Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Killua blinks a ray of golden sunlight out of his eyes and pulls the curtains closed. His stomach grumbles against the effort of moving. He lets out a long sigh before sitting up in bed. 

“Alluka?” he calls through the door. “Is it time to go yet?” 

Clattering comes from the kitchen and then Alluka pops through the door. “Good morning, brother!” She sings. “I’m working on the pancakes. Extra chocolate chips, right?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says gratefully. “I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes, so if you could just put them on a napkin, that would be great.” 

“Already?”

“My shift starts soon.” 

Alluka frowns. “You got back two hours ago, brother.” 

Killua suppresses a yawn and opens the closet. “Really?” he says. “I feel like I slept longer.” 

His sister pulls his uniform out of the closet and brushes out its wrinkles for him. “That’s because you’ve barely slept at all this entire month,” she says. A slight crease forms between her eyebrows as she looks for his shoes. “And the first few weeks you didn’t even sleep at all.”

“I don’t need as much sleep as other people, you know that,” Killua says soothingly. He ruffles the top of her hair - she’s gotten so tall, he thinks, something squeezing in his chest gently - and laces up his shoes. “Besides, I’ll be able to sleep in soon. We’re almost at our goal.” 

Alluka raises an eyebrow. “You’d just use getting the restaurant ready as an excuse to sleep less.”

“Why would I - “ Killua pauses. “Fine. Maybe.” 

She lets out a breath. “I’ll be able to handle some of it,” she says. “So don’t try and do everything yourself, okay? Nanika and I have been talking a lot, and we’re able to switch out easier. You don’t have to worry about that.” She points her spatula at the small bathroom wedged to the side of his bedroom. “There’s extra hair ties in the second drawer. Try not to snap them this time.”

“That was one time!” 

Alluka rolls her eyes affectionately and closes the door behind her, the sound of pancakes sizzling on the pan marking her departure a second later. He stretches his arms over his head and pads over to the bathroom. He rubs the purple circles under his eyes futilely before washing his face and tying up part of his hair into a small ponytail. There’s something unnerving about looking tired. He’s rarely exhausted; he’s been trained to have limits far beyond the normal person. He chokes down a wad of unease along with a healthy amount of toothpaste foam. He never thought that working two full-time jobs would become more exhausting than being an assassin. 

“Brother, the pancakes are ready!” Alluka shouts. “Hurry up!” 

He had forgotten to take out his colored contacts while sleeping. He blinks once, resisting the urge to rub at the dryness in his eyes, and looks at himself in the mirror again. The harsh white light of the bathroom makes his skin look blue and stretched thin. He tucks the ends of his hair under a hat and flicks the lights off. 

Alluka slides a wrapped pancake across the counter as he walks in. “Did you remember to put your contacts in?” she asks, plating a pancake for herself. 

“Slept with them in. I’ll take them out next time.” 

“You know you’re not supposed to do that, Brother. Having them in for too long could be dangerous.”

“Having my contacts in for a few extra hours isn’t going to affect me.” Killua allows himself a small smile at the sheer amount of chocolate chips oozing out of his pancake. “Thanks, Alluka. Have you heard anything from Nanika?”

“Nothing about our family, no.” She purses her lips and taps the edge of her plate with a fork absently. “Nanika’s doing a great job of hiding our presence, but she gets tired sometimes. Besides, they’ve been… really quiet lately. No movement at all.” She looks up at Killua. “It doesn’t even seem like they’ve been going out on missions. What do you think it could be?” 

“Not even Illumi?” 

Alluka shakes her head. “There are times that Nanika drops her surveillance, just for a little bit… but otherwise, she hasn’t picked up on anything at all. Do you think-” she drops her voice to a whisper. “Maybe they’ve finally given up?”

Killua stares out the window. “I don’t believe that.” 

“Why not?”

“Because it isn’t possible .” His stomach is still tight with nervousness. He’s felt like something was off this entire time; it had been too quiet on Whale Island for the past few days. There was always a sense of silent tension in the kingdom - it bordered the Zoldycks after all, and everyone knew how dangerous it was to provoke the assassin family. But there had been no movement at all from Kukuroo Mountain, and the air was so unnaturally lax that Killua could choke on it. “They must be planning something huge for it to be this silent.”

His sister’s face tightens. “What do you think it could be?”

“A major assassination, probably. They did mention a big project before we left.” He stands up and pops the pancake into his mouth. “I have to go now. Be careful, okay? You and Nanika.” 

“Don’t worry about us!” Alluka says. She unties her apron and gives him a hug. “We’re gonna be okay. Nanika and I made a wish on a wishing star yesterday!” 

Killua lets out a huff of breath and pats her affectionately. “You know that sort of stuff doesn’t work, Alluka.”

Alluka just gives him a cheerful smile. “We’ll see,” she says confidently. “You’ve never proven that it doesn’t work.”

The knot in Killua’s chest unscrews ever so slightly. “You’re right as always,” he says with amusement. “Remember to stop by the grocery store, okay? We’re running out of eggs.” 

“Oh, shit - “ 

“Excuse me?” 

Alluka rolls her eyes and laughs. “I completely forgot about that. I’ll get them in a bit, I promise.” She squeezes him tightly. “I love you! See you later, brother.” 

“Love you too.” Killua flicks a lock of hair out of his face. “Lock the door behind me!” 

The air on Whale Island tastes like salt in the morning when the wind blows the smell of the ocean into the cities. He lets it settle on his tongue before taking off on a sprint, his feet finding the worn pathway in the dirt. He could get to the bus station faster - in fact, he probably should, he could be late - but Whale Island is so different from Kukuroo Mountain he can’t help but take his pace down a notch to look at the sweeping expanse of forest and beach of the kingdom. The biggest difference is that it’s warm all the time, even at night when it’s foggy and the rain is ice cold. Whale Island doesn’t have the same pervasive chill that he’s used to. 

“Hey, boy!” The bus driver yells. “You’re late today.”

He offers the older woman a short smile. “Mom made me breakfast today.” 

“That’s sweet of her.” She holds out a hand expectantly. “I’m sure you didn’t forget your change, though?”

Killua presses a coin into her palm and then wedges himself into a seat. The woman’s gaze prickles on his back. He can feel his fingernails sharpening warily. He’s never gotten along with old women at all. Alluka would yell at him if he gets his uniform dirty, though, and his employer - well. He rolls his eyes at the sky and stares out the murky window as the driver starts the bus with a splutter of smoke.

There’s nothing threatening about this woman. She’s just annoying. Being a pest and being a target are two different things, he’s learned. He can ignore pests. Not everything has to be eliminated. He lets the stiff line of his fingers relax and adjusts his uniform needlessly. 

They’ve been on Whale Island for a few months now. They spent the first month huddled in a cove by the beach. Nanika had used up a lot of energy getting them out of Kukuroo Mountain and he’d often return from hunting to see Nanika rocking by the fire, her eyes swallowing the light of the flames. 

“Big brother, it’s cold,” she’d say. 

“I know,” he’d answer. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll protect you from now on.” 

“I’m not scared.” Nanika would look at him, a blank black slate of a smile spreading across her face, and she’d nudge her head into his hand. “We’re together!” 

And Killua would feel a lump in his throat that choked the smile from his face. He would adjust his expression before Nanika noticed and ruffle her hair gently. “You’re right. That’s all we need, isn’t it?” 

Killua touches his neck, the bus rattling under his feet, and takes a deep breath. We’re together. 

If he remembers correctly, they’re one jar of coins away from getting themselves a restaurant. Just a few more paychecks and he’ll be able to contact the Hunter Association to put down a deposit. He only needs to work a few more weeks before he can finally fulfill Alluka and Nanika - and his - dream.

The bus lurches to a stop and he quickly snakes his way to the front, offering the driver a slight nod before hopping off. He realizes moments later that his shoulders are still tense. He still hasn’t adjusted to warmer temperatures. The sun burns holes through his shirt. 

He had been dropped off at a little station with stairs leading down a natural cliffside to a town tucked into the side of the plateau. He turns to face the stairs only to notice he’s had one hand up to block the sun’s light from his eyes. Killua doesn’t remember raising his arm into that position.

One more jar. He clenches his fists in his pockets and hurries down the stairs, his shoes kicking up golden clouds of dust as he runs. 

“You’re late.” 

Killua closes the door behind him and reaches for his apron. “There’s five more minutes until opening.” He raises an eyebrow at Amori’s wrinkled uniform. “And you only got here just a little bit earlier, didn’t you? There’s crumbs on your shirt.” 

The older boy scoffs and flicks the nametag over Killua’s chest threateningly. “Watch your mouth, Milluki. I could get you fired, you know. My brothers and I run this restaurant.”

Killua waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, of course,” he drawls. “You know I’m the better chef out of the two of us.” 

“Milluki - “ 

He pushes his way out of the staffroom. There’s already a group of people lingering outside of the restaurant. He blinks when he sees a familiar head of blonde hair. 

“Kurapika?” he says. He props open the store door, ignoring Amori’s scandalized glare at the back of his head, and waves him in. “What are you doing here so early?” 

“Good morning, Milluki,” he says. He spares the large menu over the cashier a glance and pulls out a seat for himself. “Could you pour me a cup of coffee? I have something to tell you.” 

“Yeah, in a second - one of the tables is calling for a large order.”

Kurapika gives him a slight smile and turns to the newspaper in his hand. “Take your time.” 

One of the Amori brothers tosses him the receipt. He works half-consciously, only snapping back into focus when the heat of the fire roars too close to his wrist. Cooking is fun with Alluka - messing around in the kitchen, fudging the ratios of the ingredients to see what they could create, having a competition on who could make the wildest twist on a recipe - but jobs are monotonous and empty and he barely processes the repetitive actions. 

“You know Prince Gon’s hosting a ball tomorrow night, right?” A girl chatters, her flow of words only pausing slightly to toss him a tip for the order. 

“What?” One of her companions gasps. They reach for the plates balanced carefully on Killua’s hands. “No way. We haven’t seen him in public for years. What brings him out here?”

“It must be Neon Nostrade. She’s the closest to royalty that Whale Island has other than the Freecss - and her father is loaded . No one knows how he got that much money.” 

Killua pauses for a moment. He had heard of the heir of the Freecss Kingdom before. After the original king vanished into thin air, Mito Freecss had assumed the throne and raised her nephew by herself. The prince was rarely seen outside of the safety of the palace grounds. 

He removes the receipt taped to the table and goes back to the counter, where he pulls out a mug and fills it to the brim with coffee. He pulls out a chair beside Kurapika and slides the cup across the table.

“So,” Killua says. “What’s this about?”

Kurapika scans his newspaper one more time before folding it neatly. He takes a sip of the coffee, evidently immune to its scalding temperature, and drums his fingers on the table contemplatively. “Prince Gon, hm?” he says, casting a glance at the table Killua had just served. “Your customers are certainly excited.”

Killua narrows his eyes. “You’re way too perceptive for a random businessman on his way to work.”

His friend looks at him innocently over the edge of his mug. “Says you. You should really work on that cover story of yours, you know.”

Killua cracks a smile. “Looks like you’re reading quite the interesting article.” He pours himself a cup of coffee before sitting down across from him. “Neon Nostrade… sounds familiar, doesn’t it? A connection of yours, if I remember right.” 

“Of course it’d sound familiar, Master Milluki,” Kurapika says, smiling airily when Killua stiffens at the title. Kurapika is surprisingly sassy for someone so careful and introverted, and today exceeds any level of mischief Killua has seen him display. He must have something important in mind. “You’ve probably seen their names crop up in your hit list a few times.” 

Killua raises a nonchalant shoulder. “If I had, they would be dead by now. Mother did brief me on some big names in the country; perhaps that’s where I saw them.” 

“Careful with what you say.”

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.” Killua takes an experimental sip of his coffee and immediately reaches for the sugar packets. “What is it that’s making you so talkative today? What do you want from me?” 

Kurapika’s smile doesn’t slip, but his expression does become more serious. For all of his sarcasm, he has never taken Killua lightly. “It’s not a request as much as an opportunity,” he says. “Light Nostrade has been arranging a ball for his daughter and the Freecss heir for months now. He wanted to recruit only the highest ranked chefs in the world, but Mito Freecss insisted on making the event more…” he pauses as he watches Killua stir an alarming amount of sugar into his drink with a wrinkle in his brow. “More down to earth, I suppose. She takes great pride in Whale Island’s common people.” 

Killua blinks slowly. “Interesting.” 

“Is that surprising?”

“You didn’t grow up under my father.” 

“True.” Kurapika slides his newspaper across the table and taps the article on the front page. There’s a large square photo of a boy with spiky hair and bright hazel eyes. “That’s Gon. He’s your age.” 

Killua spares the picture a glance. “I know that,” he says as he reaches for another packet of sugar. “He was a frequent topic of conversation between my parents and I. Illumi, too.” 

“Hey, Milluki!” One of the Amori brothers barks from the kitchen. “Get back to work!” 

Before Killua can respond, Kurapika shakes his head. “I need a favor from him, manager. Is it okay if I borrow him for a second?” 

Amori throws Killua a glare before returning to the kitchen. Kurapika turns back to face him. “With that aside,” he says. “Here’s my offer: her Highness asked some people to recruit their favorite chefs and bakers from different regions in Whale Island. The ball is tonight. Do you want to go?”

“Me?” Killua scoffs. “I’m just a homeless kid scrabbling for coins. Why would you ask me?”

Kurapika scribbles a number on the corner of the newspaper. “You’ll be well paid.”

Killua stares at him. 

“It’ll be enough to get you your restaurant. I know you’re already close to your goal, but this’ll cut your time down entirely.”

Killua looks back down at the sum. It isn’t the most he’s seen - people pay more for assassination jobs than baker positions, after all - but it’s almost ridiculous. It’s… more than enough to get him and his sisters a restaurant.

“Are you seriously trying to bribe me now?”

“No,” Kurapika says. “Because I have nothing personal to gain from you getting a good opportunity. I’m doing this for you, Killua.”

Killua’s back stiffens. He resists the urge to look around. “And why would you do that?” he challenges.

Kurapika gives him a leveled look. “Because I’m your friend.” 

“You’re not making any sense, Kurapika.” 

His friend sighs and rubs at his forehead. “I know your cooking, Killua, and I know what the prince likes,” he says. “If you attend the ball, you’d catch their attention for sure. But because I know you don’t want to make an impression on the royal family, I can arrange a less conspicuous invitation. Just know you’ll still be paid well either way.” He drains his cup of coffee and waves to a passing waiter for a refill. “I want Alluka to get what she wants as much as you do.” 

Killua props his chin on his hand and gives Kurapika a wary look. Even to people he dislikes, Kurapika isn’t one for lying. 

“How do you expect this to work?”

“I can get you a suit,” Kurapika answers. He’s clearly been thinking this over for a while. Killua is equal parts immensely grateful and confused. “Instead of being someone who presents their food to the banquet, you’ll be entered anonymously with my seal of recommendation. You’ll only have to attend to pass out the food like a vendor during the dancing portion of the night.” 

“And the money?”

“I’ll pay it up front. I have the check with me.” 

“You thought I’d agree right off the bat?”

Kurapika lets out an amused breath. “Only partially,” he admits. “I know it’s a risk for you, but I had other cards prepared.” 

Killua doesn’t like the sound of that. “Like what?”

“I told Alluka yesterday,” he says. He picks up his cup primly. “If I didn’t convince you, I was going to have her talk to you.”

Killua’s jaw drops. “You’re evil.” 

“I’m your friend. That’s different.” 

“Is there really a difference?” Killua mutters. He sips at his coffee gloomily. “This must be why Illumi killed off all the kids around me.” 

Kurapika blinks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Killua says. “That’s all in the past. What time do I need to be at the venue? Is there anything I have to do?” 

“Be there by seven,” Kurapika says. “They’ll provide supplies if needed, but you’ll have to bring rarer ingredients yourself. You can make whatever you want, but I suggested your baked desserts to them.” He shrugs unapologetically. “Sorry. If you want to switch to cooking, that’s fine.” 

“I’m not even a professional baker, though.” 

Kurapika’s lips lift slightly at the side. “I asked Alluka for her opinion.” 

“You two,” Killua says slowly. “I cannot believe you.”

“I know.”

“This is the greatest betrayal I’ve suffered.”

“Dramatic. Anyways, what do you say? Are you going to do it or not?” 

Killua sighs. “I’ll do it.” He takes the offered check and tucks it into his pocket. “This is an extremely roundabout way of saying you care about me. Is there any reason for that?” he says light-heartedly, expecting Kurapika to take it as a joke and volley some sarcastic retort back, but his friend looks at him impassively.

 “I do care about you,” Kurapika says simply. “You’re just not good at taking it to the face. You wouldn’t have let me offer it to you if I hadn’t roped Alluka in.” 

Words evaporate from Killua’s tongue. “You - idiot.” He restrains himself from kicking Kurapika under the table like a little kid. “If you already planned it out with her from the start, it wouldn’t have mattered when or how you told me.” 

Kurapika just gives him a reassuring smile and stands up. He tucks the newspaper into his pocket. “I’ll have Alluka pick up the suit from the market later this afternoon. Don’t be late, okay? Her Highness won’t be mean, but I’d hate to disappoint the queen herself.” 

“Right.” Killua pushes his chair in and stands to face him. “About that - you make the queen sound so lenient. Are you sure she’s running the kingdom right?”

“Are you worried because Whale Island doesn’t have a king?” 

“Far from it. It’s not about her gender; as far as I can tell, she’s been much better than the last king. It just seems so…” he hesitates. “It seems so nice. Looking for talent beyond the nobles, offering that much money to a stranger - how does that even work?”

Kurapika scans his face. “Whale Island is a lot different from Kukuroo Mountain, Killua,” he says gently. “You were right when you said we didn’t grow up under your parents.” 

Killua presses his hand into the side of his leg until he feels his skin bruise. He lets out a breath. “Seven tonight,” he promises. “I’ll be there.”

Gon lets out a satisfied sigh and lets the water run down his chin, holding his collar out slightly so it doesn’t soak into his clothes. It’s hotter in this area of Whale Island and the luxurious but stiff material of royal cloth doesn’t help. He takes another sip of water and looks around the plaza. 

There’s a lot of people outside under the battering heat of the sun. It’s mostly commoners and peasants from the countryside; he sees a few people clad in rich dresses and suits, but not as many as the capital. It’s around lunchtime and he can feel his stomach starting to growl with hunger. 

“Excuse me!” he calls. He adjusts his sunglasses so they’re firmly over his face and waves to a woman walking past the fountain, jumping off his perch to stand in front of her directly. “Do you know of any cheap dining places in the area? I forgot to pack a snack before heading out.” 

She stops and stoops slightly to his level. “Of course, little boy. If you go down that street, there’s a small bakery two buildings to the right. They also have drinks and salads, if those interest you.” 

“Okay, thanks!” Gon kisses her on the hand swiftly before bounding off in the direction she had pointed in. He digs in his pocket and finds a few coins. He’s not really sure how much it can get him, but from what Kurapika had told him, it wasn’t very much. He walks up to the store and gazes at the large menu plastered on its glass front. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs contemplatively to himself. “I have three 100 jenny coins and a 25 jenny coin. If I spend 250 jenny on a sandwich, then… What’s 325 minus 250?” He scratches his head and sighs. “I wish Kurapika was here.” 

He glances across the square. The sun is high in the sky, reflecting like white flicks of paint off the building windows. With his hair down and glasses covering half of his face, no one has recognized him yet. 

Although being without guards is startlingly inconvenient, it’s also freeing. Since Ging’s disappearance, Mito insisted on keeping Gon away from the further, more dangerous parts of the island. The last time he stepped into town for the single purpose of having fun was when he was much younger and things like princely responsibilities and royal etiquette didn’t really apply to him. 

Gon lets out a breath and enters the restaurant, the bell tied to the handle bouncing off his hand with a rusty clang. 

The woman behind the counter gives him a quick, warm welcome before disappearing behind the counter. If she notices the massive sunglasses on his face, she doesn’t mention it. He looks around the small bakery. The faded wooden walls are adorned with gentle lights with patterned shades. He walks past one that casts constellations on the ground, his eyes still adjusting to the lower light levels, and places two of his coins on the counter. 

“Could I have the Whale Island special?” he asks. “The one with the sandwich and the lemonade.” 

“One second, please.” 

