Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With his back pressed into the mattress and his eyes closed, Illumi sorted through his mental checklist one last time.

Suitcases packed with essentials—check. He needed to inspect Hisoka’s bag to make sure everything he chose was presentable.

Mmm.

Gifts—adequate and wrapped. Stopping to buy those crystal figurines Mother adores might be a wise addition.

Matilda was packed and tucked between his clothes.

Ahh.

Plants watered, windows secured, all appliances switched off.

Documents and the report from yesterday’s assignments all in order.

Ohh.

Shoes! He had almost forgotten about the shoes.

“Should I go with the blue tie, or is the black one more classy?” Hisoka’s voice floated into the room.

Illumi's eyes fluttered open and fixed on the magician standing frozen in the doorway, a tie in each hand.

Hisoka’s smirk widened as he took in the scene before him—Illumi, naked, legs invitingly bent and parted, two fingers inserted into his entrance. "Neither," Illumi replied, resuming his rhythm. "The green one we chose together—it complements my suit."

"Preparing so thoroughly, I see. Need any help?" Hisoka chuckled, dropping the ties onto a nearby chair and joining Illumi on the bed. 

“Hmm, yes.”

Hisoka's hand enveloped Illumi's, guiding his movements with a warm, steady touch. Illumi relaxed into the sensation, allowing his partner to set the pace and pressure.

For the first time that day, his mind stilled. He immersed himself in the pleasure blooming from deep within, one that promised to reach even the most hidden recesses of his being. Before long, Hisoka encouraged another finger to join the others, drawing a deep shudder from Illumi. 

"Enjoy this," Illumi breathed out, half to Hisoka, half to himself. "We won't have any of this while at my family's."

“You and your harsh love,” Hisoka said as his free hand trailed down Illumi’s chest and hips. "How do you expect me to resist when everything I want will be so close, yet so out of reach?”

“Resisting builds character,” Illumi replied with a mock sternness. “And it’s non-negotiable. Absolutely. No. Sex.”

A perfectly manicured hand wrapped around Illumi’s semi-hard dick. Illumi sighed. Hisoka's voice went low, sultry. "Not even a stealthy handjob under the table while I entertain your family with one of my stories?" 

“Hisok—ah!” Illumi’s protest was swallowed along with his cock.

His fiancé expertly took him in, lips and tongue working in sync to bring him to full hardness within moments. He moved up and down, swirling and teasing, swallowing him to the very base. Illumi resisted the urge to close his eyes, focusing instead on the rhythmic sway of Hisoka's red hair, each strand flicking like a tongue of fire.

Hisoka released him with a slick pop. 

The magician's breath brushed against Illumi's skin, warming the path up to his lips. These parted slightly, just as Hisoka guided Illumi's fingers out. 

Hisoka's gaze held him, and in that instant, Illumi wondered if they would ever grow tired of this, of each other.

The certainty of forever eluded him, but the intensity of now was undeniable. He wanted him. Maybe even more than at the beginning.

The look in Hisoka’s eyes mirrored his feeling.

“Please refrain from coming inside, I just washed.” 

“My future husband, so romantic. Aren’t I the luckiest guy?” 

"You are. You were lucky since the first time I agreed to go to dinner with you,” Illumi replied, his smile broadening as Hisoka’s lips met his—warm and soft.

Illumi opened to him, but Hisoka didn't yield to the invitation just yet. He teased the corner of Illumi’s mouth, licked, nibbled, and then brushed his lips against his. When his tongue slipped in, it was languid at first, then gradually deepened in its hunger until he sucked on the tip of Illumi’s tongue, just as he knew would drive him wild. 

With a firm push, Illumi widened the space between them, only to extend his foot and teasingly stroke Hisoka’s hardness, spreading the precum along its length.

“Don’t make me wait.”

Hisoka needed no further prompting. He turned Illumi onto his stomach, pulling him to the edge of the bed. Illumi positioned himself—forearms pressed against the mattress and feet anchored on the tiles.

Glancing back, he watched as Hisoka shed his clothing, exposing the hard-on sparked by his earlier ministrations. It was still a thrill for Illumi to know how much Hisoka was turned on just by giving him pleasure.

Hisoka grabbed a bottle of lube from the bed and drizzled some onto his cock. He aligned himself at Illumi's entrance and—slowly—pushed in until he was fully inside.

Illumi closed his eyes at the sensation, and Hisoka halted, giving him time to adjust to the stretch. The pause was brief. After a few heartbeats, Illumi's hips began to rock, urging Hisoka to move.

Hisoka established a rhythm with long, deep thrusts, pulling back until only the tip remained inside before plunging deeply again, allowing Illumi to savor him fully with each motion. Every so often, he would withdraw completely, only to glide and press his dick between Illumi's cheeks, then re-enter where Illumi needed him the most.

"You’re stunning," Hisoka tightened his grip on Illumi’s hips as he quickened the pace. His words were stripped of any tease, laden with an earnestness reserved only for his ears. Only for moments like this. "My husband. My future husband," he breathed out, his voice nearly drowned by the crescendo of their bodies—the clash of skin, mixed with gasps, moans, and the urgent call of their names.

Pleasure surged through Illumi like electricity. He shuddered and clutched the bed linen tightly.

Hisoka’s thrusts grew erratic, signaling he was close. In sync, the assassin reached down to stroke his own cock, matching Hisoka’s desperate pace. Illumi's body tensed and pulsed and the world around him started to blur.

He came first, his cum spilling over the tiles.

Hisoka continued, his movements still fervent above him. He pulled out and began to stroke himself urgently, sweeping Illumi’s hair aside to reveal more of his alabaster skin.

Before Illumi could react, shot after shot of Hisoka’s hot cum splashed across his back.

"HISOKA!"

His muscles tensed, coiled tight, ready to spring.

But a hand pressed against his spine, and Hisoka murmured, “Wait. Let me take care of this." His tongue darted where the heat of his release persisted and began tracing its trails. Thoroughly.

The gentle ministrations of Hisoka’s mouth eased his tension. Though he would never admit it aloud, there was a satisfying quality to Hisoka’s meticulous attention—something akin to worship. One of the magician’s hands gripped Illumi’s hips, holding him steady, while the other wandered lower, caressing him in a way that was more soothing than igniting. Hisoka's touch seemed to be everywhere—across his chest, down his thighs, up to his neck.

As Hisoka transitioned from licking to planting kisses up his spine, Illumi pushed himself up.

“I need a shower,” he stated, his tone laced with a pointed reminder of the reason.

“Hmm,” Hisoka murmured, extending a hand only to have it swatted away like a fly. “But I cleaned you so nicely.”

“It’s unsanitary,” Illumi retorted and strode toward the bathroom. 

“Make sure you clean the tiles,” Illumi called over his shoulder. “And go to bed after you’re done. We need to leave early.” He stopped at the bathroom door and added, a bit wickedly, “And in the meantime, I’ll consider if I still want you as my husband.”

“You know, Illu,” Hisoka said, lounging casually on the bed's edge, hands propped beside him, “I did as you wished—I didn’t come inside.”

The bathroom door closed behind with a shut.

~~~

Outside, dawn whispered its arrival, painting the sky with ribbons of coral and gold. 

Inside, darkness prevailed except for the dashboard’s green glow, lighting Illumi’s features. His hands were steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The engine purred softly, a background to their conversation, or mostly, Illumi’s monologue.

Hisoka shifted in his seat for a better view of his partner. The slight furrow in his brow, the rigid set of his shoulders, the white-knuckled grip on the wheel—it was rare to see Illumi this tense.

The unease seemed contagious—especially with their destination looming in Hisoka's mind.

Yes, the invitation was flattering, but the prospect of spending almost a week under the Zoldycks' scrutinizing gaze was hardly enticing. Of course, this could have been fun, but sadly, he had committed to his best behavior, promising no mischief.

Still, a part of him vibrated with anticipation at the thought of venturing into Illumi’s past. The chance to explore the halls that had shaped him, sneak a peek into his room, and perhaps, if lucky, discover childhood photos of his darling, was appealing.

Their latest session of 'Zoldyck Trivia' had just wrapped up. Illumi had methodically outlined the family's dos and don'ts, peppering the session with sharp, probing questions. Hisoka now knew all the family’s preferences by heart—details he would consider utter trash if they weren’t so crucial to his beloved.

"I think that's everything. You’re as prepared as you’ll ever be." 

"Fingers crossed," Hisoka replied, trying to inject a note of levity into the heavy air. "I would prefer to avoid dungeons for overnight stays."

Illumi’s response came after a pause, his lips pressing into a thin line. “My family is highly honorable. They would never consider such a thing. I’m sure the accommodations will be more than adequate." His tone cooled noticeably.

"That was a joke." 

“Ah,” Illumi said, shifting slightly.

Hisoka reached over, brushing his hand against Illumi’s knee. “Ideally, I’d be sleeping with you, but since that’s off the table, a guest room will do.” Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining. “I'll make the effort, Illumi. You have my word." 

“I appreciate that,” Illumi responded, his voice warming. “Once they see us together, they’ll realize it's a good fit. That you’re a suitable match." 

The word 'suitable' stirred within Hisoka—a restless bird in his ribcage, a feeling he would once have ignored until it grew monstrous.

He chose to address it directly.

“Just suitable?”

"The best match, without a doubt," Illumi said, glancing at him. "And soon, you will be family." 

"Family," Hisoka repeated, rolling the word around his tongue, tasting its complexity—a flavor he wasn’t sure whether to savor or spit out.

"I’ll have a task for you once the family meeting is over," Illumi said, shifting topics. "I’ve chosen a place for us to get married."

“Oh?” Hisoka arched an eyebrow, his heart quickening. He had given Illumi free rein over the wedding plans, thrilled by his enthusiasm, but... “I didn’t realize you had already started looking.”

“Obviously. I began as soon as we returned from Luluhona.”

A tingling sensation spread through Hisoka’s fingertips, a nervous energy he couldn’t quite contain. He tightened his grip on Illumi's hand and brushed a stray hair from his face to see him better. A rare, happy childhood memory emerged—the exhilaration of stepping into a hot air balloon for the first time, his stomach fluttering as they lifted into the sky, the earth receding to reveal new horizons. He felt as alive now as he did back then.

"There's this stunning monastery in the mountains," Illumi continued, his eyes lighting up. "It’s famed for a prophecy—that couples who marry there are believed to have their fates forever intertwined, thanks to a special knot-tying ritual."

"That does sound enchanting. But places like that tend to have endless waiting lists—we might be looking at years."

"I’m aware," Illumi replied, his tone firm. "But I know you can be very persuasive when you choose to be, and this—I want this to be perfect."

Hisoka chuckled. Charming monks into bending rules wasn’t typically his idea of fun, but the earnestness in Illumi's eyes was enough to stoke the fires of his determination.

"Leave it to me. If it's perfection you seek, then it’s perfection we'll have. Legends, prophecies, and all."

Illumi looked at him. 

A slow, warm smile spread across his face, like the sunrise, now bathing the car in golden light.

~~~

Some time later, Illumi parked on a charming street lined with narrow houses, each boasting flower-laden balconies and high-end boutiques.

It was their fourth stop, each 'just a quick one,' which, in Illumi's terms, turned out to mean around 30 minutes. Despite the extra time taken, Hisoka started to wonder if they would still make it to their airship on time—not that a delay would be unwelcome.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Illumi said, unclasping his seatbelt. His gaze swept the street, settling on a delicacy shop nestled between a florist and a chic café. “I need to pick something up.”

“What are you getting this time?” Hisoka asked, managing to keep his tone neutral, though he was itching to emphasize the word 'this.'

“A gift basket,” Illumi replied. “For you, to present when we arrive. It might help with making a favorable impression.”

That was… actually a sweet thought. It soothed the impulsive brat within him—the one that didn’t get coffee this morning and was tempted to make it everyone’s problem. “Strategically thoughtful. I appreciate it,” he said, leaning in for a quick, chaste kiss.

He watched as Illumi stepped out of the car and made his way to the shop.

Feeling the need to stretch his legs, Hisoka followed suit and emerged into the fresh air, rich with the scent of blooms from the florist shop straight ahead. His gaze wandered toward the little café on the left. The prospect of grabbing some coffee was tempting, and he began to calculate whether he could get a cup to go in time, despite the line at the counter.

Before he could make up his mind, an overwhelming sensation washed over him, making his heart skip a beat. 

It was an aura—one of the most powerful he had ever felt, directed straight at him.

Hisoka turned his gaze upward and spotted a vague silhouette on the rooftop. He tried to shield his eyes for a better view, but the sun blinded him.

He enveloped himself in En and prepared for battle.

Just then, the figure leapt from the roof and landed gracefully on the balcony of the flower shop.

With a clearer view, he immediately recognized the man from Illumi's family photos. A chill ran down Hisoka’s spine. It was Zeno Zoldyck.

The elder Zoldyck was dressed in white and purple attire, his silver hair shimmered in the morning light, and his piercing gaze seemed to penetrate to Hisoka's very core.

“Hello, Mr. Zoldyck.” Hisoka straightened up with a grin. "I was expecting to meet with you soon, but not as soon as this.”

"I've been keeping an eye on you, Hisoka,” Zeno said, crossing his arms. “I needed to see who my grandson chose. A man learns much from watching.”

Hisoka’s eyes widened. Had he been followed? For how long? Even with full Gyo, there was no one who could completely evade his senses—or so he had thought. The man was undoubtedly a nen genius.

If the rest of the Zoldycks shared even a fraction of his power, he would face a monstrous challenge to maintain his restraint.

Zeno's lips twitched into a knowing smile, and suddenly Hisoka wondered if he could read minds too. "You seem fond of trouble. Stirring up fights. I bet you’re thinking about confronting me right now.”   

"Regrettably, I promised Illumi to steer clear of such entertainment." Hisoka resisted the urge to lick his lips. “Though, self-defense is always an option.” 

"Bah." Zeno dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. "I’ve been close to Illumi since he was young, often more of a parent to him than his own. I know the boy, and I suspected what was going on from the start. It’s been interesting watching him change—more smiles, less work. Seems he's got himself a life."

"It was high time he did," Hisoka said. His bitter suspicions urged to be voiced, but implying to the Zoldyck patriarch that it was the family's fault Illumi had been antisocial to begin with would certainly not qualify as his 'best behavior,' so he kept them to himself.

"His mother knows too, now," Zeno continued. "She’s hardly pleased. The boy has been away increasingly, missed New Year’s Eve... and the engagement news? I had to leave the house for a week."

“She sounds like a fierce lady,” Hisoka remarked, not exactly the sweet mama Illumi had described.

"Strong-willed," Zeno admitted. “And now her eyes are on you. Be careful, Hisoka. She and you are cut from the same cloth, you both like to start fires. Try not to. Illumi is a good boy, he shouldn’t have to pick sides." 

Hisoka waited, sensing Zeno had more to say.

"You are not what I expected," Zeno admitted, his aura still overwhelmingly powerful but somehow less imposing now. His smile tugged up just slightly. “My grandson likes you a lot. Take care of him, Hisoka."

"I will," Hisoka promised, finding it the easiest thing to say in the world. Caring for Illumi was part of him, natural and obvious as breathing.

"Good," Zeno said, turning away. "Welcome to the family, then."

With those words, he leapt onto the rooftop. 

As he moved, petals cascaded from the balcony, enveloping Hisoka in a floral shower.

Hisoka lingered a moment longer, processing the encounter.

“All set,” Illumi announced from behind, pulling Hisoka back from his thoughts. He turned to see him holding a large, beautifully wrapped gift basket. “Is everything alright?”

His initial instinct was to hide the information—mischief, fun, and half-lies—but he quickly dismissed the thought.

“Your grandpa was here. I guess he wanted to check on me.”

“Smart move,” Illumi replied, prompting an eyebrow raise from Hisoka, “That’s actually what I would do too, if it concerned one of my siblings." He opened the car door and slipped in. "Come on, let’s go. You can fill me in on the way. I still want to stop by a game shop to pick up something for Milluki.”

Hisoka chuckled softly.

The Zoldycks.

He had the sudden feeling that he wouldn’t be bored at all.

Chapter Text

Hisoka's gaze was drawn to a billboard—garish—pulsating neon edges and all.

In sensational fonts, it advertised the ‘House of Assassins’ and featured dramatic illustrations of cloaked figures holding daggers dripping with cartoonish blood. As the cherry on top, an oversized, flashing arrow pointed left, urging, 'Next Turn: Dare to Discover the Mystery!'

With a Zoldyck constantly at his side, he often forgot just how famous they actually were, especially among ordinary people—characters from stories told in hushed, excited whispers. The perfect fodder for conspiracy theorists and thrill-seekers alike. 

Let them guess. The world might try to uncover the Zoldyck enigma, but he alone knew its secret, cradled it, embraced it, peeled back the myth to reveal the warm body of the man he loved beneath.

The car followed the sign's directions, and the silhouette of Kukuroo Mountain emerged against the darkening sky, with its gates illuminated by spotlights.

Hisoka rested his head against the window, taking in the sight.

"It’s quite something, huh?" the chauffeur remarked, his chattiness unabated since he’d picked them up from the airport. "Most folks only know this place for—well," he paused, glancing at Illumi in the rearview mirror, "you know, the usual stuff. But there's much more to it than that. Did you know Kukuroo is home to the lunar deer, visible only under a full moon? Really something to see, absolutely beautiful! And that's not all—ever hear about the Silken Moths?" 

Caught off guard by the question, Hisoka glanced at the driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror. A chubby figure, smiling broadly beneath a bushy mustache, sporting an incongruous beret. "I’m afraid I haven’t." 

"Figured as much! They only live right here on Kukuroo, spinning threads that are tougher than any spider silk." The man gestured with one hand, while the other steadied the wheel. "And then there’s the Zephyr Hawks, majestic birds with purple plumage that ride the dawn winds…"

The man seemed to come alive as he spoke of the mountain's residents, displaying a passion that Hisoka guessed rarely found an audience—given the sparse number of guests and the Zoldycks' no-nonsense demeanor. 

As the chauffeur continued, Hisoka turned his attention to Illumi—to the sharp line of his jaw, to his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His aura, usually as fluid and sharp as waves crashing over rocks, had now settled into a too-calm stillness. A scene trapped under a glass snow globe. Airless.

Their hands rested side by side on the seat, nearly touching. Hisoka resisted the urge to slide his fingers closer, to whisper into his ear, "It's going to be okay. I'm right here with you."

When they had first planned this trip, Illumi was upfront about what to expect. "My family, they're… traditional. ‘Old fashioned’ is perhaps a better term," he had said one evening as they lay in bed, nose to nose. "I’m not saying I don’t want you," he quickly added, his hand tracing over his scars, "or that I'm ashamed. It's just… we should try to do things their way, properly. So, at least until the wedding, when we’re at their place, let’s try not to be openly affectionate." 

Hisoka agreed. His initial reluctance dissolved under Illumi’s soft kisses, under the admission that it would be hard for him too.

They tried to store up touches and intimacy, but Hisoka knew that, much like eating more doesn’t stave off future hunger, he would soon crave more of their closeness.

Now, deprived of it, he felt how unnatural their restraint was—being next to him, but unable to feel him. Not only in passionate ways but even in simple acts like touching his hand.

As they drove closer, the numbers on the iron gates gradually came into focus, resembling the world's most peculiar eyesight test. A knot tightened in Hisoka’s gut. Am I truly ready for this?

An impulse compelled him to make the car turn around, to flee from what awaited.

No.

This was it. Time to face whatever lay beyond those gates, ready or not.

As to emphasize his resolve, the car turned away from the main entrance toward a secluded part of the wall, away from any casual observers. It stopped in front of a giant smooth surface. The driver pressed a small button on the dashboard, and the wall slid open, revealing the path ahead.

The chauffeur glanced over his shoulder, grinning. "Pretty cool, huh? Bet you don’t see something like this every day!" The car rolled forward and emerged on the other side of the wall. 

No going back now.

"Here we are—The Zoldyck Estate! You might not see much from the main road, though—Master Silva insists on privacy, you know. It's still a bit of a ride to the mansion."

Before Hisoka could reply, Illumi interjected. “Stop here, please,” he instructed the driver, who complied immediately. "Thank you, Duffy. We'll be right back."

“Sure thing, Master Illumi! I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Stepping out of the car and waiting for Illumi to join him, Hisoka took a moment to admire him—one of the few pleasures still available to him. His eyes first caressed several preferred details of the raven beauty, before appreciating his overall attire. Their attire, in fact, since they were both dressed in matching suits. Sharp lines hugged their forms, from tapered trousers to defined waists. All in good taste obviously. 

They seldom donned such formal wear, which seemed almost a shame—especially given the complementing colors. Illumi's suit was pine green with mulberry purple accessories, while Hisoka's ensemble featured a reverse palette. "A united front," Illumi had called it.

As they moved away from the car, Illumi’s aura eased ever so slightly. Sensing the shift, Hisoka closed the distance and murmured, “Master Illumi, hmm? Should I address you like that once we're alone?"

Illumi’s eyes glinted. “You might try,” his voice was a low rumble that sent a shiver down Hisoka’s spine. “But be warned, I don’t play roles lightly,” he added, the hint of a smirk crossing his face. “But now’s not the time or the place. There’s someone I want you to meet before we head to the house.”

“Lead the way,” Hisoka replied, striving to shake off visions of leather boots and firm commands. The last thing he needed was to greet this person with a raging boner.

They ventured deeper into a forested area, where darkness draped their path. The road was uneven, and Hisoka concentrated on each step, cautious of the hidden rocks and jutting roots that threatened to trip him.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

A dark shape rose from the earth, looking as if the night itself had grown teeth and claws. Before him now towered a beast, its coat rippling between deep black and glossy violet where the sparse moonlight reached.

Astonishing. He had glimpsed photos of the hound before, but they fell woefully short of capturing its size. For a second, Hisoka felt like he’d stumbled into a reverse world, one where he was the pet to this behemoth. 

Even more fascinating was the nen radiating from the beast. Unlike the untamed aura typical of wild animals, this energy was controlled. Clearly trained.

Illumi stepped forward, reaching out his hand. The animal's large head lowered, accepting the touch.

"Mike," Illumi's voice was firm, "this is Hisoka. You're not to hurt him."

The giant dog remained still, giving no indication that he understood Illumi—or if it could understand at all. With a nod, Illumi signaled for Hisoka to come closer.

Hisoka closed the distance between himself and the guardian, halting just short of snapping range. Mike observed him, embodying stillness.

Odd.

Hisoka wasn't particularly fond of dogs—or any animals for that matter—but as he looked back into the canine’s black pools, he felt an unexpected pull. 

“Hello, Mike,” he said, the words feeling a bit ridiculous as they left his mouth. Look at him—talking with a dog. "I'm... Illumi’s future husband. I hope you'll be okay with me visiting now and then?"

Mike started circling him. Nostrils flared as he took in the new scent. Hisoka felt him too—the dense, damp musk of dog fur that spoke of wet earth and open fields. After a few investigative rounds, he lay down with a huff and rested his massive head against Hisoka’s leg.

Watching from a distance, Illumi smiled. "He likes you." 

Encouraged, Hisoka reached out and scratched behind Mike’s ears. "Seems we’re friends now, huh?" 

As Mike pressed closer, seeking more affection, Hisoka’s hesitance gave way to more confident strokes.

Not a bad start, he thought. Two of the Zoldycks, already on my side.

After giving Mike one last pat and a “good boy,” Hisoka stepped away and turned his focus to Illumi, who was leaning against a tree, watchful.

He approached him, stopping at an appropriate distance. Then—he extended his hand and reached for Illumi's tie, making a show of straightening it. His fingers traced the silk, smooth under his touch.

Illumi glanced aside, and after a heartbeat, he grabbed Hisoka’s tie, pulling him closer.

Their kiss was a tender thing. Illumi’s lips were soft and unhurried against Hisoka’s, sun-like, the first touch of warmth through the morning chill. Hisoka let his eyes drift shut, getting lost in the softness.

He didn't want to stop. How could he, when every inch of him pulsed with the desire to stay? To melt here together, just how it was supposed to be. Just the two of them.

He was foolish to relish in this pleasure knowing that it would soon end.

And it did, far too quickly.

Illumi’s grip on Hisoka’s tie loosened, and the space between them widened once more. Hisoka let out a muted grunt—part protest, part resignation. “We should go,” the assassin stated. 

Reluctantly, Hisoka nodded, and they made their way back to the car.

He felt calmer now. He carried the taste of Illumi’s kiss, a secret talisman for the upcoming meeting.

Once back in the car, they continued towards the manor. The tires crunched over gravel that seemed more suited for footsteps than the roll of wheels. Lit only by their headlights, the surrounding forest seemed a perfect backdrop for a classic horror film—teens lost in the woods, being stalked and hunted down. Fun.

After a while they rounded a curve, and the Zoldyck estate came into view. The mansion, styled like a Château and painted in a light, sandy palette, was lit by lamps placed at even intervals in alcoves around the building. What it lacked in intricate decorations, it was making up in the sheer volume of the manor—especially those sky-high walls.

Clearly, the estate was as much a declaration of power as it was a home.

The car’s headlights swept across hedges and floral arrangements, coming to a stop at the foot of a grand staircase. Atop of it, Kikyo and Silva Zoldyck awaited. 

Peeking at Silva through the car window, Hisoka couldn’t help but think that 'massive' was a recurring theme at the Zoldyck estate. A mountain of a man in a suit, Silva looked as he’d rather be anywhere else. 

It was somewhat amusing, and certainly comforting, knowing the unease wasn’t his alone. 

Kikyo was dressed in an ocean-deep blue gown, accompanied with a matching hat. Her hair was pulled back tightly, accentuating the angular precision of her features. Her lips moved quickly, a stream of words directed at her husband.

Stepping out of the car, Hisoka didn’t waste a beat. He grabbed the gifts and was at Illumi’s door in a flash. Juggling a basket and a gift bag, he still managed to help Illumi out, playing the part of the perfect gentleman flawlessly. 

Together, they ascended the grand staircase, and Hisoka could practically taste the intensity of his hosts' nen. Silva's aura was all over the place—untamed and wild, while Kikyo's possessed a more polished quality, sharp like the edge of a blade. Getting closer to them was like diving headfirst into a tsunami. Hisoka maintained a composed expression, but inside, his pulse raged like a wild animal in a cage.

As they neared the top, Hisoka felt the weight of Silva's stare pressing down on him. He flashed a polite smile, but it was lost on him—his face remained as impassive as carved stone. Meanwhile, Kikyo ceased her chatter, her visor flickering intermittently.

"Illumi!" Kikyo’s voice rang out, sharp as cracked glass. "You're finally home."

Illumi returned her greeting, while Silva issued a curt “Welcome.” 

Then Kikyo’s visor snapped to him. "And this must be Hisoka." 

"In the flesh," he replied, offering a courteous smile. "Mrs. Zoldyck, Mr. Zoldyck, it’s an honor to meet you. Illumi speaks very highly of both of you."

“That’s heartening.” Kikyo remarked, her smile pinched at the edges. “Though I’m afraid we can’t say the same. Illumi hasn’t been quite as vocal about you, in fact, he didn’t mention you at all until the engagement.” Hisoka could well imagine the killer look under her visor. "Well, no matter,” she continued, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle on her sleeve, “these next few days should give us plenty of time to become thoroughly acquainted.”

“Speaking of which,” Hisoka stepped forward to offer the basket, “I’ve brought a token of my gratitude for your hospitality.”

Kikyo glanced at the gift, then back to Hisoka. She accepted it with a nod. "How thoughtful," she remarked, passing it to a butler nearby.

Well, well. The lady of the house likes to play.  

She didn’t know he was no stranger to games, and he had yet to find one he couldn't master. 

For now, he would tread carefully, observe. 

Now, to test his luck with papa Silva.

Pulling a finely carved box from the gift bag, Hisoka handed it over to Silva. "Mr. Zoldyck, I thought this might interest you. I understand you have an appreciation for fine craftsmanship.” 

Silva accepted the box and lifted its lid. Inside, a dagger rested on velvet. Its blade was etched with ancient script, the handle made of dark, exotic wood. Silva's eyebrows lifted subtly as he ran his finger along the flat of the blade. 

A point for us, maybe?

"Let's move inside," Silva finally said. "The butlers have prepared something for you to eat." With that, he turned and led them through a pair of double doors into the heart of the Zoldyck domain. 

Inside, Hisoka took the opportunity to absorb the surroundings. The mansion's interior was as imposing as its facade, with soaring ceilings and gigantic paintings hung along the hallway.

He walked along, eyeing portraits and historical scenes, searching for any familiar faces without success. He wondered if one day, a splash of red would pierce the endless sea of black and white.

Soon, they entered a vast space complete with a fireplace and scattered sofas. Silva continued down the hallway, while Kikyo paused, prompting them to do the same. 

“Illumi, show our guest the kitchen, and feel free to help yourselves. I’ll return shortly,” Kikyo instructed, then hurried after her husband, her heels echoing on the marble floor—tac, tac, tac.

As they approached the kitchen, a modest array of sandwiches lay aligned on a silver platter, flanked by two glasses of water.

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. Sandwiches. At the Zoldyck mansion.

Just as he plucked one to examine, Illumi sidled up beside him. "You’re doing fine," he said.

Turning to face him, Hisoka caught Illumi’s strained smile. He couldn't really call it uplifting, but appreciated the gesture all the same.

"Thank you, darling." Between Illumi's presence and his charmingly clumsy attempts at comfort, Hisoka felt the endeavor might just be manageable. "Shall we sit down for a bite?"

Illumi nodded, and they took seats at a small table. Only now, Hisoka realized just how quiet the house was. The absence of conversation amplified every small sound—from their chewing to the rustle of their clothes.

Hisoka wondered if the stillness was typical for such places, where empty rooms far outnumbered its residents, or maybe, if it was simply due to the late hour.

Midway through their second sandwich, footsteps echoed in the hallway—tac, tac, tac. Hisoka looked up to see Kikyo entering the room.

"Illumi, your father needs you in the study." As Illumi turned to him, perhaps to say something, she added, "I’m sure your boyfriend will be perfectly comfortable, enjoying his meal and relaxing." 

Hisoka smirked, if only inwardly. Boyfriend, fiancé—details, details. And since when is a sandwich a meal?  

But he kept these thoughts to himself.

With a quick nod, Illumi excused himself and followed Kikyo out of the kitchen, leaving Hisoka alone. So much for my emotional support fiancé.

Hisoka's gaze wandered around the kitchen. It was unexpectedly modern compared to the rest of the mansion, featuring a white and grey palette and equipped with the finest appliances and the latest culinary gadgets.

An opportunity to pass the time, perhaps? Since they left me here all alone…

With a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, Hisoka strolled through the space, trailing his fingertips along the granite countertops and pulling open drawers at random. Peering inside, he found neatly arranged utensils and tableware.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but at the next drawer, he knew he hit the kitchen jackpot. It was filled with vials of poison—arsenic, cyanide, ricin—each labeled and organized as if they were kitchen spices.

He wondered if The Zoldycks treated lethal toxins as routine as oregano. 

He explored a while longer before sensing a familiar presence approaching: Kalluto, the youngest. Casually, he took a seat on one of the kitchen stools and waited.

Soon enough, Kalluto appeared in the doorway, and at the sight of him he stopped in his tracks. “Hisoka-san?” 

“Hello,” Hisoka greeted him with a smile and a little wave of his hand. “What’s with the surprise? Did you see a ghost?”

“I’m—well, it’s just that...” Kalluto faltered, then hurriedly added, “I hadn't expected that you would be visiting too.” 

“Too?” 

Kalluto’s gaze dropped to his shoes, which suddenly seemed to warrant intense inspection. "I heard that Illumi’s future spouse was arriving today. You must have traveled together, right?"

Hisoka suppressed a grin, suddenly enjoying this oh so much. So nobody bothered to tell the younglings. The details at least. “Indeed, we did.”

“And, how did you find her?” Kalluto dared to look at him again.

Hisoka leaned forward, elbows on the countertop, head cradled in his palms. “A true gentleman, through and through,” he declared, watching as the gears turned in Kalluto's head. When realization finally hit, Kalluto’s eyes widened slightly. "Oh, you mean... you’re—" His cheeks flushed. "My apologies for not recognizing your title, Hisoka-san."

With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Hisoka chuckled softly. “No harm done. And please, just Hisoka will do. We’re practically family after all, aren’t we?”

The soft echo of footsteps reverberated down the hallway, and soon a butler appeared at the kitchen doorway. He paused, giving a brief nod. "Your room is ready, Mr. Hisoka. I’ve been instructed to show you to it whenever you're ready."

Hisoka glanced at Kalluto, who looked still somehow perplexed. "Ah, it seems that’s my exit line," he said, standing and smoothing down his jacket with a flourish. “Let’s continue this another time, shall we?" 

