Chapter Text
The second time was during an underworld gala hosted by some of the world’s most powerful mafias and criminal organisations, celebrating an alliance with Kakin’s three major mafias in some black market trade or what not. Hisoka didn’t particularly care for semantics.
He hadn’t seen the young assassin since their first meeting four years ago. Was almost 20 now, shoulders broader, standing almost a head taller, no longer that scrawny ex-circus performer from meteor city, chasing whatever whim gave him the greatest pleasure at that passing moment.
Well no, he was lying, he still did that, he was just a better long term planner now.
But even after stalking prey and chasing mindless hedon, then taking odd jobs to fund said hedon, when he heard the name ‘Zoldyck’, then the word ‘suitor’ through the grape vine, his heart still skipped a beat.
And that was how he found himself in the bed of a Kukan’yan politician’s daughter.
“Hisokaaaaa! Hurry up, we’re gonna be lateee!” She whined from the living room.
The magician picked up the bejewelled masquerade mask that sat on the vanity table. It was a deep wine red, though the jewels gleamed orange and pink when the light hit them at the right angles. A fox, it was akin to the top half of a Japponese theatre mask. Kitsune, if he remembered correctly.
As he balanced delicately on his nose bridge and pulled the elastic over his head, admiring how it complemented his pale undertones in the mirror, he called back.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming."
She wore an emerald gown with a high slit and a low neckline. He wondered vaguely if her father had purposely intended to whore her out in exchange for immunity against assassinations and his own political advantage. Not that Hisoka was shaming the girl, oh no, his mother had done something similar to him, though of course much cruder, in that whorehouse they called a home and for all his sins the magician was not a hypocrite.
Her turquoise peacock mask shimmered on her face, and Hisoka decided he didn’t find her beautiful really, pleasing to the eye if you stared long enough at her but not eye catching. Features small and plain and boring. Like a barbie doll, or a trophy wife. The latter of which Hisoka deemed apt given her purpose for going to the gala.
With a falsified gusto, he hooked her arm with his own and led them downstairs where their limousine was waiting.
You see, this particular Kukan’yan politician was no stranger to the criminal underworld, or the name Zoldyck. In fact, he’d hired them once before to eliminate an exceptionally outspoken member of an opposing party. He knew the Zoldyck were loyal to none but the code of assassins and their own family, that they were unafraid to take on conflicting contracts, and that he was not the only politician who could utilise the criminal underworld.
News had come out recently, that the Zoldyck were seeking a marriage alliance with another powerful family, to wed off their eldest son. And every notable figure who’d ever heard the name Zoldyck, or indeed witnessed their work, had since been scrambling to grab that alliance.
It had thus been decided that the politician’s daughter would become one of the Zoldyck Prince’s many suitors, or perhaps the better term was suitresses, though that term seemed a tad archaic to Hisoka.
Yet, the girl was rather opposed to spending the rest of her life as a trophy wife on a lonely, decrepit mountain, as any sixteen year old would have. Hence, in a final act of rebellion, she did the only rational thing and decided to hook up with a murderous clown.
A murderous clown, who was in fact much more interested in courting her supposed fiance than her.
Anyway that was how Hisoka ended up getting into the gala"
Men in lavish suits, women in swirling gowns decorated with all forms of finery, twirled in synchronised movements to the fast tempo of the ballroom music. On the sidelines, older gentlemen and women watched on, whispering. Among them, waitresses dressed in much plainer, shorter dresses flitted around, offering cocktails and refreshments with names Hisoka probably wouldn’t have been able to pronounce.
The pair strolled in, still linking arms. Hisoka was dazzled. Caught up in the thrill of spoiling assassin courting ceremonies, he had forgotten that the true host of the gala was the Kakin mafia, and they'd certainly gone all out. Diamond chandeliers. Marble floors and marble statues and marble steps leading to a marble stage where a few more dark figures sat, looking down on the hundreds of guests. It seemed that every single notable underworld figure had appeared, no doubt intrigued by the otherwise isolated Kakin mafia.
The stupored magician was pulled along by his date, who wasn’t at all astonished in comparison. Suddenly, she jerked her head, eyes widening and then pulled Hisoka in for a deep kiss. He let himself be manhandled for a moment, taking in a deep breath of her perfume as she finally released him.