He wanders over to an empty table and sits down. There’s a newspaper in the center of the table and he unfolds it curiously, skimming through the endless pages of text. On the front page is an article about the ball. There’s a photo of him in his royal outfit, his stiff hair pushed back to allow room for a crown. Neon Nostrade stands next to him and he squints at her grainy expression, trying to remember her from their photoshoot. She had bright blue hair, if he remembers right. Her personality was bubbly and lightweight, but in the end she was only interested in their marriage so she and her father’s meager amount of royal blood would be recognized by other kingdoms. Gon rubs at his forehead. Politics were never his strong suit. 

From what Aunt Mito had told him, Ging had chosen his wife politically too, although she was never actually seen in public. She was long forgotten by the time Gon was born. By the time Ging left the kingdom to Mito, she wasn’t real enough for even a campfire legend. Whale Island was left with the cousin of the king and a boy who could barely walk.

For all the happy endings in the fairytales Aunt Mito had read him, marriage seemed more restraining than romantic. 

The woman places down his order in front of him. “Reading the newspaper, young man?” she asks. “I suppose you’re as excited for the ball as the rest of us.”

Gon startles. “Yeah, I guess!” he says. “It’s.. definitely exciting, isn’t it?”

She nods vigorously. “For a country with so many exciting tourist locations, the lack of entertainment for its people is deplorable,” she says. “Queen Mito rarely holds events like this, much less ones for the prince. I suppose you’ll be following the news on television?”

“Yeah, I will, with my aunt.” The lemonade is cold and bright in his throat, and he presses the icy glass to his forehead with a satisfied sigh. “You know, about the marriage between Prince Gon and Lady Neon - what do you think about it?”

“Light Nostrade’s business is certainly beneficial to the kingdom at an economic level, especially because some of the other countries have such strong bargaining chips. And Neon is a pretty enough girl, I’m sure her children will be - oh, this must be going over your head, young man,” she says apologetically. “To simplify, the Nostrades are well liked and a good match for the royal family. Besides, they have enough royal blood in them from their ancestors that they’ll fit in perfectly fine with the rest of the upper court.” 

Gon mulls over the words slowly. “I don’t really understand that,” he says thoughtfully, “but what about… the romantic part about marriage?” 

The storekeeper laughs. “Romantic?”

“Isn’t marriage supposed to be romantic? Like the princess and the prince, or the damsel in distress and the knight..”

“I suppose you really are as young as you look,” she says, clapping him on the back heartily. “Truly romantic marriages rarely exist in the royal families, you know. In fact - don’t go looking for love in a marriage. Take it from someone who’s been in one for twenty years. It’s nothing more than a chain around your ankles, you know?”

“That’s not very nice…” 

She sighs. “I suppose it’s not, but that’s just how it is.” The light cast shadows in the worn wrinkles on her face. “The people who are most in love are the ones that don’t care about how it’s defined. Dating, romantic, platonic, marriage, divorce - who cares.” She waves a dismissive hand. “You’re at the age to be looking at girls, hm? Maybe boys, too?” 

Gon pokes at the ice in his drink. “It doesn’t matter much to me. I haven’t given it too much thought.” 

She looks pleasantly surprised. “Really? That’s lucky. People think of love like it’s a competition, like there’s a start or finish line.” She scoffs. “Ridiculous, really. Would you like me to wrap that up? You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“Oh - yeah, sure, thank you,” Gon says, handing her his plate. “What happens if Prince Gon or Lady Neon doesn’t want to get married? Is that bad for the kingdom?” 

She purses her lips. “In a sense, it would be bad,” she says. “Politically, it might look weak. And with how trigger-happy the Zoldycks are, any sign of weakness could go badly. But Queen Mito is much kinder than most, and I trust her.” She gives Gon a reassuring smile. “I’m sure the prince and lady will be able to choose what is best for them.” 

“You really think so?” 

“I do.” She hands him his packaged sandwich. “They might be kids, but I think that’s the good part of being young - feelings are so much easier to sort out the sooner you experience them. There’s a point in your life when your sense of empathy just rots away. It’s tiring caring for people.” 

Gon frowns. “That can’t be true. You’re telling me all of this, aren’t you?”

Her hand freezes over the table for a moment before she lets out a gentle laugh. “Maybe,” she says. “You’re interesting, aren’t you? You could teach the world a thing or two.” The shopkeeper squeezes his shoulder firmly. “Have a wonderful day, young man.” 

“You too,” Gon says softly, and he leaves the last of his change on the table. The sun is a blinding golden lantern in the middle of the sky. 

The excitement of the ball overflows through the houses and onto the streets, with celebrations bursting to life across every block. Gon easily blends into the street performers and dancers. He hasn’t had this much fun in a while, laughs bursting through his throat like fireworks, and he stumbles out of an enthusiastic performance with people pushing coins and water into his hand. He pulls himself away from the crowd and wipes at his face. 

“Hey,” he says through heaving breaths to a brightly dressed man next to him. “Does this happen all the time?”

The man hands him an icy water bottle and he gulps thankfully from it. “Not at this level, no,” he says. There’s a bright spark in his eyes. “But we do have dances often. You should see the celebrations during the holidays.”

There weren’t many children in the palace. Gon, Aunt Mito, and her grandmother were the last of the Freecss, and were usually kept under heavy guard. Kurapika was the only outsider who could go in and out of the palace without an appointment. It wasn’t a bad place - Mito provided him with anything he needed and took him outside during holidays on her own - but the palace walls were tall and as he grew up with them, he realized how stiflingly lonely it was having no one else by his side to fill the space.

He bids the man farewell and pulls out his phone. Kurapika rarely texts back within the same day, so he’s surprised to see his messages have gotten responses. 

Kurapika: Queen Mito doesn’t want to force you to do anything. She’s not the greatest fan of the Nostrades, to be honest. 

It’s still unclear where Light Nostrade made his money. I’m not even entirely sure, despite being under his patronage. 

Just know that your aunt has been doing an excellent job as queen. And remember that you’re not even an adult yet. Try not to worry about these things too much. 

I’ll see you at the ball tonight. Don’t be late, and remember to shower before. I bet you’re all covered in mud from the festivities by now. 

Gon imagines Kurapika wrinkling his nose delicately at the thought and manages a smile. He’s known Kurapika for years now and the only thing that has changed since when they first met was the fury in his eyes. His friend had been spiteful, his fingers rubbed raw with rage and fear and the hatred of a cornered animal. He remembers looking down the silver blade of a knife, Kurapika’s eyes scarlet red, the way Aunt Mito started forward when Kurapika’s fists started to tremble. He let them take him to the palace, eventually, and he’d grown up there since. They never ended up finding all of the Kurta eyes. 

Kurapika has always been much taller than him, but at some point Gon stopped looking up and instead turned straight ahead, where Kurapika was always waiting for him. He hates the idea of having to look down on him. Kurapika was never meant to be below him. 

Gon: Kurapika, don’t you think you’d make a better king? 

A grey typing indicator fades into view at the bottom of his screen. A second later, his phone chimes softly. 

Kurapika: I have no royal blood, Gon. I couldn’t be king. Besides, I have faith in you. You care about people, at the very least. 

He lets out a breath. “That’s not what I meant, though,” he murmurs. 

A cold hand drops onto his shoulder. 

Gon jumps and attempts to turn around, but the stranger’s grip is as unyielding as steel. He can hear the faint sound of clattering coming from them. It sounds like candy in a tin box. The person pulls him around to face him. 

“Hello, Gon Freecss,” the man says. He’s so tall he blots the sun from Gon’s view. His face is pale and angular, needles with rounded yellow tips sticking out of the sides. The entire top half of his body seems to vibrate with movement, as if his ribs were rattling against each other. “Would you like your fortune read?”

With effort, Gon grabs his hand and yanks it off his shoulder. His muscles throb with pain. “Do I know you?” he asks curiously. “How did you know my name?” 

The man’s head jerks painstakingly to look directly at him. A plume of shocking purple hair seethes out from the top of his skull. “I am Gittarackur,” he says. His voice is flat and empty. “I know there are things you want. I can grant them to you.” 

Gon looks up at him. “What do you mean?” 

Gittarackur snaps his clawed fingers together and suddenly they’re on the tree overlooking the pond in the palace grounds, moss dripping from its ancient branches. Between them is a small card table, with needles fanned out in front of Gon. 

“How did you do that?” Gon says. “Did you teleport? Is that a sort of power you have? Hey, Gittarackur-san! Can you do magic?”

“It’s not magic,” Gittarackur chatters. “It’s Nen.” 

“Nen?” 

He picks up one needle and the top of it bursts into purple flame. “All living creatures are born with life force - or aura, as we call it,” he explains. “Nen is the ability to manipulate aura to your usage. I am able to tell fortunes with my Nen. You are the prince of the Freecss Kingdom, aren’t you?”

Gon rubs the back of his neck. “I am, yeah,” he says. “But you must have already known that. Why are you asking me? Besides, aren’t there always guards around the pond? Why is it empty right now?”

Gittarackur pauses. Something passes across his glassy eyes for a second. “You wish to be free,” he says instead. “You don’t want to be king after your aunt, do you? There is much more to see in the world past Whale Island. They say there’s a Dark Continent, a place past the countries and kingdoms where monsters as tall as the mountains live and thrive. Only the best Nen users are able to go there.” His blank gaze is dark and consuming. “Your father probably went there.” 

Gon’s heart stops in his chest. It tumbles down into his stomach, cold seeping into his fingers, and then rushes back all at once. 

“Ging?” he almost shouts. “My father? Do you think he went there?”

“For a Nen user as powerful as King Freecss, it would only make sense to explore the only part of the earth that is still untouched,” Gittarackur says. “If you were able to travel away from the kingdom and become more powerful, perhaps you’d find him.” He looks into Gon’s eyes. “Isn’t that what you want?” 

“Yes, but - “

Gittarackur holds out a handful of needles. “Pick one, then.” 

“Pick…?” 

“I will read your fortune from these. Take one. They have different levels of aura in them.” 

Gon squints at the bright needles. He can feel varying amounts of pressure radiating off of them, like a barrier made of half-solidified concrete. He picks one that pushes up against his fingers slightly, and hands it to Gittarackur. The man gives the needle a glance and then sets it on fire. He tosses it into the pond. 

“You want to catch bigger prey,” Gitarrackur says. “You want to find people that excite you, who will dance with you every night. People who will challenge you and compete with you.” Gittarackur takes the rest of the needles and they disintegrate in his hand. “You want to know what love is,” he continues blandly. “Typical, but a powerful wish because of its unoriginality. An absent mother and father. You want to understand what makes love so appealing.” 

Gon’s throat is dry. “How did you…?”

“I can give it to you,” Gitarrackur says. “I can give you your escape. Once you’re outside of the palace, the whole world is at your feet. You can find anything you want. You can define anything you want.” 

“Hold on,” Gon says, backing up towards the trunk of the tree. He can feel his heartbeats against the back of his teeth. “Why would you.. Who are you? Have I met you before? 

Gittarackur’s head shakes violently. “That doesn’t matter,” he says. “Do you accept my proposal?”

“I don’t know,” Gon says doubtfully. “What is it that you’re giving me? Money?”

“I can get you the green you need, yes.” 

Gon blinks. “The green? Mr. Gittarackur, no one says that anymore.” 

The man makes a displeased clanking noise. “Do you accept or not?” 

The wind lashes across Gon’s face. There’s a strong breeze, fat grey clouds gathering across the sky, but the surface of the pond barely ripples. He frowns. “Gittarackur-san,” he starts. “Don’t I have to pay you something? You told my fortune, after all.” 

“Your blood.”

“My.. my what?” 

“Just a drop of your blood,” Gitarrackur says. “That’s all I need.” 

The garden is quiet. Gon can’t even hear the buzzing of flies or the splash of fish under the lily pads. Unease crawls up his spine. “I don’t get what you mean.” 

Gittarackur doesn’t blink. In fact, his eyes haven’t moved at all. 

Gon opens his mouth. “This isn’t the pond. Where is this place?” 

Before he can finish his sentence, Gittarackur picks up a needle and throws it just past his finger, blood budding to life at the cut. The weapon embeds itself into the tree with such force the bark cracks and crumbles around it. Swinging around its tip is a small, black talisman. 

“You’re surprisingly perceptive,” Gittarackur says. There’s a sudden, fuller timbre in his voice. He sounds more human and less robot now, although his toneless way of speaking doesn’t change. “I suppose I’ll get this over myself. Stay still, will you?”

Gon kicks his hand out of the way and swings under the branch, clambering towards the trunk. He jumps towards the water but his instincts scream wrong, wrong way, no, not here - and he hits something as solid as metal, pain shooting up his leg. Above him, Gittarackur lets out a sigh. His hair has grown longer and collapses around his shoulder. 

“You move like a monkey - or like a frog, really,” Gittarackur says. His eyes are becoming wider and darker, purple Nen gathering around his hands like smoke. Gon squints up at him through a haze of red. “Perhaps we’ll change you into that.” He takes the talisman and throws it into the air. “Contract - activate .” 

A voice pierces into Gon’s head, painful and sinister. This isn't right , he thinks, and his vision goes black before he can squeeze it out of his forehead. 

There’s a cracked mirror leaning against Killua’s bed frame. He props it up and steps back to look at himself in it. He chews on his lip, dissatisfied, and turns around in a circle. 

“Hey, Alluka,” he calls. “Don’t you think this suit is a little big?”

She turns away from the window and gives him a critical look. “Of course it does. Kurapika’s taller than you.” 

“Didn’t he say this was from when he was younger? The sleeves are so long.” 

“He has longer limbs,” Alluka says. “Just roll the ends up slightly. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” 

Killua adjusts the shoulders of the suit jacket. “If the Freecss are anything like the Zoldycks, it won’t be.” he mutters. 

Alluka clicks her tongue. “Now, now,” she says. There’s a smear of frosting on her cheek. “You  know that’s not true. Kurapika has told you that much. Besides, you’re just presenting during the dance.” 

“I haven’t forgiven you for teaming up with him, by the way. What happened to sibling loyalty? I hope Nanika gave you a good talking-to.” 

“Oh, she helped us. She was on board from the start.”

Killua stares at his reflection forlornly. “There really is no trust left in this relationship.” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” Alluka says, but there’s a laugh buried under her disapproving tone. “You’ve gotten so immature since we escaped. You should hurry up and start packing your supplies.” 

“Right - “ he adjusts his suit one last time. “I was going to ask you if you could get them ready for me. I need to talk to the Hunter Association about renting a place. The check Kurapika gave me was more than enough to start that process.” He sits down on his bed and reaches for his shoes. “While I’m doing that, just get everything set up and get dressed. Kurapika will help take us to the venue.” 

Alluka’s brow furrows with confusion. “I’m not going, brother,” she says. “What are you talking about?” 

“What do you mean you’re not going?” 

“I’m not going to the ball,” she repeats. “I’ll go to the Hunter Association myself.”

Killua frowns. “You’ve always wanted to go to a ball. I asked Kurapika to help pick you a dress for this.” 

“I don’t need to go to this one,” Alluka says. ‘Besides, brother, I can’t let you handle everything by yourself. You’ve been working two full-time jobs everyday for months. Just use this opportunity to relax.” 

“It’s a royal ball, I’m not going to be relaxing,” Killua says. “Besides, this could be the last ball we’re ever invited to.” 

“I don’t want you worrying about me there.” 

“That’s - Why would it be that? I’m worried about you no matter what.” 

Alluka gives him a look. “You overthink way too much. All I want you is for you to have this night to yourself.” She moves a pale white curtain away from her face to look out Killua’s bedroom window better. There’s a wistful look in her eyes that’s dyed orange and pink from the setting sun. “I know you’re worried about the Freecss’ noticing you, but Nanika’s still protecting us from our family. Just do something you enjoy tonight.” 

Killua snorts. “Something I enjoy… dodging the glances of Zoldyck contacts? Pretending to be polite to every Botox-stiffened lady that totters by my table? It seems like a bore, honestly.”

“You like baking,” Alluka points out. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

He lets out an exasperated breath and stands up from the bed. It’s odd that Alluka doesn’t want to go to the ball - outright refusing it, even. Aside from the restaurant, being able to attend a ball has been one of her longest dreams - she’d spend the meager amount of time she had with Killua waxing poetry about her dream dress and partner and all the food she wanted to try. But now she doesn’t move from the window, and there isn’t a single ounce of regret in her eyes.

“Alluka. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Of course not.”

“Nanika…”

“You’re not going to get anything out of Nanika.” Alluka crosses her arms proudly. “I will tell you this, though.” 

She leans in conspiratorially to whisper in his ear. “Nanika says that something will happen tonight,” she says. “Something good.” 

He gives her a skeptical look. “What makes her believe that?” 

“She has a good feeling about this. Besides, we wished on a shooting star last night. ” 

Killua doesn’t have the heart to prod at the matter any longer. He wraps his younger sister in a hug and rests his chin on the top of her hair. “Considering Kurapika’s practically dragging me to this,” he whispers, “I hope you two are right.” 

“You haven’t proved us wrong yet, brother.” 

“Mm, debatable, I did beat you in our cookie contest last weekend,” Killua says. “I told you that another egg would be necessary.” 

“Kurapika’s just biased.”

“Biased? Biased towards me ? If it was a choice between me and you, he’d punt me into the sun without a second thought.”

Alluka lets out a pearly laugh. “I’ll let you take the win this time.”

Killua rolls his eyes. “Sure, sure, thank you so much,” he says sarcastically, but he kisses her on the forehead fondly. “Is there anything you want from the ball? I’m sure Kurapika could let me smuggle something home in a napkin or something.” 

“A ball gown,” she says immediately. “You know, the one Nanika and I drew before we came here.” 

“I don’t think I can sneak that home in a napkin, Alluka.” 

She waves her hand. “I’m joking, don’t worry,” she says teasingly. “If there’s anything you think is good, just bring some home. We can try to replicate it together later in our - “ she pauses, and her smile widens. “In our new restaurant. Okay, brother?” 

Their new restaurant. Killua doesn’t resist the helpless, hopeful smile that spreads across his face as he pats her on the head. “Yeah, I’ll be back tomorrow to help with that process,” he says. “Have fun, Alluka. You too, Nanika.” 

He checks his suit one last time and closes the bedroom door squarely behind him. 

Killua has never been this close to the palace in his life. He had made sure that none of his jobs took him anywhere near the center of the kingdom, and his house was located far off on the tip of the island. It’s very different from what he had expected; it’s gently colored and shaped, with round spires rising from the corners of the property. He can catch the edges of a few balconies on its many columns, but it’s actually quite understated for the home of the royal family. He takes out his phone and dials Kurapika’s number.

His friend picks up after three rings. “Looks like you made it on time,” he comments. 

“Why do you make it sound like I’m always late?”

“You have a tendency to loiter. Especially if you have the time to talk to Alluka and Nanika.” 

Killua scoffs. “I’m an ex-assassin. I don’t loiter .” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” Kurapika says. His voice crackles over the speaker. He sounds like he’s running, although he’s not out of breath. Probably helping organize the inside of the palace, then. “You’re at the west entrance, right? I’ll meet you there.” 

Killua looks up at the arched gateway over his head. “Yeah, this is the west entrance. See you.”

His phone buzzes just as he ends the call. A notification from Alluka bubbles onto his screen. He swipes it open to see a picture of her posing in front of a building excitedly. 

Alluka: We got the place! 

At least, I think we did

I sent in an offer and so far there hasn’t been anyone else. They should get back to us by tomorrow morning!

Killua suppresses a proud smile. He sends a few enthusiastic stickers back before silencing his phone. He doesn’t need it ringing during the ball; no matter how small of a disturbance it’d be, he can’t risk drawing attention from other people. 

He senses someone approaching from behind him and turns to see Kurapika jogging towards him, his blonde hair pushed behind his ears to reveal silver earrings. “Hey,” he says, easily taking some of Killua’s supplies into hand. “You look good. Ignoring the rolled up sleeves.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Killua looks him up and down. “You look pretty good yourself. Nice red accents.” 

“Thank you, Milluki-san,” Kurapika says, raising his eyebrow slightly. Evidently, they’re too close to the palace to risk mentioning Killua by name anymore. “They’ll give you an hour to set anything up. I’d suggest preparing a few batches and setting them out right after they’ve cooled a little. Then you can just keep baking throughout the night.” 

Killua nods and looks up at the palace as they start moving in through the gateway. He’d been shown a diagram of it as a kid - there’d come a day where he’d get a job within the Freecss Kingdom, after all - but he hadn’t expected it to be so underwhelming. It wasn't badly designed or boring, but nothing about it boasted its royal status. 