With a casual wink to the young Zoldyck, Hisoka left the room and followed the butler.

~~~

Dull. 

The room was dreadfully dull.

The space was vast, impeccably clean, and completely devoid of personal touch. Minimal furniture occupied the area: a large bed, a wooden desk, and a high-backed chair.

The only decoration was a painting of a stormy sea that covered almost the entire length of one wall. Its exaggerated waves and melodramatic sky called to mind the generic art that clutters souvenir shops all around the world. Hisoka raised an eyebrow at the choice, wondering why anyone would willingly hang something like that.

The cold emanating from the walls was noticeable. While it didn't particularly bother him, he wondered how Illumi coped, given his preferences.

The worst part, though, was the ever-present aura of the Zoldyck matriarch. It seeped into every corner, ebbing and flowing like the tides. Relentlessly invasive. It felt as if her eyes were perpetually lurking in the shadows, watching—always watching. 

After a while, the surveillance became so overwhelming that Hisoka decided to employ Zetsu. Even if he could still feel her just the same, being undetectable offered a measure of relief.

And wouldn't you know?

As soon as he did, there she was, knocking on his door, claiming to check on his accommodations.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, Hisoka?" Her every word was coated in high-fructose corn syrup that could rot teeth at twenty paces. Hisoka was certain that beneath her visor, she was scanning the room meticulously.

"Everything is perfect, thank you," Hisoka replied, mirroring her saccharine tone.

Later, she appeared again, this time under the pretext of delivering extra towels "just in case." Something told him this wouldn’t be her last visit—not tonight, and certainly not during his stay.

It was suffocating. Oddly, it was invigorating too. 

It was a challenge, plain and simple.

After sensing a significant wane in her aura, Hisoka glanced down the corridor. Empty. He slipped through, drawn irresistibly to the room where he detected Illumi’s nen. He knocked with a smirk pre-drawn on his lips.

“You’re here,” Illumi said, his face unmoved, the surprise conspicuously absent.

"Seems I am," Hisoka replied with a playful lilt in his tone. "Couldn't resist a quick look at your room. May I?"

Illumi exhaled softly and stepped aside, allowing him entry before closing the door and leaning against it. His eyes fixed on Hisoka, who had already begun to prowl the room.

Illumi's bedroom had slightly more personality than Hisoka's own quarters, but echoed a similar austere aesthetic. Besides the basic furniture, a bookcase lined one wall, packed with manuals and compendiums suited to Illumi’s profession. On some shelves were displayed the tools of his trade—vials of poison, an assortment of pins, select weapons, and a neatly arranged aid kit. A desk was covered with documents, each stack aligned with military precision.

It all seemed too sterile, too professional. A curated exhibit of Illumi Zoldyck, the assassin. This wasn’t the Illumi that Hisoka knew—or rather, it was only a sliver, a fraction of him.

Disappointing.

His gaze settled on the nightstand, and a small smile crept across his lips. Among the expected items, like Illumi's phone, lay a small toy mouse—Matilda. It was somewhat charming that the only personal touch unrelated to work was a gift from him.

As he moved closer, Hisoka gave Matilda a gentle pat, before noticing something else.

Could it be?

Yes, a playing card—its edges worn but unmistakable—was hidden beneath Illumi’s phone. He lifted it and flicked it between his fingers to reveal the Joker. 

"Well, well, keeping love tokens?" He waved it towards Illumi. “Though I don’t remember giving you this one…”

"It’s just a card," Illumi retorted, arms crossed.

“So you’re saying if I were to check my decks, there wouldn’t be one missing a joker?” Hisoka mused, his expression mockingly thoughtful.

Illumi stepped forward, hand outstretched to reclaim the item. On a whim, Hisoka took the card out of Illumi’s reach, reveling in the flush that appeared on the assassin’s cheeks. He knew Illumi wanted to snatch it back forcefully, but surprise, surprise—the rules of decorum applied to him too.

Something wicked sparkled in Hisoka as he flashed a grin that could only be described as shit-eating. "Aren’t you adorable? Crushing on me so hard. Blushing as if it were our first date."

Illumi's gaze met Hisoka's with the crackle of static before a lightning strike. Charged. Forewarning.

Despite their impending marriage and the undeniable bond between them, Illumi remained untamed at heart. Wolf-like, he could turn on even his closest packmate if they didn't adhere to the pecking order.

Hisoka knew. Under any other circumstances, he would already be pinned down, entirely at Illumi's mercy. And oh, he was acutely aware of how Illumi's punishments tended to far surpass the original misdeed. 

Or perhaps, Hisoka wouldn’t be so compliant, sparking a heated clash that would leave them both spent, adorned with bruises and matching shades of red.

The thought alone was dangerously exciting, sending a warm rush southward that was hard to ignore. Hisoka stopped his teasing and handed the card back, just like that.

Here he was, tempting fate again. He needed to curb these self-sabotaging daydreams. Easier said than done when thoughts of Illumi quickened his pulse so deliciously. 

Illumi's frustration seemed to dissolve as he exhaled deeply and collapsed onto his bed. “This might, or might not be, a small token from the time you were courting me,” he said, holding up the card with a contemplative look.

“You'll need to be more specific—I’m hardly ever not courting you,” Hisoka slid down next to him, their shoulders brushing. “Whenever that was, I’m thrilled you might or might not have taken it,” their fingers casually intertwined. “But, in the spirit of fair play, I think it’s only right I receive something in return. Haven't I told you how desperately I want to see little Illu in action? Where have those childhood photos been hiding?”

Illumi’s face took on a thoughtful expression, “I admit, that does seem fair,” he conceded. “But I’m not sure if I have any photos here. Mother has them all stashed away somewhere,” he added, almost apologetically.

Figures.

“No worries, my love,” Hisoka responded, giving Illumi’s hand a squeeze. “I can be patient.”

The room fell into silence. For the first time that day, it was the right kind—neither stifling nor awkward. Hisoka was not easily wearied, yet the day’s emotional toll—the ways he had to restrain himself—had drained him more than he would care to admit. He felt a heaviness that suggested he might soon fall asleep, and he regretted that he couldn't do so right here, in Illumi's room.

“I’m glad you're here,” Illumi said, and for a moment he looked like his usual self, “At least now, you can wish me a proper goodnight…”

“Hmm…” Hisoka hummed, propping himself up and hovering just over Illumi. Their breaths mingled, and a hint of mint from Illumi's toothpaste lingered in the air.

Just before things could get interesting, Hisoka’s senses tingled, picking up an approaching aura. “Uh-oh, seems the eye of Noruas has awakened.” 

“What?” 

"It’s time for my disappearing act," Hisoka declared, bridging the gap between them with a quick peck. “Goodnight, my dear.”

As he prepared to leave, Hisoka caught the subtle frown on Illumi's face.

Sorry, Illumi, I wouldn’t want to shock dear old mommy by catching us like this. 

With a flourish and a smirk, Hisoka retreated.

No sooner had he entered his room than a ping from his phone broke the silence. It was a simple “Goodnight,” from Illumi, but what was interesting was the photo attached to the text.

It showed a teenage Illumi instructing Milluki on tracking techniques. His fiancé, dressed in the plain clothes Hisoka recalled from their early years, was half-crouched and pointing at footprints. Milluki, in overalls, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

Chuckling, Hisoka saved the photo, wondering about what other treasures might be stashed away inside the walls of the Zoldyck manor. 

~~~

Hisoka tossed and turned in bed until his bladder finally nudged him awake. He peeled back the covers and rose, his feet meeting the cold floor as he headed to the bathroom.

Midway there, something moved at the edge of his vision. He paused, turned, and looked around the room. Nothing there—just shadows.

Perhaps Kikyo’s snooping is getting under my skin, he thought, half-amused.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he slid back under the covers, casting one last wary glance around the room. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him, drifting into sleep once more.

Chapter Text

A ray of sun slipped through the curtains, stretching its golden fingers to caress Illumi's cheek.

The assassin rolled over and reached out, only to grasp at empty air. A grunt punctured the silence and Illumi drew the sheets closer, folding and pressing the fabric against him, trying to sculpt the linen into a morning embrace. Rather unsuccessfully.

His fingers swept over the nightstand, groping blindly until they found the familiar shape of his phone.  

As the screen lit up, it greeted him with a burst of light and ten new messages from Hisoka. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and started to scroll through the texts, the first one sent at 5:23 AM. 

Hisoka: Dragged from the depths of sleep to witness the sun peering over Kuroro. This sunrise better perform. ★ -_-💧 

Hisoka: I’ve spotted a bird. Duffy said it's rare. I think it just hates people. ♦  

Hisoka: Came across a spooky, imposing cock. Reminded me of you. ♥

Hisoka: *cock ♣

Hisoka: ROCK ♠

Hisoka: If I hear ‘stunning creature’ one more time, I’m starting a drinking game. ♣

Hisoka: Made it! ♥

Next, Hisoka’s selfie popped up. He was grinning broadly, teeth gleaming. His eyes crimped at the corners, as luminous as the dawn-kissed forest in the background.

His expression was that of a self-satisfied fox who had slipped into the henhouse only to lie beside the hens—he was behaving, and he wanted Illumi to know it. He was hoping for a belly rub and a treat.

Duffy was there too, waving from behind.

Hisoka: Alright, I admit it—it’s genuinely breathtaking here. ♣

Hisoka: Just found out there’s a whole itinerary lined up for me. Joy. ♦ 

Hisoka: Off to the Whispering Caves now. ♠

Illumi scowled. He had wanted to be the one to guide him, to make the experience more personal and enjoyable. Without him, his fiancé might wander through these locations without truly appreciating them—not in the way Illumi did.

He typed back, his fingers still clumsy from sleep:

Illumi: Thanks for the updates. I’ve so many memories tied to those places. ‘Little Illu’ adventures, as you’d say. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Soon, the phone buzzed in his hand.

Hisoka: Save those stories for me. I’ll get them out of you later. ♥

Illumi: When you’re in the caves, look for ‘I Z’ carved somewhere inside.

Hisoka: Ah, a quest! I’ll scout it out. ♣

Hisoka: Later, Illumi. Whenever that may be. ♦ 

Hisoka: ❤️

Illumi’s thumb hovered for a moment, and then, feeling just a bit ‘extra’, he tossed in a kiss emoji and set the phone down.

He sat up. The cold floor greeted his bare feet, making him immediately miss the warm cocoon he had just left. With slippers on, he approached his wardrobe and selected a set of clothes that struck the perfect balance between casual and presentable. With those in hand, he headed to the bathroom to start his morning routine.

While brushing his teeth, he considered the day ahead. Hisoka's absence at breakfast was unfortunate—a missed opportunity for a casual introduction that dinner might not afford. Now, with the itinerary set, it seemed he wouldn’t see him until the evening.

So what next? The day lay open, undefined. While it wasn’t unusual for field operations to cease, such days typically aligned with holidays, complete with planned activities and predictable routines. 

Today was different. 

As the first in his generation to introduce a fiancé to the family, Illumi felt like a pioneer venturing into uncharted territory. Without Hisoka or a set plan, he felt adrift.

Now dressed, Illumi combed his hair to a glossy finish. Then, as the final touch, he took up the perfume borrowed from Hisoka and applied it to the places where, by now, Hisoka’s lips would have lingered if he were here. Well, some of them.

Ready to go, he made one last stop at his suitcase to retrieve a package before leaving his bedroom. 

Instead of heading to the dining room, he chose a different path and arrived at a set of imposing double doors at the end of the corridor. He knocked twice.

Kikyo's voice called from within, "come in, Illumi".

Illumi opened the door and paused at the threshold. Kikyo was seated at her vanity, with her back to him and her long black hair cascading down like a river of ink. She brushed it methodically while humming a melody. 

For a moment, he was transported back to his childhood. She would sit just like this, and he, too small to reach, would climb onto a chair to help. She would giggle. 

He felt an impulse to recreate that moment, that sound. He quickly suppressed it. 

"What is it, Illumi?" Kikyo looked up, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, setting aside her brush and turning to face him.

"Thank you, I slept well," he said. "I have something for you, Kaasan." 

He stepped forward, extending his hand to offer a small, elegantly wrapped package he had been concealing behind his back.

She took it, her delicate fingers reaching for the ribbon and teasing it loose. The lacquer on her nails, shaped not unlike Hisoka’s, briefly flashed in the light.

A spark ignited in her eyes as she peeled away the paper to reveal a crystal figurine of a foxbear. It stood as if caught mid-roar, between ferocity and grace.

“Illumi!” 

Kikyo sprang from her seat, her arms locking around him in an embrace.

"You always look after your mama," she murmured into his shoulder, loosening her hold just enough to cradle his cheek. "But I see so little of you, my son."

Not knowing how to respond, he simply said, “I’m here now”.

“And that man!” she cried out, her voice cracking as she buried her face against his chest and held him tightly. He felt the fabric tear where her fingers clutched. "He wants to take you from me.” Her heart hammered against him, rapid as a hummingbird’s. “You’ll abandon your family, leave your poor mother to fend for herself!"

Though her claims were far from the truth, Illumi chose his words carefully, opting for empathy over accuracy. "Kaasan, my commitments remain unchanged. My work, my duties to the family—it will all continue as it always has."

She pulled away abruptly, turning her back to him with a rustle of fabric and sobs. "You say so now! You treat this house like a hotel, disappearing whenever you please. You even missed New Year’s Eve! Soon, you might decide not to return at all! Just like Killu!"

"It’s not like that, if you only could—" Illumi replied, reaching out to her, his hand suspended in mid-air. He stopped himself.   

Then, an idea sparked. "Do you remember the garden you wanted to start by yourself? The one in the backyard with all those wildflowers you love?" 

Her sobbing quieted, and she nodded slowly.

"Let’s bring that idea to life. We can even start today."

"…I would find that agreeable," she said, her demeanor calming as suddenly as a leaf settles after the wind. She approached a cabinet and placed the foxbear amidst its crystal kin, a zoo frozen in glass and light.

"But first, let's have breakfast," she suggested with a sing-song lilt. "Why don’t we make good use of our cooks and order an Eton mess and a ham and cheese galette?"

"Yes, let’s," Illumi agreed, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. He offered his arm, and Kikyo slid her hand through it. Together, they left the room.

~~~

The car coasted to a stop at the base of the stairs, its engine purring softly before falling silent. 

Hisoka unfolded himself from the vehicle and stretched luxuriously, soaking in the last rays of sunshine. 

Now, with time to spare, he leisurely observed the manor. Unlike yesterday there was something more inviting to it. Maybe it was the sun—caressing it with its Midas touch.

The daylight revealed new details, such as horizontal grooves etched into the stone walls and a heraldic crest on each side of the staircase. Hisoka drew closer to investigate. Each crest featured a hexagon at its center, and below, an inscription: Per Traditio, Familia Stabilitur, Opus Perficitur.

"I've got some news!" a chipper voice announced from behind. Hisoka turned to see Duffy beaming at him. “Madame Kikyo just texted. She wants me to show you around the manor while everyone’s still out. Probably figured it’d keep you from getting bored.”

"That does sound delightful, Duffy," Hisoka began, flashing a polished smile. The kind that could charm birds from trees or, more practically, unlock doors and lower guards. "But wouldn’t it be more intriguing to leave something for discovery over the next few days? Where’s the fun in seeing everything all at once?"

"Well, that's a nice thought, Mr. Hisoka, but Madame’s instructions are quite clear."

Both the man and the estate had their charm, but Hisoka would be damned if he allowed himself to be handled for a single minute more. He only wore a leash when Illumi was the one holding it.

Hisoka stepped closer and spoke softly, a bit like sharing a secret. "Duffy, I must confess, all this excitement’s left me a little tired. Wouldn't it be tragic if I missed the manor's finer details simply because I’m too worn out to notice?" He placed a hand on Duffy's shoulder, meeting his gaze. "You'd want me to have the fullest experience, right? Perhaps we could make a little exception, just this once?"

Duffy scratched his head, then chuckled, somehow nervously. "I guess when you put it that way... Alright, maybe slowing down isn’t such a bad idea. But," he glanced around, "if anyone asks—"

"—we’ve seen everything there is to see today," Hisoka finished and clapped Duffy lightly on the shoulder. "This will be our little secret. A gentlemen’s agreement," he added with a wink.

"Exactly that!” Duffy grinned broadly. “A gentlemen’s agreement! You’ve got a way with words, you do!"

Hisoka nodded graciously. "Thank you, Duffy. I appreciate your flexibility."

"Alright then, Mr. Hisoka! I’ll see you around. Enjoy your evening!" Duffy said and headed to the car, chuckling. He hopped into the vehicle and waved heartily as he drove away.

Hisoka returned the gesture with a flourish, watching him depart.

He found himself liking Duffy more and more. So refreshingly unaware.

He didn’t even consider the other servants who might report to the Madame. But that wasn’t his concern—after all, he wasn’t the one shirking his duties.

All by himself, he climbed the stairs and stepped into the manor. The heavy door closed behind him, and only the scent of polished wood and the distant tick-tock of a clock were there to greet him.

He toyed with the idea of seeking out Illumi or perhaps indulging in a bit of exploration on his own. Tempting, indeed. However, after a brief internal debate and a quick sniff under his armpits, practicality prevailed. The day's journey had left grit on his skin and sweat beneath his 'presentable' clothes. A bath was definitely in order.

He made his way to his room. Once inside, he began to strip away the layers of his outfit, each piece forming a soft mound of fabric around his feet. 

Everything proceeded smoothly, until he reached his underwear. As he stepped out of them, he slipped on a rogue sock and toppled backward onto the floor.

A string of profanity involving relatives, sexual activities, and anatomical references erupted from his mouth. After getting up, he kicked the pile of clothes, grabbed the offending sock, and sent it flying out the window. 

Clumsiness wasn’t his style. He was the embodiment of grace, able to dance around any opponent and kill them in the highest heels without breaking a sweat. But today, he was plagued by bad luck and a lack of finesse—from tripping over roots and slipping on mossy stones, to his foot breaking through a hidden hole. And now this.

Maybe it was nerves, more than he was willing to admit.

He entered the shower. The water washed away the dust and sweat, and the heat unraveled his tension. 

He remained inside far longer than would be socially acceptable. 

Afterward, wrapped in the embrace of a towel, he returned to his room. As he dampened his hair, he glanced out the window, noting how the light had faded to the bruised purples and blues of dusk. The house seemed to be filled with auras again.

He flopped onto the bed and grabbed his phone, finding a text from Illumi: "I came by earlier, but you were in the bathroom. Dinner’s at 19:00. Don’t be late." Hisoka fired off a quick reply.

Soon, he would have to prepare. He would step out of the room, dine, smile, and perform.

But for now—a game of Solitaire. 

He opened the app on his phone and watched as the cards shuffled on the screen.

~~~

Hisoka emerged from his room well before the appointed time. Fresh and fragrant, he chose one of his favorite outfits—a copper-shaded jacket and trousers, adorned with card-patterned buttons and a floral pin. 

His slightly-heeled boots echoed through the marble corridor. It was only when he paused at a crossroads that he heard faint music drifting from the depths of the house. Following the notes like breadcrumbs, Hisoka found his way to the open doors of the dining room. 

Although Illumi had mentioned formality at events like this, Hisoka hadn’t anticipated a setting that seemed lifted straight from a Victorian novel. 

The room was spacious, dominated by a long mahogany table set with crystal glassware and fine china. Silver candelabras were placed on an ivory tablecloth, and at the center, a large floral arrangement graced the table. Jazz spilled from a gramophone on a nearby table.

Beyond the dining area, the room transitioned into a more intimate setting featuring a large stone fireplace. 

Above it, the Zoldycks—formal and frozen—watched from within a giant frame. The painting captured the children clustered around Zeno, Silva, and Kikyo. There was his sweetheart in his short-haired days, Milluki and Killua looking equally unamused, and tiny Kalluto cradled in Kikyo’s lap. Charming.

As Hisoka studied the portrait, a few details caught his attention. The area near Kikyo had an unusual sheen, and even the colors seemed mismatched. The more he observed, the more convinced he became that Kikyo’s hand had been altered—as if its original position had been repainted. A narrative reshaped?

His gaze moved to the room below, where several armchairs were arranged in a semi-circle around the fireplace. Silva sat among them, absorbed in a newspaper.

Hisoka felt a twinge of regret at his hasty retreat. He weighed his options, each tinged with a unique flavor of unease: a) remain standing awkwardly, b) sit at the dining table, c) seek refuge in other rooms, or d) approach Silva.

Illumi's words echoed in his mind, reminding him that this was, after all, an introductory visit.

And the fireplace did look quite inviting. 

He crossed the room and settled into an armchair close to Silva. The warmth from the fire washed over him, and the scent of burning pine filled his nostrils.

Clearing his throat, Hisoka glanced at Silva, who was dressed in a black suit adorned with purple oriental motifs. The man's attention remained fixed on his reading, occasionally reaching for a glass half-filled with a brown-tinged liquid. 

His nen was very near and very palpable. That power…

Concentrate. Hisoka chided himself with a mental smack.

Not exactly a fan of small talk, Hisoka was nevertheless determined to give it a shot—for Illumi’s sake.

"Anything interesting in the news today?" he ventured. 

Silva's eyes met his. Then, with a noncommittal hum he returned to the newspaper.

Ugh.  

Hisoka sifted through his mental archive, pausing on the dossier labeled ‘Silva Zoldyck’. Weapons, martial arts, the military history of Padokea. Surely there was some common ground there.

"Illumi mentioned you’re a Zaikuryu expert?” he inquired tentatively.

Silva set the paper down, folded his hands, and raised his gaze to Hisoka. He just watched him. Silently.

The moment stretched on, punctuated only by the fire's crackle.

Feeling compelled to fill the silence, Hisoka’s words began to tumble out. “I once fought a martial artist who used the same style—quite possibly one of the toughest opponents I've encountered. What a delightful challenge that was! It made me toy with the idea of dabbling in the discipline myself." 

Silva’s gaze remained as unyielding as ever, his brow now furrowed in a faint frown.

"Actually, I even tried to mimic one of his moves. It's far trickier than it appears, isn't it? Especially since it was in the middle of a raging downpour. Though I'm sure you're well acquainted with such challenges, with the—"

"You have my father’s hair," Silva said.

Hisoka blinked, his train of thought derailing spectacularly. What?  

Was it a compliment? A criticism? Some strange form of intimidation? 

He scrambled for a response, his mouth opening, then closing, then opening again. "Oh?" he managed, his usual eloquence deserting him.

"It's distinctive," Silva elaborated.

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled Hisoka from the brink of whatever this was spiraling into. Kikyo’s voice drifted ahead of them, not quite distinct but discernible enough, "...can't believe how quickly you're...—really need to have a new one made for you."

Kikyo, Illumi, and slightly behind them, Kalluto, entered the room. As they did, both Hisoka and Silva rose to greet them. Though all were primped and dressed in formal attire, Hisoka's eyes were inexorably drawn to Illumi.

His outfit was a stark deviation from his usual choices—truly a stark one. He sported a form-fitting ensemble in cerulean blue, segmented into sleek panels that nodded to traditional martial attire. 

Hisoka's gaze traced the trajectory of each seam. The fabric clung to Illumi with a daring closeness, verging on scandalous for the setting.

Though no skin was overtly shown, the outfit highlighted Illumi's toned physique, mapping the musculature of his arms and chest. And the sash—oh, the sash—it gathered the fabric at the waist, sculpting its curves enticingly, calling for his hands to draw him close and hold fast. 

His mind raced, imagining the texture under his fingers, the slow reveal—or no, better, tearing it right off. And then…

He gave his wrist a sharp pinch. The bite of skin against skin pulled him back to the here and now.

Realizing he was staring—and worse, Kikyo was addressing him—he forced himself to break the spell and turned his attention to her.

"—particularly at times like this," Kikyo was saying.

Still dizzy from the visual treat, he nodded, reseting Illumi for making the already challenging no-boner scenario even more difficult. Spotting a butler approaching with a tray of drinks, Hisoka seized the opportunity to redirect the conversation.

“Why don't we toast?” He plucked a glass of sparkling wine from the tray. “To new beginnings and to the promising journeys they herald. May we embrace the future with as much passion and respect as we hold for our traditions."

Kikyo’s lips curled into a smile. “What a nice—”

“Ah, here he is, my grandson-in-law!” Zeno exclaimed as he entered the room. Kikyo stopped mid-sentence and closed her mouth in a clash of teeth.

Interesting.  

"Good to finally meet you. You look like a fine young man." Zeno remarked, approaching Hisoka and delivering a hearty pat on the back. "To the future then!" he declared, taking a glass from the tray and raising it high. 

Four other flutes and one juice glass were lifted to meet his.  

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Zoldyck,” Hisoka replied, after he took a sip of wine.

“Zeno, please,” the elder said, waving his hand dismissively. “And don’t let all this fanfare fool you—we’re quite a cozy family when it comes down to it. I bet everyone else is feeling the same and wouldn’t mind being on a first-name basis. Wouldn’t you agree, Kikyo?”

Silence settled, a beat too long, too heavy. "Naturally," Kikyo finally spoke. “Let’s sit. The first course is about to be served."

The family members moved toward the dinner table with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

Hisoka aimed for a seat next to Illumi, nudging Kalluto down the line without a second thought. However, just as he reached to pull out the chair, Kikyo’s voice cut through the air: “Hisoka, as our guest of honor tonight, please take the seat next to Silva.”

Her request, polished with politeness, concealed a core as rigid as steel.

“Of course, Kikyo. It would be my pleasure,” Hisoka replied, moving to the seat that belonged to Zeno, which initiated some reshuffling. The parents remained at the head of the table, while Hisoka found himself positioned to the side—Silva to his left and an empty seat to his right. 

Illumi was seated far on the other side, beyond easy conversational reach.

Once in the designated seat, Hisoka's fingers wandered to the menu card resting on his plate. He traced its elegant script and lifted it to preview the evening’s culinary journey.

Appetizer:

Pan-Seared Scallops / Mango Coulis / Avocado Cream / Micro Cilantro / Lime Foam

Soup

Clear Wild Mushroom Broth / Mini Porcini Dumplings / Big Horn Bear Moss Garnish / Pine Aroma 

Main Course:

Venison Tenderloin / Black Truffle Jus / Herb Crust / Red Wine Reduction

Dessert:

Caramelized pear/ Fresh Puff Pastry / Vanilla Bean Cream / Glazed Top

As he contemplated the menu, a wave of butlers flowed into the room, forming a seamless black and white current. They served the first course, laying plates before each guest and departing with a nod. Only one figure remained, moving among them to refill their glasses with whatever their hearts desired.

From across the table, Kikyo's visor targeted him. 

He steeled himself for any potential questions, but her query took an unexpected turn. "Why isn’t Milluki here?"

“Okaasama, I checked his room earlier. He was informed to be here on time,” Kalluto’s voice floated, barely audible because of his politeness. Upon hearing this, Kikyo signaled to the butler and murmured something in his ear. 

Meanwhile, Hisoka contemplated the appetizer. Each scallop was a pale, perfect moon against the blue expanse of the plate, accompanied by droplets of green and orange scattered across its surface. 

He bathed the seafood in the sauce and savored a bite. There was freshness there, and butter tenderness, broken with just a hint of sweetness from the mango. Each morsel was a quiet conversation of textures, tastes and temperatures that unfolded in the privacy of his mouth.  

For an instant, he felt disappointed—the dish left no room for internal bitching. It was perfect.

"I swear, that boy! Always the same with him!" Kikyo exclaimed, more to the air than to anyone in particular. She then turned to Hisoka, her tone softening, "But he is also very talented and contributes a great deal to the family with his intelligence and technology."

“Actually, I've had the pleasure of getting to know him,” Hisoka said between bites. 

"Oh, really? How?" 

“There was a—”

"Geez, I was already coming down!" a voice boomed from the corridor.

Milluki Zoldyck burst into the room, hastily straightening his cravat.

"Good evening, Milluki," Hisoka greeted with a sugar-coated voice. 

Milluki’s head snapped up, eyes wide. 

“Per—I... erm... mean…” His gaze darted from Hisoka to Illumi, and his cheeks began to burn a vivid crimson. “Hisoka,” he finally squeaked out.

“Milluki, stop fumbling and sit down,” Kikyo chided.

Milluki scrambled to the seat beside him.

“How delightful to see you again! You know, Milluki, I was just about to share how we first met.” 

Milluki gulped audibly. "I—uh, I really don't think that's—" 

"Oh, it was a mission, actually!" Hisoka declared, barely containing a grin. "Illumi had invited me to join, and quite interestingly, Milluki was there too."

Across the table, Illumi's face maintained its sculpted calm, but his eyes—a shade sharper—narrowed ever so slightly. This, however, wasn’t enough to deter Hisoka. 

He was well aware of the lines he shouldn’t cross and he had no intention of overstepping them. But tiptoeing right up to their brink? That was a different matter entirely.

"Our Milluki on a mission in the real world?" Zeno joined in with a chuckle.

Milluki seemed to shrink in his seat. Hisoka noticed a bead of sweat tracing its way down his face.

"I was just as surprised, not expecting another accomplice! But truly, his contribution was invaluable. Without him and his intel, there was no way the target could be taken out. Wouldn’t you agree, Milluki?"

If anyone ever looked like they were on the verge of a heart attack, it was Milluki at that moment.

Reclining, Hisoka allowed a slow smile to unfurl across his face as he savored the scene he'd orchestrated.

Milluki managed a weak smile, and a forced 'Ha ha ha' erupted from him. A whispered ‘yes’ followed, the word barely audible as it squeezed through gritted teeth. He glanced at Illumi with a desperate plea in his eyes. However, Illumi, deep in conversation with Kalluto, remained oblivious to both Milluki and his silent cry for help.

"So, Hisoka, do you often accompany Illumi on his missions? He mentioned you’ve been helpful in the past.” 

Ah, the inquisition had begun. 

With the attention diverted, Milluki shot him a glare that clearly translated to, 'I hate you. I want to kill you. The first chance I get.'

“I’m at Illumi’s service. Whenever he needs me, I’m there.”

"Without any form of recompense?" Silva's voice boomed nearby, an eyebrow arching.

Well, there were recompenses, but that certainly wasn’t something to say out loud.

“You might call me a romantic,” Hisoka returned with a smile. “I fell for Illumi even when his interest was purely professional. I was, and still am, eager to spend time with him. His interests—and by extension, those of the Zoldyck family—remain close to my heart.” 

"And could you remind us, what exactly do you do for a living?” Kikyo inquired, “Considering you have the flexibility to devote so much time without needing monetary compensation?” 

“I’m a jack of all trades," 

“A jack of all trades, but master of none. Isn’t that how the saying goes?” Zeno asked with a half-smile.

“I can assure you, Grandpa, that he truly excels at his crafts,” Illumi interjected, “His diverse range of skills are not only significant in their own right but also make him a perfect match for me—and for the whole family.”

“Thank you for such high praise, my love,” Hisoka said, and the warmth in his words coaxed a small smile from Illumi.

Silence settled over the room. Hisoka noticed the quick glances cast his way.

Something told him that the L-word wasn’t a thing at the estate. Or perhaps it was more that Illumi had never been considered by his family as someone who could be the object of such affection. As deserved. As rightfully his.

Gradually, conversation resumed, and the butlers entered, performing another synchronized ballet. One group cleared the table while the second set down bowls crowned with sleek cloches. Simultaneously, they lifted the covers, releasing steam that carried the scent of mushrooms, earth, and woods. 

It was as if the very essence of the forest had been invited into the room and into Hisoka's nostrils.

Hisoka reached for the spoon, but it slipped and clattered to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, he noticed Milluki, absorbed in a game on his phone, the screen hidden beneath the table. Hisoka offered him a grin, which earned him a robust kick to the calf in return.

"Now, I'm quite curious," Zeno began, leaning closer with a hint of a smile, "how did you two first meet?"

"Our first encounter? Now that’s a story worth telling," Hisoka paused for effect and gave his audience a look. "It all began at an underground auction, run by the Yorknew City mafia. I was there, driven by nothing more than curiosity, while Illumi, on the other hand, was on an undercover mission. He was assigned a hit—one that almost included me."

"The target was one of the mafia bosses,” Illumi said. “I had to use my pins to impersonate one of his thugs and get close to him.”

"So there I was, strolling through the venue, when the most intriguing aura hung in the air—barely noticeable, gone in a few seconds..." Hisoka traced a finger through the air, leaving a trail of Bungee Gum in his path. "I followed it, curious as a cat, and it led me straight to a secluded room. And guess what..." He glanced at Illumi. “There he was. A severed head in one hand, his gaze burning with lethal intent, every inch the assassin despite his disguise. He tried to kill me of, course. No witnesses preferred and all that." He gave a small, dismissive wave of his hand. “But it turns out, I'm not so easy to get rid of. It was only later, at a vulnerable moment, that he managed to inject me with a potent toxin."