He didn’t like her perfume.
“Christine!” An older man called out from the sides, dressed in a formal if not plain black suit. “What are you doing?!"
“Oh, it’s my dad.” She gestured, lips quirking up. “Let’s dance.”
Hisoka once again let himself get dragged away.
They joined the whirling rats king of dancers, his partner twirling and feinting away from her father. Hisoka caught her in his arms just before she could fall. They caught their breaths, her eyes searched the corners of the room for her father’s gaze. He was glaring again, gesturing for her to come back with one hand, but afraid to cause a scene. Hisoka himself was also searching, praying he’d find those piercing black eyes on him once again. He’d still recognise them right?
She tched, manoeuvring turning them such that Hisoka was facing her father instead. Fox-like yellow eyes watched him mouth, “They are here.” And pointed to the ground while widening his eyes with indignation. The magician smiled.
The orchestra sped up even more and a tall, well-built blonde man in a dazzling golden suit bumped into the pair. The girl blushed and was soon whisked away by the new addition, all of which Hisoka drowned out, still scanning every passing face.
The music changed once more, this time fading into a slow waltz and Hisoka spotted a lone figure in the middle of the dance floor. Black robes, Victorian-style and prince-like fanned out as he spun, cutting through the crowd like a knife. His face covered by what looked like a silver funerary mask, which was then hidden behind a translucent shroud.
Precise yet delicate, he moved to the beat of the Viennese waltz playing in the background. Hisoka too, partnerless approached, reaching an elegant gloved hand to the twirling figure, who took it graciously.
Their raised palms met as they circled each other, red and black, red and black, red and black. The magician caught his partner's small waist to spin him. Their feet moved in sickening synchronicity, world becoming a blur as they spun faster and faster, adrenaline coursing through Hisoka's veins. He let go of his partner's hand, lifting the smaller by the waist while continuing to spin. By then, several couples had stopped dancing to watch the two.
The magician twirled the smaller man another three times, steps quickening, but his partner only glided across the floor like a ghost, footsteps completely silent.
Hisoka caught the smaller frame in his arms, pulling him close so the top of his partner's head tickled his chin, then dipped him low, arm around his waist as his partner's back arched to almost touch the floor.
As he was guided back up, still panting, ears, the only part of his face that wasn't covered by the mask, flushing, Hisoka realised his partner's veil had been flipped over, revealing glassy black eyes. So lightless and unnaturally large the magician could admire his own reflection in them.
"Oh hello Illumi."
Illumi quickly guided the pair to a small balcony on the other side of the gala, overseeing a dark forest. He then took off the heavy silver mask to reveal his pale face, still flushed from the exertion of the dance, hair from his fringe stuck to his sweaty forehead. His once silky long hair had been cut short, Hisoka noted, slightly disappointed. But he'd grown much more into his beauty, face all sharp edges but with still a little baby fat left in his cheeks, and when he opened his mouth Hisoka discovered his voice had deepened considerably. He shivered at the slight timber
"Did you stalk me here?" He set the funerary mask on the ledge of the balcony to point an accusing finger at the magician.
“Oh, you wound me my dear. Perhaps I too have made a name for myself among the criminal underworld? Maybe I’m here to do business? Pick up beautiful and dangerous men and women? Is me coming here on my own terms so hard to believe?”
“You have made a name for yourself.” Illumi paused, and if it was anyone else the Magician would have thought it was for dramatic effect. “Hisoka Morow.”
“You researched me? I’m flattered!”
He shrugged, before his eyes softened with an emotion Hisoka couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“I have a younger brother who is very good at gathering information. It is said that you are a skilled fighter, a part-time mercenary, sometimes serial killer, clown…What else did he say…Ah, yes, also a sexual deviant and a complete pervert.”
The magician snorted at the abruptness of it all, biting his lip to hold back laughter.
“I’m a magician actually, not a clown.”
“I’ll take note of that.”
Ahh, the way he looked up at him like that with those boundless, blank eyes, just as innocent as they were years ago. The way he declared such crude accusations with a straight face. The way he could never expect what he was going to say next. Hisoka loved it. He wanted to hold that innocence, that boyish yet feminine beauty in his palms and crush it, hear the squelch and feel the red juice dribbling down his fingers, wanted to lick it off the lines on his palms.
