Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

What Leorio does comment on, however, is the fact that he wakes up with a very happy, very slimy frog on his face.

He rouses himself slowly, a half-coherent groan escaping his lips as he tests his limbs gingerly. He’s stiff and achy from the cold, but otherwise everything is functioning fine. 

He peels his eyes open. He’s greeted by a small, mischievous frog perched on his nose. 

“Hi, Leorio!” Gon says. Shouts, more like. His voice crashes through Leorio’s eardrum like a bomb. “Good morning!”

Leorio bites down on a colorful curse - Gon is the prince, after all, and a sixteen-year-old at that - and settles for letting out a strangled yell, plucking him off his face. “Get off of me! How long have you been sitting here?”

Gon gives him a shit-eating grin. “An hour or so.”

“And no one said anything?” Leorio casts a glance across the clearing, where Kurapika’s putting out the fire. 

Kurapika catches his gaze, raises an eyebrow, and looks away pointedly. 

Leorio sits up ungracefully, his ears assaulted by Gon and Killua’s combined cackling. “Fuck you.” He flips them all off to emphasize his point.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Killua says. “Hurry up. We have to go soon.” His eyes narrow minutely. “You do know where you’re taking us, right?”

“I have a map, if you want to check.” Killua may not trust him yet, but he hadn’t slit Leorio’s throat in his sleep. Small miracles. Leorio might as well be cooperative, even if his face is still covered with dirt from Gon’s feet. “The exact location of the witch isn’t known, but I’m at least confident that she exists.”

Kurapika stamps out an ember and crouches down next to Leorio. “We’re probably around here right now,” he says, tapping at a spot on the map. “The swamp is a few miles away. How deep do you think we have to go?”

“Near the center, probably. It should be safe during the daytime; if we set out now we can make it there before noon. That’ll give us enough time to get back to the palace by the time the sun sets.” 

Killua stretches leisurely. “No sense in waiting, then,” he says. “Let’s go. Gon said he wanted to show me the swamps anyways.” 

“We’re not tourists,” Leorio says. “We’re trying to break you free from a curse.’ 

The two kids shrug in unison. “There’s no reason not to make it fun, though,” Gon says. 

Leorio really is getting too old for this. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Don’t get lost, though. I can’t guarantee that there aren’t crocodiles or other predators in the area. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“I don’t think it can get any worse than turning into a frog and a cat,” Kurapika teases. He pulls down the shelter and hides the rest of the fire. “Lead the way, Leorio.” 

While Kurapika keeps careful lookout for any patrolling guards, Leorio and Gon jump on the opportunity to introduce Killua to the swamps in the western part of the island. Whale Island is crowned with a mountain to the north, beaches sweeping across its south, and forests and swamps to the east and west. It was as if someone had shoved the entire world into a small island moored in the middle of the ocean. 

“That’s why a lot of people like living here,” Gon explains. “The different amount of habitats means that Whale Island can stay more or less self-sufficient. Of course, the island is still small, so the population can only be so big. A few of the people that live here are tourists and live in rented houses or hotels. The people who actually stay here have been here for generations.” 

In that sense, Whale Island is a lot like Kukuroo Mountain; two nations with drifting populations, people that passed through its borders according to the season. Unlike the Zoldycks, however, the Freecss welcomed sailors and fishermen to their shore. They’d stay for the harvests, fill the taverns with stories from around the world, and then set sail again, only to return during the next bountiful season.

For the Zoldycks, the coming and going of people was a life or death situation. People came as runaways or criminals and left to look for bounty. Whether they came back alive or in a coffin was entirely up to them. 

“So you get to meet a lot of famous criminals, right? The ones that we can’t even catch?”

Killua snorts. “Even among murderers there’s a hierarchy,” he says. “They might be bad in other countries, but compared to my family they’re nothing. If they act up - “ he mimes slicing off his head. “My mom usually deals with domestic affairs. It’s nothing big.” 

Leorio looks faintly sick. “So that’s where all the mass murderers go?”

“Kukuroo Mountain is a safe bet, yeah.”

“How do people just let the Zoldycks do that?” Leorio wonders. 

“It’s a little like vigilantism,” Killua says. “Just in a more fucked up way, I guess. A lot of the other nations can’t - or won’t - deal with their crime rates. The Zoldycks help clean up after them, take in the criminals and make them do bounties if they want to survive. Besides, we help provide necessary… services.”

“Services?”

“Assassinations,” Kurapika supplies. “A lot of nations pay the Zoldycks not to bother their nobles. That’s why the nation can thrive.”

“It’s really just a matter of who pays more. If we have a peace treaty with one nation but another offers us a bigger sum to kill their king or whatever, that treaty could be nullified in an instant.”

Gon makes a noise of contemplation. “I guess a lot of bad things can be pardoned for money, right?”

Killua gives him a side-glance. “Right.”

“Money makes the whole world go around!” Leorio declares, his eyes gleaming fanatically. “You can buy women, shelter, power - whatever you want!”

Kurapika raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Anyways,” he says, diverting the subject. “We’ve been walking for an hour. I’ve seen a few patrols, probably sent by the fake prince, but no one’s spotted us yet. Which is a miracle .” He looks pointedly at Leorio’s feet. “Somehow his tripping and swearing hasn’t gone noticed.” 

Killua snickers. “We’re probably almost there, right?”

“You can tell by the cold that we’re near the middle of the swamp, yeah,” Leorio grumbles. “Everything grows in this direction, as if there was like.. A magnet or something. I think we’re looking for a big central tree of some sorts.” 

The air is humid and cloying. It sticks to their clothes like a burr, an uncomfortable mix of biting cold and suffocating heat from the small amounts of sun that get through the trees. Thanks to Gon’s uncanny levels of perception they had managed to avoid the numerous pitfalls scattered across the ground, but they were all flecked with healthy amounts of dirt. Occasionally, Gon and Killua will try to push each other into a puddle, leaving all four of them soaked to the bone with water. By the time Leorio points out the tree, Killua looks like he had drowned several times. He shakes himself off and squints through the half-darkness to get a better look. 

 “It’s huge,” he comments. “It also has… what the fuck is that?” 

The ground under their feet was knotted by the roots of the tree, which extended for several meters. The tree itself was bent by age, moss hanging like curtains from its long, withered branches. There was a small set of stairs carved into its trunk that curved up and into the highest parts of the tree. 

“That’s a really pink door,” Gon says, jumping onto Killua’s head to get a better look. “I don’t think that’s a natural part of the tree.” 

Kurapika leads them to the stairs and looks upwards, his eyebrows drawn together. “Is that…”

He falls silent and shuffles closer to the tree to let them onto the stairs. Faintly, they can hear music, the beat pulsing and vibrating through their feet. Killua lets out a whistle.

“At least the Nen witch has good taste,” he says. 

Leorio scratches his chin. “I’ve never heard this singer before.”

He gets three identical looks of horror. 

“You’ve never listened to Beyonce?” Kurapika says disbelievingly. 

Gon puts his head in his hands. “This country is going to ruins.” 

“Not even the - all my single ladies - no?” Killua shakes his head despairingly. “The first thing I’m doing when we turn back is making you a playlist. This is horrible.” 

“They only played country music where I was,” Leorio says gloomily. “I hated it.”

Kurapika pats him on the back sympathetically. 

The music is loud enough that Kurapika’s first knock goes unheard. Faintly, Killua can pick up the noises of someone shuffling around the space inside the tree. Kurapika clears his throat and knocks again. 

There’s a pause, and then someone shouts, “Who’s there?”

“We came to ask for help,” Kurapika responds, raising his voice above the music. “We heard of your abilities, and were hoping you could assist us with a… concern of ours.”

The music switches off a second before the door blasts open so violently Leorio almost topples off the side of the tree. Kurapika catches the edge of the door before it falls off the hinges, looks up as if to reprimand the owner, and then drops his gaze suddenly.

“Couldn’t you have waited until the song was over?” A girl demands. Her head is tilted up so she can actually look Kurapika in the eye. “Who’s teaching you manners these days?” 

Despite having a blunt accent and a dress practically choked with frills, she poses an intimidating figure; all five feet of her height are bristling with impatience and irritation. Kurapika backs up a step and holds the door in place placatingly. 

“You are the Nen witch, right?” Leorio asks gruffly, dusting a few leaves off his shoulders. 

“‘Course I am,” she says dismissively. “And before you say anything more, I can already tell you’ve gotten yourself into some sort of mess. Who - “ 

She catches sight of the frog and cat perched by Kurapika’s feet. Her eyes widen. “You two…?”

Gon bobs his head in lieu of a greeting. 

She blinks twice and then marches across the threshold, forcefully grabbing Killua by the scruff in one hand and Gon in the other. Staunchly ignoring the warning look she gets from Kurapika, she holds Gon up suspiciously. “What sort of Nen did you mess with?” she demands. “Where did you even find it?” 

Gon waves his limbs and pushes her face away from his. “I didn’t find it, it found me,” he says woefully. “Can we please come in? We kind of have a time limit.”

The witch clicks her tongue. “I expect you’ll have some sort of payment?”

Kurapika silently holds up the royal seal. The witch’s eyes widen and then she smiles shrewdly, her lips curling up with an air of satisfaction. She looks between the four of them and then seems to come to some agreement with herself.

“Get in there, then,” she says, and tosses the two animals into the room.

The interior of the tree is decorated like the inside of a pinata. Every stereotypically feminine object imaginable adorns the walls and the carpeted floor. Even the pot in the middle of the room bubbles with bright pink liquid. 

“Somehow,” Killua says out of the corner of his mouth, “this makes things a lot more ominous.”

Gon picks a fuchsia ribbon off his head and croaks in agreement. 

The witch waves Leorio and Kurapika to a spot on the floor, eyeing the dirt on their clothes with poorly disguised disgust, and flounces into a chair piled with pillows. “So,” she says. “What happened to you two? I can tell that the source of the Nen ability is pinned on the frog, but there’s a healthy amount coming off the cat as well.” She squints at Killua. “Did you just get roped in as well?”

Killua nods. While the witch tends to the potion in her pot, he explains everything that’s happened so far. Her eyes narrow as he describes the contract, but she doesn’t speak until he’s finished. 

“May I ask your name, by the way?” Kurapika asks.

She crosses her legs neatly in her chair. “Biscuit. Biscuit Krueger - but you can just call me Bisky. Now onto this contract of yours - “ she points a spatula at Gon and Killua. “What were you thinking? A contract like that would require a massive amount of power. It isn’t something that can be implemented immediately. Gon, right?” she asks, turning her scorching gaze to the frog. “What did he tell you before he activated the contract?” 

Gon shifts uncomfortably. “He told me he could tell my fortune,” he mumbles. 

“And what did he say?”

“I don’t think that’s really important.” Gon moves his weight back and forth, his words full of awkward cheer. “I mean, if it is, that’s different, but - “ 

“You don’t have to say anything, Gon,” Killua says at the same time Bisky cuts in with, “Of course it’s important! Whatever you told him must have helped seal you into the contract!”

Kurapika rises from his seat. “Ms. Bisky, I’m sure Killua has already told you everything that you need to know.”

Bisky folds her arms. “No need for Ms. - just call me Bisky. And the nature of this curse is to be unpredictable, shifting and changing rules based on its contractor’s desire and its victim’s desire. If I don’t know what the Nen user asked of you, I don’t know how exactly to break the curse.” 

She stops, and then says incredulously, “Wait. Killua? As in Killua Zoldyck?”

Killua nods.

“You said the curse was loosely based on a fairy tale,” she says. “Did you two - “

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Killua snaps. Once again, he’s ridiculously glad that he’s stuck as a cat; at least no one can tell how warm his face feels right now. “It was a necessary course of action.”

Bisky taps her fingers on her armrest contemplatively. She opens her mouth, pauses, and then closes it again. “Gon,” she says finally. “I need to know what he told you.” 

All four of them turn to look at Gon, who’s examining the bright pink carpet under his feet like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. It’s not like him to be so hesitant about - well - anything. He always voices his thoughts as they come to mind, uncaring of whether it’s unsuitable for the situation or not. He doesn’t ever stop moving. 

But now he goes still for a moment, his eyes unblinking. Before Bisky can lean forward and wave her hand across his face he snaps back to attention. “Okay. It’s nothing big, really.”

“Then why would you - “

Kurapika slaps his hand over Leorio’s mouth. “Let him speak.” 

“He said I wanted to explore places like my dad and “catch bigger prey” - his words.” Gon attempts to form quotation marks with his front limbs and almost pitches forward onto Killua’s paw. “He said I wanted to be free and get out of Whale Island.”

“And?” Bisky prompts.

“He said I wanted to know what love is,” Gon says. “Apparently, it’s a powerful wish because of how redundant it is. Um, that’s it, I think - you heard everything else from Killua.” 

Bisky folds her legs up to her chest. “Love and freedom, huh?” she muses. “No wonder the curse was able to rebound onto Killua as well. Those are powerful wishes.”

Gon wilts. “Sorry, Killua.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Killua says. “It’s not your fault.”

“It kind of is.”

Killua flicks his tail restlessly. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Let’s just get this over with. We don’t have a lot of time left.”

Bisky looks between the two of them and claps her hands together. “I’ll see what I can do. For now - “ she snaps her fingers and a wooden door across the room slides open, revealing a small bathroom with tiled floors and walls adorned with gaudy wallpapers. “Go wash yourself off, will you? You’re all filthy, and if I watch Gon track mud across my carpet one more time I might go insane.” 

Leorio drags a tub out from under the sink and hauls it into the shower, fumbling with the showerhead until a spurt of steaming water smacks him in the face. “I’m going to fill this smaller tub for you guys,” he splutters, blindly turning towards the source of Gon’s shouting. “You guys can clean off here.” 

“Okay, old man!” Killua shouts, and he and Gon descend into chaos again. 

His shirt is soaked through from the shower. Leorio wrings it out, flapping the wet material against his chest, and pokes his head out of the door. Bisky is hunched over her pot, her hair swept back into a neat bun at the base of her neck. She looks up, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, and turns to look at him. 

“Do you need anything?” she asks. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I was just gonna grab Gon and Killua so they can wash themselves off.”

Bisky nods and wipes her forehead. “You can set them outside the door so the water doesn’t spill on the carpet,” she says. “Then you and your spouse can take the bathroom.”

“Okay, sure - “ Leorio almost drops the tub, the water sloshing over his hands. “Wait. Spouse? ”

The witch tilts her chin at Kurapika, who’s examining the paintings on the wall with no small amount of fascination. “You two, right?”

He sets the tub down before he can tip it over. “We met last night,” he says. He almost jumps when Kurapika turns to look at him curiously. 

Bisky squints at him disbelievingly. “Last night?” she says.

“Yeah…”

She cocks her thumb at the frog and the cat huddled in the corner. “Them too?” 

Leorio nods.

Bisky sighs through her nose and starts stirring her potion aggressively. “Young love,” she mutters. The glare she sends Leorio’s way is scorching and leaves no room for objections. “Anyways, hurry it up. You can’t afford to waste any more time.”

She doesn’t look like she’s going to talk anymore, so Leorio leaves her to her cooking and tosses Gon and Killua into the bath. He shuts the door behind them - Bisky would probably throw a fit if they made a mess, and Leorio didn’t want to be the one to clean it up - and strips himself of his shirt. “I’ll shower first, okay?” he says, tapping Kurapika on the shoulder to get his attention. “Make sure Gon and Killua don’t do anything stupid.” 

Kurapika blinks at his touch and whirls around. One of his hands goes up, as if to shrug Leorio’s hand off his shoulder. He halts abruptly and stares at him. 

“What?” Leorio asks. “My eyes are up here, sunshine.” 

Kurapika flushes slightly and looks up to his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean  - “

“What?” Leorio says. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen top surgery scars before. Is it weird or something?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Kurapika cuts in. “I was - “ he breathes in and rubs at his forehead. “I’m trans too, I wasn’t - I just happened to notice.” 