“A dose strong enough to take down an elephant,” Illumi clarified.

"But clearly not strong enough for me," Hisoka said with a broad grin. "Hours later, I woke up in a morgue, head pounding, heart hopelessly aching for the very man who'd tried to end my existence." 

"I recall that case," Silva said, his voice rough like gravel. "It was unprofessional not to verify the outcome."

“Yes. It was a critical error, one I've learned from."

Encouraged by nods from Silva and Zeno, Hisoka continued.

"I tried everything to track him down, but it was like chasing a ghost. No name, no real face. Just when I thought it was destined to be a one-time thrill..." He let the pause stretch, then snapped his fingers. "His aura showed up again.”

“It was just another day at Heaven's Arena, with thousands of presences, but only his stood out to me. I followed it and it led me straight to him, sitting calmly among the crowd. Once I found him, there was no way I could let him slip away again."

The tale was true enough but sanitized for the dinner table. It carefully omitted certain interesting details—like the real reason Illumi had attended that day. Whose match he had been there to watch.

“At first, he was nothing more than a thorn in my side," Illumi admitted, "but as our paths crossed again and again, he grew from a nuisance to an invaluable ally. And now," he added, his eyes meeting Hisoka’s, "he has become irreplaceable to me. In more ways than one."

"How charming," Kikyo remarked in a tone that suggested it was anything but. "And what were you doing in Heaven’s Arena, if I may inquire?"

"I held the title of a floor master; I was residing there at the time." 

"I see. And now, I hear you've taken up residence in Yorknew City?" 

"Yes, that’s correct," Hisoka replied, his mind flashing a signpost reading 'you’re now entering the danger zone.' "I've settled into quite a charming apartment there."

Kikyo leaned forward slightly. "And how close is this charming apartment to Illumi’s place? Surely you must visit each other often?"

Hisoka sensed the mine ready to detonate with a single wrong step. He treaded carefully. 

"Actually, we live quite close—same district—but sometimes it feels like we barely see each other. And you all know how Illumi is, always so busy." He chuckled lightly. It was time to steer the conversation towards safer shores. "Speaking of fascinating stories, how did you and Silva first meet? I'd love to hear about the beginnings of such a formidable partnership."

“We met on a mission,” Silva simply said.

Taking the narrative reins, Kikyo elaborated, "Our paths crossed under rather extraordinary circumstances. At the time, I was retrieving valuable antiques, and Silva was working as an assassin, just as he does today. That evening, we were both contracted for the same person—his target was a wealthy collector who also possessed an heirloom I was tasked to secure.”

“A jade panther statue,” Silva said.

"Imagine a grand gala, full of the world's elite, complete with chandeliers, a live orchestra, and guests wearing their finest creations,” she sighed softly, a dreamy tone entering her voice. "There we were, Silva and I, mingling with the crowd but secretly on the lookout for our target. It didn't take long before we realized we were both after the same person. Silva approached me and asked for a dance, a discreet way to figure out what I was up to and discuss our strategies. We quickly understood that collaborating would be far more beneficial than competing."

"It was the most sensible decision," Silva said, "but it took more than that dance to sort everything out." 

For the first time, Hisoka caught a glimpse of a smile appearing on Silva’s face. It was subtle but unmistakable, and clearly directed at Kikyo.

"That day, I saw the man he truly is—a man of profound strength and integrity. By the time the night was over, not only had we secured both the target and the heirloom, but we had also laid the groundwork for a bond that extended beyond mere professional respect.”

“That’s quite a sweet story,” For a moment Hisoka entertained the image of Kikyo and Silva, elegantly attired and dancing. Murderous too. “It makes me wonder about other delightful tales you might share. Perhaps some from Illumi’s childhood? Anything amusing he used to do?”

Kikyo’s face lit up at the question. “Oh, Illumi was such a meticulous child, even from a young age. And such a devoted big brother! I remember when Milluki was born—” She chuckled softly. “Illumi was four. I brought him to the nursery to meet his baby brother. He approached, then suddenly just stood there, eyes wide, watching Milluki babble softly in his crib. I nudged him forward, encouraging him to touch. Only then did he gently stroke the tiny tuft of hair on Milluki's head and, with such gravity, declared himself his protector!'"

“Awww,” Hisoka cooed, the word stretching out like taffy, “Isn’t it nice to have a big brother like that?”

As the attention shifted to him, Milluki straightened up, looking around as if searching for a clue about what they were discussing. “S-sure,” he stammered, just as Illumi gave him a warm smile. Caught off guard, Milluki took a sip of water in the most awkward way imaginable, spilling much of it on the table and almost choking.

Hisoka was about to further tease his perhaps second-favorite Zoldyck when the main course was served and demanded his attention. 

The plate before him was arranged with succulent tenderloin slices and a dark truffle jus that pooled around it. The butler crowned the dish with a pat of butter, which melted instantly. Its creamy richness seeped into the jus and over the caramelized crust of the meat.  

"So, as I was saying," Kikyo resumed as the course was served, "Illumi really took his role as big brother to heart. One morning, I discovered the hallway to Milluki's nursery lined with plush toys. When I asked Illumi about them, he insisted they were his elite guards, tasked with protecting his brother. I’d often trip over these tiny plush soldiers," she chuckled. "He was very serious about it, inspecting his troops, assigning them roles, and making sure no one could pass without his permission."

A quiet laugh rippled through the room, and Hisoka joined in, picturing a young Illumi with a stern face, commanding an army of stuffed animals. The story, light and charming, was exactly the kind of anecdote he had hoped to coax from Kikyo.

However, as she continued, Kikyo’s tone shifted. "But my little boy—my little soldier," she faltered, "he's all grown up and..." Her body shook with sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Hisoka froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. What exactly is happening here?

A quick glance around the table was enough to note the others' expressions—disturbingly neutral. As if this display was routine.  

God, Illumi, a heads-up on that would’ve been nice. 

Unsure how to respond, Hisoka offered a weak smile. "Illumi is... um, he’s lucky to have such a caring family," he tried. 

Kikyo’s crying, instead of subsiding, only grew louder.

Great, just great.

"And to think," Kikyo gasped between sobs, "soon he's about to be married. Married!” 

Excuse me???  

Hisoka shot Illumi a look, one that hopefully translated to ‘What the fuck is going on here?! Do something!!’  

Illumi caught his stare, squirmed in his seat, then fixed his gaze on his plate. After a moment that felt too long, he cleared his throat and murmured, "Mo—"

“Kikyo,” Silva addressed her, but to no effect. Illumi fell silent. “Kikyo,” Silva repeated, firm, reaching out to place his hand over hers. Her trembling eased, and she turned to meet his gaze.

“Here,” he said, placing a napkin into her trembling hands and withdrawing his touch. 

She dabbed at her tears. 

As voices fell silent, the gramophone music took center stage, carrying the melancholic strains of a song.

🎵 Mama may have, papa may have 🎵

🎵 But God bless the child that’s— 🎵

Hisoka suddenly became very conscious of his hands, unsure where to place them, every position feeling awkward. 

He scrambled mentally for potential topics to lighten the mood.

Just then, Illumi broke the silence, offering Hisoka an escape. “I'm curious, how did you find the estate?"

"Very impressive," Hisoka began, keeping his tone light, as if a dramatic meltdown hadn’t just occurred. "The waterfalls on the west side were particularly breathtaking—a real slice of paradise."

"I used to train near those when I was a child. The noise was deafening and forced me to sharpen my other senses."

“I’m well aware of your current skills. It only deepens my admiration for that natural beauty."

"It wasn’t only thanks to the waterfalls," Illumi said, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "My grandfather helped too. He had this unpredictable habit—I could never guess the day or hour, but he would sneak up behind me, tug on my ear, and exclaim, ‘Pay attention!’"

“Ah, but wait till you hear the best part!” Zeno said, his eyes gleaming. “One foggy morning, I spotted Illumi practicing his balance on the slippery rocks by the waterfall. Quiet as a shadow, I approached him through the mist. And just when I thought I had him…” Zeno clapped once. “A tap on my shoulder made me spin around—and there he was, asking, ‘Are you paying attention, Grandfather?’”

Zeno's chuckle filled the room, rich and warm.

"Clever boy, he used the mist to his advantage, moving through it like a ghost.”

“I never saw it as a win,” Illumi said with a frown. “You never used nen when you tested me. I wouldn’t have stood a chance if you had.”

“Bah! It was never about winning; it was about learning. And learn you did,” Zeno replied, his eyes twinkling with mirth and pride.

Others chimed in with nods and small smiles. Others apart from the lady of the house.

"It really is quite the marvel, what you have here. You must be proud of this place, Kikyo."

Kikyo’s face was possessed by stillness, unnatural considering the animated demeanor she had displayed until then. 

“Did you find the library to your liking?” she finally asked.

“Yes, of course, the selection of books was most intriguing!” 

"Is that so?" she said, her tone edged with a hint of something sharper. “And tell me, Hisoka, what did you think of Elara’s wedding robe? It’s a very important piece for us."

"Ah, the robe, yes.” Hisoka nodded, playing along. "Truly a masterpiece, so much so that it sparked quite a few ideas for our own ceremony."

An oppressive silence fell instantly. 

The family glared at him with ice in their eyes. Milluki’s smile curled with malice, while Kikyo seemed on the verge of collapse. She clutched at her chest, her distress exaggerated like a scene from an old movie.

Shit, what did I just step into?

“How dare you!!” Kikyo’s hiss sliced through the silence like a lash. 

“I—”

“It shows your true disdain for us!” 

Silva looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “Did you mean that?” 

“You heard him clear as day,” Kikyo said.

“I asked him.” 

"I—" Hisoka swallowed. He was too deep in the lie to confess now, "There was so much to take in today, perhaps I misspoke." The words felt hollow even to him. It was a feeble excuse, but the only one he had. 

"There was no misunderstanding. Clearly, he wishes us harm!" Kikyo's every syllable dripped with venom. Her voice escalated.

Silva eyed Kikyo as if expecting further outbursts, but she merely scoffed and fell silent. 

Turning back to Hisoka, Silva’s tone was grave. “Listen now. This is important.” 

Hisoka gave him a quick nod.

“About 150 years ago, our ancestors planned a union with the Vernavas—assassins like us and trusted friends. To celebrate the upcoming wedding, the Zoldycks hosted a week-long festivity at the manor, inviting the entire village to join.”

A glance at the Zoldycks was enough for Hisoka to know this tale wouldn't end well.

"On her wedding day, Elara Zoldyck stood at the altar in her wedding robe, prepared to marry into the Vernava family. When the ceremony started and the groom walked forward," Silva paused, his voice tense, "he pulled out a hidden knife and stabbed her."

Silva took a sip of wine before continuing.

"At that moment, the Vernavas revealed their true intentions and attacked our ancestors. Many were caught off guard and suffered injuries or death. Later, it was discovered that the Vernavas had always viewed them as competitors, and their plan was to eliminate them and seize the castle."

Hisoka winced internally, now fully understanding the gravity of his mistake.

"While the Zoldycks fought to survive and grieved their lost ones, the villagers took the opportunity to loot their home. The following day, the surviving family members buried their dead and started to build the wall around Kukuroo Mountain."

“So, you see, that robe is more than just a garment, it represents the darkest day in our family’s history. A reminder not to forget our past." Silva narrowed his eyes slightly. "Didn’t Duffy tell you the story?"

Feeling cornered, Hisoka decided to reach for a half-truth. "I must admit, the tour ran long, and I felt quite disheveled after the whole day outdoors. So I asked Duffy for just a brief walkthrough, to have the chance to freshen up before dinner," he explained, infusing his voice with regret.

“I understand.” Silva simply said, unreadable as ever.

"Now in context, I see how disrespectful my remark was. An heirloom so deeply rooted in tragedy shouldn't be spoken of lightly."

"All true, all crucial," Zeno chimed in, “but let’s not dwell on that. We’re here to celebrate, aren’t we?” His eyes twinkled, "So, what grand plans do we have for the wedding? Have you started plotting things out?"

"Indeed, some exciting ideas are taking shape," Hisoka replied, appreciating the change in topic. "Though I must admit, Illumi is the real mastermind here, while I'm mostly just enjoying the thrill of his creativity."

"I’ve been sorting through the details," Illumi said in a measured tone.

"Just yesterday," Hisoka continued, warming to the subject, "he decided on the venue, and we've more or less figured out the menu, the guest list, the honeymoon—" 

"Honeymoon?" Kikyo's posture snapped, a meerkat on alert.

"Yes, two weeks in Jappon," Hisoka answered, his smile wide, a self-satisfied crescent. "In fact, that was the first detail we agreed on, even before we started planning the wedding itself."

"That seems quite extensive," she said, her gaze drifting to Illumi. A faint crease formed between her brows, "Perhaps one week would be more sensible, considering the responsibilities that await at home.”

Illumi’s response was delayed, his throat tightening before he nodded. "Yes. One week could be workable,” he replied, his voice a notch quieter than usual.

Hisoka's heart sank.

What the actual— Just like that? Is he going to give away our plans just like that?

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he caught Kikyo's smug smile. Her satisfaction felt like a slap to his face. That manipulative—

His train of thought was abruptly cut off by the arrival of dessert.

A butler set down a plate with a slice of tart on it. The flaky layers of puff pastry glistened with a sugary glaze, and caramelized pear slices rested on a layer of vanilla bean cream.

As he lifted a forkful to his lips, the sweet and buttery scent wafted up. The dessert crumbled on his tongue.

It was one of the most bitter things Hisoka had ever eaten.

Think, think, think.

I need a word with Illumi alone. But how? With everyone's eyes on us, slipping away would be impossible.

The dinner will probably end soon, and with their overseer’s schemes, there might not be another chance for privacy today, and this—this had to be addressed.

Asking for a word with him? No, out of the question.

Maybe…

An idea began to take root in his mind, perhaps not his most brilliant, but it had potential.

It was now or never.

With a sudden burst of energy, he rose from his seat, capturing the room's attention. 

“You know, I’m something of a magician,” He snapped his fingers and sparks of nen danced in the air. “And this seems like the perfect time to share a trick. But for that I’ll need my trusted assistant,” he said, his gaze drilling into Illumi.

With a moment's hesitation, Illumi stood to join him.

"May I borrow him for a moment?” Hisoka’s tone was casual, but the touch on Illumi’s back was firm. “I need to instruct my assistant, and we’ll return shortly," he said, steering Illumi toward the corridor.

Once hidden from view and out of earshot, Hisoka’s voice dropped to a fierce whisper, “Illumi, what the hell? How could you agree to that without a word to me?”

“You lied,” Illumi shot back, voice low, eyes narrow. "You deceived my mother. So don’t pretend to be innocent—or wronged."  

Hisoka felt a sting at Illumi's words. 

“Are you serious? Can't you see the effort I'm putting in? How hard am I trying?” his voice sharpened despite himself. 

“You lied,” came Illumi’s cold echo.

“And your mother isn’t making it any easier, is she? Always sabotaging—”

“We’re going back,” Illumi said. “I don’t want them to think we’re arguing. Just...” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let's just get through this, okay?” 

Illumi returned to the room. 

Hisoka took a deep breath and followed, plastering his best showman's smile.

“So, who’s ready to see a trick?”

Chapter Text

The morning air was a sharp slap, a bite into his flesh. Right. Fitting. 

Illumi stood still for a moment, letting the chill settle over him like a second skin. Then he began.

One by one, his knives cut through the air, their hungry edges biting into the automatic targets ahead. 

Two butlers, silent and efficient, awakened from their stillness, retrieving the blades and placing them back on a nearby table.

He threw again and again. Soon, a familiar burn carved into his biceps, a soft ache spreading across his shoulders, then penetrating deeper into his body. It felt good to awaken from the inertia of rest; to immerse himself in movement. To turn the mind into a blank slate.

That was until uninvited visions began to prick at him, sharp as mosquito bites.

His mother’s voice.

Hisoka’s smile. 

His mother’s face, tear-streaked.

Hisoka’s eyes on him, distressed.

Hisoka.

Another blade, another throw—sharper, faster.

It veered with a hiss through the air and buried itself in a nearby tree, quivering.

Illumi tightened his grip, feeling a slight tremor in his fingers.

As an assistant moved to retrieve the weapon, Illumi’s hand rose, halting him. "Leave me," he commanded.

The butlers bowed and retreated, leaving their master alone among the whispering trees and his turbulent thoughts.

A sharp breath caught in his throat.

How.

How could he have said no? 

How could he set such a poor example for his siblings, showing that personal desires could outweigh duty—especially now, as they edged toward disobedience? 

And his parents—they were counting on him too. How could he let them down?

It was all logical, yes. Yet, logic offered no reprieve from the events of last night. If anything, it weighed heavier on him now.

There was no enemy to defeat here, no straightforward battle to be won. Only a landscape of impossible choices stretching into a future brimming with similar crossroads.

Illumi felt tempted to call Mike and bury his face in the comfort of his fur, to sink into it as he did when he was small, when failure first gripped his hands. 

But no, he was no longer a child. He was the eldest. He was Hisoka’s intended.

Yes, Hisoka. The man who had disrespected his mother and lied straight to her face—likely on nothing more than a whim. It wasn’t something Illumi could simply overlook.

However, beneath it all, Illumi recognised Hisoka’s efforts. He was trying—that much was clear.

And he supposed it wasn’t easy for him, unfamiliar as he was with such circumstances. He had never had anyone to rely on. To care for.

That. That made him pause. 

In this vast world, he was Hisoka’s family, the only one he had.

And that look—the one Hisoka cast him, one of wounded betrayal…

He shook his head. No, there was simply no other path. In time, Hisoka would understand. He always did.

He told himself this as he stepped forward to retrieve the blade embedded in the tree, yanking it free with a tug. After returning the knife to its deadly companions, he decided: it was time to find him.

They needed to talk, to sort this out—even though it would be challenging, even if he couldn't grant him what he truly wanted. 

They had overcome so much already, and they would get through this too.

As they always had—together.

~~~

Illumi walked toward the kitchen, following the smell of bacon, toast, and coffee—and even more so, the familiar sing-song voice carrying through the air.

“...so you see, it doesn’t only have the property of gum...”

Illumi stepped into the room and found Hisoka and Kalluto seated side by side. Kalluto sipped his juice through a straw, observing Hisoka as he spoke. The magician punctuated his words with bites of a half-eaten croissant, scattering crumbs left and right. When some landed near Kalluto, he gathered them with his fingertips and placed them on a free coaster. 

The scene almost coaxed a smile from Illumi. Almost. 

“Good morning, Onii-sama,” Kalluto greeted him.

“Morning,” Hisoka added with that familiar tilt of his head.

“Good morning,” Illumi said, pulling out a chair and settling beside them at the kitchen table. As he did, his gaze drifted towards Hisoka. 

He tried to peel through the layers of his expression, probing the contours of a smile that might mean everything or nothing—the kind reserved for the public eye. It was then that he spotted the bandage wrapped around Hisoka’s thumb. Illumi raised a brow.

“Ah, that?” Hisoka said, waving his bandaged finger in the air. “I was a bit clumsy with the bread knife this morning,” he laughed, “too focused on explaining and not enough on slicing”.

Illumi nodded and absentmindedly reached for a slice of toast. 

He started thinking of ways to grant them privacy, something innocent enough to give them a pretext to be alone. And then maybe—

"You know, Illumi, I came across an interesting read today—about the importance of promises in relationships," Hisoka said, refilling his coffee cup. “It seems there’s quite a consensus that failing to keep them can really wear down trust, no matter how strong the bond.”

Illumi’s hand froze, toast halfway to his mouth. “Is that so?” He cast a quick glance at Kalluto, who appeared absorbed in his breakfast, unaware.

"Yes, indeed. The article really laid out the consequences of neglecting commitments. Of course, it’s not all lost causes, repentance can be quite effective—especially if the other party is gracious enough to forgive," Hisoka said, reclining in his chair with his hands stretched behind his head.

"From what I understand," Illumi said slowly, "what really breaks trust isn’t broken promises—it’s lying. Intentional, unashamed lies."

"Interesting perspective. But consider this—hypothetically speaking. What would you do if you knew your loved one preferred certain truths to stay hidden? Is it still a lie, or a necessary discretion?"

Illumi's jaw clenched subtly. 

Clunk.  

His coffee cup landed on the coaster, a touch too forcefully.

Kalluto looked up with a puzzled expression. Illumi scolded himself for the slip.

“But I bet we’re boring you with this,” Illumi said to Kalluto, managing a smile that he hoped didn't look as strained as it felt. “Let’s leave it at that.”

The breakfast continued in relative silence. 

When Hisoka finished his meal, he fixed Illumi with a look that grated on his nerves and rhythmically tapped his fork against his plate—tik-tik-tik. Illumi felt the impulse to snatch it and throw it away, or perhaps stab it somewhere.

His previous inclination to approach him with understanding evaporated into nothingness.

Footsteps approached, and a butler appeared in the doorway. "Madame Kikyo requests everyone to gather in an hour in the backyard for a game of malletique,” he announced, bowing slightly before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.

"What kind of game is it, anyway?" 

Illumi dabbed his lips with a napkin. "You'll see." 

“But what about the outfit? I don’t think I have anything suitable for an outdoor game.”

“You will manage, I’m sure.” Illumi rose, his chair scraping softly against the floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Hisoka's eyes followed him, the corner of his mouth twitching as if debating whether to press further or not. In the end, he said nothing.

Illumi left the kitchen. His strides were brusque as he navigated through the corridors of the house and toward his bedroom.

How could he— 

The soft patter behind him made Illumi pause and turn. Although Kalluto's footsteps were hushed, they still reached his ears. Clearly, he needed more practice.

"Kalluto, what’s on your mind?" Illumi asked, trying to sound calm and welcoming.

Kalluto took a hesitant step forward, his eyes briefly touching the floor before settling on Illumi's. “Onii-sama,” he began, his fingers twisting the hem of his kimono. “I...” His voice faltered. 

“Yes?” 

“I need to—I…” Kalluto paused, his lips parting as if to say something, then pressing together. “I just wanted to wish you good luck with the game," he said.

"Thank you," Illumi replied, with a brief touch to his shoulder. "I’ll see you out there."

With that, Illumi turned and walked away, his silhouette soon blending into the shadows of the hallway.

~~~

Hisoka’s steps were rapid and decisive, each footfall a too-quiet punctuation on the corridor’s floor. He missed the staccato of his heels.

His mind buzzed.

Honestly, he had no issue admitting when he’d messed up, it wasn’t like him to play the flawless card. He was ready to admit his misstep at breakfast—if only Illumi would recognise his own.

God, he didn’t even expect an outright apology, knowing the word ‘sorry’ could hardly pass through Illumi’s mouth. Just a hint of acknowledgment would’ve been enough. But nooooo, Mr. Perfect Almighty couldn’t possibly be wrong, could he?

And he could even let it slide if it were anything else.

But he had promised.

He promised two weeks exclusively for each other, not even a sniff of a mission. 

Stepping out of the house, he flagged down a butler who was watering the plants. “Where’s Duffy?”

“Down this way, sir,” the man pointed. “You will find him by the caves.” 

Hisoka followed the narrow path into the forest, his thoughts taking over once more. 

How easily Illumi had folded. A whisper of opposition from his mother and he bent like grass in the wind. It was just… It simply wasn't him.

Not only this spineless concession, but the entire way he acted around his family—fading into the background, his colors bleeding out, his edges blurring. And he did this to himself. He.

Passing another servant, Hisoka felt that old, familiar itch—the need to let off steam.

The man was nothing, a weakling, but he was perfect for his current disposition. He wasn't in the mood for challenges. He was in the mood to feel the crunch beneath his shoes.

No. He was angry at him, obviously, but even now—

He paced, each step fueling an internal debate where he tried to make his point clear, to make him understand. Yet, even in these mental rehearsals, Illumi remained uncooperative.

Suddenly, a sharp sting struck his back. He whipped around. Nothing. No one.

Switching to Gyo, he scanned the area, his eyes darting from tree to tree, seeking any hidden presence. Still—nothing.

He crouched to retrieve the object that had hit him—a pine cone. He tossed it in the air a few times, lost in thought. He continued on his path, this time at a slower pace, intermittently watching his surroundings, alert to every rustle.

Not long after, Hisoka heard the sounds of playful scuffles and whimpers. He followed them until he reached a clearing and spotted the cave entrance, where Duffy was crouching and tending to a trio of wolf cubs eating from a bowl.

"Ah, Mr. Hisoka!" Duffy’s voice rang out, rich and warm like a campfire in the frosty morning air. "Come to see the little ones?"

Hisoka stepped closer, observing as the cubs tumbled over one another to reach the food. "What’s the occasion for this little feast?" 

“Their mother is recovering,” Duffy said, guiding a straggler back toward the bowl. “I patched her up, but it will take some time before she can hunt again. Without a bit of a push, the little ones would have faced certain death.”

“What happened to the mother?” Hisoka asked, squinting into the gloom of the cave.

“She broke her leg—hard to say exactly how—and after that, she was rejected by the pack.” Duffy’s face grew somber. “You see, a wolf that strays or can’t contribute... Well…” He scratched his head.

“The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.”

“Exactly,” Duffy said with a nod. “It’s all about the balance. Give to the pack what you hunted, and the pack gives back. It protects you, gives you a place to be. It’s harsh but fair in its own way.”

“Fascinating,” Hisoka said, eager to change the subject. “Duffy, I need your help. There’s a game of malletique coming up, and I’m clueless—not to mention outfit-less. Can you help me out?”

“Of course, Mr. Hisoka! Follow me, and we’ll get you sorted out.” Duffy jumped to his feet and dusted off his pants with a hearty clap. “And as for malletique, can’t say I’ve played it myself, but it reminds me a bit of a game from back home. Ever heard of croquet?”

~~~

Hisoka moved across the Zoldyck estate's backyard, a small, pale speck against the vast green. 

His steps pressed into the immaculately groomed grass, each one producing a soft, satisfying crunch beneath his shoes. The air, fragrant with the scent of just-cut grass and newly bloomed flowers, caressed him as he walked. 

He was dressed all in white, with a collared polo shirt, trousers, and flat-soled loafers. Hisoka was well acquainted with the cuts that flattered his form, the styles that celebrated his personality, and this ensemble achieved neither. It was more sack than clothing.

Typically, even the simplest outfits were an occasion to sculpt his appearance, tastefully or daringly, depending on the mood and occasion. However, the family's wardrobe offered little to no choice. Among the extras—either way too small or too large—this was the only piece that came close to fitting, though it still hung a size too large. He toyed with the idea of borrowing something from Illumi but—

No matter. He made do with what he had, applying a few styling tricks to make the outfit less displeasing and topping his look with a classic sun hat as a small consolation prize.

From a distance, he observed the Zoldycks, or at least some of them, standing like ivory sculptures. Alongside them, several butlers in white uniforms moved about, some carrying equipment, others standing by, ready to spring into action at a command or a tilt of the head.

How quintessentially Zoldyck. 

Hisoka approached the designated spot and swept his gaze over the playing field, enclosed by sculpted topiaries. It featured a green, slalom-like path with hoops positioned along it, flanked by ditches on both sides. Near these, the terrain—bare earth dotted with small tufts of grass—appeared markedly more chaotic than the rest of the well-groomed landscape.

He smoothed his outfit with a quick tug and made his way towards the group.

"Seems I’m just in time," Hisoka called out as he approached. The Zoldycks acknowledged him with moderate politeness—Silva, Kalluto, and Zeno.

"I expected you’d arrive earlier to learn the rules," Silva said.

No thanks. Hisoka had no interest in repeating past discomforts, so he settled on a new rule: arriving just in time.

“Duffy helped me to find the right outfit, it was quite the quest,” he explained, his smile breezy, “but no worries, I’m a fast learner. I'll pick it up in no time".

With a nod from Silva, Kalluto stepped forward.

His kimono, pristine white, was graced by light gray cranes, brushed so tenderly onto the fabric they appeared as mere whispers of birds. 

“Hisoka-san, let me explain the rules,” Kalluto gestured toward the field. “Each player will take turns hitting their ball through the course laid out by these hoops. The goal is to pass through each one in the correct sequence and reach the end.”

When discussing the game, Kalluto’s customary reserve seemed to melt away, revealing a livelier, more confident bearing. 

“But it’s not as simple as it looks. You have to beware of the—”

“Well, here you are!” Kikyo’s sing-song voice carried across the lawn as she approached. She brought her hands together with a clap. “All ready for the game?”

Responses varied from noncommittal hums to a few clear affirmatives. 

In her flowing white dress, Kikyo carried herself with the confidence of a queen. The layers of delicate silk swept past the butlers as she issued directives, sending them into a flurry of activity.

Once again, we gather at the court of Queen Kikyo. But if she thinks I'm playing the fool, she's in for a surprise.

There, next to her, was Illumi. 

Illumi, with a clenched jaw and eyes narrowed just so. Illumi with his hands tightened just enough for Hisoka to notice, only for him to feel the projection of his simmering displeasure.

Not in a good mood, are we? 

Hisoka met Illumi's stern gaze with a wry smile. In response, Illumi turned away and joined the rest of his family, who were already arming themselves with mallets. Hisoka followed suit, picking up one for himself and casually swinging it in the air to test its weight and balance. 

The balls were assigned: red for Silva, yellow for Zeno, blue for Kalluto, black for Hisoka, and white for Illumi.

Noticing Kikyo standing apart and observant, Hisoka asked, “Kikyo, aren’t you joining the game?”

She turned her visor toward him.

"Today I’ll just watch. I always appreciate the chance to observe a novice in action," she replied, settling into a seat at the field's edge. "I trust your enthusiasm carries well into the game." 

Within moments, a butler approached and placed a glass of red wine on a table next to her.

"I’ll try my best to make the game worth watching then," he said with a smile. Then he added, "And Milluki? Is he not coming?”

"He had a bad tummy ache; he tends to have them, poor boy. I’m always telling him to stop eating those cheap snacks, but he just doesn’t listen! The butlers keep finding empty packets all around."

"What an unfortunate situation." 

Kikyo sighed and took a sip of her wine. With the conversation apparently over, Hisoka turned his attention elsewhere.

While the others were chatting and preparing for the game, Hisoka took the opportunity to observe the field from a different perspective. Both Duffy and Kalluto had mentioned that the goal was to shoot the ball through the hoops, a task that seemed all too straightforward—wouldn't the game end too quickly? However, upon examining the setup, Hisoka revised his initial judgment. Spaced far apart and barely larger than the ball, the hoops made a clean shot nearly impossible (without cheating).

Silva stepped up first. His mallet connected with the ball with a solid thump, sending it rolling across the grass to stop two-thirds of the way toward the first hoop.

Hisoka watched from the sidelines, taking mental notes.

Next, Zeno took his position and struck his ball in a similar fashion, landing it not far from Silva’s.

He turned to Hisoka. "Show us how it's done, magician. Perhaps you have a trick for this as well?"

"No tricks, just fair play," Hisoka replied, flashing a grin as he sauntered to the start point. "I believe I’m a natural at any kind of game." 

Feeling the urge for a bold move, Hisoka instead opted for strategy over showmanship, mimicking the veterans' measured approaches. He aimed and swung. However, the ball did not cooperate as he had envisioned—it veered off its intended path, landing close to the ditch.

“Perhaps sticking to your tricks isn't such a bad idea after all,” Zeno observed.

"Let's remain hopeful, Zeno. I’m sure the boy will do much better next round," Kikyo said. 

Hisoka's gaze darted to her. There was mockery in the slight press of her lips.

"That’s right, I’m just getting started," Hisoka said, less confidently than he would have liked, his attention momentarily captured by Illumi’s impassive expression as they switched places.

Both Illumi and later Kalluto played their turns in an uneventful fashion. Their balls ended up clustered with the others, about a third of the way to the first hoop.

The game advanced to the second round.

Silva opted for a gentle tap to position himself near the hoop for his next turn, while Zeno executed a forceful stroke that sent his ball through the first gate.

Boredom crept into Hisoka. The game was dull.

Growing restless with the sluggish pace, he lined up for a bold shot, aiming to sink it in a single attempt. His strike was firm, but luck was not on his side. The ball hit the metal edge and rebounded, coming to rest even farther away than before.

Damn it.

Illumi was next. Hisoka expected him to go directly for the hoop, but he had other plans. 

With one calculated hit, he struck Hisoka’s ball, sending it flying off the field as his own recoiled.

The black sphere careened into the ditch, detonating on impact. A plume of dirt and grass shot skyward, along with shards of Hisoka’s obliterated ball. 

Hisoka jumped back. He looked up and saw Illumi watching him with a thin, satisfied smile.

So that’s how you want to play it, huh?

Without missing a beat, a butler fetched a new black ball and placed it at the starting line. Meanwhile, Illumi took an extra shot, and conquered the first hoop.

"Wait a moment," Hisoka said, his gaze darting around before settling on Kalluto. "What just happened here?"

"Every time a ball falls into the ditch, it explodes, requiring the player to restart from the last hoop passed,” Kalluto explained. “Striking an opponent's ball is risky but rewarding—if you succeed, you gain an extra move in your round."

"Exploding balls, huh?" Hisoka's eyebrow arched. "That spices things up."

Now, it was Kalluto’s turn. He aimed at Silva's ball, but the impact caused his own to veer off course and into the ditch. A blast followed, sending a fresh shower of dirt into the air. Hisoka observed as a slight frown appeared on Kalluto's porcelain-smooth face.

The game continued, intensified. What had started as a simple activity had evolved into a tactical battle, with each section of the field becoming a potential minefield. Hisoka's thrill was undeniable.

Now fully engaged, conquering each hoop felt like a triumph, each act of controlled destruction and confrontation a delightful affair.

Amidst the mallets striking balls and spirited chatter, it became effortless to exist here, easy to forget that, when all was said and done, he was the one sidestepping family entanglements, and they, too, did not desire his involvement.

For now, all this was set aside.

He had reached the sixth hoop and felt he had really gotten a handle on the game. 

His clashes with Illumi were frequent, with each initiating confrontations as much as the other. He tried to outmaneuver Illumi—the cold strategist, precise but playing it safe—while he, on the other hand, loved pushing both their balls to the limits. 

Sometimes he succeeded in sending Illumi’s ball off course. Other times, he ended up there himself, with Illumi or alone. The thrill of the chase, the rush of narrowly escaping a trap, brought a smile to Hisoka’s face—one of the first genuine ones since he got here. And when he caught Illumi’s eye, he could swear he was enjoying the game just as much.

The game progressed to the 7th round, and it was evident how much smaller the patch of green had become and how the ditches were starting to close up, making the game even more challenging and competitive than before.

Silva stepped up for his turn. He eyed the field with consideration, then executed his stroke, guiding the ball through the eighth hoop. "Great shot," Kikyo applauded. 

Hisoka glanced her way. She appeared more at ease since the last few rounds.

Zeno followed. 

He stretched his fingers, gripped his mallet, and took his position. “Time to show you youngsters how it's done.” With that, he targeted Illumi's white ball, knocking it into the ditch in an explosive detour.

Taking advantage of his extra move, Zeno lined up his ball for a better shot in the upcoming round.

Hisoka assumed his position, mallet twirling playfully, "well Zeno, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't rise to defend my partner’s honor?"

“Go ahead,” Zeno gestured, toward his ball, "though I doubt it'll be of any help to him now." 

At this, Illumi's lips pursed into a sullen pout—an absolutely adorable one.

Hisoka concentrated, angling for the perfect strike. 

His shot, however, missed its mark—not just Zeno's ball but the entire playing area. The sphere flew at high speed past the ditch to the sidelines—straight toward Kikyo’s table.

It smashed into a table leg with a loud clack. 

The jolt toppled her wine glass, which shattered on impact, sending shards flying all around. Red wine spluttered and bled onto her pristine white dress.

All was quiet, then her shout pierced the air.

Kikyo stood abruptly, her visor emitting sharp beeps as she looked down at the spreading stain. Butlers swarmed like bees jolted from their hive, scrambling to clean up the chaos that pooled at her feet. The Zoldycks darted glances.

When she lifted her gaze to his, her lips parted to reveal nothing but teeth—small and clenched. 

That instant confirmed what Hisoka had known all along—beneath the layers of silk and practiced grace, she was no Madame. She was something wilder. Something eager to strike him, tear through his flesh, and savage his throat.

Her aura pulsed. 

A burst of emotions left Hisoka speechless. It was entrancing, disastrous, exciting and— 

And Illumi’s gaze—tightened around him like a wire leash. "My sincerest apologies, Kikyo. It appears my aim was off," he said, adding a small nod. 

He offered her a handkerchief, but she smacked it away. 

“Are you seeing this? The way he insulted me?” she said to Silva.

Illumi spoke in a hushed voice, "He said it was accidental. He would never do something like this intentionally".

"How could that be accidental? HOW?" She turned to him. "It was on purpose!"

"I swear, Kikyo—"

"Ahh!!!" She pivoted on her heel and strode off.

Silva and Illumi followed her. 

Hisoka leaned forward to go along, but Zeno stopped him. "Give her time," he advised.

Hisoka walked to a nearby bench and sat down, watching the Zoldycks shrink into distant points before vanishing from view. The butlers busied themselves cleaning up after the game.

It was a strange place to be, the estate. Vast but suffocating, lonely but always watching.

With the point of his shoe, he hollowed out the earth beneath the immaculate grass.

All this.

All this was a disaster wrapped in discomfort, tied together with a ribbon of awkwardness.

Not that he—

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

He nearly jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen—an unknown number. 

"Hello?"

"Hey there, pervert." 

"Milluki, I presume? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just thought I'd congratulate you on that little stunt during the game," Milluki replied. There was a crunch punctuating his words. "Real classy, ruining Mama's dress like that."  

"Ah, so you noticed?" Hisoka glanced around the grounds, switching to Gyo. "I'm surprised you did, given that you were oh so sick."

"Look up," Milluki said.

Hisoka’s gaze lifted and locked onto one of the upper windows of the manor. There stood Milluki. He shoved a handful of snacks into his mouth and raised a middle finger in Hisoka's direction.

"Charming," Hisoka remarked.

"Listen up," Milluki said. "You might think you have something on me, but I've got resources too. And let me tell you, I'm just getting started, but I already have enough to make things very uncomfortable for you."

"Oh? I'm flattered that you find me so intriguing. Though, if you wanted to know more about me, you could've just asked. I’m an open book.”

"Take this seriously!"

"Believe me, I'm all ears," Hisoka replied, his tone silky smooth. "Do go on."

"What I mean is: back off. You keep your mouth shut, and I'll do the same."

Hisoka didn’t particularly like being blackmailed, or rather, the attempt at it. Personally, he had no problem divulging his history on his own, but he knew certain deeds from the past could be interpreted as unsavory by Illumi’s parents. Harmful for Illumi.

"And here I thought we were just having a bit of fun. But if I must, I’ll comply, given our family ties.”

“WE ARE NOT FAMILY!” Milluki shouted. "And you know what? I don't even need to expose you. You've been doing a pretty good job of screwing things up all on your own. At this rate, Illumi will kick you to the curb before your stay is up, and I won’t even have to lift a finger."

“I value your brotherly concern,” Hisoka said, his tone ice-cold. “However, I would advise you not to speculate or interfere in my affairs with Illumi. That would be unwise.”

“Pff,” Milluki shrugged, cramming more snacks into his mouth. “Enjoy the rest of your stay—while it lasts."

With that, he ended the call and pulled the curtains closed.

Hisoka saved the number under ‘Mini Menace’ and stood up. 

He would need to consider his next steps regarding Illumi, Kikyo, and the rest of the Zoldycks. 

But for now, he had one immediate task.

Getting rid of this awful outfit.

