Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deep within the Neo-Green Life Autonomous Region, a silent battle for humanity had begun. Nestled into the murky woods, hidden far away from any human civilization, the Queen of the Chimera Ants—being in the last weeks of her labor—breathed raggedly. ‘’I need more… Way more food to birth a healthy King!’’

Even though her body trembled in exhaustion, her voice still carried power, urgency, and resolve. A few simple candles flickered in her chamber deep within her nest, casting a shadowy glow on the lone figure crouching in front of her.

‘’My Queen, how can I assist?’’ the figure spoke, her voice feminine yet brimming with unwavering loyalty to the Queen.

‘’Neferpitou, first of the Royal Guard,’’ the Queen thought, being unable to speak. ‘’For a strong King who’s fit to rule the world, I require only special humans. Go and seek these humans for me so I can feed them to the King. He’ll be born really soon.’’

Neferpitou bowed her head further. ‘’It shall be done, my Queen.’’ She raised her head again, casting it out of the shadows and into the light. Catlike eyes, brimming with curiosity and feral intensity, looked at the unborn King moving inside the Queen’s belly. Instinctively, she knew her purpose in this world: to protect and serve the King, no matter the cost.

‘’I shall scout outside and capture more of these special humans.’’ Neferpitou stood up. Her cat ears twitched above her wavy white hair while her tail swayed like a pendulum as she processed all the new stimuli entering her mind. Having just been born, she knew she held incredible power. Power she would use to serve her future King.

''You will only bring me the most powerful prey. Ones worthy of helping the King’s power grow,’’ the Queen urged.

‘’Yes,’’ Neferpitou agreed, a mischievous smirk appearing on her humanlike features. ‘’Prey that not only will make the King the strongest being in this world, but also prey that will test how powerful I actually am.’’ Her tail swished, and she crouched down, quadriceps swelling and flexing. With a mighty leap, she propelled herself forward and vanished out of the Queen’s chamber in a blur of muscles and catlike elegance.

It only took her a few seconds to leap high above the nest—which acted like a gigantic mountain in the middle of the dark forest surrounding it. Gracefully, she landed her dainty feet on its summit. Neferpitou sat down and closed her eyes. ‘’This world… is so full of colors and noise,’’ she thought, humming to herself. Her mind whirled with the input of information it received. ‘’Special humans… Nen.’’

Neferpitou thought back on what Pokkle told her after she had probed his brain. ‘’Nyow I understand. With En, I should be able to scout the area.’’ She opened her eyes, which had turned into feral slits. Her mouth curled into a mischievous smirk that showed off her fangs while the moonlight lit up her wavy white hair. ‘’Let’s see if there’s anything nearby that suits the Queen’s needs!’’

A black and red aura seeped off of her body like embers on a flame. With a burst of energy, Neferpitou shot out her En; a blood red aura that spread around the area like a gigantic, all-consuming curtain. It curled and probed like a living amoeba, sensing everything in the Chimera Ant nest and the surrounding forest up to two kilometers away.

‘’Squadron leaders slacking off… Killing for fun… Some have lost their troops already… Is this the doing of some powerful Nen users?’’ she mused. ‘’There are also some humans with guns, but they hardly seem concerning…’’ Neferpitou canceled her En and sighed in frustration. ‘’There’s nothing of worth nearby.’’ She stretched her back on all fours and leaped down like a bullet shot from a gun, breaking the sound barrier and leaving a big plume of dusty smoke in her wake.

She landed with little regard for her surroundings, creating a small crater with a loud burst after impact. Small rocks and pebbles flew everywhere while Neferpitou set into a sprint. ‘’If I follow the path where some Chimera Ants have been slain, I should run into these powerful Nen users,’’ she reasoned. ‘’They’d be perfect food for the Queen.’’ For all the noise she had made before, she now moved through the canopy in complete silence. Instinctively, Neferpitou used her Zetsu, concealing her presence with near perfection as she disappeared deeper into the dark forest.

With intent, she hopped from tree to tree, clearing incredible distances in a matter of minutes. Every movement was quick and efficient as her senses continued to flare. ‘’They’re getting closer,’’ she thought. Looking up ahead, her powerful nose caught a scent she couldn’t recognize. ‘’This must be their Nen… It feels so controlled and powerful. This isn’t anything like I’ve seen before.’’

Senses as sharp as before and with growing excitement in her body, Neferpitou moved past a small clearing and stopped. A ring of beheaded Chimera Ants lay motionless on the ground. In the middle lay a crushed one, and another one with multiple deep gashes on its body. ‘’This happened recently… Are they headed to the Queen?’’ The faintest of smirks curled her lips upwards. ‘’That will make my work easier.’’

Neferpitou continued to stalk her prey from the treetops, all her senses heightened, sharp, and hungry. It didn’t take long until her eyes spotted her targets in the distance. ‘’Three humans,’’ she noted. Two boys, no older than twelve or thirteen, walked behind a man with long silver hair. Her irises turned into pinpricks when she focused on him. ‘’He’s the one. The other two are just accessories,’’ her mind whispered to her.

Neferpitou stalked closer until her sharp ears picked up bits and pieces of their ongoing conversation. The man with long silver hair spoke to the two boys with quiet authority and resolve. They seemed to listen with no fear and followed him loyally. ‘’He’s calm,’’ she thought, which was an unsettling realization. ‘’This guy can hurt me if I don’t keep my guard up.’’   

That thought alone made her grin. ‘’You’ll be the perfect food for the Queen.’’

The forest had been eerily quiet ever since Kite, Gon, and Killua had encountered and beaten a Chimera Ant ambush. Now, they steadily followed an Ant named Hagya—who resembled a big lion—back to the nest. ‘’Something isn’t right. Even now, my senses scream for us to back down,’’ Kite thought. He scanned the area, but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. ‘’My top priority should be to protect Gon and Killua… No, they’re capable enough to fend for themselves. Then why does every fiber in my being want me to stop and turn around?’’

Kite halted, which prompted Gon and Killua to look up at their mentor. ‘’Gon, Killua,’’ he said. ‘’We’re only a few kilometers away from the Chimera Ant Queen and her nest. The King should not be born yet, but there’s no telling what we will face once we’re inside.’’ He turned around to look the boys in their eyes, their resolve unwavering. ‘’Even now, my body tenses so tightly it threatens to suffocate me.’’

‘’We… We’ve been feeling the same thing,’’ Killua admitted, giving Gon a side glance.

‘’Ever since we defeated those Chimera Ants that tried to ambush us,’’ Gon added. ‘’We didn’t say anything, but one look into Killua’s eyes and I knew.’’

‘’Do you think it’s a trap?’’ Killua asked Kite. ‘’If they know we’re following them, there might not be a way out.’’

‘’I have thought about it. Gon, Killua… Let’s get a good scouting of the area surrounding the queen’s nest first. Only if we deem it safe enough shall we enter. If not, we will back off immediately,’’ Kite said.

Gon and Killua nodded their head. They knew better than to argue with Kite in such a serious situation.

‘’We won’t do anything rash. Right, Gon?’’

‘’Right!’’ Gon agreed with Killua. His instincts prickled his senses, making him stay wary of his surroundings. Sweat rolled from his brow down his cheek. ‘’The air… is getting heavier.’’ He looked at Killua, who confirmed his suspicions with a single glance back.

‘’We’re being watched,’’ Killua thought. His breathing became labored, and only when he looked down did he notice the shivering of his hands. ‘’I can’t sense anybody, yet their presence is so ominous that it makes it hard to breathe.’’ His movements felt sluggish, as if he were stuck in cement.

‘’Gon, Killua…’’ Kite said clearly. He didn’t need to say anything else. Both took on a defensive stance, gritting their teeth as they carefully watched their blind spots. ‘’This presence… A Royal Guard?’’ Kite clicked his tongue in annoyance. ‘’This could be very bad.’’

With a stretch of his arm, Kite conjured a magical clown’s face that appeared in the open palm of his hand. ‘’I got a slot machine in my mouth!’’ it said. ‘’It goes from one to nine. Each number summons a different weapon. This is my… Crazy Slots! Give me something good!’’ It hummed before landing on a random number. ‘’Nine!’’

‘’Huh, a good roll for once?’’ Kite thought, not knowing whether to feel a bit of relief or not. Kite’s Nen extended underneath the clown’s face and formed an elongated spear. He grabbed it loosely enough to have full mobility over its range and spun it around. ‘’She’s here,’’ he said, eliciting audible gasps of wariness out of Gon and Killua.

Gon wanted to ask who he meant, but couldn’t. His muscles refused to listen. Dread gripped him by the throat. This suffocating presence made him think of Hisoka… No, way worse than even him. ‘’I’m scared,’’ Gon thought. ‘’But I can’t back down now. Kite and Killua depend on me.’’ His breathing became so thick he couldn’t hear anything else. For a moment, he thought he’d pass out, until the treetops above them rustled.

In a blur, Neferpitou dropped from the trees in front of them, blocking their path. Dust spiraled around her feet. Her arms hung almost limply between her legs. She took on a semi-active, wide stance. Then, with poise, she lifted her head to make eye contact with her prey.

‘’Hello,’’ Pitou said. A teasing purr escaped her mouth. Relaxed playfulness radiated from her eyes, which had turned into feral slits. Watching Kite from afar had sparked her curiosity and fascination. He spoke to Gon and Killua—who she noticed were significantly weaker than he was—with utmost care and respect. Very gentle, yet serious when necessary.

She had no clue why he’d be so caring for humans far weaker than him, but it had fascinated her enough to watch him for longer until her instincts couldn’t keep her Zetsu up for any longer.

Killua reacted instantly. His Nen flared. Electricity danced through his fingers. Gon followed suit, his Hatsu emitting a powerful aura around him while his eyes locked on Neferpitou’s.

Yet when both Gon and Killua readied themselves for battle, Kite raised his hand. ‘’Run,’’ he said. ‘’Now.’’

‘’But—’’ Gon tried to argue.

‘’Run!’’ Kite yelled, ‘’get out of here, quickly!’’

Gon and Killua hesitated. They froze on the spot, unsure whether to flee and leave Kite all alone. Especially Gon stopped in his tracks. ‘’Run?’’ Gon thought. ‘’Kite, we can’t just abandon you like that.’’

‘’Gon! Let’s go!’’ Killua finally urged, grabbing Gon around his arm. His fear had gripped him around the throat.

‘’Killua—’’ Gon said. He slowly let himself be dragged away by Killua. He eyed Kite one last time, who focused on Neferpitou in front of him.

‘’Huh, he didn’t let them fight me. He sent them away,’’ Neferpitou thought, cocking her head. She bared her claws. ‘’Why?’’ she asked out loud. ‘’He could have used them to gauge my strength. I don’t understand.’’

‘’Because I know who you are,’’ Kite replied resolutely, pointing his spear at her, ‘’and I won’t let you get near them.’’

Neferpitou’s ears perked. ‘’He really is defending them. But they’re nowhere as strong as him.’’ Her confusion tipped over into unsated curiosity. ‘’This is the most interesting human being I’ve met so far.’’ She grinned and went low to the ground. ‘’I can’t wait to see what other surprises he has in store!’’ Aura focusing and muscles swelling, Neferpitou leaped at Kite like a deadly projectile. Her claws extended in front of her like a drill.

Kite’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t expected her to be this fast. ‘’Not quite the speed of the chairman’s prayer, but still almost unable to follow with the naked eye.’’ Kite’s body lagged behind his reaction time. Turning sideways to dodge proved futile, weren’t it for the weapon Crazy Slots had conjured.

Kite’s spear glowed in an otherworldly light, before intercepting Neferpitou’s slash in the fraction of a millisecond. Nen-conjured steel clashed with claws, creating red-hot sparks. For a second, it seemed like it stopped Neferpitou in her tracks, before her powerful momentum carried her behind Kite.

She stopped and turned around, eyes widening. ‘’What just happened? I was sure I was going to hit him. But then he perfectly blocked my attack out of nowhere. Can he teleport that spear?’’ Neferpitou got low to the ground again. ‘’Only one way to find out.’’ The blood vessels in her legs and claws rippled underneath her muscles with strength. Neferpitou gave Kite no time to react as she lunged again.

‘’I really can’t dodge her speed. But I don’t have to,’’ Kite thought. His spear reacted and deflected Neferpitou away, making her skid over the ground. Within a second, she lunged again, prompting Kite’s spear to block her next attack. Her razor-sharp claws tore small gashes in Kite’s spear, slightly damaging it.

‘’Nyow I understand. That spear reacts to attacks for him. So even if he’s slower than I am, he can block and deflect me.’’ Neferpitou grinned. ‘’This… This is what I wanted.’’ Her eyes lit up with glee. ‘’Your name… What is it?’’ Neferpitou asked, standing down for a moment.

Kite grunted, but didn’t say anything else.

‘’Refusing? That is fine. My name’s Pitou,’’ she introduced, bowing slightly. ‘’I am one of the Royal Guards of the King.’’

‘’I know,’’ Kite said.

A puzzled expression appeared on Neferpitou’s face. ‘’Why is he not attacking? I am leaving myself wide open. Could it be that he thinks it’s a trap? Or can that spear only be used defensively?’’ Her ears twitched before she looked behind Kite, where Gon and Killua had fled. ‘’No way… Is he… buying time? For them…?’’

Confusion appeared on her face, visible enough for Kite to grunt again. ‘’Did she figure something out? Or is she wondering about my actions? If she’s a Royal Guard, her only concern should be protecting the unborn King. So why does it feel she’s hesitating just in the slightest?’’

‘’If you’re still worried about your soldiers, I am not interested in them,’’ Neferpitou said, bringing one of her claws over her chest.

Kite sighed. ‘’Now it makes much more sense.’’ He didn’t break his defensive stance whatsoever. ‘’Pitou,’’ he said. ‘’Why would I believe anything you might say to me?’’

‘’Nya?’’ Neferpitou said, completely baffled. ‘’Even now,’’ she thought. ‘’Even though you know that I’m not lying.’’ She flexed her claws again and lunged. ‘’You choose to protect them over your wellbeing!?’’ Neferpitou brought her claws close to her chest in an X-pattern and slashed. As expected, Kite’s spear perfectly blocked the attack for him.

Neferpitou’s grin broadened.

Kite’s eyes widened slightly in alarm when Neferpitou whirled around and swung her tail at his face like a whip. ‘’She feinted her slash, knowing that my spear would block the attack.’’ Kite turned his upper body to dodge with the limited time he had. A powerful crackling sound boomed through the air when her tail connected with his left shoulder.

As if the world slowed down to a crawl, Neferpitou saw Kite’s shoulder fracture, dislocate, and then shatter by the impact of her tail. A moment of victory flashed in her eyes until a searing pain thundered through her arm. ‘’What…?’’ She hissed, and then looked down to see Kite’s spear cleanly puncturing her arm.

In the next moment, Kite thrust his arm forward, activating his Nen and propelling Neferpitou away as if a cannon shot her out. She gasped, more in surprise than anything, before she slammed through a tree. ‘’He can still counter!?’’ She regained her faculties, turned upright, and skidded to a halt on her feet and claws.

Time seemed to move normally for Neferpitou again. The tree she slammed through fell with a thunderous boom, sending dust flying everywhere. Instinctively, she wiped away the trickle of blood that seeped from her upper lip. ‘’My first ever injury…’’ she thought, looking at Kite as he slowly advanced on her.

A surge of excitement shot through her body, followed by utter confusion. ‘’I should be angry that he managed to land a hit. But all I’m feeling is admiration.’’ She tilted her head. ‘’I don’t understand. All his moves have been defensive. He’s just stalling and trying to make sure there’s as much distance between me and those other two humans.’’ A low growl escaped her mouth.

‘’Why?’’ she asked again. ‘’Why are you holding back?’’

This time, Kite stopped. ‘’She’s genuinely confused. Should I tell her?’’ He lowered his head, sighed, and then spoke softly. ‘’I’m not holding back. I am doing exactly what I need to do.’’

Neferpitou’s confusion only grew. She pointed a claw at his injury. ‘’But you’ll die if you keep this up. Your left arm is completely useless.’’

‘’I know.’’

The utter peace and calmness oozing from those words made Neferpitou freeze. ‘’He knows? If he knows he’ll die, why fight at all?’’ She groaned. ‘’I don’t understand. Why are you not saving yourself?’’

Kite clicked his tongue in annoyance, and for the first time, relaxed just a tad. ‘’Pitou,’’ he said. ‘’You’re strong. Way stronger than I am. But you fight like someone who has never lost anything before. One day, that will make you weak.’’

For a single instant, Neferpitou’s eyes fell, reflecting something she had never experienced before.

Fear.

Kite’s words echoed through her mind. She crouched down to lunge at Kite again, yet her eyes had lost their hunger. Her mouth wasn’t curled in a smirk anymore. Only confusion and a weird sense of fascination remained. ‘’What does he mean?’’ she thought. Her strikes continued to be blocked until a mighty slash backed by her immense strength cleanly broke Kite's spear in half.