A lewd expression came across his face as he turned to admire the boy.
“Ah, It seems Millu’s sources were right about that last part.” Illumi commented nonchalantly. “Your lipstick’s smeared by the way.”
Still chuckling, Hisoka tilted his head in the direction of the ball and held up an arm for Illumi to take, “Are you ready to go back?”
“No. You flipped my face-covering. I don’t want anyone to figure out who I am.”
“Ah? Another job?”
“Haven’t you heard? I am, as my grandfather says,” He said, holding up air quotes, “On the market. I have no interest in weak-willed, paranoia-ridden men who believe themselves to be powerful and important, shoving their daughters and sometimes sons in my face in preparation for a massacre that probably won’t even happen. I hid my face specifically to escape from them, and you ruined it.”
“Ah, I believe my date for tonight mentioned it.”
At the word “date”, Illumi’s arched brow furrowed slightly, his lower lip jutting out in the faint image of a pout. How adorable.
“Oh.”
Their conversation fell into comfortable silence for a while as the magician followed his companion’s gaze, pointedly looking at something at the edge of the woods. A large lorry drove a little deeper into the trees before stopping, upon which the driver and several other faint figures stepped out and began unloading the cargo, which looked almost like-
“Cages!” Illumi pointed for him, “They’re preparing for the Hunt later tonight.” He turned back to watch without any further elaboration.
“And what might this Hunt entail, my dear Illu?” Hisoka sighed endearingly.
“Don’t call me that. Anyway, it’s have-not hunting I think, something the sponsor of the masquerade, Kakin’s fourth prince takes interest in. They dress their nation’s slave children in prey animal masks like rabbits and deer and sheep, drug them and hunt them in the forests."
He paused.
"I thought this was why you attended the ball at all, given your…proclivities.” He replied, nonplussed at both the horrific event, and the implications of aforementioned proclivities.
“Alas, misunderstood once again.” The magician placed a hand on his chest and gave a wounded, look. “I have as much interest in this cannon-fodder as you have your grand selection of protection-racket trophy wives.”
His golden eyes darkened considerably as they fixed predatorily on void-like black ones, causing them to blink uncharacteristically.
“I prefer my prey able to fight back.”
The younger boy shuddered involuntarily.
“Your bloodlust is leaking out. Control yourself, I do not wish for my father to find me like this.”
He blinked again, reminding Hisoka strongly of a frog. He wondered mildly if his tongue could reach his eyes.
“For the record, I agree. Weakness and helplessness disgusts me. That is partially why I refuse to entertain a bride despite my father’s instructions. If I were to pick a partner, it would have to be someone powerful, an equal. Though I suppose this arrangement is just another reminder of my newfound place.”
A pause.
“I fear you will have to give me a little more context my dear, though, I am flattered that I already have a leg up over your suitresses.” The Magician chuckled, noting down this particular pattern of loose exposition, another quirk of his darling.
“Yes, you would make a much better wife.” Illumi nodded vigorously as Hisoka spluttered, nearly choking on his own spit.
He continued, ignoring the clown.
“My younger brother has been deemed a better fit for heir than I, so I was instructed to begin his heir training at once, just as my father trained me. But I pointed out that there was no need to waste resources since I had already completed my training and could just be heir. My father has thus decided to punish my speaking out of turn by embarrassing me completely in front of my connections and clients since common torture doesn't work on me anymore. He wants to remind me that I will not be the one continuing the Zoldyck line by marrying a powerful nen-user.”
Perhaps asking for too much context wasn’t a good idea after all. Zoldyck family mysteries could be uncovered on another night when Hisoka hadn’t drunk quite as much alcohol.
“So a Zoldyck heir is chosen not by order of birth, but by suitability?”
“Of course. Anything for the betterment of our family business."
"Killua is,” He paused, and that same soft look came into his usually blank eyes and Hisoka deemed it to imply strange pride, “exceptional, whereas I am only adequate. I simply did not wish for him to go through the same experiences I did. Nonetheless, it is for the good of the family and I have since learned my mistake.”
Hisoka cocked his head.