Perhaps that’s what made it so comfortable. He only stiffens slightly at the body check right outside the inner gates. Kurapika catches the surprised look in his eyes and stifles a laugh. 

“It’s not what you were expecting, was it?” Kurapika says amusedly. 

“Not at all. When was it designed?”

“It was remodeled after the former king left. The queen said it was too extravagant for so few people.” Kurapika shifts his bags to one hand and gestures at the inside of the palace. “They left the interior fairly untouched because it’d take too long to remodel, but they got rid of some of the extended buildings and towers. The material got recycled for housing in the countryside.” 

Killua looks up at the tall ceiling with surprise. “It did? That must have taken a long time.”

“It took a few years. The queen and her nephew ended up taking residence in a seaside house on the edge of the property.” Kurapika smiles slightly. “Everyone was against it, but somehow those years passed peacefully. I can take you and your sisters out there someday.” 

It’s a strange offer to propose to the ex-heir of the Freecss’ greatest enemy. “Thanks,” he says dryly. “I don’t think people would be very welcome to the idea, though.”

“It’s not like we have to tell anyone.” 

Killua squints at him. “You’re being awfully reckless today. Have anything to tell me?” 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just fun to tease you.” 

“Did Nanika or Alluka say something?”

“Why do you always think it’s your sisters?”

A man in a tight black suit opens the door to a side room for them. “Who else could it be?” Killua asks. “I won’t nag you too much about it today, though. They’re applying for an offer on the building right now.” 

“Thank the gods,” Kurapika deadpans, but there’s an indulgent smile on his face as he helps place Killua’s supplies down on a large table. The room is constructed like a series of identical kitchens mashed together to form stations. Killua counts twenty tables. They’re made of metal, with a sink and stove on one side. There are ovens, microwaves, and refrigerators installed into the tile walls. 

“Twenty?” he says. “That’s it?”

“There’s another room for the banquet chefs,” Kurapika says. “I have to go to the main hall. Will you be alright on your own?”

Killua gives him a stiff nod and the older boy closes the kitchen doors behind him. He had expected an air of competitiveness in the air - the setup looks similar to a television contest, after all - but many of the chefs look relaxed and at ease, chattering over the sound of cooking. The noise grates on his ears. He grits his teeth and pulls out his ingredients. It’s just one night, he tells himself. On his table is a delicate mask, probably one of Kurapika’s ideas to maintain his anonymity. He pulls it over his eyes and starts baking. 

In an hour or so the doors are pushed open again and their food is collected and set up by waiters in white and gold. Half-hidden by a towering collection of pastries, Killua is escorted out of the side room and into the hallway leading to the entrance of the ballroom. The door swings open quietly.

“Thank you for all making it here, esteemed chefs,” Kurapika says, his voice just loud enough for them to hear him over the music of a string quartet. He holds the door open a crack, allowing light to spill across the floor in front of them. “We’re about to enter the dancing segment of the ball, so we’ll be setting up just before the queen brings her guests back from a tour of the palace gardens.” he points in the direction where he had entered from. “Just think of it as a festival. People will stop by your stands and try your food. This new type of setting has already been explained to the partygoers, so you don’t have to worry about etiquette changes..” He smiles kindly. “I hope you enjoy yourself. Please call on me or the waiters should you have any questions. 

“Thank you, Lord Kurapika,” the chefs chorus quietly. Killua catches Kurapika looking at him smugly and rolls his eyes. He knows he’s supposed to be respectful to him here - Kurapika is, by relation, a high-ranking official - but it’s hard to do that when he’s seen Kurapika passed out on his couch with cookie crumbs on his immaculate jacket. He stifles a smile. He’s enjoying this a little too much for his comfort. 

Kurapika pushes open the door for them, waiters waiting to assist them with their stands. Kurapika gestures with his hand that they can start moving out. When Killua passes him, he reaches out a hand to adjust his mask quickly. 

“Watch your hair,” Kurapika says quietly.
Killua swipes a hand across his bangs so they’re tucked to the side. “Thanks.” 

The room is empty, probably to let them get set up, and he picks a spot where he can see as many of the other people as possible - just a few feet away from the entrance. The walls are pale and adorned with carved decorations and flowers hung elegantly from baskets. On his left and right, arched windows starting from the floor and stretching upwards let in dimples of golden light from the setting sun. The furthest wall in the rectangular room has double doors, almost as grand as the entrance, that are thrown open to reveal a large balcony space that overlooks the ocean. There’s a set of stairs to the right of the balcony and Killua can hear people moving up it, their footsteps muffled by the sound of their laughter. 

The queen is so much shorter in person than she appears on screen. Between the good amount of space between the top of her head and the door and her surprisingly simple dress (Killua appreciates the fact that she had forgoed on a massive hoop skirt and stuck to something gentler instead) she looks like she should be in college instead of running a kingdom. The only thing that distinguishes her from the rest of her partygoers is the confident, elegant angle of her back and the crown nestled securely in her hair. 

Fluidly, all twenty chefs step to the side of their stands and bow sharply. “Good evening, Your Majesty,” they chant. 

There’s no sign of the prince anywhere, although Killua catches a glimpse of Neon Nostrade’s bright blue hair. He lowers his gaze to the floor and stops his hand from clenching on his knee involuntarily. 

It’s been months since he’s been so close to royalty. He’s one good glance away from being recognized as a Zoldyck, and then it’ll all be over. 

The queen lets out a reproachful sound and quickly waves them to their feet. “Please, that’s not necessary,” she says. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I understand this might be a little bit strange, but please don’t worry about anything. This is supposed to be more casual.” She rolls her eyes, but the movement is fond. “My nephew is something else.” 

Neon Nostrade bounces into the middle of the ballroom and looks around. “Wow, Queen Mito!” she exclaims. “Where’d you get these chefs from? I’ve never seen them in those cooking magazines.” 

Everyone in the room winces slightly. 

“Honey,” a voice says sharply. Killua looks through his eyelashes to see a thick-set man glare at the girl disapprovingly. “Don’t run ahead.” 

She frowns and kicks her feet up, displacing the many layers of her dress. “When is the prince going to be here? Daddy called the best clothing designers from Yorknew City for today’s dress. He is coming, right?” 

The queen laughs. “Don’t worry about it, Lady Neon,” she soothes. “He’ll be here soon. The dancing portion of the night has only just started, after all.” She turns to the rest of the nobles milling behind her and sweeps out a hand. “If you’d like to start indulging in some food before the banquet, then I won’t keep you any longer.” 

The awkward mood dissolves and Mito Freecss gestures to the string quartet to start playing again. The atmosphere of the dance is much lighter than usual. The open doors leading to the balcony, the festival-esque food stands and music, and the relaxed posture the queen takes on when talking with the partygoers all adds up to an almost informal setting for a pre-engagement ball. 

“You look stiff,” a baker to his left comments. “Mask and everything? You must have thought it was going to be an ultra-fancy sort of dance.” 

“I guess,” Killua mumbles. “It’s surprising.” 

“The queen is pretty unconventional, but that unconventional streak of hers saved my family from homelessness.” They pause to serve a little boy in a fitted suit before turning back to him with a crooked smile. “You must be new to the island if you think we do masquerade balls. Those are only during Halloween. Don’t worry too much.” 

The skin on his hands is prickling. He clenches his fingers once, and then presses a tight, polite smile to his face, forcibly relaxing his hands. 

“Thanks,” he says. “I guess I stressed too much. I didn’t want to be too informal, like the celebrations in town. Better safe than sorry.” 

The baker hums. “True that. But have fun, okay? Don’t be so uptight.” 

Killua turns back to his platter of cakes. “Sure,” he says under his breath. A bitter note of sarcasm sharpens the edge of his tone. “That’ll work out.”

He tenses and almost jumps backwards as the entrance doors are flung open so powerfully it whisks the powdered sugar off of his pastries. Across the floor, Mito Freecss gasps in surprise, and then shakes her head in exasperation. 

“Gon!” she exclaims. In a single motion, everyone in the ballroom turns to look towards the door, heads swiveling as if on puppet strings. “What did I say about being on time?”

“Sorry I’m late!” a high, bubbly voice answers, and the prince of Whale Island enters the ballroom.

Killua tells himself he’s committing the prince to memory for the purpose of telling Alluka and Nanika about him later. That’s it. Nothing else. If he tells himself that enough, he’ll believe it eventually. 

But for all of the royal etiquette that was beaten and stomped into him before he could even see over the armchair of his father’s throne, he can’t stop staring. 

Gon Freecss is painfully bright. His suit is slightly wrinkled at the shoulders and his hair, spiked up at a ridiculous angle, is slightly messy at the edges, but his blatant flagrations of conduct pale in comparison to how sunny he is. There’s no other word to describe it. His presence itself is a moving ball of light. Ignoring the way the chefs all fall to their knees at his entrance, he bounds over to his aunt. 

“Aunt Mito!” he says, and claps his hands together apologetically. “I’m really sorry. I forgot to set a reminder to come home early so I got back late and then Melody got mad at me because I stained my socks.” 

The queen lets out a breath. “And why were your socks stained?”

There’s a pause, and then the prince rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I went through the garden so I could get to my room faster.”

“Is that why there were footprints around the rose bushes? You could have scratched yourself!”

“I jumped over the thorns, don’t worry.” 

Mito Freecss opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, and then sighs and pats her nephew on the shoulder firmly. “Never mind that,” she says. “What I want to know is if you’ll remember your manners and greet your guests properly.” 

“I’m Gon Freecss!” he shouts promptly and sinks into a respectful bow. “Pleased to meet you!” 

There’s a beat of stunned silence, and then Neon Nostrade laughs. “See, this is why I like you!” she says. Her impatient expression from before disappears into exaggerated adoration. “You’re so funny , Prince Gon.” 

Gon doesn’t move to pry her off his arm and Killua has to commend his patience. “Thank you, Lady Nostrade!” he says cheerfully. “Do you like, want to dance or something? Or get something to eat? Aunt Mito said she invited a lot of new chefs so I bet there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t tried yet!” 

The prince of Whale Island missing out on the local cuisine? Killua almost laughs. He looks genuinely excited to try something new, though. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he looks around at the stands and catches sight of the cakes at Killua’s stand. Before he can blink, the prince attaches himself to his side and points at the food eagerly. 

“This looks really good,” he says. “Could I take a few?”

Thirty-three freckles and counting. And that’s just the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Killua says, blinking rapidly. His breath comes out of his chest awkwardly. “Thank you, Prince Gon. I’m honored.” 

In the space between his first breath and the next, the prince grabs a napkin and scoops up a few pastries into his hand. He’s fast and full of motion. He’s almost hard to follow with the eyes so Killua isn’t surprised by the way everyone stops what they’re doing to watch him, enraptured by his sheer exuberance. Gon Freecss seems to notice the silence that followed his arrival so he jolts back into the middle of the room and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Um, right!” he says. “Please continue with whatever - “

Mito Freecss gives him a pointed look. 

“Please continue with your festivities,” he amends. “And thank you for coming tonight.” 

He gives the string quartet an enthusiastic thumbs-up and as if compelled by a spell, they instantly ready their instruments and burst into a fast-paced waltz number. Without realizing it, Killua lets out a breath he had been holding in his lungs and relaxes.

There’d been no sign of recognition in the prince’s eyes - no alarm, no suspicion, just keen interest in the baked goods laid out in front of him. If the heir to the throne wasn’t able to pinpoint him as a Zoldyck, then there shouldn’t be too much to worry about. 

The party is whisked back into motion. He closes his eyes and lets his training take over. Just a few more hours, and he’ll be out of here. He’s done worse. This is nothing.

“Hey, Kurapika!” Gon whispers loudly, catching his arm as they spin past each other and dragging him to a corner of the dance floor. “Do you remember like... what I’m supposed to do with Neon?”

“Gon - Prince Gon, what do you mean?” Kurapika says. He can feel a headache starting to form between his eyes. He resists the urge to sigh. 

“I kind of forgot which dance we were gonna do…”

Kurapika gives the ceiling a long, tired look. “It’s the one you learned last month, Your Highness,” he says. “Melody spent a long time teaching you. The traditional Whale Island waltz, right?”

“Oh!” Gon says, smacking his fist into his palm. “Right. Thanks, Kurapika! Isn’t this cool? I kind of like the setup of this ball. The other ones were really boring and my legs would get tired after hours of standing around. And - “

There’s something off with the prince today. Kurapika had noticed it a while ago when he first entered the ballroom - but this isn’t how Gon normally acts. He barely fidgets as he talks. He’s inattentive and flighty but it’s like he’s conserving his movement, his footsteps landing quietly on the floor. He doesn’t object to Kurapika’s use of his formal title, either. He just rambles into thin air and casts him a glance every few seconds. 

Before Kurapika can put a finger on his suspicion - maybe Gon’s just nervous? Maybe he doesn’t like Neon that much? - he sees something fall over out of the corner of his eye. 

“Killua?” he blurts.  

“Who?”

“Oh - no one, Your Majesty - it just looks as though one of the chefs has spilled something on them.”

Gon peers across the dining room. Kurapika can see Killua flipping his apron around neatly to hide the stain on the front. It looks like a guest had knocked over a drink or something. “You’re right,” Gon says. “Could you help him out? I need to go talk with Aunt Mito - ah! Aunt Mito!” 

He bounds off before Kurapika can say anything. Normally Kurapika would have to be the one holding Gon back from rushing over and stooping far below his position to assist a worker. He ignores the unease tightening in his chest and edges across the ballroom to Killua’s stand.

“What happened?” Kurapika whispers. He can see wine soaking through the stand’s tablecloth under the wane light of the setting sun.  

“Hunter Association members,” Killua says tightly. The line of his shoulders is stiff and angry. “Probably from the housing department, you know the Association has roots everywhere. Talking about how they would have given a house to their first client if they weren’t so poor looking.”

“Poor as in - “

“Money and looks, probably. Said it was a girl with a patterned headband. They rented the building to another person.”

Kurapika’s stomach sinks. 

“They were probably wine drunk. They knocked over their cups when they were setting them down.” Killua takes the two wine glasses and stows them under the stand carefully. “I’ll take these to the kitchen.” 

“Hold on,” Kurapika says. “Your suit is stained, isn’t it?”

“Probably. The wine got all over me.”

“You can go up to my room and get changed. I’ve kept some of my old suits.”

Killua raises his eyebrows. He looks like he’s holding back a shout of frustration, his lips drawn thin across his face. He’ll probably want to text Alluka as soon as he can. “I’m only going to be here for a few more hours. It’s almost nine.” 

“I can get you up there and come back downstairs. No one will notice.” 

“The prince will dance with Lady Neon soon.” 

“I’m not a major part of that ceremony.” 

“It’s fine. I have the apron.” 

“You need to text Alluka,” Kurapika tries.

There’s a pause, and then Killua lets out a silent sigh. “But the stand,” he says as a final sort of protest.

“We’ll move it to the side to indicate it’s out of order for now,” Kurapika says. “Hurry up.” 

With nothing more than a quiet grumble, Killua lets himself get dragged out of the ballroom and up the main palace stairs. 

“This place is too easy to navigate,” Killua observes. “Doesn’t your kingdom have a problem with assassinations?”

“The queen’s first order of business was to arrange a peace treaty with the Zoldycks,” Kurapika says. He leads him down a few corridors. “And there haven’t been any other major conflicts with other countries since, so Whale Island is pretty peaceful right now. But you said that might be changing?”

Killua strips himself of his suit jacket and throws it over his shoulder. “Maybe,” he says. “My dad was working on something with my brother before I escaped. It was a big project, one they wouldn’t even let me in on. All I knew was that I’d end up killing someone. The Zoldycks want to expand eastward and Whale Island is in the way, so the chances of a mission taking place here are likely.” 

“But why?”

“Hell if I know. My mom probably got high as fuck one day and thought it’d be a good idea to try and break the treaty. Assassins get bored without murder.” 

“Doesn’t your mom have a kingdom to run?” Kurapika asks. “Kukuroo Mountain is still a functioning nation on its own.”

“It’s mostly a collection of criminals who fled from other nations - the only reason the country is allowed to function politically is because of how much power it has.” Kurapika jumps a little when Killua ducks out of the shadows - clearly, he still isn’t entirely used to Killua’s silent way of moving. “You probably learned about this as part of your palace training. The main source of income is from assassination missions and bounties. Normal bounties get filtered down to the citizens - first come, first served. Assassinations are a little trickier. And if you need to hire a Zoldyck assassin…” he shrugs. “My family doesn’t take cheap jobs. The fact that my dad wouldn’t reveal a plan to his heir - ex-heir - means there was something big going on.” 

Kurapika just nods. “Hm,” he says in lieu of an answer. “We’re here.” 

He pulls out a key from his pocket and twists it into the doorknob. “The closet’s over there. Call Alluka and then get dressed. I’ll be with the prince in the ballroom.” 

The room is small and simple with no decorations and sparse furniture scattered here and there. Killua tosses his stained jacket onto a chair. There’s a balcony across the room, the doors leading out onto it adorned with gentle white curtains. He walks out and looks down. It’s right above the ballroom and he can hear faint strains of music coming from below. 

He turns his phone on and throws open the closet doors as he’s waiting for the screen to light up. There’s a box tucked into the corner of it under a few plain outfits and he drags it out. Sure enough, there are a few worn suits neatly folded on top of each other. He picks out a decently sized one and starts pulling it on.

His phone buzzes. ‘ Just got word back from the Hunter Association’ Alluka’s text is shockingly empty of any emojis. ‘ First application didn’t work out, but I’ll keep looking on the Hunter site! I hope you’re having fun!’

Killua clenches his teeth. He’s going to kill those Association lackeys. He entertains himself with the thought of choking them with one of Kurapika’s boring ties as he buttons up the rest of the suit. 

Killua: There’ll be more opportunities later don’t worry too much

Alluka: Didn’t you basically quit your job tho

Killua: Just the one with those three brothers dw I’ll find another job

Alluka: Okay :( 

Killua: Hey wtf what’s with the sad face

Alluka: I just wish we had gotten the place :/ [crying cat sticker]

Killua: That’s not your fault 

Alluka: I know it’s just

He watches his sister’s typing indicator fade in and out on the screen

Alluka: Nanika said today would be a good night and she’s never wrong

Killua: The sun hasn’t even set yet there’s still plenty of time

Alluka: Ohh I guess ur right!!!!

Alluka: [winky sticker] did you get a good look at the prince btw??

Killua: … I’ll tell you later

Alluka: Oooooh 

Killua: I have to go now 

Alluka: Aww </3 when will you be back? 

Killua: Tomorrow afternoon? Some balls run pretty late, so I might have to prepare morning breakfast. 

He pauses and then adds another line to his message.

Killua:   It might be a two part event too - I think the customs for dances are different here. Tomorrow night at latest 

Alluka: Kurapika could let you out earlier tho

Killua scowls out his phone. 

Killua: Yeah, but I kind of owe him. I got his suit dirty 

Alluka: [confused sticker] he’s not gonna hold it against you

Killua: I’m gonna hold it against me

Alluka: [LOL] I’ll see you later then!! Mwah mwah Nanika says hi too

He swipes through his keyboard until he finds an appropriate hugging emoji and then turns his phone off again. There’s a tall glass mirror next to the closet door. He flips it around to look in his reflection. He looks a lot shorter than he really is with his hair stuffed into a hat and the suit stiff and ill-fitting on his body. He brushes at the silver locks that have escaped his ponytail and curl around his face. 

Kurapika has left the door to the balcony open - odd, for someone so meticulous. Killua pauses in his scrutiny of the suit to close it. He pauses, hesitates, and then pushes it all the way open to stand on the balcony. 

The air is starting to cool but the lingering warmth of the sun remains and clings to his face, slipping across his face and over his lips like silk. The garden surrounding the palace is gorgeous - even from his vantage point he can see the vibrant petals of flowers starting to open up towards the moon. 

He stares up at the stars, slowly fading into view as the sun burns its way down the horizon, and bites back a bitter laugh. 

His mother would laugh herself into hysterics if she saw who he was right now. The most cherished assassin in the land, the only Zoldyck child to have inherited their father’s lightning blue eyes, shoved into a suit given to him by the last surviving member of the Kurta clan. The history of the Kurta massacre had been a part of Killua’s training growing up and he was more than aware of how much his family members scorned their lifestyle, almost gleeful of the fact that the Phantom Troupe wiped them off the map. Their death had allowed the Zoldyck’s territory to expand, after all. 

Killua had profited off their genocide, and now he was hot and itchy in Kurapika’s old suit. 

