka laughed.

"People find it hard to grasp anything to like in Gittarackur as I do. But if you dig deep, really deep down, there's something to like. Maybe." If assassination falls through then there's always Spirit Halloween. He's already dressed up for it. "In all seriousness, not intentionally. I didn't make Gitta because I wanted him to be scary. Then again, I've always gravitated towards weird things and I guess what I find weird, most people find scary." Illumi shrugged. It was best not to mention he went through a phase of marathoning all the Hellraiser movies (it was a wild weekend) when he was 20 and deconstructed a rubik's cube then rebuilt it entirely with scrap metal into a lament configuration, painting it gold and creating stencils to spray paint the details in brown…it was a fun project but Milluki wasn't excited as Illumi was because it was his rubik's cube.

"I see." Hisoka nodded. "I saw you around Tonpa–"

"Oh yeah, no, that was intentional. I think I traumatized him."

"You gave the rookie crusher a taste of his own medicine, and I wouldn't be surprised if you acquired a few fans in the process. I gravitate toward weird things myself. I mean, look at me."

Illumi didn't mean to snort. "Look at you? Look at me."

"And here I am. I can speak for myself when saying that being anyone other than me is so boring." Hisoka smiled. "If Gittarackur is here now that means he's anything but boring. Neither are you."

Illumi followed Hisoka to the exam site, not realizing he was still holding the flower the entire walk there. A faint smile still lingering on his lips.

Perhaps it was alright to pass the time with Hisoka. With a so-called friend. If only until the exam comes to an end.

Illumi doubted their paths would ever cross again after that anyway.

Thank you for reading! *collapses from exhaustion* the amount rewriting I did for this chapter was unreal, i'm ready to sleep for a thousand years! But it was fun hehe Hurry up, Psyche! Hurry up! A clown is falling for your husband-the fic is still Illumixoc, but we all know Hisoka is, well, Hisoka. Plus i wanted to write how Hisoka felt when he saw Gittarackur transform into Illumi for the first time, so I hope it came out well enough XD So does anyone else rewatch the anime to just find and replay Illumi's scenes? Yeah that's me rn. I can't be the only one who feels like we didn't get enough of Illumi in the hunter exam and wondered how he fared during all the phases, so that's what I'm doing here writing those in between moments of the exam :D A few things Illumi said about Killua here relate to the next chapter, and i can't wait to dive into the "assassins don't need friends" and put a fun little spin on it :3

All secrets will be revealed soon, so until next time! Lemme know what you thought :D and I bid you all a happy harvest!

(The manga is back! AHHH! WE'RE GOING TO GET MORE ILLUMI AND HISOKA!)