Chapter Text
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Killua
Silken streams of buttery sunlight peered, unfettered, through high-reaching windows. Dust particles reflected the light, turning amber and sparkling like a sea of stars. Killua couldn’t help but stare - taking in the striking sight - feeling his breath clog deep within his throat. He turned, searching for something that should be there.
The white-haired boy took one step forward, then another, then another. His head swiveled so that he could scan every inch of the space that surrounded him. The room was filled with old furniture, faded green and worn from use. A coffee table sat in the center of the room, water rings marking the various places people had left their drinks. It was homey… at least, what Killua believed homey meant for a normal person. Not that he’d had much experience with it himself.
It was breathtakingly beautiful. And Killua was scared.
There was something that wasn’t right. Something was missing. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Trying to chase the enigma of a feeling within the confines of his brain was futile. It was like… a needle wedged deep enough within him that he couldn’t dig it out.
A needle.
For some reason, the idea of a needle disturbed him - made him shudder and shake and want to curl up deep within himself. But that would be foolish. Good assassins didn’t curl up within themselves. So instead, he shifted his fingers into claws. Killua tuned every sense to his surroundings. Eyes sharpened and ears perked up as he moved silently through the room.
Everything was vaguely familiar, as if he’d experienced it in a long-ago dream. And yet, there was a vacuous space, a missing piece, a shadow that he couldn’t see. Killua’s heart thudded erratically in his chest as his frustration grew.
What was it? Something was supposed to be there!
Killua gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Slowly, he analyzed the contents of the room, committing them to memory. Good assassins had to be aware of their surroundings after all. They had to know what tools could be worked with and what nooks and crannies could be exploited. They couldn’t let something as stupid as being unobservant be their undoing. That had to be why the tugging sensation that something was missing needled its way through him, unnerving him, panicking him.
He stopped. Something caught his eye.
A bright green jacket was draped over the armrest of the couch farthest from him. The green was lined with a red, just as bright and just as flashy. The colors were effusive and vibrant, as if they were designed to adorn sunlight itself. At first glance, he knew that it was the type of thing he would never wear… and yet… and yet…
“Gon.” Killua breathed. A puzzle piece falling into place. A step in the right direction. While the name itself didn’t conjure a familiar picture in his head, it did generate a warm and fuzzy feeling in his core. A spark of relief coursed through his body - the same way it might’ve if he’d taken a correct step while playing Hot and Cold with his big brother, thus avoiding his typical punishment.
His claws receded as he reached. Maybe if he could touch the fabric, then-…
“Not quite what I was expecting from you, Kil. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Killua whipped around, his heart thundering in his chest. Illumi was standing in between two windows. His body was framed by sunlight that didn’t touch him. Inky black hair cascaded down his sides, which matched the inky black eyes that watched his younger brother. His expression was one that an outsider might categorize as disinterest. But Killua knew better. He always knew better when it came to Illumi.
“Ill-Illumi!” Killua stuttered. He internally cursed himself for his momentary slip up. Good assassins wouldn’t show weakness.
Illumi tilted his head and walked forward in the shadows, lithely and expertly avoiding every ray of saturated sunlight. Killua wanted to back away. He wanted to run. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to leave. Why couldn’t he fight? Why couldn’t he run? Why was he trapped on the border in between the two, shaking like a child?
The older Zoldyck looked around the room. He smirked, ever so slightly, before prancing lightly over to Killua. Long, spidery fingers grabbed hold of Killua’s chin, yanking his head upward so that their eyes met. Illumi’s breath ghosted over his face as he stared at him contemplatively. Killua shuddered and attempted to twist away. It was futile.
“Really, Kil. I’m just trying to help you. I do wish you’d stop struggling like a petulant child.”
“Where am I? What’ve you done with me?” On the surface, his voice was steadier, stronger. But for some reason, it didn’t make him feel any bigger when facing his towering brother.