Something small and white streaks across the edge of the sky and he turns quickly to see a shooting star in the distance, a meteor burning up in the atmosphere and sizzling into ash. 

Today will be a good night, Alluka had said. Nanika told me. We even wished on a wishing star! 

He tightens his grip on his phone, the screen dull and grey. “Sorry,” he says out loud, his words quiet in the breeze. “Sorry, Alluka.” 

“Who’s Alluka?”

He flinches and almost drops his phone. He glances around the balcony and into Kurapika’s room - it’s a small area, there’s no way someone could have snuck up on him even if he was about to start a depressing and melancholy monologue - but he doesn’t see anyone. He looks down at his feet and catches sight of a tiny green frog. It blinks at him cheerfully. 

“Hey!” it says, and a very human, very enthusiastic voice booms from its throat. “Please don’t stomp on me.” 

Killua raises his foot. 

Before he can crush it the frog leaps out of the way with startling reflexes, frantically making its way up to the railing. “Hold on!” it shouts placatingly. “Can you hear me out? You’re like - “

“You’re like what?” Killua says, swiping at it furiously. “Who are you? Did my father send you? I swear to fucking god if you’re from Milluki or something - “ 

“I was going to say you’re pretty, but if you want to be like that - “

Killua’s brain abruptly sizzles to a halt. For the first time in several years, he pauses in his pursuit of a target and lets the frog hop out of his arm’s range. “ What? ” 

The frog flaps its foot abashedly. Can frogs even look embarrassed? Nothing in Killua’s training had prepared him for this. “That doesn’t matter. I mean - anyways. You must have heard of me,” it says, quickly rerouting the conversation from its impulsive compliment. “I’m like, the prince of Whale Island. I hate that title, by the way, but usually people recognize me as that. I’m Gon Freecss. And you?”

“That is the worst cover story I’ve ever heard,” Killua says disbelievingly. “There’s no way my brothers sent you.” 

“Should I be reassured by that? You’re trying to kill me.” 

“You tried to derail me by calling me pretty .”

The frog looks sheepish. “I wasn’t lying.”

There’s no good way to respond to that, so Killua grabs the frog by a leg before it trips off the railing and sets it firmly on the balcony. “Start talking. Who the fuck are you?” 

“I already told you, I’m Gon - “

“And I’m an assassin. Sure.”

“Wait, really? What type of assassin?”

Killua feels like he’s been slapped across the back of my head. “You believe me?” 

The frog tilts its head. “Uh. Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Okay. If - “ Killua rubs at his forehead. He can feel stabs of annoyance starting to gather between his eyes. Maybe he should just squish it. That’d quickly solve any of the questions he has and he can just go back down to the ballroom. Simple as that. “If you really are Gon Freecss, then who’s the guy at the party?”

“That’s the guy that cursed me,” the frog responds. “Probably. He has this cool ability or something - like he dragged me into the palace gardens but we were supposed to be in the market square, right? Like teleportation - and then he said some stuff and pulled out some needles and then there was this flash of light and I could hear someone reciting something to me in my head. Like instructions - a contract, I think was what they said? - and then - “ it breathes in deeply. “Maybe I should explain from the beginning.”

Killua closes his eyes and resists the urge to pull out his claws. 

“Make it quick.” 

To the best of its ability - his ability, if he really is the prince - the frog gives a hasty recount of his trip throughout the city in the afternoon and then his encounter with a “Nen user”. He’d gone temporarily unconscious before waking up as a frog.

“Actually, I don’t know if I was unconscious,” the frog says sheepishly. “But I heard someone narrating the contract in my head and all I could see was black, like I was in a box. Or something like that. I basically have one day to find someone to kiss or I’m stuck like this forever.”

Killua stares at it. “Like - like the fairy tale?”

“Yeah! The princess and the frog. My aunt read that to me a lot as I was growing up.”

“Why would someone bind you to a fairy tale ?” 

“I have no idea. I’ve never even heard of this Nen thing. His needles were cool, though.” 

The word strikes a spark of recognition in Killua’s chest, but he can’t place the feeling. “Needles?”

“Yeah, big ones. They looked like oversized pins with round tips and stuff.”

Unease crawls up his throat. He knows what the frog is talking about - he’s sure of it - but his mind comes up blank and empty. “What did the contract say?” 

“Uh, I have until tomorrow midnight to kiss a person with royal blood - like on the lips, I think. Non-family member - so no one with Freecss blood - if I can’t do that, I stay a frog forever. Also, the guy who did this took some of my blood and put it in this glowing thing and he turned into me. I think that’s important.”

“ What? ” 

The frog backtracks in his story. He also hops several feet away from Killua, clearly worried about an early demise. “When I came to, I wasn’t in the palace anymore,” he says. He hesitates. “Or at least I wasn’t wherever he made me think I was. It looked like the palace garden, but it was like a painting instead of an actual location - it was too quiet and the water didn’t ripple at all. It just felt off.”

“Maybe that’s part of his ability,” Killua muses. He’s heard of the concept of Nen - bits and pieces of conversation he’d caught when his parents thought he was unconscious, little secrets slipped to him under a bowl of poison. His family wasn’t stupid, but sometimes even they would underestimate his pain tolerance. From what he was able to learn as a kid, Nen users were much more powerful than non-Nen users, although how that power was used was still a mystery to him. 

The frog makes a valiant attempt at shrugging. “Anyways, while I was asleep he had taken me from the fake garden and put me in a jar. He had this glowing talisman around his neck. A creepy old looking thing with a drop of my blood in it. He tapped it and it became even brighter and suddenly I was looking at myself - he transformed into me, basically. And then he left.”

“How did you get out? Where were you?”

The frog gestures downwards. “I was near the ballroom,” he says. “I came up here because Kurapika always knows what to do. But I forgot he would be staying with… fake me, I guess. What are you doing in his room, anyways? Are you his friend? He never brings guests into the palace.” 

Killua bites his lip. If this is someone sent by the Zoldycks, he can’t risk putting Kurapika in danger. The probability of a frog being a well-trained assassin is unlikely, though, so he settles for a half-answer. “I’ve met him a few times at my job,” he says. “He’s had my food before.”

“Oh - you’re one of the chefs!” the frog exclaims. “That must be why Kurapika brought you in. What sorta food do you make?” 

“I bake, mostly. Pastries and the like. Sometimes I cook.” 

“Huh,” the frog says. “Didn’t you say you were an assassin, though? I mean, I guess it’s good to be talented at more than one thing. But how do you juggle both jobs?”

Killua laughs disbelievingly. “You took my word seriously?”

“Why would you lie?”

“Why wouldn’t I lie?”

The frog gives him a long look. “Fair,” he says finally. “But you mentioned a Milluki , right? You’re talking about the Zoldycks - one of them is named Milluki Zoldyck. He’s not as well known as the rest of the Zoldycks, but I remember my teacher talking about him during training.” 

Killua’s stomach drops through the floor. 

He’s so stupid. Whether the frog is an assassin or not, he should have kept his mouth shut. He’s not at Kukuroo Mountain anymore but that doesn’t mean that he’s any safer than he was while he was under the watch of his family. He’s hiding Alluka and Nanika away, after all, and Illumi wants nothing more than to harness Nanika’s power. His slip of the tongue could get them killed. 

“I don’t care, though,” the frog continues, shrugging his shoulders. “The Zoldycks have a peace treaty with us, right? And you’re wearing Kurapika’s old suit. Kurapika doesn’t just let anyone wear his clothes. He must trust you.”

Killua clenches his fists behind his back. He can’t trust what this person is saying. There’s too many risks involved - he should kill it before it can do anything like turn back into a human or whatever - but for some reason he takes a step back and lets out a tense breath. “A Kurta clan member wouldn’t trust a Zoldyck assassin,” he says, testing the waters. 

The frog blinks up at him owlishly. “You shouldn’t even know he’s a Kurta,” he responds. “He doesn’t make a point of telling people that.”

Well, fuck. 

“Okay, fine,” Killua says resignedly. “Let’s say you really are Gon Freecss. Why would you even… how did you even meet this guy? What happened?”

“Aunt Mito let me into the market square for the afternoon,” Gon says. “I could go anywhere I wanted as long as I was back for the ball. She’s usually kinda careful about that stuff because, you know, princely duties and protection and all, butu Kurapika managed to convince her I’d be fine.” 

“The guy approached me and said that he knew like… what I wanted, I guess. He told me my fortune with these needles.” Gon goes quiet for a moment.  “He was really accurate - it’s kind of scary... are all fortune tellers like that?”

Killua highly doubts most fortune tellers have the ability to transform the heir of a kingdom into an amphibian. He doesn’t press the point. “What did he tell you after that?” 

“He told me he could give me the green I needed to get me out of Whale Island,” Gon explains. “But this isn’t the green that I was thinking of.”

Killua watches the tiny frog on the railing wave its limbs somberly, barely catching itself before it teeters off the side of the balcony. “You’re a prince,” he manages. ‘You have enough money of your own.”

Gon nods. “Oh, I know,” he says cheerfully. “But I always feel bad asking Aunt Mito for favors. Besides, I don’t think she’d let me take more than my monthly allowance if I said I was planning to abandon my princely responsibilities with it.” 

“Well - “ Killua snaps his mouth shut. To be fair, he’s no better than Gon at princely responsibilities. He had slashed his mother in the face and impaled Milluki on a knife during his escape, and then retired as one of the most feared assassins in the world to become a minimum wage baker. He can’t really say anything. 

He’s a little surprised, though - the Freecss seem so much nicer than the Zoldycks, and he can’t think of any reason why Gon would want to leave Whale Island. 

There’s a certain level of suffocation that comes with royal blood, no matter how kind the environment you grow up in. The royal family’s restrictions are just as hereditary as their looks that are passed down from generation to generation. Killua knows that better than anyone else. 

So if Gon is anything like the… personality the fake prince had assumed in the ballroom, then Killua can understand why he wants to leave Whale Island. The Freecss Kingdom is a lovely place, but in the end it is nothing more than a tiny nation, a quiet island isolated in the ocean and doomed to a watery grave in a few million years. Even now, Gon hops around the balcony restlessly, testing out the range of motion of his new body. Killua suddenly understands the appeal of frog catching; the little prince bounces around his feet, occasionally exclaiming in surprise when he jumps higher than anticipated. Gon’s excitement and curiosity about his dilemma exceeds his fear, which is honestly fucking stupid - if Killua had thrown him off the balcony, he would have been stuck as a frog forever and left vulnerable to other elements. His enthusiasm is infectious, though, and Killua opens his mouth before he can stop himself. 

“I’m a prince,” he says.

Gon pauses in wrapping his tongue around the railing experimentally and looks up at him. “You are?”

“Killua Zoldyck. I am - I was - the heir.”

A moment of quiet passes. “That’s a really pretty name,” Gon says, and his voice is a little breathless. “Killua. It suits you - Hey, Killua!”

“What?” he snaps too quickly. 

“Nothing. Just wanted to say your name,” Gon says - as if that isn’t weird at all. Gon is the strangest person Killua has met, and the impression isn’t softened by the fact that Gon is literally a frog right now. Once all of this is over he’s going to take Alluka’s advice and knock himself out. At least then he’ll be able to get at least a day’s worth of sleep.  “Anyways, what’s the heir of the Zoldycks doing here?” 

Killua watches Gon try to climb his way up the balcony door. “You’re not concerned I’m here to assassinate you or anything?” he asks. Gon doesn’t seem to show any sign of worry at all. It’s disarming. “I could kill you and your family in an instant, you know.”

Gon lets out a hum. “You could,” he says. “But you didn’t. And Kurapika trusts you.”

“You have a lot of faith in Kurapika.”

“I do,” Gon says earnestly. “He means a lot to me. What about you?”

“...He’s okay, I guess. I didn’t like him at first, but he’s done a lot to help me.” 

“Why didn’t you like him?”

“I’m a Zoldyck. Of course I wouldn’t like him. He’s an official in the Freecss’ royal court.”

Gon flops off the door and lands neatly on the ground. “Well, I’m glad you two met - you seem really kind! And cool!” he says cheerfully. “So. Do you think you could help me with this… frog situation and everything?”

Kind is not a word Killua would associate with himself but he doesn’t question Gon’s choice of compliments. “Maybe,” he says, crossing his arms. “But what if you aren’t the prince? Maybe you’re poisonous. Maybe you’re trying to kill me. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.” 

Gon’s round eyes flicker in an imitation of a wince. “That’s fair.” 

“You’re literally a talking frog. ”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not?”

“I mean - it’s kind of cool.” Gon pauses. “Ah, wait. The time limit thing. Yeah, no, this is pretty bad.” 

Killua exhales. The chances of this frog being an assassin get slimmer by the minute. There’s no way anyone would hire someone so dim-witted. “What can you offer me if I help you out?”

“Offer? Oh - um - people like money, right?” Gon says. “I can pay you off. If you want refuge from the Zoldycks, I can also try to arrange that.”

Killua narrows his eyes. The second option sounds tempting, but he’s not sure how much the prince can handle on his own. He hadn’t even brought up needing to escape from his family; for all Gon knows, he could be on a mission right now. The prince is a lot more perceptive than he had anticipated. “What do you mean by refuge ? There might be a peace treaty between the Freecss and Zoldyck kingdoms right now, but they won’t be happy if you take in their heir.” 

Gon is quiet for a moment. “You don’t seem to like them very much.”

Killua tenses. “I never said anything about liking them or not. They’re just my family. That’s all there is to it.” 

“People are supposed to like their family.” 

“That - it doesn’t matter,” he says. He rubs his forehead. “How about this. Fifty million jenny, and you never mention that you met me. Especially not to the royal family. None of this ever happened.” 

“Sure,” Gon says immediately. “When do you need the money?”

“As soon as possible. But not too fast, or you’ll get noticed.” 

Gon taps the ground with his foot contemplatively. “I think I can figure it out. I can have Kurapika deliver everything to you.”

“What makes you think I’m that close to Kurapika?”

“You’re a really bad liar.”

“I’m literally an assassin. ” 

“Well, maybe you’re easy to read to me,” Gon says. “You’re pretty honest.”

He crosses his arms, unnerved. “We just met.”

Gon laughs, his tiny body shaking with the force of the sound. “I know,” he says. “Can I come and see you after this is all over?”

“I can’t get involved with the royal family,” Killua says. “I already told you that.” 

The frog looks oddly disappointed at this. “I get that,” he says. “Okay. Uh. So you’re gonna kiss me now, right?”

Killua puts a hand on the ground and lets Gon hop onto his palm before lifting him to his face. He cringes slightly. “I’m sure you’re good looking as a person, but this kind of sucks.”

“Sorry,” Gon says apologetically.

“Also - couldn’t you ask Neon? The kid downstairs? Like - she’s a girl.”

Gon tilts his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re engaged to her,” Killua says. He sounds a little foolish to his own ears, but he blames it on the impending embarrassment of having to kiss an amphibian. “I’m your kingdom’s worst enemy. I’m a guy. Mostly. Slightly.” 

“I don’t really care about that,” Gon says. “This curse - it’s kinda like that fairy tale. In the original story, it’s like.. A kiss of true love or something like that.” He shrugs dully. “Obviously, that’s not part of the problem here - I’ve never met you before and I’m only engaged to Neon because her father arranged a deal. So gender or connections or whatever don’t matter to me.”  

“I get that,” Killua says, a little lost. He’s never really understood the concept of love either. His parents are the model of a perfect marriage - man and woman, married for years, a horde of children growing up around their legs - but they never seem happy about it. Killua can count on one hand the amount of peaceful encounters they’ve had, and the invisible scars on his back are a silent testament to the usual happenings in their household. Sibling love he understands. Friendship had been a little harder to get, but he eventually started to grasp the idea. Romantic love was a mystery to him. “But - I could take you to Neon. Or I could get Kurapika, I guess. You wouldn’t have to pay them.”

Gon stares at him. “Are you trying to be an evil and coldhearted assassin or not? Because you’re being weirdly nice.” 

Killua resists the urge to drop him off the balcony. “Fucking - fine,” he says, huffing out a breath. He resigns himself to his fate; he’s already built an immunity to all sorts of poisons, and if frog-Gon tries to stab him he can still evade the attack. The only thing he’s really risking is his dignity.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

He can’t help but cringe away slightly when he brings the frog right by his mouth. He can feel Gon’s tiny body vibrating slightly against his palm. It’ll be fine , he tells himself. All I have to do is kiss it. Frog turns human, I get money, the Freecss’ leave me alone. I find Kurapika and curse him to the ends of the earth. Then I’ll go home to Alluka. Everything’s going to be fine. 

They snap their eyes closed at the same time and with great hesitancy, Killua presses his lips to the top of the frog’s head. As soon as they make contact, a jolt of pain goes through his temple and he bites back a yell. A blast of air pushes him against the railing of the balcony. His eyesight goes dark for a second. After a long moment, the world rights itself dizzily. 

He screws his eyes shut to alleviate the throbbing in his head. “Gon?” he says cautiously. “ Fuck. ” 

“Killua? Ah - Oh, shit, ” Gon says. “Oh my god.”

Unease pools in Killua’s stomach. “What? What happened?” His vision is starting to return and he can see a blurry green figure in front of him. That must be Gon - but he doesn’t look as small as he did before. In fact, he’s big enough that Killua doesn’t even have to squat to look at him properly. Did Gon grow all of a sudden? He glances down at his paws to make sure he’s orientated properly.

Wait. Paws? 

“You have paws,” Gon breathes. “Holy shit, you have paws.”

Killua blinks several times. “ Why the fuck do I have paws. ”

“You’re a cat,” Gon babbles. “Why are you - “

“What the fuck happened?” he demands. He tries to rise to his feet only to realize he has four of them and he’s covered in thick, silver fur the same color as his hair. Two large ears fold back on the top of his head. “Did you - the contract - “

“I wasn’t lying, I swear! Are you sure you’re a prince?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure, I have my dad’s old-ass hair to prove it,” Killua snaps. “It kind of forced me to become the Zoldyck heir.” He raises a front leg. “See? Still white.” 

“Why are you a cat, though?” Gon says thoughtfully. “That’s not even remotely close to a frog. Maybe it’s based on personality? Gittarackur said I jumped around like a frog. Are you like a cat?”

“I wouldn’t fucking know!”

Gon hops backwards. “Definitely like a cat,” he decides. “Okay. Maybe the contract meant only girls with royal blood? That’s kind of homophobic.”

“That’d be a strange specification,” Killua says, although it’s entirely possible. There are some older, more traditional kingdoms that might find fault in the Freecss’ kingdom’s open mindedness. “Maybe it’s - “

His words get stuck in his throat. He’s technically a prince; he has royal blood, his veins filled with the filthy Zoldyck bloodline, but there’s ways to become an ex-prince . He’d turned against his family in his escape and made off with one of their “unclassified objects”; maybe that had been enough for his father to strip him of his namesake. He grits his teeth. 

“What is it?” Gon asks. 

“It’s nothing. Gon, I think - “

The balcony rocks sickeningly under their feet. 

The force of the transformation had been enough to dent and push the railing outwards, ripping the bars out of the floor and punching a hole into the side of the balcony. Gon teeters dangerously on the railing, still unaccustomed to his body, before letting out a yelp and tumbling off the top. 

“Gon!” Killua shouts, and he clambers down after him. The next floor isn’t too far below them and he’s pretty sure he can claw his way down the walls - maybe even jump, although he doesn’t want to risk it. “Gon, are you okay?”

He notices too late that the partygoers in the ballroom have gone deathly silent. He freezes in his climb halfway down to the first floor. Gon winces and flaps his limbs to push himself upright in an unfortunately positioned bowl of punch.

“God, that hurt - I guess we preserve a lot of our human instincts even if - ah.” Gon cuts himself off and looks guiltily at the horrified guests. Faintly, they hear the violinist in the quartet drop their bow in shock. “Okay. This is really awkward.” 

Gon - the human Gon, presumably the fake prince - is the first person to break the silence with a loud gasp. “Aunt Mito, isn’t that witchcraft?” he says, and the word drops like a bomb in the middle of the ballroom. “I thought they only had talking animals in the Dark Continent!” 

Everyone flinches at the mention. The Dark Continent is a well known story, more legend than myth at this point. The world is a lot larger than the current nations, but it’s said that everything past the borders of their oceans is so dangerous that no one has dared to come close to that boundary. Even ships several kilometers away from the edge of the ocean have reported extreme weather and overwhelming negative emotion. The place has become a fable of sorts, often used to scare children into behaving.  