The angry retort on Leorio’s tongue evaporates into thin air. “Oh,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I thought you were…” 

Kurapika waves him off. “It’s alright,” he says. A small, amused smile plays on his lips. “It’s a natural reaction. Hurry up and go wash up; I don’t want the water cold by the time I get in.” 

By the time Kurapika has finished showering, Leorio and Bisky have started an impromptu karaoke session, the inside of the tree shaking with how loud the microphones are. Killua and Gon are buried under a stack of pillows. The potion in the pot has turned a violent green. 

Kurapika towels off his hair, adjusts his binder under his shirt, and announces: “I hate you all.” 

“Why?” Leorio shouts over the music. “This shit slaps!”

Killua pokes his head through a cushion. “Please never say that again.” 

Bisky tosses Leorio a water bottle and flounces back into her chair, her eyes shiny and excited from singing. “While you all were cleaning up, I did a little bit of research on curses like the one that you ran into.” She nods at Gon, who’s sprawled across the armrest. “Binding someone to a curse inspired off of a story is tricky. Fairy tales are intricate, you know. Plots, characters, conflicts. Even if someone simplified it so that it could be rewritten as a contract, a more basic curse would be much easier to control. That’s why people rarely turn to curses like these.” 

“There has to be a lot of risk involved there,” Leorio observes.

“Only someone out of their minds would use a curse this uncontrollable,” Bisky says. “The wilder the curse, the stranger its side effects. That’s why Killua got dragged in. Nen users that can form contracts keep their restrictions simple so they don’t end up hurting themselves.” 

Killua spreads himself across a pillow, his ears twitching lazily. “We thought there might be two separate powers,” he says. “The needles control one ability, while the talisman controls the curse.” 

“The two Nen abilities are too different, there’s no way one person could use both properly.”

“You’re like - what. Fourteen?” Killua scoffs. “I’m sure there’s plenty you haven’t seen in the world yet. You might know a bit about Nen, but there’s always other possibilities.”

Bisky draws herself to her full height indignantly. “And how old are you?” she snaps.

“Sixteen.” 

“I learned about Nen far before you were even born!” She crosses her arms proudly. “For the famed assassin heir of the Zoldycks, you know far less about the world than I did at your age. It’d be better if you kept your mouth shut.” 

Killua’s mouth drops open. “You’re a hag ?” he asks. “No wonder most of your playlist is so outdated. Have you even heard the new albums these days?”

The witch rises slightly from her seat. “If you weren’t a cat, I would have smacked you through the wall by now.” 

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Killua,” Gon says placatingly. “She probably knows a lot. Let’s just listen, okay?”

“Not a lot about music,” Killua mutters. “Except for a few songs. Keep going, grandma.”

Kurapika has to lay a restraining hand on the girl before she makes a cat-shaped dent in the side of her fireplace. She huffs something furious under her breath - something about kids these days and I could take him with my hands behind my back before she settles back into her seat. 

“As I was saying, curses built on a fairy tale are unpredictable. I’m sure you all have already been able to deduce a little bit - none of you look dumb, at the very least - “ 

“Thanks,” Leorio mumbles. He’s half-buried under a massive throw blanket, his eyelids valiantly trying to stay open. Kurapika flicks him on the forehead.

“The Nen user probably set it as simply as they could,” Bisky says, ignoring his interruption. “The most obvious rules are one, that Gon must kiss someone with royal blood, and two, that this has to be accomplished by midnight the next day. The time limit probably isn’t intentional; they just needed something that adhered to the story.” 

“But it didn’t work with me,” Killua says.

“It didn’t,” Bisky agrees. “So what is it?”

“We thought it might be being recognized as a royal family member,” Kurapika says. “Killua might have been disowned.”

Killua’s eyes narrow with displeasure. “It’s unlikely, considering how obsessed my mom and older brother are with me, but it’s a possibility.”

Bisky shakes her head. “There’s only so much a Nen user could do with the curse. The talisman was probably an extension, a way of controlling it from the outside. Other than that, I think all of the rules of the contract would be dictated by the story. I don’t think the contract would be influenced by political movements within royal families.” 

“What would it be, then?”

The witch cracks a tiny smile. “It’s quite cliche, which makes things all the more infuriating.” She pushes herself out of her chair and cocks her finger at Gon. “Come outside with me for a second, little prince? I have something I need to discuss with you.” 

It’s starting to approach the peak of the afternoon, the air warming and swelling with birdsong. Bisky shuts the door to the rising hum of Leorio and Killua arguing. She holds Gon gently in one hand and jumps up to the top of the tree with a single motion. 

“How did you do that?” Gon says, awed. “You jumped so high!” 

Bisky holds out her free hand. He recognizes the pressure he had felt from Gittarackur, but the force emanating off her hand feels gentler, more fluid. She settles into the crook of a branch and lets him bounce around on the leaves. “You can do a lot of things with Nen,” she says. “It’s all derived from your own aura. How you choose to shape your Nen ability is entirely up to you.” 

“Could I learn?”

“Maybe.”

There’s a stretch of silence before Bisky rouses herself again. Her eyes catch the light of the sun. “It’s love.”

Gon sits down next to her foot. “What?”

“The second part of the curse. It’s love.”

“Love? That’s…” he flounders around for the right word. “That’s really… redundant.”

“It is, isn’t it? It makes it much more complicated, too. Not only does your knight in shining armor have to have royal blood - that already narrows down the pool, although not by a massive amount - you have to love them. Probably romantic love, too, considering the fairy tale.” Bisky props her chin on her hand. “Isn’t it tragic? For such a messy contract, it really doesn’t give you too many options.” 

“That’s not fair, though,” Gon says. His throat is tight with anger. “A curse shouldn’t be able to dictate how you feel for someone. No one should be allowed to do that.” 

Bisky laughs humorlessly. “Sometimes you really make it obvious that you’re a kid,” she says. Her voice is rueful, ironic. “People do it all the time, with or without Nen. That’s why you want to be free, right? Your country is forcing you into the role of a prince.”

“I’m not being forced. I don’t hate it, I just - “ 

“You don’t have to hate something to want something else more.”

“... I just want to see what was so good about the world.”

“Good enough to make the old king leave?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think there’s anything special about the world,” Bisky says. “Every nation is run the same way, essentially. People are predictable.” She gestures at herself. “As long as I wear a cute dress and make my voice high and my eyes wide, nine out of ten times I’ll get the reaction I need. There’s nothing amazing out there.” 

Gon deflates. “Really?”

“Well, you and I are two fundamentally different people,” Bisky says. “I can already tell that much. You could be in the middle of nowhere, with absolutely nothing in sight, and make it interesting somehow. And then you’d get bored and start looking for the next place. If all you’re looking for is space and novelty there’s plenty of that out there.”

“I didn’t ask to have my fortune read again,” Gon jokes. His face falls again. “How am I supposed to get out of this, though? If it’s like that.” 

“If it’s not strictly romantic love, you could ask your aunt,” Bisky says. “Then again, that could be risky. She is the queen, after all, and she doesn’t have any other heirs. Neon Nostrade is your best bet.” She crosses her legs carefully. “Unless there’s someone else.” 

“There’s no one other than Neon, I think… I didn’t talk to a lot of people growing up. It was just Kurapika and I.” 

Bisky clears her throat meaningfully. “Think a little more recently than that.” 

Gon frowns in thought. “After Neon? Um… there was that girl from that other country. I don’t remember her name. Mito was meeting with her about trade or something.” 

“More recently.” 

“There hasn’t really been anyone except Killua and Leorio - “ His face goes slack with realization. “You mean Killua ?” 

“Who else could I mean?” 

“We just met.” 

“You’re friends, though.”

“Of course we are! He’s my best friend!”

Bisky raises her eyebrows. “Really? Even though you’ve only known each other for a few hours?”

“Well, I called Kurapika my best friend a few days after we met,” Gon says. “Although I guess he’s more like an older brother to me, if there’s a difference. Leorio’s really nice, too. But I think Killua’s really my best friend. He’s fun to talk to. But…” 

“But what?” Bisky prompts.

“That’s not romantic,” Gon says helplessly. “At least, I don’t think so.”  

Bisky sticks out her bottom lip in thought. “I think the first thing that comes to mind for a lot of people is marriage,” she says. “It’s a lot more than that, though.” 

“Like what?” 

“Hell if I would know. It’s been a long time since I loved someone like that.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I don’t even remember much anymore.” 

“Even the people you love? Like your friends?”

Bisky smiles ruefully. “Even them. I haven’t forgotten them, of course, but it’s not the same as it was when I was a kid.”

“Maybe loving someone is remembering them,” Gon muses. “Even if it’s been a long time, or you haven’t talked in a while.” 

The witch gives him a curious look. “Maybe.” 

If Gon strains to listen, he can hear the faint thrums of music starting up in the room below them. Leorio must have gotten his hands on Bisky’s music, because a second later his voice blares out of the tree, loud enough that it startles a few birds on the branches. Bisky raises an irritated eyebrow but doesn’t move from her seat. 

“The library in our palace had a lot of books about love,” Gon says. “I don’t know why, but a lot of books have romance in them. I guess a lot of people like that sort of thing. There’d always be this one girl and two guys, and the two guys would have to compete for her or something.”

“The love triangle,” Bisky sighs. “So woefully overdone in heterosexual literature. If you need, I can recommend a few books. There’s a library in the lower levels of the tree.” 

“I can’t exactly read right now, considering I’m a frog.” 

“True.” Bisky flips her hand over and examines her nails. “Either way, don’t use those books as references for love. They’re horrible. They’re probably all written by old white men with weird fantasies in their heads. Actual love shouldn’t be a competition or a one-takes-all sort of situation. You love your aunt, right? You love her, and you love Kurapika. It might not be the same type of love, but you cherish them all the same.” 

“Don’t bother trying to label all of your feelings,” the witch continues. “Sometimes it’s important to know the difference between them. But that’s as far as you’ll ever have to go, in my opinion.” 

“I heard something like that yesterday,” Gon says. “I was talking to a woman. She said the same things; about not competing, or labeling, stuff like that.” 

Bisky’s lips turn up at the corner. “Smart of her.”

“Do all old women just think like that?”

He gets a dangerous glare in response. 

Gon glances up through the leaves and into the sky, where the sun is a bright circle of white in the center of his vision. “The library you mentioned… it’d be nice to come back, if it’s possible.”

“Of course you can.” Her voice is firm, if not warm. She lets Gon hop into her lap. “Just don’t bring that brat with you. I just know he’s itching to call me a hag again.”

“You mean Killua?”

Bisky rolls her eyes. “Who else would it be?”

“What made you… I mean, do you really think we’ll stay together for that long?”

Bisky looks at him quietly. Her forehead is creased with puzzlement. “Do I have any reason to believe otherwise?” she says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You must have realized by now. Haven’t you?” 

He stares back at her, as if she’s going to reveal some grand secret or answer. “You must have realized,” she repeats. 

“Realized what?” he says nervously. “You’re looking at me weird.”

The witch throws her hands in the air. “You’re kidding me, right?” 

Gon searches his memory for anything that might warrant such a reaction and comes up blank. “I really don't know what you’re talking about.”  

Bisky scans his face with an air of absolute incredulity. “Never mind,” she says after a beat. “You’ll have to figure it out sooner or later, though.”

“Figure out what? What am I missing?”

“I can’t tell you,” Bisky snaps. “The part of the curse you’re not getting is love. No one can tell you how you’re supposed to feel or not. You said that yourself.” 

Gon flops backwards onto the branch and stares through the leaves above him, sunlight dimpling across his eyes. “But what if - “ 

The witch flicks him on the top of his head. “There’s no point in asking me anymore,” she sighs. “I’ve already told you more than enough. You’re not dumb. Figure it out.” 

Kurapika waves to Gon as he shuffles back into the room to see Killua and Leorio in a heated argument. He blinks and shakes his head, clearing himself from his daze after his conversation with Bisky. 

“What…” he makes his way up to Kurapika’s arm. “What are they saying?”

A steaming teapot resides on the flowered coffee table next to the couch. Kurapika pours himself a cup and takes a careful sip before answering. “They’ve been at this ever since you left,” he says. “The last thing I understood they were talking about was whether tomatoes are fruits or not.”

“Fruits,” Gon says immediately. “The seeds.”

Kurapika gives him a look of abject betrayal. “You’re siding with Leorio ? I taught you better than this.” 

“So Killua thinks they’re vegetables?”

“Yes,” Kurapika says deliberately, “like a sane, normal person. I can’t believe I’m calling him that.” 

“Kurapika, they’re literally fruit - “

“Explain ketchup to me then. Explain it. Why isn’t there tomato jam? Why is it called ketchup?” 

“There actually is tomato jam - I’ve eaten a few dishes with it, you should try it.” 

Kurapika holds up his hand. “Please don’t do this to me,” he says. “I’ve suffered enough.”

“You two are wrong,” Gon says. “You have to face it.”

“Tell that to Killua’s face.”

Gon opens his mouth, looks across the room, and then closes it. “He’ll come around someday.”

Kurapika just raises an eyebrow. “Anyways, I don’t know what they’ve been arguing about since.” He waves his hand at the two of them. “Leorio said something in his native language and Killua was able to understand him, so they switched to that.” 

“I didn’t know Killua could speak Leorio’s native language,” Gon says admiringly. “They come from different regions, don’t they?”

Kurapika traces a map in the air. “They do. Pretty far away, too.”

“Oi, Gon!” Killua shouts across the room, smoothly switching back to the universal tongue. “What were you talking about? Did you figure out how to break the curse?” 

“I think so,” Gon says. “I have to think about it a little… I think it’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out soon.” 

Killua dodges a swipe from Leorio and jumps up next to Gon. “So are we going back to Neon?”

“Probably. I don’t have any ideas right now, so that’s our best bet.”

Kurapika shifts over to give the frog and cat some space. “The witch said the rules of the contract were cliche,” Killua says. “What’s that supposed to mean? Is it love or something?” He scans Gon’s face and lets out a huff of breath. “You’re joking, right?” 

Gon shrugs helplessly. 

Killua scoffs. “The contract is basically set up for failure from the start. Not only do you have to actually love them - “ his voice drops in temperature. “- which is rare, by the way - they have to be of royal blood. That really doesn’t give you any options at all.” 

“Bisky said it might not necessarily be romantic,” Gon reasons. “And I think Neon’s nice, so it should work out.”

“Nice?” Killua rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that’s enough to love someone.”

He forces the words out sarcastically but they land short of their target, falling to the ground clumsily between the two of them. “I don’t know, either, but I have to try. I dragged you into this,” Gon says. “Don’t worry, okay? I can solve this for the two of us. We’ll be home by midnight.”

Home, Killua mouths, clearly skeptical, and then shakes his head. “I sure hope so. Are we leaving soon? My sisters are probably getting worried.” 

“I could call them and make something up,” Kurapika suggests. “Maybe you stayed behind to spar or something.”

Killua ponders the thought. “If you can make it convincing. By the way - I’ve been thinking. You’re the one directly affected by the curse, so the true love part is probably something you have to carry out. What about me, though?”

“What?” Gon asks. 

“Like is it just when you break it, I get freed? Or would I still be stuck?” 

“I don’t know,” Gon confesses. “Maybe I have to kiss you again to free you? I think that’s the switch for the curse.”

Killua grimaces. “ Another kiss,” he says, drawing out the syllables with childish disgust. “At least you won’t be kissing a slimy frog, Gon.” 

Gon kicks him.  

Across the room, Leorio points an accusing finger and spits something in his native language. It sounds offensive and is clearly insulting enough that Killua’s haunches rise and he shouts something back. Before Gon can ask what they’re arguing about, Killua launches himself off the couch to attack him physically. 

Gon looks on with fascination. “Who do you think is winning?” 

Kurapika looks up from his phone. “In a fistfight? Killua. Verbally? I think Leorio is picking up some steam. It’s impressive.”

“Oh, really,” Gon says. Kurapika turns back to his screen just as a knowing smirk spreads across Gon’s face. Bisky pops her head through the door. 