“You’re the one who picked this place. I certainly wouldn’t have. It seems a bit, might I say… tame for you.”
“I… picked?” Killua’s head was spinning. He didn’t remember picking anything, though Illumi always did like speaking in riddles and circles. Blue eyes spun and settled briefly on the green jacket. Why was he so confused? Why wasn’t anything making sense? And who was Gon?
Gon… Gon… dying sunlight and dirt caked under nails. Wide smiles and sweat. Clean linens and bubbles - so many bubbles. Flashes of images that he couldn’t grasp flitted about the corners of his consciousness. He couldn’t catch them and he couldn’t hold them. Any time he tried, the image would fade quickly, elusive as any scared, wild animal.
Killua couldn’t make the images make sense, no matter how hard he tried. Those feelings were warm and fuzzy - in sharp contrast to the things he did remember, which were cold and painful. In that sense, they both were fascinating and frustrating. He didn’t think assassins were allowed to have nice things. So, then, why were these images bubbling up?
“You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Illumi sighed with a shrug. “You might as well just give in, Kil.”
“J-just shut up, will you?” Killua growled. He jerked backwards, breaking Illumi’s hold on him, and crashed down to the floor. The boy had to think. The sticky, slow cogs in his brain needed his full focus to start turning. But first, he had to get away from his brother. Killua’s tongue darted out to dampen his dry, cracked lips as he scanned the room. The jacket was to the right - and the only door was straight ahead - right behind Illumi himself. Maybe he could grab the jacket first, and then-…
“Oh? That old thing? Don’t bother, Kil. I’ll throw it out.” Illumi droned, snagging the green article before Killua could even blink. Panic blurred his vision and twisted his stomach.
“Wait! I think that… that belongs to someone important to me! Please! Illumi!”
Good assassins didn’t plead. Killua knew this. Pleading or begging or whining would surely lead to punishment. Maybe electricity. Maybe poison. Maybe whips. But for some reason, he just knew that the jacket, and consequently its owner, was more important than his own safety or well-being (even if he couldn’t remember why).
Illumi paused and looked at him. “Oh, sweet, sweet, Kil. You don’t have anyone important to you - not besides your family.” The older Zoldyck crouched down, until his nose was inches from Killua’s. The proximity was distinctly overwhelming - a predator narrowing in on his prey. Killua also couldn’t help but notice that he smelled tangy and metallic, like blood.
“That’s not true!” Killua snapped feverishly, pushing himself backwards. “There’s Gon!”
Illumi’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
“You killed him. Don’t you remember? You wondered if you could, so you did. This is what happens when you try to challenge your path, Kil.”
No… He’s lying. He has to be. That doesn’t feel right. There’s no way-…
“See, you’re not qualified to have friends. But I can make you into the worlds’ greatest assassin. You would be the most magnificent tool.”
“Shut up!” Killua roared. He slammed his fists against Illumi’s chest, knocking him off-balance for a fraction of a second. It was enough. Killua yanked the jacket free and bolted. It was clear that he’d never make it through the door, not with Illumi guarding it. So, instead, he ran straight towards the wall, crashing through it and sending rubble flying in every direction.
The impact didn’t even hurt - not really. Adrenaline coursing through him and his high pain tolerance prevented him from feeling more than a twinge.
Killua wasn't sure when he realized that he didn't want to be the worlds' best assassin, or even a good one anymore. But by the time he was racing away from his brother, it was abundantly clear. If Killua had hurt this enigmatic person, this effervescent light (whose jacket still carried lingering scents of sunshine, sweat, and nature), he would never, ever be able to forgive himself.
###
Killua skidded to a halt, twisting his head to peer around him in every direction. He’d spent several minutes looping through the strange hallways of this equally strange place, using Godspeed to race ahead faster, always faster. While he couldn’t remember where the power came from, it was ingrained in his muscle memory and lingered somewhere in his subconscious. He decided to trust those impulses, come hell or high water.