“I’m surprised. You seem to have a natural thirst for power and control, yet you do not seem jealous. An old friend of mine would have quoted the tale of Cain for you.”
His companion's eyes widened at that.
Shifting uncomfortably such that he was no longer facing him, Illumi paused to toss invisible hair over his shoulder before remembering he'd cut it off.
Hisoka's heart leapt in momentary triumph as he realised his casual observation was the first thing that had disturbed Illumi, ever, probably. Yet, the Magician did not feel his usual urge to poke and prod at the apparent sore spot, stick his fingers in the wound and scrape out bits of flesh with his fingernails. He instead prodded the strange feeling that had replaced his delight. If he had any common sensibility he'd probably describe it as sympathy or guilt, but alas he lacked all three of those things.
Perhaps it irked him that someone would slight his most prized toy. Yes that was it, it was an insult to his taste after all. And while he probably would like to add the new heir to his collection in the future, he couldn't possibly how someone could be more intriguing and delectable than Illumi.
"I'm going now. My father would not approve me spending time with you." Illumi said curtly, still refusing to look at Hisoka.
"Awww, don't be mad at me Illu, I was only pointing something outtt!" He whined. "We're still friends right?"
"Assassins don't have friends. It goes against our code of neutrality and hinders our ability to complete any mission necessary." He said coldly. "I would surely kill anyone I got close to anyway. I cannot love. It is in my nature."
"I'm the same darling, great minds truly think alike~"
"And fools rarely differ. Perhaps I should get an IQ test."
Still huffing, Illumi turned to leave, his velvet half-cape swishing behind him as he picked up his mask and veil. Suddenly, as he was about to push open the door, he felt a clawed hand catch his wrist in a grip that certainly would have broken a normal person’s bones.
“Aww, I really am sorry! I’ll make it up to you!” He tapped his chin with a finger. “How ‘bout a dance?”
Illumi just stared at him.
“Come on, you know you enjoyed dancing with me just now! Besides, you don’t want to go out and bump into your father and those boringly weak girls do you? You admitted it yourself, you’d rather spend time with me, yeah?”
Hisoka hopped onto the railing of the balcony, balancing miraculously on his high-heeled boots and offered his hand to Illumi.
With a defeated sigh, the assassin took it and gracefully stepped up as well. He looked down, suddenly noticing how high they were and stumbled a little in his uncomfortable dress shoes. He’d scaled much higher buildings for his missions, yet soon he felt warm hands circling around his waist to steady him.
He didn't realise how close they were until he felt Hisoka's warm breath on his neck.
They glided through the air, almost floating to the fast rhythm, fainter but still distinct through the ballroom doors.
“Hah, you’re such a good dancer, were you classically taught?” Hisoka panted as he guided Illumi’s leg to curl around his waist in Volcada.
“Of course. My mother believed it would make my movements more graceful and accurate when I fought or killed.”
At that, Hisoka let out a soft, lewd gasp. “Ahh, I’d love to see you kill while you dance.”
The assassin pointedly ignored this sentiment and instead focused on his partner’s movements. He moved faster and a lot more fluidly here than he did in the ballroom, his hips swaying wilder, curves almost feminine and feet moving much faster, crisscrossing in a noticeably Latin style. After several moments of analysis, Illumi reminded himself it was common social courtesy to reply, though he doubted Hisoka knew the definition of common courtesy.
“And you? Where did you learn to dance.” He questioned as the magician circled, then twirled him on the spot, the taps of his boots on the metal railings rhythmic and lively.
“I was a travelling man in my youth and learnt a wide array of dances. Performance has always been my passion you see. My mother herself danced Carmen, so I learnt the Flamenco at her feet.”
“It is beautiful.”
As the music ended, Hisoka found himself being dipped low and his boots losing grip on the railing, Illumi’s soft, dangerous hands on the small of his back the only thing between him and a 45 meters fall. It seemed that loss in the thrill of dance, he’d lowered his signature fickle caution.
“Would you kill me? Right now?"
“What for? There is no hit on you.” Illumi cocked his head. “And the fall wouldn’t kill you, some rudimentary ten would allow you to escape with only a few broken bones.”
“There are at least 10 needles hidden on your person right now, and I’ll have you know, the bounty on my head right now is worth exactly 854 million jenny.”