The Nen weapon disappeared in a shower of sparkles. Without missing a beat, Neferpitou pounced. A sickening slash ran through the area as her claws went through muscles, ligaments, cartilage, and bone. Neferpitou landed on all fours and watched Kite cough up blood. He went down on one knee, barely able to keep standing. Yet his eyes never stopped watching her.

‘’He should run. Or beg. Or break. Why doesn’t he?’’ Pitou’s ears twitched. ‘’Those two boys are far out of my reach. Even if I chase them now, I’d be hard pressed to catch up to them.’’

As if Kite knew what she thought, he growled. ‘’Don’t you dare try to follow them, Pitou!’’

Pitou blinked. ‘’Even now… He protects them?’’ She slowly stood up and sauntered over to him. ‘’Why?’’ she asked out loud, more to herself than to him. ‘’Why do you care what happens to them? You’re about to die.’’

Kite spat out some blood and smiled, teeth gnawing through the pain he experienced. ‘’Because they matter more than I do.’’

That answer should have amused her. It reflected humanity’s weakness, after all.

But it didn’t amuse Neferpitou.

Instead, it landed somewhere deep inside, like a heavy rock tumbling down a ravine, making her stop dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened, and she blinked again. ‘’Even more… than himself?’’ she thought. A long moment stretched between them, only interrupted by the wind blowing through the branches of the many trees in the vicinity.

Then, Kite stood up again, albeit weakly. He barely found the strength to make his Crazy Slots spin once more. With a faint hum, it landed on the number three slot—a weapon she hadn’t seen before. A staff materialized in Kite’s still functioning arm.

Neferpitou didn’t attempt to defend herself when Kite swung. She didn’t need to. The staff harmlessly hit her left arm, glowing faintly around Kite’s body, but otherwise doing no damage to her whatsoever. She watched him in utter confusion, trying to find the words to respond to what he’d just told her. ‘’You’re going to die,’’ she whispered instead. ‘’You know that.’’

A chuckle escaped Kite’s mouth. It sounded bitter, yet not a hint of fear behind it. ‘’Then make it quick,’’ he said.

For the first time, Neferpitou hesitated.

One second.

Then another.

Then she moved. In one lightning-fast blitz, she was behind Kite. Her left claw—bathed in a deep crimson—had effortlessly sliced through his chest. A dying gasp escaped Kite’s mouth. But regret, not fear, filled it. As Kite’s body fell to the ground, she looked back at him with emotions she couldn’t identify. ‘’That… wasn’t fun,’’ her mind reasoned. ‘’But it should, shouldn’t it?’’

She crouched beside him as the light in his eyes faded, still unwavering. Neferpitou could only see peace in them.

‘’Then why does it feel like I lost this battle?’’

Chapter Text

Deep within the queen’s nest, in a lone chamber dimly lit by orange torchlight, Neferpitou stood, confusion clear on her features. The air felt cool, thick with the scent of earth and moss. In the center of the room, on a crude flat surface, lay Kite’s deceased body.

She watched him silently, almost as if she tried to study him. ‘’I don’t understand,’’ she thought. Neferpitou tilted her head, catlike eyes narrowing while her tail flicked from side to side. ‘’Even when I destroyed his arm, he didn’t hesitate to keep defending those two boys. Weaker beings than himself.’’

She circled the table, eyes never leaving the expression that remained on Kite’s face. An expression she couldn’t quite comprehend. He seemed at peace with himself, something that felt entirely unfamiliar to her. ‘’Why did he look at me like he felt pity for me before I killed him?’’

Neferpitou leaned forward, claws resting on his chest. Not to harm him, but to sense… something, anything! For a long moment, there was silence until Neferpitou frowned. ‘’This shouldn’t bother me. He came here to kill the Queen. I did what I was supposed to do!’’ She huffed and blew a few strands of her wavy white hair out of her eyes. ‘’Then why do I feel myself unable to feed him to the Queen?’’

Neferpitou paced back and forth in the small chamber. Her aura flickered. ‘’I am sure I sensed the strength in his resolve. But why? He threw away his life for nothing! Yet… there was something else… but what?’’ With her mind made up, Neferpitou studied Kite. She focused all her attention on trying to find answers to her lingering confusion. 

Flicking her claws, she created a steady flow of Nen, which she pressed in calculated pulses on Kite’s body. Lingering residue of his Nen lit up like twinkling stars in an endless ocean. ‘’It’s so bright, even in death.’’ Pitou marveled at it in silent contemplation. She sat down next to Kite, crossed her legs, and stared.

‘’Why did I hesitate to kill him when he stood his ground?’’ Neferpitou continued to stare, watching in intrigue how Kite’s residue Nen flickered out like fading embers. She thought back to what he said to her before his death. ‘’You fight like someone who has never lost something before. One day, that will make you weak.’’ Her tail stopped moving.

‘’He didn’t see me as a Chimera Ant. He saw me… as something else.’’ Neferpitou blinked as that realization set in. ‘’I need to know more.’’ She stood up again and circled him until a faint rustling brought her out of her concentration. Her ears twitched, and she turned her head.

As gentle as a breeze, Shaiapouf emerged from the shadows. He stepped into the torchlight with elegance. His butterfly wings—translucent and folded—glistened in the dim light. He paused when he saw Kite’s body. Then he eyed Neferpitou.

‘’…You are still here?’’ Shaiapouf’s voice bounced off the walls. Light, musical, and pleasant, yet lacking any warmth.

Neferpitou didn’t flinch. She blinked at him. ‘’I was… studying him,’’ she said.

Shaiapouf walked forward with delicate grace, hands clasped behind his back. His expression remained composed, but his eyes lingered on the faint Nen aura still clinging to Kite’s deceased body.

“This one,” he said. ‘’He planned to kill the Queen and unborn King, yes?’’

Pitou nodded her head.

“You dispatched him. Efficiently, might I add.” Shaiapouf gauged Neferpitou’s reaction, who opted to stay silent. He paused before raising a brow. “You seem unsure.”

Neferpitou’s tail flicked, then went still. “I want to understand something,” she replied.

Pouf smiled, but tension lingered behind it, like a bowstring held just short of snapping. “Our purpose is to serve the King. To protect him. To prepare the world for his reign.” He stepped beside the table, eyes drifting to the careful preservation of Kite’s body. “Curiosity can be… useful. But it must never become sentiment, dear Pitou.”

Pitou looked up at him for the first time. Her gaze was unreadable. “Did you feel it?” she asked. “The moment he looked at me like I was lost, yet without any hate, even when I was about to kill him?”

Pouf tilted his head ever so slightly. “I did not fight him.”

She turned back to Kite. “Then you wouldn’t understand.”

A moment between them passed, heavy and quiet. Then, Pouf exhaled. “Pitou, the King will need us soon. This project of yours must end.”

Pitou nodded her head, brushing her claws across Kite’s chest in a futile attempt to get more answers. “You are right, Pouf. I’m done.” Yet, she couldn’t turn away immediately. ‘’You fight like someone who has never lost something before. One day, that will make you weak.’’ She gazed at Kite a moment longer before walking past Pouf and out of the chamber, expression unreadable.

Behind her, Pouf stayed behind, staring after her. Silence returned to the chamber like a fog rolling in—thick and smothering now that Pitou had left. Pouf remained still. The flutter of his wings stopped. Even the flames of the torchlights seemed reluctant to move. His eyes stayed on the door through which Pitou exited, but his thoughts remained inside the room.

“I have always found her… interesting.” He stepped around the make-shift table holding Kite’s body and clasped his hands together in solemn thought. “Devoted, yes. Dangerous, undeniably. But…” His eyes settled on the faint claw-marks near Kite’s chest—not inflicted to wound or out of violence.

Just… to touch him.

“She studies. As if seeking… meaning.” His lips parted, the beginnings of a frown appearing on his features as he circled the table that held Kite’s body. “I don’t question her loyalty. But there is something else… Something more she seeks to understand.”

“She took meticulous care to preserve his body as best as she could.” Pouf brushed a finger against the edge of the table, then drew it back. No Nen remained, no pulse of a heartbeat either. Yet Kite’s body radiated… warmth. Pouf moved to the far wall, standing with his hands behind his back, eyes half-lidded. “Devotion to the King is not a matter of will. It is instinct. Design. Truth. And yet—” He stopped himself.

That phrase. “And yet.” The phrase disgusted Pouf. “—and yet, I watched her take care of a lowly human corpse as if… As if it were precious to her.” He exhaled, almost resounding with a sigh. ‘’No, not precious. It was necessary for her.’’ He leaned to the side, letting his cheek rest against the cool stone wall.

“Some things can be necessary for a person without said thing being understood. Perhaps this is her process in understanding said thing, making her devotion to the king even stronger.’’ Pouf closed his eyes. “But I must watch her.” His wings unfurled, catching the dim lighting in the room and scattering it in kaleidoscopic patterns across the walls.

“A thread has moved wrong. Only slightly. But I am a creature of harmony,” Pouf thought. His eyes reflected the sparkle he scattered across the room. “Even one wrong note—” He paused, looking at Kite’s body with indifference, “—can become dissonance.” He turned, wings furling into his back like a cape as he walked away. “If Pitou has changed her rhythm, I must know the tune.”

Behind him, the torchlight flickered as if in silent agreement.

Pitou’s steps echoed through the various tunnels, mind blank. She brushed one of her claws through her hair, casting an irregular shadow against the wall. Her sharp claws reflected a dull scarlet that started to dry into brown. She blinked. ‘’His blood is still on my claws. How did I not notice?’’ The sight didn’t disturb her, but she stared at it longer than she should have.

Eyes wide, she disappeared deeper into the tunnels and downward into the inner hive. Pitou entered a hollowed-out chamber, stone walls slick and moist with water. In the middle stood a basin where a trickle of fresh water from a crack on the ceiling dripped into. Steady and slow, the small droplets hit the water, faintly echoing off the walls as Pitou kneeled beside the basin.

She lowered her hands in the icy water below, the sting of the cold barely registering in her brain, and Kite’s blood faintly dispersed. With methodical precision, she washed her claws. They passed over each other in an almost monotonous motion. Ripples in the water blurred her reflection, staring back at her. The last of Kite’s blood disappeared from her claws, clouding the water in a dull red.

Still, Pitou continued to scrub—claw over claw. Not a single droplet of blood remained. She watched the pale skin underneath her claws in silent contemplation. They were clean—spotless, even.

Yet, her scrubbing movements didn’t cease.

‘’The fight is over. He’s dead. There’s no reason to think of it again,’’ Pitou tried to reassure herself. ‘’And yet…’’ Her hands stilled; the ripples in the water dissipated. She saw her reflection now above her claws. Pitou stayed silent and just stared, trying to find answers to questions she did not understand. A single droplet from the ceiling broke the stillness when it landed in the basin, blurring her reflection once more.

Then she moved her claws out of the water, which had turned pale white from the cold. Residue water dripped off of them as she flexed her claws experimentally. ‘’You fight like someone who has never lost something before. One day, that will make you weak.’’ She lowered her head and closed her eyes. ‘’Why are those words he told me bothering me so much?’’

Neferpitou opened her eyes and stared at her reflection within the basin again. A soft gasp escaped her mouth when her Nen ability, Doctor Blythe, stared back at her. She whipped her head around and looked at her tail, which glowed in a dark red hue. ‘’When did I—?’’ she thought, questioning herself. ‘’I’m not injured, so why would I even—?’’ She looked back at her claws. They still felt dirty to her.

A silence fell. Pitou stood up and canceled her Nen. She walked out of the chamber, her next destination flashing before her. ‘’I need to understand,’’ she thought. With a growing pace, she made her way through different corridors. This part of the hive almost felt deserted, only the hush of Pitou’s footsteps broke the silence. She did not know why she had returned here exactly, but somehow, it felt right.

Before Pitou, the old training hall stretched out, crudely carved out of the earth. This place had seen a lot of activity before she was born. After figuring out Nen, most Squadron Leaders and Elite Soldiers trained elsewhere, with significantly more space. They abandoned this training hall in the process. Pitou gently touched one wall with her claws and walked forward.

Her claws slid over the rough exterior of the wall, creating a faint scratching sound. Pitou stopped and then turned her attention to the middle of the training hall. Her ears twitched as images rushed through her mind. ‘’I can see it clearly,’’ she thought, before stepping into the center. Her tail flicked, then settled. A pause, before Pitou shifted her stance.

One foot slid back while her claws angled forward. Her stance widened, but not like she would typically do. It felt awkward to her, more upright and deliberate. Images continued to flash in Pitou’s mind. ‘’Step. Pivot. Guard up.’’ Her arms moved in an unfamiliar rhythm, void of her usual low-slung readiness. This felt completely alien to Pitou. More balanced and resisting overcommitment. The same motions Kite had used against her in their fight.

Images continued to flash in Neferpitou’s mind. ‘’Turn. Brace. Strike—hold.’’ She didn’t add her claws to the defensive movements, just the motions. Pitou’s breath slowed, and her eyes were fixated on the wall, yet her gaze betrayed that her mind was somewhere else entirely. Some parts of her remembered Kite’s timing, his weight distribution, how he had pivoted not to press on the advantage, but to counter later.

Pitou’s arm slowed, then she continued. ‘’Pause. Step back. Wait.’’ She felt strange going through Kite’s movements. Even though her confusion lingered, it felt necessary in a sense. As her motions ended, she stopped. Pitou’s claws flexed as solemnity took her hostage. ‘’He fought for those boys,’’ she thought. The way he appeared to hold back, she couldn’t copy. Her muscles simply refused. ‘’That’s weakness,’’ her mind whispered to her.

Pitou looked up at the ceiling. ‘’If it’s weakness, then why do I want to understand?’’ Even though she didn’t find the answers she looked for, Pitou felt… accomplished. She stared at her claws once more. They didn’t feel as dirty as before. A very faint smile appeared on her face. ‘’Maybe… Just maybe…’’ Pitou glanced around the training hall one last time before exiting through the corridor from where she had entered.

The sky above NGL, blurred in pretty oranges, almost reflected a painter’s canvas. Dusk approached, and heat lingered like a thick blanket, clinging inside the corridors of the Queen’s nest and the surrounding forest. Pouf stood on a ridge above, wings folded close to his back. From here, he could see the forest canopy rolling outward like a great breath.

“You’re watching her again,” Youpi said, approaching from behind.

Pouf didn’t look back. “Merely observing patterns.”

“She wanders. So what?” Youpi rumbled, not unkind, but impatient. “She returns. She doesn’t question orders. She’s still Pitou.”

“Yes,” Pouf said slowly. “But even instruments can fall out of tune.”

Youpi snorted. “You think too much.”

The larger Royal Guard dropped to sit on a boulder, arms crossed. The stone groaned beneath his weight. Pouf remained standing, eyes still following the figure slipping into the lower tunnels once again.

“She’s gone there every day,” he said. “Always alone. Always quiet. She returns… gentler.”

“Maybe she likes to be alone,” Youpi offered.

“Perhaps.”

But Pouf didn’t believe that. No, he knew something else had stirred. With a flutter of his wings, he flew down and disappeared after Pitou into the tunnels.

Inside the old training hall, Pitou moved ritually. She had done this for almost a week now. Every day, the poses felt increasingly natural to her. With a deep breath, she retook her stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, shoulders relaxed but alert. ‘’Step. Wait. Thrust.’’ Every time she did it, a strange flicker passed through her chest. A pleasant pressure akin to satisfaction, but no answers came.

Just that feeling. Again and again. She breathed once more, turned—and froze. Pouf stood in the entrance’s mouth, arms gracefully folded, head tilted. He offered her a smile, as if he had just arrived by accident. ‘’My apologies. I didn’t mean to intrude.’’

Pitou blinked. Surprised, but not alarmed by his presence. ‘’I didn’t hear you.’’

Pouf stepped inside, letting his eyes sweep the space. He looked at the faint prints on the ground she had left behind and the stillness in her eyes, expression unreadable. “You’ve come here often,” he said.

Pitou hesitated. “Yes.” Silence again. Then she added, more uncertainly, “It helps.”

Pouf’s brow lifted, soft and curious. “Helps with what?”

She looked down at her claws. “I don’t know,” she said. The honesty of it surprised even her.

Pouf stepped closer, still giving her plenty of space. “I remember how you stood by that human’s body,” he said, voice like silk laid over stone. “You seemed… curious. Analytical. But not without emotions.”

Pitou’s ears flicked, unsure of what to make of Pouf’s observations. “It wasn’t like the others,” she murmured. “He wasn’t like the others.”

Pouf tilted his head, expression unreadable. “In what way?”

She was silent for a long time. “I don’t know,” she said again. “He fought even when it didn’t matter, when it was over. Protecting those two other humans, even though they were long gone.”

Pouf’s eyes narrowed, but his smile didn’t fade. “And you’re trying to understand that.”

She nodded slowly. “I try to feel it. The moment he stood like this,” she said, raising her arm again, mimicking Kite’s form. “I can’t explain it. But when I do it, I feel—” She stopped herself and looked down. “—less wrong,” she finished.