“Can you all shut up ?” she snaps. “I can’t think over the sound of you two. What are you even arguing about?”

Killua spits out a rapidfire string of sentences. 

Bisky’s face shifts from irritation to horror in the span of a few seconds. “Leorio, you use three-in-one wash?” she whispers. 

Gon and Kurapika gasp in sync. 

“That’s exactly what I was saying!” Killua shouts, puffing his chest out. “You can’t fucking use three-in-one - that shit is nasty and it doesn’t even work, you have to use actual fucking shampoo - “

“Do you know how much space those bottles take up? I could only really take one briefcase, you know!”

“At least get a bar of soap for your body and then proper shampoo and condition,” Killua says. “I can’t take this. I really can’t.”

“Why would you need soap if you can just use this?” Leorio asks. He pulls a small, round bottle from his briefcase. “Five-in-one. It’s convenient.”

The room erupts into noise. 

“ Five ?” 

“And here I thought you were a decent person, Leorio - “

Bisky marches across the threshold and grabs Leorio by the collar. “That’s it,” she says. “You’re not allowed inside until you clean yourself off properly.”

The door slams close to Leorio’s noises of protest. Kurapika exchanges a look with the two animals sitting by his feet and lets out a sigh. 

“That was disappointing.”

“Hm,” Killua agrees. “I’m sure you can change him.” 

Kurapika casts a glance towards Gon pleadingly.
“You got this, Kurapika!” Gon says cheerfully, like the little shit he is. 

Killua flops gracelessly into Kurapika’s lap. “You should probably check on them before Bisky scrubs the hair right off of Leorio’s head. At least, from what Leorio’s yelling, that’s what it sounds like she’s about to do.” 

Kurapika looks down at the white cat on his legs, who flicks his tail lazily across Kurapika’s nose. “Hurry up,” Killua says. His current form doesn’t have any eyebrows to raise, but his tone conveys that sentiment exactly. “I don’t think the old hag could bear to lose any more hair.” 

“Which old hag?” Kurapika says warily. 

Killua gives him a shit-eating grin and rolls back onto the couch. “Both of them.” 

“You shouldn’t be that rude, Killua,” Gon scolds, but his stern words are punctuated with giggles. “Bisky’s doing her best to help us.” 

Killua blinks uncaringly. “Sure, sure,” he says. “Let’s just hurry up and get back so we can get this over with. I don’t want my sisters to worry.” 

A crestfallen expression flits across Gon’s face quickly before his signature smile is back in full beam. “It’s probably around lunchtime now, so we should really get moving,” Gon says. “Kurapika, why don’t you go and rescue him before he really does go bald? I’m sure Leorio will appreciate it a lot,” Killua suggests. He and Gon flash identical toothy smirks. 

Kurapika puts his head in his hands and lets himself wallow in self pity for a few moments. When he’d asked Killua to come to the ball, he hadn’t expected this to happen; a fairy tale curse, a journey all the way across the island, and his two closest friends teaming up to shit on him. Meeting Leorio, too, had been entirely unexpected. 

He doesn’t hate it at all. 

“I’ll go see if I can help,” Kurapika decides, getting up from his seat. “You two stay put. I’ve seen Gon get too close to that pot one too many times.

“It feels nice! It’s so warm and steamy.”

Killua smacks him over the head. “We’ll see how warm and steamy it is once you fall in!” 

“Then I'll just get in right now! Let’s see you try to stop me.”

“Do you want to die?” 

Kurapika pokes his head out the door, where Bisky is giving a furious lecture to Leorio about different hair care products. The tree is warm and rough against his hand, slightly sticky from old sap and knobbled with age. It’s a lot like the trees he’d see in the Lukso Province, around his old home - worn and bowed by weather and draping overhead like an umbrella, keeping out the harsh light of the sun. Gon had explored a lot of the island when he was a kid, often sneaking out while his aunt was busy to wander through the forests and swamps. Kurapika had helped him sneak out on a few occasions, but he’d never accompanied him much further than the woods around the palace. He may have abandoned his reckless desire for seeking out the Phantom Troupe, but the residual fury from a few years ago still lingers sometimes. He watches Leorio tear himself out of Bisky’s headlock and nearly fall off the edge of the tree. 

“Hey, Kurapika!” Leorio shouts, precariously bracing himself against a net of branches. “Are we leaving now?”

Kurapika snaps back to attention. “It’s in our best interests to head back as soon as possible.” He turns to the witch. “Bisky, do you have any more advice for those two that might help?”

Bisky snaps her fingers and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner disappear from her hand. “Not particularly. They just need to think through a few things. Gon, especially, because he’s the one bearing the brunt of the curse.”

Kurapika frowns. “Think through what?”

“Everything I told him.” Bisky waves a dismissive hand. “Come on, now, don’t look at me like that. I know you think I’m putting on an act.”

“I wasn’t - “

“It’s imperative that he understands the weight of the curse himself,” she says firmly. “I don’t have the ability to lift the Nen ability on him, nor do I have the time to seek out someone with that skill. The only way he can turn back to normal is by following the rules of the contract.” 

“You could at least give him some hints, then.”

Bisky shrugs. “I did. He can piece it together from there. I believe in him.” 

“That’s surprising,” Kurapika says, “considering you just met him.” 

The witch gives him an unimpressed look. “I mean, look at the way he and Killua look at each other,” she says, a scoff buried under her tone. “That’s all you need to know.”

“You mean - “ Kurapika blinks and then flushes. “ That’s what you mean?”

“Why are you stuttering?” Bisky says. “It wasn’t obvious?”

“No, it was, I just didn’t expect that to be it. It seems too easy.” 

“Not for them.” 

“They’re both idiots.”

“They are,” Bisky agrees. “It’s infuriating. How do you put up with them?” 

Kurapika flips his hands up uselessly. 

Bisky lets out an amused breath and shakes her head. “You need to go now, right?” She turns to Leorio and smacks him on the back so hard his glasses fly off his face. “Good luck with breaking the curse. I better not see the two of them as animals when you visit again.” 

Kurapika smiles slightly and crouches to pick up Leorio’s glasses. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, dusting the lenses off. “They’ll figure it out. They always have.”

The second day of the ball opens the floor to a larger crowd. Noblemen in the lower courts, royal families from other countries, and other guests would be allowed to attend. People would be moving into the palace on the roads starting from noon, filling the towns around the capital with cars and buses. Even with Whale Island’s well regulated travel system, the traffic surrounding the city was abysmal. 

“At this point, it’d probably be dangerous for us to walk back,” Leorio says, examining the network of streets around the palace. “We could take a boat. That might rouse less attention.” 

Kurapika frowns. “The swamps are pretty far from the docks, though. Besides, are there any boats going to the palace tonight?”

“There might be one bringing in seafood,” Gon suggests. “It’ll go around the back and into the kitchen.” 

“That’s perfect. Where do those boats come from?”

“There’s a dock by Snakebeech Forest that produces a lot of the island’s seafood. It’s pretty far away from the center of the capital, so they usually have boats coming in and out of that area. We can sneak a ride if we’re careful enough.” Leorio taps a point on the coast. “I went down there for an internship once.” 

“How long will it take us to get there?” Killua asks.

“If we run? Two hours.” Kurapika scoops Killua under one arm. “Leorio, how’s your stamina?”

“Not horrible,” Leorio says. “I ran for a few of those blood drive donations last month. What about you?” 

“I’ve had to chase after Gon my entire life,” Kurapika says wryly. “That was more than enough exercise for me.”

Gon bounces onto Leorio’s shoulder. “It can’t have been that hard.” 

Kurapika cocks an unimpressed eyebrow. “Do you know how many times I had to climb those cliffs by the coast looking for you? How did you even end up in all those random caves?” 

“I climbed the trees sticking out of the rocks!” Gon says cheerfully. 

Kurapika looks nauseous at the idea. “You could have fallen into the ocean if you stepped wrong.” 

“But I didn’t!” 

“You’re crazy,” Killua decides. “I wanna try scaling those cliffs someday. I bet I can climb faster.” 

Gon puffs his chest out. “Is that a challenge?” 

“It better not be, unless you both want to die.” Leorio adjusts his suit lapels restlessly. “Do you two want to catch that boat or not? We’ve already wasted enough time.”

After a bit of wrestling, Kurapika manages to get Killua into a comfortable position and they start plotting their course through the swamp. The air is cloying and humid, worming into the creases of Leorio and Kurapika’s suits. The mosquitos hovering around the muddy ground become too much for even Gon to handle. After a few minutes of travel Leorio drops Gon into his pocket and keeps running. 

“It’d be embarrassing if you got tied up in your own tongue,” Leorio says, firmly pressing down on Gon’s head when he tries to re-emerge. “You can practice catching mosquitos later.” 

“I’d love to see that,” Killua says gleefully.

“You’re just as bad.” Leorio wipes at his forehead with a heavy hand and squints at the foliage in front of him. “Anyways, do any of you have plans on what we’re going to do once we’re in the palace? The guards will probably be on the lookout for a frog and cat now, thanks to the fake prince or whatever.” 

“The Nen user might have convinced the royal court that I’m a traitor, too,” Kurapika says. ‘Considering that I disappeared last night without a trace, I don’t think I could sneak back into the party like usual. They’ll be suspicious of me.” 

“I think I might have an idea, actually,” Killua says. “Gon. You said that Nen user - Gittarackur - had a talisman, right?” 

Gon bobs his head. “He wanted to put some of my blood in it for his fortune telling.” 

“It’s probably related to the curse. I haven’t heard too much about talismans - no sane assassin uses them often - but collecting blood in the talisman could be one of the requirements to activate the contract.”

“Maybe it’s for the transformation,” Kurapika suggests, catching on quickly. “The DNA in Gon’s blood acts as a blueprint.” 

“Right,” Killua says. “However, because he originally intended to keep Gon with him, that means that he still needs Gon’s blood. That’s foiled now because Gon escaped. I bet the blood has a limited amount of potency - when Gittarrackur’s talisman runs empty, something will change. That’s the best opportunity for us.” He makes a face. “The only problem is we don’t know when or what will happen.” 

“I could go into the ballroom!” Gon says. “Once he sees me, he’ll definitely want to chase me down. I’ll try to grab the talisman and see what it does.” 

“Are you stupid?” Killua snaps. “That could get you killed! As long as he’s disguised as you, he can do anything he wants and you won’t be able to say anything back.” 

Gon blinks, momentarily taken aback by his harsh tone. “It can’t be that bad,” he says. “Like you said, he probably still needs me around for the transformation.”

Kurapika’s hold around Killua tightens before he can worm out of his grasp. “That’s exactly the problem!” Killua says. “Why would he keep you if he wasn’t planning something long-term? Whatever it is, we can foil that plan as long as we keep you out of his hands. Charging in blindly will only get all of us in trouble.” 

The bite behind his words is half irritation, half worry. Gon’s idea does have some logical merit; drawing out the enemy would give them more insight on their situation. Somehow, though, the thought of losing Gon is almost unthinkable. It’s just as excruciating as his worry over Nanika and Alluka or his fear of his family finding them. He curses under his breath and shakes his head sharply. 

“Let’s just refrain from doing something stupid, okay?” Killua says. “All we need to do is get you to Neon Nostrade as soon as possible. We can figure out the details as we go.”

Gon looks unconvinced but concedes quietly and ducks his head back into Leorio’s pocket. “What about you, Killua?” he asks. “You should talk to your sisters and make sure they’re alright.” 

Kurapika gestures to his chest pocket. “I’ve already texted Alluka.” 

“Any response?” 

“Not yet. She might be busy.” 

Killua narrows his eyes. “She isn’t usually this late responding to messages.” 

“She might be out,” Kurapika reasons. “You told her to silence notifications from us if she left the house to go into the public markets. And if anything goes wrong, Nanika will be able to protect - wait.” 

Killua looks up sharply. “What is it?” 

“ Nanika, ” Kurapika says. “Couldn’t you ask her to break the curse?”

Gon’s head pokes out of Leorio’s suit again. “What?” he says, curious, at the same time Killua shakes his head violently. 

“I’ve already considered it, but there’s too many unknown variables,” Killua says. “Like Bisky said, story-based contracts are fickle. It could do more harm than good to get Nanika involved. Besides, I promised her and Alluka I wouldn’t use Nanika’s power anymore.” 

“What power?” Leorio asks. 

“It’s nothing,” Killua says tersely. “Hold on - I think we’re almost there. The ground’s starting to even out.” 

The oppressive ceiling of trees starts to thin out as they leave the swamp. Kurapika raises a hand to shade his eyes from the sun, which is starting to dip down towards the horizon. The sky has darkened several shades at the corners. “That was faster than I’d thought.” 

Leorio stumbles out after him, removing his glasses so he can wipe sweat off his face. “That’s because you’re a damn fast runner,” he pants. “I could barely keep up.” 

Killua gives him a toothy smile. “You’re not bad,” he says. “For an old man, I mean.” 

Before Leorio can respond, Kurapika stiffens and motions at them to stop talking. Sailors, he mouths. Faintly, Killua can hear a set of footsteps shuffling across the cracked earth. 

How many? Leorio asks. 

Kurapika exchanges a glance with the cat under his arm. Killua says three. Probably just getting ready to set sail. Get behind a tree. 

The sailors’ footsteps are heavy and uneven and the thick scent of alcohol blows downwind to them. Killua wrinkles his nose at the smell; that level of intoxication would only be debilitating to the sailors once they boarded the ship. 

Fortunately, that was exactly what Killua needed. He tugs on Kurapika’s sleeve to get his attention. 

What? 

Let’s just sneak around them. They’re drunk.

Kurapika furrows his eyebrows. Not enough. They’ll spot Leorio. 

They won’t spot you or me though, Killua mouths. Or Gon. Leorio is just a normal citizen. They’re not gonna care about him. 

Leorio shuffles closer to them. “Hey,” he whispers, his eyes darting nervously to the sailors standing several meters away. “So what’s the plan?”

“Ideally, we want to get to the boat without being seen. We’ll sneak around those three and catch a ride in the storage compartment.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in your tone.” 

“But we have a problem - a 193 centimeter tall problem, if we want to be specific,” Killua says. “You’re too loud, old man.” 

Leorio’s eyebrows pinch together like he’s about to yell. He deflates when he realizes where they are again and wrestles his voice down to an angry whisper. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? And wait - how do you even know how tall I am?” 

“Don’t question it,” Gon pipes up.

Kurapika nods approvingly. “You’re catching on.” 

Judging by the way Leorio shakes his fist at him, Killua can tell his smirk is infuriating even on a cat’s face. “Anyways, what I’m worried about is the suits,” he says. “Kurapika knows how to move quietly and avoid attention, but if either of you two get spotted, they’re going to have questions.” Killua nods at the leaves and dirt flecking their sleeves. “No one dressed up formally will be getting on a delivery boat. And if they catch sight of me or Gon, then it’s over. I don’t doubt that that Nen user has spread the news all over Whale Island, just judging by the amount of guards that were sent out into the city last night.” 

“What’s the plan, then?” Gon whispers. 

“We’ll need a distraction. I was thinking I could knock them out, but - “ 

“No,” Leorio says immediately.

Killua rolls his eyes. “It’s not going to be fatal. They just need to be unconscious.”

“What happens if they’re still out by the time the boat leaves, though? Wouldn’t that be suspicious?”

Kurapika shakes his head. “No, Killua has a point. They’re already drunk out of their minds, so it’d be reasonable to assume that they just drank too much and forgot to get on board.” He cranes his neck slightly to peer around the tree. “I could do it.” 

Leorio bites his lip, clearly reluctant. “Gon?” he asks. 

The frog in his pocket waves a front leg around dismissively. “They won’t die.” 

Kurapika makes quick work of the three sailors, instantaneously knocking them out with a neat blow to the neck. “They’ll be a little sore, but nothing dangerous,” he reassures. He motions to Leorio to help him drag them under a tree. “How long do we have until the boat leaves?”

Gon squints at the dock several meters away from them, where the boat bobs peacefully on the water. “Looks like they’re still loading some things on.”