“Hmm…” Illumi feigned hesitation, dipping him even lower and tilting his neck to reveal pins stuck in the collar of shirt, before rolling his eyes and pulling Hisoka up. Both of them hopped back onto solid ground.
“Aw, Lumi darling, I thought you said assassins couldn’t let feelings of affection stop one from earning money?” The magician teased.
“I’m an assassin, not a bounty hunter. We could earn billions from selling out our clients, but that would destroy our reputation in the criminal underworld.”
He scowled as he looked at his partner’s smug face.
“It’s nothing personal."
“Of course!” Hisoka moved closer to him once again. He traced the boy's biceps with a single sharp fingernail. "I can tell you're much stronger than the first time I saw you though…Are you sure you can't indulge me? We're all alone…"
The seductive lilt of his voice made it sound far more inappropriate than a fight, though, Illumi supposed, to Hisoka a fight might be the most lustful thing attainable.
"I very much want to kill you now don't worry." He decided to play along. "But I don't want to attract any attention, right now. Father would surely have my head for that. Maybe…if you come find me again."
A rebellious part of his wanted to see Hisoka again despite knowing his family would surely object. And the over-thinker in him was afraid he would lose interest if all Illumi did was reject him. But all Hisoka did was hum and smile.
"Alright! Next time then."
Then, Illumi furrowed his brows again, this time in confusion.
“Why do you know your own exact bounty?”
“Oh yeah! Me and the old friend I mentioned before are competing to see who can get a higher price on their heads! To be fair he his whole friend group with him so he’s more notorious than me right now! But I’ll catch up!” Hisoka grinned and gave Illumi a thumbs up.
“I’d be much more established with a Zoldyck by my side though! Does your offer to take me as your bride still stand?”
Illumi woke up to the coppery scent of blood in the air. He turned on the unfamiliar bed, coming face to face to a corpse.
The events of the night before slammed into his mind, along with a hangover from the extra-strong Zoldyck poison training-proofed liquor his father had given him to “get through the night.” After he'd left Hisoka to meet with his father, the girl he was meant to meet had salivated all over his musculature and sharp handsomeness, pulling him into bed. He could only thank his father for his foresight.
He watched the blood pool at the base of her slit neck, some of it already clotting, utterly unconcerned but curious of who would waste their time to kill such an unremarkable girl.
Remembering how she had, insisted herself upon him, and drunk for the first time in his life, he hadn’t bothered to resist. How he stared at the ceiling, uncomfortable and bored out of his mind as she enjoyed him, reminding himself that this wasn’t like the old rich men who groped him while he shoved pins into their skulls in a low-cut dress, that his father said if he killed any of the girls he’d just be punished even more. He traced his hand absentmindedly in the blood, realising a hole had been cut in her bare chest, her heart missing.
It was sloppy work, a poor imitation of their family’s technique that even three year old Kalluto could have surpassed. Feeling sadistic, he wiped his hands on her balled up dress, put on his pants, then left to investigate.
“Illumi, what did you do.”
Silva stood in the middle of the banquet room, accompanied by the Hei-Ly mafia boss, his arms crossed as he gazed at the corpse hung haphazardly on the marble wall, blood dripping on gold decor.
“All the girls who attended the banquet yesterday are dead. I told you explicitly not to kill them. They are your punishment. Did I not myself clear?” There was steel in his voice.
“I did not kill them, you know I would never leave such a mess father. Not all the girls yesterday were linked to me, less than a dozen came to court me. It could be completely unrelated.”
He tilted his head towards the mafia boss. “I’ve heard your patron, Prince Tserriednich, has a passion for such, bloodshed, especially against young women, it could have been your own mafia personnel.”
Silva harrumphed, unable to think of a come-back as he and the Hei-Ly boss stalked out of the banquet hall.
Finally alone, Illumi approached the corpse on the wall. Ah, it was the plain-looking girl he’d seen Hisoka dancing with the night before. Her turquoise dress ripped and most of her organs disembowelled, most of them on the carpeted floor.
Curiosity overtook him when he saw something gleaming white in the gaping chest cavity and he ripped more cloth off the dress to wipe his hands as he reached in to grab it.
Ah.
The King of Hearts.