~~~

Illumi sank into the chair at his desk, clicked on his phone, and stared at the time: 2:36 AM.

Sleep had already declared its absence for the night, so all that remained was to keep his hands and mind busy.

Until now, he had tried a few things. After lying in bed and scrolling through emails, checking the whereabouts of his future targets, he reached for a book on advanced toxin extraction—one of his favorites. However, the text blurred into meaningless shapes. After the fourth attempt at reading a single sentence, he closed the book and put it away.

Then, he reorganized his pins, shifting from a size-based system to one defined by function. Poison-coated needles now stood in neat rows next to immobilizing pins, surgical ones, and so on.

(Eventually, he reverted to the original arrangement. The new method seemed too chaotic.) 

He missed work. 

His eyes kept returning to the files, as though expecting them to call for him at any moment—a report to file, a future job to outline. Yet everything lay in order, each document neatly sorted. All that remained was a stack of white paper.

Paper…

This sparked an idea. Origami. Kalluto had introduced him to the concept not long ago, demonstrating how to create various intricate forms out of nothing. Perhaps it was worth a try.

He picked up a sheet and tried to retrace his brother’s instructions: start with a square base, fold diagonally, create a valley fold here, a mountain fold there. He followed as best he could, but soon, discrepancies emerged. What was meant to be a rabbit looked like a misshapen lump.

He crumpled and tossed it into the bin. Undeterred, he took another sheet and started again.

Fold by fold, he reconstructed the figure, and soon a creature that vaguely resembled a rabbit was born out of paper. The ears were uneven, the body lopsided.

Slightly encouraged, Illumi reached for another piece of paper, this time opting for a crane.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his activity. Illumi tensed. He knew exactly who was at the door.

Rising from the chair, he moved to open the door just enough to see Hisoka standing there in his pajamas, illuminated by the pale light of the hallway lamps. His expression was serious. 

"May I come in?" 

Illumi hesitated. At this hour, there were no butlers inside the house, and the other inhabitants' auras had been subdued by sleep. Nonetheless, he cast a cautious look around before stepping aside to let Hisoka in.

"Couldn't sleep?" Hisoka ventured.

"No," Illumi said. "You?"

"Same." Hisoka leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on him. "We need to talk," he sighed. "We can't keep going like this. We need to address it."

Illumi stiffened. "You're the one who keeps causing problems." 

"Me?" Hisoka raised an eyebrow. "I think we both share responsibility. You didn’t have to agree when your mother asked to split our honeymoon in half.”

"It's different. She's my mother. She expects—"

"She expects to control every aspect of your life," Hisoka interjected. "And you're letting her."

"Watch your words." 

"Or what? You'll glare me to death?" 

In a flash, Illumi closed the distance between them, gripping Hisoka's shirt and pushing him against the wall. "You really don't know when to keep quiet," Illumi hissed, their faces inches apart.

"It appears you're the one making noise," Hisoka retorted calmly. "Pinning me against walls—what would your mommy say?"

"Enough!" 

For a moment, they stood there, silent. Hisoka held up his hands in mock surrender.

Illumi's heartbeat quickened as the warmth of Hisoka's breath grazed his skin. 

He took half a step back, loosening his hold.

Before Illumi could react, Hisoka had him with his back on the floor, straddling his waist and pinning his hands firmly above his head.

"Let go!" 

"See? This is what I mean," Hisoka said. "We can't have a real conversation if you shut down every time I mention your family."

Illumi attempted to squirm free, but it soon became clear that his efforts were not yielding the intended results. The friction, the way Hisoka’s weight pressed down on him, his warmth, his scent—it was all too familiar, causing his body to react accordingly. Surprisingly, Hisoka seemed unfocused on his reaction.

"Look, you made that clear. I know your family is important to you.” Hisoka pressed on, “but I didn't realize you'd let them control every aspect of your life—including us."

Illumi snapped, "Should I treat them like you do? Without an ounce of respect?”

"That’s rich," Hisoka scoffed. "I'm not the one being rude. Can't you see how they treat me? How they treat you?"

"Don’t you dare talk about them like that."

"Why not? It's the truth," Hisoka shot back. "And you know what? I'll say it out loud: your mother is pushing me to my limits."

With a burst of strength, Illumi twisted free. 

They wrestled on the floor, neither willing to back down. Their bodies clashed again and again as they fought for dominance.

"You did that on purpose? The wine?" 

"No! Of course not!" Hisoka said with a heavy breath. "Why would I— ugh. It was an accident!” 

After a swift maneuver, Illumi pinned Hisoka face-down, gripping his wrists tightly. "You've made it clear—you don't want to be here, to be part of this family."

Illumi's hips began to move on their own, pressing and rubbing against Hisoka. 

Hisoka's breath hitched. "Illumi..."

"You keep acting out." 

It felt good. Too good. Illumi found himself grinding harder.

“Come on, Illumi, I’m being a good boy, you know I am,” Hisoka whined, meeting the friction. “I’m following all your rules.”

"Do you expect me to thank you? For doing what should be your basic duty as my future husband?"

“You’re not being fair.”

“You like it,” Illumi reached down to grip Hisoka’s dick, eliciting a moan.

“That’s not fair, either,” Hisoka gasped.

Illumi's thoughts became increasingly muddled, in that familiar, exhilarating way.

He freed Hisoka's hands and began to pull down his pants, but the magician reached behind and halted him.

"Not in the mood?" Illumi asked, stopping as well, surprised.

"Always, but—"

"But?"

"I wouldn’t want to break your chastity rule, the one you oh so clearly established."

“I only made that rule for you, not for myself,”

“Of course.” Hisoka chuckled. “Silly me.”

Without a word, Illumi stood and headed to the bathroom, leaving behind Hisoka and his quiet little noises of discontent. He looked around, searching for something appropriate for the situation, and settled on a bottle of coconut oil. He picked it up.

Returning, he was pleased to find Hisoka just as he left him, minus the clothing. Along the way, he grabbed a pillow from his bed and tossed it to him.

"You're loud," Illumi noted. "Keep quiet."

"And if I don't?"

Illumi straddled him and leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You want me to use my pins, don’t you? Control you, use you, maybe not let you come at all? Is that what you want?" 

Hisoka shuddered beneath him. "Yes, Illumi…please…" He tried to reach for a kiss, but Illumi pulled back.

"Too bad. You didn’t earn my pins today. If you're loud, I'll just stop."

“Cruel as ever,” Hisoka said. “I’ll comply, my little god of death.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Hisoka buried his face into the pillow, muffling a dissatisfied sound, but he arched his back, invitingly. 

Illumi slowly slid downward, tracing a finger down Hisoka's spine and sensing the eagerness beneath his touch. Suddenly, he bit into the milky skin of Hisoka's upper thigh, observing his reaction.

Hisoka's breath hitched, but he remained quiet. 

Good.

Illumi dispensed a few drops of oil onto his fingers and pushed one into Hisoka's entrance. He worked him open and soon added a second, scissoring them inside. He watched Hisoka shiver under his methodical touch, his body expressing what his mouth could not. 

Amid the fog of desire and haste, a thought crystallized. How strange it was—his childhood room, and having him here. Inappropriate. Exciting. 

A few years earlier, a different version of himself had existed in this place—one who hadn't yet learned to want, who could effortlessly imagine a life without Hisoka and all that he brought to it.

Now, that person felt like a stranger, with thoughts and motivations that were difficult to recall, and harder still to make sense of. Remembering days without Hisoka was like trying to trace faded ink.

“Illumi…” The plea was soft, muffled through the pillow.

Illumi withdrew his fingers from Hisoka’s tightness. 

He stripped off his pajamas, already soaked with drops of his eagerness, and poured more oil directly onto his cock, spreading it evenly with a few pumps.

Hisoka bucked his hips upward, inviting him. Illumi, in turn, took his time, drawing out each second despite his own desires. 

He crouched, possessive and primal, over Hisoka's prone body, pressing against him and aligning his cock with his entrance. He pushed inside.

From there, all restraint was lost. Illumi plunged in with deep, fervent thrusts that mirrored Hisoka’s hunger.

Beneath him, Hisoka clutched the pillow harder; his rustled breath had grown into stifled moans, though still quiet enough.

Illumi shifted his position, reducing the skin-to-skin contact as he rose slightly. He balanced himself with one hand on the floor, while the other reached for Hisoka's strawberry-red hair, gripping it and lifting his head. Hisoka bit his lip.

With the last of his clear thoughts, Illumi realized how much he enjoyed seeing him like this. 

“I missed you,” Illumi said suddenly, surprising even himself.

Hisoka didn’t reply, but his muscles clenched and tightened around him. Illumi released his grip, allowing Hisoka to bury his face in the pillow as his body trembled, unraveling beneath him.

To Illumi, Hisoka’s response was as clear as an 'I miss you too’.

Illumi slid out of him, kneeled above, and started stroking himself. He parted Hisoka’s cheeks to reveal his flushed entrance. After a few movements, he came, spilling over and around it. Guiding himself back inside, Illumi reentered Hisoka for a few languid thrusts.

Finally, he collapsed onto his back, catching his breath. 

"That was fun," Hisoka chuckled into the pillow. He lifted his head, looking at him. "How about a shared shower?"

"Hmm," Illumi responded noncommittally, but he soon rose and helped Hisoka up, who was still a bit shaky from it all.

They made their way to the bathroom adjoining Illumi's room—simple and spacious. Illumi turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable warmth. 

Once ready, he stepped under the cascade of warm water, and Hisoka followed suit.

Illumi reached for a bottle of shower gel, but Hisoka snatched it from his hand. “Oh, what’s this?” Hisoka asked, opening the cap to sniff it.

"Green tea and bergamot. It's good for the skin."

"Hmm, you do have nice skin," Hisoka glided a fingernail across Illumi's chest.

"Be happy with what you got. Flattery won’t get you anywhere." 

"Can't blame a man for trying," Hisoka chuckled.

They stood side by side in comfortable silence, lathering soap through hair and over skin. The air around them sweetened, perfumed by the scent of their shared products. 

"Illumi." 

"Yes?"

"I want you to know that I'm really trying," Hisoka said, "to fit in with your family. But it's—well, it's not exactly a walk in the park.”

Illumi glared at him, waiting.

“It feels like no one wants me here—except maybe Zeno."

"They are wary of outsiders. It's not personal." 

Hisoka gave a wry smile. "Feels pretty personal when your future mother-in-law wants you six feet under."

Deny it. Defend her. Distrust him.

No, stop this.

He’s not a suspect. He’s your chosen partner. He’s reaching out. Listen to him. Trust him.

"I'll talk to her. See if I can ease the tension."

"I can try apologizing again.” Hisoka motioned for Illumi to turn around, beginning to soap his back. "Though I doubt it'll make much difference." 

"It’s worth trying. We need to fix this.”

"I'll do my best." 

They began rinsing off. Illumi stepped fully under the flow of water, savoring how the warmth seeped deep into his muscles, refreshing him, making him feel brand new.

After a moment's enjoyment, he spoke up. 

"About our honeymoon," he began.

"What about it?" 

"I know you wanted the full two weeks, but I can’t undo that. We have to make do with one."

“Hmm.” 

"But I've decided we should go to Eropue, since that was your top choice."

Hisoka rinsed the last of the soap from his hair. The silence felt oppressive.

"And,” Illumi added quickly, “I'm open to letting you plan some of the itinerary".

"Look," Hisoka said, his voice firm, making Illumi's heart skip a beat, "you know where I stand. I won't pretend I'm suddenly happy about losing half our holiday." He locked eyes with Illumi. “But I see you’re trying. And that counts. We're good". 

"Thank you for being flexible." Illumi stepped closer for a kiss, soft and brief. “And for all your efforts. They haven’t gone unnoticed".

When they stepped out of the shower, they did so in good moods. The world seemed softer for a moment, eased by the thoughts they had let go of and the familiarity of their shared routine.

After toweling off, Hisoka picked up some of Illumi’s hair lotion (he allowed it) and began working it through his damp hair.  

"There's something else," Hisoka said.

"What is it?" Illumi asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"I can't quite pinpoint it, but something feels off," Hisoka admitted. "At first, I thought it was a series of coincidences, but little things keep happening. Like during today’s game—I swear I didn’t hit the ball that hard."

“Hmm,” Illumi tapped his lip thoughtfully. “While I take your observations seriously, you must admit this is one of the most secure places in the world. I didn't sense anything unusual either—during the game or otherwise.”

“I know, I know.” Hisoka sighed. “But there’s something weird going on, believe me. It feels like something is messing with me. Could it be something I brought here unknowingly? Maybe… a ghost?”

Illumi raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "A ghost?"

"Stranger things have happened." 

"Let them come then. I'm not afraid of ghosts," Illumi responded teasingly. "And neither should you, Heaven’s Arena Master."

“Ha ha, very funny.” 

"Anyway," Illumi said, his tone shifting to serious, “let’s stay alert. I’ll keep an eye out too. Let me know if anything else happens".

“Will do.”

They returned to the bedroom. Hisoka retrieved his pajamas while Illumi selected a fresh set, noting that the one he had previously stripped off had partially slipped under the bed.

As he dressed, he heard Hisoka's voice behind him.

"Isn't that cute?" 

Illumi pivoted to see the paper rabbit resting in Hisoka’s outstretched hand.

"Just something Kalluto taught me."

"I think I'll take that as a souvenir, along with… these!” Hisoka snatched a pair of small scissors. “I swear I packed some in my luggage, but I can't find them anywhere."

"Go ahead," Illumi approached him and drew him close by the waist. "But before you go..."

They shared a few kisses—proper ones. 

Starting with an 'it's-good-to-finally-be-near-you' kind of kiss, followed by a 'do-you-know-that-you’re-my-almost-husband?' one, and ending with a 'not-everything-is-going-as-planned-but-I-love-you-and-we-will-get-through-this-together' type.

When it ended, Hisoka slipped out of the room. 

Just like before, the hallway was quiet and still.

Illumi watched him go and then turned toward his bed. 

The weight of the day felt lighter now, and as he settled under the sheets, sleep came more easily than he expected.

Chapter Text

Illumi paused outside Hisoka's room, perhaps a moment too long. 

Until now, he had mostly kept his distance to avoid misinterpretations, even if his visits amounted to nothing more than a knock and a few words at the door. 

But recent days had taken their toll. He felt weary of the stolen glimpses, rushed encounters, and a lack of privacy that had only recently come to his attention.

Last night, they had reclaimed their usual closeness, and now Illumi wanted to hold onto it, even if that meant something as simple as starting their morning with a companionable walk to breakfast.  

He raised his hand and knocked. 

Hisoka answered at once: no makeup, as Illumi kept insisting, and a cascade of red strands, styled at his own whim. The baby-blue shirt he had selected fit him well, collar loose, its color pleasing against his skin. “I thought I heard you lurking.”

"I don't lurk," Illumi said. "Ready for breakfast?"

Hisoka leaned in and whispered, "As ready as I'll ever be in this house." 

Illumi glanced around to check if anyone was within earshot. 

"Shall we?" Hisoka extended his arm in an old-fashioned gesture, and Illumi accepted, slipping his arm through his.

They walked side by side, unhurried, chatting along the way. From the hallway's end, a butler approached and bowed.

"Master Illumi, Mr. Hisoka, breakfast is served in the sunroom this morning." 

Illumi acknowledged him with a nod, and the butler left their sight.

"The sunroom? What happened to the kitchen?" 

"Usually, it's just Kalluto and me who use it for breakfast. And Milluki, if he decides to come down,” Illumi said. “Mother prefers a more formal setting when she attends."

"What about Zeno and Silva?”

"They favor the sunroom as well, but it's unlikely you'll see them."

"Why's that?"

"They’re early risers." 

They entered the sunroom, one of Illumi's favorite spaces. Floor-to-ceiling windows encircled the room, and before them, an abundance of plants formed a verdant curtain. Their foliage sculpted the sunlight into soft beams that stretched across the room.

At the center stood the table—a smaller sibling to the vast one in the dining hall, yet still large enough to accommodate the entire family and possible guests. It was set with breakfast china, each place setting hand-painted with unique floral motifs. At the head sat Kikyo, elegant in a black gown, speaking to Kalluto at her side.

"Good morning," Illumi and Hisoka greeted. 

They moved to the right side of the table, where Hisoka pulled out a chair for Illumi before seating himself beside him.

"Good morning, Illumi," Kikyo said, her gaze skimming past Hisoka as if he were part of the furnishings.

Butlers appeared at their sides to inquire about coffee or tea. Illumi opted for tea, and then placed slices of fresh fruit and pastries on his alstroemeria-patterned plate. He craved sweetness this morning. 

Across the table, Kalluto was peeling a tangerine into a single, serpentine strip. The fresh citrus scent carried through the air, reminding Illumi of a day last summer when he taught him this very technique—how to keep the peel intact. He had learned his lesson well.

For a time, the room spoke only in the language of silverware clinking against china.

Hisoka cleared his throat. "Lady Kikyo, I wanted to apologize for the incident during malletique yesterday. I regret any distress it may have caused you. Please accept my sincere apologies."

Kikyo finished sipping her tea, then set the cup down on her pink and purple azalea coaster. She dabbed her lips with a napkin, and turned her visor toward Hisoka.

"And please know," Hisoka said, "I assure you it was unintentional."

"I understand," she said, tilting her head slightly. "One would have thought that a man of your supposed talents could manage a simple game without mishap. But perhaps that's too much to ask."

Illumi thought her response ungracious, even barbed. He noticed how Hisoka tightened his grip around his myrtle-patterned cup. 

"Rest assured, it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. I prefer not to waste any more dresses."

Once again, Illumi found her remarks unnecessary. Hisoka was making an effort—couldn't she see that?

Under the shield of the table, Illumi placed his hand on Hisoka's knee. 

Hisoka finished guiding his fork, laden with syrup-glazed waffles, to his mouth. Once he set the cutlery down, his hand found Illumi's beneath the tablecloth. He squeezed it.

Across the table, Kalluto looked up from his stack of skinless tangerines. "Mother, may I have the honey?" he asked. With delicate fingers, he began to part the segments of the fruits.

"Of course, dear," she replied, gesturing for a servant to assist.

With the honey placed before him, Kalluto drizzled a golden stream into his thistle-painted teacup and twirled it with a spoon. He then turned to Illumi. "Onii-sama, if it's not too much trouble, could we train together after breakfast?" 

Illumi glanced at his fiance’. "Hisoka and I had planned to take a walk."

"It’s fine, you can go with Kalluto," Hisoka said, “These past few days have been intense, and a bit of rest would do me good. That is, unless there are other official plans?" He looked at Kikyo.

“You’re free to do as you like. You’re our guest.” 

"Very well." Illumi shifted his gaze to Kalluto. "Your shadow steps need improvement, and I want to check on your basic techniques as well."

Kalluto's face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. "Yes, Onii-sama."

The breakfast concluded soon after. Kikyo rose and left, and in quick succession, the butlers cleaned her tableware. Once done, they stepped back. Standing alert with vulture-like gazes, they monitored the room, waiting for the opportunity to sweep away the remains of another’s morning indulgence.   

Illumi took a forkful of his raspberry puff pastry tart and looked at Hisoka, noting the exhaustion in the slope of his shoulders. He appeared resigned, spent. Or was it his mind playing tricks? Making him see something that wasn’t there?

Words gathered in Illumi’s throat, pressing against his lips—there were so many things he wanted to say, yet he didn't know where to begin or how to shape his thoughts into coherence.

It didn't matter.

Even armed with the right words, this was not the place to let them free.

Hisoka poured himself more coffee, then raised his gaze to meet Illumi’s. "Go on." he said, his words lacking any bite. "I'll take the opportunity to indulge in a beauty ritual. The mountain air doesn't seem to agree with my skin."

Illumi felt the soft press of Hisoka’s knee against his leg, as if to confirm everything was okay. Somehow, this didn’t ease his concerns.

Illumi turned to see Kalluto staring their way, repeatedly crumpling and smoothing out his napkin. He dropped his gaze at once. 

Time to go, it seems. Illumi stood, left the room, and his brother followed half a pace behind.

As they walked along the corridor lined with portraits, Illumi glanced at the faces of his ancestors, witnesses to generations of tradition and duty. Illumi wondered what they would say of the present state of affairs.

He knew he should feel relief that Hisoka was finally behaving as expected, adhering to the rules he had previously danced around. Yet, seeing him so subdued stirred a strange twist inside Illumi.

He had wanted to guide Hisoka into obedience, to be the falconer to his falcon—not to cage him into a songbird; docile and dull. He hadn’t fallen in love with a sparrow. And yet, it seemed his family might have wished for just such a bird, one that would chirp on cue but otherwise remain quiet in the background. 

Illumi had hoped that given enough time, his mother would recognize Hisoka’s value, and see in him a strong ally and a rightful member of the family. But that expectation had gone unmet.

This led Illumi to reconsider whether her dismissive attitude towards Hisoka might be justified, perhaps by some criteria his fiancé failed to meet. Even so, it seemed unfair. If a test were necessary, why not set the terms openly and give Hisoka the opportunity to prove himself, rather than dismissing him from the get-go?

They were about to approach their usual training spot, when Illumi felt a vibration in his pocket. He paused, pulled out his phone, and glanced at a message from Hisoka.

Hisoka: Come to my room ASAP. We have a problem. ♣

"Kalluto, begin your warm-ups without me, I'll join you shortly."

"Is everything alright, Onii-sama?"

“Just a small matter to attend to. Focus on your exercises."

He turned and walked away, his steps calm as usual—or so he hoped—until he was out of Kalluto's sight. Then his pace quickened.

More problems, just what they needed. Was this about the ‘ghost’ Hisoka had mentioned yesterday?

Illumi approached Hisoka's room and looked around. When he was sure no one was in sight, he reached for the door. Before his knuckles could touch it, the door opened slightly, just enough to reveal Hisoka's taut face.

“Come in,” Hisoka whispered, “and try not to freak out." 

Illumi slipped inside and caught the coppery scent even before he saw its source.  

On the marble floor lay a butler. Dead. Dark blood pooled beneath him, with crimson rivulets tracing through the tiles. In his rigid hands, he clutched the towels he had come to deliver, now soaked in red.

"I found him like this," Hisoka said. "You have to believe me. I had nothing to do with it. See for yourself—the body's pale and cold, and the coagulation—"

“I believe you.” Illumi placed a hand on Hisoka’s shoulder. He felt some of the tension ease beneath his touch.

Illumi crouched beside the body. The butler’s eyes, open and empty, stared at the ceiling, showing no signs of surprise or fear. He hadn't seen it coming—whatever it was. 

The cause of death was a deep wound slashed across his neck. Several additional cuts had sliced through his clothing and into his skin. The edges were clean, and the way the blood had settled suggested they were inflicted post-mortem. 

Initially, Illumi couldn't understand their purpose; they were too superficial to cause real harm or satisfy a sadistic impulse.

That’s when it hit him.

“These cuts,” Illumi said, "resemble the marks your cards would leave.” 

Hisoka nodded. “Yes. I thought of that too.”

“Whoever did this is highly skilled with Nen and Zetsu. I didn’t think anyone could get into the estate without being seen.” The words knotted in his throat, as if speaking them aloud made them all the more real. “Someone dangerous is here, targeting my family.”

"Agreed. I’m not sure about the last part, though. They want to frame me, that much is clear." 

"You are family," Illumi said, each word firm. "I won't tolerate it."

"That's touching, but it doesn't change the fact that there's a body on the floor—and a manor full of Zoldycks who probably won't share the sentiment." Hisoka glanced at the door. "Should we tell them?"

"No. Not yet. The evidence points directly at you. Until we have more information, it's best to avoid misunderstandings. I'll dispose of the body." Sensing Hisoka's impending question, he added, "I'll feed him to Mike."

"Alright, but what about the missing butler? Won't anyone notice?"

"The estate is vast and dangerous. Disappearances aren't uncommon," Illumi said. "I'll return to Kalluto afterward. In the meantime, use Texture Surprise to hide the blood. And then—I need you to do something important." 

“Yes?” 

“Go to the surveillance room—down the corridor, third door on the left. I’ll send you the access codes. You’ll find the system easy to handle. Look for the feed from outside your room."

Hisoka took a quick look around and drew breath to speak. Illumi was quicker.

"Yes, the house is equipped with advanced cameras. No, none are in here, and yes, I've already erased any compromising footage of your visits to my room.” Hisoka sealed his lips and nodded. "Now, once you’re there, find out who entered your room, send the clip to your phone, and wipe the original from the system. We’ll plan our next steps based on what you uncover."

“Understood.” 

Illumi picked up the butler’s body, threw it over his shoulder, and headed for the door. There, he paused and cast a look back at Hisoka.

"Whoever did this may not be done yet. Be careful.”

"Likewise," Hisoka said, and offered a strained smile. "We've handled worse before, and we'll solve this as well."