Pouf was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “You’ve always been precise, Pitou. Everything you do serves a purpose. But some things… defy meaning.”

She glanced at him, unsure what he meant.

He let a small breath out through his nose. “Just don’t get lost in something you were only meant to end.’’ His words were soft, but they cut in their own way.

Pitou said nothing.

Pouf watched her for another moment, then gave a graceful bow of the head. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, and turned. As his footsteps faded, Pitou remained still. She watched Pouf disappear, then looked down.

‘’He’s right. I should stop doing this,’’ her mind said. She paused. Then she resumed her stance. ‘’Block. Move. Strike.’’

A few days later, in a small alcove lit only by a slit of dying sunlight, Pouf stood with his hands folded behind his back.

Youpi waited, arms crossed.

“She’s still doing it,” Pouf said softly.

Youpi didn’t need to ask who he meant.

Pouf continued, “Not mindlessly. Deliberately. With attention. She’s refining something… but it isn’t instinct.”

Youpi grunted. “What does it matter? She’s loyal. She’s stronger than ever. If she’s sparring ghosts to stay sharp, so what?”

Pouf smiled faintly. He always smiled. But this one didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not the repetition that concerns me. It’s the question beneath it.”

Youpi gave a dismissive snort. “She’s not questioning the Queen or unborn King.”

“No,” Pouf said. He moved to the edge of the alcove, gazing down into the nest. “She said something odd a few days ago when I approached her. That standing like that human made her feel ‘less wrong.' ”

Youpi’s brow furrowed. “What does that even mean?”

Pouf didn’t answer directly. ‘’It was the way she said it,’’ he thought. ‘’Not ashamed. Almost… accomplished, yet with a lot of lingering confusion. She doesn’t know what to think about it either. That’s the danger.’’ Aloud, Pouf answered, “She’s mimicking not that man’s strength… but his defiance. His posture. The moment he accepted death.”

Youpi shrugged. “And?”

Pouf turned to him, eyes still calm. “It’s not our place to emulate humans.”

Youpi tilted his head. “She isn’t turning soft, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“No. But she is curious.” Pouf’s voice dropped slightly. “Curiosity without shape becomes desire. And desire without form becomes rot.”

Youpi grumbled but said nothing.

‘’Still… She returns to that chamber as if it contains an answer. That is not behavior taught by instinct. It’s something else. Something beginning to stir, as I expected. Too early for confrontation. But not too early to prepare.’’ Pouf smoothed the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ll keep watching.”

Youpi gave a brief nod. “Tell me when I need to care.”

Pouf smiled again. “I always do.” As Youpi turned and left, Pouf allowed his smile to fade. His wings twitched behind him. ‘’There’s something echoing in her now. If it grows, it must be shaped. Or stopped.’’

Chapter Text

The light inside the throne room of the palace in East Gorteau had a hollow quality. It bled through the top windows in long shafts, brushing across the cold tiles at the throne’s foot, but never quite touching the figure who sat atop it. The King of the Chimera Ants, Meruem—although he did not know his name yet—lounged back on his throne. His arms rested along the throne’s frame while his tail coiled lazily beside him. Deep red eyes exuded control so naturally that it seemed to warp the surrounding air.

Across from him, another human challenger sat trembling at the edge of a lacquered board, white stones in one bowl, black in another. The man had been a university professor and the regional champion of East Gorteau in checkers until Chimera Ant soldiers had swept him away and carried him to the palace to face the Supreme Leader.

“You’re the regional champion, aren’t you?” Meruem asked, his voice dry and flat, but edged with expectation. “You’ve won the last ten regional championships and even claimed no one could ever beat you.”

The man gulped audibly. “Well—maybe?” He stopped himself when Meruem’s eyes flashed dangerously.

‘’Maybe? Or you have?’’

“I-I have.”

Meruem nodded once, very slowly, as if he carried a great deal of patience for the man in front of him. “Good. Then begin.”

The man reached forward with a shaking hand and placed his first stone on the board. A safe move. Cowardly. Immediately predictable. Meruem’s eyes narrowed as he put his counter in a swift, sure motion and leaned forward, as if daring the man to try again.

Pitou watched it all from her place behind the throne. She stood poised, exactly three paces behind the King, neither more nor less. Her arms folded behind her back while her expression remained composed. On the outside, she gave no impression of thought at all, merely quiet readiness—a pristine picture of the Royal Guard she wanted to be.

But inside, her thoughts tangled in strange knots.

She had told herself that clarity would come with the King’s birth, that once he existed, once his presence filled the world, all conflict within her would resolve itself. Those strange fissures that had opened inside her chest during those last days by the Queen’s side would seal over, and she would become whole again.

And yet, as she stood here, spine perfectly aligned, gaze forward and expression frozen, all she could think about was how Kite's blood had dried beneath her claws that day. How it had taken so long to wash out, and how even after scrubbing and rinsing until the pads of her fingers ached, she could still feel the shape of that weight. Kite had not begged. He had not cursed her. He had only fought and died. And his silence had followed her like a soundless breath ever since.

She could still remember how he moved. The way he had shifted his stance when she attacked, the slight tension in his shoulders as he anticipated her strikes. The fluidity of it all. His will had not cracked even when his body faltered. She had killed many humans, but none had left such an impression on her mind. She did not know why. And that—the not knowing—was what burrowed deepest.

Her claws twitched against her arms.

The man sitting across from Meruem made his second move, this time with slightly more confidence. It was still a poor play under the pressure he faced. Meruem’s counter was decisive. “You disappoint me,” Meruem murmured, his voice faintly bored. “There’s nothing here I haven’t seen already.”

The man looked up, confused, then terrified. “I—please, I’m trying—”

“You’ve had your two moves,” Meruem interrupted. “They were dull. Now I’m bored.”

His tail struck quickly and powerfully. The man crumpled forward with a sharp, wet snap as his neck broke. Blood spilled across the edge of the board. Youpi, already standing at attention, crossed the room with deliberate steps and dragged the body away, expression unreadable.

The room fell silent again.

Meruem sat with his head propped in one hand, his elbow resting against the throne’s side. His fingers tapped against his temple. After a while, he spoke again.

“They’re all the same,” he said, tone monotonous. “They stumble over moves. They panic. They think small.”

Pouf, ever eager to smooth the King’s frustrations, stepped forward with a graceful bow. “We will find better players for you, Your Majesty. It may take time, but I believe this nation has some very sharp minds.”

Meruem said nothing to him directly. Instead, his tail coiled slightly in agitation as he turned toward the window, as if the mist hanging over Peijing held something worth seeing.

He spoke again, this time addressing Pitou. “Pitou, do you think these humans are useful in some sense?”

Pitou drew in a breath, just enough to speak evenly. “Only as far as they serve you and your rule, my King. Be it food or otherwise.”

“They die easily,” he said, voice still thoughtful. “Their bodies are weak. Their minds are cluttered. But some resist. They make strange choices, like self-sacrifice and defiance.” He paused, gaze unfocused. “There was one who refused to kneel, even when it was clear to him who I was. He said I would never understand humans.”

Meruem’s voice stayed muted and thoughtful, as if he were thinking aloud rather than expecting a reply. “I killed him quickly, but I’ve thought about that moment more than I expected to.” He turned his head, not fully facing Pitou, just enough to show his attention hadn’t drifted.

“Do you understand them, Pitou?”

She hesitated. “I do not need to,” she said at last. “I only need to remove those who might oppose you.”

‘’That’s not what I asked.’’ The King looked unamused. ‘’I will not repeat myself.’’

She paused, then answered again, this time slower. “If you demand me to understand them, I will, my King. But no, I do not.’’

Meruem tilted his head. ‘’I see.’’ He said nothing more to her. Instead, he leaned forward again and gestured for Pouf. “Bring in another. I know there’s still another board game I have yet to play called Gungi. I want to face the reigning champion.’’ Pouf bowed deeply and exited.

Pitou remained still, her muscles locked perfectly in place. And yet her thoughts churned. The king embodied everything she lived for—a perfect being, a sovereign of nature itself. Her entire body—every cell, every instinct, every shred of purpose—existed to protect and obey him.

But there was a hole at the center of that certainty. And, within that hole, the ghost of a dead man walked every night. Kite had not been perfect. He had been fragile and mortal. And yet in those last seconds, when he had fought without hope, something in his stillness had matched the King’s. Not in power, but in clarity.

Why couldn’t she stop remembering that?

Why did his form linger behind her eyes, like a shadow too long cast?

Pitou looked down at her claws. They were clean, as they had been for days now. But still, she remembered the sound they made when they tore through his flesh and bone. She remembered the motion of his spear, the way he stepped between attacks, even the tension in his jaw when he exhaled. And she remembered mimicking him afterward. Again and again, alone in the abandoned training hall, practicing a stance not her own. There had been something grounding in it. Something correct.

But now, it boiled over like a fever that took her in a bind she couldn’t get out of.

Her inner lamentations died away with the opening of the grand doors and the small human figure approaching the King. Her movements felt clunky, accompanied only by the rhythmic tapping of her cane.

‘’Your Majesty, I present you, Komugi,’’ Pouf declared with a respectful bow of his head.

Once she was in front of the King, she bowed deeply. ‘’I’m so sorry for interrupting you, Supreme Leader. You summoned me?’’

‘’I heard you’re the reigning champion in Gungi,’’ the King replied, still reading through the rulebook.

‘’Oh—yes!’’ She kept pressing her head to the floor.

‘’You’ll have to wait until I’ve read all the rules. Afterward, we’ll be playing.’’

‘’You want to play me, Supreme Leader?’’ she asked.

‘’Silence now. Do not say another word,’’ Meruem replied flatly. His tail coiled in slight annoyance.

Komugi closed her lips and waited patiently for the King to read through the rest of the rules. Once he had done so, he set up the board. ‘’I understand now,’’ he said. ‘’Let’s begin.’’

‘’That’s checkmate,’’ he said to Komugi when her Archer trapped his Spy. His expression remained unreadable, yet his voice had grown considerably softer the more time he spent with her. He played against Komugi until exhaustion took her. She bowed her head when she’d won another game.

‘’You should rest,’’ Meruem said.

‘’Oh—don’t worry about me, Supreme Leader! I can play Gungi three days in a row without any sleep!’’ Komugi said. Heavy bags underlined her pale eyes, which she only opened when playing.

‘’I will not repeat myself,’’ the King responded, walking out of the throne room. ‘’Get some rest and be prepared for tomorrow. We’ll start playing the moment you wake up again.’’

‘’Yes—yes, Supreme Leader!’’ Komugi said.

‘’Pitou,’’ the King said, stopping and turning slightly toward her.

‘’Yes, Your Majesty?’’ she asked, bowing deeply.

‘’Take Komugi back to her chambers.’’ He paused, then added, ‘’and make sure she’s well rested.’’

‘’It will be done,’’ she said, not betraying anything from the outside. Yet, from the inside, the King’s last remark left a visible imprint. The strange sensation that pulled on her chest whenever she mimicked Kite’s defensive stance returned, and as quickly as it had appeared, it left her again. ‘’Why…?’’ she thought, guiding Komugi back to her chambers. For a fleeting second, the King’s voice had been… gentle. Pitou had noticed the subtle shift and change in the King’s personality, and it made her shiver.

‘’The King… is acting like I am…’’ she thought, seeing herself in him. Pouf had witnessed and observed her change back in NGL, and it had grown stronger over time. Pitou opened the door to the room where Komugi stayed. A simple bed hugged the far wall, while in the middle, another Gungi board stood, its pieces arranged in a meticulous position. It seemed that Komugi spent her little free time practicing Gungi by herself.

Pitou took a position at the side of the chamber, arms folded and alert, watching Komugi as she fumbled her way to her sitting mat. Komugi’s cane tapped lightly against the stone floor, her other hand sliding along the wall until she knelt and got comfortable.

“You play with such confidence,” Pitou said, her voice low and almost curious. She had spoken before she even realized it. She couldn’t explain why she felt the need to start a conversation with Komugi. The King had only ordered to make sure she was well-rested. Yet, it felt like the right decision to make, given the growing pressure she felt in her chest. 

Komugi stopped and turned toward Pitou. “Ah? You mean… me?” she asked, startled. Komugi knew Pitou’s voice by heart now, but this was the first time she had directly addressed her without the King’s presence.  

“Yes.” Pitou didn’t look directly at her. “Despite not seeing the board, you seem to know where every piece is.”

Komugi tilted her head. “I don’t need to see the board,’’ she said warmly. ‘’By telling me where the pieces move out loud, I can still see them. It’s like I memorize the entire Gungi board in my head.’’

Pitou’s ears twitched. “You have no fear when you play him.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement.

Komugi nodded her head. “To be honest, the Supreme Leader is scary. He could kill me so easily if he wanted. But he doesn’t because he wants to play. So, I focus on the board and the game. That’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Pitou studied her silently. “Then what if the King does win against you?’’

Komugi smiled, brushing some stray hairs away from her simple robe. “Then I owe him my life. It’s worthless if I lose in Gungi, because without Gungi, I’m just another girl with no talent and no purpose. Yet, playing against the Supreme Leader gives me so much meaning, as if I matter. Isn’t that enough?”

The words hung in the air, heavy as stone.

Pitou glanced down at her claws, flexing one absentmindedly. “You think being seen is worth risking your life?”

“Yes.” Komugi nodded. “It’s worth it because someone like the Supreme Leader… Someone that strong… still cares about the game. And I know that I’m part of the reason he feels that way.”

Pitou’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to call the sensation exactly. But something about Komugi’s serenity, her faith, struck something fragile inside, like brushing too close to a barely-healed wound.

She didn’t know why, but Pitou slowly knelt beside her, mirroring Komugi’s posture without realizing it. Her claws rested beside her thighs, careful not to accidentally hurt Komugi.

Komugi’s brow creased in confusion when she noticed Pitou’s presence close to her. “Ah—forgive me my rudeness, miss Neferpitou. But—But did you sit down next to me?”

Pitou hesitated. “Yes. And call me Pitou.” Her chest pulsed again when she added that last part. With warmth. A warmth that soothed her without knowing why.

“I’m sorry, miss—I mean, Pitou! Such a dumb girl like myself should stop asking obvious questions but—” Komugi murmured. “…I didn’t think someone like you needed to sit.”

“I don’t,” Pitou replied.

Silence followed. Then Komugi offered a quiet smile. “You’re nice, Pitou,” she said.

Pitou blinked. “I am not nice.”

Komugi bowed her head. “I apologize if I say something out of place, but you seem nice to me, Pitou.’’ 

“That’s because the King has ordered me to make sure you’re well-rested for tomorrow’s Gungi matches. If he had ordered me to kill you, I would.’’

“Still.” She tilted her face toward Pitou’s voice. ‘’Your presence is gentle. I can feel it as you sit next to me. You have no ill intentions toward me.’’

Those words made Pitou stop. For the first time in her life, she did not have a response ready. Yet as she tried to make sense of it all, she couldn’t help but feel the same accomplishment she’d feel whenever she successfully mimicked Kite. Pitou said nothing and stared across the Gungi board. ‘’Maybe this is what the King is experiencing as well,’’ she thought. ‘’Komugi… You truly are special. You remind me of him so much… of Kite.’’

Her claws automatically picked up a Gungi piece. ‘’Komugi?’’ Pitou asked.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’…Can you teach me?’’

The soft gasp, followed by tears flowing freely down Komugi’s cheeks, tightened that warm feeling Pitou couldn’t explain.

‘’I would love nothing more.’’

Far longer.

Something about the curve of her shoulders disturbed him. The precision was there, yes. The military stillness, her perfect posture, that dutiful stride. But there was a softness, too. A lag in her gait. A contemplative drag of her claw. Pouf could only describe it as… human.

And that made his stomach twist.

He turned from the balcony and paced about the marble corridor, fingers steepled in front of him like a composer at rest between symphonies. “She’s changing,” he whispered to himself. That thought echoed louder the more he tried to deny it.

Ever since that girl arrived, things had been shifting. First, the King. That wasn’t entirely unexpected, Pouf had told himself. He was a superior being. Exposure to inferiors should invoke curiosity.

But now… Pitou again?

That was not part of his grand symphony. Pitou had been the foundation on which he wrote his notes. Yet ever since that encounter in NGL with that pitiful human, Pouf saw the growing confusion in her that shaped itself like a violin strung too tightly. Pouf had never once doubted her loyalty to the King. Yet, his chest heaved at the idea of what might happen if this continued.

“Why did she sit next to her?” he muttered. He’d heard faint whispers of their voices coming from the open window and figured out, clear as day, what happened inside. “Why did she kneel beside that girl as if they were equals?”

He imagined Pitou’s claws retracted at her sides, her spine sloping ever so slightly, and her voice, now carrying something almost… compassionate.

He clenched his jaw and realized he could not allow this to fester. “The King cannot afford infection,” he whispered. “Not from within. Not from the very Guard who was once the most clear-eyed among us.” He paused beside a column, staring into its smooth stone face as if it might offer answers.