“Maybe we can get Gon and I in one of the crates and then you two sneak on from the other side.” 

“How are we supposed to get on?” Leorio says doubtfully. “There’s only one dock.”

Gon and Killua exchange looks. “The sailors are still unconscious,” Gon says. 

Leorio adjusts his glasses and squints down at the frog. “Yeah, they are,” he says. “And?” 

Gon gives him an innocent look. “The blonde one looks pretty tall. His outerwear could fit you.”  

Leorio glances at the three men snoring peacefully under the tree. One of them is much taller than the other two, his limbs sprawled clumsily across the ground. “That’s true,” Leorio says. “But I don’t see how - “ 

He pauses, looks at Gon, and then back at the sailors. “Wait. You don’t mean..?“ 

Kurapika kicks Leorio in the shin swiftly, effectively cutting off his protests. “Hurry it up,” he says under his breath. “Those three will wake up soon.” 

Killua snickers silently at Leorio’s grumbling. “Anyways, Gon and I will find a crate to board in,” he says, sobering when Kurapika shoots him a look. “You two put on their clothes and get on the dock. There’ll probably be a storage room below-deck, right? We’ll meet there.”

Kurapika approaches one of the shorter sailors and wrinkles his nose as he strips off the man’s jacket. “They reek of alcohol,” he says with disgust. 

“That’s good for authenticity. It’d be weird if you two didn’t smell at all.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much, Killua.” 

“I wish I had my phone,” Killua laments. “Alluka would have killed to see you like this.” 

With a surprising amount of dignity, Kurapika pulls a large, cotton shirt over his head. It almost goes down to his knees, effectively hiding his clothes underneath. He runs a hand through his hair, mussing up the ends until strands stick out in different directions. He cocks a thumb at the other sailors. “You too, Leorio.” 

Once they’re both dressed in oversized, holey uniforms, they hide their shoes in a bush and take the sailors’ straw hats.  The sun’s light is starting to die, which casts shadows across their face and blurs their features. Leorio holds out the collar of his shirt and picks at it unhappily.
“So?” he says. “What now?” 

“You could hide us in your shirts,” Gon says. His eyes are still trained on the movement of the people on the docks, flickering whenever a shadow shifts in the growing darkness. “Once you get us to the crates, you put us in one of them and bring us onto the boat.” 

“That’d work with you,” Leorio says. “You’d be easy to sneak in. But what about Killua? He’s a lot bigger.” 

“Don’t worry about me, old man. I’m not nearly as clumsy as you.” 

“But - “ 

“Are you worrying about me?” Killua says, his voice sharpening with mischief. “Seriously, it’s going to be fine. I started stealth training the second I could walk. Being a cat isn’t that much different, honestly.” 

Kurapika doesn’t look impressed. “Of course he’s worried,” he says, exasperated. “Don’t get caught.” 

Before Killua can respond - Kurapika’s rare shows of concern are still surprising, in a way - Gon steps in front of him. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, what with being a frog and all that, but he looks uncharacteristically serious. 

“Killua,” Gon says. “Stay safe.” 

The situation’s kind of laughable. Gon’s the one who’s been struck by the curse and he’s the one who’s concerned about Killua, a Zoldyck assassin. A nervous laugh gets stuck halfway up Killua’s throat and he swallows the sound down, opting to give him a short nod. 

“Don’t worry about me, idiot,” he scoffs. “You’re the one that has to break the curse, okay? Get on safely.” 

Gon gives him a tentative smile. “Right. See you then, Killua.” 

Killua’s not sure why the other three are worried for him. Besides the idea of sneaking into a crate and catching a ride onto the boat, he can think of several other ways to get on without being noticed. He clambers into a box full of vegetables - it’d probably be safer for him and the guests at the party if he didn’t get in one full of fish - and peeks out quickly to check on Kurapika and Leorio. Leorio’s foul mouth fits in perfectly with the rest of the sailors, effectively shielding Kurapika and the frog in his pocket from attention. Killua makes himself comfortable under a pile of carrots and waits for a sailor to stumble over and haul him onto the boat. 

He should have left earlier. If he had wanted to, he could have left long ago and headed back for his sisters and avoided all this mess. Alluka and Nanika would have let him turn himself back, they’d pack their bags, and move for the next city. With their help and his connections he would have been nothing but a white-haired ghost in the prince’s memory. It would have been better that way. He peeks through the cracks in the crate, crinkling his nose at the smell of cheap alcohol and seafood. If he really wanted to, he could escape now. He’d gone on missions a thousand times harder in a handicapped state. 

To be fair, though, he wasn’t a cat during those jobs. He lets out a silent sigh and pushes a stalk of celery away from his ears. 

The faint angle of the sun’s light fades away as Killua’s picked up and moved into the storage of the ship. The person carrying him is tired, evidently; their footsteps are heavy and unwilling, stumbling slightly as they toss the crate into a dark storage room. Killua allows himself a beat before he carefully unlodges the crate’s lid, deftly jumping out and clambering down to the ground. He looks around and waits another moment.

“Gon?” he whispers. He strains his ears. “Gon, are you there?” 

From across the room he hears a small noise, products shifting aside as Gon makes his way out of his crate. Killua winces when the lid falls open with a muted thump. 

“Sorry,” Gon whispers loudly.

“Never mind that,” Killua says. “How did you push that thing open all by yourself?”

Gon nudges the wooden lid with his toe. “Oh, this? I don’t know. Aunt Mito always said I was stronger than most kids.” 

Killua squints at him. “You’re really weird.”

“Says the child assassin. With white hair. You know, for all the shit that you give Leorio, your hair went white even before him.”

“That is the most insulting thing you could ever say about me,” Killua says. 

Gon shrugs. “It’s true.” 

“I don’t look that old, do I? I’ll never hear the end of it from that old man if I do.” 

“No, it’s nice!” Gon says quickly. “It looked cool, at least when I saw you. Like your hair looked like it was glowing and it was all bright and silvery. And your hair was really long," Gon says, gesturing with his hands. "Well - maybe not that long, but still in a ponytail and stuff."

Killua nods. "I was due to cut it, actually. It was starting to go past my shoulders."

"What?" Gon says. He hurriedly lowers his tone. "But it looked nice! Really!"

Kilua shoves him over. "Shut up, idiot," he says half-heartedly. "It's too dangerous to grow it out for too long. If I was smart, I'd cut it off entirely." 

Gon picks himself up off the floor. "But why?"

"You know why." Killua gives him an exasperated look. "My dad, right? Long, white hair. That's the only part of his features that's shared with the royal families before they hire him for missions; it's like his trademark. He told me to start growing out my hair a few years ago, sort of as a tradition for when I became the head of the family." 

"So how long did it get?" 

"The longest it ever got was below my shoulder blades. But my hair's a lot messier than his, so we had to cut it all down again." Killua grimaces slightly. "I know my dad wasn't happy with it, but it's better than looking like him." 

His voice is bitter and vindictive. "What's he like?" Gon asks.

"Him? I'm sure you've heard horror stories about him - the white-haired ghost of Kukuroo Mountain, Silva Zoldyck." Killua bites out the name like a rotting thing in his mouth. "I look exactly like him. The same blue eyes and everything. The instant I was born, they made me heir just because of how I looked." he scoffs and shakes his head. "They were right, unfortunately for me. So my family did everything they could to make me even more like my dad. They made me do a lot of weight training, lifting, all that stuff." 

The ship sways gently under their feet. Killua shifts his weight to keep his balance. "When Alluka and I escaped, I wanted to cut as much of my hair off as I could. Better for hiding and better for..." he glances up at the air, searching for the right words. "Better for just being less like my family, I guess." 

"It started getting long again once I started working and everything, but this time I didn't cut all of it off. Alluka likes it when my hair's longer - she doesn't say so, but I know she really likes using all her hair clips and beads. Plus, she finds it funny when my hair gets all tangled and I can't get anything out." Killua rolls his eyes, but there's a laugh buried under his words. "And honestly? At this point, I could give less fucks about what I look like to my family. I'm finally growing my hair out, but not so I can look like the Zoldyck heir. I know my mom would throw a fit if she saw what I looked like now."

"As a cat?" Gon teases.

Killua rolls his eyes again. "It feels nice though, you know?" he continues, softer. "Sometimes it's still weird seeing myself in the mirror with a hairstyle I would have detested just a few months ago, but then I turn around and see one of Alluka's pom-poms hanging off the side and it's just - " he shakes his head and lets out a bright laugh. "It feels like a massive fuck you to my family, which is pretty satisfying." 

He turns to catch Gon staring at him with an odd, open look in his eyes, like he’s come to some miraculous revelation. “Gon?” he says cautiously. “Hey, Gon. You’re spacing out.” 

“Sorry,” Gon says, snapping back to attention. “Hey, Killua?” 

“What?” 

“I’m glad you came with me.” 

Killua startles. “Idiot,” he says scornfully, but there’s no real venom in his voice. “Where did that come from?” 

“Nowhere! I just felt like saying it.” 

“You’re - “ Killua shakes his head and sighs. “You’re really fucking weird. Anyways, do you know where Leorio and Kurapika are?” 

“They’re probably on the deck - they were supposed to help with getting everything ready. I hope Leorio doesn’t get hurt.” 

Killua cracks a small smile. “Knowing the old man, he’s going to slip and split his own skull wide open.” 

“Probably,” Gon agrees. “Kurapika can handle him.” 

“You’re right.” Killua squints at the stacks of crates surrounding them on all sides. “While we’re waiting for them to get back in here - hopefully alive - what do you say about seeing just what’s in here? Whoever guesses the dish that they’re gonna make for the banquet first wins.”

Gon’s eyes narrow. “You’re going down so bad,” he says. “No one knows Whale Island cuisine better than I do. What’s the prize?”

Killua’s smile widens until it almost hurts his cheeks. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed this much - maybe while baking with Alluka, but even then their joy had been soiled by worry, their giggles puttering out into furtive glances around their surroundings to make sure no one had heard them. But now he almost stumbles over himself, rendered clumsy and awkward and breathless under Gon’s bright gaze.

This, he thinks, is why he decided to stay. 

“Loser has to cook dinner,” Killua says. “And they have to eat last. And clean the dishes.” 

Gon’s smile widens, giddy with excitement. “You’re on.” 

Despite Gon’s inhuman strength, his amphibious limbs are simply unequipped for lifting heavy lids. Gleefully, Killua skims his way through the crates, deliberately closing the boxes when he’s done. Before Gon can even get a good look in a few of the crates Killua jumps to the ground with a triumphant shout. 

“Rokarian seafood specialty,” Killua says proudly. “I tried some the last time my family was in the Republic of Hass.” 

Gon flops gracelessly on top of one of the boxes. “Fuck.” 

“You shouldn’t have agreed to this.” 

“That isn’t even fair! If you had just let me look in the crates - “ 

“I’m not that nice,” Killua teases. “Besides, like you said, you know your cuisine better. I had to hurry.” 

Gon lets out a long sigh. “I’m not the best cook.”

“Just put a whole bunch of sugar on it,” Killua says airily. “You can’t go wrong if it’s sweet.” 

Gon rolls over and gives him a look of abject horror. “Sugar on a savory dish? How would that taste good?”

“That’s for you to figure out, not me.” 

Before Gon can reply, there’s a knock on the storage door. They both stiffen at the same time, ready to bolt into the shadows if needed. 

The door creaks open slightly, light spilling out onto the floor, before it shuts just as fast. “Hey,” Kurapika says, his voice quiet under the sound of the sea crashing against the boat. “We’re back.” 

Gon sighs a breath of relief. 

“Did you knock to warn us?” Killua says, rolling to his feet. 

Kurapika nods. “It was also partly for our benefit,” he says. He points at himself and Leorio. “If we caught you by surprise, you might have clawed our faces off. And Leorio’s already loud enough as it is.” 

“I’m being perfectly quiet!” Leorio protests. “Besides, no one can hear us over the water.” 

“It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

“Anyways,” Gon says, diverting their attention away from the growing indignation in Leorio’s eyes, ‘What’s the plan once we get into the palace? What are you three going to do?” 

“I can help you get to Lady Nostrade,” Kurapika says. “Killua, you stay with us in case we need to rethink the contract again. 

“Rethink what - the part about love?” Killua says dubiously. “Why would I need to be there for that?” 

Gon stares up at the ceiling pointedly. 

Kurapika coughs delicately. “You were afflicted with the curse as well, so it might be good to have another pair of eyes.” 

Killua gives Kurapika a questioning look but doesn’t press the point. “Hold on a second,” he says suddenly. “What’s Leorio doing with us?”
Leorio stiffens like a cat. “D’you have a problem with me being here?”

“Calm down, old man. Someone’s going to hear you. Don’t you remember what you said?” 

“Remember what?” 

“Three hundred million Jenny to get us to Bisky,” Killua says. “You don’t have an obligation to stick with us. You could sell us out right now, if you really wanted to. Technically, you already fulfilled your end of the bargain.” 

Kurapika shoots him a harsh look. “ Killua. ”

“‘M just saying.” Killua shrugs, the movement all too casual under the weight of his words. “Gon? What do you think?” 

“I don’t think he’d do that,” Gon says slowly. He doesn’t miss the way Killua and Leorio’s eyes both widen in surprise at his response. “I don’t think he’d sell us out just because he’s gotten his money already. He’s not that type of person.” 

“Well - “ Leorio splutters and searches the air for the right words. “It’s not that, okay? It’s just a lot of money and we found the witch easily, so I might as well just stay for a little longer. But that’s it!” he says hurriedly. His rushed admission does nothing to abate the amused smile on Kurapika’s face. “It’s only because you’re the prince and all that - it’s nothing more than that! Seriously…” 

Killua’s careful, caustic expression relaxes into a satisfied grin. “You don’t have to work yourself up like that, old man. I’m not worried.” He turns over onto his back. “If I’d actually suspected you, you’d be dead by now.” 

Leorio looks nervously at Kurapika. “Is he serious?”

“His tone?” Kurapika replies. “Joking. The threat? Probably genuine.” 

Leorio swallows. “That’s reassuring.” 

Kurapika nods his head sympathetically. “Our biggest problem, other than getting into the palace, is getting in touch with Lady Nostrade,” he says. “She’ll probably have multiple maids around her, not to mention guards positioned at every angle. Trying to convince her that her fiance is a frog and that she has to kiss it - “ Kurapika’s lips twist downwards. “That’s not going to be easy.” 

“ Fiance ,” Gon repeats under his breath. The word doesn’t sit right on his tongue. It feels too old, too restricting of a title. “She’s staying in one of the palace rooms,” he says, louder so that the other three can hear him. “We could go in there and wait for her.” 

“Go in a lady's room?” Leorio says, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “I mean, we could, but - “

Kurapika reaches up and smacks him on the back of his head. “What are you so excited for? It’s not like you’re going to be meeting with her.” 

Leorio rubs his neck. “That so?” he says, visibly disappointed. “What can I do, then?” 

“We’ll only need you to help us get into the palace, probably,” Kurapika says. “You don’t have to go further than that.” 

Killua makes a noise of agreement. “It’s safer for all of us if you don’t get caught. Besides - “

“Besides what?” Gon asks.

Killua pauses. His eyes flicker to Kurapika’s briefly, their gaze meeting for a second. “Nothing,” he says finally. “It’s not important right now.” 

“Right now - “ Gon frowns. “Hold on. What happens if Kurapika gets caught?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Killua says. “A high ranking official betraying the family they’ve sworn loyalty to is messy under the best circumstances. But now we’ve got this curse - “ he lifts up on paw for emphasis. “- and a fake prince. If Kurapika got caught, we’d have no way to get around and the scandals would end up fucking everything up.” He hesitates. “It also means there’d be no one to tell my sisters what’s happened.” 

Gon’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest. “Is that what you wanted Leorio to do?”

Killua stares firmly at a point away from Gon’s head before nodding reluctantly. 