There was more to say and more to do, but time was short. Illumi gave a curt nod and stepped out of the room.

~~~

After wiping away most of the blood and concealing the remaining stains with Texture Surprise, Hisoka took a few steps back and surveyed the room. It looked as if nothing had ever happened, apart from the metallic scent, which he dealt with by opening the window. 

Satisfied, he was ready to comply with Illumi's instructions. But first, a small detour.

Illumi believed their intruder was an outsider, but Hisoka had his doubts: the whole scenario reeked of an inside job. Despite his trust in Illumi, Hisoka chose to keep these suspicions to himself. The situation was already tense enough, and pointing fingers without solid evidence would only make matters worse.

So yes. This was his opportunity to do some discreet investigation, and his main suspect was, conveniently, the only family member currently in the house. Hisoka focused his senses on the aura, and made his way through the corridors, avoiding any butlers en route.

Soon, he reached a door through which he could hear muffled exclamations: 

Learn to play, loser. 

Try not to cry on your way out. 

Are you kidding me! 

Finally. 

Bow to the gaming god.  

He knocked. No reply. He tried the handle and stepped into the room.

When inside, Hisoka blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness. Heavy curtains sealed the only window, effectively blocking the outside world and confining the stale air that reeked of sweat and junk food. At the far end of the room, a computer station offered the only source of illumination. Milluki sat there, surrounded by monitors, wearing a virtual reality headset and jabbing at a handheld controller as if his life depended on it.

“Milluki?” he tried. No response.

Well, if this isn’t the perfect opportunity to look around.

Hisoka glanced over the shelves. They overflowed with figurines, mostly of women in skimpy outfits, posed in artfully lewd displays. On other surfaces, including the floor, spare circuits and half-assembled gadgets competed for space with snack wrappers. The walls were oddly bare, save for the mounted screens, where a muscular warrior with a black-haired bowl cut slashed through monsters in a fantasy setting.

Time for a closer look. Careful to avoid the mess on the floor, Hisoka began his search at the shelves. He swept his gaze through the sea of merchandise, searching for anything out of place. Nothing suspicious caught his eye. Undeterred, he moved to the opposite side of the room and, after a quick glance at Milluki, opened a cabinet. It was filled with DVDs, manga, and more figurines.

The biggest reveal came when he found a modest collection of black-and-white Kaiju films. Well, well, perhaps there's a sliver of taste in Mini Menace after all.

When he felt he had seen enough, Hisoka stepped forward, raised a hand, and tapped Milluki on the shoulder.

Milluki jolted and took off his VR headset. "What the—" he said, trying to rise but forgetting about the tangled cords. The earpieces yanked him back. "Ugh, damn it." He tore them off and finally stood up, face flushed and eyes blazing. Small, round, and bristling, he reminded Hisoka of an especially angry pug. 

"What the hell are you doing here? Get out. NOW." 

"Apologies. I knocked, but no one answered.” Hisoka stepped toward a shelf and picked up a figurine of a girl in a bikini that barely covered her privates. He tilted it between his fingers.

"Hey, don't touch that!" Milluki rushed over, snatching the merch from Hisoka's grasp and placing it in its original spot. "They're collectibles."

Hisoka crouched, eyeing an electronic gauntlet. "And this? What does it do?" He reached out to pick it up, but Milluki slapped his hand away.

"Hands off. That's sensitive equipment," Milluki hissed. "Look, either say what you want or get lost. I'm serious."

"Now, now." Hisoka raised his palms, as if surrendering. Then he settled onto Milluki's unmade bed. "That's not very welcoming of you. I had hoped for a friendly chat, but all you Zoldycks are so straight to business." Crossing his legs, he added with a sly grin, "It's fortunate I was able to teach Illumi how to relax a little."

"Ew, gross. I don't even wanna—” Milluki's face turned beet red. "Ugh. Why he picked someone like you is beyond me." 

"Someone like me?" 

"A creepy jobless pervert clown," Milluki said. "Illumi could do way better."

"Interesting." Hisoka leaned forward. "But if my presence bothers you so much, why not do something about it?" He watched Milluki's reaction closely. 

“You think I'd actually waste my time on you? I've got better things to do," said Blackmailer Junior. However, his expression and body language offered no clues of guilt. "Just stay out of my way and don't mess with Illumi. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist."

A series of beeps erupted from the VR setup. Milluki glanced back at the flashing screens. "Great, now I'm missing my raid."

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Hisoka said, standing up gracefully.

"Finally. Thanks for wasting my time." 

“You’re welcome.”

Hisoka strolled out of the room, feeling the force of Milluki’s glare drilling into his back. The door shut behind him. With the vigour the boy used, he was surprised it was still in one piece.

Well, that wasn't particularly enlightening. Milluki had been his usual charming self, but nothing about the encounter screamed guilt. The only thing that stood out to Hisoka was the hint of genuine concern whenever Illumi's name came up.

He does seem to care about him in his own way. Maybe that could be the motive? Or perhaps it was some outside force after all. What a conundrum. 

Time to head to the surveillance room. If Milluki wasn't going to give him answers, perhaps the security footage would.

He scanned for any auras—nothing unusual. The butlers were occupied elsewhere, and the house remained as devoid of Zoldycks as before. Retracing his steps, he reached the door Illumi had previously pointed out and typed the code into the small panel beside it.

Hisoka opened the door, revealing a room not unlike Milluki's—dark, windowless, and lit by the glow of screens. He switched on the light. The room was larger than expected for a surveillance hub, since it appeared to double as a storeroom with freestanding metal shelves lined around the area, laden with various tech gadgets and components.

He approached a wall of monitors displaying live feeds from around the estate. On one screen, Kikyo moved among flowers, pruning and planting, crouching here and there to adjust each bloom in the soil. 

Interesting. Madame Kikyo isn’t above getting her hands dirty? (Figuratively speaking, of course—she was still wearing gloves.)

On another monitor, he watched Illumi train with Kalluto. They stood on planks, parallel to each other, maintaining their balance in an intricate pose. As Illumi transitioned into a new stance, Kalluto followed suit. Seeing this, Hisoka imagined the young Zoldyck not only as a mirror to Illumi’s movements but also as a reflection of his brother from days long past. 

Perhaps. He had never seen a childhood photo of Illumi; he couldn’t know.

But now was not the time for distractions, no matter how tempting the ‘Zoldyck Uncovered’ channel seemed to be. He approached the central console and entered another code. The system was as intuitive as Illumi had promised. In moments, he located the right feed and pulled up the footage from earlier that morning.

Alright, let's see.

Hisoka pushed the fast-forward button, slowing to normal speed the moment he saw himself on the footage. There he was, greeting Illumi at his door. He watched as they both disappeared from the frame.

Ten minutes later, the butler stepped into his room, towels in hand. Hisoka edged closer to the screen. So the butler entered alone. But when does our mystery guest make an appearance?

His frustration mounted as he continued to watch the video, but it offered no clues. No intruder, no open door.

That's impossible. 

Bodies don't just appear, and people don't vanish into thin air.

He hit rewind, this time watching the footage in slow motion. The butler appeared, entered the room, and… 

And moments later, something fast, something dark, materialized in the corridor. He paused the video.

The individual on the recording was too blurry and shadowy to discern, yet the silhouette's outline looked familiar. It took Hisoka a moment to recognize it.

It looked like... him.

What the hell? A shapeshifter?

He zoomed in and replayed the segment frame by frame. It was hard to see clearly, but the figure moved unnaturally, almost as if it were a one-dimensional shadow gliding along the wall. 

Even if a skilled Nen user was involved, pulling this off alone seemed impossible, and the idea of a whole group remaining undetected for so long was equally unlikely. So... how? How was it possible?

No matter. It was time to gather the evidence; perhaps Illumi would have some helpful ideas after seeing this.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Just as he figured out how to connect it to the computer, a sharp crack pierced the air, sinking the room into darkness. Hisoka spun around. Only a thin strip of light under the door broke the blackness, soon joined by the red glow of an emergency bulb above him.

The hum of the equipment stopped, replaced by a faint whirring sound coming from somewhere deep in the darkness. The acrid scent of fried electronics filled the air.

Moody. Usually, he was the source of fear in the room, but now, he felt like one of the final girls from the movies he sometimes liked to watch. The thought almost made him chuckle.

"Playing hide and seek?" Hisoka said. "Why don't you come out? We could be having so much more fun."

Hisoka turned on the flashlight on his phone and swept the beam around the room. A sense of déjà vu prickled his nerves. No aura, no presence—just emptiness.

He moved forward, slowly. The sound intensified, guiding him toward a control box in a far corner. Smoke curled from it, and the wires inside fizzed and sparked in the darkness.

He looked around one last time and moved closer to examine the damage. There was no easy way to repair this; a cut had severed the cables in two. Was the recording lost? Hisoka wasn't sure which outcome to hope for, considering the person caught on tape bore his resemblance.

Clunk-clink-clunk.  

Behind him, screws and bolts rolled across the floor. 

Hisoka whirled, sweeping the flashlight across empty air. His gaze shot to the door just in time to catch a shadow cast underneath, which vanished as quickly as it appeared.

He sprinted to the door and grasped the handle. Locked. He punched in the code, but the keypad was dead. 

No point in subtlety now—a broken door wouldn't make much difference.

He stepped back and kicked it. The door burst open, swinging wide and slamming against the wall with a bang.

In the corridor, Hisoka’s gaze darted left and right. No movement. The hallway stretched out, empty and silent as before. 

"Not even a goodbye?" 

He was about to decide his next move when a scream echoed through the mansion.

“Kika, Kikaaa nooooo.”

Milluki. Hisoka sprinted toward his room. Who was Kika? Could she be a butler? 

Once there, he shoved the door open without fuss. 

Milluki’s room looked as if a tornado had passed through. Shelves split in half. Figurines all over the floor. Sparks that sputtered from the carcasses of electronic devices. 

At the center, Milluki knelt, clutching a life-sized doll crisscrossed with slices all over her body. With a trembling finger, he adjusted a disheveled lock of her brown hair. “Kika.” The name escaped his lips more as a choked sob than a word.

At the sight, something shifted within Hisoka. Although one might call the scene pathetic, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the little guy.

"Milluki?" He stepped forward cautiously. “Did you saw—”

“YOU!”

Milluki sprang to his feet, leaving the doll limp on the floor. 

“Look, I just got here. I heard your screams."

"Don't play dumb." Milluki snapped. "You broke into my room. Twice! And wrecked it and now Kika—" His voice broke.

At the same time, two butlers rushed in, took one look at the room, and hurried out with a terse, “Go inform Lady Kikyo.”

Fuck.

“I assure you, I had nothing to do with this."

"You messed with my gear, it's personal now." 

“You have to belie—”

Milluki threw himself at Hisoka, fists thumping against his chest with pitiful force.

Under different circumstances, the sight would have entertained him, cute and funny as it was. But now, with the room in shambles and the doll lying at their feet like a corpse, he realized just how deep in shit he currently was. 

Neck-deep in a cesspool of trouble, to be precise. 

While Milluki kept landing punches and occasional kicks, Hisoka fished his phone from his pocket and typed a quick text with one hand. Hoping it made sense, he sent it to Illumi. He needed backup. Now.

Outside came the brisk and familiar tac-tac-tac, his personal soundtrack of doom. Before Hisoka could brace himself, Kikyo stormed in, her black gown trailing like a thundercloud. Hisoka was certain that beneath her visor, lightning flashed to match it.

“Is this what you bring into our home? The constant humiliation and disrespect weren’t enough—now you destroy my child’s belongings? I knew it!” Her voice rose to a near-hysterical pitch. “I knew you were trouble from the very start!” 

Milluki stepped back, pointing an accusatory finger at Hisoka. “He came in and smashed everything, just like that!”

Son of a— 

There wasn't much to say, but Hisoka tried to say it anyway. “This is all a misunderstanding, if you could only—”

“You’ll pay for this,” she hissed. 

Hisoka tried to reply, but Kikyo began firing accusations like rounds from a machine gun, smothering his every attempt to defend himself. Among the barrage of words, she shouted, “You ingrate!” “You dare defile our home?” and “I’ll protect my sons from you if it’s the last thing I do.”

It was chaos. For once, Hisoka had no idea what to do, so he just stood there like an idiot, absorbing all the insults. After a moment, Kikyo reached for the nearest figurines and decided to expand her repertoire by throwing them at him. Hisoka dodged one, then another. Components and pieces of the collectibles skittered and bounced across the floor. Milluki sank down, clutching his hair and gasping for breath in short, ragged bursts.

Then Illumi appeared in the doorway.

He stood still for a heartbeat, his eyes sweeping over the wreckage before fixating on Kikyo. He stepped into the room. “Kaasan,” he said, but aside from Hisoka, no one seemed to notice him. 

“Kasaan stop,” he said, firm enough to earn a quick glance from his mother. She didn’t stop.

Hisoka no longer dodged the hits. All he saw was Illumi.

“Stop.” Illumi positioned himself between Hisoka and her storm.

Hisoka's heart swelled. Defiance! His personal angel of death had stepped down to earth to deliver him salvation.

Kikyo’s arm halted and her rant died on her parted lips. “Illumi!” she shrieked after a moment. 

“Hisoka is innocent.”

“How could you say that!”

“I saw him, he— he—” Milluki said.

"I know what it looks like, but he had nothing to do with this," Illumi said. 

Kikyo wanted to interject, but Illumi continued, increasing his volume while remaining calm. "Someone else is behind this; there have been strange things happening from the start."

"Yes, it started when he got here because it was him who—"

"I said he’s innocent," Illumi repeated. “Tell me, Kaasan: why would he frame himself? Why would he purposely draw this kind of attention?"

There were more protests from Kikyo, but Hisoka no longer listened. 

His focus shifted to Kalluto, standing in the threshold, pale as a ghost, with his eyes wide and directed toward the floor. The boy took a step forward, but his legs seemed to fail him, and he caught himself on the doorframe.

Hisoka was glad for the distraction, so he came closer and crouched down beside him, only to hear a sharp, “Don’t touch him!” from behind. 

“Little one, are you ok?”

Kalluto looked at Hisoka, then glanced at Illumi, who had come to kneel beside him. The boy trembled and swallowed hard. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far,” he said, tears already forming. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” 

“This… it’s all my fault.”

For the first time all was silent. No one spoke. No one dared to move.

Kalluto crumpled to the floor and tucked himself into a small, trembling ball.

He buried his head in his knees, and cried, as a child would. 

Chapter Text

Kalluto crouched low, his face buried in his arms, his sobs muffled against his sleeves.

The hush that followed his confession lasted only a moment; then the rest of the Zoldycks erupted, almost at once.

“You have to be kidding me!”

“Kalluto—explain yourself,” Kikyo said. "Kalluto, look at me when I speak.”

“Kalluto, enough with the tears, talk.” Illumi, who knelt beside Kalluto, leaned forward and shook him by the shoulder. "Are you hearing me?"

Kalluto curled in tighter. His shoulders shook, his breathing became fast and irregular, and he gasped as if he couldn’t pull in enough air. Hisoka was quite sure he was either close to or already hyperventilating.

“Illumi,” Hisoka said, laying a hand on Illumi’s upper arm. "Give the boy a moment." 

Illumi paused to look at him, then pulled his hand away. The others must have realized Kalluto was in no position to speak, because they stopped talking as well.

“Easy there.” Hisoka said. “Deep breaths, hm?”

Hisoka knew that Kalluto had done something with the intent to hurt him—whatever his little scheme was supposed to be. 

However, he couldn't bring himself to outright hate the boy. 

He saw signs of remorse on Kalluto's face, indicating he had made a grave mistake. And let’s be honest, if anyone knew a thing or two about monumental screw-ups, it was Hisoka.

He’d at least give him the decency to explain himself before making any judgments—which was more courtesy than Kalluto had shown him.

After a moment of non-responsiveness, Kalluto followed Hisoka’s advice. He took several deep breaths, and though the first few came out shaky and uneven, each one that followed grew more and more steady. He uncurled, revealing a tear-streaked face far from the dignified expression he usually maintained. His eyes were red and swollen, barely visible between frequent blinks. Tears and snot ran down his cheeks.

He made an effort to sit upright, though his shoulders remained slumped.

“I didn’t mean for this,” Kalluto said. “I didn’t... I only—” He swallowed another sob. “I just wanted to scare you away.” He glanced at Hisoka.

“All right.” Hisoka lifted a brow. “You hate me. Noted. Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t hate-hate you. It’s just—”

“Spit it out.”

"The spiders had plenty to say about you,” Kalluto said. “Especially how you betrayed their trust. How you used and manipulated them just to try and kill Chrollo." He held Hisoka’s gaze. “Given that, how could I have trusted you to be genuine with my brother?”

Ouch, that stung.

But he would never do that to Illumi. Never. (Technically, yes, he would have, once a long time ago, but not now.)

“He did what?” Kikyo said.

“We’ll unpack that in a moment,” Illumi said. “First, tell us everything you’ve done.”

“Yes.” Kalluto planted his hands on his knees. "I was on the lookout for something that could complicate Hisoka's life, possibly enough to drive him away. So I searched the library and found an old book with a curse that seemed to fit my intentions. I used it to animate Hisoka’s shadow, and I instructed it to cause him some trouble.”

At that, Hisoka looked around and saw—

“Your shadow,” Illumi said, “It’s gone.”

What the fuck?

“And Milluki’s gone too,” Kalluto said, causing all eyes to turn toward Milluki.

Milluki spun this way and that. “Kalluto, I’ll kill you! What the hell did you do?” He clenched his fists. “Give me back my shadow, now.”

“I don’t have your shadow! And I never wanted any of this," Kalluto said, raising his voice and sounding angry. “I took extra precautions. I did! I locked away every pair of scissors.”

“That doesn’t make much sense. Scissors?” Illumi frowned. “And why is Milluki’s shadow missing too?”

"There was a warning in the book: should a shadow get hold of scissors, it can use them to separate itself from the body. That's why I checked everywhere, from Hisoka's room to all the common areas. But as it seems, it wasn’t enough." 

“Yes, it evidently wasn’t.” 

In theory, Hisoka could ease Kalluto’s guilt by saying he took the scissors from Illumi. Equally in theory, he could shave his head and become a peace activist. 

Kalluto looked at him, and blinked a few times, then turned his gaze to Illumi. "Once free, the shadow is still compelled to follow the initial command, but the longer it’s separated from the body, the more independent it becomes. It craves chaos. It can free other shadows too, and..." He paused, swallowing hard, "it retains the same abilities as its original."

“Oh holy shit,” Milluki said.

Holy shit, indeed. A whole house with mischievous entities possessing Zoldyck-level abilities? Catastrophe guaranteed.

Kikyo jolted. “Silva…”

“And Grandpa,” Illumi added. 

“If those things gets to them—”

“They won’t. I’ll call them,” Illumi said.

Hisoka turned to Kalluto, forcing calm into his voice. "In the book, were there some instructions on how to undo the curse?"

"Yes, but I didn't focused on them," Kalluto said, making Hisoka wonder if he had intended to lift the curse at all. "It's in the library. I can go get it."

Illumi’s brow creased as he looked at his phone. "They’re not answering. We need to warn them in person."

"Where are they?" 

"In the woods, repairing the Pyrolynx wall."

"Alright, let's split up the fun," Hisoka said. "Here's what I propose: Illumi and I will go after Zeno and Silva, while the rest of you take care of the library—find that book and figure out how to reverse this. Does that work for everyone?"

The group agreed, with Kikyo adding, "For now."

"Keep your phones close and stay alert," Illumi said. “And let’s keep an eye on each other's shadows. Make sure the hostile shadows don't approach them."

They left the room in a tense atmosphere. 

Much was left unsaid and unasked, but now was not the time. 

Kikyo was the first to stride into the corridor, with Illumi and Hisoka following close behind. Milluki and Kalluto were just a step back.

They walked together in strained silence.

It didn’t last long. 

Several steps down the corridor, the floor turned glossy pink and bubbled at their feet. 

Hisoka looked down, thinking something along the lines of what the actual hell?, when thick tentacles of Bungee Gum shot from the floor. 

They latched onto their arms and legs, holding them in place, while the pink goo on the floor climbed up and started covering their bodies at an alarming speed.

Hisoka released his own Bungee Gum to clash with the hostile substance, and the two elastic forces locked against each other. He tried to push it down, but it was like an arm-wrestling match between equally matched opponents. 

Instead of attempting to clear it all, he focused on protecting the space around himself and Illumi, overpowering the gum in their immediate area.

He turned back to check the situation. Kalluto, fan in hand, was carving away pieces of the goo with rhythmic strokes. He was preventing the Bungee Gum from rising further around Milluki and himself. They were entangled but managing. 

Then, Hisoka glanced ahead and saw Kikyo fighting for her freedom. 

She was trapped up to her waist, with the substance crawling up her black gown and turning it pink. Despite her efforts to break free—fierce and oh so very loud—she was quickly running out of space to move. Soon, she would have none at all. 

Part of Hisoka would have loved to watch her submerge, to see how she’d look straining for breath. It would suit her, that look.  

Bungee gum would encircle her throat, squeeze it, and her eyes would take on a glazed, distant look. Then, as the goo moved up to her lips, she would gasp for one last breath. A counterproductive move, of course. The gum would pour into her body, filling her mouth and throat, going down, down and molding her from inside, reshaping her internal anatomy at its whim. She would remain forever encapsulated in the pink shell that captured her final moment. What a deliciously grotesque sculpture she would become.

But no, he could hear Illumi’s voice haunting him in his head for even contemplating such pleasures. Fine, he thought, I’ll save her.

He sprinted toward Kikyo. 

He decided against shooting his cards. Too risky. He couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t slice her in the process. Instead, once he reached her, he tore at the gum with his bare hands and pushed it down, just as he had before.  

Oh, the things I do for people I barely tolerate.

BOOM.

An explosion detonated behind them sending them flying backward and crashing to the floor. Debris and dust ricocheted off the walls. 

Illumi.

With his heart in his throat, Hisoka lifted his head and saw Illumi with Milluki and Kalluto.

But his relief was short-lived. The floor beneath them was wrecked: fissures spiderwebbed across the marble, and the gum was the only thing holding it together.

“Illumi, watch—”

The gum vanished in an instant, and the entire section of floor collapsed, sending Illumi, Milluki, and Kalluto plummeting into the darkness below. 

A second explosion followed, this time aimed somewhere above. Chunks of ceiling crashed into the pit and sealed the Zoldycks beneath a pile of rubble.

Clouds of dust rolled in waves, choking the air. It stung Hisoka’s eyes and coated his tongue with chalky residue. Through the haze, he glimpsed Milluki’s shadow holding what must have been a detonator. By the next blink, it was gone. 

Hisoka staggered to the explosion site. Slabs of marble and pieces of twisted metal formed a barrier that blocked the crater. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be an issue, but now a layer of Bungee Gum shielded the debris. Hisoka attempted to peel it away and reach the underlying rubble, but every time he did, the gum retracted to its original stretch.

“Illumi!” 

No reply, but at least he could sense their auras somewhere below.

That’s when Hisoka caught movement to his left. 

He turned—and there it was. His own shadow, watching him with a mocking grin, holding a handful of playing cards in his hand. 

It threw one at his throat. Hisoka dodged it, but the card sliced across his arm instead.

Hisoka pulled out his own deck and flung card after card until none were left. In a blink, the shadow grew transparent, and each of the aimed projectiles passed through it as if it were mere air. Its grin widened.

Hisoka felt out of control, and clueless about how to reclaim it. The shadow appeared invincible: all his power, yet no evident way to harm it. If his opponent wasn't so fond of playing with its food, Hisoka was quite sure he’d already be dead.

Even before his mind could grasp these facts, his nerves fired with alarm. An instinct as ancient as bone kicked in, an animal urge that forced him to retreat.

And here are all the people telling me that I’m suicidal.

The shadow made no move; it simply stood there, head tilted, watching him, almost as if its goal was to keep him away from the rubble. Was that its plan? To divide us? Hisoka asked himself that, while he attempted to retract the cards with Bungee Gum. The shadow made no attempt to stop him.

The buzz of his phone almost made him jump. It was Illumi. 

“We’re fine,” Illumi said the instant Hisoka picked up. “No significant injuries. What about you two?”

“I’m still in one piece.” He looked over his shoulder to see Kikyo coughing and pushing herself off the ground. Had she been unconscious? “Kikyo’s good too.”

“Good.” Hisoka could hear the relief in Illumi’s voice—the kind that always came after he pulled off an especially thrilling stunt. Right before the chastisement began. “We're in an underground passage that runs beneath the house. I tried to clear the rockfall, but it's coated in gum. It won’t move.”

“Same problem here.” 

“We can't afford any holdups, so let's regroup and push forward with the plan. Since the tunnels lead outside, we’ll go and find Father and Grandfather. You and Mother will handle the library.”

Great. Just great.

For a moment, Illumi’s voice faded, and Hisoka could hear him speaking with Kalluto in the background. “When you’re there, look for a thick black tome titled ‘Sigils, Rites & Bindings’. You’ll find it in the third aisle from the door, on one of the middle shelves.”

“Got it.”

“And Hisoka—” Illumi started in a different, less instructive voice, “Thank you for helping Kaasan. She’s as deadly as the rest of us, but… please, keep an eye on her. And watch her shadow."

Hisoka closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “Of course.” 

The call ended. Hisoka turned and found himself face to face with Kikyo. She stood there. Silent. Still. Staring at him and not being creepy at all. 

“I heard you talking with Illumi,” she said. 

“Mhmm. The blasts dropped them underground. They’re off to find Silva and Zeno, while we’re on library duty.”

“I see,” Kikyo said. Hisoka felt her gaze on him, lingering. “You’re bleeding.” 

Hisoka glanced down at his arm, where blood still flowed from the cut. "It appears so."

Kikyo huffed. She leaned down, pulled an unsoiled piece of fabric from the inner lining of her gown, and tore it off.

“Stay still.” In a single step, she was next to him. With quick movements, she wrapped the cloth around his arm. 

Hisoka studied her with a hint of amusement. “I never thought you’d bother.”

“I’m not about to let you bleed all over the floors,” Kikyo said, as though the corridor wasn’t already in shambles. She pulled the knot tight, setting a dull throb in his arm. "There’s a first-aid kit along the way. You can disinfect it properly there.”

She dusted off her gown with impatient swipes and straightened up. “Let’s hurry. The sooner we have that book, the sooner we end this.”

Hisoka tilted his head and smiled. “Sure.”

You don’t have to tell me twice.  

~~~

Hisoka closed the door behind him and stepped back into the hallway, the sharp scent of antiseptic flowing alongside him. With the wound tended, they were ready for their next stop. The library.

As he walked, Hisoka rolled up his torn sleeve, and then adjusted the other to match. He never let injuries ruin his look, and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, Illumi had never objected to a bit of exposed arm. A small indulgence for their next meeting.

Kikyo led the way, her posture tense, her gown swishing back and forth against her ankles. Every so often, she would slow down and her head would dart to the side before she resumed her click-clacking on the floor.

Hisoka followed a short distance behind and reflected on how this was the first time he had been alone with Kikyo without anyone else there to mediate or moderate. No Illumi to help smooth things over, no other Zoldyck to divert her attention.

He’d half-expected her to launch into a never-ending flow of words, but since they left the wreckage, she hadn’t uttered a single one.

Now, given the urgency of the situation and the high stakes—with a very real risk of shit going sideways—she had not only avoided hysteria but had also proven competent so far. Unexpected, to say the least.

Hisoka was adept at reading people and took pride in this skill, but Kikyo often left him perplexed. Maybe it was because mothers weren’t exactly a demographic he had much experience with, or maybe it was just her. Whatever the reason, she remained an enigma; the more he learned about her, the less he understood. 

He was deep in thought when Kikyo stopped, and he halted as well, just in time to avoid bumping into her. After a quick look around, she approached a set of ornate doors on the right, adorned with vine-patterned inlays.

She opened one leaf and stopped short, her eyes widening. “What in the—?”

Hisoka hurried over to see what had caught her attention. She was staring into the library—if one could still call it that. 

It was a grand, old-fashioned chamber with high ceilings and a central area that must have once been cozy. Now, however, it looked rather devastated. Lamps were shattered, armchairs scratched, and a mother-of-pearl globe that doubled as a minibar had been knocked off its axis. It had shattered in several places, damaging the wooden panels below and pouring its entrails on the floor.

Alright, this may not have been ideal—if you were a Zoldyck—but it didn’t bother Hisoka in the slightest.

Something else, however, did.

On both sides of the room, two-story bookshelves stretched from end to end, but instead of holding books as they ought to, they were now almost empty. Their contents had been scattered across the floor in massive, chaotic piles. 

Calling it a sea of books wouldn’t have been an exaggeration.

That’s for him, for believing that anything could be as simple as walking in and grabbing a book. 

Had the shadows anticipated them? They must have. He could only hope they hadn’t gotten to the book and that it was still here, buried somewhere in this mess.

He tapped Kikyo’s shoulder, and as she turned—mouth half-open to speak—he lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. In quick succession he made a series of rapid gestures that hopefully translated to: I’ll check the right side, you check the left. She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded.

She stepped out of her stilettos and, walking on tiptoes, approached the shelves to start looking around. 

Hisoka had to admit he was tempted to stay and watch—he was still unfamiliar with her skills and curious to see them in action. For instance, even a brief observation was enough to gauge her proficiency in stealth. 

But efficiency won out. He turned right, and went to check the other side as planned.

As he moved through the space, Hisoka noted that it also functioned as a small museum for the Zoldyck family's memorabilia: decorative daggers, yellowed documents, and ancient jewellery—all behind glass cases. It seemed the shadows had left these items untouched. Not that he cared much either way.

When he was sure nothing was hiding in the corners, Hisoka returned to the center of the room. Kikyo was already there, putting her shoes back on. 

Hisoka picked up a black volume and turned it over in his hands. "Quite the mess. Are we really supposed to find a single book in all this?"

"Yes. And I’d appreciate it if you did so without further commentary. Check that side, I’ll start over here."

Hisoka pinched his lips together to keep from replying.

Kikyo walked to the nearest pile of books on the right and began sorting through them. After a few steady breaths, Hisoka did the same.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the occasional clatter somewhere in the library. Each sound sent Hisoka's pulse spiking, his head whipping from side to side. Even when it turned out to be just Kikyo or a book tumbling from a shelf, Hisoka began to feel just a tiny bit paranoid, imagining that the shadows might be watching them from some hidden spot. And if they weren't? The thought that they might be occupied elsewhere was equally unsettling. 

He advanced from pile to pile, picking up one book after another, none of which matched the description. The work was tedious, and the company... even worse. He found himself wondering if he would prefer teaming up with Silva instead of Kikyo, given the option. Maybe. At least Silva’s special brand of awkwardness felt less personal. Ugh. As if either option wouldn’t be miserable. In truth, he just wished Illumi were here.

Once he completed inspecting the immediate area, he moved to the next aisle. He paused when he spotted a garment behind a tall glass display.

He recognized it instantly: Elara’s wedding dress.  

It was made of white silk, handcrafted and embroidered. The details were exceptional, reflecting the hours of work that must have been poured into its creation: rows of tiny stitches, puffed sleeves trimmed with lace, and a full, bell-like skirt that must have once rustled with each step its wearer took.

It really is beautiful.

Hisoka moved closer to the case, pressing a palm against the glass, fogging its surface with his breath. He ran a fingertip down the pane, following the contours of the dress until he reached a dark, rust-hued stain near the left side of the gown—where Elara had been stabbed. 

In another life, this gown could have been passed down through generations as a symbol of love and joy, handed from elderly hands to young ones, worn with giggles and excitement. Perhaps, in that life, he could have been one of those to wear it. 

Instead, it existed only as a warning, and that’s all it would ever be. 

How strange. It was only two days ago that he made that unfortunate comment, but it feels like ages. At the time, he thought that misstep was the worst of his troubles, but compared to murderous shadows, those almost seem like the good old days.

If only dinner-table drama were still our biggest worry.

Behind him, he heard the click of heels.

“Step back,” Kikyo said. “I know you thrive on trouble, but my family and I don’t need more of your recklessness.”

He had tried. Oh, how he had tried. Stamping out the fires she set at his feet, smothering the heat before it could catch.

But it was never enough. The struggle was too great, too constant—and a single match from her hand was all it took.

He ignited.

“I’ve had enough of this.” He turned around and faced her. “You've been absolutely rude to me from day one, and I’m done with it. I demand an apology. If anyone’s bringing trouble to your door, it’s your own son.”

“Kalluto made a mistake because you—”

“Oh, so when it’s your son, it’s just a mistake, but when it’s me, it’s recklessness?” Hisoka let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “Right. Doesn’t matter what I do—I’ll always be the bad guy.”

“I should never have left you in. You’re not fit for my son or this family. He needs someone serious. Not someone who... honestly, I don’t even know what you want. Money? Status? Whatever it is, you're not going to get it.”

The fire inside him roared. A blaze caught in the draft of his breath, eager to scorch.

“I don’t even need your apology. Keep it.” His voice was firm, stripped of any trace of playfulness. “I only tried to keep this civil for Illumi’s sake. I wanted to show him I could get along with his family, that I was willing to try—because I know how much that would mean to him. But you—” he took a sharp breath, “you made damn sure that was never an option.”

Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. 

“I see it now—I will never have your approval. And guess what?” His smile stretched, but there was no amusement behind it. “I’m perfectly fine with that. Because until Illumi himself tells me to leave, I’m staying right by his side. And there is nothing you can do about it.”

He stepped forward.

“You think I have some ulterior motive? Some agenda?” Heat was rising in his voice. “I’ve put my life on the line for Illumi. Over and over. And I will keep doing so, right up until my very last breath. Because I love him.” His chest rose and fell with a steady breath. “That’s my agenda.”

For a tense moment, they simply stared at each other. Kikyo’s hands trembled at her side, and Hisoka half-expected her to snatch a book and fling it at his head.