Pitou’s shift would need to be corrected. With precision. With reminders. With pressure applied in just the right places.

“She’s cracked open,” he hissed. “I must ensure she’s sealed back shut.” Pouf spread his colorful wings and flew into the open air. ‘’Less than a week remains before the Selection. I shall restore Pitou back to the beautiful instrument she once was. So we can play the King a ballad… once more.’’

The pillars high above the palace looked dim, draped in the warm rays and shadows of early morning. Pitou sat on top, legs crossed, deeply drawn back in her mind. Though her eyes remained fixed upon the clusters of soldiers that she moved along the streets of Peijing, her thoughts strayed far from the battle displayed before her.

‘’I serve the King,’’ she thought.

Pitou’s arms, resting loosely over her knees, wouldn’t stop shaking. After her conversation with Komugi last night, after she had taught her Gungi, another strange feeling had welled up inside of her.

Happiness.

Pitou didn’t know what to make of it. Learning a game from a defenseless human girl, sitting next to her and slowly understanding how to move the different pieces, felt… liberating. 

‘’I serve the King.’’

Pitou tried to still her growing emotions that threatened to well up like a geyser. Instead, she forced herself to focus entirely on the soldiers she controlled around Peijing. In six days, the Selection would take place. Pitou had to make sure everyone stayed inside their homes so they could become mind-controlled zombies, ready to become food or become part of the King’s army. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept breaking and shifting.

She barely registered the sloppy movements of her puppet soldiers until multiple severed connections snapped her out of her mind. ‘’Hunters,’’ she thought. Pitou had already noticed losing control over a few dozen soldiers stationed further away in East Gorteau. She knew a group of powerful Pro Hunters had been advancing to stop the selection and kill the King.

Somehow, she realized that the two boys who had accompanied Kite were also present in that group.

Pitou’s mind churned. She could strike back, concentrate the remaining puppets, and tighten their formation for an apparent ambush. She knew it wouldn’t be enough to kill them, but it would slow them down. Yet the moment that thought finished forming, it recoiled from her mind.

Why did the idea seem… wrong?

‘’I serve the king.’’

She adjusted a thread, giving a lone puppet soldier a slow stagger to the alley where she sensed a child cowering in a stairwell. The soldier paused at the mouth of the alley, as if unsure of what to do. Pitou hovered her control over it, uncertain herself.

She had told herself to deal with any inconveniences that might pose a problem to the Selection. But this child… She was just a girl, no older than ten. She looked terrified as she tried to remain still and silent.

Pitou released the thread.

The puppet soldier didn’t move. She let it drop and turned her attention to the soldiers under her command, located much further out in East Gorteau. They had orders to round up all the villagers and bring them into Peijing for the Selection. Yet she encountered fewer and fewer humans in every village to which she sent soldiers. ‘’Someone is warning them. They know of our plans, and they’re trying to evacuate and save the villagers,’’ Pitou realized. 

Pitou could faintly detect their presence and adjusted her soldiers’ paths. Not to intercept whoever was doing this, but to avoid them altogether. Her claws flexed involuntarily. ‘’Why am I doing this? They’re enemies, threats to the King and his reign. I serve the King, do I not?’’ she thought.

Pitou’s grip tightened on her knees. ‘’Yet… They’re saving… humans. Risking their lives for people who’re weaker so they may live instead.’’

She remembered Kite’s voice back in NGL, distant and composed. The way he had protected those two boys, even though he outclassed them in every way. Her mind had called that weakness. But now she let a human child live and redirected her puppets with absurd specificity so that whoever warned the villagers could do their job without difficulty.

‘’I serve the King.’’

Images of Komugi and the King’s gentle expression toward her flashed in Pitou’s mind.

‘’Am I not serving the king… by doing this?’’

That thought grounded Pitou and made the weird surge of happiness spike back up in her chest. She still didn’t entirely understand it, but the fuzziness in her mind cleared. With great care, she redirected the remaining puppet soldiers in Peijing to a more defensive position. ‘’This way,’’ she thought, ‘’most people will stay out of accidental harm.’’

Pitou blinked when her arms had stopped shaking. ‘’I serve the King.’’ Suddenly, that thought had lost all the pressure it had carried previously, as if an enormous weight had lifted from her shoulders. ‘’Yes, I serve the King! I am loyal to him!’’ She put her remaining puppet soldiers in Peijing on standby and ordered them only to defend themselves when attacked.

A soft flutter of gentle wings turned her attention upward, where Pouf gently descended out of the sky to her side. ‘’I must apologize for intruding on your morning duties, but His Majesty has requested your presence,’’ Pouf explained, voice calm, expression neutral.

‘’I shall see him at once,’’ Pitou responded. She stood up from her sitting position in an almost human-like fashion, something that made Pouf’s eye twitch.

‘’Not yet. Pitou is a delicate string instrument. One wrong turn and I might snap a snare. I have to be precise. Calculated.’’ Pouf bowed his head. ‘’Please allow me to accompany you, Pitou. These are… urgent matters I must attend myself.’’

‘’Nya?’’ Pitou cocked her head, but didn’t say anything else. Her tail flicked, and she jumped down from the column she had rested on. Pouf followed her with a flutter of his wings.

The sun rose further above Peijing, coloring the clouds in tender hues of gold. Some rays broke through, hitting the windows of the throne room where Meruem sat behind a Gungi board. Komugi still slept in her chambers, just as he had intended. Once Pitou and Pouf entered—the former approaching the King, the latter staying behind—she went on one knee and bowed. ‘’You asked for me, My King?’’ 

Meruem didn’t immediately respond, his eyes still focused on the board in front of him. The normal stillness the King exuded could feel unsettling, but at the moment, it almost felt gentle. 

“Pitou.”

Her chest tightened instinctively. “Yes, my King?”

“I’ve noticed something.” He leaned back slightly on his throne. His eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re different.”

Pitou’s mouth opened, then closed. She had nothing prepared for this. She tried to draw from her old instincts, the clarity that once ruled her every thought, but they no longer offered answers—only fog.

Pouf’s expression remained neutral when the King called out Pitou. ‘’A faulty instrument needs to be corrected.’’

“I—” she began, then dropped her gaze. “I serve you as I always have.”

Meruem looked at her now. His eyes were neither cold nor angry, merely inquisitive. “Then why do you hesitate when you say it?”

She froze. There had been a hitch in her voice. A delay of barely a second. But he had heard it. “I did not mean to,” she said, straighter now. “It is not hesitation in service, my King. Only in… understanding myself.”

Something strange flashed in the King’s expression—a faint flicker of amusement, or interest, or both. He rested his cheek on one hand. “You speak like someone who’s begun to think.”

Pouf watched Pitou with half-lidded eyes. ‘’His Majesty is life. Our entire purpose in existence is to serve him. Thinking is questioning. And questioning shatters the loyalty we have for the King. Instinctively, she must start to realize this now.’’

Pitou felt it. Pouf’s eyes burned holes in her back. She chose her following words carefully. “I was made to think strategically. In service of your goals,” she said.

“But now,” he said, “you’re thinking about yourself… and who you are.”

Pitou had no answer for that. She knew the King had spoken the truth. She lowered her head even further and closed her eyes. ‘’Yes, I have,’’ she finally responded. ‘’If this does not serve you, My King, I will take any punishment you deem fit.’’

‘’Your Majesty!’’ Pouf thought, tears streaming freely down his cheeks in his mind, ‘’your words cut through the silence of Pitou’s soul like an orchestra! No one in this world can match your wit! Pitou shall be reborn and become even stronger!’’

“Actually, Pitou, I find it fascinating,” the King said. His voice was quieter now.

‘’Your Majesty!?’’ Pouf blurted out, unable to catch himself. Even Pitou couldn’t hide her gasp as she stared at her King with wide, feral eyes.  

The King ignored Pouf in favor of Pitou. “You were the most precise of my Royal Guard. You spoke with your claws more than with your mouth.’’ He paused and gauged her reaction. ‘’But lately, I’ve seen how you’re watching Komugi. I’ve seen your eyes linger when she speaks. I’ve seen your ears twitch when she laughs.”

‘’Your Majesty!’’ Pouf said again.

The King looked at Pouf with an unreadable expression. ‘’I did not order you to keep interrupting me.’’ He let a silence fall. ‘’Pitou, what do you think of Komugi?’’

‘“She is… interesting,” Pitou said. The words came slowly, cautiously. “She does not behave the way most humans do. She is… vulnerable, yet… special.’’

“She’s weak,” the King said. “She can barely walk without her cane. She cannot see the board. And yet, she humiliates me.”

Pitou didn’t flinch. She had long since stopped being surprised by his contradictions.

“Do you think I enjoy that?” he asked.

Pitou blinked. “You do not stop playing.”

“No,” he agreed. “I don’t.”

Silence returned, but this one felt heavier, denser, like something sitting between them. Pouf barely kept his mouth shut, sweat rolling down his cheeks. ‘’Impossible… Has that pathetic human girl already infected the King without me noticing!?’’

The King stood then, descending from his throne. He came to stand just in front of Pitou, and she instinctively lowered her head to the ground out of pure reverence.

“I do not know what this change in you means,” he said at last. “But I’m not sure I dislike it.”

That startled her. She looked up just enough to see his expression.

‘’You can’t, Your Majesty!’’ Pouf interjected, bowing deeply. ‘’You are the ultimate power! A King of your stature—can’t…!’’

 “I was told from the moment of my birth that power meant dominance. That instinct was law. That the strong devour the weak. And yet here we are, Pitou, thinking about a weak, blind girl who keeps beating me at Gungi.’’ He tilted his head. “What do you feel when you watch Komugi?”

Pitou could not lie. Not to him. “I feel… protective,” she admitted. “Not as a duty. Not even because you care for her, I feel it… separately.”

The King narrowed his eyes. “And that feeling. What do you think it is?”

Pitou paused. “Something I learned. Not something I was born with. I don’t fully understand it yet, but it feels correct. Like a warmth spreading in my chest. I feel it would serve you even better than I already have.” She looked back at the ground again.

Meruem nodded once. “Good.”

Pouf couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face when he heard his King speak. He gritted his teeth, but no words came out of his mouth as he lay still on the ground. ‘’The King has been infected. Pitou is spiraling further. This can’t possibly get any worse!’’ 

Pitou hesitated. “…You’re not upset with my change?’’

The King stepped back again, folding his arms behind him. His voice was cooler now, but still measured. “I would be, if it weakened you.”

She took that in stride. ‘’My King, you too feel that this is strengthening me?’’

“Even more so,” he said, “you are evolving, too.”

With that, he turned and walked to the window, gazing out across the city his rule now shadowed. The clouds grew darker now. Rain approached.

Pitou remained where she was, unmoving, but inside, her thoughts unfurled in new directions. She had expected a reprimand or a demand for unwavering loyalty. But the King had offered something she wouldn’t have expected in a million years.

Permission.

Permission to wonder.

Permission to grow.

And perhaps, in time, she’d find the knowledge that her choices would no longer be dictated solely by what she was made for. But by what—and who—she chose to become.

Chapter Text

The sun had dipped below the misty skyline, casting Peijing in long shadows that softened the palace’s geometry. The streets had become less chaotic now. Both Pro Hunters, who had kept taking out Pitou’s puppet soldiers, were nowhere to be found.

Pitou figured they had a way of traveling with Nen, because she never noticed them enter or leave the city. After her conversation with the King, Pitou asked for permission to leave the palace grounds. Leaving the King unprotected went against every instinct she had. Pitou knew both Pouf and Youpi would stay close and that the King could dispose of any threat himself if he wanted.

Still, Pitou’s newfound urges told her to go to Peijing. The King had nodded his head with an amused glint in his eyes. He, too, didn’t quite understand Pitou’s change yet. A change that took hold of him, too. The King’s permission had been enough for Pitou to go through with the plan. Her protesting instincts now slowly stilled. ‘’I am protecting the King by doing this,’’ she reasoned. What she was doing exactly, she didn’t know. Pitou moved in silence along the outer edges of the capital’s southeastern sector.

‘’If I run into one or both of the Pro Hunters, I’ll simply flee,’’ she thought. Pitou didn’t question those odd thoughts anymore. Normally, she’d attack and kill. But now, the King had given her permission to grow and understand. These thoughts felt right, strengthening her resolve and amplifying that warm feeling in her chest.  

Pitou moved without haste through the narrow alleyways, her Nen shrouded and nearly invisible to any but the most perceptive. Her aura flexed softly, like a held breath.

She moved toward the poorer outskirts, where families had huddled in what homes remained. The smell of ash still clung to the streets. She had burned human corpses here only weeks ago, people unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. They hadn’t been necessary for the Selection. 

She didn’t know why she walked here now.

Not until she saw a girl.

A child crouched beside a broken wall, sobbing softly into her knees. Her leg was twisted wrong, likely fractured. She didn’t scream, just whimpered in dull rhythm, as if death had already taken her hostage. There was no one else nearby. No humans, nor Pro Hunters, heard her faint sobs and whimpers for help.

Pitou paused while her claws twitched at her sides. Those cold, precise thoughts that once governed her mind flickered on and off like faulty lights. This child wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t valuable. In a breath, Pitou could end her life if she wished.

But… Pitou stepped forward.

The girl didn’t notice at first. But when she did, her eyes went wide with terror. She tried to scramble back, but her leg sent her into a silent convulsion of pain.

Pitou knelt. Slowly, gently, she kept her claws down, palms open.

The girl shook. “P-please,” she whispered. “Please don’t—don’t kill me—”

“I won’t,” Pitou said, and then blinked. She’d spoken before she thought. The words came from somewhere beneath thought, a place that had not existed before.

The girl cried harder. “I—I didn’t do anything wrong—”

“I know.”

Pitou’s voice was still her own, but quieter, softer.

Almost like Komugi’s.

She reached out slowly and placed one claw near the girl’s leg, then summoned Doctor Blythe. The creature emerged with a soft flutter. Paper-soft appendages lowered beside them. Doctor Blythe blinked eerily, but otherwise stayed silent.

The girl stared at it in frozen awe. “Is… Is it going to hurt me?”

Pitou cocked her head, not expecting the child to see Doctor Blythe. ‘’She must be a human with Nen potential.’’ Usually, knowledge like this would make Pitou want to capture and experiment. Yet now, her desire to help this girl overpowered even her instincts. “No,” Pitou said eventually. “She helps.”

She hadn’t used Doctor Blythe like this in days. Not since the King had ripped off his arm. Not for… someone this unimportant.

The pain left the child’s face in waves. Her leg gradually shifted back into alignment, pulled delicately by invisible Nen threads. Her expression relaxed into something confused, still tear-streaked, but no longer terrified. When it was done, Pitou stood. Doctor Blythe vanished again.

The girl stared up at her, then mumbled gracefully, “Thank you.”

Pitou froze.

The words struck her chest, causing a wave of warmth to grow and spike in such a powerful surge that it threatened to make her gasp. Pitou still didn’t understand why it happened, but she definitely felt it.

And she wanted it again.

She left the child with instructions to hide and moved back toward the city center. She helped again the next day. A mother pinned beneath rubble. Pitou lifted the beam without being asked. The day after, she diverted two puppet soldiers away from a sheltering group of villagers and sent them in a wide loop instead.

Each act was small. They weren’t enough to change the course of any battle, barely even enough to register in the grand scope of the Selection coming up.

But something shifted every time she did it.

And that night, as she stared at her reflection in a shattered windowpane, Pitou touched her chest. She didn’t know this version of herself. She hadn’t been made to do this. The King hadn’t ordered her.

But it felt…

Correct. Pleasant.

Just like the stance she had mimicked from Kite: grounded and centered.

And terrifying too.

Pitou knew Pouf disapproved, even though the King had given her permission. She also knew that her instincts still tugged at her, trying to pull her back. ‘’What you’re doing is weakness,’’ her mind whispered to her.

Pitou shook her head. ‘’It’s not weakness. It’s… strength.’’ She gasped when Kite’s actions, after so long, suddenly fell into place. ‘’Helping the weak… is strength. The King is starting to understand this, too…’’ Pitou widened her eyes. ‘’Nyow I understand… I am serving the King… by protecting the weak.’’

Those thoughts still felt like a contradiction to Pitou, but her chest heaved in a comfortable numbness when she made the realization. ‘’What I’m doing is showing the King’s strength, lowering yourself and helping people who are weaker than you shows the ultimate strength through humility. Killing weaker beings than you does not require strength; it’s easy. But defending those who need it, especially when you’re way stronger… Even risking your life for them… It requires an immeasurable amount of strength.’’

Pitou stood up. ‘’Nyow I understand, Kite. What you showed me… was a kind of strength previously unobtainable by a Chimera Ant. You showed me…’’ Pitou paused.

‘’Humanity.’’    

The east wing of the palace was quiet, save for the occasional sliver of wind pressing against the windows. Pouf walked through the corridors like a shadow. His movements appeared light, perfect, a study in orchestration. And yet the knot in his chest would not untangle.