Kurapika picks up the white cat and gives him a vigorous head pat, yanking his hand away before Killua can bite him. “I won’t get caught,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“I’m not worrying about you, idiot,” Killua says. His jab at Kurapika’s hand is half-hearted at best. “I’m worried about Alluka and Nanika. I couldn’t give a shit about you.” 

“You wound me,” Kurapika says flatly. The side of his mouth twitches. 

Killua sticks his tongue out at him. “Anyways, if I remember correctly, my phone’s still on that balcony. The chances that the royal guards have confiscated it are high, but considering that it was in Kurapika’s room - “ he pauses, his eyes widening. “Ooh, that does not look good for you.” 

Kurapika crosses his arms. “We’ve established that,” he says dryly. 

“Right. I was going to say that they might leave it alone because it was in Kurapika’s room, but I think that’s the opposite now. I don’t think that fake prince of ours cares very much about Kurapika’s standing in the kingdom, either.”

“How are you going to reach your sisters, then?”

Killua tilts his head in Kurapika’s direction. “He still has his phone, so we can text Alluka through that. Cool it,” he continues, picking up on Leorio’s worry. “I don’t think anything is going to happen - Kurapika’s usually more trustworthy than that.”

“Usually?”

“Usually, yeah. Anyways, I think Kurapika and I should focus on getting Gon to Neon Nostrade safely. Leorio, do you have a phone?”

Leorio rummages behind a pile of boxes and pulls out his briefcase, giving it a smart tap to get the dust off of it. “I’ve got one in here.” 

Kurapika pulls out his phone from his pants pocket, evidently catching on to Killua’s line of thought. “Are we exchanging phones?”

“That would be ideal, although it’s up to you,” Killua says. “I know you value your privacy and - “ 

Kurapika tosses his phone in an arc to Leorio, who almost fumbles and drops it. “Password is 069420,” he says. He rolls his eyes. “Alluka set it as that a few months ago.”

Gon’s mouth falls open. He turns to meet Killua’s gaze, who looks just as baffled. “That easily?” he whispers. 

Killua shakes his head in disbelief. “It took even Alluka a few weeks to get that out of him,” he says. “And that was after he helped us find a house.” 

Leorio unlocks the phone and opens up the messaging app. “Alluka, Alluka…” he mumbles, checking the contacts. “I don’t see any name like that.” 

“Oh, that’s because her number is behind another password,” Kurapika says. “Give that back to me, I’ll unlock it.” 

Killua exhales in relief. “At least they’re not moving that fast. Had me worried for a second.” 

“Is it bad to move too fast?”

“Well - “ Killua looks surprised by the question. “I mean… it probably can be. You don’t know enough about them to trust them, I guess.

Gon looks at him quickly. “But what if you already trust them?”

Killua shrugs. “Hell if I know. I was always taught to never trust anyone, so I have no idea. As long as you’re happy with them, I guess.” He gives him a curious look. “Where’d that come from?” 

Gon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” As long as you’re happy with them, he thinks to himself. “Just wondering.” 

He doesn’t register that Killua’s bumped him playfully until he feels the lingering touch. “Just focus on getting through this shit show,” Killua says. “Alright, Gon?” 

Gon glances across the room to where Kurapika’s showing Leorio his texts; his shoulder jostles against Leorio’s arm, but neither of them try to move any further apart. Under any other circumstance Gon would waste no time in jumping in and teasing them, but he’s in the same metaphorical boat as them. He’s not entirely sure what the choked feeling in his throat is - like cotton candy under his tongue, soft and light and molten - but he has a little more time before they arrive at the palace to figure it out.

And with Killua by his side, he thinks he could do just about anything at all. 

“Alright,” Gon says. Something warm settles into the space between his lungs and ribs and makes itself comfortable. As long as you’re happy. As long as you trust them. “You got it, Killua.” 

The boat makes a couple of stops along Whale Island’s vast coastline to pick up other supplies, so Killua and Gon spend the rest of the ride making wilder guesses on what dishes the banquet is planning to serve. After three stops Killua starts rattling off the names of Padokean dishes, which no one other than Kurapika has ever heard of. Halfway through his twenty-minute recitation of a typical Zoldyck dinner, Leorio’s eyebrow starts twitching. It takes them another few minutes to convince Leorio that taking his shoes off and throwing them at Killua isn’t worth it.
“He’s not trying to rile you up,” Gon says placatingly, but Killua’s gleeful grin as he sings out increasingly unrealistic ingredient names says otherwise. “He’s just talking about Padokean cuisine, I guess.” 

“I’m absolutely trying to annoy him,” Killua says, to no one’s surprise. He pushes open a crate, the lid falling onto Leorio’s foot. Leorio’s subsequent curse is several octaves higher than his usual range. “Hey, old man, you know that dessert I mentioned? The pastry with frosting and fruit filling?”

“You mentioned way too fucking many for me to keep track,” Leorio snaps. He reaches down to massage his injured foot gingerly. “What even is it? Some sort of delicacy reserved for the esteemed Zoldyck family?”

“It was just a poptart,” Killua says airily. “You know, the snacks you get at street side stalls and shit. But I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of it yet. They only created it - oh, ten or twenty years ago. It might have flown under your radar, being so old and all.” 

Leorio’s eyebrow ticks dangerously. 

“ Ooh, what’s this?” Killua continues, poking his head into the open crate and ignoring the storm of fury brewing behind his back. “I haven’t actually seen this herb before. Maybe it’s something native to Whale Island, Gon?” 

Gon breathes a silent prayer to the heavens and nudges closer to Killua, moving him away from the range of Leorio’s immediate wrath. “Yeah, so this grows mainly in Snakebeech Forest, which is one of the forests near the mountain,” he says. “Its growing conditions are very specific, so we’re only able to raise a small crop every year.”

Killua paws at the herbs with interest. “So is it expensive?”

“Not really. Aunt Mito didn’t try to market it internationally or anything, so it’s become sort of unique to Whale Island cuisine.” 

“That would explain how I’ve never seen it,” Killua says. He startles when the boat rocks underfoot, sending some of the luggage in the storage room sliding across the floor. “Is it another stop?” 

Kurapika shakes his head. “It’s almost midnight now,” he says. “We should be at the palace now.” 

Killua’s eyes are sharp in the darkness. “So we’re starting soon.” 

The wane lights in the storage room flicker from the movement of the ship, sparking briefly before returning to their usual dull dim. Kurapika’s usual cool, polite smile is still present, but his grey eyes are as hard as stones. He and Killua have to distract the guards and maids away from Neon’s side. While they’re both capable fighters, Gon’s fully aware of Kurapika’s dislike of violence, even justified fighting. And no matter how skilled Killua is, being a cat can’t mean anything good for his odds. 

At the very least, Killua doesn’t look too worried. He sprawls out on the floor nonchalantly, his eyes half shut with laziness. The swaying of the boat seems to lull him into a half-conscious state and he goes quiet for the first time in hours, his breathing so quiet even Gon can’t hear him. Kurapika spares the two of them a look before leaning in to discuss something with Leorio. 

A few moments pass before one of Killua’s eyes cracks open a notch. “What are you looking at?” he says softly, teasingly. “I can feel you staring at me, you know.” 

Gon startles reflexively. “I’m not - “ 

“You’re not very sneaky,” Killua says, but there’s a smile buried under his voice. “What is it? Cat got your tongue?”

“That sounds like a joke Leorio would make.”

“Shit, you’re right - I’ll have to think of something else.” 

Gon flops onto his back and stares at the cracked ceiling above them, the lights that sway dizzyingly overhead. “After this is all over,” he says, “Where do you want to go first?”

Killua opens both of his eyes. “You’re still going on about that?” he says skeptically. “Gon, I already told you I have to stay with my sisters.”

“You said you’d travel with me,” Gon says stubbornly. 

Killua gives him a disbelieving stare before sighing in defeat. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve already gone to a lot of places.”

“For your old job?”

“...Yeah.” 

“That wasn’t really sightseeing, was it?” Gon says. “It probably wasn’t that fun. Were there any places that seemed interesting?”

Killua pauses to think for a moment. He shakes his head. “Most of my jobs were in cities, and they’re all built the same way. There’s not much to see.” 

His words are oddly reminiscent of Bisky’s. There’s a certain lack of interest in his tone, like all the good things in the world have been wrung out and tossed away, leaving him with nothing more than a dry map with faded lines. Gon expects it to feel discouraging - after all, it’d be a shame if Ging left him and Aunt Mito for nothing more than an empty world - but Killua’s words only make his heart beat faster with anticipation. 

“It’d still be better than staying in one spot though, probably,” Gon says. “What if I proved you wrong?”

“Proved me wrong of what?” Killua asks. 

“Proved to you that the world wasn’t that boring,” Gon says. He leans forward in excitement, his heart beating earnestly in his throat. “We can travel together and instead of trying to fulfill a job we’ll just look for what’s fun! And like I said before, maybe you can find something you like while we’re on that journey. I bet there’s a lot of things even you missed!”

Killua looks at him doubtfully. “Maybe.” 

“I’m sure of it,” Gon says. “Here - why don’t we pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise?” Killua repeats incredulously. “I’m not a kid.” 

“You’re a cat right now,” Gon points out.

“Don’t be a smart-ass. We don’t even have pinkies right now, anyways.” Killua sticks out a paw sleepily and lays it down on Gon’s leg. “So what’s your promise?”

“That I’ll make the world exciting for you,” Gon says immediately. That you can trust me. “And that you’ll find what you’re looking for.” That you can be happy. 

“You say the strangest things, for fuck’s sake,” Killua grumbles, but he doesn’t move away from their attempted pinky promise. “Well? What do you want in return?”

Gon blinks. “In return?” 

“I have to promise something to you,” Killua says. “That’s the point of a pinky promise, right?” 

Gon opens and closes his mouth. He hadn’t expected Killua to say that - he had assumed it would just be a one-way thing, or that Killua would bat him away with an embarrassed huff of breath. There’s nothing he wants from Killua. Nothing he can put into words yet, at least. 

“I guess you could just promise to stay with me,” he says, a little awkwardly. “You know, like we said last night.” 

Killua rolls his eyes. “That’s it?”

“I can’t think of anything else!” 

“Then don’t go around promising things, idiot.” Killua gives him a good-natured smack. “I’m glad, by the way.”

Gon sits up. “Glad about what?”

Killua hesitates. His eyes narrow, like he’s reluctant to say whatever he’s thinking.

“Spit it out, Killua! We’re almost there.”

“That I stayed,” Killua says in a rush. He’s still staring at the floor; something about the wood must be wildly interesting, because he doesn’t make eye contact with Gon at all. “You said that you were happy I came with you.”

Gon nods, a little lost. 

“I’m happy, too,” Killua says haltingly. “That’s all.” 

The boat lurches to a stop and they all stiffen with surprise. Outside the storage room the sailors start to burst to life, their voices overlapping and mixing with each other. Faintly, Gon can hear the quiet strains of music from shore. The lights in the storage room shake in tandem with the boat’s movement, casting long shadows across Kurapika and Leorio’s face. 

“We’re here,” Kurapika says. Gon swallows down his response - he’s not sure what he would have said, anyways - and gets to his feet.

They’ve really pulled out all the stops for this, Gon thinks. From the safety of Kurapika’s pocket, he stares up at the lights that festoon the palace’s towers, the air wreathed with the smell of spices and smoke. The upper deck of the boat bustles with life as sailors scurry back and forth to ferry supplies to shore. Leorio wedges himself in front of Kurapika so anyone’s view of him is obstructed by the massive crate in Leorio’s arms. 

“Ready?” he says out of the corner of his mouth. “Take that path up to the castle. I’ll distract them.” 

Leorio drops his crate with a loud bang, effectively directing everyone’s attention away from Kurapika. He and Killua edge around the side of the boat and descend down the boarding ramp before anyone has properly registered Leorio’s fumble. By the time a sailor starts yelling furiously, mouth full of dirty curses and insults, Kurapika scoops Killua into his arms and sprints for the sandy path winding up to the palace. The waves are loud and raucous by the beach. 

“That was fast, Kurapika!” Gon says in awe. “They didn’t notice you at all.”

“He could go faster,” Killua says. Kurapika doesn’t say a word and simply lifts a finger to flick him on the forehead. His ability to deal with Killua’s bullshit is incredible. “So where are we entering from? Is there a back door or something?”

“There’s a door to the kitchen,” Kurapika says, “and that’s the path the supply boats usually take to get in and out. I was planning on doing that, but the risk of getting noticed is too high. It’s too far from where Lady Nostrade will probably be, too.” 

Gon frowns thoughtfully. “That’s true… I didn’t think of that.” 

“We could climb,” Killua suggests. “That’d get us to her room easier.”

Kurapika skids to a halt in front of the same wall they had escaped over the previous night. “Are you insane?” he whispers. “You want me to climb all those floors and break in through the balcony?” 

Killua gives him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, why?” 

“Seems like a solid plan,” Gon whispers. Kurapika’s eyebrows shoot up into his bangs. “Start climbing, Kurapika.” 

Kurapika goggles at them both. He scales the wall and lands on the other side neatly, his feet barely dimpling the grass before he takes off around the back of the palace. Killua lets out a quiet hum of interest at that. 

“You’ve been learning from me.” 

“Of course I have.”

There are a few guards positioned around the garden, but only in predictable places, like the various entrances in and out of it and the large groves of trees lining the palace walls. It’s quiet compared to the music coming from inside the palace. With minimal hassle - one guard does notice Kurapika’s shadow flitting by and he has to throw a rock in the other direction to distract them - he makes his way around the palace. 

“Hold on,” Gon whispers. “Are we even sure that Neon will be in her room?”

Killua twists to look at him. “Isn’t it a little late to mention that?” he hisses. “Didn’t you say it’s customary for her to be getting ready in her chambers before the big dance? It’s not midnight yet! She has to be there!”

“That’s when things are going normally,” Gon says. “It just feels like something is off. I don’t think we should both head to her room.”

Killua stares ahead sullenly before letting out a breath. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

Gon’s mouth falls open slightly. He’d expected Kurapika to trust his instinct to some extent, having known him for so long, but Killua? That comes as a surprise. “Um - one of us goes to the back of the ballroom, where guests enter,” he says, his words coming out more rushed than usual. “The other will head up to Neon’s room. Kurapika, you just…”

Kurapika raises a shoulder in acknowledgment. “I’ll just blend in with the guards. Even if the fake prince has put out a warning for me, most of them like me enough that I could get by with a made up story or something.” 

“I think that’d work.” 

Killua makes a small noise of agreement. “So,” he says. “Feel up for climbing?”

Kurapika rolls his eyes. “No, because I just remembered there’s a better way to get in,” he says, voice clipped with lighthearted sarcasm. “There’s a backdoor somewhere around here; Gon knows about it. Not a lot of people know about it, because it’s meant to be a last resort escape route of sorts. That’ll get us on the floor right under Neon’s room.” He glances around his surroundings quickly and taps a dislodged section of the palace wall sharply. A moment later, a small doorway opens up in the shadows, releasing stale air and a well-preserved cold. One last look at the garden and they’re back in the palace.

Aside from the music pulsating down the corridors, the palace is so quiet it seems abandoned. All of the usual, gentle flurry of guards and maids is gone. Gon looks up to see concern tightening at the corners of Kurapika’s eyes. 

“They might have been posted elsewhere,” Killua says from under Kurapika’s other arm. “Remember all the guards we saw out in the city last night?”

It’s a little surprising that Aunt Mito would have let the fake prince’s command go through - after all, it was pretty out of character for Gon to take drastic action like that - but Gon makes a noise of agreement. “It’s usually emptier on the second night,” he whispers. “Everyone gets involved with the party.”

“Right.” Kurapika ducks behind a stately column and lets the animals onto the floor. “So who’s going where?”

“I’ll go to the ballroom,” Gon offers at the same time Killua tilts his chin in the direction of the music. “What? No, you go to Neon’s room!” 

“We can’t have you running into the Nen user,” Killua says. “That’s too risky. He needs your blood, remember? For his talisman or whatever. I should go to the ballroom first.” 