A talking frog in a bowl of punch… that’s probably not the most outlandish of creatures that the Dark Continent could produce. Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop a guard from throwing a poorly-aimed knife that nicks Killua’s ear before he can react properly. He hisses in pain and tumbles onto the table where Gon’s trying to extract himself from the bowl.

A woman at the edge of the ballroom lets out a cry of fear and the noise sets everyone else off; all of the guests rush for the door immediately, tripping over their bustles and coattails to escape. “Don’t let them escape!” the prince shouts before he and his aunt are hidden from view by the guards. 

“Look where you got us now,” Killua says under his breath. “Can’t you say anything to convince them?”

Gon rolls out of the punch bowl with a grunt. “I can try? Uh - hey! I’m Prince Gon! Don’t kill us?”

“That’s not going to fucking work - “

“What else am I supposed to try? Do you have any other options?”

Killua scans the ballroom as best as he can. The guards positioned around the area are starting to recover from their initial shock. Most of the partygoers have cleared out by now, and the royal family has been escorted away too. 

He stops when he catches Kurapika’s gaze. Kurapika hesitates, his mouth opening slightly - but he doesn’t move to help the guards. Instead, his eyes travel past Killua to Gon, and then a brief spark of recognition lights in his eyes.

Kurapika cocks his head, his lips moving silently - and then he’s gone, disappearing with the panicked guests into the inside of the castle. And Killua lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Kurapika’s going to help us,” he says, wrinkling when Gon flops out of the bowl with a sticky splash of juice. “We just need to get down into the garden.”

“From here?” Gon eyes the guards edging towards them. “And without getting stabbed?”

“Figure it out, Your Majesty,” Killua bites vehemently. “You’re kind of the one that put us in this situation. Plus, I’m not the one who lives here.”

Gon huffs, his voice breaking into a slight ribbet at the end of the exhale. “We can probably jump off the balcony,” he reasons. “There’s some large hedges near the bottom of the stairs. Then we can hide in the flowery bushes.”

Killua rolls his eyes to the heavens mentally. He wasn’t paid enough for this. “Get on my back.”

“What?” 

“I said, get on my back. Are you deaf?”

“Why would I get on your back?” 

“So we can run.”

“I can run perfectly fine, thanks.”

“You’re a frog. ”

“I bet I could hop faster than you.”

“I’m a fucking cat right now. Are you going to get on my back, or do I need to put you in my mouth?” 

Gon deflates at that. 

Although he’s still getting used to his four legs, Killua can’t help but enjoy the pure terror that passes across a guard’s face when he leaps at him. Throwing in a few words here or there helps heighten their fear, too, and Killua manages to make it to the balcony stairs without getting stomped on. With a massive leap he gets up and over the railing and tumbles into the soft ground below. 

“Aren’t cats supposed to always land on their feet?”

“I’m not really experienced with the whole cat thing yet,” Killua snaps. “Give me a break.” 

Gon lets out a bright laugh that catches him so off guard he almost trips over his tail. “You’re really interesting, you know that?”

Killua resists the urge to skid to a stop. He can still hear the guards behind them. “It’s your fault I’m a cat.”

“I know that,” Gon says. “I meant, like, your reaction to all of this. You’re even helping me escape.”

Under normal circumstances, Killua would have killed Gon immediately. He wouldn’t have hesitated the minute he’d seen the frog - unknown situations mean a higher risk of failure, after all; he’s had that lesson drilled into his mind and he’ll do anything he can to keep things under his control. But it’s rare that he ever feels so little bloodlust from someone. Everyone has a certain amount of animosity in them, but Gon hadn’t given off any at all, not even when Killua threatened to smash him into the ground. He’d just seemed curious about the whole situation.

“I could kill you right now,” Killua suggests. “Cat still beats frog.”

Gon hums. “You wouldn’t do that. We still don’t know how the curse works.”

Killua jumps behind a row of bushes. “Unfortunate. Do you see Kurapika anywhere?”

“Mm.. not yet. Try heading to the south, there’s a grove of trees I like going to sometimes. He might be there.”

“Around the palace wall?”

“Yeah.” 

The garden is clean and easy to navigate, but the fear of potential sorcery and the small size of Killua’s figure prevent the guards from tracking them properly. After a few moments he pops his head out from under a large, well-trimmed hedge, and looks around. 

“I think we’re safe,” he says. “I can see the trees from here.”

Gon bounces up onto the top of his head, right between his ears. Killua’s still getting used to how his ears hear and he winces as Gon shuffles around to get a better view. “I think I see him!” Gon says. “Wow, these eyes are really weird. I can see a lot… bigger. Like my vision is rounder, I guess. There’s more stuff.” 

“Descriptive,” Killua says sarcastically. “It’s like I’m seeing through your eyes myself.”

He glances cautiously around their surroundings before letting Gon hop to the ground. His hearing has alway been exceptional, and it doesn’t look like that’s changed in his transformation. He can hear the clamor of guests and palace workers far behind them. He can also hear the faint movements of someone in the vicinity and he tenses slightly, the hair rising on his spine. 

“Kurapika?” he calls. After a second, a shadow in the trees shifts.

“Killua,” Kurapika says, emerging from the darkness of the grove. His eyebrows shoot up his face. “And… Prince Gon?”

“What have I told you about using those formal titles? It’s weird.” Gon lifts himself up in an effort to cross his front arms - legs - in indignation, but gives up after he almost loses his balance and stumbles forward. “Just imagine that I’m glaring at you, because it’s really hard to glare when you don’t have any eyebrows.”

Killua and Kurapika exchange a stunned, exasperated glance before Kurapika lets out a puff of laughter. “Definitely Gon, then. No one else talks like that.”

“So you believe us?” Gon asks excitedly. 

“Why else would I be here?” Kurapika crosses his arm. It’s almost a taunt at Gon’s previous failure. “You came to the grove, anyways.” 

Gon looks like he’s about to burst into an excited speech but Killua cuts him off hurriedly. “Gon got cursed with a Nen contract or something,” he explains. “The rules of it loosely follow the fairy tale The Princess and the Frog and we have until tomorrow midnight to fix this.” 

By the way Kurapika’s eyes widen in alarm Killua can tell he’s caught on. “I couldn’t break the curse for some reason,” he continues. “We’ll probably have to get him to Lady Nostrade.” 

“You couldn’t break it?” Kurapika says, evidently confused. “But - “

He pauses. 

“He already knows,” Killua says. “It’s fine.” 

“Right.” Kurapika nods briskly. “You’ll have to explain the contract more thoroughly to me later, but I’m pretty sure they’re organizing a manhunt for the two of you. The prince - the fake prince - was spearheading it. We’ll have to get out of the castle.” 

Gon looks worried. “But if they spot you - “

Kurapika waves him off. “I’ll be fine,” he says, scooping Gon and Killua under his arm. “We can worry about that later. We need to get as far away as we can.”

Silently, he disappears into the grove and makes for the palace walls. “Part of the southern wall has chipped away at the top,” he says quietly. “Might have gotten hit by something - a tree or whatever - during one of the summer storms. It’s not big enough to be a concern to the construction team, but it should help me climb over the wall.” 

Gon lets out a gasp entirely too excited for their dire situation. “Where are we gonna go after that?”

Kurapika scans the growing darkness. “Definitely out of the main city. I’m thinking the forests on the further end of the island would be a safe bet.” 

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

“Not too long. I know a few shortcuts.” 

Killua squints his eyes against the wind whipping against his face. Kurapika may not have the same remarkable speed that he does, but he’s definitely fast. “We can settle down there for the night and then go back tomorrow,” he says. “You’ll probably be able to meet Lady Nostrade alone during the second portion of the party, right, Kurapika?”

“Right. While we’re gone, we can figure out the specifics of the contract. It’s likely that the curse will break entirely once Gon fulfills the terms of the contract, so Killua will turn back into a human too.” Kurapika disappears behind a row of buildings surrounding the palace. “They’ve organized fairly quickly. The soldiers, I mean. The prince must have issued a heavy command.”

Gon’s eyes flicker. “I’ve never seen so many soldiers at once,” he says, slightly awed. “And definitely not outside of the palace… they usually stay inside the walls.” 

Kurapika nods grimly. “Whatever your double said to the queen, they said it convincingly.” 

“Then, I’m glad you trusted us!”

Kurapika gives the frog in his hand a gentle smile. “I’ve known you for years. I can tell when your behavior’s off.” 

The rest of their journey proceeds quietly. Kurapika manages to stay out of sight and eventually the bright lanterns of the city fade into the natural lighting cast by the moon. The terrain under their feet becomes bumpy and lined with rocks. After a while, Kurapika slows to a halt and looks around cautiously before letting them onto the ground. 

“I think we’re far enough away,” he says. “Killua, do you hear anything?”

Killua shakes his head. He pats down his fur futilely, although it seems to retain the properties of his hair when he was a human; white and soft and unruly, sticking out at impossible angles. “We can rest here for the night. Gon, do you want to explain the contract to Kurapika?”

Kurapika starts a fire as Gon recounts his experience with the Nen user. He narrows his eyes thoughtfully as Gon lists out the details of the contract - the fairy tale-esque restrictions, the time limit, and everything that happened between him and Killua on Kurapika’s balcony. After a second, he gets a small flame and fans it to life on a wood chip. He sets it into a nest of debris and dry grass and lets the whole pile burn into a respectable fire. 

“So,” he says after Gon is finished. “Let me see if I got this right. The basic rules follow the tale of The Princess and the Frog - you have until tomorrow night to kiss someone of royal blood, or you’ll be stuck as a frog forever.” He frowns slightly. “Are you sure there were no specifications on what type of royal blood? Maybe it has to be an ally to the Freecss kingdom, or something like that?”

Gon shakes his head. “I didn’t hear anything like that.”

“I don’t know much about this Nen thing, but it seems unlikely something that specific would be implemented,” Killua says. “Kurapika, you might know more, but the ability to transform and bind someone to a contract seems detailed enough. I doubt that one would be able to manipulate that ability to a further extent. There has to be a limit to what the Nen user can do.” 

Kurapika crosses his arms and leans into the heat of the fire. “I don’t know too much, either, but I’ve heard about it,” he says. “And what Gon told me lines up with what I know. It’s a special power that comes from one’s life aura. That means most people have a fair shot at learning it, although being able to truly harness it requires a lot of training, talent, and individuality. From what Gon has told us about the Nen user, he probably possesses two powers; one in the needles, and one to form the contract. There’s the chance that these are related. He needs to do something with the needles, and that activates the contract. But because Gon mentioned the glowing thing - let’s call it a talisman - the needles are probably separate. The blood activates the contract, and the needles are a power on its own. It seems unlikely that he’d be able to use both perfectly, and because the contract power is so complicated, that one probably has to be kept simple.” 

Killua shifts on his paws carefully. “That doesn’t explain why it didn’t work when I kissed him, though.”

“Do you have any idea what might have gone wrong?”

He hesitates. “My family might have kicked me out,” he says. The words are sour on his tongue. “When I ran away with Alluka, it’s possible my father announced me as a traitor and relieved me of the Zoldyck name. That doesn’t change the fact I have royal blood, but it could be a factor.”

Kurapika hums contemplatively. “It’s possible that the contract is twofold; first, you have to have royal blood or be connected to a current royal family.” He holds up one finger, and then another. “Secondly, you have to be considered part of the royal family.” 

“Would Neon even work, then? If we’re planning to go back to the palace to ask for her help, it might not even work,” Gon asks. 

“You two are technically engaged at this point,” Kurapika points out. “Most of the citizens are already calling her Princess Neon. That shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“That feels a little too nitpicky for such a simple contract, though.” Killua bats his tail. “Maybe if we knew more about Nen, this would be easier - what was that?”

The three of them tense simultaneously. Nights on Whale Island aren’t usually quiet; the forests are full of the buzzing of insects and other creatures, birdsong punctuating the air even during the darkest hours. But the rustle that shakes a bush a few meters away from them is too awkward to be a native wild animal and too loud to be a stiff breeze. Kurapika rises halfway out of his crouch, his hands coming up in a wary defensive stance.

“Gon, don’t move,” he says quietly over his shoulder, halting the frog mid-hop. “Hold on.” 

A second of breathless silence passes by, and then the bush rustles violently again and the tense atmosphere is punctured by a hearty string of curses. 

“Shit - fuck, ow, what the fuck,” the bush snarls. After a brief struggle a man with long limbs and an atrocious suit rolls out of the shrubbery. “I shouldn’t have come out this late, I knew that sailor was tricking me when he told me it only grew around here - oh. Who are you?” 

Kurapika blinks rhythmically. He relaxes his stance, although his shoulders are still tight and ready. “I’m from the city,” he says carefully. “And you?”

In the light of the fire, they can see the man has a tiny pair of glasses balanced on his nose. There’s a faint shadow of stubble climbing up his jaw. He squints down at Kurapika as he unravels himself from the ground and gets to his feet. “Cityfolk? Yeah, you seem like it. I’m from one of the port towns. Leorio Paladiknight. What are you doing out here?” His gaze travels across Kurapika, his eyebrows raising slightly at the formal suit he’s in, and then turns to look at Killua and Gon huddled together on the ground. “Are these your pets?”

Kurapika’s mouth twists. “They’re - “ 

“Nice to meet you, Leorio-san!” Gon chirps. 

Killua winces in tandem with Kurapika. 

Leorio’s jaw practically unhinges from the rest of his face. “You - “ he stammers, and his mouth clatters shut several times before he forms another syllable. “A talking frog?”

“ Oh, that wasn’t the right thing to say,” Gon says a beat too late. “Sorry, Kurapika. I forgot.”

Killua closes his eyes against a sharp pain in his forehead. Either cats can get headaches and he wasn’t aware of this, or Gon’s special brand of stupidity transcends animal kingdoms. He has a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter. 

Kurapika cuts in. “Sorry, Leorio-san. I’ll explain in a second. Could you join us at the fire for a few moments?” 

Leorio flicks him a suspicious look. “You’re camping out in the middle of nowhere, you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, and you have a talking frog. What makes you think I’ll sit down with you?”

“We can’t exactly let you go now, anyways,” Killua says. Leorio stumbles backwards like he’s seen a ghost and almost plunges back into the bush he emerged from. “You might as well hear us out. The other option is Kurapika knocking you out so hard that you forget this ever happened. And believe me, his punch fucking hurts .”

“You’ve been punched by Kurapika before?” Gon asks curiously. “How are you still alive?”

“That’s not the point,” Killua snaps. “Oh, and look at him go. He looks like he’s going to pass out. Kurapika, could you grab him before he knocks his head against a tree? I want to ask him some things.” 

Kurapika dutifully catches Leorio around the waist before he collapses to the ground. “Should we tell him who you two actually are?”

“That’s not gonna go down well. Let’s just ask him what he’s doing, and we can figure it out from there.” 

After Leorio regains his balance, Kurapika gives a filtered recount of the events that had transpired that night. They were in the city for the ball, he explains, and were mysteriously attacked by a Nen user that turned two of them into animals. They’re not sure how Nen works, so they had stopped for the night to regain their bearings and would seek out help in the morning. The suspicious pinch in Leorio’s eyebrows evens out into concern. 

“Nen, huh?” he says contemplatively. “It sounds familiar, but I don’t know anything about it. Are these Nen users common?”

“We have no idea,” Kurapika says. “I’ve also heard of them, but everything I know is scarce and full of rumors. We just know that they must fulfill a certain task before midnight tomorrow, or they’ll be stuck as animals forever.” 

“What task? I might be able to help depending on what it is.”

Killua swaps a quick glance with Kurapika. “Can we tell him?” Kurapika asks. 

Killua shrugs. If worse came to worse, Kurapika could bribe Leorio with money to keep him quiet; the royal official probably had more than enough spare cash lying around. They could also silence him with force if necessary. “Gon, what do you think?” 

“He seems nice,” Gon observes. “I think we can tell him.”

Nice certainly wasn’t the first word Killua had thought of to describe Leorio. He’s brash and abrasive and dramatic, but Gon’s right, in a sense. Killua doesn’t feel any malice or ingenuity from the man, so he nods to Kurapika to continue. 

“Gon has to kiss someone with royal blood to turn them back,” Kurapika explains. “We’re thinking of talking to Lady Nostrade.”

“Lady Nostrade - wait, Gon? ” Leorio shouts, jumping to his feet. Kurapika gives him a warning look. “ Gon Freecss? ”

“Told you so,” Killua mutters under his breath. 

“Hold on, so you’re Gon Freecss - “

Gon picks up a front leg and waves enthusiastically. 

“The prince and heir of the Freecss Kingdom - “

Kurapika rubs at his forehead tiredly. 

“ And you’re a frog? Then - who are you? Who’s the cat?”

Kurapika stares down the line of Leorio’s accusatory finger. “First off, stop pointing at me. You’re going to poke me in the eye. Secondly, I’m the prince’s friend, Kurapika. And the cat - “

“Killua Zoldyck,” Killua supplies. “You know, from Kukuroo Mountain.” 

“Bullshit!” Leorio spits. “Haha, very funny. Jokes over now. Can you please tell me the truth? I’m tired of wasting my time with you three. I have things to do.” 

Gon stares at him unblinkingly. “We’re not lying.” 

Leorio matches his stare for several moments before raising his hand to his arm and pinching himself violently. “How come I’m not dreaming?” he demands, rubbing at the red mark. “What the fuck is happening?” 

Kurapika lets out his nth sigh of the night. “Gon here was hit with a Nen user’s power, which turned him into a frog. Killua tried to help him, but the spell backfired. We’re trying to figure out why that happened.” 

“Telling me that this frog is the prince is enough, but that you’re working with a Zoldyck ?” Leorio says. “That’s bullshit. I don’t believe it. If this cat was a Zoldyck we’d all be dead by now, especially Prince Gon.” 

Kurapika’s lips tighten at that. “I trust him,” he says, an unusual edge buried under his tone. 

“But Prince Gon - “

“I trust him too!” Gon says. He doesn’t sound insincere at all. “He’s a lot nicer than you think, Leorio-san. Besides, it’s my fault that he’s stuck like this.”

A strange, stuck look passes across Killua’s eyes. “You trust me?” he repeats disbelievingly. “You know the old man has a point, right?”

“I’m not old!” 

“You look like you’re pushing your late thirties. How do you even have that much energy?”

“I’m twenty-two, you brat!”

A stunned silence falls across the clearing. 

Kurapika’s mouth drops open. “You’re twenty-two? You’re only two years older than me!”

“There’s no way you’re only six years older than me,” Killua says with horror. “I heard your back crack from all the way over here when you fell out of that bush.”

Gon lets out a noise of surprise. “Killua, we’re the same age!” 

“Of course we are, didn’t you know?” Killua huffs. He ducks his head. “The point is, I have royal blood but the contract didn’t break and I got stuck as an animal, too. The only thing we can do is go back to the palace and try to turn back before the deadline.” 

“But your first experiment failed,” Leorio says. “And, technically, if you really are a Zoldyck you’d have purer ‘royal blood’ than Neon Nostrade.” He squints down at Killua through his tiny glasses. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” 

Killua looks at Kurapika. “Should I?” 

“No other way around it, I think.” 

A few moments later, Killua steps off Leorio’s chest primly and lets the man get up from the ground, his suit generously stained with mud. There are scratch marks all over his face and his glasses have been knocked askew. Kurapika doesn’t look surprised by the outcome. He pokes at the fire and kicks Leorio’s foot away from the embers. 

“If I were a human, you’d be dead,” Killua says. He sits back on his haunches and flicks his paw to get black strands of hair off his leg. “It was kind of dirty of you to try and smack me with your briefcase, seeing that I’m a cat, but I’ll let it slide.” 

“That was so cool!” Gon says earnestly. “I don’t think our palace guards could take you on even as a cat.”

Kurapika shakes his head. “They wouldn’t even come close. Killua, what was our record?”

“Eight me, three you.”

“The only reason I won those three times during practice was because - let me see - once Alluka stopped us early for cookies, and the other two times - no, the other two times were fair fights.” The white cat by Kurapika’s feet gives him a toothy, prideful smile. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Killua bows his head mockingly. 

“Do you believe us now, Leorio-san?” Gon asks. “Kurapika can vouch for me, by the way; he probably has my royal seal or something.” 

Kurapika reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet bag stamped with a golden symbol. 

Leorio grumbles angrily for a few moments before he props himself up. “I don’t think I have a choice,” he says stiffly. He folds himself into a kneeling position in front of the tiny frog by the fire. “If there’s anything I can do for you, Your Majesty, please let me know. I apologize for my rudeness and disrespect from before.”