Illumi was nowhere in sight - not that that meant anything. Killua ducked around the corner, silently making his way to the closest door. All he had to do was shake off his brother long enough to formulate a plan, or at least, figure out what was going on.
He opened the door, slipping through with a practiced silence, finding himself in a vaguely familiar playground. Everything that Killua placed his eyes on looked like something he should remember, but didn’t: the blue slide, the sandbox, the beach balls, the toy dinosaurs. It was all tugging at the corners of his mind, threatening to drive him crazy.
Kneeling in front of the sandbox, Killua laid out the green jacket and flattened it carefully with his palms. The fabric was thick and sturdy, albeit somewhat scratchy. “Gon,” he whispered, forming the alien sounding name with his tongue.
The name was like catching a hint of a scent that he’d been familiar with as a child - or trying to remember an entire song when only a few seconds played on loop in his head. It was like trying to view his reflection in a fogged up looking glass and seeing nothing but nondescript colors and shapes peering back at him. It was a name that was designed to carry meaning, but could also just be mistaken for a sound. Killua was getting nowhere, and the frustration built up in him and threatened to pop as a bubble might.
“Godammit, Illumi!” Killua growled, tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know this means something, you son of a bitch!”
You have it easy, Killua… You’re perfectly calm. Since it means nothing to you.
Killua froze, suddenly becoming very cold.
It means nothing to you.
Nothing.
A hulking body. Familiar eyes in the face of a stranger. Sapphire blood dripping. A desecrated corpse. Please stop, Gon. You mean everything, but you’re going somewhere that I can’t follow, and I would’ve followed you to the very end - if you’d only asked me… no, if you’d only let me. I’m scared because you’re a collapsing supernova. The pillars are collapsing. I’m collapsing, without you, and I can’t help you anymore. Please, don’t do this, you’re the only thing… the only thing-…
Killua lurched backwards with a cry - panting, trembling, and sick. The agony burst through him, manifesting as an explosion of inescapable sensation that permeated through every layer of his being. Purely physical pain was easier. With enough practice, he’d learned how to detach, how to float inside of himself instead of feeling it. But this… this was inside of his internal structure, a place that he couldn’t run away from. Desperation tore through his body, an invisible monster with claws and fangs. A desperation that said, in no uncertain terms, that he would choose to die a thousand times over if it meant he could save this person just once.
“See, Kil? This is what happens when you let yourself think that you should care for another. Humans are fickle creatures. It’s so much easier when you stay detached and let someone else take control. Let me help you. If you do, you’ll never have to experience that pain again.” The words caressed his ear. Warm breath ghosted over his skin, igniting Killua’s fury.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Killua screamed as he whirled around, but there was no one there. It was almost as if the words had come from a phantom instead of his brother. Illumi had to be playing tricks on him again. Killua was so tired of tricks. So very tired, with his frayed nerves and the sudden, wholehearted grief that he didn’t know what to do with. Tears threatened to spill, so he pressed his palms hard against his eyes to stop them. “Just leave me alone!”
“I know how to make it stop hurting. Open your eyes, Kil. I promise that I’ll make it better if you just give in to me.”
Promise? That word triggered something akin to a memory - a shadowy figure of another person. This person was different from the first, but just as meaningful. Killua didn’t know who it was, but he knew that he cared about them a whole bunch. More than anything, even. It was another piece of the puzzle that was missing. Another target in that sick game of Hot and Cold. An unintentional offering that sparked a ray of hope.
His curiosity momentarily overtook his better judgement. Killua dropped his hands to his sides and cracked open his eyes, blurry and sore from the pressure he’d exerted on them with his palms. Illumi was crouched in front of him. The black soulless eyes met his gaze with a look that was almost affectionate, if that was even possible.
“See? I know you better than you know yourself. I always have.”