“Neon’s probably in the ballroom, though. If I get to her first then that won’t be a problem anymore!”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“I’ll be fine,” Gon coaxes. “Besides, Kurapika can come with me if you’re worried!”

Killua’s back arches with indignation. “I’m not worried - “ 

Kurapika pats him consolingly. “It’s okay to admit these things, dearest Killua.” 

“Get your hand off before I bite it off your arm.” 

Gon takes advantage of their bickering and jumps between the two, aiming the full force of his largest smile at Killua. Some of the warmth is lost in the face of his current form - amphibians, unfortunately, do not have a wide range of facial expressions - but he makes it work. “Please, Killua?” he cajoles. “I have a good feeling about this.”

To be honest, he’s feeling a little uneasy about whatever’s happening in the ballroom, but he’d much rather find out what it is himself instead of asking Killua to do so. He knows he’s won when Killua lets out a long exhale and rolls his eyes, says, “Well I don’t like this, but if you insist - stop smiling at me like that, dumbass, your face is going to freeze in that expression!” and pushes him away gently. “Don’t be stupid and let Kurapika know immediately if anything happens. Where’s Neon’s room?”

“Up those stairs, to the left,” Kurapika says. The white cat nods and disappears without another word, its eyes swallowed up by the patchy darkness in the castle. Gon watches the silvery shadow fade out of eyesight and then turns in the direction of the ballroom. The hallway is ridiculously large around him. 

Kurapika nudges him with his shoe and lets him climb up into his palm. “I’m going to go through the rooms around the ballroom,” he says. “You sneak in through the side door.” He brings Gon up to his face. “And like Killua said, don’t do anything stupid. Let me know if something changes, alright?”

Sometimes Gon forgets that Kurapika is one of the most respected (and in extension, feared) officials in the Freecss Kingdom. There are few people who can stand up to his steely glare; off the top of his head Gon can name two people - him and Killua. He gives his friend a sheepish smile and nods. The action doesn’t do much to relieve the tension in Kurapika’s shoulders, but the pinch between his eyebrows smooths out slightly. 

“Alright?” Kurapika asks.

“I’m okay. And you?” 

“Yep. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

When Aunt Mito had first taken Kurapika in, he had been silent and vengeful; he spent days sitting inside his room, refusing to let even the butler in to give him dinner. Most of Gon’s attempts to make conversation were met with a door in his face. On good days, he would get curt, one-sentence replies. They had ended up establishing a system of questioning - short, honest, to the point. For someone as stubborn as Gon and someone as elusive as Kurapika, this helped them avoid misunderstandings and arguments. 

At some point, they had both grown up and become more careful with what they did and didn’t say - mostly Kurapika, but Gon knew how to handle him better as well. They didn’t need to use it to diffuse arguments anymore, so it became a way of comforting each other or making meaningless small talk. 

Kurapika grazes the top of Gon’s head with a gentle finger before he turns down a hallway and disappears. Gon’s not sure where he’s planning to search, but there’s never been a need for him to question him on those things. He wedges himself through the ballroom door and finds a place in the shadows. There’s a brief lull in sound as the musicians switch to another song and people skirt the room looking for a new partner. He ducks under a fluttering tablecloth and scans the ground for familiar pairs of shoes - his usual black pair that the fake prince might be wearing or the extravagant heels that Neon Nostrade sported. The small orchestra breathes as one and sways into a quieter, softer tune.

That’s Aunt Mito’s lullaby, Gon realizes with a jolt. The melody sounds different as an orchestra. The words have been divided into parts, sectioned to different instruments and harmonies, but the song is more or less the same. Whenever Aunt Mito sang, she’d change the lyrics a little; it must have been something she made up as she sang, folding words and lessons in to lull Gon to sleep. Hidden in the shadows cast by the lights overhead, Gon shuffles around the perimeter of the ballroom and squints across the sea of cloth and high heels in front of his eyes. There’s no sign of Neon’s bright blue hair. Killua probably found her first, then, since he went up to her room. Gon scans the room again before he hears a loud, raucous laugh.

There’s two boys - maybe fourteen? In the center of the ballroom, enthusiastically pushed in by guests wearing similar colors. They must all be from the same nation, although Gon isn’t sure which one. With a wave of Aunt Mito’s hand, the lullaby shifts into a fast-paced, upbeat tune. There’s a moment of clumsiness between the two - awkward placements of hands, an untied shoelace, a shirt collar knocked askew - before they start dancing. They’re both clearly inexperienced, stumbling over each other in an attempt to keep up with the beat, but their joy is infectious and soon the entire crowd is laughing, cheering them on. Their hands never leave each other and there’s pure, unadulterated happiness in their face as they sweep across the floor as a duo. 

“Look at the two young princes,” someone says fondly. “Aren’t they adorable?” 

Gon ducks in time to avoid getting hit in the face with the folds of a dress. “They’re so good for each other,” a girl sighs. She reaches for a glass of punch and downs it in one go. “Lucky ducks.” 

The person next to her snickers and elbows her in the side. “You’re just jealous.” 

“I am not!” she seethes, her cheeks flushing. “Why would I care if two fucking fetuses are in love, that doesn’t mean shit to me.”

Her friend raises an eyebrow. “Literally last week you were crying about that one time when she was helping you get on a horse and - “ 

Gon tunes out the rest of the conversation, only flinching in surprise when the girl smacks the punch glass down on a table with enough force to crack the glass. Her retort is quiet and flushed with embarrassment, but he keeps his attention on the two boys in the center of the ballroom. One of them attempts to dip the other, only to drop him and earn a high-pitched yelp in response. The boy picks himself up from the ground and starts scolding him. His words are punctuated with giggles, though, and it only takes a synchronized huff of laughter to set off the entire crowd again. 

“Hey, Killua,” Gon starts, “Wouldn’t it be fun if we - “ 

He stops himself abruptly and looks around. He had forgotten that Killua wasn’t next to him. Luckily, it doesn’t look like anyone heard him over the music. 

He turns back to the two boys. The girl had described them as in love. Gon mouths the two syllables to himself.

Do you really think we’ll stay together for that long? 

Do I have any reason to believe otherwise? You must have realized by now. Haven’t you? 

Love, Gon thinks, the people who are most in love are the ones that don’t care about how it’s defined, and then, of course. How did I not realize it before? 

There’s no prerequisite needed for love. No one is ever handed a contract with a set of guidelines they need to fulfill. Love shouldn’t be chained to a label, the old shopkeeper had said. When people try to force love into a definition, it becomes restricting. Love can be an awkward dance with stumbling feet and sweaty hands. Love can be an hour spent by a muddy riverbank, catching flies in the chilly air. Love can be a white-haired ghost, framed by the moon, and a clumsy, meaningless, kiss. 

Gon’s about to turn and find Kurapika - he knows now, just like Bisky had said, he knows what he has to do - until he feels a shadow hover over him and a sharp, surprised exclamation. 

“Oh, what’s this?” someone asks in his own voice. “Looks like you’ve come right back into my hands, huh?” 

His entire body freezes up before he can even flinch. He stares into his own eyes, crinkled with fake politeness and rusted over into a dull gold. If he strains his ears, he can hear a muted, metallic rustling from the sides of the prince’s face. Gittarackur picks him up and stares at him with interest. His hands are rough with familiar calluses and unusually cold. 

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble,” Gittarackur says. He pulls a thin, silver needle from his carefully ironed sleeve. “Sleep now. I’ll deal with you later.” 

Killua takes back everything he’d said about the palace being easy to navigate. If he was a human, the many corridors and rooms would have been a cinch to find his way around, but as a cat? Even if he strains his head, the highest he can see are the tops of the massive skirts that the maids carry around. Having to dodge out of their line of vision sets him back several paces as well, so by the time he makes it to Neon’s room the door is already locked and silent with no guards in view. 

So Gon was right, he thinks, allowing himself a grumble of displeasure before turning away and heading back for the stairs. The situation works in their favor, though. If Neon Nostrade had still been in her room, he would have had to double back and let Gon and Kurapika know. If everything goes well, Gon will meet with Neon, convince her to help him, turn himself and Killua back into humans, and then - 

Killua shakes his head to clear his thoughts. That’s not something he needs to think about now.

He makes it to the ballroom without any hindrances, the lights lining the walls casting convenient shadows for him to slip into. Kurapika stands at the edge of a gathering of partygoers by the door, his stolen clothing nowhere in sight and a mask fixed over his face. Killua nudges his shoe to get his attention. 

“She’s already in the ballroom,” Kurapika says out of the corner of his mouth. “We were a little late.”

As the orchestra shifts into a slow dance, the crowd disperses into pairs. “I can tell that much,” Killua says. “So where is he? He’s probably already had time to talk to Neon.”

“Probably somewhere in the center. I didn’t want to get too close.”

Killua nods. “Should I ask where you got that mask?”

The corner of Kurapika’s mouth quirks up slightly. “They’ll just be out for a little bit. That neck chop you taught works wonders.” 

“Where’d you put them?”

“Storage closet.” 

“I feel for the janitor that has to come through to clean up tonight.” Killua looks across the sea of swirling gowns and brightly polished shoes. There’s a sudden lull in movement; all at once, the partygoers draw back to the edges of the room. Killua glances through a man’s legs to see what’s going on. 

“Kurapika?” he says after a moment. His throat is tight and clenched, his voice forcing itself into his mouth. “Is that him?”

Kurapika looks as bewildered as he sounds. “I don’t know, it’s… he feels like Gon, somehow. I didn’t think he’d be able to break the curse with Neon.”

“What? Why?” 

His friend hesitates. “I didn’t think that was love. Maybe it didn’t have to be deep love or anything, I just thought that there was someone - never mind,” Kurapika cuts himself off. “That’s probably Gon, but why…?” 

Killua watches the prince sweep Neon Nostrade into a slow-paced waltz. Gon catches Kurapika’s gaze and gives him an enthusiastic, discreet wave with his free hand. His eyes pass over Killua completely. It’s a sharp reminder of how out of place Killua is. The gentle lights of the ballroom scorch his eyes. 

“I’ll wait outside,” he manages. His lungs have shrunk to cold, smooth marbles in his chest, air brushing past them and rushing up into nothingness. “There’s only a few minutes left until midnight, so just let me know when he’s done.” 

“Killua, wait.”

Killua’s voice feels foreign in his own throat. “Make sure he hurries it up, will you? I still need to make sure Alluka and Nanika are alright. 

Kurapika nods slowly, his forehead creased with confusion. “Right. Don’t go too far.” 

There’s no reason for him to be upset over this. He had said it himself, hadn’t he? No involvement with the royal family. Gon gives him the money, he gets back to Alluka, and that’s the end of it. That had been the plan. 

But then Gon had talked about traveling the world together, about wanting to stay with Killua. Sixteen years of training hadn’t prepared him for anything like that. He’s not supposed to want things. Besides, making sure Alluka and Nanika are safe is enough. It shouldn’t matter to him what some random, inexperienced prince thinks of him. 

It shouldn’t. But here he is, heart squeezing in his chest like all those cheesy romance novels Milluki had in his room. He can imagine the reactions he’d get if he told his family that their darling heir, the boy they dragged through hell and back, ended up like this. Killua scoffs at the closed ballroom door behind him. 

The gentle lull of the orchestra winds to a sudden halt, leaving the palace suspiciously quiet. It doesn’t feel like a party anymore; there’s a cold undercurrent of tension that has the hair on Killua’s back rising. Something about the chill is familiar. He hesitates, edging the line between leaving and going back in. 

A second later, he leaps out of the way when the doors slam open, bouncing right off the walls with the force. “Killua!” Kurapika shouts. He looks around the hall frantically, catches sight of the white cat crouched on the floor, and tosses something in his direction. “Take this and go!”

“What happened?” he asks, fumbling with the object. It’s the talisman Gon had described, with crimson blood sloshing inside of the intricately carved charm. Not for the first time he mourns his lack of opposable thumbs and opts to fit it carefully between his teeth. There are tears in Kurapika’s pant leg. Something small and sharp - a knife, maybe? “Where’s Gon?” 

“Leorio ran to the garden to get him,” Kurapika says. “The Nen user put needles in everyone’s head. They’re all controlled now.” 

“ What? ” 

“Needles,” Kurapika repeats impatiently. “He uses needles and the guests are all going after Gon now.” 

Killua inhales quietly and lets his breath still. “Okay. Got it. Can you take care of that?”

Kurapika waves a hand at him and disappears back into the ballroom. Killua turns to the sound of glass shattering and runs. 

He winces against a sharp stab of pain between his eyes. “Needles,” he whispers to himself. Think, for fuck’s sake - you know someone who uses needles, who is it? A fellow assassin? A victim? It probably wasn’t a victim; it’s been years since he got injured by a target, much less injured enough for them to leave a lingering impression in his mind. It’d have to be someone closer to him. That doesn’t make sense, though. The only people he really talked to outside of missions was his family, and he wouldn’t - 

Can’t 

- forget anything about them. He grits his teeth, careful not to pierce the talisman, and darts down a narrow corridor. The pervasive chill he had felt before lingers in the air. 

“Killua.”

He stiffens and whirls around. Gon stands in the hallway, his shadow long and dark. The dim light from the lanterns on the walls get swallowed up in his wide eyes.

Cautiously, Killua takes a step backwards. “Gon?”

“Killua,” Gon says, his breath rushing in relief. “What’s going on? Kurapika helped me get out. Why are all the guests acting like that? Did the Nen user do something?”

“Kurapika helped - “ Killua narrows his eyes. “You know, if you’re going to tell a lie, at least make it convincing.” 

Gon tilts his head. The action is deliberately childish. “What are you talking about?” 

“Gon already left with someone else. Kurapika’s still in the ballroom.” The darkness seems to have gathered around Gon’s feet, shadows sticking to his neatly shined shoes. “Who the fuck are you?”

Gon’s face twitches slightly, an expression of muted displeasure flashing across his mouth before it smooths back into a smile. “Maybe you’re just not used to seeing me like this. Should I turn back into a frog?” 

“I’m not falling for that, idiot,” Killua snaps. If he needed any more proof that the person in front of him wasn’t Gon, the flatness behind the joke cements his suspicions. “Gittarackur, was it? Stop joking around. I bet this talisman is pretty important, isn’t it?” He bites down on the leather loop attached to the talisman, letting the small charm swing slowly over the floor. “All I need to do is break it and something will happen to the curse.” 

That gets to the fake Gon. He frowns mechanically. “We can’t have that happening.”

His voice sounds hollow, like sound trapped and vacuumed in a metal tube. He takes a step closer to Killua, his footsteps disturbing the light dappling the ground. “Kil, hand it over.”

Killua’s chest goes cold. “Kil?” 

Gon clicks his tongue. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your older brother already. It’s only been a few months since we lost track of you, Kil.” He steps forward again and this time Killua doesn’t back away. His feet are rooted to the ground. “Maybe it’s a good thing that you got involved with this silly kingdom and its prince; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to find you.” 

“ Illumi ,” Killua whispers. His words tumble and get stuck somewhere in his throat. “What are you…?”

“Family business,” Illumi says. He jerks his head a little, as if there’s water stuck in his ear, and looks back at Killua. His dull, black eyes are sunken and disproportionate to the rest of Gon’s face. “Give me the talisman and come home with me. Father will be pleased that I can kill two birds with one stone.” He considers his words and then amends. “Ah, wait, but you said that there’s something else living in Alluka - Nanika, was it? That’d be three birds, then. Even better.” 

It takes Killua a second to process the meaning behind his words. When it does, he feels as though a weight has dropped through his stomach, an anchor hooking around his heart and yanking it down towards his feet. He means it literally. He means to kill them. 

“I’m not going to give it to you,” he chokes out. “I won’t let you.” 

“Is that so?” Illumi asks. He blinks purposefully. The movement sends agony through Killua’s forehead, white-hot pain exploding in the back of his vision. “That won’t do. You’re in no position to negotiate. You know that better than anyone else.” 