“What’s with the tone change?” Gon says. “It doesn’t matter, Leorio-san. Can I call you Leorio? There’s no need to be formal. That’s just weird. You can call me Gon.” 

Leorio looks aghast. “You’re the prince of this kingdom. Of course I have to be formal, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware who you were at first. You may call me anything you want, too.”

Gon frowns. “I liked it better before, though. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Gon’s expression leaves no room for argument, so Leorio gets to his feet reluctantly and sits down by the fire. “Pr - Gon, I just remembered something,” he says. “I live in the fishing towns around Whale Island and there’s been talk recently about a sort of witch in the forests, deep inside the swamps that gather in the mud under the trees. They say she possesses inhuman strength and a magic healing power. Do you think…?”

“Maybe she uses Nen,” Kurapika says. “You say she’s near the swamps, right? We can journey there tomorrow morning and still have time to head back to the palace. Do you know where she is, Leorio?” 

Leorio shrugs. “I’ve heard rumors. I could try. Do I get paid, though?”

“Leorio - “ 

“You dragged me into this mess,” he says. He crosses his lanky arms. “Unless this is an order , I’m not doing this without a price.”

Leorio respects the royal family, certainly, but he’s not brainless. His eyes are calculating as he sweeps a gaze over the other three. Gon hops up onto a fallen log so Leorio can see him in the wane light. 

“What do you need?” Gon says. “I can try to provide it.” 

A brief flash of surprise crosses Leorio’s face before he folds the expression away. “Your Ma - Gon, what do you have in mind?”

“Aren’t you the one asking?” 

“Well - then - three hundred million jenny,” Leorio says after a second of consideration. The number is baffling, and Killua can’t help the way his jaw drops. The man’s face is white but tight with determination. “I’ll bring you to the Nen witch for that much.” 

“Three hundred million?” Kurapika says. His voice is pitched with disbelief. “Leorio, keep yourself in check! Gon is still the prince, even if he’s asked you to refer to him informally.”

“Kurapika,” Gon blurts, startled. “Really, it’s fine. I can - “ 

Leorio slams his hands down against his knees. “Do you have any other suggestions?” he hisses. “I have no obligation to help you. In fact, if you’re working with a Zoldyck - “ 

Killua stiffens. 

“That could be considered treason, right?” 

Kurapika rises to meet Leorio’s eyes. “Watch your mouth.” 

“What the hell are you going to do about it?” Leorio spits. “Knock me out?”

“You just threatened a ranking official in the Freecss’ royal court, it’s not just going to end there. What do you even need that much money for? Three hundred million - seems suspicious, doesn’t it?”

A vein bulges in Leorio’s forehead. “You’ve got some nerve. It shouldn’t matter to you - you live pampered day in and day out. What’s some pocket change to you?”

“ Pocket change ?” Kurapika repeats. “Are you insane? You don’t know a second thing about my life or Gon’s.” 

“ Don’t know a fucking thing my ass. Have you ever been outside the palace walls and maybe taken a good look at how the other countries are doing? How other people are living - “ 

Kurapika’s eyes turn an eerie, furious shade of grey. “How dare you,” he hisses. 

“Kurapika!” Gon says sharply. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Gon, we can’t just - ”

“It’s not a problem. It’s fine.” 

Gon stares up at him until Kurapika sits down with an angry huff. “I can give you the three hundred million once we’ve turned back,” he says. “If it doesn’t work out - “ he pauses, pondering the consequences of the curse. “Even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll have Kurapika wire you the necessary money.”

“That works with me,” Leorio says. “Thank you, Gon.” 

“However - you’re not allowed to tell anyone about Killua,” Gon says. There’s an unfamiliar seriousness in his tone, and Kurapika’s eyes flicker down at him with thinly disguised surprise. “Also, I already said this, but you’re not allowed to refer to me formally anymore. We’re friends now!”

Leorio chokes on air. “Friends?” 

“Of course!” Gon says. “You’re helping us! That makes you my friend.”

The older man mulls over his words with no small amount of fascination before he offers a tentative nod. “Right. But.. Gon… about the Zoldyck?” 

“His name is Killua,” Gon cuts in. “And he’s my friend, too. Like I said, I trust him. Kurapika trusts him, too. Let’s get along, okay?”

Leorio and Kurapika exchange a heated, resentful glance, but they both dip their heads in acknowledgement. Gon turns to Killua with a cheerful bounce.

“You okay with that, Killua?”

Killua startles. He had been observing the argument quietly, sinking into the darkness as the time trickled by. He only notices the shadows looming around his body when Gon calls out to him and he moves back into the light of the fire. “Okay with what?”

“With us being friends!” 

He opens his mouth, a quick response already prepared - it’s not like I have a choice, anyways - but there’s an odd sincerity in Gon’s eyes that stops him in his tracks. Alluka had complained before of their lack of friends. She hadn’t been mad about it; she understood that they were in no position to befriend people, but there had been a certain touch of wistfulness when she talked about their restaurant. Killua isn’t sure how he feels about Leorio or Gon, but he likes Kurapika enough not to flinch whenever he walks past, and - 

You’re not fit to make friends, Killu. You’re only able to analyze whether they’re easy to kill or not. 

You could probably kill Gon and Leorio easily enough, his mind suggests. Take Kurapika out first, catch him by surprise. Of course, that would work if you were still a human. So use them until you can turn back, and then

“Killua?” Gon asks. 

He inhales carefully. “Sure,” he says, as casually as he can manage. He can blame the minute tremors vibrating up his legs on the cloying cold of the night. “Why not?” 

Gon’s face widens in a smile - or in the best imitation of a smile a frog can make. “Awesome!” he cheers, his voice bright and happy, and Killua loses his grasp on his breathing for a moment. “Let’s go find the witch, then!” 

Leorio isn’t a veterinarian of any sorts. He’s good with animals, sure, but learning how to cure them wasn’t his main interest. What he excels at is taking care of children, and something about Killua sets off his warning bells immediately.

It’s not just because he’s a Zoldyck, although he’s sure that that fact is a major reason for the deliberate distance set between the two of them. Even as a cat , Killua moves like he’s wounded. 

There’s no physical wounds on him, though, nor any obvious areas of discomfort, so it must be something else. And as much as Leorio hates the brat, he can’t deny that there’s something very wrong with the kid. 

Gon warms up to Killua so quickly that Leorio can hardly believe they just met. He doesn’t know the prince well, but Gon is so earnestly kind and enthusiastic it feels like they’ve been talking forever. He reminds him a little of Pietro with the way he bounces around the fire like his tiny body can’t control all his impulses or how he speaks his thoughts as quickly as they come to mind, his honesty unabashed and refreshing. Despite the stiff tension between Leorio and Kurapika, the atmosphere is almost amiable. 

Kurapika gets up to set up a shelter of sorts for the night - they’ll start their journey once the sun rises, as the forest can be dangerous to navigate in the dark - and Leorio unwinds his limbs to slouch onto the ground. “Oi, Killua,” he says. “What are you doing in Whale Island? Wouldn’t your family want you back?”

Killua stills slightly. “I’m not needed for missions all the time, you know. They can’t keep me at Kukuroo Mountain forever.”

“Besides,” Gon says, jumping in with excitement, “Killua is so cool! Did you know he can withstand a lightning strike without even getting hurt? And he can dislocate all his joints at will! I wish I had learned that!”

The faint stirrings of unease in Leorio’s stomach strengthen at that. “No, you don’t,” he says. “You do not wish you had learned that.”

Gon doesn’t look put off in the slightest. “Why not? Killua is so strong and I want to be like him - hey, Killua! Do you think you could teach me?”

The curl on Killua’s lips flattens slightly. Somehow Leorio can make out Killua’s expressions, even as a cat; he and Gon’s personality are just too much to be contained by… bodily weight or form or even a fucking curse. Out of the corner of his eye Leorio can see Kurapika’s movements stutter at the question. 

There’s a lot of unspoken things between these three - between Killua and Kurapika, especially, who seem to hold onto each other’s secrets - but somehow it doesn’t make Leorio more suspicious. Just a little bit cautious, maybe. 

“You wouldn’t make it through a single day of training!” Killua boasts. “Even I almost gave up after the first week. Shit is brutal .” 

“I bet I could beat you. Aunt Mito always said I was stronger than I looked.” 

Again, that weird pause in Kurapika’s breath. Again, Killua’s expression droops at the corner, a mixture of surprise and something else that Leorio can’t put his finger on. But the silence disappears so quickly he barely catalogues the moment before Killua and Gon are talking over each other again, Killua arguing that no the hell you can’t, I’m a literal trained assassin and Gon very enthusiastically taking him up on the challenge.  Leorio rubs at his forehead and glances at his watch. 

Of course the fucking thing is broken. The glass is scratched from his fall and the small hands of the clock have stopped ticking. He clicks his briefcase open and slips the watch inside.

“Hey,” he hears, and Kurapika sits down a careful few inches away from him. He tosses a few small branches into the fire. 

Leorio is too tired for this. He stiffens himself for any further jabbing and grunts out a noise of acknowledgement. 

“Why did you agree to help us?” Kurapika asks, his voice frighteningly level. There’s a controlled sort of impassiveness in his face, like he’s waiting for Leorio’s answer before he reacts. “Being out in the forest this late is dangerous. You must have been doing something before you bumped into us.”

This time, there’s no buried knife in his tone, so Leorio gives him an honest answer. “I was looking for some herbs. Nothing special. They only grow well during the nighttime and in this part of the forest, so I was out looking for them. I didn’t pack extra flashlight batteries.” 

Kurapika nods and looks across the fire. “You’re not…” he hesitates. “You don’t seem like the type to do things for the money.”

Leorio grinds his jaw shut. “And?”

Kurapika searches his face, but before he can speak Gon lets out a shout that pierces through the quiet crackling of the fire. “Killua!” he wails, much to the other boy’s mirth. “That’s not fair!” 

Based on the scratches in the dirt it looks like they were playing some sort of children’s game. Killua gleefully dances away from Gon, messing up the lines and pebbles they’ve strewn across the ground. Almost accidentally, Leorio meets Kurapika’s glance. 

“Dinner?” Kurapika says suddenly. “We’ll need to get ready to spend the night.”

Leorio blinks once, twice. “Okay,” he stutters. He gets the feeling that Kurapika was going to say something else, but he doesn’t press it. “Let’s do that.” 

It’s really hard to distrust Gon when he’s so nice. Gon should have called the guards on him the second he recognized Killua for who he was, but he had waited around to talk to him and ask him for help. Killua can’t tell if it’s because he’s stupid or because he’s confident in his ability to protect himself. The first option seems likely, the second one less so. Maybe Gon has other ideas up his sleeve.

“Sorry for getting you stuck with me, by the way,” Gon says halfway through a heated game of tag. 

Killua pauses for a fraction of a second, his paw just barely missing Gon’s leg before the frog hops into the shadows. “You’re sorry?”

“Of course I am! I dragged you into my mess.” 

“Was my fault for misunderstanding the contract,” Killua says offhandedly. He has every right to be furious at Gon, but anger isn’t going to help the situation. Besides, it’s kind of hard to think negatively of Gon in any sense. Maybe being around Alluka and Nanika has made him too soft.

“What if we can’t change back, though?” Gon says.

“There’s no point in talking about it,” he says a little too sharply. “Let’s just… let’s not, okay?”

The thickness of the trees above their heads makes it hard for Killua to pick out the moon, so there’s no way for him to tell how much time has passed since he met Gon. It’s been an hour or two at most, maybe; Kurapika and Leorio are working together silently to set up their shelter. He and Gon haven’t stopped talking until now. Their arguing and playing had almost managed to push the worry out of Killua’s mind, but Gon falls quiet for a moment and lets him think. 

The chances of them being stuck as animals are startlingly high. None of them know enough about Nen to fully understand the contract. Leorio’s lead is nebulous at most, and their time limit doesn’t allow for any more trial and error. The risk Killua put in letting Gon live when they first met, much less agreeing to help him, was so high it makes his head spin. In the worst-case scenario he can’t make it back to Alluka and Nanika and protect them. 

Oh my god, he thinks dazedly. Out of the corner of his vision Gon miscalculates a jump and almost soars right into the fire. I’ve gone fucking insane. 

As much as he trusts Kurapika (and he trusts him a lot, although he’ll never admit it out loud) he can’t keep Alluka and Nanika on Whale Island forever and expect them to be safe. The Zoldycks have contacts all over the world. He knew that as well as his other siblings did. The Zoldycks may have agreed to halt self-assigned assassination missions for the time-being, but the fear that they had sown guaranteed they had double spies at all times. Killua would often see his father receive correspondence from all over the world. Most of it was probably illegal and confidential information. 

There isn’t even a guarantee that his family doesn’t already know where he and his sisters are. If that were the case, this whole fiasco with the prince is far too conveniently timed for him to overlook. No matter how he looks at it, things would go so much smoother if he just killed Gon right here and now. The logistics could come later.

But he doesn’t want to. He hasn’t hesitated to kill since he was a kid, still clumsy-footed and empathetic and full of optimism. He’s hesitated twice since he escaped to Whale Island, though; once when Alluka saw his first encounter with Kurapika, and now with the prince. 

It’s ridiculous. It’s a stain on his reputation. He has no idea what to think. 

“Killua,” Gon says suddenly. “What’s your job like?”

He snaps back to attention. “It’s just… cooking and all of that,” he says vaguely. “I get up and stand around for eight hours or something. I clean off my apron and go home. Nothing interesting.”

Gon shakes his head. “I meant before that.” 

“Before that?”

“You were an assassin, right?”

“... Yeah, I was.”

“So did you kill people?”

“Tons.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I matched my older brother’s record - Milluki - by the time I was nine.”

Gon’s mouth drops open. “That’s so cool!”

Killua scrunches his nose. “I wouldn’t call it cool. That’s hundreds of people dead, you know.” 

“Still… that means you’re really strong, right?”

“Very. Not as strong as my parents or my eldest brother, but they said I’m coming close.” 

“Did you like it?”

“I didn’t have to like the job to do it. Besides, I was really good.” Killua’s voice trickles out slightly before he regains his train of thought again. “You know, at killing people.” 

“You didn’t answer the question.” 

“It doesn’t matter if I liked it or not,” he says. The words come out harsher than intended, but Gon doesn’t back away. He just stares up at Killua with unnervingly human eyes. “I just completed the mission and came back home and trained. There wasn’t any room to like or dislike it.” 

“I guess you didn’t like it too much, then,” Gon muses. Killua has to bite down the urge to smack him with his paw. “Is that why you came to Whale Island?”

Across the clearing, Kurapika and Leorio have started gathering more timber for the fire. Leorio stacks a new log and the flames roar around it, sparks of orange and black punching through the air. “I guess, yeah,” Killua says finally. 

“What’s your family like?”

“Do you ask all your friends this many questions?”

Gon beams up at him. “I didn’t really have any other friends other than Kurapika. He’s interesting, but I already know him really well.” He flaps his foot. “We met a long time ago.” 

Killua blinks in surprise. His short impression of the prince in the ballroom had been overwhelmingly positive. It seemed unlikely that someone as kind and enthusiastic as Gon would have so few friends. “Don’t you talk to other people, though?”

“Yeah, lots of people,” Gon says offhandedly. “But they’re all like, adults or older kids who are trying to get Aunt Mito’s favor or something. There aren’t any kids my age in the palace.” 

“Sounds lonely.”

“I guess. There’s a lot to do, though! I could show you around sometime.” 

Killua squints at him. “I’m your kingdom’s greatest enemy, but sure,” he says disbelievingly. “Take me on a tour around the center of the kingdom. That’d be great.”

Gon tilts his head. “I think it’d be nice.”

Not for the first time that night Killua marvels at how Gon had managed to survive the last sixteen years. Even in the tolerant Freecss Kingdom, politics could get heated, and someone as straightforward and naive as Gon wouldn’t be able to navigate the hidden knives and coded messages that came with diplomatic meetings between nations. “You’re an idiot,” he tells him.

“Kurapika calls me that a lot,” Gon responds. “I guess you two are really close, huh?”

“You make it sound like that’s a good thing.” 

Gon laughs heartily at that, but his eyes are still curious and questioning and Killua decides to spare him from having to ask any more questions. 

“I got bored,” he says. “I was supposed to be the heir to the kingdom, not just because I’m a spitting copy of my dad but also because I have the most potential out of my siblings. I hated the responsibility so I just - “ he shrugs. “I just ran, I guess.”

“So it’s kind of like what happened tonight,” Gon says contemplatively. His words are half-murmured, like he’s not sure he wants Killua to hear him. Louder, he continues, “Wouldn’t they come looking for you?”

“Oh, they are. At least, I think so. Even I can’t detect them sometimes. I’ve had to move around a lot to escape them.” 

“You’re still a kid though… sixteen, just like me. And you have an older brother, too. They could probably let you out every so often.” 

Killua scuffs at the dirt under his paws. He’s still not used to having four legs. “We’re a kingdom of assassins. You can’t expect us to work the same way as you do.”

Gon hums in acknowledgement. “They still love you though, right?”

His heart stutters derisively. “Do they love me?” he repeats. “Well, fuck, I have no clue. I guess my mom’s kind of obsessed with me, and my dad lets me off the hook sometimes, but I don’t know about the rest of them. We only really interact during training and missions and whatever. I couldn’t give a damn about any of them except my sisters.” 

“That doesn’t sound like… wait, sisters?” Gon says curiously. “What are they like?”

It’s starting to get cold enough that Killua shivers slightly, his body trembling for a second before he forces himself to still. Somehow, Gon is still full of energy, often hopping away from Killua to take a lap around the campfire before returning to his spot. “They’re younger than me by a year. They’re really good bakers, especially with cookies and brownies and the like. Alluka really likes decorating things but Nanika is the one who makes sure they use all the right measurements and stuff.” 

“What do they look like?”

Killua hesitates. “They’re… they’re in the same body, if that makes sense. They really like this one dress; it’s pink and green and it’s kind of frayed because they’ve worn it so much, so I want to patch it up someday. Uh, they also wear a headband with patterns on it and beads in their hair. They have blue eyes, like me, but their hair is black and they have a really nice smile. Alluka’s the one who’s awake most of the time.” He casts Gon a careful glance. “Nanika talks to Alluka a lot, and Alluka tells me what she’s thinking about.”

“That’s cool!” Gon says. “They must be really pretty. They take after you.” 

A jolt of warmth spreads through Killua’s body. If he wasn’t acutely aware of how dark the night was around them, he would have thought the sun was out. “You can’t just go around saying things like that,” he hisses. “Don’t you ever find it weird?”

“What’s weird?”

“Just - calling random people pretty!” 

Gon gives him a curious look. “I was just telling the truth. About your sisters and you, I mean.” 

“I’m going to smack you,” Killua says, and bemoans the lack of his hands. He settles for batting at Gon with his tail. 

The prince easily hops out of the way and secures a footing on a low-lying branch right above Killua’s head. Whoever cursed him was a good actor. All of the small mannerisms and quirks Gon displays as a frog were mirrored perfectly on the boy in the ballroom. The Nen user must have studied him for a long time, almost replicating his actions exactly. 

“What’s your aunt like?” Killua asks. 

Gon cracks a smile. “Asking about me now, huh? I thought you knew a lot about me already.”

“Only the boring stuff,” Killua says dismissively. “Like, your age and weight and all that. Nothing personal.”

There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence. “I feel like you’re not telling me the extent of the information you were given.”

“It’s not my fault my family is a whole line of assassins,” Killua snaps. He doesn’t blush, per se, but his ears definitely heat up. “The information they gave me was all technical. It was supposed to help me k - anyways. You asked some shit about me. Now I get to ask you shit.”

Gon gives him an amused look. “She’s really nice,” he says. “She used to be stricter with me - I guess she was worried - but she’s always let me do what I want to do. She was really happy when we met Kurapika because there was finally someone else who could keep up with me, you know?” Gon laughs fondly. “Kurapika was really quiet at first, though. And angry all the time. But he’s actually really nice and funny to be around!”

“He’s nice to you? He’s always trying to get under my skin.”

“Isn’t that mutual for you two?”

“... True. It sounds like Whale Island is pretty nice, huh?”

“It is! The people here are always nice and there’s a lot of hiding spots on the beaches, and the sailors that come to port every so often bring the coolest stories. You know about the Dark Continent, right? They’d always swap stories about the journeys they’d gone on in the seas bordering the Dark Continent and stuff like that”

Killua nods. “My dad told me about it sometimes. He hated it because he knew nothing about it, and if you’re an assassin, not knowing means dying. I thought it was pretty cool.”