You’re wrong, Illumi. You’re wrong. You have to be wrong. Because if you could even imagine how much they mean to me, you wouldn’t-…
“All you have to do-” Illumi breathed. His voice was a quiet purr, but it didn’t matter. The silence around him amplified every word. “-is kill him.”
Illumi’s long, pale forefinger extended out, pointing to the edge of the playground past the bushes, where Killua hadn’t bothered to check upon entry. Sitting upon the bench, there was a man. A faded brown ivy cap sat atop his striking silver hair. His ankles were crossed and a book was splayed open in his lap. The man’s defenses were down and everything about him screamed ‘easy target’. He was completely lost within his book, blue eyes flitting back and forth, clearly oblivious to the outside world.
“I don’t want to kill people anymore. I don’t-“
“You’re so intent on making this harder for everyone. It would be easy to kill him and you know that. Every moment of your life - every punishment and every lesson - all of it has led you here. You were made for this.”
Illumi’s words were melodic as a lullaby. They were spoken like they were meant to be soothing, as if they’d been designed to fill him with a sense of comfort and ease. They didn’t. It would be easy to kill the man, sure. Probably one of the easiest things he’d ever done, in theory. But if he gave in, he knew that somehow, everything would shatter. It would break him irreparably, not to mention the other people who would be hurt by the ripple effects of his action. Killua wanted to stop breaking things.
“No, Illumi.” Killua said icily, looking away from the silver-haired man and pushing himself up onto his feet. Illumi stiffened, his dark eyes hardening almost imperceptibly.
“There are people out there I have to protect - people that I love.”
Even if he didn’t remember them fully, and all he had were flashes of feelings or thoughts that seeped through the block in his brain, he knew somehow. As his resolve grew, he knew that he was getting warmer and closer to his target.
More images flashed into his mind, untainted by grief. He observed them, even if he couldn’t make sense of them. Long dark hair, silken beneath his fingertips as he attempted, clumsily, to braid it. Peals of laughter reverberated around a dimly lit room. A pile of chocolate wrappers and a friendly scolding from someone who cared about him. Gentle lips pressed against his cheek. A light that warmed him from the inside out, thawing away the assassin, thawing away the broken shadow, thawing away the nothing - leaving him human, with a capacity for pain, yes, but a capacity for so much love that he didn’t know what to do with it.
“Alluka!” Killua gasped. “Where is Alluka?”
Illumi growled, cold and icy anger emanating from him in ripples. He was losing his composure, which had to mean that he was losing the fight. “The only way you’ll ever see him again is if you do what I say.”
“You’re a liar, Illumi!” Killua spat, growing bolder and bolder, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re losing your grip because you don’t have her. And you’re an idiot if you think you can actually get me.”
After a long moment, Illumi softened and sighed, perching himself on the seat of a swing. One green-clad knee daintily crossed over the other. His figure was framed in sheets of long, dark hair. Someone who didn’t know him might think he was delicate, but Killua knew he was dangerous, like a venomous snake waiting for a chance to strike.
“I don’t have Alluka, it’s true. I suppose I can’t hide that from you. However, it’s also true that the only way that you’ll get to leave and see your precious Alluka again is if you do what I say. I’m not a very patient man, I confess, but I am willing to wait as long as it takes for you to grow out of this little rebellious phase of yours.” Illumi dropped his chin into his hands, not once taking his unblinking eyes off his little brother.
“Then I’ll run! I’m faster than you, anyways.”
“It’s no use. It doesn’t matter how far you run, you can’t escape. In fact, go ahead. I’ll give you a head start, even.”
“What the hell? What are you talking about?” Killua seethed through gritted teeth, caught off-guard by the change in his brother’s demeanor. The upper-hand was slipping away as quickly as he’d obtained it. Had he really misjudged the situation so gravely?
Then, Illumi did something that completely unnerved him - he smiled.
“We’re inside your head, Kil. And we’ll stay here as long as it takes.”