Killua swallows against his heartbeat. He doesn’t loosen his hold on the talisman.

Illumi lets out a rattling sigh. “You’ve gotten headstrong, Kil. But very well. Perhaps you’ll need some convincing.” 

He waves his hand and the murky hallway disappears. It’s replaced with warm walls of wood conjured from smoke, soft golden lights bobbing above his head from a high ceiling. Killua turns and bumps into a piano. The keys move up and down gently, guided by ghost hands, but he hears no music. He watches the strings in the instrument vibrate with silence. 

He raises a shaky hand to his head and feels at the small ponytail nestled in his curls. “Where…?”

“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” Illumi says. “A restaurant where you and Alluka can be safe, away from the politics of royalty.” One flick of his finger, and platters of food appear from kitchens made of air. “You want to give her all the beautiful dresses she wants. And you just want to be a normal boy, don’t you? You want to play music and swim at the beach and go shopping and most of all - “ 

Across the crowd of people in the restaurant he sees a flash of green hair. 

“You want love,” his brother says softly. “You want him, don’t you?”

Killua’s hands go warm and cold all at once. 

Illumi latches onto him like a leech. “I knew it,” he whispers. The walls of the restaurant ripple like a pebble sinking into a river. “You are so selfish, you know that? You want and want and you keep wanting until there’s nothing left. You suck people dry of the things you wish for and you leave them for dead once you’re tired of them.” 

“That’s not true,” Killua says weakly. The lie sticks like dry ice to the roof of his mouth. 

Dream-Gon turns to him and smiles. He holds out a popsicle, bright blue juice leaking into his palm. Hey, Killua, try this out! His voice distorts into Illumi’s. Killua, doesn’t it look good? The prince asks with a mouth not entirely his, a smile that is half dead and half alive. The popsicle melts through his hand and splatters across the ground. 

Killua moves to take a step forward but pauses before he puts his foot down. His cheeks are hot with fear. He can feel Illumi shifting behind him, a knife in Dream-Gon’s hand resting squarely on his neck. “So you do remember, hm?” Illumi says through the boy’s throat. “I drilled it into your head - never try to fight someone stronger than you. If you can’t guarantee you’ll win - “

Wait 

“- run away and wait for another chance. And you know that you can’t beat me, Kil.” 

I can’t 

Dream-Gon puts down the knife and the image of the restaurant returns to normal. The weapon is whisked away and the stain on the floor cleaned off by men in fitted suits and black shoes. 

“So how about this, Kil?” Illumi says conversationally. “I’ll strike a deal with you. I’m holding you back from your restaurant, aren’t I? And Dad wants Alluka back because of her power. But it looks like in the few months that have passed, you’ve been able to keep her in check. I’ll tell him to stop chasing you. We’ll leave you alone, and you’ll never be a Zoldyck again.” 

Killua opens his mouth and tries to relearn how to speak. “But?” he rasps. 

Illumi’s eyes are wide and dark purple. “But you’ll have to give us the Freecss heir in exchange,” he says. “I have to follow through with his assassination. Give him to us, and we’ll never touch you or Alluka again.” 

“What are you talking about? I couldn’t - “

“But you could, couldn’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he works his teeth around the words painfully. 

His brother lets out a disapproving sigh. The sound whistles like icy wind through his ears and he flinches. “Don’t play dumb, Kil. You don’t really care for him, do you? You just thought it’d be like an adventure - like all of those times you snuck out of the mansion to see what was happening beyond the mountain - when you found him as a frog. But you’re not really friends.” He grabs the front of Killua’s hair and gently pulls him forward into his empty gaze. “Gon Freecss may be interesting to you, but in the end, he’s just another person for you to kill. If you hadn’t escaped, you would have ended up assassinating him yourself sooner or later.”

Killua feels his arms go slack. “No,” he whispers. “You - “

“You would have,” Illumi cuts him off. His tone is flat. “The Freecss were always a rivaling kingdom. With Ging Freecss’ disappearance and his sister on the throne, it was only a matter of time before someone got rid of his son. Just think about it, Kil. The Zoldycks will become more prosperous with him gone. Our kingdom will finally be able to expand, and you’ll get your restaurant with Alluka. We’ll even pay off any bills you need to get it started and then you’ll never have to hear from us again. All you need to do is to give me that talisman.” 

Illumi bends down slightly to his eye level and lays his hand on his shoulder. The movement is oppressive, not gentle. “You weren’t meant to save people. You never were.”

A heavy weight sinks into Killua’s chest. 

“Illumi.” The words scratch their way up his throat like fingernails on a chalkboard. “You.. mean it? You’ll leave Alluka alone?”

A cold hand trails across his jaw. The pads of his brother’s fingers are cigarette burns punching into his skin. “I swear it,” Illumi says. “Even when the Zoldycks expand, we won’t touch you. We’ll help you move if you need it through other sources. But you’ll never get involved with the family trade again.” 

Killua lets out a breath. It’s the logical choice. He’s only known Gon for a day. His family will never let him go - he’s the silver-haired heir, the most talented assassin in the history of the Zoldyck bloodline. As long as they have their claws in his back, he and Alluka will never be free. He just needs to let one person go. He opens his mouth only to realize his voice is silent. 

“Kil?”

His lips are trembling so violently he can’t speak. His thoughts are fragmented and awkwardly puzzled together. 

“Kil, hurry up.” 

He startles and almost trips over his feet. Illumi grabs his arm harshly to steady him but there’s a strange, fearful light in his empty eyes. A moth batting at the edges of his pupils. “Make your decision,” he hisses. “Give me the talisman. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

The image of the restaurant is starting to pucker at the seams. Killua wets his lips, his throat choked with cotton, and then he sees Alluka across the room. She turns and gives him a disapproving look. 

Are you really going to do this, brother? She says. You’re going to sacrifice your dearest friend to get me a ball gown? 

Alluka, it’s not like that - 

It is. It is, and I know you’re not going to do it, she insists. Brother, I know you’re good at killing - but I know you’re tired of it. If we have to keep running, then we’ll run. I don’t want to see any more blood on your hands. She swallows, and the floor under her seems to bend into her gravity. I hated seeing your expression after you killed. It was never you, Brother - you weren’t meant to hurt people. 

Killua can feel a derisive laugh nestled between his ribs. He’s too scared to let it out. Then you think I can save people, Alluka? Me? I’ve killed more people than Gon’s ever met in his lifetime.

You saved him. And you’ll continue to save him, if you break the talisman. Don’t do this for me, brother. You deserve him.

I don’t. 

You do. 

What makes you think that?

Alluka shakes her head patiently. I can’t tell you that, she says. Why don’t you ask him? Why do you think he wanted to travel with you?

“Kil!” Illumi shouts. His grip is bruising and hot flares of pain shoot up Killua’s side. “Quickly!”

Killua grits his teeth and wrenches himself away. There’s something burning through the middle of his forehead. He can feel the space around him starting to crumble.

Illumi’s voice is deliberately controlled and edged with cold anger. “Kil, it’s not a hard choice to make.” 

Under any other situation, Illumi would be right; Killua has spent his entire life making choices between who gets to live and who doesn’t. It had stopped being something difficult and became something necessary long before he was a teenager. He’s not new to that song and dance. What he is new to - or fairly new, at least - is the vice that squeezes around his throat at the mere thought of Illumi getting his hands on Gon. It’s the same feeling he gets whenever he’s in the market with Alluka and he sees a flash of long, black hair and the air in his lungs dies abruptly. The fear that comes with being this close to Illumi threatens to overpower his ability to stand. He turns his head to the side to look back at Alluka, but she steps back into the party and Illumi grabs his face and forces him to look into his eyes. 

“There’s no reason to spare him,” Illumi whispers. His voice is even colder than Killua remembers. “Give me the talisman.” 

He’s right, Killua thinks, there’s no reason. 

But there is. 

In the face of Illumi’s anger, it’s hard to think through the fear that roots his feet to the ground, but his mind gathers itself into one, clear, conclusion; there is a reason. Logically, it shouldn’t make sense, nor hold any substance, but the thought wipes any trace of fog from his mind. The restaurant around him seems a lot more brittle and transparent. 

 “You put something in me,” he says. “When I was younger. It’s supposed to work with your Nen ability, isn’t it? But this - turning Gon into a frog, putting me in this dreamscape - this isn’t your ability. That’s why you need a talisman and that’s why you can only get an image of what I want. This space isn’t real - it’s not even strong because this is something you borrowed.” He winces and throws his hands over his face. “The condition for this power is tied to Gon and it’s - it must be something that can transform things according to a certain contract. You used the princess and the frog curse on him. This restaurant is created through a combination of your ability and the transformation ability. Am I right?”

Illumi’s expression twitches minutely. “Kil, I don’t have time for this.” 

Killua lets out a strangled laugh. “I don’t know the full extent of the borrowed Nen, but it’s from someone more powerful than you. Otherwise, your control over my memories and headspace would be much more powerful.” He backs up towards the edge of the dissolving wall. “Thanks to Alluka, I have a much better sense of the situation. She was right - I do always overthink stupid things.” 

There are white lights flashing in his eyes. He presses his fingers against his forehead and looks, really looks, and he finds it. 

“I’m in for a scolding when I go home later,” he says. “Alluka would kill me if I ever sacrificed anyone for her.”

“Kil -!” 

Killua flexes his hand and feels his fingernails curve into claws. “There is a reason,” he whispers. He can feel an unbridled laugh bubbling in his throat. “There is a reason, Illumi.”

Illumi’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?” he says. “You can’t possibly - “ 

Killua stabs himself through the forehead. The tips of his fingers find the tip of a silver needle - buried far into his head, the sharp end of it infused with Nen. He yanks on it, and the restaurant shatters into pieces around his feet. 

Just as he closes his eyes, he sees Dream-Gon standing in the middle of the crumbling mess, his eyes wide and gold. Where are you going, Killua? He seems to ask. His face is forlorn. Are you leaving me here? 

A last ditch effort by Illumi, then. But Dream-Gon is starting to blur in the wind. His features are warped and when he reaches out to show Killua his sticky hands, his skin looks like paper. Don’t go away, Killua. We’re friends. No one does that to their friend. 

His words strike an odd note of relief in Killua’s chest. Whatever Illumi took from his memories wasn’t enough. “You aren’t Gon,” he says. “The idiot would never say something like that.” He shuts his eyes fully now, and feels himself fall towards the earth. “See you, Illumi.” 

He hits the ground on all fours - back as a cat, then - and the sour taste of metal in his mouth. The talisman must have shattered when he ripped out the needle. He drops the broken pieces to the ground and turns it over gingerly. There’s barely any blood left in it. 

He jumps backwards when Illumi swipes at the pieces of the talisman. Thankfully, he’s abandoned his costume as Gon, his limbs twisting and stretching to their normal length. “No, no, no,” he hisses, futilely trying to fit them together. His Nen leaks through his skin furiously, tinting the air purple with his anger. “This can’t happen. I set the contract! It shouldn’t have broken!”

“But I took out the needle,” Killua says. He prods at the twisted piece of silver by his paw. “You know, this is a really unstable ability. Who gave it to you? It wasn’t anyone from our family, was it? I don’t remember Dad or Gramps owning anything like this.”

Illumi’s face contorts with a rare show of emotion. “That stupid clown,” he says through his teeth. 

“Clown,” Killua repeats dubiously, stunned partly by the fact that his voice doesn’t shake as he stares Illumi down and partly at the annoyance smearing the sharp lines of Illumi’s face. His brother has met someone who’s actually able to provoke emotion out of him. A clown. 

Illumi doesn’t seem to hear him, though, because the fragments of the talisman start smoking in his hands. The shadows actually start shifting with his movements now, twisting up his legs like strips of black paint. Illumi doesn’t bother to bat at them; perhaps he already knows what they mean. He gathers up the talisman in his hand and gets to his feet. 

“There’s nothing I can do now that you’ve broken it,” Illumi says, his tone restrained. “I’ll have to go back to Kukuroo Mountain.”

Killua blinks at him, a silent request for him to get to the point. He’s being way more rebellious than what’s safe, but pulling out the needle seems to have removed a blockade in his head; he feels clearer now, a little more confident. If he was human, he might have even given Illumi a bold middle finger.

Behind his back, of course. He can see needles glinting in his brother’s pockets. He’s not stupid enough to try his luck against those yet. 

“And the curse?” Killua asks.

Illumi’s lip curls. “The time limit doesn’t hold anymore,” he says. “However, that prince of yours still has to find love. I suppose he’ll be going after Neon Nostrade for that.” 

“Shame he won’t find any in you,” he adds, his body darkening and blurring with Nen, and then he disappears. He leaves behind nothing more than a wisp of ashy smoke, scattering through the air. 

Killua lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, his lungs deflating against his ribs. He must have been right in calling the contract an unstable ability, then - if it was able to take his brother away with his missions unfulfilled, the effort expended into creating the curse must have been enormous. He frowns at the spot his brother had previously occupied. If he remembers right, Illumi’s needles could be used to alter his own face and body shape, so there shouldn’t have been a need for Gon’s blood. 

He looks up to the sound of footsteps. It must be Kurapika; he recognizes the rhythm of his pace, although there’s an unusual worried note to it. “Killua?” Kurapika shouts. His frantic eyes scan the corridor. His shoulder slump when he sees him, tension draining out of the lines of his body. “Killua, what happened? I saw Gon - the fake prince leaving the room but I couldn’t stop him because of all the guests.” He inhales sharply. “Is that - “ 

“Oh, this?” Killua says. He rubs at the dark blood smeared into the carpet futilely. “It’s not mine. The talisman broke.”

“You broke it? So is the Nen user gone?”

“Yeah.” He watches Kurapika brush dust off his suit jacket. “It was Illumi, by the way.”

Kurapika’s head snaps up. “What?”

“The Nen user was my older brother. He uses needles to manipulate other people. That’s why all the guests were fighting back there.” 

“But your brother wouldn’t just leave. ”

“You’re right, he wouldn’t,” Killua says. “He’s never left a mission like this incomplete - I bet he was assigned to take Gon and Neon out. He was able to find me, too. I guess the curse ability’s backlash is strong enough even to make him give up.” 

Kurapika’s expression is tight with tension. “What are you going to do, then? You can’t stay here.”

Killua stares at the light filtering weakly across the carpet. “I don’t think he’s coming back any time soon.” 

“Really?”

“Illumi’s able to transform his body with his needles,” Killua explains. “He shouldn’t need another ability. The only thing I can think of is that he needed his disguise to be absolutely perfect, down to Gon’s personality. Back in the ballroom - it might have been because he had just replenished the talisman and kept Gon close by that you thought he was the real prince. It’s not like him to rely on another ability, especially one so risky.” 

“Was it another nation that put the hit on Gon’s head?” Kurapika asks. “Because if so, that could mean some of the other Zoldycks will go after him.” 

“Illumi told me it was so the Zoldyck nation could expand. Whale Island cuts off one of Padokea’s borders.” 

Kurapika inhales sharply at that. “So?”

“So it was probably one of my mom’s fits.” Killua sighs. “Remember what I told you last night? I said there was a possibility of a mission happening here. Regardless of what Illumi said, though, our dad doesn’t give a shit about expanding territory. Not anymore, at least. The Zoldycks have always stayed within Padokea. My mom probably assigned Illumi to this mission for fun.” 

“But - “ Kurapika swallows. “If he wanted to, he could’ve…”

“Yeah, you’re right. If this was a serious hit, we would all be dead by now. That might be why he chose that Nen ability. I just don’t get who could have told him about it, much less convince him to use it.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “It doesn’t matter, though. He said the time limit doesn’t hold anymore. Gon just needs to fulfill the ‘love’ part or whatever.”

Kurapika gives him a curious, angled look. “Right. Actually - what about you and your sisters?”

“Huh?”

“He might come after you two, right? It wouldn’t be a hit, just a family affair.”

Killua smiles slightly. The movement is painful and sore on his face, but at least it feels genuine in its relief. “I think I surprised him today.”
“With what?”