“It’s nice to not know things, sometimes,” Gon says. He lets his words fade out as he scans the air, looking for the rest of his thoughts. “I mean, to not have things handed to you in a book or something. Maybe it’s less convenient to learn, but at least then you have the choice of looking for things on your own, right?”

Killua gets the idea that he’s speaking from personal experience. 

“What was training like?” Gon asks. 

“Hold on a second. I’ve barely asked you anything.”

“We can do twenty questions! You take the next turn.”

“Fucking - fine.” Killua glances up at the sky and squints through the trees. He can make out a silver tendril of light, but the rest of his vision is blotted by the steady column of smoke rising from the fire. “Most of it was torture training. Learning to resist poisons, building endurance, stuff like that. Sometimes I’d spar with my siblings. One of the butlers would tutor me over the weekends, but otherwise everything was up to my family.” 

“Torture?”

Killua clicks his tongue. “It’s my turn to ask. Do you like being a prince?”

“Hm? I guess, sort of… Back to the torture question.” 

“What sort of answer is that?” 

“No complaining! I answered the question.”

Killua narrows his eyes, curious, but drops the topic. “Do you really want to know about the torture I went through? I don’t think you could take it.”

Gon lifts his chin stubbornly. “Try me.” 

Killua opens his mouth, a number of quick retorts prepared on his tongue, but they die out one after another. He can talk about the training he went through, but Gon isn’t the type to be interested in short, vague answers. There’s no good way to put sixteen years of hell (he can’t find a better word for it; it was suffering, and it was hard, but the training was as natural and as expected as the correlation between heaven and hell) into coherent words. He’s still struggling to find a decent way to phrase it without diving too deep into the gorey details - he’s sure Gon has a strong enough stomach, but some of it is honestly too weird to share around a campfire - when Kurapika gets to his feet suddenly and catches their attention. 

“Gon, Killua,” Kurapika says briskly. “We’ll need to prepare dinner. Leorio, you know the terrain better than I do. Is there anything we can eat for tonight?” 

Leorio brushes dust off of his suitcase and slings it over his shoulder. “Yeah, we can probably find some root vegetables and rabbits. It’s pretty hard to hunt around here at night, but I don’t think we’ll starve.” 

“That’s all we need.” Kurapika looks down at Gon and watches him test out his new limbs with interest. “Do you two know what you’re going to eat? It might be a little odd, considering you’ve transformed and normal food might not work with your stomachs.”

Killua bats his tail in the air dismissively. He’s starting to enjoy having it there - it works wonders for his four-legged balance, and it’s a good way of expressing his emotions now that he doesn’t have a human face. “I’ll catch a rabbit or something,” he says. “But, Gon - “ 

Gon pauses, his long tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Huh?” he asks. “What about me?” 

“You’re a frog now,” Killua says. “You can’t eat things like meat or - I don’t think you can eat plants, at least. You’re going to have to catch some flies or something.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

Kurapika and Killua exchange a concerned look. “That’s all you have to say?” Kurapika says. “You know, while bugs are technically a good source of nutrition, especially for frogs, the mental shift might be…” he shudders delicately. “It might be a little odd.” 

Gon looks undisturbed. He hops eagerly onto the top of Killua’s head and sticks his tongue out at Kurapika. “That’s the fun part!” he says. “I’ve always wanted to try eating bugs! Aunt Mito would tell me that there were people who ate massive grasshoppers and crickets but she never let me taste them. Hey, Killua, I think there’s a stream or something around here - could you carry me over there? I’m sure there will be a lot of flies there.”

Killua sneezes delicately as Gon’s leg brushes his nose. “You’re really weird, you know that?” he says. 

“I know,” Gon says. “You’re kind of strange too, Killua.”

“Me? Strange? Have you seen yourself?”

“In a good way,” Gon continues, knocking the breath out of his chest. “I heard a little bit about you from Aunt Mito when I was growing up, but you’re a better person than I thought you’d be.”

Killua adjusts his paws and thanks the gods that cats don’t blush. “Shut up,” he says. “You’re as lame as my parents said you’d be.”

The frog on his head lets out an affronted gasp. “I take back everything nice I said about you.”

“Oi, Kurapika!” Leorio shouts, his voice echoing between their banter. “Are you ready to go? I found some string we can use for traps.”

Kurapika shifts by Killua’s side. “Looks like I have to go,” he says. There’s a knowing look in his eye when he adjusts his jacket around his shoulders. “Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t wander too far in.” 

“Don’t worry,” Killua says. “Gon will be fine in the water, and I’ll keep an eye on him. How did you even deal with him as a human, anyways?”

Kurapika huffs out a breath of laughter. “You can’t deal with him,” he says fondly. His eyes soften as he watches Gon experiment with shooting his tongue at different angles. “He’ll drag you everywhere if you aren’t careful. The best way to protect him is to just stay by his side and don’t let go of his hand. Do you understand what I mean?”

Killua pauses. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Right.” Kurapika’s mouth twists up wryly. “Leorio and I will be back in a little bit. Don’t fall into the pond looking for Gon, alright?” 

Killua blinks up at him. Two people can play this game. “As if,” he says offhandedly. “Hurry up and go. I know you want to spend time with the idiot.” 

If Kurapika’s step stutters on his words, neither of them comment on it. Killua flicks his tail in satisfaction. 

"Can we go now?" Gon says. "I zoned out for a second. Having to look down a long tongue is interesting. What were you and Kurapika talking about?" 

“It’s nothing,” Killua says. “He just wants you to be careful. We don’t know what’s in the water.”

“He’s always worried about me, isn’t he?”

Killua lifts a shoulder. “I wouldn’t say he’s worried,” he says. “He knows you can handle yourself. Just cautious. Sometimes you can be a little stupid.” 

Gon croaks angrily. “Killua!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Killua lifts his paw and licks it uninterestedly. “Let’s hurry up. I’m tired.” 

With no small amount of grumbling Gon jumps up his back and nestles behind his ears. There’s a little jolt in the space under Killua’s chest and he pauses for a moment before setting out towards the smell of water. The sensation doesn’t fade no matter how quickly he walks. 

With Gon’s uncanny ability to search for things and Killua’s enhanced senses they quickly make their way to a small, slow moving brook filled with debris. It looks and smells muddy and Killua wrinkles his nose as he inches towards the stream.”Sure you can find anything here?” Killua says, but Gon is already a step ahead of him, springboarding right off Killua and into the water. Killua watches him swim around for a few minutes, the silence of the forest punctuated by Gon’s splashing and the faint buzzing of bugs. A moth flits across Killua’s nose, its delicate wings catching the wane light of the moon, before it disappears into the darkness. 

The urge to jump into the water is overpowering until he takes a closer look and notices flies buzzing all about the surface of it. Gon looks like he’s having the time of his life, exclaiming with surprise whenever he catches one, but Killua backs further away from the brook and lets him play around until he gets tired. Killua finds himself a dry spot on the ground to sit on. 

“So how does it feel?” Killua asks.

The frog at the edge of the water hops to join him. “How does what feel?” Gon asks, his voice big and awkward in his mouth. 

“To be out of the palace.” 

“I’ve been outside of the palace before,” Gon says. “Aunt Mito takes me to the beach every summer. And we go exploring in the woods sometimes.”

Killua furrows his eyebrows. Or does his best to. He’s not entirely sure how well his expressions come off now that he’s a cat. “But you had guards, didn’t you?” 

“I guess, yeah. Kurapika came along a lot. That was nice.”

“That wasn’t really being out of the palace, then.”

“Maybe not.” 

“So this is like freedom.”

“Killua,” Gon says. “We were chased out of the palace.”

“I know.”

“By me. ”

“A copy of you.”

“Yeah, but - “

Killua gives him a look. The little frog lets out a sigh - impressive, because Killua didn’t even know that frogs had the vocal capacity to sigh - and looks out over the water. 

“But,” Gon says quietly. “I.. really liked it.”

“Being chased?” Killua asks dryly. 

“I’m gonna sound crazy, but a little bit,” Gon says. “Like - the palace is fun and Kurapika is awesome and there’s lots to do but it’s… still a palace, right? Like I know I’ll run into the wall at some point. I can almost count the distance to it with my eyes closed. Even though we almost died - at least it was something I got to choose to do. You know?” 

Killua stares at him for a long while. It’s sort of weird because he only got to see Gon for a few minutes - and it wasn’t even really Gon, it was some sort of fake Gon, an actor in a play - but he feels like he can read his mannerisms perfectly. He can almost see the boy huddled on the bank with his knees tucked to his chest, fingers drawing patterns in the water and tapping out the number of stars in the sky. 

“You’re kinda crazy,” he says finally. 

Gon huffs out a croak. “Thanks.” 

“But you’re interesting,” he continues. He is suddenly extremely thankful for the body he’s been forcibly thrown into, because if he coughs too loudly after his sudden confession he can blame it on a hairball. “And I kind of get it. Like - assassin, right? Family trade and all that. Even normal inherited businesses can be kinda restricting. But killing people ? That warrants another level of Control Freak. And my parents were already weird from the beginning.” Killua attempts to shrug his shoulders. “You’re tied down by your dad and the people before him and royal families are boring and limited because they’re deathly afraid of losing their blood permanence on the throne, like that even matters. Sometimes I just want to go wild, right? Do something that hasn’t been done before. That’s how innovation happens, not through hoarding power in your kids or something stupid like that.” 

Gon is quiet for a moment. “So you’re enabling my escape from my responsibilities,” he says, but there’s an amused tone in his voice. 

“I’m enabling your escape from one set of responsibilities,” Killua corrects. “Doing whatever the fuck makes you happy is a pretty big responsibility, too.”

“Is it hard?”

A beat. “Yeah,” Killua says a little haltingly. “I guess it is.” 

“Your sisters?” Gon says softly.

“Uh-huh.” Killua lifts a paw to run through his hair. He realizes halfway through that the action is useless and he drops his leg. “You know about the whole baking thing that I do - that’s why Kurapika brought me to the palace - but I didn’t originally… care about getting a restaurant or anything. I just happened to be good at cooking and baking. But my sisters really wanted to get a restaurant of their own one day. So when I brought them here I made sure that was my main priority.” He lets out a slight laugh. “I guess at some point I started wanting it myself, too. Not sure though.”

“What do you mean, not sure?”

“I don’t really have any desires of my own,” Killua says. He’s not sure how much Gon really gets, but the little frog at his feet looks up at him attentively and he tries to put his childhood into words. “Just - I was only alive during assassination missions. I could think then. Choose a strategy. Kill the target. Don’t get seen. Wipe the blood off and come back home. After that it was back to training. When you’re dead your brain shuts down, right? Like you can’t think or anything. Shit just happens to you. That's what training was like. There wasn’t any room for what I wanted or didn’t want.” 

Gon processes his words for a moment. There’s not a hint of discomfort on his face, just quiet interest and deliberation. There’s not very much that can surprise him, Killua thinks - probably because Gon is so curious and imaginative that even the most unrealistic of tales are just daydreams to him. It’s a refreshing change from wariness (Kurapika at first) and fear (Leorio, upon hearing that Killua was a Zoldyck). 

“You wanted your sisters to be safe,” Gon points out. “You still do.” 

“Well, there’s that. It’s not really grand or anything, though. That’s just what I have to do as a brother.”

“You can always look for a selfish desire later,” Gon says. “And it doesn’t have to be anything big. Like, maybe it’s just stealing the last slice of cake for yourself.”

Killua gives him a look.

“Maybe not that simple,” Gon amends, a little laugh bubbling through his throat. “I guess people talk about like - money and love and power and stuff. Those are pretty big desires. You can look for those later. You could - “ and his voice dips a little like he’s shy, like the words hesitate before they come out. “You could travel the world with me and figure out what you want.” 

“You’re planning to travel the world,” Killua says slowly. “And you want me to come?”

Gon stares at the ground firmly. “I guess.” 

“We met a few hours ago.”

“So?”

“Gon,” Killua mumbles. “You’re really fucking weird, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” Gon demands. 

“You can’t just ask people to travel the world with you. Like, I’m gonna have a restaurant I’ll have to tend to.”

“Take a vacation, then.” 

“I can’t just leave and take a vacation to go sightseeing with a random ass prince.”

“Why not?”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“I said,” Gon challenges, “Why not? Why can’t you just go with me?” 

“Gon - “

“What if I said that was what I wanted?”

A moment of silence stretches like a rubber band between them, stretching thin and breathless until Killua lets out a stuttered breath. “I mean,” he says. He feels off-balanced, the ground pulled out from under his feet “I mean, if that’s what you want, I guess. I could want that too.”

“And you can find what you want as we’re like - “ Gon waves a limb. “Sightseeing.”

“Sightseeing,” Killua repeats, and inhales slightly. “Yeah. Sightseeing. We can do that.”

A firefly flits across the lake and illuminates the surface of it with a lonely green light. 

“It’s getting really late,” Gon says lamely. “Do you want to go to sleep or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine with me,” Killua says. “We should probably head back to Kurapika and Leorio.” 

Gon hops onto the top of his head and Killua begins the trek back to their camp, following the smell of the fire Leorio had set. A minute passes in silence, the night snapping and stretching around his footsteps. 

“Do you have any idea?” Gon blurts suddenly. 

“Any idea of what?”

“Of what you want.” 

Killua can’t exactly turn to look at him - he’s a cat and Gon is a frog and Gon is nestled between his ears, so any form of eye contact is kind of off the table - but he does tilt his head a little and his pace slows slightly. When he does answer, he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders - like there’s a laugh sitting right under his words, a relieved, happy noise. 

“I think I’m getting there,” he says. “Thanks, Gon.” 

They lapse back into silence for the rest of the night. It’s a comfortable sort of emptiness. 

Leorio had originally planned to help Kurapika navigate the forest for hunting, but it turned out the royal official was more than capable at catching his own prey, nearly outstripping Leorio with the amount of food he brings back. He helps Leorio cook and prepare the meat, his eyes flickering through the trees for any movement. 

“Do you think Gon and Killua are okay?” Leorio asks, splitting the meat in half and handing him his portion. 

“There isn’t anything out here. Not that I can hear, anyways. They can take care of themselves.”

“Even the prince?”

Kurapika gives him a look, but it’s not as heated as before. “You seem to have the misconception that he grew up coddled.” 

“He’s the prince . No one has properly seen him outside of the palace until today.” Leorio takes a bite out of his food and wipes at the juice that drips down his chin. “The queen doesn’t feel like the type to purposely keep him locked up, though, so I just assumed he was spoiled.” 

“I guess I could see how you drew that conclusion,” Kurapika says tersely. “It’s wrong, though.”

Leorio glances at him. The fire plays off his blonde hair and makes it shine like gold under the flickering light. Leorio coughs, suddenly embarrassed, and looks away. “I won’t press it,” he says, noticing how the tension in Kurapika’s hands drains away slightly. “He’s a good kid.” 

Kurapika’s eyes crinkle. “He is,” he says fondly. “He’s a good prince.” 

As they’re eating Kurapika reaches into his pocket and pulls out what appears to be a small bottle. He tilts his head back and lifts it over his eyes, squeezing in a drop of liquid into one eye and then the other. He blinks rapidly and then turns back to his food. 

“Eye droplets?” Leorio asks, before he can stop himself.

Kurapika nods. “Just for moisturizing,” he says. “I wear contacts.”

“Color changing?” If they were a different shade from his normal eyes, Leorio doesn’t understand why Kurapika would choose grey. Grey was a fairly uncommon eye color, after all, and people generally favored brighter colors to it. The color wasn’t ill-fitting on Kurapika, though. The light of the fire caught off the color and made his eyes look gentler, calmer. “Or vision correcting?”

Kurapika finishes off the rest of his meat, pulling the pieces off of the stick he cooked it on, and tosses it into the fire. “Neither.” 

Leorio raises an eyebrow. “What do they do, then?”

He gets a wan smile in turn. 

Before Leorio can push that train of thought, Kurapika dusts off his pants and moves to stand up. He’s about to make his way to their makeshift shelter when he stiffens suddenly. 

“What is it?” Leorio asks. 

Kurapika’s shoulders tighten and he says, icily, “There’s a spider.” 

“Of course there’s spiders,” Leorio says. “If it bothers you, just grab one of those branches and smack it. There aren’t any venomous species in the area, so don’t worry.” 

He doesn’t receive an answer. “Kurapika?” he asks cautiously. “Are you okay?” 

The line of his shoulders is wound tight. “It’s nothing.”

Leorio stands up. He reaches out and then hesitates, withdrawing his hand before it lands on Kurapika’s arm. “Your teeth are chattering. Are you cold?”

“I’m not, ” Kurapika hisses. His skin is sickly pale. 

“Is it the spider?”

The flinch he gets is enough of an answer.

“Okay,” Leorio says quietly. He might not know Kurapika that well at all, but he can recognize signs of anxiety better than anyone else.  “I’m going to kill that spider. It’s not going to come any closer to you. If we see any more, I’ll get rid of those too. Breathe in, okay?” 

He wedges himself in front of Kurapika and picks up a stick, squinting in front of him for the spider. It’s a small, furry thing, its eyes illuminated by the fire’s inconsistent light. Carefully, he smashes it flat and then kicks it several feet away. For good measure, he makes sure it's completely under a bush and covered with leaves before he checks on Kurapika again. 

“Better now?”

Kurapika’s face is still damp with sweat, but he takes in a steadying breath. His eyes flicker close. When he opens them again, his expression is calmer. “Somewhat.” 

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Leorio says. He scans the ground. “It might help get your mind off of it.”

“Maybe,” Kurapika sighs. He sits down heavily. “Got any campfire stories? Childhood tales? We might as well pass the time.”

“Childhood - It was nothing interesting. I don’t have too many stories, either.” 

“You seem like the type to have a lot of siblings,” Kurapika says. His tone is thoughtful, questioning. 

“Older brother.” 

“Mm. A family person?”

Leorio huffs out a breath and turns back to his food. “You know,” he says, keeping his voice casual, “I never answered your question from before.”

“Which question?”

“About what I needed the money for. You said I didn’t seem like the type to do things just for money.” 

Kurapika’s eyes latch onto his face, cautious and shrewd. “You don’t have to tell me. As long as you’re helping the prince, I have no complaints.” 

“No, you’re right - it’s a lot of money,” Leorio says. He rubs his hands over the slight stubble on his jaw. “You deserve to know.”

Kurapika stares at him curiously before dipping his head. “If you’re comfortable, then I’d be glad to listen.” 

The fire is starting to die at the edges, firewood crumbling into grey ash and black coal. Leorio gets up to toss another log in. 

“Three hundred million jenny - that’s the average cost for a medical education,” Leorio says. He lets out a short laugh when Kurapika’s jaw drops with poorly hidden shock. “It’s a lot, right? You can get it for cheaper, or go for quicker degrees - but that’s how much money it takes to become a doctor.”

“If you grew up in the slums or from one of the poorer countries, even a basic medical education seems impossible. Most of the doctors where I grew up were self-taught, using the natural medicines they’d learned about from their relatives and whatever old textbooks they could get their hands on.” 

“My family was a little like that,” Kurapika says quietly. “We depended on herbs and natural remedies more than modern medicine.”

Leorio blinks in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

Kurapika coughs pointedly, evidently remembering their argument from earlier. Leorio flashes him a sheepish smile. 

“Anyways - I grew up as one of the older siblings in a big family, so my parents taught me how to patch wounds up and whatnot from a pretty young age. I know some of my brothers and sisters hated it - some of them didn’t like seeing blood and others were just… more interested in other things, but I thought it was cool.” Leorio shakes his head fondly. “I’d always ask my mom and dad to teach me about all the herbs in the garden or how best to splint a broken bone and things like that. I remember they’d always tell me I’d grow up to be a great doctor.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then adds, “I didn’t realize that all those nights they spent arguing was because they were trying to save up as much money as they could to get me out of the town we were in. They never hated each other or anything like that. They were just worried.” 

“You were just a kid,” Kurapika says. “And some parents are really that bad. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Leorio just stares into the fire dully. 

“Everyone in the village was close to each other - we had to be, considering the circumstances - but my best friend was a boy named Pietro,” he continues. “He was outgoing and optimistic and he always took care of the other kids. I remember some of the aunts and uncles in the village would leave their children with us when they had to go out.” 

There’s a soft curve to Kurapika’s lips as Leorio holds his arms out in a circle, mimicking the way he had to herd the kids gathered around his legs. “He sounds like a lovely person.” 

“He was.”

“Was?”