He did not pace. That would have been unseemly. Instead, he walked with intention, a violinist stretching through long, measured notes in a dirge no one else could hear.

Somewhere, something had gone horribly wrong.

It had appeared like a speck of dirt back in NGL. Presenting itself as insignificant, subtle as a hairline crack in glass, almost invisible.

Until it shattered in your hands.

And the source, not the Pro Hunters who had steadily advanced to stop the Selection from happening.

No.

Neferpitou.

She had always been the most loyal among them—the most focused. Youpi was a creature of raw impulse and unthinking duty. Pouf accepted that. He was helpful in his way, albeit blunt and somewhat monstrous. But Pitou—Pitou was elegance. Precision. A violin of the highest class.

Or so he had believed.

Until the slip began.

Pouf had watched and tried to steer Pitou away from her lingering confusion. Very soft adjustments to her tune. Yet her dissonance kept echoing and growing louder. When he realized he couldn’t fix such a delicate instrument as Pitou himself, he left it in the hands of the King.

A being like the King would not falter. He’d be swift. Just. Precise. Yet… The opposite had happened. The King had thought her change to be interesting!

As if her fall was… enlightening!

Pouf gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to admit it, but after the King’s conversation with Pitou, her deadly efficiency seemed to melt as if she had been merely pretending before! Pouf could maybe accept if it had stayed with that.   

But then came the odd absences.

The moments when Pitou was not at her post. The vague excuses: patrols, errands, puppet management.

And last night, he had seen her. Not up close. No, that would’ve been too obvious without drawing attention. But he had watched her kneel beside a human child in the rubble and watched her heal.

Heal!

Without orders. Without need!

He tried to calm himself as he returned to his quarters. He folded his wings tightly behind his back and sat before his massive harp that lined the far wall. His fingers brushed the strings—once, twice—then paused.

Music did not come.

Only the hum of rising anxiety.

“What are you doing, Pitou?” he whispered aloud, voice velvet, but shaking underneath. “What flaw has opened inside you?”

He had always believed in symmetry. The Royal Guard was born of perfection. Their minds aligned in purpose, their cells tuned to harmony. The King was their center—their sun—and they circled him in unerring devotion.

But now…

Now Pitou’s orbit was slipping.

The King had changed, too. Alarmingly so. Pouf had written it off as mere curiosity when he played Gungi with that blind girl. But with every passing day, it grew like an infection.

And Pitou spread that infection like a catalyst.

“They’re being poisoned,” Pouf said under his breath. “By the humans. By that blind girl. By that man she killed. Kite.”

He nearly spat the name.

He stood suddenly, wings unfurling, knocking over the chair in a burst of frustrated grace. “She doesn’t even see it! She thinks that showing compassion to the weak is a good thing. As if we become stronger by doing so.” His pacing began in earnest now, shoes clicking sharply across the polished floors. ‘’She is losing herself. She is betraying us with her behavior, and no one sees it!’’

Youpi, of course, hadn’t noticed. He wouldn’t unless Pitou declared open rebellion. The King, of course, had seen, but he had indirectly given her permission to explore these feelings.

That, above all, was the actual threat.

If Pitou kept changing… What was to stop the King from following her?

Pouf folded his hands together and bowed his head, the flutter of his wings dimming. “I cannot allow it,” he hissed. “I must restore order. I must correct this growing sickness in Pitou, so we can heal the King and serve his reign as we were meant to do.”

Pouf had tried gentle tactics; Pouf had tried underhanded tactics. None of these had worked so far, and they most likely wouldn’t work if he tried again. No, something in Pitou had already turned. And if she could not be turned back, then she would have to be cleansed.

Even if that meant he had to break the harmony the Royal Guard stood for.

Pitou was alone on the second terrace overlooking the outer grounds. From here, one could see the dusty remnants of Peijing’s rooftops and in the far distance, the slow motion of military puppet units shuffling through alleys on her command. Her hands were half-raised, clawed fingers twitching delicately like a puppeteer at rest. She hadn’t moved in ten minutes.

Not until the air shifted behind her.

Pouf’s voice, smooth as honeyed venom, came just behind her shoulder. “I’ve been watching you.”

Pitou turned her head only slightly, not startled, not quite. But her shoulders did tense.

“I assumed as much,” she said.

He stepped forward, folding his wings neatly. No outward rage. No shouted accusations. Just the glimmer of restrained intensity behind his golden eyes.

“I saw what you did,” he said, voice a touch quieter. “That injured human girl near the north checkpoint. You healed her.”

Pitou said nothing.

“She wasn’t useful for the upcoming Selection. She had no strategic value. She wasn’t even conscious. And yet you bent over her and healed her spine. I watched the threads weave back through her nerves like silk. What would you call that, Pitou? A tactical oversight?”

“I don’t answer to you,” she said evenly. “I serve the King.”

“You serve your feelings,” he hissed. “You’re falling.”

“No,” she said. Her hands dropped. She turned to face him fully now, ears twitching. “I’m changing. There’s a difference.”

Pouf’s lip curled slightly. “That’s not change. That’s corruption.”

Pitou stepped forward. She didn’t raise her voice, but her tone thickened. “You’re afraid because I don’t fit into the perfect narrative you wrote for us.”

“I’m afraid,” Pouf said, almost trembling now, “because you’re endangering him—the King. You can’t even see it, how you’re diluting him with your human sympathies. You think they’re worth saving now? You think that Komugi, that Kite, that these pitiful apes stumbling through life, through war, are our equals? You think that’s a strength!?”

“No,” Pitou said, and this time there was a bite in it. “I feel that it is.”

That made him recoil. “You were our spine, Pitou,” Pouf muttered, voice tight with something that approached grief. “You were the scalpel. Cold. Exact. Now look at you. You stand like them. You speak like them. You’ve turned soft!’’

“I still follow the King,” she said. “More than ever!”

“Then prove it. Right now. Come with me to the villages north of Peijing. We’ll finish the Selection there ourselves and crush every Hunter that tries to oppose us. No hesitation. No mercy. Just us and the loyalty that binds us to the King!”

She looked away. The pause was barely a second, but it was enough.

“You see?” Pouf said, voice sharpening. “There. That pause. You hesitated. You would let them live!”

Pitou’s pupils narrowed.

“I’ve been seeing the way you look at the King,” Pouf went on, his voice rising. “Like a lost child watching her father get out of arm’s reach. You’re terrified that he’s moving to heights you can’t fathom. To a being that would smother these insignificant thoughts you experience about Kite. So you cling to humanity to feel relevant, and in turn, poison the well he drinks from. But you don’t belong to humans. You belong to him.”

“I know that!” Pitou shouted. Her voice cracked like a whip, and even the clouds above them seemed to hold their breath.

“I was born to protect him. I have bled for that role. But I’ve watched him change. I’ve watched him look at Komugi and see something that matters to him. And I’ve watched myself—feel. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want to remember Kite’s expression when he died. I didn’t choose any of it. But it’s here. And you know what frightens you?”

She stepped forward now, chest to chest.

“That you don’t feel it. That you can’t. Because your version of loyalty is too shallow to withstand a contradiction.”

Pouf’s fists clenched. “Don’t presume to understand my loyalty.”

“Oh, I don’t presume,” she said darkly. “I’m certain.”

He moved suddenly—hand rising, energy flaring—until a massive fist slammed down between them.

Youpi.

Neither had heard him approach. The brute stood with his usual unreadable stare, but he splayed his hand between them like a wall.

“That’s enough,” he said.

They both paused. Neither stepped back.

Pouf’s voice had dropped again, low and venomous. “If you fall too far, Pitou, I will act. Even if it breaks everything we are.”

Pitou didn’t flinch. “Then be ready to break.”

Youpi looked between them and exhaled. “Can someone explain to me what the hell is happening?” he muttered. Youpi’s massive arm remained outstretched between them, claws dug into the stone like rebar into concrete. Dust still hung faintly in the air from the impact.

The silence that followed was thick.

Pitou’s shoulders heaved. Her eyes, typically so wide and gleaming with curiosity or precision, were dark now. Still, she took a breath and shifted a half step back.

Pouf did not.

He didn’t even blink.

“Youpi,” Pitou said quietly, not taking her eyes off Pouf. “Thank you.”

Youpi didn’t retract his hand. His flat voice rumbled between them. “I’m not here for thanks. I’m here because the King wants all three of us alive. That includes not turning each other to pulp.”

Pouf’s wings twitched. “And yet one of us isn’t what they were.”

Youpi looked at him now, really looked. “You’re right,” he said. “She’s different.”

Pouf opened his mouth, but Youpi raised a finger the size of a grown man’s thigh.

“But so is the King. And we haven’t disobeyed him for it.”

Pouf’s expression faltered for a single beat, a microsecond of uncertainty. Then his voice turned like a knife.

“The King… is dangerously close to tipping off the edge. Pitou’s regression is only encouraging him to make that final leap!”

“That’s your fear talking,” Pitou said. “Because if he changes like I have, your loyalty means less than nothing. You call my change weakness, but you’re the one afraid to adapt.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand exactly,” she cut in. “You think I betray the King. I don’t. I’m evolving with him.”

“And you think I’m static?” Pouf snapped. “That I don’t feel the pressure of his change? I do! But I won’t dilute my purpose with disobedience!”

“No,” she said. “Just with delusion.”

“Enough!” Youpi snapped, louder now, voice booming like a war drum. “We’re not solving anything here except who can yell the loudest. This isn’t the time.”

“Youpi—” Pouf started.

“No, listen.” Youpi’s massive shoulders squared. “I don’t understand humans. I don’t want to. But I understand survival. And right now, our King’s changing fast. You think he doesn’t see all of this? He sees everything. He sees Komugi. He sees you, Pitou. He even sees your meltdown, Pouf.”

Pouf inhaled sharply. But he didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t know what the right path is. But I know this: the only thing that matters is what the King wants. Not what you want, Pouf. Not what you fear. And if Pitou’s new way of thinking helps him? Even a little?”

Youpi’s eyes narrowed. “Then maybe we need that more than your obsession with purity.”

Pouf stood silent for a long moment, nostrils flaring.

Then, at last, he turned away.

“I’m warning you,” he said, voice distant, venom cooled to a bitter simmer. “The King may allow this indulgence for now. But I will not wait forever. If you endanger him again—”

“—Then you’ll do what you must,” Pitou finished flatly.

Pouf vanished, scattering into a hundred fluttering clones that dissipated on the wind like smoke.

Only Youpi and Pitou remained on the terrace.

The brute looked down at her, expression unreadable.

“…You sure about this?” he asked at last.

She glanced up at him, eyes softer now. The storm of the moment gone, but not forgotten.

“No,” she said. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.”

Youpi grunted. “Then don’t die proving it.”

He turned and lumbered off, heavy steps shaking dust from the floor.

Pitou stood alone again on the edge of the terrace, watching the horizon where dawn broke over the distant ridges. “I was made to protect the King,” she murmured to herself. “That means protecting what he’s beginning to care for.”

And in the quiet that followed, for the first time, Neferpitou felt no contradiction in that thought.

Just resolve and warmth.

Chapter Text

The conversion chamber reeked of antiseptic Nen, clean and potent. Specks of dust flickered faintly under fluorescent lights, and on the center slab, Palm Siberia lay unconscious. Her neck had a pretty big gash from when she’d tried—and failed—to take her own life.

Pitou stood at her side, arms folded behind her back. The air felt thick… too thick.

Pouf entered, as he always did, without sound or invitation. His wings swept back like the train of a funeral coat. “A human has crept through our walls,” he said mildly, though there was no mistaking the disdain that laced his tongue. “A Hunter, no less. Disrespectful.”

Pitou did not turn. “I know.”

Pouf glided forward, stopping on the opposite side of the slab. He looked down at Palm as if inspecting a failed experiment. “She’s… persistent,” he murmured. “We’ll make use of that.” He traced a finger across Palm’s temple, leaving a faint glimmer of Nen behind. “She’ll be a fine soldier once her mind is cleaned. The old personality scrubbed. A blank vessel.”

Pitou’s ears twitched, but she remained still. Inside, though, something crawled under her chest. “A blank vessel? Like Kite’s face when I took his life? Like all those innocent humans I have already killed?’’ she thought regretfully.

Pouf turned to her then, smiling with teeth too perfect. “You’ll perform the procedure, of course. The King’s healer must oversee all important alterations. Wouldn’t want her to break halfway through.”

Pitou’s tail flexed behind her tightly. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’re unusually quiet,” Pouf said. His tone was breezy, but the undercurrent of accusation ran cold. “Usually, you take an interest in live dissections. Has healing all those precious humans dulled your appetite?”

Pitou slowly turned her gaze to him. “Has yours ever been more than performance?”

The words hung in the air like the bite of winter wind. Pouf’s eyes narrowed, his composure cracking underneath the thinly veiled layer of gentleness he exuded. ‘’Then, you wouldn’t mind if I stayed and oversaw the operation.’’

It wasn’t a request.

Pitou blinked. “Why? She won’t be a threat anymore.”

Pouf stepped forward with deliberate calm, each movement as measured as the blade of a guillotine. “Won’t she? I wonder. You’ve been… careless lately.”

“You mean compassionate.”

Pouf sneered faintly. “I mean unsound. You let sympathy creep into your precision. And now here you are, once again standing over a human with that look on your face.”

A flicker of annoyance ran through Pitou’s body. Her eyes narrowed, and her tail swayed restlessly behind her. “And what look is that?”

“The same one you had when mimicking Kite. Soft. Fractured. Human.’’ Pouf spat that last word.

Pitou’s ears gave a twitch. Her claws hovered over the slab where Palm’s body rested, irritation creeping into her voice. “I followed the King’s orders then, just as I am now.”

An amused guffaw escaped Pouf’s mouth. “Really now? Spare me the script. You’re rewriting the orders in your own image. You think I don’t see the difference?”

Pitou finally turned her head slowly, pupils dilating into catlike slits. “You’re still afraid.”

“I’m aware. Of what you’re becoming. And how it will endanger the King. You’re dancing closer to them every day. These fragile little vermin who cry when they lose. Does their sadness fascinate you that much?”

“Their will does,” she replied simply, irritation rising further.

Pouf leaned in, voice low and poisonous. “You’re contaminating us. If you sabotage this conversion—”

“I won’t.”

“—then you’ve stepped out of line, and I will inform the King. Your position is not above correction.”

Pitou straightened, unflinching. “You don’t trust me.”

“Not for a moment.”

“Good.”

Pouf blinked, caught off-guard by her response.

“It means you’re watching. So, you’ll see I do exactly what’s required… and nothing more.”

Pouf’s face twisted into a tight, unreadable expression—one part disgust, one part suspicion. “Don’t test my patience, Neferpitou.”

Blood red aura seeped from Pitou, whose expression turned murderous. “Don’t test mine in turn, Shaiapouf,” she hissed.

Pouf’s wings rustled behind him. Beyond irritated, but he said no more. He turned on his heels and vanished into the shadows beyond the sterile light. Then, his mind whispered to him. ‘’Will you really let a defective instrument play you as if you’re its music!?’’

He stopped, stood there in the doorway, half-turned, his golden eyes resting squarely on Pitou’s back. “You know, Neferpitou. You’ve grown arrogant, speaking to me like that.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Her claws hovered over the unconscious body of Palm again, the faint pulse of her Nen flickering in the air.

“Is it the proximity to Komugi? Or the illusion that the King’s benevolence and patience have graced you just enough to permit you to think?” He stepped closer again. “Because if that’s it… I pity you.”

“You mistake clarity for arrogance, Shaiapouf.”

“No, Neferpitou. I compare unnecessary kindness to betrayal. And I see you have become very kind to these weak, pitiful humans lately.” He stopped just at her side, close enough to catch the steady rhythm of her breathing. For a second, he said nothing, as if trying to see inside her. “Tell me. When this woman wakes up… Will she be one of us? Or one of them?”

Pitou’s claws paused mid-air. “She’ll be a Chimera Ant.”

“Really now?” he spat, tilting his head. “Because I have the rising suspicion you’ve altered something. I can feel it. Some unseen Nen thread in her mind to save her. A loophole to work around the conversion!”

Pitou whipped her head around dangerously, meeting his eyes with a murderous glint. The silence could be cut with a knife. “And what if I had?’’ she challenged Pouf defiantly. ‘’Would you tell the King?”

“I would remove your head before you had the chance to explain yourself!”

“Then why haven’t you? Clearly, I’m altering something, right? Or is it that you’re afraid of me?”

A shallow laugh escaped Pouf’s mouth. “Being afraid of you, Neferpitou, is like being afraid of a human. Your defiance makes you just as weak as Kite.’’

That struck a nerve in her. Pitou had to use all of her willpower not to leap at Pouf then and there.

‘’And as for why I haven’t taken your head yet,’’ Pouf continued, ‘’is because I haven’t decided if your death would serve the King more than your complete failure as a Royal Guard.” His voice was low, silky, and soaked in menace. ‘’But go ahead, show me you’re not altering something. I’ll use Spiritual Message on you to find out your true intentions. You won’t mind, right?’’