“Nothing.”

Kurapika raises an eyebrow. He startles when the sound of a bell vibrates through the floor, ringing twelve uniform times before quieting again. “It’s already midnight? I guess we took longer than I thought.” 

“We should probably meet up with Gon and Leorio now. Where’d you say they went?” 

“They’re probably still in the ballroom.”

“Is everyone okay?” Killua asks. “The needles that Illumi manipulates aren’t necessarily fatal, but I’ve never seen him control a group of people without them being at least severely injured.” 

Kurapika shakes his head. “They’re alright. I guess he was in a hurry.” 

Illumi has never acted like this on a mission, no matter how frivolous. “A clown, huh…”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing important. Don’t worry about it.” 

With Illumi gone, the entire palace seems to breathe a sigh of relief. The lights are brighter now, shadows retreating into the wall as Kurapika and Killua make their way back to the ballroom. Kurapika toes a shattered glass out of the way when they get to the door. 

“Bumped it with my elbow,” he explains. He picks at a smear of frosting on his sleeve. “Some of the partygoers clearly have combat knowledge.” 

“Where’s Gon?” 

“With Leorio, who’s tending to the guests. They’re probably wondering where you are now.” Kurapika scoops him up. “We should head over now.” 

The normally spotless ballroom floor is covered with wine stains and frosting. Several of the tables have been pushed over. Kurapika pushes a broken plate to the wall with his foot. “It’s lucky you managed to break… whatever spell Illumi had over them quickly,” Kurapika says. “It doesn’t look like too many people got injured. I was worried someone might get trampled.” 

Killua looks across the ballroom. Leorio kneels by a group of people, his briefcase flipped open and materials scattered by his feet. “Looks like everything will be okay. How are we going to explain what happened to the queen, though?”

Kurapika winces. “I’m not too worried about the queen as I am about the general populace… but it’ll be fine, as long as Gon returns to normal. Speaking of, where - “ 

“Kurapika!” someone whispers from the door they just walked through. Kurapika turns, eyes scanning the empty space behind them, and then looks down. He lets out a breath.

“Gon,” he says. “I thought I told you to stay with Leorio.”

Gon has the decency to look abashed. “I was gonna go looking for you. He’s handling all the guests, don’t worry.”

“I was mainly worried about you cutting yourself on all the glass. Didn’t you see how many plates got shattered? You could have gotten hurt.” 

“But I didn’t, so it doesn’t matter!” Gon says. “By the way - what happened, Killua? Did Gittarackur - ” 

“Illumi,” Killua corrects. “He’s my brother.” 

Gon’s mouth drops open. “Your brother? But he looks so… different.” 

“He takes after our mom.” At Gon’s confused expression, Killua adds, “You only saw him in disguise, probably. He doesn’t look anything like me.” 

Gon makes a small ah of understanding. “So are you the only sibling that took after your dad?”

“Pretty much.” 

“I see… oh, right! We still have that curse to take care of. But - “ Gon looks up at the ceiling. “I thought I heard the clock.”

“It’s midnight already,” Killua says.

“So does that mean - “ 

“The time limit doesn’t hold anymore,” Killua says, the words sour on his tongue. “You can ask Neon whenever.” 

Gon nods automatically. He pauses halfway through the motion and then looks at him. “Wait, Neon?” he says. He blinks at him with bewilderment. “Why would I ask Neon?” 

Killua stares at him. “That was the plan.” 

Kurapika coughs suddenly and deliberately. “I’m going to leave you two here. Leorio probably needs help, doesn’t he? Call me back when you’re finished.” 

“Kurapika, wait - “

Kurapika departs with a little more haste in his step than necessary. Whether that’s from whatever he exchanged in his glance with Gon or wanting to be with Leorio, Killua has no idea. He turns back to Gon. There’s an awkward lump lodged in his throat. “So?” 

“So,” Gon agrees. “About the plan.” 

“Did you find someone different?” 

It’s almost startling how quickly Gon’s eyes light up. “I did!” he says enthusiastically. “Besides, Neon’s the one who hurt her head, so it’d be awkward to try asking now.”

Killua swallows around a shard of glass. “Really,” he says politely. 

“Really!” Gon looks at him with a bright smile. The expression tips off to the side slightly when Killua doesn’t say anything else. “Um, Killua?”

Killua looks at the carpet with no small amount of fascination. Realizing that he likes Gon doesn’t change anything - he’s just embarrassingly self-aware now, his feelings accumulating in a neat and suffocating weight in his stomach. He’s being stupid about all of this so he just nods and drills holes in the ground with his stare and waits for Gon to leave. 

The frog doesn’t budge an inch from his place. 

“Well?” he prompts. 

“I just don’t know if they like me back,” Gon says sheepishly. 

“They don’t have to like you back.”

“I know they don’t, but it’s different now.”

That stings. Killua bites down on his tongue and asks, “In what way? I’m sure any of the royal families would be willing to offer you their heir if you asked.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Gon pauses and looks into the air, reconsidering his words. “Actually, that might be a concern. It’s just that I want them to like me back. I mean - Neon’s nice and all, but only as a friend, you know? But it’s different with them.” He lets out a little sigh. He looks absolutely starstruck, his expression glowing with affection. 

Well. Killua shouldn’t have been surprised, should he? Gon’s probably well-liked by royal families all across the world; it’s only natural that he would have found someone he liked. Illumi’s failure terminated the time limit, so Gon has all the time in the world to find that person and bring him home. There’s nothing more Killua has to do. 

He adjusts his feet and says through a voice that isn’t quite his own - a voice he hasn’t used in a while, the one he’d pull out during Zoldyck banquets when he was surrounded by lecherous businessmen and women with cloying fingers - and says, “Then hurry up and go get them, dumbass.” 

“I don’t have to do that, though,” Gon says. “They’re right here with me.” 

The breath leaves Killua’s lungs so abruptly he almost coughs. “Huh?” 

“Gittarackur told me that I wanted love and freedom, but Bisky said they’re redundant, vague concepts. A contract based on those values is pretty unstable, right?”

Killua looks at the needle on the ground. “I guess,” he says. “Why are you telling me this, though?” 

“Because I didn’t get it at first. Everyone talks about those things like they’re hard to achieve or you have to wait a really long time for them to come. But I did some thinking, and - “ Gon inhales quietly, and then says shyly, “I already came up with it a while ago. What I wanted, I mean.” 

“Which is?” Killua says skeptically. 

At that, Gon seems to retreat into himself even more, which is weird. Although Killua’s only known him for a day, Gon doesn’t seem like the type to get bashful easily. “Which is?” Killua repeats. 

“I just wanted to explore the world with you,” Gon says. “I could… find both of those things with you, I think.” He looks up at Killua with bright eyes. “You get what I’m trying to say, right?” 

It takes a second for his words to really sink in. “Wait,” Killua says faintly. He swallows around the hope rising in his throat. “You mean me?”

“Of course I mean you.” Gon hesitates. “Do you not want to travel with me? Which is fine, but - “ 

Killua shakes his head vehemently. “It’s not that. It’s just - why me?”

Gon tilts his head. “Why wouldn’t it be you?” 

“We just met. And I tried to kill you.”

“Oh, you mean on the balcony? I guess a talking frog would have been kinda surprising.” Gon shrugs. “But you’re a cat now, so you can’t really say anything now.”

Killua opens and closes his mouth. “You’re weird.” 

Gon smiles at that. “So you’ve told me.” 

“You’re really sure about this?”

Gon shrugs. “Mostly. I mean, all of this is pretty confusing, isn’t it? I don’t think we have to figure all of it out now.”

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it.”

“I haven’t. I just figured it out - or some of it, at least - when Gittarackur got his hands on me. And then I escaped from his box and all the guests were being controlled and I got sidetracked but - “ 

Killua thinks about the fake restaurant and Alluka and the illusion of Gon he saw, molten ice cream dripping through his fingers and sticking to his palm. “We have time,” he says. It feels like a confession, a gasp of fresh air he hasn’t been able to breathe in. “We don’t have to rush.”

Gon’s eyes brighten. “You think so? That’s what I was about to say.”

A comfortable silence stretches between the two of them. “So?” Killua says after a moment. “Is that… that?” 

“Is that what?” Gon asks.

“The curse breaker.”

“Oh,” Gon says. “I almost forgot about that. I guess you’ll have to kiss me again.”

Killua recoils. “Absolutely not. It was bad the first time around.” 

“ Rude. I’ll do it then, I guess. If you’re okay with it.” 

Gon makes his way to the top of Killua’s head. “Should I do it here?”

“For fuck’s sake, Gon,” Killua says. His face is hot with embarrassment. “You’re going to make it worse if you think too hard about it.” 

“But I have to think about it!” Gon protests. “This is important! What if it goes wrong? What if we’re stuck like this forever?”

Killua rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he sees Gon through his skull. “We can deal with it then! I’ll stay with you until we figure it all out, okay? So just get it over with.” 

Gon pauses. “Oh,” he says, flustered. “Yeah. We can do that too.” 

Gon positions himself in several locations before settling for sitting on his shoulder. He hovers nervously by Killua’s cheek and then leans over to kiss him. However, since he’s a frog, it feels more like an extended lick than anything remotely romantic. 

It does do the job, though, and a second later the same gust of wind pushes him back several paces, accompanied by a dull pulse of pain through his skull. He opens his eyes cautiously and stares at the carpet until his vision focuses. He looks down to see a pair of familiar shoes. 

“It worked,” he says breathlessly. He chokes down on a relieved laugh. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” 

Gon’s eyes are wide and gold when he looks at him. “Wow,” he blurts. “You’re really pretty, you know.” 

Killua regrets his decision to break the curse because his entire face warms, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. “Shut up,” he snaps, blushing furiously. Gon’s smile only widens giddily. “You’re humiliating.” 

“I’m just telling the truth! By the way,” Gon says, and his voice turns playful, “Now that you’re seeing me as me and not that… person, what do you think? Like what you see?”

Killua kicks him in the ankle. 

“I was expecting you two to be shorter, you know,” Leorio says, striding over while he snaps his briefcase close. “Kurapika’s still in there explaining the situation, I think. I’ll leave all the diplomatic problems to him.” 

Gon bounces to his feet. “You looked so much taller when I was a frog, but it’s not that bad. Haven’t you seen me before, though?”

“You always look different in the papers,” Leorio says. He turns to look at Killua, who’s still slouched on the floor. “So. Killua Zoldyck, huh?”

Killua raises a lazy hand in greeting. 

“I didn’t think your hair would be that white,” Leorio says thoughtfully. 

“Don’t,” Killua warns. 

“It’s almost like you’re older than me,” Leorio says, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. “Going grey already?”

With remarkable calm, Killua asks, “Remember our last fight?” 

Leorio shuts his mouth.

Gon looks between the two of them with a growing smile. He holds out a hand to pull Killua up from the ground. “So that’s all done, isn’t it?” he says. “That wasn’t too bad.”

Leorio grunts. “For you, maybe. Do you know how much stress I just underwent sneaking around the palace like that? One wrong move and I could get kicked off of Whale Island, you know.” 

“You know Gon wouldn’t do that,” Killua says. He tries to move his hand away, but Gon’s grip on it is unyielding. Maybe if he stares at the ceiling long enough, the flush on his cheeks will go away. “ Anyways. Kurapika can sort out everything with the guests. Gon, you should probably go to your aunt and explain everything. She’ll listen, right?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that. I wanna meet your sisters, though!” 

Killua successfully frees himself from Gon’s grasp. He regrets it a second later when Gon sticks his lower lip out in a pout. Pointedly, he looks away from his face and addresses Leorio instead. “There’s still a lot we have to deal with here. Besides, it’s midnight. They’re not going to be awake. We should stay the night and visit them in the morning.” 

Gon’s pout deepens at that but he acquiesces. “I’ll go talk to Aunt Mito. Wanna come with?” 

“Are you insane? I’m still a Zoldyck. Your party guests aren’t gonna like that.” Killua stretches out his arms and rubs at his forehead. The wound from the needle stings when he messes with his bangs to cover it. “I’ll wait for you outside.” 

Now that he’s at his usual height, it’s easy to appreciate the care and attention put into cultivating the gardens around the palace. While some of the plants are carefully clipped to uniform shapes, others are left to sprawl over the ground and grow in controlled chaos. Underneath a tree with long, drooping branches, he lays down on the ground and stares into the leaves far above his head. It’s warm but not unpleasantly so. 

His eyes are starting to flutter shut when he hears footsteps a few meters away. He tenses, fingers curling in the grass, but relaxes when the top of Gon’s messy hair comes into view. 

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Gon whispers. He nudges Killua with his toe. “Move over.” 

Killua rolls onto his side lazily. “How did it go?”

“They’re all confused - and mad, I think - but I explained as much as I could. Kurapika took over after that.” 

Killua cracks an eye open to look at Gon. As casually as he can muster, he says, “Did you tell them who Gittarackur really is?”

Gon tilts his head. “You mean him being a Zoldyck? No.” 

Killua sits up. “That’s good,” he says. “Diplomatically and… otherwise.” 

“D’you think Kurapika should bring it up to Aunt Mito later? When we’re in private or something.”

“Maybe. I told Kurapika this, but I don’t think it was a planned hit or anything. My mom likes to fool around sometimes. This was probably just one of those instances.”

Gon cracks a smile. “That was fooling around ? We almost got stuck as wild animals.” 

“You said that it was fun.”

“...Okay, maybe a little, but still! I kinda panicked when the clock rang.” Gon hops to his feet and grabs Killua’s hands before he can protest, pulling him to his feet in one fluid motion. “Forget about that. We still need to plan our trip, don’t we? I want to visit a whole bunch of places - like Heaven’s Arena or the World Tree or Padokea.” 

“You’re being really adamant about this travel thing, aren’t you?” Killua says with no real bite. 

Gon beams at him and swings their clasped hands into the air. He stares at Killua with open affection and it leaves him unbalanced, his heartbeat stuttering pleasantly in his chest. “I really want to explore with you!” he says. “By the way, are Alluka and Nanika gonna come? I still haven’t met them yet.” 

“That’s because I’ve known you for a day, dumbass.” 

“I still wanna know!” 

“They might,” Killua says. “And they deserve it, honestly. Alluka’s always wanted to go to a real ball - one where she wasn’t being gawked at or shoved into a suit or whatever - and - “ he startles. “I almost forgot. For some reason, she didn’t want to go to the ball yesterday, but she asked me to take home a ball gown. But a certain someone derailed my plans.” 

Gon gives him an unrepentant grin. “What were you gonna do, steal one from Aunt Mito?”

“Of course not,” Killua says, offended. A second later, his lip curls up into a smirk. “Okay, maybe. It wouldn’t have been that hard.” 

“Have a little more faith in our guards, Killua!”

“The only guard I have faith in is Kurapika, and that’s knowing he’s on a losing spree to me.” Killua watches Gon’s expression go from polite and affectionate to something mischievous and the weight of Killua’s words hits him full force. “Wait, that’s not what I meant - “ 

“You trust Kurapika!” Gon crows, throwing his head back into a laugh. His whole body moves with the sound and he tips over to the heels of his feet, held upright only by his grip on Killua’s hand. “I’m telling him that, you’re never going to live this down.” 

“Kill me,” Killua says, completely deadpan, but the sullen set to his lip disappears with Gon’s responding smile. “Anyways, I can ask them once I get home. They might stay behind to take care of the restaurant, though. That’s what they’ve always dreamt of.” 

“I really wanna try their food.” Gon’s pace speeds up a little and he tugs Killua into a light jog. They’re going around the palace in a mindless circle, hopping over bushes and flowers and definitely trampling a few underfoot, but Killua lets himself get pulled wherever Gon goes. “No matter what, though, we’ll stick together.” Gon turns to look at him. “That’s a promise!” 

The sun is starting to rise across the horizon, bright and orange and piercing, but Killua doesn’t raise his arm to shield himself from it. He tightens his grip on Gon’s hand and watches his smile unfurl under the growing light. “Always?” 

“Always.”