Instead, she turned away, spine stiff, voice clipped. “Fine,” she said. “I acknowledge you’re not the source of this particular disaster.” A pause, a breath. “And—I appreciate your assistance with that gum.”

The fire burned out, its heat draining from Hisoka’s body. 

In his repertoire of violent fantasies dedicated to Kikyo, there were also scenarios like the one that had just unfolded—ones where he said it all, threw the words back at her, made her choke on them. More than a few times, he had rehearsed the sharp words in his head, imagined the immense satisfaction that would follow. 

But now, standing here, it felt nothing like that. Mostly, he just felt tired.

And God, it almost hurt—this sudden, overwhelming need to be back in Yorknew, pressed against Illumi in their bed. Warm. Still. Asleep.

But instead, he was here, on another continent, apart from Illumi, with a task still unfinished.

“Let’s get back to work,” Hisoka said.

Kikyo nodded, and that’s just what they did.

~~~

Illumi, Kalluto, and Milluki entered the forest, where at last, they sensed Silva and Zeno’s auras. They were getting near.

Illumi blinked a few times as the sun’s light gave way to the shade of the trees.  

When they first left the house, they ran, but after just a few kilometers, it became clear that Milluki couldn’t keep up. After several stops and starts, they settled into a brisk walk, though even that was pushing it.

For a moment, Illumi considered turning back for a vehicle. It seemed to be the most efficient solution and it wouldn’t take long. But even a short detour meant leaving his brothers unattended—and that wasn’t an option. 

At some point, he thought of offering Milluki a piggyback ride. Milluki, however, turned a brilliant shade of crimson and objected. He insisted that he wasn’t a kid anymore and he could walk just fine, he just needed a minute, you see. Illumi debated doing it anyway, but since they were almost there, he let it go.

So they pressed on, and Illumi could only hope they would make it before the shadows decided to reach Silva and Zeno first.

“—you can’t just walk into a store and buy them,” Milluki said to Kalluto as they walked. “You don’t just replace collectibles like that. Like Kika. Do you even know how long it took me to get her? Six years, Kalluto. Six! And when I finally got her, it was a pain in the ass—bribes, fake listings, shady contacts…” He kicked a branch out of his path. “And now? She’s gone. Thanks to you.”

Sweat glistened on his face, yet his outrage seemed to fuel him more than it exhausted him. 

Kalluto walked beside him, head bowed so that his hair obscured much of his face. He offered no response, which only encouraged Milluki to continue.

“You probably don’t even care, right? Well, you should, because you’re paying me back.”

Illumi watched in silence. He wondered if Kalluto had even heard a word Milluki said or if he was lost in thought, brooding over the curse. Either way, he looked miserable.

Until a few hours ago, Illumi would never have suspected Kalluto of doing something like this. He’d always been so controlled, so obedient. He never pulled the stunts Killua did or exploded in tantrums like Milluki. In fact, Illumi had rarely spared him a second thought precisely because he was so… easy. No problems to fix. 

But the disclosure that Kalluto had broken the rules like he did, made him pause, forcing him to reconsider everything he thought he knew about his youngest brother. What else had he missed?

What was even more unexpected was discovering that Kalluto had stirred up all this trouble for his sake.

In a way, this misguided attempt resembled Illumi’s own approach—shielding his siblings from potential risks, preventing them from stepping into danger they couldn’t handle. The parallel made his chest tighten with a strange mix of emotions.

For once, it was more than a little baffling to realize Kalluto might see him as vulnerable, or maybe even worth safeguarding in some way. He was the oldest brother; he did the protecting, not the other way around. And yet, there was a soft, unexpected warmth in knowing Kalluto cared enough to do all this on his behalf.

It left him off-balance, uncertain how to feel. If to be exasperated, touched, or both. One thing was certain: he would pay closer attention to Kalluto from now on. No more overlooking him.

Milluki stopped, clutched at his belly and groaned. “Ugh. All this running around—Illumi, I need to—um—”

“Now?” 

“Yes, now.”

The whole family was too easy on Milluki. He’ll need additional training when this is all over. It’s unacceptable not to control something this basic. 

“Alright, just stay in the line of view and don’t go too far. And be quick.”

“Ugh,” Milluki muttered and strode off.

Illumi waited until Milluki was out of earshot, then turned to Kalluto.

"Don’t worry too much about Milluki. You know how he is, he’ll calm down soon enough.” Illumi said. “That said, you should do something about his collection.” He tapped a finger against his chin, thinking. Milluki wouldn’t stop talking about that new release… “He’ll insist on getting everything replaced, of course, but if you manage to get Toko, Zuzu and Luma from the Renbuki Blossom Edition, he will be too excited to be angry."

“Yes Onii-sama. I’ll find them once this is over.”

For an instant, no one spoke.

“You should have come to me first, instead of causing all this trouble.” Illumi’s voice was calm but edged with reproach. “Why didn’t you?”

Kalluto tensed.

Illumi couldn’t shake the thought that this was, at least in part, his fault. It wasn’t the Zoldyck way to discuss personal matters—especially with the younger ones—but maybe if he had been more transparent about his feelings for Hisoka, Kalluto wouldn’t have had reason to doubt him. And as a result, he wouldn’t have turned to curses.

“If you had doubts about Hisoka, we could’ve discussed it.”

“I wanted to, but I was afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously. So I decided to handle it myself.” Kalluto’s throat bobbed. “I didn’t want to see you hurt again. I remember how you were after Killua left. And when I heard what the Spiders said about Hisoka… I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I thought I was doing the right thing.” 

Illumi’s chest tightened. The memory of Killua’s escape throbbed like an old wound torn open. 

So, Kalluto had seen him upset, despite all his efforts to mask it.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble.” Kalluto added.

"Noted," Illumi said. "But I’m not the only one who deserves to hear that apology.”

“I know. I’ll make things right when I have the chance.”

Illumi placed a hand on Kalluto’s shoulder. “I’m sorry as well,” he said. “For worrying you. But you shouldn't be concerned with the affairs of your elders.”

Kalluto’s lips parted, eyes widening in what could only be surprise.

Was it—Had he ever apologized to him before?

Before either could speak further, a crunch of leaves signaled Milluki’s return. “All right, let’s move,” Milluki said.

“Yes.” Illumi lifted his hand from Kalluto’s shoulder. “Let’s.”

They turned and continued on.

Illumi knew from his father’s reports that they were approaching an area where a fire had burned days earlier. The pungent scent of smoke reached them before the blackened earth came into view.

Strange, how instead of destruction, it reminded him of things that were alive and safe.

They left the greenery behind, stepping into an expanse of scorched trunks standing like black needles piercing the sky. Ash coated the earth in a monochrome sheet.

Pyrolyxs’s work.  

Their territory lay just a few kilometers from here, separated from the forest by a stone barrier—one that had partially collapsed a few days ago when a storm hit, leaving a breach. In the aftermath, a few Pyrolynx slipped through, and with their fire-coated fur, all it took was a single brush against an unlucky pine to set the land ablaze. 

Though the creatures had been herded back and a provisional Nen barrier now sealed the gap, the original stone wall still awaited proper repairs.

The butlers could have reconstructed it, but Illumi suspected that after a few days without work, Father and Grandfather were itching for something to do—so they had jumped at the chance to take care of it themselves.

They were almost there, Silva’s and Zeno’s auras grew stronger with each step. And sure enough, as they reached the forest’s edge, they spotted them in the distance: two figures crouched at a half-collapsed wall, bent over their work.

The moment he caught sight of them, Illumi’s gaze shot downward. Father’s shadow… was gone. And Grandpa’s—  

Illumi broke into a sprint, heart hammering.

“Grandpa, Move! The shadows—behind you,” he shouted. But Zeno only glanced up, puzzled.

He doesn’t get it. Or maybe he just hasn’t heard him yet.

It all happened too fast. Milluki’s shadow held Zeno’s in place, while beside it, another shape—Hisoka’s—cut through it with a pair of scissors, slicing the blackness as if it were mere fabric.

Mid-stride, Illumi threw a barrage of needles at the hostile shadows, only to watch them pass through them. 

A heartbeat later, the scissors snapped one last time, and just like that, the shadows of the Zoldycks’ strongest members were now free.

Zeno shot upright. He turned to see what Illumi had aimed at, and his Ten thickened in the same instant.

Hisoka’s shadow struck with a rapid series of razor-edged slashes. Zeno’s Ten blocked most, but a few cut through, leaving shallow wounds.

In a blink, Silva was there too, throwing a powerful punch—but Hisoka’s shadow vanished into a wisp, and his fist met only air.

“Retreat,” Silva shouted. “Barrier—now!”

Illumi and his brothers were quick to close the distance—even Milluki managing to keep up. Within moments, they reached the elders, who had already begun forming a nen bubble. Before it could seal, they stepped inside and joined the effort, feeding their energy into the shield.

Silva and Zeno’s shadows hovered in place, looking unresponsive. But Hisoka’s and Milluki’s wasted no time, charging at them the moment they could. The barrier held firm, keeping them at bay.

“What do we do?” Milluki said. “We—we can’t fight them.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Illumi said, sweat forming at his temple. “Just hold.”

Outside the power field, the two shadows halted their assault, and bent toward each other as if conspiring.

Then, without warning, they attacked in unison, concentrating all their force on a single point in the barrier.

“Shit-shit-shit-shit, it’s breaching!”

“Stay put.” 

"The barrier won’t hold. We need a new strategy. Now."

"Onii-sama, I can’t hold it much longer."

“Everybody, stay calm,” Zeno said. “Hold the barrier. I’ll charge an energy attack. On my signal, open a hole so I can strike.”

Illumi’s mind raced through possible strategies, each plan forming and discarding in seconds, when a bark rang out in the distance. His heart skipped. Mike. 

No.

No no no no no no.

If they get to Mike’s shadow too—

He turned in the direction of the bark, his pulse hammering in his skull.

Just then, something unexpected happened.

Mike advanced at full speed, paws slamming against the ground—a storm of muscle, teeth, and claws. His barking grew louder, deeper.

As the sound rolled closer, it hit the shadows like a physical blow. They twisted and writhed, and seemed unable to fade out the way they had with previous attacks.

“Create a gap in the barrier—now,” Silva said.

“Grandpa, go,” Illumi shouted.

For a moment now, Zeno had been gathering his aura, shaping it into a dense, spiraling bolt.

He launched it forward. 

The attack struck the shadows, its force slamming into them and dropping them where they stood.

The next instant, Mike tore across the ground, his jaws snapping around Milluki’s shadow. With a savage growl, he ragdolled it—whipping his head side to side, shaking it with all his canine force.

Hisoka’s shadow rushed to free its ally, somehow managing to pull it from Mike’s fangs.

Before anyone could react, the shadows seized Silva and Zeno’s stolen silhouettes and vanished into the burnt forest.

Mike sat back, barking in fierce, triumphant bursts. Good boy, indeed.

They held the barrier for a moment longer, waiting—until it became clear the shadows weren’t coming back. At least, not now.

“An explanation would be nice,” Silva said, eyes still fixed on the trees.

Kalluto took the cue and spoke up, Milluki dropped onto the ground with a sigh, and Zeno, listening as well, ran a hand along Mike’s fur.

They needed a plan, and fast— but first… Illumi reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Two missed calls from Hisoka. A knot formed in his gut as he tapped the call button. The line rang once. Twice.

Then Hisoka’s voice: “I was starting to worry. Are you alright?”

“We had a run-in with the shadows,” Illumi said. “We’re fine, but they got Silva and Zeno’s shadows too.”

Silence. Then, Hisoka exhaled through his nose. “Shit.”

“And you two? Are you ok?”

“We’re fine. And believe it or not, we have some good news for once,” Hisoka said. “There was a… minor complication, but we found the book.” A rustle of paper came through the line. “We’re still going through the instructions, but in short, we’ll need to stitch the shadows back to their owners. The ritual requires a mix of materials and items, Kikyo says the manor should have most of them, but we’re still missing one thing—silken moth thread.” 

“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Illumi said, already considering where they could find it.

“Duffy might know where to get it,” Hisoka said. “Probably our best lead.”

“Agreed. I still need to check with the others, but for now, I propose our group takes care of that while you two start gathering the rest of the materials. Also—” He cast a sideways glance at Mike, “We discovered something. The shadows seem sensitive to loud noises, or at least, to Mike’s barking. It throws them off for a moment.”

“That’s interesting.” 

Illumi gave a curt nod, then remembered Hisoka couldn’t see him. “We’ll contact Duffy,” he said, “and track down the silken moth thread. I’ll call you if there are any updates.”

“Likewise. Stay safe, Illumi.”

“You too,” Illumi replied, and pressed End Call.   

They had a plan and a potential new weapon. Maybe—just maybe—it would be enough to tip the odds in their favor.

But even with this small step forward and the brief reprieve they gained, the road ahead was still long.

And with every passing second came the promise of another disaster.

Chapter Text

By the time Illumi ended his call with Duffy, his family had reached a decision.

After some back-and-forth about their next move—especially concerning Mike, the crucial piece on their chessboard—they agreed that Kalluto, Milluki, and Mike would return to the manor to assist Mother and Hisoka, while Illumi, Silva, and Zeno would set off to find the Silken Moth thread. 

With only flawed choices at hand, it was the best they could do. His brothers would be safe with Mike, which meant Hisoka and Kaasan would be safe too. 

That thought alone was enough to lift some of the weight crushing his ribs.

“Alright you two,” Zeno said, motioning for Milluki and Kalluto to join Mike with a flick of his hand. "Up you go."

Milluki blinked at the dog, gazed across its enormity, and echoed. "...Up you go?" He turned to Zeno. “Has anyone done that before? Like, ever?”

"There’s honor in going first." Shadows or not Grandpa seemed as spirited as ever. "Mike can carry you both, and it’ll be quicker. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to run?"

“Ok, ok, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Zeno directed his gaze to Illumi. “If you will.”

Illumi knew what he was asked for. He approached Mike, placed a hand on his side, and focused on the dog’s Nen.

He and Mike had grown up side by side. When Illumi was seven or eight, Mike was just a pup, no bigger than Illumi was now. There was a camaraderie in their smallness, but that wasn’t the only thing that bound them; both were in training—Illumi under his elders, and Mike under Illumi.

It was around that time that Illumi first discovered Nen. Fascinated, he spent hours studying the auras around him, their shapes, colors, intensities. One of his earliest conclusions was that animals (and even certain objects) carried a faint, static amount of life energy. At first, Mike’s aura appeared no different, only stronger. But as Illumi studied him further, something else caught his eye. Every so often, thick, sluggish pockets of energy would rise—like magma pressing against the earth’s crust—hinting at a deeper power lying dormant within. 

Intrigued by his discovery, Illumi began experimenting on Mike’s aura, trying to see if he could unlock its full potential. For a while, nothing worked. Then, one day, he lent Mike a fraction of his own Nen, and in an instant, Mike’s aura boosted. 

When it settled, it was denser, and it flowed around him like that of a Nen user. Illumi couldn’t prove it, but he believed their auras had bonded that day. When he focused, he could feel the contours of Mike’s canine desires, and Mike, in turn, seemed to sense Illumi’s intentions. It was almost like a secret language.

Mike obeyed basic commands from any Zoldyck, but only Illumi could issue complex instructions with an almost 100% chance of being understood. Others had tried to replicate their bond, but none could. Whatever had happened that day, it belonged only to them.

“Mike,” Illumi said. The dog’s eyes—two black orbs set in that colossal skull—shifted to him. “You will allow Kalluto and Milluki on your back. Take them to the manor, keep them safe, and protect Mother and Hisoka too. If a shadow shows up, bark. Loudly.”

Mike let out a low huff, and his body sunk to the ground, like a collapsing mountain. His front legs stretched out, and his chin met the earth. His ears flicked once, then stilled.

“Alright. Yes, let’s do it.” Milluki moved to Mike’s side and gave him a few pats. He buried his hands in the thick fur, pushed off the ground with a grunt, and began climbing. His feet fumbled, and for a moment, it seemed he might slip, but somehow, he managed to haul himself onto Mike’s back on the first try. Settling into place, he clung to the thick ruff at Mike’s neck, catching his breath.

Kalluto followed with the grace and lightness of an acrobat. In a blink, he was already atop Mike, as if he had done this a hundred times before.

With both passengers on his back, Mike rose onto all fours. Milluki let out a squawk and tightened his grip.

“You know what to do,” Zeno said to the brothers. “And hold tight. We won’t have time to save you if you fall.”

“Wait, what?” Milluki asked.

Zeno gave the dog a firm pat and a “Go, boy” and Mike launched forward with all the speed and energy entrapped in his limbs.

Silva, who had been leaning against the Pyrolynx wall and watching in silence, stepped forward. “Let's go."

Zeno and Illumi nodded, and in near-perfect unison, all three broke into a run.

Earlier, when Illumi spoke with Duffy, it quickly became clear that finding and collecting the thread required more than a simple phone instruction: Duffy had to be there, in person. That’s why Illumi had ordered him to stay put, and now they were on their way to retrieve him.

Their path led them back through the charred remnants of the forest, then into denser foliage.

The run was pleasant in more ways than one, and for a brief moment, it made Illumi forget the grave danger they were in. His body, stiff from days of inactivity, craved the rush of speed. Longed for the way the forefoot of his shoes kissed the earth in a steady rhythm. And—perhaps it was silly—but running alongside his father and grandfather, three generations of Zoldycks moving as one, he felt something primal stir in him. A pack instinct. Like wolves cutting through the wilderness.

Within minutes, they emerged into a small clearing, where Duffy’s cabin sat nestled at its heart. It was a modest wooden home, well-maintained despite the passing years. It had honey-colored wooden panels, a stone chimney, and, to the side, a small garden with herbs, vegetables, and wildflowers.

They made no sound as they ran, but their presence sent a flock of birds scattering from the trees, painting the air with their cries and the frantic battling of their wings. The commotion drew Duffy’s attention, and Illumi saw him peeking through the window. A moment later, he stepped out of the cabin, and onto the wooden porch, before they even had a chance to knock.

"Greetings to you all," Duffy said. He was dressed for the outdoors in a flannel shirt layered under a multi-pocketed vest, paired with cargo pants and well-worn hiking boots.

"You're coming with us," Silva said.

Duffy nodded. "Yes, of course, Master Silva. Master Illumi told me all about the shadows—awful stuff, simply awful. Gave me the chills just hearing about it.” He shook his head. "Anyway, I'm all packed and ready to go.” He patted a leather satchel slung over his shoulder. "Got everything to collect the threads—and a little extra, because, well, you never know!"

"Where are they?" Zeno asked. "The moths?"

"They live in a cave system not far from here, in that direction. We should reach it on foot in twenty or thirty minutes."

"Good. Let’s go—and stay close."

"Yes, Master Zeno." Duffy straightened his posture, slung his satchel higher on his shoulder, and fell into step beside the Zoldycks, who had already set off toward the cave.

The four of them settled into a brisk walk.

"So here’s what's to know about the threads,” Duffy said. “They come from Silken Moth cocoons and are spun from pure silver silk, said to be ‘delicate as a whisper but strong as iron.’ They’re not easy to collect, but the good news is, we only need one in good condition. You might ask why? Because each cocoon contains a single silk thread that can stretch anywhere from 300 to 500 meters. Isn’t that incredible?"

“That’s convenient,” Illumi said, since it seemed Duffy expected an answer.

"Yes, it is! Now, as I told Master Illumi—" Duffy glanced at Silva and Zeno. "The cocoons blend into the rock walls and are difficult to spot, especially in such a large cave. But no need to worry, I know what signs to look for and how to collect them without causing damage. I’ve worked with their silk before. Believe it or not, I once used it to repair my fishing net, and let me tell you, it worked like a charm."

Silence.

"So, in short, I’ll be able to handle that, no problem!” 

They continued along their path, walking beneath swaying pine branches and passing through the air scented with resin and damp earth. The Zoldyck were silent, both in step and demeanor, while Duffy’s boots kept betraying his presence with every crunch.

About fifteen minutes in, Duffy’s breath grew heavy and uneven. His foot caught on an exposed root, and he stumbled. Arms flailing, he barely managed to regain his balance.

“Apologies,” he said, bending over, hands gripping his knees. “Just…need a moment, I’ll join you in a whiff.”

Illumi knew better than to leave Duffy alone, so he stayed behind while Silva and Zeno had already moved several steps ahead. When Duffy straightened and pushed forward, Illumi adjusted to his slower pace, his eyes never resting and vigilant of their surroundings.

Duffy cleared his throat.

“Master Illumi,” he said. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say—if I may?”

Illumi gave him a small nod, eyes still roving between the tree trunks. “Go ahead.” 

“I’ve worked for the Zoldyck family for a long time, and every day I hear people speaking with admiration and respect, but with Mr. Hisoka… Whenever he speaks of you, there’s a kind of warmth I don’t hear often. I believe you mean a great deal to him, Master Illumi, and—if I may say so—you two seem to fit together in a way few do. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn."

Illumi’s heart beat a fraction faster. “He did? He spoke of me?”

“Yes, but please don’t worry, only in passing,” Duffy added quickly, “He would say things like, ‘If he were here, he’d already have a plan for that. Probably three.’ Or, ‘I hope Illumi got enough sleep today.’ And once, ‘I bet Illumi would love this flower.’ Just little things that let you know someone’s on their mind.”

Illumi’s gaze dropped from the trees to Duffy’s face. A pause stretched between them, and Illumi didn’t quite know how to reply. Then, finally, he said, “I appreciate you telling me.”

“No trouble at all, Master Illumi. Just thought you ought to know.”

“We should catch up.” 

“Yes, I think I can keep up again.”

Not long after, they arrived at a cave resting at the base of a rocky hillside. Its mouth was tall and wide enough to swallow them all in one go, and as they stepped closer, it exhaled a slow, cold breath that carried the scent of wet stone and earth. 

Duffy reached into his satchel and pulled out a few flashlights. “Here,” he offered. “One for each.”

Zeno waved a dismissive hand. “No need. We see fine in the dark.” Beside him, Silva gave a small nod.

“Alright.” Duffy kept one flashlight for himself, and turned it on. He didn’t step inside just yet, instead, he moved the beam across the gloom. They saw the vast stone belly of the first chamber, a high ceiling arching above them like ribs, and further, narrow corridors that carved through the earth like veins. 

Illumi had walked these caves before. He didn’t need to see them to know how they stretched and twisted into a natural labyrinth of rock and darkness—widening, narrowing, splitting into passageways before converging again.

Duffy took a few lethargic steps forward, barely crossing the cave's threshold before coming to a stop.

“Duffy,” Illumi said.

"It’s just that—" Duffy turned, and his gaze ping-ponged between their faces. "I was just thinking. A lot of places for the shadows to hide. A lot."

Zeno regarded him for a moment before inclining his head slightly. "Let us worry about that. You worry about the moths. Can you do that?" 

“Yes, Master Zeno.” Duffy squared his shoulders, and adjusted the grip on his flashlight. “All right, let’s see… The moths tend to nest deeper in. We’ll need to check the passages ahead.”

Duffy moved forward, and they followed along.

Soon, Illumi’s pupils dilated, adjusting to the blackness around him. True to his grandfather’s words, he remained vigilant. His gaze swept across the rock formations, searching for hostile forces between the stalactites on the ceiling and the fissures in the walls.

The deeper they went, the colder it became. They had already come a long way when, in one of the narrow corridors, Duffy halted and approached one of the walls. He pressed a finger against it. “Scuff marks here.” He moved a few steps ahead. “And here.” He turned to them. “We’re close.” 

At the next crossroad, Duffy took the right turn. The passage opened into a vast chamber, much like the others they had passed—except for a column of light spilling through an opening high above one of the rock walls.

Duffy paused at the entrance, running his flashlight along the space. 

“That’s it, we have it. See there?” He pointed deeper inside with the light beam, toward one of the rock faces.

Even with his sharp eyesight, Illumi needed a moment to spot them—an agglomeration of irregular shapes clinging to the wall, so well-matched to the stone that they almost vanished into it.

"The moths are somewhere up there.” Duffy pointed to the stalagmites on the ceiling. “The moment we get close to their cocoons, they’ll come down to defend them. They’re big, venomous, and very, very territorial."

Illumi pulled out his needles. They found their home between his fingers, as instinctively as a pianist’s hands would find the keys.

“No, wait—please!” Duffy said, throwing himself between Illumi and the cavern entrance, almost tripping over a loose rock. “They’re rare, precious creatures! As far as I know, they only exist here on Kukuroo Mountain.” He took a steadying breath. “Please, Master Illumi. Trust me. I have a better way.”  

Illumi studied him for a few heartbeats, then returned the pins back into place.

Duffy dug into his satchel and pulled out a lantern with a handle at its base, and a cylindrical glass chamber on top. It was filled with an amber liquid that reminded Illumi of Hisoka’s eyes.

“Pheromones,” Duffy said. “This will lure them away from the nest. They’ll follow the scent, and once they’re distracted, I can collect the cocoons.”

Duffy twisted a dial on the handle. The liquid bubbled and turned fluorescent, and a thin streak of vapor seeped from the top. An aroma of overripe, fermented sweetness diffused into the air and tickled Illumi’s nostrils. He fought the instinct to sneeze. 

“If I may ask…” He nudged the lantern toward them, waiting for someone to claim it.

Silva extended his hand and took it without a word. 

“Thank you, Master Silva. Would you mind leading them over there, to that corner?” Duffy pointed toward a spot on the opposite side of the cavern, away from the nest. After a moment he added, “Oh, and please don’t worry, they won’t sting you. They only do that to defend their nest.”

Silva smiled the kind of slight smile he wore when he was in on a joke, then raised the lantern and began waving it side to side as he made his way toward the designated spot.

Above them, among the stalactites, something scratched and moved. One by one, moths as large as a human head emerged from their hiding places and descended toward the source of the aroma.

Their bodies were covered in soft white fur, and their wings were the color of aluminium. Whenever they caught the light, the silver fractals rippled like liquid mercury stirred by their motion. The illusion was hypnotic, as if they were made of molten metal rather than flesh and chitin. At least fifteen of them gathered around Silva, orbiting in the lantern’s glow.

Illumi and Zeno remained near the entrance, standing guard, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger.

Meanwhile, Duffy got to work. Tweezers in one hand, torch in the other, he approached the nest and began inspecting the cocoon-covered wall.

“Here we go, this one.” Duffy pinched a cocoon between the tweezers and started working it loose. The fibers resisted at first, but after a few minutes of delicate wedging, they began to separate from the wall, and the cocoon came free. A grunt followed. "This one's useless. Mold’s already spread inside." He ran his fingers over the wall, searching. "Alright, this one looks better. Let’s see..." 

Illumi felt a prickle at the back of his neck. A moment passed, then another. 

Just as he considered it might be another false alarm, movement caught his eye. From the depths of the corridor, two shadows came racing in their direction.  

“Shadows!” Illumi threw up a barrier, cutting off their entry. Almost as quickly, Zeno stepped in to reinforce it.

“Oh, sweet potatoes!” Duffy called out from behind them. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” 

Silva’s shadow struck first, launching against the barrier with a torrent of lightning-fast punches. Each strike weakened it little by little. Meanwhile, Zeno’s shadow stood still, a swirling mass of power gathering between its hands. 

“Dad!” Illumi shouted.

Already on his way to help them, Silva flung the lantern aside; it shattered on impact, sending moths spiraling above the amber puddle.

He reinforced the barrier, just in time.

Instead of breaking through it, the energy bolt exploded against the shield. But not all of it. A splinter of that force ripped through their Nen, and whipped past them with a crackling hiss.

Behind them, Duffy screamed.

Illumi shot a glance back, to see Duffy on the ground with his sleeves catching fire. “The cocoon!” Duffy frantically beat at the flames. “Gone! I’ll need another one.”

“Be quick,” Illumi shouted. Sweat rolled down his temple. Holding the barrier was getting harder by the second. 

"Yes, sure, yes—got it," Duffy said. “Alright, nice and steady, nice and steady…” 

The barrier quaked under the neverending attacks, weakening again despite their combined efforts.

“Almost… almost—” 

Duffy let out a high-pitched, squeak. “Got it!”

There was no time to celebrate. Under the next assault, the barrier caved inward and thinned almost to the point of disintegration. 

They were barely holding it together. 

“Retreat!” Silva said. “Illumi, protect Duffy.”

A thousand doubts flashed through Illumi’s mind.

We can’t fight them. This is suicide. Even if we stall, they’ll crush us. There’s no way out.  

But all he said was, “Yes.” 

Under the next hits, the barrier collapsed, but Illumi hardly registered it as he spun on his heel, and sprinted toward Duffy. 

He cast a protective Nen capsule around him, just in time. If he'd been even a second slower, Duffy would already be dead.

Silva’s shadow struck the capsule with terrifying speed. Illumi gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of his power into the shield—but even then, it was barely enough.

At the same time Silva and Zeno kept dodging Zeno’s shadow attacks, left, right, left, striking whenever they saw an opening. Without luck. 

Illumi tried to divert the attention of Silva’s shadow, launching pins at it. But the moment they reached it, the figure dissolved into air, and then reformed a heartbeat later, continuing its assault unharmed and unbothered.

“What’s the plan?” Illumi asked, watching Duffy’s capsule shrink and shudder under another series of blows. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

“Hold on,” Zeno said. For once, Illumi suspected there was no real plan. Only the struggle to survive.

“If only Mike were here,” Illumi said. 

But at least Hisoka and the others weren’t. Maybe that meant they still had a chance to surv—

“Mike. The barking,” Duffy said, and smacked his forehead. "Wait! Yes—Master Illumi, hold on. I think I’ve got it.”

His hands shook as he patted down his jacket, unzipped a pocket, and pulled out something small and white.

A whistle.

He raised it to his lips and blew.

A high-pitched shriek rang through the cavern, bouncing off the stone walls.

And it worked. It worked. The shadows shuddered, their inky outlines curling inward, warping, twisting. They clutched their heads as if trying to block out the noise.

Illumi let the shield drop, and within seconds Zeno and Silva were at his side.

“We have to retreat,” Illumi said.

“No, there.” Zeno pointed upward, indicating the opening in the cave wall. It wasn’t big, but yes, it would be enough to pass one by one. “Go.”

Illumi didn’t need to be told twice. He kicked off the ground, launching himself upward. One, three, five. In rapid, feline-like springs, he bounced up, his feet barely brushing the rock face, until, with a final push, he shot through the opening and landed in a crouch just beyond the edge.

Zeno followed in the same fashion, leaping from rock to rock. 

The last one was Silva. With his powerful arm, he grabbed Duffy, slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and took off. Duffy yelped, and the whistle dropped from his lips. 

At the last second, he caught it and clenched it in his fist.

Silva’s final leap carried them both through the gap. They were out.

Duffy’s face was beet red, but he kept blowing the whistle, refusing to relent.

The Zoldycks didn’t waste time. They grabbed the largest boulders they could find and stacked them over the opening. 

Even when the gap was sealed, they kept adding stones, layer upon layer, until not even a paper-thin shadow could slip through.

"That should do it," Silva said, dusting off his hands.

Zeno turned to Duffy. “It’s okay. You can stop now.”

Duffy let go of the whistle, and collapsed onto his back. His chest rose and fell while he was gasping for air.

Suddenly, he bolted upright, eyes wide.

“The moths! Do you think they’ll be okay?”

~~~

Hisoka and Kikyo walked along the corridor, each carrying an assortment of supplies in their arms. 

Earlier, they had debated where to set up base and finally settled on one of the lounge rooms at the front of the manor. The decision was both strategic and practical: the room was adjacent to the kitchen, making supply runs easier, and close to the entrance in case a quick escape became necessary. Along the way, they had gathered everything for the ritual that couldn’t be found in the kitchen, and now they were headed straight to their new, temporary refuge.

Kikyo was walking behind him, and he could feel her gaze lingering on him. Twice before, he had caught her staring, and each time she had looked away, feigning disinterest. It would probably be the same if he turned to check now.

What she was thinking, he couldn’t guess, but she seemed less icy and guarded, and more contemplative. It amused him to think how he had possibly become a puzzle she cared enough to solve. Was that it?

The silence between them persisted. They spoke only in brief, practical terms: ‘Not that bottle—the other one,’ ‘I could use help with this door,’ or ‘Turn here.’ Still, the earlier hostility had given way to something more neutral, as if the atmosphere had cleared after a storm. Even her aura had settled, no longer so heavy or invasive.

“Next room on the right,” Kikyo said.

Hisoka followed her direction, though the instruction was unnecessary—he had already been here more than a few times. 

The room was spacious but rather empty, offering few places for shadows to hide due to the minimal furnishings. A single window looked out onto the grounds. The fireplace along one of the walls crackled and hissed, washing the room in a dim orange light. Four armchairs sat near the hearth, arranged atop a rug.