A feral hiss escaped Pitou’s mouth. ‘’How about I use Terpsichora on you in return? Surely you won’t mind if I took your head off before you could blink, right?’’

Pouf didn’t flinch. There was only a slight pause, just barely noticeable, before Pouf closed his eyes. ‘’Keep up your defiance, Neferpitou. It will be obvious to everyone soon enough.’’

“And yet, the King still trusts me.”

That silenced him for just a heartbeat. His jaw twitched, almost imperceptibly. “For now.”

‘’Always. He knows I’ll stay forever loyal to him. I always have. I always will.’’ Not a single shred of doubt was present in her voice. ‘’You, on the other hand, Shaiapouf, are undermining the King and his change. Your blind quest for perfection will smother your loyalty and make you fade away like the ant you are.’’

That hit something. Pouf’s eye twitched, yet he still managed a smile—tight, sharp, and poisonous. “Watch yourself, Neferpitou. You’re slipping further and further. And if you fall far enough…” He leaned in, close enough to whisper, breath tickling her ear. “…There won’t be anything left for the King to save.”

He pulled back.

“And I won’t be the one weeping over your corpse.” Then, finally, he turned and left, each footstep down the corridor echoing further away.

Pitou exhaled slowly, fingers trembling above Palm’s still body. ‘’Shaiapouf. You’re incorrect about me altering something unseen in her,’’ she thought with clear resolve. ‘’I’m going to alter so much that there’s no doubt about what I did.’’   

Pitou went to work. She threaded psychic sinew through memory channels and emotion anchors. Left neural signatures uncleaned. Embedded anchors in the frontal lobe, strong enough to endure the flood of change. She made sure Palm would wake up and know exactly who she was.

As her fingers moved, her thoughts churned. “You’ll remember your name. Your fury. Your purpose. I won’t take that from you.’’ She continued without missing a beat. ‘’Not again. Not like Kite.” Pitou’s mind was clear. Sharp. Precise. Even more so than it had ever been. “I’m not… what I was. I’m still Neferpitou. But now, I serve the King by helping those who need it.’’

She sealed the last layer of Nen and stepped back, chest tight. Palm’s breath hitched faintly in her chest. Pitou stayed a moment longer, gaze drifting to the door. She knew Pouf probably watched her with some of his clones fluttering nearby. She imagined the tight smile he would wear while telling the King.

And still, she didn’t undo what she had done.

“I don’t know what you’ll do when you wake up,” Pitou whispered, voice barely audible beneath the hum of machinery. “But you’ll do it as yourself. That much, I can give you.”

Pitou stepped into the shadows and left Palm to sleep.

The throne room felt quieter than usual. The low hum of Chimera Ant Soldiers and Squadron Leaders around the palace felt distant, as if the world knew to tread softly in the King’s presence today.

Neferpitou entered alone.

The King sat near Komugi’s resting place, his posture as rigid as stone. Komugi had played Gungi with him until she’d fallen asleep on the spot. The King didn’t look at Pitou as she approached, nor when she dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

She waited for the King to speak, her conscience clear. Pitou knew that this was coming. Shaiapouf had told the King what she had done—or rather, hadn’t done with Palm. She didn’t regret it. The only thing she regretted now wasn’t coming clean to the King himself. 

“I heard about the human,” Meruem said at last, his voice low and contemplative.

Pitou’s ears flicked. She couldn’t detect a hint of anger in the King. Still, she kept her head low to the ground. “Yes, my King.”

“She tried to infiltrate the palace. Made it dangerously far.” He paused. “And you… chose not to erase her mind.” The words weren’t accusatory; they weren’t even harsh. But they pierced sharper than any blade Shaiapouf could have wielded.

“I altered her,” Pitou replied carefully. “But I left… threads intact.”

Meruem slowly turned to her now. His eyes—those impossible, knowing eyes—bored into her. “Why?”

Pitou straightened, claws folded neatly in her lap. Her complete submissiveness demonstrated her loyalty to the King. Not out of fear, but simply out of respect and awe for him.

“Because she was strong,” she said finally. “Because she had purpose. Because—” Pitou exhaled slowly, grounding herself in the memories she had of Kite. “—Because wiping her clean would have made her a machine without thoughts. You deserve more than tools. You deserve people… who choose you.”

There was a silence. Meruem tilted his head slightly, voice still calm. “I’ve spoken with Pouf. He says you’re growing unstable. Unpredictable. Traitorous.”

Pitou didn’t flinch. This, too, was something she’d seen coming. “He’s afraid,” she whispered.

“Of the change that’s happening in you. Of the change that’s happening in me,’’ Meruem finished.

A long pause, before Pitou answered.

“Yes.”

Meruem looked away, not in dismissal, but in thought. The candle lights near Komugi’s sleeping form seemed to flicker gently, casting long shadows on the marble floor.

“I once thought compassion was a weakness,” he said. “But Komugi… She made me realize. And in that realization, I found clarity.” He turned back to Pitou. “Have you found the same?”

Pitou’s claws curled slightly. “I’ve found more than clarity, Your Majesty.’’

“What have you found, then?”

She raised her eyes. “Trust. Trust… in humanity.” Her voice didn’t waver. The resoluteness in her eyes shone through like newborn stars twinkling in the sky.

Another pause. Meruem regarded her with a deep, unreadable quietness. “You trust humans to lead us the way?”

“I trust that they can choose to do the right thing—protect those who need protection. And I trust that the ones who do willingly are stronger than anything we can force.”

Meruem was silent. Pitou continued, her voice softer now.

“When I fought Kite,” she said, the words like ash on her tongue, “he showed a resolve I did not understand. He protected two boys who were weaker than he was. For a long time, I’ve tried to understand what gave him so much strength. With time, I came to realize it wasn’t muscle. It wasn’t Nen. It was—‘’

‘’—will,” Meruem finished.

“Yes,” Pitou whispered, her eyes flashing in quiet respect for the King. “And I see it in Komugi, I saw it in Palm… And I see it now… in you.’’

Meruem sat back. “And do you think… this will make us stronger? This trust, this will… This humanity?”

Pitou looked up. “Yes, I think it’ll make us more complete. Truer. And that’s a strength we previously couldn’t obtain.”

He didn’t respond for a while, as if deep in thought. “Pouf believes perfection lies in raw power. In showing pure dominance.”

“I know,” Pitou said.

“And you believe it lies in… freedom?”

Pitou shook her head slightly. “Not freedom, but choice. The will to act. The will to protect the weak. Humanity has shown me… that is true strength.’’

Meruem stood slowly, his aura tightening around him like a silent storm. “Would you still obey me,” he asked, “If I told you to undo everything you did to that woman—Palm?”

Pitou didn’t look away. “Yes, my King.”

His gaze darkened. “Even now?”

“Yes,” she said. “But not without telling you why it would be a mistake.”

That stopped him. Meruem walked a few steps past her, toward the window, where distant plains stretched endlessly under the dimming sky.

“She will wake up with her memories intact?”

“Most of them. Enough to know who she was. Who she is.”

“And if she turns on us?”

“Then I’ll stop her.”

He turned again. “Will you kill her?”

“If she threatens you,” Pitou said with quiet conviction. “I won’t hesitate.”

For the first time since she entered, something in Meruem’s posture softened. Not warmth, but perhaps understanding.

“You’ve really changed,” he said. “But your loyalty remains.”

Pitou lowered her head again. “It always will.”

Meruem nodded once, almost to himself. “Very well. Let her wake as herself.”

Pitou blinked, just once. Her breath caught faintly in her chest.

“You will watch her. Closely,” he added. “And if your trust proves misplaced, I will hold you accountable.”

“I understand.”

He turned back toward Komugi, lowering himself beside her once again. His voice, when it came next, was gentler.

“Perhaps it is not only I who must evolve.”

Pitou remained kneeling for a long time. For the first time, it didn’t feel like penance.

It felt like purpose.

The corridors outside the throne room were quiet. Pale light ran along the walls, illuminating the marbled stones. The silence felt deafening to Pitou as she stepped out and closed the doors behind her, jaw tight, her mind still ringing with the King’s words.

He had listened to her! He had agreed with her! And most importantly, he had understood her reasoning and still accepted her unwavering loyalty! Even now when she had started to learn—and appreciate—humanity.

Yet, as she made her way to the inner gardens, a tight lump in her throat formed. Pitou stopped and closed her eyes. She sensed Pouf before he spoke. He didn’t breathe as others did. He simply arrived, like a thought you didn’t want to have.

“You spoke with him,” Pouf said from behind. His voice, as always, was calm and distant. It had a slight, raw edge to it that involuntarily made a shiver roll through Pitou’s spine.

Pitou didn’t turn. She didn’t want to give him that respect. “Yes.”

A calculated silence followed. She knew the way he paused. As if he were choosing which knife to draw. “And?” he said condescendingly. “Did you confess to what you’ve done?”

Pitou clenched her fists, and her tail flicked. ‘’As if you haven’t talked with the King already about what I did,’’ she thought. With steely precision, she kept looking ahead. “I explained to the King my reasoning. He approved of it,” she said simply.

Pouf took a step forward. The sound of it was louder than it should have been, as if the garden itself braced for what came next.

“He approved,” he echoed flatly and coldly. “Of your overruling of his will? Of your… emotional sabotage?” Venom laced every syllable leaving his mouth.

Pitou whirled to face him now, eyes sharp. “He understood. He saw it for what it was.”

Pouf’s gaze narrowed dangerously. His eyes flashed with disgust, as if he looked at something rotten. “You told him about that vile human that snuck into the palace to kill him, and how you deliberately botched her surgery…” He paused, as if he couldn’t believe what she said. “And he understood why you still left her memories intact!?’’

“I told him my reasoning,” she replied, stepping closer. “And he accepted it.”

“He accepted it,” Pouf murmured, soft with fury, ‘’because you wrapped your betrayal in gentle, honeyed whispers. With human sentiment. Weakness disguised as strength and growth!”

A soft hiss escaped Pitou’s mouth. ‘’Are you still going on about how I’m betraying the King? I am more loyal to him than I’ve ever been! Especially now that I’m understanding what true strength is—something which you will never do, Shaiapouf.’’ She cocked her head. ‘’And you know what? The King is slowly understanding it, too.’’

“That’s what terrifies me,” Pouf said, voice splintering. “That you’ve dragged him down into your delusions of empathy, your grand feelings of self-righteousness, and call it evolution!” He stepped closer. Too close. His smile stretched too tight. “Tell me, Neferpitou. How far will you go before you admit you’ve turned against your nature?”

“I haven’t turned against my nature,” Pitou said, irritation rising like a growing thunderstorm. “I’ve grown with it, and now I’m starting to mold it into something more powerful, something more refined! But you… With your pathetic, feeble attempts at control, wouldn’t understand that.” Pitou’s lips curled into a snarl.

“I understand too well,” Pouf snapped. “You think deviation is growth. That if you feel more, it makes you more alive. More evolved.” He leaned in, voice just above a whisper. “But all I see is a beast trying to put on human skin and mistaking it for divinity.”

A perplexed laugh akin to a mewl escaped Pitou’s mouth. “You still believe control is strength,” Pitou said, almost surprised. “But strength without direction is just destruction!”

“And direction without obedience is treason,’’ he roared. The words cracked like thunder. Pouf paused and shivered. His voice had turned into a silent whisper now, overflowing with venom. “I see what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re humanizing him. With that dumb, blind girl. With yourself. And now with this latest traitorous act.” His voice rose with every word he spat.

“I’m making him understand true strength!” she shouted, getting right up in his face. “You want him to be a god who never questions! But what good is a god who doesn’t think?!” She seethed, and for a split second, Pouf flinched. She paused, breathing heavily. “You don’t know what loyalty means, Shaiapouf,” she said, voice trembling with fury. “You just know obedience. The King wants more than that now. He wants understanding. That’s something you’ll never give him.”

Pouf scoffed with so much malice that his entire body shook. “I’ve protected him,” he lashed out, teetering on the edge of righteous fury. “While you were busy stitching up the enemy, I was the one ensuring he stayed focused, that he remained strong! Meanwhile, you were going behind his back! Don’t talk to me about loyalty!”

“You haven’t been protecting him,” Pitou shot back, snarling with every word. “You were molding him into something that fit your fantasy. Your perfect little twisted fantasy where he acts as a puppet on your strings. And now that he’s moving beyond that, now that he’s shattering your perfect view of him, you blame me.’’ She laughed mockingly. ‘’You are an embarrassment, Shaiapouf. Afraid of turning obsolete.’’ 

Pouf’s expression froze for just a breath. “You think this is about me?” he hissed, voice trembling with cold fury. “You believe I care for my own place in all of this? No, Neferpitou. I care because he is the culmination of perfection, of destiny. And you, with your trembling claws and bleeding heart, would make him less. You laugh at me like I’m deluded. But you’re the one feeding him poison and calling it light. You’ve forgotten what we are. And if you stand in the way of his purity, then you have no place at his side.’’

He turned from Pitou then, walked away, and looked back.

“You are a traitor in slow motion, Neferpitou. I should just kill that disgusting blind girl when I have the chance and get this over with.”

Something shifted in her mind when he said that. Something that came only after too much had been said and too much had been pushed down. The air around Pitou grew heavy. Her pupils contracted into feral slits, and her Nen flared to incredible heights.

‘’You’re not hurting Komugi. Over my dead body,’’ Pitou’s mind whispered darkly. Her body jerked once and then stilled unnaturally. Then came her icy cold whisper.

‘’Terpsichora.”

The puppet emerged behind her like a phantom, its grotesque form lurching forward and bonding with her spine in a single violent jerk. Her limbs moved with inhuman fluidity now, grace carved from bloodlust. Threads of Nen trailed from her elbows, knees, and jawline, like a marionette hung on invisible strings, only this puppet danced to her will.

The garden exploded.

She launched at Pouf. No more words, there was nothing left to say. Her claws blurred as she aimed for the throat without hesitation and with no restraint.

She caught him. Flesh tore, deep blue blood sprayed in a high arc against the pale walls surrounding the garden. Her claws had sunk deep. The satisfying crack of a sternum caving beneath her strike echoed through the corridor.

But Pouf didn’t scream; he just smiled.

And then, he crumbled. He fell apart like a sand sculpture in a breeze. Cell by cell, dissolving in golden dust, until only a few winged particles remained, twisting in the air like dying insects.

A clone.

Pitou’s breath caught. Her Nen flared wildly, recoiling as realization struck like a thunderclap. “He wasn’t here,” she hissed, voice trembling with rage—not at him, but at herself.

Across the palace, where the real Shaiapouf knelt in the shadows above the inner sanctum, his smile finally dropped. He felt the intent behind that attack—the intent to silence him for good.

And it was enough.

“I was right,” he breathed to no one, his wings twitching violently. “She has fallen.” He stood, trembling not from fear, but purpose. “If the King cannot see it, then I must.” His aura shimmered around him wildly. No more debates. No more pleas.

From this moment forward, in Pouf’s mind, Neferpitou was an enemy.

Chapter Text

The low hum of the palace had quieted, but Shaiapouf’s footsteps still sounded a heartbeat too fast. He moved with grace, but his aura betrayed him. It flickered behind him in uneven pulses, like candlelight in a storm. Outside, dusk had turned the world violet. Inside, the King sat alone. Komugi had gone back to her chambers to catch up on some much-needed rest at his request.

Pouf entered the throne room with urgency. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing deeply. Not low enough to grovel, but just enough to hide the tremor in his voice.

Meruem’s eyes looked distant, as if he already knew why he was here. “Speak.”

Pouf straightened. “I have come to you not as a servant… but as someone who exists only for your perfection.”

A pause, then Meruem beckoned to Pouf with his fingers. “Continue.”

“Neferpitou has disobeyed you,” Pouf said quietly, yet with venom lacing every word. “She made a choice in your name without your consent. She altered the enemy, protected them, preserved their memories, and called it mercy. She claims you approved of it.”

Meruem stayed silent, his eyes betraying nothing.

“She has grown fond of the humans. She says this change in her heart is a strength. That her compassion serves you better than her claws. That she is evolving, by becoming like them.”

Meruem finally let his gaze rest on Pouf, its weight nearly staggering him. “I did approve,” the King said softly. “Because she made me consider something I had not before. That domination without understanding… is incompleteness.”

Pouf’s eyes flickered, pained. “And yet, Your Majesty, you did not command her to act that way. She decided, and then asked for forgiveness. That is not loyalty. That is seduction. She has bewitched you with this human sentiment—this false elevation!”

Meruem frowned, but it wasn’t anger. It was thought.

Pouf pressed forward, wings tense behind his back. “I have never doubted your power. But power without clarity is vulnerable. You are becoming vulnerable, my King. You speak more softly. You hesitate.”

Silence again.

Pouf’s voice trembled now with passion. “She wants you to be something else. Not a King, but a protector. A… shepherd! But you were born to reign. And to reign is not to serve!” He took a shaky breath, then knelt completely.