Leorio drops his arms back into his lap. “It might have been something he ate or just the shit amount of pollution in the air,” he says. “He got sick. It was a curable illness, but none of us had the money to afford treatment.” 

“Leorio,” Kurapika whispers.

“I knew there was a cure, but I couldn’t do anything but replace the towel on his head and wrap him in blankets and feed him water soup. So I used all the money my parents saved up to get me into Whale Island, but guess what?” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs bitterly. “All those years of saving and trading were barely enough to get me a few months of rent. And then when I tried to become a doctor - well. Forget the cost of the cure. It costs even more to just get into university. How ironic is that? You have to pay an arm and a leg if you want to save other people.” Leorio drops his head into his hands. “It’s so much easier to be selfish, isn’t it?”

Kurapika lets him get his breathing under control again. “You’re a good person, Leorio.” 

“Really?” Leorio snorts derisively. “Sure. I try my best.”

“I mean it,” Kurapika says. He blinks, as if surprised by his own honesty, and flushes slightly. Or maybe that’s the fire playing off of his cheekbones. “You’re right. It’s a lot easier to be selfish and to chase your own goals. It’s cheaper, too. I’m sorry for questioning you earlier.” 

Leorio waves his hand dismissively. “It’s fine. No need to talk so formally. You had a good reason to wonder. I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“For assuming you and Gon were spoiled. I was just a little heated at that moment.” 

Kurapika smiles hollowly. “Don’t worry about it. Actually, while we’re waiting for Gon and Killua - looks like they’re taking their time - I just got reminded of this one story.” He shifts in his seat into a more comfortable position. “Do you want to hear it?”

Leorio looks at him through the corner of his eye. “What’s it about?”

“It’s nothing important.” Kurapika shrugs his shoulders. “I just think it’s interesting to tell. Besides, you’ve already shared a story with me. It’s only right that I reciprocate the action.” 

“If you insist.” 

“You’ve heard of the Kurtas, right?” Kurapika says. “They lived in a mountain to the north of Whale Island.” 

“I think some of the books I read referenced them slightly, yeah,” Leorio says. “They used to be known for their special brand of medicine, but they stopped interacting with other countries decades ago. I thought they had all died or something.” 

Kurapika pokes at the fire. Embers shoot off the ashy wood and tumble into the dirt, flickering a bright orange once before fading to black. “They did die, just not that early,” he says. “For many years after they withdrew from trading with kingdoms they were able to sustain themselves on the resources found in the mountains. They eventually developed a lifestyle that depended on their invisibility - they moved upwards into wild terrain and covered their tracks so adventurers wouldn’t be able to find them.”

“It must take a lot of work to hide an entire clan,” Leorio observes. “What were they trying to hide? Their medicinal secrets?”

Kurapika shakes his head. “They never wanted to hide that. They believed in helping everyone, regardless of their background. Many of the Kurta elders made sure to release as much knowledge as they could to the public before disappearing.”

“Then, what..?” 

“There’s something they didn’t tell people,” Kurapika starts. His eyes are as dark as stones. “The Kurtas were blessed with the Scarlet Eyes. Some people with Kurta blood had eyes that would change into the purest shade of red known to man when they felt strong emotion, positive or negative. These eyes existed only within the Kurta clan and were only passed down every century or so.” He cracks an empty husk of a smile. “And you know how it is with rare things. People have to steal them.” 

Leorio opens his mouth. His words die on his tongue. 

Kurapika stirred the ashes at his feet slowly. “It’s amazing what greed can do to people,” he says thoughtfully. “Not even greed - just curiosity. A few years back, a boy from the Kurta clan convinced his elder to let him into the marketplaces at the bottom of the mountain. He wanted to see the outside world, believing that his clan’s fear of being exposed was unreasonable. He was given a test to see if he was worthy of straying outside the borders of the clan. The Kurtas had developed a medicine that would respond if their eyes turned red. If their eyes turned red during the test, the medicine would preserve that red color and reveal their failure upon their return. The elder gave this boy a bottle of it, instructing him to squeeze two droplets into each of his eyes, and told him to come back before the sun set.” 

“The market was filled with very average people. No criminals, no nobles, just normal peasants and farmers living simple lives and abiding by simple morals. This boy brought a friend with him who could not see - an anomaly within the Kurtas, for even those without the Scarlet Eyes had exceptional vision. This friend bumped into the wrong person. A fight broke out.” 

The fire is hot against their hands. 

“What happened to him?” Leorio asks. His voice dies halfway out of his chest, but Kurapika seems to hear him. 

“Him?” Kurapika repeats, as if surprised. “Oh, he was fine. He saved his friend. He was angry, though. The Kurtas were a peaceful sort and most tensions were dissolved immediately by the elders. Violence was unforgivable to this boy - especially such needless violence.”

“...Did he use the eye droplets?”

Kurapika stills. The small curve of his lips turns wane and disdainful, and he shakes his head. “His friend said they weren’t necessary,” he says. “Youthful pride does things to you. They thought they’d be fine.”

“So did he have the Scarlet Eyes?” Leorio asks. His stomach is cold, an anchor sinking through his legs. 

“The townspeople were scared,” Kurapika says. “I can’t blame them - leading a simple life means having strict borders, protecting your boundaries with your life. If you live modestly and routinely, anything outside of that becomes a threat.” The fire makes his skin look bleached white. “It’s strange. Over the past years, I’ve found that the people who are most aggressive are the ones that have been injured the most - who have been subjected to violence their entire lives and still believe in kindness - and the ones who live the most peaceful of lives, who have never experienced a wrongdoing but are paranoid of anything that pushes the lines of their comfort zone.” 

“Killua’s not that aggressive,” Leorio blurts. He snaps his mouth shut; he’s not sure why the assassin had come to mind immediately, but Kurapika just gives him an understanding look. “I mean - “

Kurapika laughs and the sound is less strained than his voice before. “No, I understand,” he says. “Killua was very guarded when I first met him. I don’t doubt that if I had said the wrong thing, he would have killed me. But he has his sisters, Alluka and Nanika - he hasn’t told you about them yet, but they’re why he left Kukuroo Mountain - and he cares for them more than he believes he’s a bad person.” He pauses. “Which is saying a lot, considering the type of person he is. I wouldn’t say he isn’t aggressive, but he’s not a violent person.”

“He did kill people,” Leorio observes. The argument is an ashy one at best, though.

“He could have killed Gon when they first met,” Kurapika points out. “I don’t doubt that his instincts were telling him to do exactly that. His limits may be much looser than ours - to abuse, at least - but I’m sure a talking frog would have warranted some level of caution.”

Leorio lets out a fond breath. “You’re right as always, sunshine,” he says. Sunshine? The surprise from everything that had transpired earlier must be loosening his tongue. “But if he enjoys clawing at shins when he’s a human as much as he does as a cat right now, I don’t know if I’ll ever agree with you. I’m pretty sure he purposely scratched me everytime he passed me while he was playing tag with Gon.” 

Kurapika’s eyes flicker to him quickly. “I suppose we’ll never see face to face, then,” he says amusedly. 

“Is he really like that as a kid, too?”

“All I’ll say is that his transformation into a cat is very suitable with his personality.” 

“Hmph. Shame. I was beginning to think I could like him.” 

Kurapika smiles slightly. “Anyways,” he says, his voice becoming serious again, “news of the boy with brilliant red eyes started to spread down the mountain. The Kurtas were in the blind about this, and the boy had no idea what he had done. The word eventually reached an infamous group of thieves called the Phantom Troupe.” 

“The ones with the spider tattoos? I’ve heard of them.”

“Yes, the Genei Ryodan . The Scarlet Eyes at that point were more legend than fact, and they jumped on the chance to seize the myth for themselves. They managed to locate the Kurta clan and wipe them out in a single night.” Kurapika brushes at his hair, his long bangs falling across his eyes. “The boy from before was coincidentally out for an expedition after passing his test. He came back to a road of corpses. The eyes of many had been gouged out.”

Leorio swallows. “The Scarlet Eyes stay red after death?”

Kurapika nods. “If you trigger the coloring right before their death, the Scarlet Eyes are preserved,” he says dully. “The Phantom Troupe forced the Kurtas with Scarlet Eyes to witness the slaughter and destruction of their clan. The entire place was burnt down and in a mere moment, the entire population of Kurtas had vanished from the earth. Except one, of course.” He shrugs. “Depressing, isn’t it? That’s my campfire story of the day.”

“Kurapika.” 

“What? It’s just a legend,” Kurapika says. “There’s no proof that it really happened. The Kurtas might still be in hiding for all we know.” 

“Your eyes,” Leorio says. “Did they ever turn red after that?”

Kurapika turns his head to look at him. “After what?” 

“You said you didn’t blame the townspeople for being afraid. That boy was you.”

Kurapika exhales. “I didn’t think you’d catch that.”

“I listen to you, sunshine. I wasn’t drifting off. You weren’t trying to hide it much, anyways.” 

“I guess I wasn’t,” Kurapika says. He laughs lightly. “I guess I’m still a little stressed from all of that. I gave it away when I talked about the Phantom Troupe, didn’t I?” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Leorio says. Kurapika’s back straightens at that. Evidently, he hit the nail right on the head. “It doesn’t hurt to let things out once in a while.” 

There’s a brief second of silence, the wood shifting under the weight of the fire. “Twice,” Kurapika says finally. “I wear colored contacts most of the time now, and I’ve gotten better at controlling myself. But they’ve turned red twice after I left the mountain.” 

“When?”

“Is it really that important to know?” Kurapika asks. There’s a sharp edge to his tone. 

Leorio reaches over and lays his hand over his, softens the bite in Kurapika’s voice. “You said strong emotion. You never said it had to be negative, right?” 

Kurapika doesn’t respond. “You’re allowed to be happy, Kurapika,” Leorio says. “You can be selfish with your own emotions. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

It’s starting to get cold, but Kurapika barely shivers at all. If the line of his shoulder tenses slightly, neither of them comment on it. “The first time was when I met Gon,” he says. The words skip like slick river stones through his throat. “I was - angry. Lost. He should have been frightened, but he said my eyes were cool.” He laughs. “He was barely up to my waist then. He's always been small. I cried three times that night, twice after he dragged me back to the palace to meet Her Highness.” 

He slips his hand out of Leorio’s. The wind is bitter on their palms. “The second time was after I met Killua,” he says. “It felt like the roles had been reversed. His eyes are a rare shade of blue, too. He was stealing meat from the storehouse of a town by the beach. I was the first person who ever noticed him. It was only because Alluka saw me that he didn’t decapitate me right then and there. He let me into their hideout, although he moved places right after I left. It took me ages to find him again.” 

“I think he knew I was a Kurta immediately,” Kurapika says. “I have no idea how, but his levels of perception are terrifying. By sheer luck I managed to befriend him and help him get a house near the forest. There was a day when I was stopping by to help Alluka with a recipe - I almost lost my life trying to convince Killua that I wasn’t going to harm her - and he came home half-conscious. He’d been awake for weeks on end trying to earn money for their restaurant.”

“His restaurant, huh…” Leorio says. He stares up at the sky. “An assassin, becoming a chef and baker. It doesn’t get any weirder than that.”

“It was originally Alluka’s dream,” Kurapika says. “They’re both amazing chefs. That night, Alluka asked me to stay over to help her care for him. It was a tiring night; not because he was a fussy patient, but because he was always in pain. The Zoldycks were not kind to him.” He closes his eyes briefly. “Halfway through the night he woke up and asked for his sisters. When we were all there, Killua holding Alluka’s hands, he finally slept quietly. His fingers stopped turning into claws in his sleep. That was the second time my eyes turned red.” 

Leorio smiles gently. “They’re a good bunch, huh? I really want to meet Alluka and Nanika after this whole mess is over - the four of us.” 

Kurapika looks up from his hands. “The four of us?”

“You, me, Killua, Gon. We’re all friends at this point. We might as well get together under better circumstances, right?”

He breathes out. “Right,” Kurapika says softly. “The four of us with Alluka and Nanika - I’d like that very much.” He puts a hand over his right eye abruptly and turns away as if his head is hurting. “It’s getting late, Leorio, and my contacts are dry. We’ll talk when the sun is out, alright?” 

Kurapika had used eye droplets an hour ago. “I’ll take the first watch if you want and wait for Gon and Killua to return,” Leorio suggests.

A beat, and then Kurapika turns back to look at him, and there’s a soft smile on his lips. “Of course,” he says. “Thank you, Leorio.” 

Killua looks surprised that Leorio is still awake when he and Gon come back. “Kurapika went to sleep?” he asks quietly. “This early?”

Leorio rolls his eyes to the sky. He can feel his eyelids protesting against the action. “It’s probably almost three in the morning,” he says. “Some of us don’t run on never ending sugar highs.” 

Gon rolls off of the top of Killua’s head and takes an enthusiastic lap around Leorio’s legs. “Killua and I are gonna travel the world together,” he declares. “How cool is that?”

“You’re what,” Leorio says at the same time Killua stiffens with embarrassment and swats Gon halfway across the clearing. 

“Don’t say stuff like that out of nowhere!” Killua hisses. “That’s undecided!”

Gon looks forlorn. “I thought you agreed, though.”

“That’s still a stupid thing to announce - we don’t even know if it’s gonna work! Hell, we don’t even know if we can turn back into humans. Don’t get ahead of yourself, idiot.” 

“You guys sound like a married couple,” he says under his breath. 

Both of them snap to look at him. “Did you say something, Leorio?” Gon asks curiously. 

“Never mind,” Leorio sighs. “Are you two going to sleep soon or what? We have some distance to cover later, so it’s best to rest while you can.”

Killua and Gon exchange a look so swiftly Leorio barely catches it. There’s definitely a tone of mischief in that look, though, so Leorio just exhales heavily and braces himself for the rest of the night. 

“I can take watch, old man,” Killua says. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll wake Kurapika if I have to - he’s a light sleeper. And he doesn’t snore.” 

Leorio squints at him through his glasses, but Killua’s face betrays nothing. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll put some wood on for the fire. Just wake one of us if it’s about to go out.” 

Leorio’s about to protest when Gon suddenly pops up like he’s realized something and exclaims, “Killua, I just realized that I could be called Gon Froggss and you’d be Killunya because frog and cat, those could be our superhero names - “ and the two of them descend into chaos again. Their voices rise loud enough that Leorio can make out Kurapika shifting under the shelter, his legs half-illuminated by the fire. Leorio directs his gaze to the heavens again before making his way to Kurapika’s side.

“Move over,” he says tiredly. He pats at the ground carefully, running his fingers across the grass for any spiders. “I don’t want to deal with them anymore.”

Kurapika turns over to face him. “The feeling’s mutual,” he murmurs, his voice slurred with sleep and warmth. “Don’t let Killua wake me up. He says I’m a light sleeper, but that’s just because he likes to flick me awake.” 

The shelter they had made consisted of a canopy of leaves hung over a branch and grass padding the ground, but it had been constructed too small. Leorio rubs at his eyes and stares at his feet, which stuck a good distance out of the canopy. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anyways,” he says dryly. “I’m going to wake up half-soaked.”

Kurapika lifts his head slightly. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

Kurapika sits up and casts a glance around the small tent. “You’re way too tall for your own good.”

“You’re just short.” Leorio pats at the grass under them, futilely trying to spread it thinner. “It’s okay. I can deal with it.”

“You’ll catch a cold.” 

“I can travel with an itchy nose. I’ll be fine.” 

“No, it’s - “ Kurapika exhales loudly. “Just. Move closer.”

Leorio blinks. “To you?”

“Yes. How else are you going to fit?”

“That’s not - I can’t do that.”

Kurapika rubs at his forehead. “Listen, it’s already late enough. Either we sleep now and wake up only marginally exhausted, or we can wake up with a cold and entirely sleep-deprived. Make your choice.” 

Leorio hesitates. “It’s probably not going to be very comfortable.”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

After a beat Leorio shifts closer carefully until his back is pressed against Kurapika’s, angling the two of them diagonally under the canopy so Leorio’s legs can fit. 

“Is this okay?” Leorio says quietly. The clearing has fallen silent all of a sudden. Maybe Killua and Gon have gone to sleep. He’s not sure, and he doesn’t bother to check - there’s a sudden heat in Kurapika’s gaze and it renders the rest of the world immobile. 

He hears Kurapika exhale, and then: “This is fine.”

“Really?”

“ Yes, Leorio. It’s fine. Go to sleep now, will you?” 

“Hm.” It’s almost kind of funny how quickly his eyelids droop at that; Leorio had been steeling himself for a night of cold and wet, but now he feels warmth all the way up to his fingers, soaking through his back and into the ground. “Good night, sunshine.”

He can feel Kurapika shaking against his side and it takes him a moment to register it as laughter . “Good night, Leorio,” he says. The night has never felt warmer. 

Quietly, Killua high fives Gon.
“Finally,” he stage whispers, flopping to the ground in an inelegant heap. “I thought they’d take forever. I mean, they’re moving pretty fast relatively, but still.”

Gon shakes his head in amusement. “Whenever I tried to sleep next to him he’d push me away,” he says mournfully. “I guess we’ve been replaced.” 

“He’s smiled a lot with Leorio,” Killua observes.

“More than you’ve seen…?”

Killua shakes his head. “For someone he’s just met - it’s just surprising, I guess. It’s nice.” 

“He deserves it.”

“I guess,” Killua says reluctantly. 

“ Oh - “ 

“If you tell him I said that I’ll turn you into tomorrow’s breakfast.”

“You can try!” Gon says, puffing his chest out confidently. “You’d never catch me.”

“You’re too confident in yourself, Gon.” 

Gon waves his foot lazily. “No, I just trust that you won’t hurt me.”

“That’s a horrible mistake to make.”

“It’s not.” 

Killua stumbles in his step, hissing when he steps onto a stone. “What?”

“I said, it’s not,” Gon repeats. “It’s not a mistake.”

Huh. He’s not really sure how to respond to that. He tries for a laugh, but the sound stops itself in his throat, as if cowering away from the air. He settles for a scoff and turns his head away deliberately. “You say the weirdest things.” 

“What? But I mean it!”

“Sure,” Killua says. He curls up next to the fire. “Go to sleep. I bet you’re tired by now.”

Gon glares at him. “You’re just trying to change the subject.”

He’s not wrong but Killua will eat his foot before he agrees. “I can see you stumbling. Frogs shouldn’t even be able to stumble.” 

“I’m not - “ Gon yawns and then snaps his mouth shut sullenly. “What about you, though? Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“I will,” Killua lies. “Just go over there by Kurapika, okay? He doesn’t move around too much in his sleep. I’ll join you guys in a sec.” 

Gon looks like he’s about to protest before another yawn bursts out through his mouth. “Fine,” he mutters. “There’s a few extra sticks over there, I think Leorio put them there earlier. Just make sure you throw them in before you go to sleep.” He flops over to Kurapika’s side, tucking himself in the grass right over his head. “Good night, Killua!”

Killua just hums a quiet response and pulls himself towards the fire until the heat becomes almost unbearable, the flames licking at his back and seeping into the ground. His mind feels several paces behind his breathing. 

I trust that you won’t hurt me. It’s not a mistake. 

How long has it been since he heard that? Scratch that - when has he ever heard that? He racks his brain and comes up dry. Even Kurapika knew to be wary of his killing intent, drawing back immediately in their sparring when they both got too heated. 

“I was literally raised to kill people, Gon,” he whispers, testing the waters. He doesn’t get a response.

Falling asleep in the same space as a Zoldyck assassin, and that quickly, too… Killua rolls his eyes to the sky, the air above him distorted by smoke. I could rip his heart out before he could blink. 

He could. He knows he could. But he doesn’t move from his place by the fire at all, not even to check if Gon’s actually asleep. He just sits and breathes and waits, watching the outline of Kurapika and Leorio’s bodies rise and fall, the sway of the leaves in the trees. There’s a faint buzzing in the very back of his ears.

You’re going to kill him someday, just like you’re going to kill Kurapika, like Leorio, like all the people who had the misfortune to come across your path. You’re a murderer, Killua, and you don’t know how to be anything else. 

He moves even closer to the fire until he has to bite down a wince as it sears down his spine. He pulls away a little too late. After a long moment he gets to his feet and finds a spot at the very edge of the shelter Kurapika and Leorio had constructed, tucking himself into the corner of the grass padding and making himself as small as possible. He doesn’t sleep the entire night, his eyes wide and unblinking, occasionally unrolling himself from his position to drag a stick into the fire. 

When the other three wake up, none of them comment on the black burn mark across Killua’s back.