Hisoka approached the carpet, which featured a jungle pattern in muted green tones, dotted with pale, white orchids and the occasional yellow parrot among the foliage. He crouched, setting down his cargo and retrieving Kikyo’s as well—a variety of pills and other apothecary supplies, chalk, needles, scissors, and plant misters. 

“So,” he said, rising and looking at Kikyo, “how shall we organize ourselves from here? You could stay and sort the supplies, and I could finish gathering everything from the kitchen.”

If films had taught him anything, it was that splitting up while a dangerous entity lurked nearby wasn’t the smartest idea. Then again, the kitchen was just there—within sight, and only a call away should things go south.

“I suppose that could work. I will tell you where to look for the supplies,” Kikyo turned to him. The firelight danced across the surface of her visor. “Start with Tetrodotoxin, Curare, and Alpha-latrotoxin. You will find them in one of the drawers on the left side.”  

“Sure,” Hisoka said. “But now I’m curious. Why keep poisons in the kitchen?”

“They say my cooking is to die for, so I thought I’d keep the ingredients to match.”

Was that...? Had she just— Hisoka couldn’t believe it. Yes ladies and gentleman, Kikyo Zoldyck had a sense of humor.

Hisoka let out an amused hum. “I’m both reassured and ever-so-slightly disappointed that the chefs are the ones in charge of the meals these days.”

And then there it was. A micro-smile, barely-there and disappearing almost immediately.

But oh, he saw it.

Kikyo knelt on the rug and began sorting the items, her methodical approach reminding Hisoka of the way Illumi prepared for a job. How curious.

Hisoka moved to the kitchen, being mindful to leave the door ajar as he went. He reached the poison drawer, and pulled it open. 

His fingers ran over the vials, each arranged in its compartment. Such exquisite tiny killers, lined up like soldiers waiting to be selected for duty. He selected the required vials one at a time and set them on the counter. “Got it. What’s next?” 

“Pick a medium pot, you'll find it in one of the cupboards under the oven. And since you’re there, fill it one-third with water.”

Hisoka let out a low hum as he opened the cupboard and chose a stainless steel pot that looked perfectly medium-sized. He carried it over, placed it in the sink, reached for the faucet—

Then stopped.

There was a crash, from somewhere deeper in the house, possibly something falling to the ground. “Kikyo?”

No response. His heart skipped a beat. Splitting up had been a mistake.  

He rushed back to the lounge room.

He was already considering what to do next when he heard the familiar voices and sensed the corresponding auras.

With a calmer breath, Hisoka approached the corridor, where he was met with a curious scene. 

Mike's head obstructed the entrance, along with his massive paws, splayed on the marble floor, while the rest of his body, too big to fit within the manor’s confines, extended out into the open air.  

One of the large paintings had succumbed to Mike’s entrance and was now lying on the floor with a shattered frame.

Kikyo was stroking Kalluto and Milluki, and with a voice oscillating between worry and relief kept exclaiming, “My babies!”

Hisoka stepped closer and studied Milluki, whose palm was pressed against the wall—probably the only thing keeping him upright. “Are you okay? You look a bit green.”

"I’m fine, just—" Milluki burped. "Need a moment, that's all."

“It’s good to see you two. Or three, actually.” 

“Likewise,” Kalluto said. “We’re here to assist with whatever we can.” He paused, and his gaze travelled between Hisoka and Kikyo. “On our way back, we didn’t see any shadows, but we found some dead butlers lying along the path.” 

Hisoka could have commented on how this was definitely not a good thing, but it was obvious enough, and there was no point in lowering the already low morale.

"Let’s get moving, then," he said. “We need to prepare everything for the ritual.”

They all agreed and returned to the lounge room to do just that.

~~~

The ritual to bind the shadows back to their corporeal forms consisted of three straightforward steps.

Step one: The shadow had to be immobilized. Since asking nicely wasn’t an option, they would use a mixture of paralyzing and calming agents, delivered via a plant mister.

Step two: Containment. They would need to draw a chalk circle, complete with runes around the shadow. And here’s the good news: as long as the circle remained intact, the shadow would stay sedated. The bad news? If the circle broke, the effect of the mixture would be temporary at best, and everything would go to hell.

Step three: If they made it this far, the real ritual would begin. The shadow’s rightful owner would have to step inside the circle, and with the help of silver thread—a link between the spiritual and the physical—the shadow would be stitched right back where it belonged.

Straightforward? Maybe. But only if everything went according to plan—which, let’s be real, was a long shot. There were too many ways for this to go sideways. Hisoka had a gut feeling, one he’d bet his Hunter license on, that this wouldn’t be easy at all. There would be blood, struggle, and failure before they got anywhere close to success. If they ever did.

But at least they had a plan. At least they had a shot at fixing this mess.

And now, they were here, almost at the finish line of their preparations. Kalluto and Kikyo were brewing the mixture over the fireplace. Milluki had scattered pots and spatulas around the room as an improvised sound-defense system, opened the window, and stationed Mike outside as a guard. Meanwhile, Hisoka sat cross-legged on the rug, assembling a kit of needles, scissors, and chalk for everyone.

A week ago, if someone had told him he’d be performing an arcane ritual within the walls of the Zoldyck estate, alongside the Zoldycks themselves, he would have laughed. But here he was.

“Is it just me, or does that stuff smell like old onions?” Milluki asked, wrinkling his nose.

Kalluto glanced at Milluki, and seemed to consider the question. “There were no onions in the mixture.”

“Tell that to my nose. It stinks.”

“It’s not exactly pleasant. But I suppose, given the complicated nature of the situation, the solution couldn’t be pleasant either.”

“Ha! Complicated, ” Miluki said. “This isn’t complicated—it’s a disaster. Worse than when Tanya’s wedding got wrecked by that earthquake mid-vows, and she found out she was about to marry her own mummified ancestor, disguised with Nen by her ex-lover.”

Hisoka’s lips quirked into a half-smile.

“I’d argue the avalanche fiasco is a more fitting comparison,” Hisoka said, packing a piece of chalk into the next pouch. “The one where the entire Hunter squad got trapped in a single cabin, and Gabron had to juggle his two fiancés in front of everyone. With that whole brawl at the end.”

Silence. Hisoka glanced up and met every set of eyes now fixed on him.

“Wait, you watch Love & Nen too?” Kalluto asked.

“Sure. Try not to miss an episode if I can help it.”

“Really?” Milluki said. “We, um, we watch it every Friday. Me, Kalluto, and Mama.”

“We use Illumi’s license to log into the Hunter TV station, and Otousan lets us borrow the big TV in his study. He never joins us, though,” Kalluto said, his tone suddenly enthusiastic. “And there’s always popcorn, and Okaasan makes those special cookies for us.”

“You always eat too much, though! I keep saying, three per person,” Kikyo said.

“They’re too delicious,” Kalluto said. “And Illumi—” 

“Oh man, Illumi is the best,” Milluki cut in. “He never gets the plot right! Mixes up all the characters—especially the cameo Hunters—and then goes, ‘Wait, who’s engaged to who now?’”

“He used to watch it with us too,” Kikyo said. “But he hardly joins us anymore."

A silence followed, and the air lost the lightness it had carried only moments before.

Illumi did still watch Love & Nen—just not with his family. These days, it was just the two of them: Illumi wrapped in blankets like a burrito, pressed against his side as they lounged with a glass of champagne and a platter of deli bites. And, yes, he still mixed up every storyline and half the cast with absolute conviction, which never failed to amuse him—especially since he took it all so seriously.

It was clear: the Zoldycks missed their time with him, even if they’d never say it outright. Had he… stolen Illumi from them? From their traditions?

The thought circled his mind like a persistent bee, stinging with every pass.

"Let’s focus on getting out of this mess first, hmm? Then you can go back to your Friday nights like nothing ever happened."

“Yeah, if we survive this, I’m rewatching season 23.”

The potion over the fire hissed and gurgled, sending up a cloud of steam into the air. Kikyo and Kalluto peered into the pot.

"Okaasan, what do you think? Is it ready?"

Kikyo gave the potion a swirl, lifted the ladle, and tilted it, observing how the greenish liquid poured back into the rest of the paralyzing mixture.

"Yes. It’s ready. Let’s fill the misters."

Kalluto took one of the spray bottles and held it firm while Kikyo filled a ladle with the potion, and poured it inside in a steady stream.

They had just begun filling the third bottle—halfway done—when the first specks of ash fell from the chimney above the fireplace, floating through the air like gray snowflakes.

A burst of air followed, shooting downward and wrapping Kikyo and Kalluto in a choking cloud of soot and grit.

Kikyo turned her head away, pressing her face into her sleeve, but Kalluto wasn’t fast enough. He inhaled the ash and, a moment later, doubled over, succumbing to a violent coughing fit.

That’s when they came.

The shadows burst out from the chimney—one, two, three, four. Hisoka’s shadow kicked the pot with force, sending its contents splattering across the floor in a hissing, bubbling puddle.

Kikyo leaped back just in time to avoid the spill, though the hem of her dress brushed the liquid, darkening on contact.

Milluki grabbed the nearest spatula with shaking hands and hammered it against a pot, metal clashing against metal in a discordant rhythm.

"Mike!" Kalluto called, and that was enough for the guard dog to break into a deep, continuous bark. 

But the shadows remained still, smiling in a goosebump-raising way.

Moments later, they moved, and that’s when Hisoka saw it.

Their ears. Or, to be precise, what was inside them.

Somehow—God knows how—they had molded earplugs out of shreds of shadow. Maybe the butler’s? Black, crumpled things, pulsing as if alive.

Oh yeah. They were screwed.

Chapter Text

The shadows were still wearing their unsettling smiles when they sprang forward and charged.

In near unison, Hisoka and the Zoldycks activated their Nen barriers—too scattered to form a single shield—and the shadows with equal organization, paired off at once: one attacker for one prey.

At first, Hisoka thought he had it easy, since he had been targeted by Milluki’s shadow, however, he quickly reconsidered his assessment. Milluki kept his distance, but that didn’t make him any less of a threat—from his outstretched hand, he released a swarm of Nen nanobots, small, glinting, and buzzing like metal bees. Under his command, they organized into formation, took the shape of a hammer, and in the next instant, crashed against Hisoka’s barrier. Blow after blow, the shield trembled and weakened under the weight of their unified force.

Everything was happening too fast, and Hisoka could hardly process what was going on around him, too focused on maintaining his defense and thinking of something—anything—to do. That was, until he heard a scream from the other side of the room. It was Kalluto. His barrier was gone, Zeno’s shadow held him in a grip, and Silva’s was crouched beside him, cutting through Kalluto’s shadow.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

There was no more time to think or hesitate, so, after a deep breath, Hisoka set his improvised plan into motion. He waited for the right moment between Milluki’s relentless attacks, then let his Nen barrier drop. He sprinted toward Kalluto, and, at the same time, threw two strings of Bungee Gum backward toward the plant misters scattered across the floor.

They retracted toward him with vicious speed.

He caught them in the air, twisted the nozzles, and—while internally praying for this to work—sprayed the poisonous elixir over Zeno’s and Silva’s shadows, careful not to put Kalluto in the line of fire.

There was no dramatic hiss, nor did the potion trigger any spectacular reaction, but the shadows froze in place as they were—Silva’s hunched, Zeno’s hovering a few centimeters above the floor. 

“Go,” Hisoka said, pulling Kalluto away from them and pushing him toward Milluki and Kikyo. Kalluto stumbled off with his shadow half-cut, looking dazed and confused. 

Hisoka secured the plant misters to a strand of Bungee Gum at his waist like holstered pistols, then reached into his pocket for the anti-shadow kit. He removed a single stick of white chalk and crouched beside Silva’s shadow.

As fast as he could, Hisoka drew a circle around it, feeling his hand grow sweaty and his breath turn shallow. The powder hissed when he pressed it against the marble floor. The book had been clear: one circle per shadow, fully closed and complete with runes. Without that, the binding would fail.

Hisoka finished the circle. Yes. YES. Now, for the runes. He started drawing them around the ring—six in total, easy enough to recall without rechecking the instructions.

Midway through, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. When he glanced up, he saw Zeno’s shadow twitching and warping, like a glitch on a computer screen, before coming alive again. The paralysis had worn off.

“No.”

Hisoka hurried to complete the runes and, at the same time, activated his barrier, bracing for the strike. But the blow never came. Instead, Zeno’s shadow dragged its phantom foot across the chalk, breaking the circle and pulling Silva’s shadow free.

He was so close. It was obvious now—this wouldn’t work. Not like this. The moment they trapped one shadow, the others would break it loose. There was no sealing them one by one.

Hisoka rose and sprinted toward the others, who had regrouped behind a single shield and were fending off attacks from Milluki’s and Hisoka’s shadows. In a lull between strikes, the Zoldycks parted the barrier just enough to let him through. Hisoka rushed inside and reinforced the shield from within.

“We need a plan.”

“Hisoka-san… what should we do?”

Both of the younger Zoldycks stared at him, expectant, which was rather sweet. Too bad Hisoka didn’t have a clue what they should do.

Kikyo looked at him. “I’ve seen what you can do. You’re a strategist,” she said, calm even as the barrier shook around them. “You can do this. So do it.”

For a heartbeat, something swelled in his chest and made him feel strangely weightless. The woman who had treated him as a nuisance at worst and a reluctant ally at best was now praising him, however austere the praise was. Not only that—Kikyo had enough trust to rely on him with her life and the lives of her sons.

Okay. No pressure.

A new impact shook the barrier, harder than before, as Silva and Zeno’s shadows joined the assault. 

Hisoka took a deep breath. In the middle of the chaos, as the air cracked and the floor shook, he closed his eyes and shut out the world, focusing on the next move. Fight? Impossible. Run? Pointless. Bind them—yes, but how?

Think, think. There has to be something. A gamble. A trick.

He shuffled through the possible options, flipping them over one by one in search of something he could bet on. The hand was hopeless, stacked with nothing but bad draws, each foreshadowing disaster: failure, death, the shadows left free to hunt Illumi and the others.

No. Keep going. There’s something. There must be.

He pushed back the rising panic and sifted through the remaining choices. One caught his attention—a possibility he’d almost dismissed at first. It was reckless, with every chance of going terribly wrong, but it was the only one that offered even the faintest chance of success. 

The decision locked into place. Risk everything, or accept certain loss. It had to be this. 

When he opened his eyes, the Zoldycks were watching him. Waiting.

Hisoka knew better than to speak the plan out loud, so he said nothing of it, sharing only what they needed to know.

“I have an idea,” Hisoka said. “You’ll need to drop the barrier, stay very close to each other, and defend yourselves with everything you have. Like your lives depend on it. Because they do. Can you do that?”

The Zoldycks exchanged glances. Then they nodded.

“I’ll trust you,” Kikyo said. “Get us out of this. Prove me right.”

“I’ll do what I can. Oh, and by the way—” He pulled out and threw one of the plant misters toward her. Kikyo caught it in the air and gave him a nod. “Alright. Ready?” Hisoka was anything but calm, but at least his voice didn’t show it. “On my three. One…”

Kalluto took out his fan and snapped it open. Milluki summoned his swarm of nanobots. Kikyo raised the plant mister, fingers tightening around it like a trigger.

“Two…”

Another impact. The barrier was barely holding.

“Three. Go!”

The barrier popped like a soap bubble.

In the same instant, the Zoldycks and Hisoka converged around each other, forming a tight circle, standing back to back. The shadows closed in fast and hungry, like hounds on the scent.  

Kalluto sliced the air with his fan in quick, sharp arcs. He wasn’t able to land a hit—as expected—but he forced his attackers to fade and kept them too occupied to strike back. Milluki formed a living armor of nanobots around himself, the swarm constantly replacing damaged units and sealing any gaps. Kikyo sprayed short bursts of poisonous mist. The shadows twisted unnaturally, arching and writhing to avoid the liquid, but it was enough to keep them at bay and buy precious time.

And Hisoka—Hisoka was already putting his plan into motion, even as he dodged attacks from Silva’s shadow, who stayed on him, brutal and relentless. He deflected blow after blow, but every so often, Silva’s fist found its mark, hitting him with the force of a cannon blast. Each impact rippled through his body, knocking the air from his lungs. He stayed upright, mostly uninjured for now, but without his natural layer of Ten, he would’ve been as good as dead.

Hisoka ducked low, flung a few cards, their razor-sharp edges cutting through the air with a zip, and dodged again as the next flurry of punches came his way.

All the while, he was close to completing the first part of his plan. He applied selective Zetsu to his Bungee Gum and directed one of the threads upward, stretching it wide to form a shallow bowl suspended above the battlefield. Another strand reached for the plant mister at his waist, working to unscrew it without drawing attention. 

It was already a strain to maintain focus—and he was about to add even more to juggle. But if he could hold it all together just a little longer… it would work. It had to.

Now or never.

First, the gamble: the same tentacle that had uncapped the mister now wrapped around it, cloaking it from sight by suppressing its aura with Zetsu. Hisoka worried, for a brief moment, that one of the shadows might notice the container’s sudden disappearance, but none seemed to. They were too absorbed in the assault, too close to victory to imagine any kind of rebellion forming beneath their noses. Good. He lifted the mister and poured its toxic contents into the shallow bowl above. Now came the trickiest part. In the same breath, he shaped small, colander-like holes into the bowl and cast a protective membrane of Bungee Gum over himself and the Zoldycks. He concentrated, transmuting the shields to have less gum, more rubber. Smooth. Resistant. Non-absorbent.

The next moment, it all came down. The liquid poured through the holes in a wide, falling spray.

The poison rolled off the protective layer like rain on glass—but when it reached the shadows, they froze: some mid-strike, others mid-dodge, paralyzed by the mist.

“Seal them. Circles, now!” Kikyo said.

Hisoka and the Zoldycks crouched over the floor, chalk in hands. White circles bloomed across the marble tiles, one for each shadow, their edges inscribed with runes.

“Done!” Milluki said.

“Me too,” Kalluto said.

Kikyo and Hisoka finished and stood in near unison. For a moment, none of them moved, glancing at one another—tentative, as if waiting to see if it had worked.

Had they really pulled it off?

“Fuck yeah, we actually did it! Suck on that you motherfuckers.” Milluki said, stomping once for punctuation.

“Language!” Kikyo said, but then she hugged him all the same and smoothed a hand through Kalluto’s hair. She turned to Hisoka and gave him a small, genuine smile. He smiled back.

Just then, Hisoka sensed movement at the periphery of his vision, and when he turned to look, he found his own shadow twitching inside one of the circles. One glance down, and he saw it—the mistake in one of Kalluto’s runes. Another glance up, and the shadow was already free of the binding.

Shit. If it free the others, or reaches Illumi—

Move. Now.

“Here, shadow, shadow,” Hisoka said, backing toward the far end of the room and away from the circles, trying to keep his voice light while his mind raced. He had no idea what he was going to do. He just knew he needed to keep it away and distracted.

The Zoldycks reacted just as quickly. Kikyo fired a burst from the mister—it missed, but came close enough to make the shadow retreat. She held her ground, guarding the circles, while behind her, Kalluto and Milluki hurried to double-check the remaining runes.

The shadow, for once, seemed hesitant, caught halfway between Kikyo and Hisoka, its gaze darting back and forth between the two.

Think of something, think.

“You’re the same as me, aren’t you?” Hisoka said with a grin, still backing away. “You know who I am.”

It tilted its head. Motionless. Listening.

“I don’t need a family. Never did.” Hisoka’s back touched the wall. “Only ever needed Illumi.”

The shadow took a few steps forward, cautiously angled to keep the Zoldycks in view.

“Let’s make a deal,” Hisoka said. “Spare Illumi and me, and I’ll help you get to them. Kill them all. Hell, why not? We could spread a little mayhem together—if you’re up for it. Sound good?”

Hisoka grinned and stretched out his hand, casual, like he was about to greet an old friend. The shadow paused, glancing toward the Zoldycks, who stood there, still and speechless, and Hisoka took the opening to wink at Kikyo, hoping she returned the signal beneath her visor.

After a beat, the shadow turned its back on the group and extended a hand toward him.

Hisoka clasped it—cold and slightly slimy—and at that same moment he saw Kikyo move. Two red ribbons burst from beneath her sleeves, shooting upward and anchoring to the ceiling. In a blink, she lifted off the ground and swung across the room in a triple midair spin that reminded Hisoka of a trapeze performer.

“Great deal. But guess what?” Hisoka said, just as Kikyo landed behind the shadow—elegant and silent.

“I’m not you anymore.”

Kikyo sprayed the shadow before it could react, freezing it instantly.

“Quick,” she said.

But Hisoka was already moving—reaching for his chalk and dropping to the floor to draw the circle. Kikyo crouched beside him, adding runes along the edges.

They didn’t rush for victory. Not this time. Instead, they double- and triple-checked every line and symbol. Only when they were absolutely certain did they rise from the floor—just in time to feel and hear the familiar auras racing toward them.

Hisoka saw Illumi first. He always did. It had only been hours, but it felt like a century since they’d been in the same room. His body ached with the urge to cross the space in a rush—to reach him, to touch him. If not for the promise to follow the Zoldyck rules of decorum, he’d already be there, arms locked around him in a crushing embrace, and no force known to man could’ve pulled him away.

Zeno, Silva, and a breathless Duffy were there too, and for a moment, they looked around the room as if assessing the situation.

"You're all a bit late for a deus ex machina," Hisoka said, grinning. "But perfectly on time for the afterparty."

Illumi looked at him. "Does that mean—"

"Yes! Hell yes. We made it," Milluki said, stepping forward. The rest followed, converging into a small group. "You guys should’ve seen us! We were incredible."

"We wouldn’t have made it without Hisoka-san," Kalluto said, his voice bright with excitement. "He was quick to think and act, and he saved me from the shadows too."

"You two did well yourselves. Very organized," Hisoka said, his gaze resting on Milluki. "Your Hatsu’s fascinating. Kikyo’s too, for the record."

Milluki puffed up just a little. "Thanks. I’ve been working on it forever, but I don’t get many chances to test it in the field, so that was kind of fun. I mean—except for the whole ‘we’re all gonna die’ bit." He looked at Hisoka. "Yeah, you’re not bad either. That move you did with the shields and the liquid, it was like some action movie stuff."

"Well, thank you." 

Who would’ve thought, even Mini Menace was complimenting him now. What a day.

A new, bright energy charged the air as the group caught up to the realization: they had made it. They had survived. They had defeated something that, until moments ago, had seemed impossible to even slow down.

When Hisoka looked around, laughter and smiles spread like wildfire. Voices were animated, overlapping, crashing into each other in their eagerness to recount what they'd done, and how close to defeat they had come. Even Silva seemed relaxed, speaking to Kikyo with something resembling enthusiasm. 

And then—Hisoka’s gaze found Illumi.

Still. Wordless. Eyes locked on him, ignoring the friendly chaos all around them.

And he was smiling. Not his usual subtle tug of the lips—lovely, nonetheless—but something warmer. More open. It was luminous, lighting his entire face and radiating outward like a beam, showing him the safe way to shore. To home.

Hisoka followed its course, forgetting everything else. Seeing only him.

“We made it Illumi. We actually made it.”  

“We did. And you… you saved my brother. My entire family. You’ll have to walk me through every detail.”

“Absolutely. I will—in a moment.” Hisoka took a step closer, as close as decorum would allow. “But first, let’s just enjoy this. We’re alive. You’re here. It feels like ages since we were in the same room.”

Illumi’s hand brushed Hisoka’s sleeve. “I’m proud of you. Just when I think I couldn’t love you more, you prove me wrong.” 

Hisoka let out a breath—half-laugh, half-sigh. “You’re making it very hard not to kiss you right now.” His eyes lingered on Illumi’s lips.

“Well…” 

With a calmness that made Hisoka’s pulse quicken, Illumi reached up and brushed his thumb along Hisoka’s cheekbone. Hisoka stilled, every fiber of him attuned to that single point of contact. 

Does this mean—will he—?

Illumi’s other hand rose, joining the first to cup Hisoka’s face, and then, with no fanfare or hesitation, he leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t the softest kiss they’d ever shared, and it certainly wasn’t the most passionate.

But it was one of the most sacred.

With every brush of Illumi’s lips against his own, Hisoka felt the declaration behind their soft plushness: I want to love you always. Everywhere. Here too—where the other piece of my heart is. This is my choice.

It made his heart flutter.

And hell, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t swelling too—because Illumi Zoldyck, the proper mommy’s boy, the one who always insisted on rules and boundaries, had just broken them all. In front of everyone. For him.

He suddenly felt the urge to hold onto Illumi, so he did, placing his fingers on his waist and pulling him in, just a little closer.

The kiss ended slowly, like the last ember of a flame surrendering to the air. Illumi leaned back but didn’t let go—his hands still cupped Hisoka’s face, and his smile lingered, sprinkled with a dash of smugness. 

“Well, well,” Zeno said.

They turned to find him watching, hands clasped behind his back, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

“Took you long enough. I was starting to wonder if I’d live to see the day.”

Hisoka chuckled. “A kiss and a standing ovation? I really should almost-die more often.”

“Please don’t,” Illumi said. “It’s always too messy. And highly inconvenient.”

Hisoka chuckled and looked around the room, collecting reactions like a performer gathering coins.

Silva’s expression was unreadable as ever, but there was no tension in it. Kalluto stared wide-eyed, looking equal parts curious and flustered, and Milluki rolled his eyes the moment their gazes met—but he did so with a smile.

Hisoka left Kikyo for last. When he turned to her, he tensed, unsure what to expect—whether she would meet him with a sharp gasp or a deep frown—but she looked exactly the same, certainly not disturbed or shocked. Not even surprised.

“Now that we’ve all indulged in our share of rejoicing and sentimentality, shall we return to the task at hand? Let’s sew the shadows back in place.”

“For one, I’d be more than glad to have my shadow back,” Hisoka said. “So yes to that.”

“I’ve got the threads here,” Illumi said, pulling a cocoon from his pocket and holding it up. “So let’s begin.”

With needles in hand and thread unspooled, they got to work. They moved in pairs—the hosts stood still within the circles along with their shadows, while the other person stitched the darkness back into place.

The silver thread glistened in the air as it moved up and down, and once the final stitch was pulled tight, the seams vanished. The black contours merged into the bodies and sank to the floor, becoming, once again, what they had always been: just shadows.

When Hisoka rejoined with his own doppelgänger, he felt equal parts pleased and on edge. He kept glancing over his shoulder at random intervals, to see if it would twitch, grin, or slip off on its own. But it didn’t. 

Kalluto’s was the last to be taken care of. Milluki drew a circle with runes around him, and Kikyo sewed the half-cut shadow back to his body.

The ritual was complete—but the work was far from over: across both the estate and the manor, mayhem was visible everywhere you looked. It was impressive, really, how much destruction the shadows had managed to wreak in just a few hours.

The Zoldycks didn’t waste time. They began tending to the damage immediately, and Hisoka joined them, lending a hand wherever it seemed needed: helping re-hang portraits, repair cut wires, and organize loose debris into piles. Soon, the butlers arrived as well—moving in and out, fetching supplies, cleaning, and making repairs. A chaotic buzz.

Somewhere between broken vases and scorched stone walls, Illumi approached him. 

“Can you help with the library?” he asked. “The butlers can manage, but it would go faster with your Bungee Gum.”

“Sure,” Hisoka said, finishing his work on a half-fallen chandelier. When he turned to Illumi, he received a short kiss in return. 

It was exhilarating, this new routine. To Hisoka, it felt like Illumi was waving a flag above them in bold, capital letters: I choose you. I value you. Let that be known. 

He could have fed off that feeling for days.

And oh, the added spice: a few startled glances from nearby butlers—the clean surprise on their faces, the tension in their shoulders, the way they quickly turned their heads, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing. Delicious.

Hisoka headed to the library with a grin that made his jaw ache and his heart swell.

Opening the decorative door, he returned to the familiar piles of books scattered beneath the wooden structures like fallen autumn leaves. He looked around and cracked his knuckles. Time to restore order.

He started with the first of the two-story bookshelves and shot out multiple strands of Bungee Gum, their bubblegum-pink tips curling around spines, lifting books and guiding them back onto the shelves. Hisoka chuckled to himself at the thought—he probably looked like a pink octopus right now, operating with his many tentacles. Or maybe like one of those old gods, the kind with a dozen arms.

It was quiet work, just the hush of pages returning to rest. No one around. 

Hisoka didn’t mind the silence, or the activity itself—there was a meditative quality to it, in the way his mind turned down the volume and the pace. Emptied out. A welcome change after the past few days.

By the time he slotted the final book into place beside its neighbors, the sky outside had already darkened, and his body was warm from the steady effort.

He checked the surrounding auras, but Illumi’s wasn’t anywhere nearby. He pulled out his phone and sent him a message.

Hisoka: Done. What next?

Illumi: Now go take a shower and put on the cream suit. It’s time to celebrate.

Hell yes. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t eaten anything decent since breakfast—just a few rushed snacks here and there. At the thought of a warm, tasty dish, his stomach gave an eager rumble.

On the way back to his room, Hisoka passed Milluki’s door and stopped by it, tilting his head and considering. He glanced around. No one nearby. Well, since Milluki wasn’t inside… a quick detour wouldn’t hurt.

The room looked exactly the same as the last time he’d entered it: trashed, stuffy, and lit by monitors running lines of code.

But when he looked at the floor, where Kika had been before, she wasn’t there. Instead she was placed near the computer station, as one of the only collectibles Milluki seemed to have relocated so far. He must really care for her, which was curious, considering that compared to the other dolls nearby—like the one with pink long hair and a skimpy outfit—Kika looked uncharacteristically offbeat for this kind of merchandise. Sure, she still had the usual impossible proportions, but her charcoal-gray tee and shorts were casual, and the brown hair, pulled into a half-up bun, could’ve belonged to any real-life girl Milluki’s age.

Hisoka stepped closer, placed his hand over the areas where the slashes had torn her plastic body, and patch by patch, applied Texture Surprise, until the illusion of perfection was restored.

“There we go.”

He made a mental note for his future self: Try to help Milluki find someone who isn’t a doll or an NPC.

He was ready to leave when he noticed something curious—an envelope resting on the edge of Milluki’s desk, dark indigo and embossed with a silver floral pattern. It was too tidy, too elegant for the chaos around it—or for Milluki’s aesthetic in general. The graceful handwriting on the front read: Oniisama.

With bright curiosity and no hesitation, Hisoka picked it up and opened it.

Inside was a folded note, with a printed slip of paper tucked behind it.

The note read:

Oniisama,
Please forgive the disturbance I caused. I hope this gesture might serve as the first step in mending what I have broken.
—Kalluto

Cute.

Hisoka turned his attention to the other piece of paper—a receipt for a preorder of three limited-edition collector dolls from the Renbuki Blossom series—then folded both papers neatly and placed them back inside the envelope. He left it on the desk and stepped into the hall.

After leaving Milluki’s room, Hisoka returned to his quarters and found an identical letter on his bed. He opened it and read Kalluto’s message:

Hisoka-san,
Please accept my apologies for my reckless behavior. I acted impulsively, in a manner unworthy of the Zoldyck name, and I take full responsibility for the consequences.

I hope that, in time, you may find it within yourself to forgive my transgressions. Even if not, please know that I remain your ally, without condition.

As a first step toward making amends, I will work to repair the distorted view the Troupe has of you. I’ll make sure to let them know how honorable and trustworthy you are.
—Kalluto

Hisoka chuckled. How delightfully entertaining to imagine the little one parading through the Spiders, advocating for his innocence. A pity he couldn't be there to enjoy it firsthand. Truth be told, he held no real grudge against Kalluto—but this definitely scored him a few extra points.

After putting the letter away as a curious souvenir of his stay, he followed Illumi’s instructions along with his own desire, and headed straight for the shower. He shed his clothing quickly and stepped under the stream of water even faster. Tilting his head back, he hummed and let the cold water drum against his skin.

Afterward, he toweled off and found himself in the mood for a quick self-care routine. He massaged sweet fig-scented lotion over his legs, arms, and chest in slow circular motions until it absorbed, then applied face cream with just a trace of illuminating pigment that left his skin dewy and luminous, and, as the last step, ran a hand through his damp hair to work in some conditioner, then dried and styled it up into his usual look. As the final touch, he sprayed on a few touches of perfume—fig and lotus flower, from the same scent line as the body lotion.

Feeling fresh, fragrant, and ready to celebrate, he stepped out of the bathroom.

He approached his luggage and took out the carefully folded cream suit.

It had been a gift from Illumi, made even more meaningful by the fact that it hadn’t been tied to any special outing or occasion. He’d simply commissioned it because, as he said, he thought Hisoka would like it. And Hisoka had. Loved it, actually. 

The jacket featured sharp, structured shoulders and an ample sash that wrapped around his waist, both elements showing off his proportions: wide up top, narrow in the middle. Broad lapels cut diagonally across his chest and offered a rather tempting glimpse of skin—though for tonight, he chose to cover it with a simple, fitted shirt, one shade darker than the suit. Along one lapel, a line of sculpted bubblegum-pink silk oleanders was stitched, forever in bloom. They remind me of you, Illumi had said.

Completing the look were high-waisted, tailored trousers with crisp pleats down the front. 

The suit was theatrical. Royal. A study in contrasts—softness and strength, sharp lines and delicate touches. Hisoka put it on piece by piece. 

When he was done, he was still taming a few rebellious strands of hair when he heard a knock. He hadn’t noticed the approach—absorbed as he was in his own reflection—but once he turned his attention outward, he could feel Kikyo’s aura behind the door. 

Curious, how things had changed. Just days ago, her presence would have been impossible to ignore, sharp and pressing as it was.

“Come in,” he called, turning toward the entrance. The door opened, and she stepped inside.

Red was the first thing he saw. She wore a rich, deep crimson that fell over her figure in a long, sculpted dress—so different from her usual pompadour creations. The dress itself was sleeveless, but layered over it was a bolero that covered her shoulders, with sleeves that trailed down her arms and pooled at the floor like twin curtains, split open to allow freedom of movement. She looked cinematic, complete with that satin crimson lipstick worn by old-school Woodholly divas.

Her hair was styled into an elaborate updo, folded and twisted like a black ribbon atop her head. In her arms, she carried a large leather-bound tome.

“Cat got your tongue?” she said with a small smile as Hisoka kept staring.

“You look… flawless. Very femme fatale. I approve.”

“Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself,” she said, the smile broadening. She glanced around and chose to sit at the edge of the bed.

“I was told,” she said, smoothing one hand over the cover, “that you wanted to see some pictures of Illumi’s childhood. I happened to find an album I hadn’t looked through in quite some time. Would you like to see it with me?”

“I’d love that,” Hisoka said, sitting beside her.

She opened the book, and Hisoka leaned in to look.

Hisoka gasped with delight. "Ohhh, look at that face.” 

The page showed a collection of little baby Illus in a variety of settings, each sitting stiffly and staring directly into the camera. Hisoka could practically get diabetes from the sweetness—those tiny hands and legs, that little chest, and his eyes, already large and dark like they were now, framed by the puffiness typical of newborns.

“Aww, this is too cute,” Hisoka said, pointing at a photo of baby Illumi sitting in a basin. A younger Zeno crouched beside him, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, grinning straight at the camera. Illumi, by contrast, looked into the lens with the kind of expression better suited for a passport photo than a childhood memory. Zeno had sculpted the bath foam into two horns and a matching beard that ran down Illumi’s tiny chest.

“Zeno was the one who usually bathed him,” Kikyo said. “You know, Illumi would just sit there perfectly quiet, and never cry, not once. Not even when a soap bubble got into his eyes.”

Hisoka kept looking at the rest of the photos on the page, grinning wide. A jest came to his mind: Illumi had a very strict no-nudes policy—tragic, really. What if he took one of these and teased him about it later? Claimed he had a compromising photo of him naked? What a charming idea. And an excellent conversation starter. Anyway. He needed copies. Multiple ones.

Kikyo turned the page, revealing a series of photos featuring a slightly older Illumi, around five years old.

“This one’s special,” she said, tapping one of the images. “Such a big moment.”

In the photo, Illumi stood in the woods, holding a short blade in one hand, the tip ruby red and still dripping. He stood beside a man’s feet lying on the ground, the rest of the body cropped out of frame. Kikyo and Silva crouched on either side of him, looking like proud parents at a school play. Kikyo beamed at the camera, while Silva ruffled Illumi’s hair.

“His first kill. We were so proud!” Kikyo said. “He had to stalk, strike, and eliminate the target in complete silence.”

“Did he?”

“He exceeded expectations,” she replied. “The man never saw him coming.”

Once again, they turned the page, and Hisoka pointed at a photo where Illumi looked to be around eight years old, standing beside Mike—a puppy, though already the size of a grown man. Illumi was mid-throw, hurling a severed hand into the air, and the enormous dog looked absolutely thrilled to chase after it.

“Illumi once told me he gave a hand raising Mike,” Hisoka said with a grin. “I didn’t realize he meant a literal one.”

He could almost feel Kikyo rolling her eyes behind the visor, but she chuckled softly.

“They always had a special bond, Mike and Illumi. He did a great job training him.”

They kept browsing the photos until they reached the final page, and Kikyo closed the album, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on the worn leather cover.

“This is perfect, exactly what I hoped for. I could look at little Illu all night.”

“He was a precious child,” Kikyo said. “He still is.”

“Kikyo,” Hisoka said. For a moment, he considered whether to continue. The path ahead felt dangerous, scattered with broken glass, too easy to bleed on. “He’ll always be your son. That will never change. But he’s not a child anymore. He’s a grown man now, with his own needs, and his own life.”

She stiffened and turned her face away, and for a moment, Hisoka worried he’d gone too far. But contrary to his concern, her aura didn’t explode or harden like a shield. Instead, it contracted into something smaller and tighter, folding in on itself in a way that reminded him of a body curled into the fetal position, both guarded and exposed at once.

“I didn’t trust you at first. You know that,” Kikyo said. “I thought you were a risk to Illumi—and to our family.” She turned toward him again. “But now... I see it. You love each other. That’s undeniable.”

Hisoka remained quiet, sensing she wasn’t finished.

“I’m glad. But—” Her voice wavered, and her lips trembled. A few tears ran from beneath her visor. “It means I’m losing him.”

Hisoka looked at the woman before him—a fierce creature suddenly seeming so fragile and lost, so terribly human. He didn’t know much about being a parent, or even about being a son, for that matter. But fear of loss? That, he could understand.

How strange—and sad—that they both longed for the same person: his time, his presence, his love. Did she dread that Illumi’s devotion might slip through her fingers like water, the way Hisoka once had? No wonder she tried to clench her hand and hold him tightly.

“I’m not promising things will stay the same,” Hisoka said. “But I’m not trying to take your place. Or your son. He’s allowed to love more than one person.” He reached forward and took her hands in his. Her fingers were cool to the touch, and stiff at first. “Maybe you’re not losing someone. Maybe you’re gaining someone new.”

Kikyo didn’t speak, but the way she turned her visor made him feel she was watching him. She pressed her hands lightly against his in return, and nodded, slowly.

She reached into her pocket, dabbed at the tears flowing from beneath her visor with a tissue, and managed a small, tentative smile.

“I’ll make you copies of these,” she said. “For next time when you visit.”

“I’d love that,” Hisoka said and returned the smile. “That might be sooner than you think.”

“Now.” Kikyo reached out and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “Since we’re both ready, let's celebrate. It’s high time.”

“Let’s.” He rose and offered her his arm—playful and gallant. She accepted it with a small nod, resting her hand lightly on his forearm as they stepped forward.

They stepped out into the corridor, but rather than turning toward the main hall, Kikyo led him further into the house.

“Aren’t we eating in the dining room?” he asked.

“Come along,” she said, without breaking stride. “You’ll see.”

“Alright…”

They stepped through the back door, and the night welcomed them with its freshness and the glow of garden lights. From somewhere far off, music rose: something classical, played on string instruments. 

“A garden party?” Hisoka glanced at Kikyo.

She didn’t answer, but there was a smile on her face.

The Zoldyck garden was a vast and intriguing place. Among the long, plain stretches of green, you could find hidden nooks and winding paths that led to curious destinations. Hisoka had yet to explore all of it, but judging by the direction of the music and the path they followed, he could already guess where they were heading: a clearing, surrounded by cypress, with a gazebo at its center. Quite the lovely spot.

The music grew louder with every step, and from between the green, he could see light and movement.

They followed the path into the cypress alcove, and as they stepped inside, the decorations and the people gathered within came into view. Hisoka stopped beside the cypress at the entrance, taking a moment to absorb the scene.

The white gazebo at the center, usually plain, was now dressed in flowers climbing along its structure: pink oleanders and purple foxgloves. Fairy lights were threaded among them, casting a soft glow alongside the larger candle cloches placed around the base. Beside the wooden structure, a trio of butlers played violin, cello, and harp. In front of it, several garden benches—borrowed from other parts of the grounds—had been arranged and decorated with more lights and flowers.

Amid it all stood Silva, Kalluto, Milluki, and even Duffy, all dressed in formal attire. They turned toward Hisoka with smiles.

Kikyo nudged him, and together they approached the small gathering, Hisoka’s heart pounding faster with every step. “Wait—what’s happening here?” he asked, even though he already had quite the idea. Illumi had surprised him so much today, and now this... but no. No, that would be impossible. Wouldn’t it?   

The music transitioned into something lighter as the harp took the lead, and Silva tilted his head, gesturing for him to look behind.

Hisoka turned, the pulse of his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, and looked back down the path between the trees—the same one he had just come from.

From all around the cypress grove, colorful paper butterflies emerged, dozens at first, then hundreds. One of them landed on Hisoka’s finger: a yellow shape, folded with precision, its wings crisp-edged and its body creased. It was looking sharp, but it moved with a softness reminiscent of its real counterpart. For a moment, the space was full of them—fluttering above heads, brushing shoulders. Then they drifted toward the path between the trees, thickening in number until they formed a living wall, obscuring whatever lay beyond.

Hisoka held his breath. The butterflies hovered, suspended in place, as if waiting for a cue.

Then they parted like a curtain being drawn, and where they had hovered just seconds ago, Illumi stood, with Zeno at his side.

“You didn’t think I’d let you have all the dramatic entrances to yourself, did you?” Illumi said with a luminous smile.

Illumi and Zeno walked toward them at an unhurried pace, the butterflies following, swirling around them like flower petals in a breeze. Hisoka watched them approach—watched him approach—and suddenly forgot how to speak, how to think, how to function on even the most basic level.

Love was the only thing left in him—so much of it that he worried he might burst, and it wouldn’t be butterflies that flew out all around them.

Every thought vanished but one: I love him .

Illumi was an apparition of beauty incarnate. Regal. Luminous. Holy.

He wore black silk from head to toe—a high-collared shirt fastened at the throat with a silver pin, and matching high-waisted trousers wrapped with a double-layered sash. Over the ensemble, he wore a long coat that pooled at his feet, its fabric trailing behind him when he moved, soft and fluid, like a dark river.

There were no buttons, no visible seams, only flowing lines, as if the material itself were alive, breathing with each step. The top half of his hair was pulled back and held in place with two silver pins, while the lower strands fell freely down his back like a black curtain.

When Illumi stopped in front of him, Hisoka caught the scent of his perfume—oudy, with a floral undertone, warm and rich, something he hadn’t smelled on him before. It felt like the beginning of something new.

Hisoka reached out, took Illumi’s hands in his, still too overwhelmed to speak in full sentences. “How?”

“Everyone helped,” Illumi said. “And it turns out Duffy is licensed to officiate weddings.”

“How?” Hisoka repeated, this time raising an eyebrow at Duffy.

“Oh, it’s a funny story, Mr. Hisoka. I’ll tell you later at dinner.”

Hisoka let out a breathy laugh. “Alright, alright.” He turned his gaze back to his beloved.

“Are you ready?” Illumi asked. “To marry me?”

“Always. Everywhere. Forever,” Hisoka said. Then, softer, after a beat: “But are you sure this is… enough? I know you wanted it perfect.”

Illumi glanced at the faces gathered around them—his family, watching them with warm smiles, their silhouettes framed by butterflies still dancing in the air.

He looked back at Hisoka and tightened his grip on his hands.

“This is perfect,” he said. “Let’s begin.”

Chapter Text

Hisoka and Illumi stayed at the manor for four more days—long enough for the house to return to its usual order and for them to bring their honeymoon plans to life. Milluki helped with the travel logistics, handling the flight bookings, while Illumi browsed hotels and pored over countless reviews to find the best options in the cities Hisoka had chosen for their itinerary.

Illumi was eager to begin their new life with a stretch of time devoted only to indulgence and to his husband, and he pushed to make it happen as soon as possible. Fortunately, Kalluto volunteered to stay behind and cover Illumi’s responsibilities, delaying his own return to the Spiders, while Kikyo gave her blessing for a two-week absence. With everything in place, they were free to leave the moment the travel arrangements were complete.

Illumi felt antsy, but at least he had one consolation during those days: after the wedding, Hisoka moved into his room, and Illumi found immediate comfort in waking and falling asleep beside his familiar shape. Still, even behind the closed door of their now shared space, there was a sense of restraint to their closeness. They couldn’t truly let go.

Illumi had started to burn. He could feel it gathering just beneath his skin—a growing need to cherish Hisoka, to remind him that he was his, now more completely than ever before, and that Illumi belonged to him too, in every way one person can belong to another. Just the two of them, uninterrupted, without distractions or hurry. Hisoka, flushed beneath him, Hisoka, moaning his name as Illumi undid him with care—then chuckling as he turned Illumi over and returned the attention. So when the black Mercedes finally pulled away, with their luggage in the trunk and Duffy behind the wheel, Illumi felt elated at the prospect of finally being alone with his husband. They held hands in the back seat. Illumi kept glancing at Hisoka, and every time he looked, Hisoka met his gaze with the same warm smile.

They checked their luggage and passed through security, and with his hands finally free and Hisoka at his side, Illumi didn’t restrain himself any longer. He kissed him—not in a way particularly suited to public spaces, not like his usual self at all—but he was too thirsty for Hisoka to care.

“Bet we could make it to the bathroom before the flight boards,” Hisoka said, low and casual.

The bathroom was awful. There was nothing sensual about the cramped stall or the metal door Hisoka pushed him against. Normally, Illumi would’ve found it revolting, and for a moment, he did. But then Hisoka’s mouth found his throat, his palms were on him, his body pressed against him—and Illumi felt like someone surfacing from underwater, gasping for air after holding their breath for too long.

They arrived in Rohme at the end of sunset, with the sky turning a richer shade of apricot behind the domes and steeples. Illumi stared out the taxi window with fascination. He had traveled across the globe for missions and passed through countless cities, but even when he had time to spare, he never felt entitled to absorb a place the way he planned to over the coming days. This was an entirely different experience. For once, he had no target, no objective apart from having fun. The unfamiliarity of it thrilled him, but also left him dizzy with the endless possibilities ahead. He wanted to see and do everything, already grieving that he couldn’t.

Their boutique hotel, a small palazzo, was hidden behind tall, dense trees and a discreet gated entrance. When the car passed through the gate and onto the drive, Illumi caught his first full view of the property: the driveway stretched ahead, straight at first, then curving uphill toward a beautifully lit villa. On either side of the road lay expansive gardens, enriched with statues of Rohman gods, a three-tiered fountain, and terracotta pots holding red and pink geraniums.

As the car rounded the final bend, the hotel came into full view: an elegant villa carved from pale stone, lined with tall windows and columns—the kind of building that had witnessed centuries and countless guests pass through its rooms.

The car pulled up at the foot of the staircase, and they stepped out into the balmy air, scented with freshly cut grass, orange blossom, and a hint of citrus.

Inside, the space was grand and elegant, but without that unpleasant, trying-too-hard opulence or artificial stiffness that Illumi disliked. He felt immediately at ease. After collecting their keys, they passed through the entry hall, moving between giant flower arrangements, velvet chairs in soft violet and dusty rose, and marble tables adorned with classical busts. A curved staircase led them to the first floor and to their suite.

The hotel had been Illumi’s top choice in the city, and this suite was the best it had to offer. They stepped into a softly lit, spacious chamber that extended into additional rooms on either side. At first glance, the suite appeared almost as large as their entire apartment in Yorknew. Dark blue walls and olive silk curtains framed the giant windows, which opened onto a wide stone balcony with a jacuzzi in one corner and a sofa with two lounge chairs in the other. That’s where Illumi went first. He stepped outside to the sound of church bells and cicadas, and rested his hands on the railing, taking in the view.

The city looked like a collage of houses, ancient ruins, and bell-towered churches, bathed in amber floodlight and framed by a cobalt sky. On the horizon, the distant silhouettes of hills rose beyond the city.

Hisoka stepped out and joined him, holding two glasses of sparkling wine.

“Some complimentary prosecco, my dearest husband?” he asked, offering one. 

“Yes, husband,” Illumi replied, smiling.

Hisoka raised his glass. “To us. To all the days we get to spend together, and to the beginning of a new era.”

Illumi took a sip. The wine was excellent, but he barely registered the taste. He was too focused on the drop of prosecco that had slid from Hisoka’s lips and trickled down his chin. Hisoka caught it with his finger and was about to bring it to his mouth when Illumi reached for his wrist and stopped him. He drew it to his own lips instead, running his tongue along the pad to lick away the prosecco, then swallowed the digit, sucking, licking, his eyes locked on Hisoka, unblinking. Hisoka let out a low moan. A second later, Illumi pushed him back onto the sofa. Hisoka barely managed to save their glasses before Illumi climbed on top of him like a panther, hungry and wild.

The rest of the night—and the entire next day—played out nothing like Illumi had originally planned. Contrary to his intention of sightseeing and getting to know the city, he found himself unable to leave either the suite or Hisoka’s body. It felt like stepping into a sweet shop after a lifetime of restraint, and all he wanted was to taste—taste—taste Hisoka in every way: fast and wild, slow to the point of edging, tender, rough, top, bottom, sucking, fucking, fingering, touching, with a variety of angles, settings, and positions.

He’d never held back much when it came to Hisoka, but the lust he felt now was something else entirely, it went beyond reason, even compared to their most indulgent moments. Still, he didn’t waste time thinking about it—not when Hisoka was just as eager, just as insatiable. They kept at it continuously, even when their bodies could barely keep up, trembling from overstimulation—even when they’d orgasmed so many times that barely any cum would come out. They only paused occasionally, to devour room service dishes while sitting naked on the carpet, talking and laughing. At one point, they tried the jacuzzi. It lasted ten minutes before Illumi ended up on his knees, mouth around Hisoka’s cock, water lapping against his back.

By the time night returned, Illumi’s throat was hoarse, his limbs languid, and his skin tingling from all the pleasure he had subjected it to. He felt calm and sated when, after one last shower, he slipped under the sheets where Hisoka was already waiting, and they transitioned to slow kisses and soft touches. With heavy eyelids and Hisoka’s head resting on his chest, Illumi thought they were only at the beginning, with days and days still ahead. Cities to see. Rooms and beds they hadn’t touched yet. Flavors left to discover.

He was delighted by the thought of having a two-week vacation instead of one, and for a moment he thought three weeks might be quite appropriate, too.