“I do not say this because I am envious. I say this because I love you, Your Majesty. I love your purity. Your design. Your power. And I cannot stand idly by as her vision of growth dilutes that brilliance.” Pouf paused, voice still trembling. ‘’I confronted her today, my King. She attacked me. She used Terpsichora with every intent to silence me, your own Royal Guard. It is treason!’’

The words hovered, heavy. Then, Meruem finally rose from his throne. He walked across the room, eyes locked not on Pouf, not on anything. Just inward, as if standing on two cliffs at once. “She has found strength and clarity in humanity,” Meruem said. “And you say that makes her weak.”

Pouf didn’t respond.

The King turned toward him now, his expression unreadable. “But is it not weakness to reject growth? Even if it defies expectation?”

Pouf looked up, his breathing shallow. “Your Majesty…”

“I am not the same as I was,” the King said, with something akin to awe. “And I do not know yet if that is strength… or collapse.” He turned back toward the window, his silhouette fracturing by the dying light. “I will handle the matter with Pitou. Leave me,” he said. Not cruelly. Not even coldly.

Just… distantly.

Pouf did not move. He bowed again. But as he left, his eyes were wet.

And behind him, Meruem remained where he stood, trapped between two voices, two truths, and a thousand thoughts whirling through his head.

A thin veil of clouds dimmed the stars outside, yet still the throne room glowed. It wasn’t the torchlight; it was the weight of what shifted inside it.

Pitou entered in silence, her steps deliberate, almost hesitant. The air inside felt heavier than before. Meruem stood alone in the center of the chamber, his back to her, silhouetted against the vast doors that led to the gardens. No one else was present.

Just the King, and her.

“…You summoned me, my King,” she said, her voice calm, but her heart thundering in her chest like a typhoon. It had been abundantly clear to Pitou why she had been summoned.

He did not turn.

“Tell me,” he said. “If someone disobeys… but does so in pursuit of something they believe will protect what they love, are they a traitor?”

Pitou’s eyes widened slightly. “…That depends. On whether the love is true. And whether the disobedience was for themselves… or something greater.”

A pause.

“I see.”

Finally, he turned to face her. His eyes had changed. Pitou couldn’t sense any coldness, nor cruelty in them. They looked… distant. Like someone standing already a few steps beyond who they used to be. “I spoke with Pouf,” he said.

Pitou’s claws tensed. Her tail flicked low. “I assumed as much.”

“He told me what happened,” Meruem continued. “That you attacked him.”

“He threatened Komugi,” Pitou said quickly, the words laced with a rare desperation. “He said he should just kill her and be done with all of it. I reacted.”

“And yet,” Meruem said, stepping forward, “you used Terpsichora. Not to defend, but to strike him down.”

He was close now. Close enough for her to see the quiet weight in his expression. “I didn’t mean to kill him,” Pitou whispered. “But I would have. If he hadn't used one of his clones to confront me. I would have—”

“You would have killed one of your own,” Meruem finished. “A Royal Guard.” The word Guard hung like a judgment.

Pitou swallowed. Her voice cracked. “You’re changing. I see it. I feel it. And I… I’ve been trying to change with you. I wanted to serve you better. Not just with strength, but with understanding.”

He looked at her for a long time. And for a moment, there was no King in his gaze. Just… a boy. A soul unraveling, reforming. “That is why,” Meruem said softly, “this cannot be allowed.”

Pitou blinked. Then blinked again. “My King, what do you mean?” she whispered, sweat rolling down her cheeks. A stone formed in her gut.

“You broke the bond between us. In striking at Pouf, regardless of your reasons, you endangered the unity that protects what little we’ve built.”

She took a step forward, claws trembling. “I did it to protect you—”

“I know,” he said.

Her voice broke. “Then why—?”

“Because protecting me,” he said, his tone low and pained, “cannot come at the cost of destroying each other.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that doesn’t allow for words to fill it, only grief. “I must ask you to leave the palace,” he said, each syllable cutting like frost. “You are no longer to act as one of my Guards.”

The words hit her like a death sentence. She staggered slightly, claws twitching, trying to form a protest. “No… No, please, let me—let me prove I can still—”

“I know you can,” Meruem said quietly. He stepped closer and placed a hand—gently, and briefly—on her shoulder. “You still can.”

That subtle touch, that pause in his voice… It told Pitou everything. He wasn’t exiling her as punishment. He was freeing her. Freeing her to become what he couldn’t ask of her within these walls. Freeing her to continue down the path she had begun. Her breath trembled. “You mean…”

But he said nothing more.

And she knew.

He turned away again, standing beneath the high arch of the palace windows. His silhouette no longer gleamed with unshakable divinity. But it glowed with something else now, something heavier.

Something human.

“Go,” he said. “Before morning.”

Pitou stood there for a moment longer, trembling, but not broken. She bowed deeply. “For what it’s worth,” she whispered, “I still serve you.” She turned and left the throne room. And for the first time in her life, she walked away from her King…

…with purpose.

Pouf stood motionless in the quiet of the inner hall, wings folded tightly behind him. He hadn’t moved since Pitou’s footsteps faded from the corridor, not out of discipline, but out of disbelief.

“She’s gone,” Youpi muttered beside him, his voice low. “Exiled.”

Pouf’s golden eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the gloom. “No,” he whispered, as though saying it aloud might alter the truth. “Not exiled. Released.”

He turned sharply, his expression wild with restraint. “He let her go.”

Youpi shifted uneasily. “Isn’t that… good? She’s no longer—”

Pouf raised a hand to silence him, but it shook faintly at the fingers. “She raised her claws against me. Used her Nen without hesitation. With intent to kill.” He closed his eyes for a breath. “And the King, our King, looked at that… and understood her.”

He stepped forward into the torchlight, his voice trembling. “She should have been reduced to atoms for that betrayal and made an example. But instead… He spoke to her as if she were an equal. Like she deserved understanding.” The word felt like acid in his mouth.

Pouf’s face contorted in hurt, fury, and shame all at once. “She threw him completely off balance. No—she taught him to choose. And he—” He stopped himself. His wings bristled.

“He chose mercy.”

Youpi grunted. “You sound like you wanted her dead.”

Pouf stared at the stone beneath his feet. “No,” he said bitterly. “I wanted him to want her dead.” The silence that followed was suffocating.

“He spoke of unity,” Pouf murmured, pacing now. “Of protecting what we’ve built. But what is unity if it’s built on compromise? On sentiment?” He looked toward the throne room, where the King still sat in silence. “He’s falling like Pitou has fallen. Not from greatness, but from purity.” Pouf’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And I… I don’t know how to stop it anymore.”

His wings fell loosely at his sides now. The glow in his eyes dimmed, not from fatigue, but from something more insidious.

Doubt.

Not in Neferpitou.

Not in himself.

But in the King.

“I loved him as a god,” Pouf whispered. “And now I fear he’s becoming human.” He turned, strolling into the dark of the hallway. And for the first time since his birth…

…Shaiapouf didn’t know what to do.

The palace was quiet again, but not at peace. The silence was thick now, like dust after something heavy collapsed. Somewhere in East Gorteau, Pitou was walking away from Meruem. Not in chains, but because he had let her go.

Meruem sat across from Komugi, the Gungi board untouched between them. She sat patiently, her head tilted slightly, waiting for his next move. Her bandaged fingers rested lightly on her lap, courtesy of an eagle that had attacked her. An eagle that Meruem had disposed of swiftly without a second thought.

Just as Neferpitou had attacked Shaiapouf with every intent to dispose of him the moment he had threatened Komugi.

She smiled, though she could not see him. “You have not moved, Supreme Leader,” she said softly.

“No,” he replied. Meruem wished that he had a name, so she could stop calling him Supreme Leader.

Komugi paused. A gentle silence hung between them. “Is something troubling you?”

He let the question linger. There was no curiosity in her words, just concern. “I issued judgment today,” he said at last. “On one who has served me without fail since the moment she drew her first breath.”

Komugi’s face turned solemn. She knew he meant Neferpitou, but didn’t say that out loud. “Was she disloyal?” she asked eventually.

Meruem’s eyes lowered. “She… made a choice. Not out of selfishness or disloyalty. But from something… harder to understand.”

Another long silence.

Komugi tilted her head. “Did it hurt you?”

Meruem blinked. ‘’Hurt?’’ he thought. The word settled in like an echo, louder for how softly she had spoken it. He looked at his hands. “She struck another of my Royal Guard,” he said slowly. “She broke the harmony of my court. And yet… I could not call it betrayal.”

Komugi simply nodded, her presence grounded. She didn’t press. He found that she never needed to. “I exiled her,” he continued. “Not because I hated her. But because I had to make a decision.” He turned his gaze toward the open balcony, where the night air drifted in, thick with chill and dust.

“I am beginning to see that strength does not only lie in domination,” he murmured. “And that loyalty is not only measured in obedience.” He stared out at the horizon, where he imagined Pitou walking alone. “She believes she can serve me best by protecting the weak. That through humanity, there is power. I… have begun to see what she sees.”

He turned back toward Komugi. “Does that make me weak?”

Komugi smiled gently. “I do not know much about strength, Supreme Leader. Only that those who carry burdens for others… often suffer most quietly.”

Meruem’s hands curled into fists, uncertainty clear in his expression. “Every choice feels like a fracture,” he said. “Each step I take toward something greater tears me further from what I was born to be.”

Komugi tilted her face toward him. Her pale eyes, though blind, seemed to see straight through the storm he carried. “Maybe that’s what growing is,” she said. “Not becoming something else… but letting yourself break open so that you can evolve into something even greater.”

He stared at her in silence. She did not know how much her words meant to him. But tonight, they were the only thing keeping him from shattering. He moved his first piece on the Gungi board. “Soldier. Four-four-one.”

Komugi smiled and followed suit.

And the night, for all its heaviness, moved forward.

Chapter Text

Neferpitou sat perched in the upper boughs of an old birch tree, knees drawn to her chest, tail coiled loosely around the trunk like a lifeline. The area was thick with life, but it didn’t speak to her the way it once did.

The silence she once used as armor now felt too thin, too revealing. She remembered Meruem’s voice, not the final verdict, but the tone he’d used. It wasn’t rejection or scorn, but something more profound.

Pitou exhaled softly through her nose. He hadn’t banished her out of cruelty. He’d chosen a path that hurt him, too. That truth kept her from screaming to the heavens. “I still serve you,” she whispered. “Just… not at your side.”

Her ears twitched.

A scent.

The tang of blood. It smelled fresh, distinctively human. No, two scents. One sharp and metallic, the other muddier, saturated with adrenaline. Her tail uncoiled. The branch beneath her claws cracked with sudden pressure.

Someone approached death’s door.

Without a second thought, she leaped.

Ikalgo’s breath was shallow and ragged. He strained under the weight of Killua’s limp body, one arm dragging uselessly behind him, slick with drying blood. “Stay with me,” he whispered, almost chanting. “You’re not done yet. You’re not allowed to die here!”

He’d miscalculated. The hidden hospital was still too far. If Killua didn’t get treated soon—

A rustle brought him out of his stupor. His Chimera Ant instincts warned him of a presence fast approaching. “Shit, why now?”  Ikalgo thought through gritted teeth. His mind whirled a mile a minute. “If it’s Flutter or Hagya, I’ll just have to talk my way out of it,” he reasoned. Then, Ikalgo froze.

From the darkness, a figure dropped soundlessly onto the path ahead of him. She had a predator’s poise, with twitching ears, slit pupils glinting red, and limbs hanging loosely at her side. “You gotta be—This can’t—!” Ikalgo’s mind screamed at him.

In front of him stood Neferpitou, one of the three Royal Guards and the last person Ikalgo wanted to see at the moment. Time seemed to stop. Ikalgo’s heart slammed against his chest like a hammer.

“Out late,” Pitou said softly, tilting her head. “You smell like blood.” Her eyes betrayed nothing. “I can still feel a faint pulse,” she thought. “I’ll have to pretend that I want to finish him off, so he’ll hand the body over to me. Then, I can save him.”

Ikalgo didn’t move. He shifted slightly, trying to cover more of Killua’s body with his own. His brain screamed at him. “Think! Now! Lie to her!”

“Just disposing of a corpse,” he croaked, voice thin. “Human trash. I’m getting rid of it before it rots.”

Pitou’s eyes flicked over him, then to the bloodied figure cradled in his grasp. Her smile widened eerily. “Funny,” she said, taking a slow step forward. “Because he’s actually not dead yet.”

Ikalgo gritted his teeth. “He’s dying, as you can see. Just tying up loose ends here.”

Pitou took another step. The air thickened. “I can finish the job for you,” she said sweetly. “Save you the trouble.”

“No need,” Ikalgo said quickly, holding his ground. “I have orders. Disposal protocol, I’m just following it.”

Pitou crouched now. “Is he afraid I’m taking away his glory if I kill him off?” she thought. “Who gave you the orders and what unit are you from?” she asked lazily. “Because I don’t remember you.”

Ikalgo blinked. “Shit, what do I say now?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Who are you again? I generally do not obey other Squadron Leaders.”

Pitou’s smile thinned. “I’m Neferpitou, one of the three Royal Guards of the King. I outclass every Squadron Leader. Now hand over that human to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ikalgo fought to keep his tentacles from shaking. “If you’re truly one of the Royal Guards,” he asked cautiously, “what are you doing out here all alone… Shouldn’t you be with the King?”

For a moment, Pitou didn’t answer. A flicker of something shadowed her expression. “I go where I’m needed,” she said flatly. The silence that followed was brittle. “Now, why not let me take him off of you?” she asked. “Make sure your trash stays asleep permanently.”

Ikalgo clutched Killua tighter. “I’ll handle it.”

Pitou cocked her head in confusion. “What is he—?” She took another step forward. “You’re… shaking.”

“I said I’ve got it!”

Ikalgo’s sudden outburst shifted something in Pitou’s eyes. She saw it now, Ikalgo’s intent. The way he positioned himself protectively. The quiver of desperation in his voice. Concern laced his lies. She stood straighter—gentler. “You’re… trying to save him,” she whispered finally.

Ikalgo flinched, caught in the open. He didn’t speak. “What can I even say to her now? She’ll blitz me before I can form a coherent thought.”

In that moment, Pitou saw how Ikalgo’s eyes reflected the ones in Kite. “A Chimera Ant with humanity… Just like the King… Just like me.” Pitou eyed the human Ikalgo carried now, and drew in a sharp breath when she realized. “He’s one of the boys who accompanied Kite.” Neferpitou dropped to her knees and laid her claws bare for Ikalgo to see.

“Please, I see that he’s dying. I can help,” she whispered. 

Ikalgo’s body froze, and his breath hitched. “What the—Her attitude suddenly turned around completely when she called my bluff. But why—is it a trap?” Ikalgo grunted. “How can you help him? Did you not want to try to take Killua from me so you could finish him off?” 

“I was bluffing,” Pitou murmured. “I did not know you had switched sides. But I can see it in your eyes, how much he means to you.” Another silence hung in the air. “I have a Nen healing ability. Let me help Killua, please.”

Ikalgo stared at her. He knew she wasn’t lying; he felt it. “I don’t understand. Has she gone rogue?” He grumbled and looked at Killua, who looked paler with the second. “Do I have much choice?” 

Pitou noticed his hesitation and bowed deeply. “Let me fix him,” she said. “I couldn’t save someone precious to him. But maybe I can save him.”

“She… She submitted herself to me. A Royal Guard of her stature!” Ikalgo thought, not believing what he saw. Yet he could not find any deceit in her. Ikalgo knew if she so desired, she could have taken Killua from him by force with just five percent of her power. But she hadn’t, and that fact alone made him ease up just a bit. “Neferpitou…” Ikalgo mumbled, slowly letting go of Killua and handing him to her. “Killua’s life is in your claws.”

The shelter Ikalgo and Pitou found was only a collapsed ruin draped in salvaged fabric, a makeshift refuge tucked in the dense woods. Inside, warmth was shallow, and the silence thick. Wind rustled through the boards above, letting moonlight streak across cracked tile.

Pitou sat still, her claws on her knees. Doctor Blythe hovered beside her, long arms moving with eerie grace as it continued stitching the deep wounds across Killua’s abdomen. She barely breathed. She hadn’t moved in hours. Not since she started.

A few feet away, Ikalgo paced. His tiny squid arms trembled despite himself, and he kept glancing between Killua, laid out on the floor, and the Chimera Ant he’d once believed to be the devil incarnate.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off Pitou the whole time, yet she made it abundantly clear she really wanted to save Killua’s life. “Something big must have happened in the palace. Something so grandiose that Neferpitou chose this path. That, or I must be hallucinating,” Ikalgo thought.

Then Killua stirred. It was a breath, only that—a flutter in the brow. Ikalgo stopped moving immediately.

Pitou turned toward Killua slowly with gentle concern. Killua’s fingers twitched.

“Killua—!” Ikalgo dropped to one knee, panic and hope crossing his face all at once.

Killua’s eyelids cracked open, then shut again, as if the light itself burned. He forced them open again. The blurred shape of Ikalgo hovered above him first. “…Ikal…go?” he rasped.

“I’m here,” Ikalgo whispered, leaning in closer, gripping his friend’s shoulder gently. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Killua blinked hard. Then his gaze shifted… and landed on her.

Neferpitou.

Every muscle in his body seized. His eyes widened.

Pitou didn’t move.

Killua’s breathing quickened. His voice rasped out in something like a snarl. “You—!”

Ikalgo put a squishy hand to his chest quickly. “Wait! Wait—Killua—don’t—!”

“She—she’s—” He tried to sit up. Pain shot through him, turning his face ghostly white.

“You can’t move yet,” Pitou said. Her voice was low and steady, immediately betraying the gentle undertones in it. “You’ll tear the sutures.”

“Why—why the hell are you—” Killua coughed. The words collapsed halfway through.

“Here?” Pitou said. “I came across you and Ikalgo by accident. You were dying of blood loss, so… I offered to help and heal you.”

Killua’s eyes locked with hers, wild and unbelieving. “Liar,” he said, unable to even comprehend a scenario where Neferpitou would willingly heal him. “You’re… You’re probably doing something to turn me into a Chimera Ant!”

“She’s not,” Ikalgo said quickly, nervously. “I—she… I think she really is healing you.”

Killua turned to his newfound friend. “…What?”

“I didn’t want to believe it either,” Ikalgo muttered. “But I couldn’t get you to safety. And she stopped me. I thought she was going to finish you off. But she didn’t. She—she asked to help.”

“I would’ve saved Killua even if you didn’t allow me to,” Pitou interjected softly. “I couldn’t let him die.”

Ikalgo blinked, stunned. “Right.”

Killua stared at the two of them as if they had each grown an extra head. “Ikalgo, she’s… She’s a Royal Guard,” he said. “She killed—” Killua paused as images of a devastated Gon stormed through his brain, and then let his sentence die away.

Pitou’s head lowered instinctively, and her ears flattened against her skull. She said nothing, just wordlessly continued to stitch Killua’s wounds.

“I know,” Ikalgo said. “Believe me, I’m as confused as you are. But she… didn’t attack me. She hasn’t attacked you.”

Killua looked back at Pitou. His breath was uneven. “Why?”

“I sensed someone was dying,” she said, her voice calm but distant. “I didn’t know it was you until I saw your face.”

Killua’s jaw clenched. “So, you changed? And now you thought you’d what—make things right?”

Pitou tilted her head, almost like a cat studying a sound. “No, I can’t make it right. But maybe I can choose to do the right thing.”

Killua stared. Ikalgo watched the two of them like a man standing in a minefield.

“I’m not letting my guard down around you,” he muttered.

“You shouldn’t,” Pitou said. “You’re right to be wary.”

Killua shifted again. The pain flared. He groaned. His fingers clenched into fists. “How long?” he murmured.

“An hour or two more,” Pitou replied. “Doctor Blythe works with precision.”

Killua exhaled shakily and sank back, jaw twitching. “So, I’m stuck with you for another two hours, then.”

“I’m sorry if this is not what you want, but you’re still unstable. I need at least an hour more to make sure you’ll recover, two to heal you fully,” Pitou explained softly.

Ikalgo looked from Killua to Pitou and back again, utterly baffled. “This is… insane,” he said. “I don’t even know whose side anyone is on anymore.”

“I’m not on a side,” Pitou said quietly.

Killua gave a faint, bitter chuckle. “That’s rich, coming from a Royal Guard.”

“I was,” Pitou said. “But I’m not a Royal Guard anymore.”

Ikalgo blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means I was exiled,” she answered, without emotion. “For disobedience.”

Ikalgo’s face twisted in surprise. Killua just frowned.

“You disobeyed Meruem?” he asked, the name of the King slipping past his teeth before he realized it.

Pitou’s eyes widened just slightly at the mention of the King’s name, before they became neutral again. “The King’s name… is Meruem.” She thought. “Yes,” Pitou said. “Because I chose to protect a human. Just like now.”

Neither Killua nor Ikalgo responded. The room fell silent again. The only sounds were the quiet noises Doctor Blythe made as it continued to heal Killua.

Killua closed his eyes again for a long moment, trying to make sense of everything inside him—pain, fury, doubt. The lines between enemy and ally were too blurred now. Everything she was should have made him hate her more. But he didn’t.

He hated that he didn’t.

“…Why me?” he asked again, eyes still closed.

Pitou didn’t answer immediately. “Because you matter to someone,” she said finally. “And because that’s what I want to protect now.”

Killua cracked an eye open and looked at her. “And if I told you I still want to kill you after you’ve healed me?”

Pitou met his gaze, unwavering. “You’re free to hit me. You won’t be able to kill me in your current state, but I wouldn’t fight back. If this makes you feel better, then I’ll allow it.”

Ikalgo’s brow furrowed in disbelief.

Killua’s voice dropped, low and bitter. “I don’t get you.”

“You don’t have to,” Pitou said. “I don’t get myself yet either.”

Killua snorted softly, eyes falling shut again. “Figures.”

“I know that you’re wary of me, but you should rest,” Pitou offered, not unkindly. “I can’t use my Nen when using Doctor Blythe, and if I wanted you dead or altered, I would’ve taken you with force from Ikalgo long ago.”

Killua hated that she was right. He wanted to call her out on a lie. A bluff she made. But everything she did felt genuine, because it was. He grumbled, his old assassin instincts telling him to stay awake. “Well, no matter. Even if I stay awake, she could kill me and Ikalgo in a heartbeat.”

Slowly, Killua dozed off until he fell into a comfortable sleep. A faint smile stretched across Pitou’s face. “He doesn’t trust me… and he doesn’t have to. I wouldn’t trust me in this state either.” 

Ikalgo and Pitou sat in silence while Killua slept. The wind scraped faintly at the broken windows. It wasn’t loud, just enough to remind Pitou how far she was from the palace, from anything remotely familiar. “I still serve the King… Meruem. But not how I once would have done,” she thought.

An hour later, Killua stirred. His breath came unevenly, his brow twitching with the echo of pain. Then his eyes, bleary and half-lidded, opened. A low glow radiated from above his chest. It pulsed faintly, like the heartbeat of something alive but faint. A pair of claws hovered over him, steady and restrained. The aura that surrounded them was unmistakable: warm, rich, and wild. His mind had to whirl to life for a moment to realize who it belonged to.

Neferpitou.

For a long moment, he said nothing. “She’s still healing me,” he thought. Killua swallowed. His throat was raw. “…You’re still here.” The words barely scratched the air, but they were enough to make Pitou look at him. Her claws didn’t falter.

Her voice was quiet, almost cautious. “You’re not stable yet. I need more time than I thought. Your wounds were deep, very deep.”

Killua shifted, only slightly. Even that movement sent a dull ache through his ribs and up into his shoulder. He winced and let out a long breath. “I still can’t believe you’re healing me,” he murmured, observing her. “You’ve been going at it for nearly three hours now.”

“And I would sit here for another three hours—or however long it takes—to heal you,” Pitou admitted after a pause. “I’m not stopping until I have all of your wounds sealed, even if you decide to attack me before that.”

Killua let that hang for a moment. His eyes flicked to her expression, trying to read it. Then he looked past her to the far side of the room. Ikalgo rested against the wall, chin tucked into his chest. His breathing was soft. He’d fallen asleep. Killua blinked slowly, then looked back at Pitou. “I guess I should be surprised I’m alive.”

The faintest of smiles appeared on her face. “I guess I should be surprised; I wanted to make sure of that,” she replied, her voice as gentle as a breeze.

Killua closed his eyes for a moment to think. After a while, he cracked them open again. “You knew who I was. From back in NGL. I saw how you reacted when I was about to mention Kite.”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.

“Did you know I was with the Extermination Team?”

”The Extermination Team? So, they’re really set on killing us all off,” Pitou thought. She nodded her head to Killua. “I guessed that you were. Your Nen feels familiar. You must’ve taken down some of my Puppet Soldiers before.”

Killua stared at the broken ceiling for a while, trying to make sense of it all. Eventually, he spoke again. “So why help me? You could’ve let me bleed out. You could’ve killed Ikalgo and blamed it on him. No one would’ve known.”

Pitou didn’t speak at first. Her fingers tensed slightly as if caught in a thought. She looked down at her claws above his wounds. “I didn’t want you to die,” she said finally.

“You didn’t want me to die?” Killua muttered. It felt so alien coming out of Neferpitou’s mouth that he couldn’t help but reiterate what she had said.

Pitou exhaled slowly. Her voice dropped, softer now. “I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Killua narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing. He didn’t need to ask. He knew who she meant. “…Kite.”

Pitou’s expression flickered, just briefly, with something like grief. She didn’t deny it. “I didn’t understand then,” she said quietly. “What it meant. What I’d taken.”

There was silence between them. Killua didn’t interrupt her. He wanted her to speak. To keep going.

“Back then,” Pitou continued, her voice no longer smooth or controlled, “I only knew what I was made to do. To serve. To kill. To protect and serve the King. But now…” She didn’t finish.

Killua looked at her, studying her. Her ears hung low ever so slightly, her tail lying still against the floor. He spoke, voice low and probing. “You said ‘back then’ as in the past. Do you not serve Meruem anymore?”

Pitou’s eyes flicked toward him, surprised. She hadn’t realized what she had let slip. “…I still serve him,” she said slowly. “But not how I did before.”

Killua observed her. “And healing me… is serving him?”

After a pause, she nodded resolutely.

“I see,” he murmured.

His fingers twitched slightly. The pain remained, but it was no longer unbearable. He felt his pulse getting steadier. Killua turned his head slightly, watching her more openly now. “What is he like? The King.”

Pitou hesitated. Her claws faltered just a little before she steadied them again. She could’ve said anything: how powerful he is, or his overwhelming brilliance. But instead, she gave the first word that rose to the surface.

“Changing.”

Killua’s brow creased faintly. “Changing how?”

Pitou didn’t speak for a while. Her eyes lowered in recollection. “He started asking questions. About fairness. About life. About purpose.”

Killua hummed quietly. “Because of you?”

“Partially. But mostly Komugi,” Pitou said, and this time there was a distinct softness in her voice.

Killua tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling again. “Komugi, huh? Is she the unknown variable my mind has been wary about?” Killua looked at Pitou’s gentle expression. “Or is it Neferpitou who’s taking care of me as if I’m her own kid?”

Pitou hummed. “You probably want to know who Komugi is. That is fine. She’s… the reigning champion in Gungi. A blind human girl, at that. But she’s changing the King—Meruem, just as she’s been changing me.”

Killua let out a faint breath. “Because Meruem can’t win at Gungi against her,” Killua realized.

Pitou nodded her head. “Yes. He’s realizing there’s more to strength than pure power. Something I’ve come to realize when I experienced Kite protecting you and that other boy.”

“Gon. His name is Gon,” Killua said softly. “Gon Freecss.”

“Gon Freecss,” Pitou said again. “I’ll be sure to remember that name.”

Killua hesitated. “He’s… He’s really devastated about what happened… About what you did to Kite.”

Neferpitou dropped her head so low her forehead almost touched the ground. “I took something precious away from him. Something that can never be replaced. It is… something that I regret, deeply.” Pitou said nothing for a while. “He wants to kill me for it?”

“Yes,” Killua admitted. “His every waking thought is filled with that.”

“I do not deserve his forgiveness. I am not asking for it either,” Pitou whispered. “If he chooses to get his revenge on me, I won’t fight back. Will you tell him this?”

Killua gasped, his body tensing. “She’s really not joking. Is this the same Neferpitou I met back in NGL?” Killua turned away. “Even if it kills you?”

“Yes,” Pitou said immediately.

“How will you serve and protect your King when you’re willingly letting yourself be killed?”

“I am serving him,” Pitou stated, raising her head to look Killua in his eyes, “by showing humility, by protecting the weak. You know I could kill the entire Extermination Team in a single afternoon if I wanted, but that doesn’t show strength. It just shows weakness. Meruem is changing into a benevolent King—someone who protects life. I want to do the same. If I get killed for it, won’t that show my unwavering loyalty?”

For the first time, Killua didn’t know what to say. “She’s… She’s really serious about this. She almost sounds… human.” Then, Killua nodded his head faintly. “All right, I will tell Gon.” He let a silence linger before humming in thought. “What about the other guards?”

“You mean Pouf and Youpi? What about them?” Neferpitou asked.

“Did they notice the change? In you—and the king?”

“Pouf saw my change before I even realized what was happening,” Pitou said. “He’s very observant and thinks any change in Meruem and I is weakness. We… clashed a lot. Then, yesterday, he threatened Komugi. I… snapped and reacted.”

“You tried to kill him,” Killua said. His eyes widened like saucers. “No way, a Royal Guard… who willingly tried to take down another Royal Guard.”

“Yes,” Pitou said, nodding her head. “Meruem exiled me because of that. The old Meruem would have killed me without a single thought. But now… He has changed—like I have.” Pitou stayed silent for a breath, then continued. “He wants me to continue to grow, as do I.” She gestured to Doctor Blythe. “Hence why I’m healing you.”

“You—you view letting me die as a regression back into your old self,” Killua said with realization. “You really believe this serves Meruem?”

“It does serve Meruem. It shows he’s not a King of pure strength, but a King who cares. A King… with humanity.” Pitou looked at Killua with gentle care. “He’s realizing what I came to realize not too long ago. Humanity… is worth protecting.”

A faint grin of amusement spread on Killua’s face. “So… Now you’re on our team, then?”

Pitou blinked. “I never said that I was. I’m still loyal to Meruem, and I always will be. It just means I won’t oppose you or the Extermination Team directly. At least not if Meruem doesn’t give me the order.”

“And if he does order you to kill us?” Killua challenged her.

“Then I will, but not before telling him that I disagree with it. Killing you, or anyone on the Extermination Team, would make me and Meruem less than what we are now,” Pitou said.

“Then you’re not going to stop us?” Killua asked.

“I am not. I have no intention to fight,” Pitou replied honestly. “But it doesn’t mean I am going to sit still either. I want Meruem to live and keep growing.”

A silence followed between them. “I understand now. Neferpitou is neither friend nor foe. She doesn’t serve the old Meruem anymore but remains loyal to a changing Meruem who resembles something more human. Moreover, she views protecting humanity as an evolution, and she wants to devote her loyalty to that cause, in turn elevating Meruem’s greatness.” Killua hummed.

“I see now why Pouf loathes the change in you, Pitou,” Killua whispered, “only a human would be so fanatic that they’d go against their very nature to reach a strength that makes them whole.”

Pitou lowered her ears cutely, and a small smile stretched on her features. “I do not view myself as going against my nature. Merely evolving alongside it. But… It does feel nice being compared to a human…”

For the first time, the faintest of smiles curled Killua’s lips upward. “What about Youpi, then?”

“He’s… Youpi. Very loyal, open to the King’s change, so long as he can serve. He doesn’t question much, if anything,” Pitou said. “You shouldn’t be too wary of him. Pouf is another story.”

A single nod, then Killua stayed silent. He just watched Doctor Blythe doing its thing. “This is all so surreal,” he thought. “Hey, Pitou?” he asked, eventually. “If you’re not with us, nor against us, why are you sharing this information with me? Wouldn’t this put the King in jeopardy?”

A thoughtful hum escaped Pitou’s mouth. “Maybe, maybe not. The truth is that Shaiapouf is way more dangerous to the King than anyone on the Extermination Team,” Pitou revealed.

That made Killua think. “Even more than Netero? I really can’t believe that.” He looked at Pitou with a questioning glance, who merely closed her eyes.

“Komugi,” she said.

“Of course!” Killua thought. “Pouf wants to get rid of her! Which means… He’s Meruem’s greatest threat, not us.” Killua looked at Pitou with realization in his eyes. “But Pouf would never outright kill her.”

“No, but he’s clever. He’ll find a way. Anything to realize his delusional idea that Meruem needs to be ‘unshaken.’ He already got rid of me, even though he would have much rather wanted to see me dead. He’ll get rid of Komugi, too,” Pitou said. “But I won’t let that happen.”

“You’re sharing this information in the hope that we can get the upper hand on Pouf. Yet, you’re not revealing so much as to give us a completely free pass to Meruem.”

The grin that stretched on Neferpitou’s face felt oddly wholesome to Killua. “I still serve the King. If Shaiapouf wants to play mind games, I’ll use my newfound humanity to do the same and save Komugi in the process.”

An amused chuckle escaped Killua. “Are you really sure that you’re a Chimera Ant and not a human?”

Pitou twitched her ears. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore,” she said. “But what I do know is that I’ll keep protecting humanity.” She looked up in the distance in a melancholic way. “It is what Meruem would want.”

Contentment filled Killua’s mind. “I am certain now, Neferpitou” he thought.“You’ve changed. Gon might never forgive you for what you did to Kite. He’ll definitely try to kill you for it…” He paused as she precariously continued to stitch him up. “But when that happens, I’ll be sure to step in… and return the favor you’ve shown me today.”