~~~

Illumi emerged from sleep, slowly, his eyes opening halfway before closing again as the sunrise struck his pupils. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was—only that the bed felt strange, not like his own. Then sleep receded and recognition settled in. He opened his eyes again and saw that the sky beyond the window was soft and cloudless. Morning in Rohme.

Hisoka wasn’t in bed, but Illumi could hear his voice from somewhere deeper in the suite, singing softly in Italyan. The language was rusty to Illumi’s ears, but he thought he caught something about a girl with lips like roses.

Illumi sat up, and for the first time, he felt the consequences of his earlier indulgences: his limbs were heavy, his body stiff and sore—hips, thighs, shoulders, jaw—all worn down in the most decadent of ways. When the sheets brushed against his skin, he noticed how sensitive it still was, and had to admit: perhaps they’d gone overboard. 

Still, he adjusted quickly to the sensation, and in its place came a strange, pleasant feeling—one in which his body simply was. It didn’t crave anything, perfectly content with all it had received, down to the last touch.

“Hisoka,” Illumi called out.

A moment passed, and the song softened into a wordless hum that grew louder with each step. Hisoka appeared in the doorway, barefoot, hair tousled. He rested one hand on the frame, the other balancing a ceramic plate topped with figs.

“Buon giorno, amore mio.”

Illumi’s eyes traveled over him. He wore nothing but violet briefs, clinging low on his hips. The morning light caught on the constellation of marks Illumi had charted across his skin—bruises in twilight shades, crescent-shaped bites, and red trails impressed by his nails. 

Illumi tilted his head. “You look good like that.”

Hisoka glanced down. “These are just my briefs.”

“You know what I mean. You look like you belong to me.”

A grin spread across Hisoka’s lips. “Can’t argue with that. And now you even have a legal document backing it up.” He stepped closer and sat beside him on the bed, brushing Illumi’s wrist with the back of his finger. “But I do love the reminders. Hope you will keep giving me those.”

“I intend to,” Illumi said in all seriousness. He glanced at the plate in Hisoka’s hands. “Figs?”

“Hmm. I saw a fig tree on the property,” Hisoka said, plucking one. “They were ripe and irresistible, just like you. You have to try them.”

He tore the fig into four uneven pieces, revealing its glistening purple interior. Picking up one quarter, he folded it inside out and brought it to Illumi’s lips. “Bite,” he said. 

Illumi did. He sank his teeth into the flesh, tearing through it in a single bite, and felt an explosion of sweetness as the sun-ripened juice hit his tongue, followed by the rich, succulent texture as he chewed.

Hisoka reached out and wiped a bead of juice from the corner of Illumi’s mouth with his thumb, and then, pressed it to his own lower lip, smearing it like lipstick.

“More,” Illumi said. But instead of reaching for another fig, he leaned in and licked the juice from Hisoka’s lips. Once he had collected it all, he searched for another kind of sweetness.

Hisoka parted his lips, and Illumi’s tongue met his, soft and languid, like melted sugar. There was no rush, no heated urgency, while they kept teasing and tasting each other, slow and deep. The kiss stretched on, and their hands began to fondle each other’s bodies, just as leisurely.

“More?” Hisoka asked, placing a hand on Illumi’s waist.

Illumi leaned back against the headboard. “It’s a nuisance, but I think I’ll have to pass for now. I’m sore.” He looked at Hisoka, who had taken a fig for himself, and then at the hardness visible beneath his briefs. “But you’re still in the mood,” Illumi said—part wonder, part question.

“I might be. But that’s no matter, it’ll pass in a moment.”

“That won’t do.” Illumi took the plate from Hisoka’s hands and set it on the nightstand. Then he pushed Hisoka back onto the bed and grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head. “A proper husband should take care of his partner’s needs—even if his own are already satisfied. Shouldn’t he?”

“That’s new.”

“Let’s call it an upgrade.” Illumi pinched Hisoka’s nipple, drawing a moan from him. “And we’re on vacation. I’m afraid you’re getting all of my attention.”

“I never want this trip to end.”

Illumi leaned in and kissed him.

“Any preferences?” Illumi asked.

“You know best.” Hisoka stretched his arms and tucked his hands behind his head, smiling. “I leave my orgasm in your capable hands.”

“Hmm.” Illumi bent forward, pressing his lips to Hisoka’s bicep, well exposed and taut from the stretch. The skin was warm under his mouth, the muscles delightfully toned. Meanwhile, his hand explored the other arm, fingers tracing the slope from deltoid to forearm, gripping, stroking, thumb brushing over a thin vein. “What a good, trusting husband you are,” he said, pressing a line of kisses down Hisoka’s sternum. “Yes, I know best. I know what you like.” Without warning, he pushed his thumb into the space between two ribs, pressing into a fresh bruise. Hisoka moaned, hips twitching upward, and Illumi watched the wet spot on his briefs darken and spread. “What you need,” he added, placing a soft kiss over the same spot he’d just harassed.

“Illumi.”

Illumi stared at him for a moment, then leaned in to tease Hisoka’s nipples, licking and sucking until he felt Hisoka’s breathing quicken. He stayed close to Hisoka’s skin, his lips traveling downward, kissing and nibbling, while his fingers pinched, kneaded, and caressed. He didn’t rush—and Hisoka, for once, didn’t push for more. Illumi breathed in his scent: familiar, smoky, herbal.

When he reached Hisoka’s stomach, he shifted position, kneeling between his legs and lowering his head again. He pressed his lips to a dark bruise on Hisoka’s thigh, while his hands traced the curve of his waist, fingers pressing into the familiar shape.

His husband. How perfect he was for him, in every way. 

Illumi mouthed at the hard shape beneath the damp fabric of Hisoka’s briefs, and Hisoka let out a low, throaty sound.

Illumi hummed back in approval. Then he dragged his tongue along the cotton, following the contour of Hisoka’s cock, continuing until the briefs were marked with a collection of dark patches.

He sank his teeth into the waistband, gave a firm pull, and pulled it down using only his mouth. Hisoka’s cock sprang free and rested on his belly, flushed and glistening with Illumi’s spit.

“You know, I brought something with me. Something to spice things up.”

“Hmm?” Hisoka pushed a pillow beneath his head to see him better. “And what would that be? When did you ever manage to smuggle something past me?” He chuckled. “Or maybe you’ve got a secret stash of treasures hidden away in your room back at the estate. Naughty, naughty.”

Illumi approached his suitcase and lifted the upper case. He slid his hand beneath the layers of neatly folded clothes and fished out a silk pouch. Opening it, he studied the contents for a moment, considering the options.

They weren’t big on toys—their own bodies and inventiveness were usually more than enough—but while passing through the airport on the way to check their luggage, Illumi’s attention was caught by a lingerie shop with several toys on display. He felt tempted to buy something for the trip. A little surprise.

To get Hisoka out of sight, he’d come up with a small task: he told him to buy some chewing gum—to keep his ears from clogging during takeoff—and pointed him toward the shop with the longest line, one that would guarantee him more than enough time. Then he returned to the boutique, quickly selected the most expensive models available, and packed them into his suitcase.

Inside the pouch were an anal plug and a dildo, but after the previous day’s adventures, Illumi decided something non-penetrative might be more appropriate. He reached for the third option: a compact vibrator, with an oval, bulb-like head and an easy-to-grip base.

Illumi pressed the button at the base, and watched the device come alive in his hand.

“Show me, show me,” Hisoka said behind him.

Illumi turned and held up the toy.

“Oh?” Hisoka’s voice carried a note of disappointment. “That’s so... small.”

“Hm. I hoped for a more enthusiastic response. Didn’t you say you trust me? That I know best?” Illumi said—and in a flash, he was at Hisoka’s side. “Because I do.” He nibbled Hisoka’s earlobe. “You want it big and intense. But you know what? I bet I don’t even have to fuck you or touch your cock to make you come.”

“...Illu,” Hisoka moaned. “Challenge accepted.”

“Good,” Illumi said, circling Hisoka’s nipple with the vibrator. “How is it?” He pinched one nipple while letting the vibrator rest and hum over the other.

“Mmm. Yes. Keep going.”

Illumi moved the massager downward, unhurried and feather-light. He paused just below Hisoka’s belly button, held it there for a moment, then traveled lower still, careful not to touch his cock. Hisoka jolted slightly, his breath hitching.

“And now?”

“Mmm, yes,” Hisoka said, eyes closed. “I like this.”

Illumi continued to build Hisoka up. He focused the vibrator on his nipples, lower abdomen, and inner thighs—always close, but never where Hisoka needed him most. At the same time, he kept his mouth busy: nibbling Hisoka’s earlobe, dragging his tongue in slow stripes along the curve of his neck, pressing soft kisses to the inside of his wrist. He varied the vibrator’s intensity, briefly switching to a higher setting, only to dial it back down, careful to avoid the stronger, pulsating modes.

In between, he returned to kiss him—calm and unhurried—but Hisoka kept pulling him deeper, turning each one messier, greedied, and more desperate with each passing minute. Illumi welcomed it, savoring the heat and gratitude on his tongue.

The vibrations made Hisoka squirm, laugh, then groan. Illumi’s free hand stroked his thigh, his side, his ribs. More and more often, Hisoka’s hips bucked upward, searching for friction Illumi refused to give. The tip of his cock was flushed and leaking precum in a slow, steady rhythm. Illumi’s mouth watered at the sight. The urge to lick it up, to taste, was strong, but he held himself back.

Most of their sexual encounters were mutual in nature—focused on chasing both their orgasms and losing themselves in one another. Even when one of them was solely devoted to pleasuring the other, there was always a haze of lust behind it, a hunger in every touch. But in this moment, fully sated, Illumi watched his husband with unclouded eyes. And what a glorious sight he was—breath hitching, body squirming—like a work of art Illumi could study every day. But he didn’t just want to observe; he wanted to touch, to be the orchestrator of Hisoka’s pleasure. He should do this more often. Take his time. Stay clear-headed. Watch him like this.

“Look at you,” Illumi said quietly, brushing his lips near Hisoka’s ear. “So obedient. So pretty.”

“Ah… Illu…” 

“Time to make you come,” Illumi whispered in his ear.

Illumi kissed him and withdrew the toy, but kept his touch on Hisoka’s body: sliding lower, guiding his husband's hips slightly upward, and spreading his thighs farther apart.

“I read,” Illumi said, voice contemplative, “that this area—” he pressed the vibrator lightly against the soft strip of skin between Hisoka’s balls and his hole “—contains dense nerve endings. It’s sensitive to vibration. And pressure.”

Hisoka’s eyes opened wider.

“Fuck, yes. Feels good.”

“And guess what?” Illumi said, still in that same calm tone. “You can stimulate the prostate without penetration this way. Now. Let’s find the right spot.”

Illumi set the vibrator to one of its lower settings and pressed it tight against Hisoka’s skin, exploring new spots and testing different angles while observing his every micro-reaction.

It didn’t take long. Hisoka let out a long, low moan, while his hips twitched—and Illumi could say, with relative confidence, that he had found the spot. Hisoka lifted one knee higher, angled his hips, and pushed down, chasing more contact.

“More,” he said, voice rough with want.

“Hmm.” Illumi pressed the button on the device a few times, and the steady hum transformed into a series of rhythmic, thrusting pulses. At the change, Hisoka’s entire body jolted—back arching, thighs tightening—and he let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry.

“Please—” Hisoka said. Illumi paused, expecting a request to suck him off or maybe finger him. But after a breathless moment, Hisoka looked up at him with glassy eyes and said, “Touch me. Touch me more.”

Illumi did. He pressed the device back to the previous spot, just above Hisoka’s entrance, and fondled his body with long, slow strokes of his palm, focusing especially on the inner thighs that quivered uncontrollably, as if saying: you’re doing well. You’re being good.

“I’m…I–I…”

Hisoka tilted his head back, mouth open, hair clinging to his temple.

“Come, Hisoka,” Illumi said. He pressed the toy deeper into the sensitive spot and moved it in sync with the pulses. Only when Hisoka’s cock and balls tightened, and he spilled onto his stomach, did Illumi lower his head and take him into his mouth, catching the rest of his cum.

He kept both his lips and the toy in place as Hisoka came, and even after the last of it poured out, fresh waves of pleasure seemed to overtake him: Hisoka moaned, his hips stuttering against the mattress, his hands fisting the sheets. 

Illumi fondled him, fingers running over flushed, quivering skin in slow, steady strokes. When the trembling faded, Illumi clicked the vibrator off, sucked him slowly a few more times, then pulled him out of his mouth and moved up to lick the streaks of cum from Hisoka’s chest, following each path with the tip of his tongue.

“How was it?” Illumi asked, licking a bead of cum from the corner of his lips. “Supposedly, working with that point results in a full-body orgasm.”

Hisoka hummed in response. He caught Illumi’s wrist and pulled him down onto the sheets.

Illumi scooted closer until only a breath of space remained between them and wrapped one hand around Hisoka’s waist, while his other slid into Hisoka’s hair, combing through it slowly.

“I love you, Illumi.”

A shiver ran down Illumi’s spine. They both knew they felt this way and showed it in their own ways, but the words themselves weren’t spoken often. There was a kind of power in hearing them aloud: Illumi hoped that neither the feeling nor the truth behind those words would ever fade. And something in him believed they wouldn’t.

“I love you too,” Illumi said, tilting Hisoka’s chin to see his face more clearly. “But you didn’t answer my question. How was it?”

“Different. Amazing. Powerful.” Hisoka brushed a loose strand of hair off Illumi’s forehead. “Hard to describe. How about I show you firsthand—once you're back in the mood?”

“I’d like that.” Illumi leaned in for a short kiss. “Now. How about we actually try to leave this room? Let’s get breakfast. I want to see the city.”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Hisoka stretched out slowly with a smile. “I might’ve prepared a little something for today.”

~~~

After a quick shower and a change into breathable, light-colored linen, they shared a slow breakfast on the hotel terrace, with a view of Rohme stretching out below. Seated at a table shaded by a large white parasol, they conversed on light topics and nibbled on mini pastries, slices of melon and peach, and creamy ricotta drizzled with honey.

Illumi was caught between enjoying the relaxing atmosphere and dwelling on what they were about to miss—namely, the grand Rohman monuments he’d studied so thoroughly and was eager to see. He already had a full itinerary in mind: the Pantheneon at noon, a stroll through the Rohman Forum at two, and a guided tour of the Colohsseum at three. Then a lunch break, and off to the next attractions. But Hisoka had smiled across the table, licking marmalade from his thumb, and said, “Forget all about those old stones—we’ll do that tomorrow. I’ve got something better planned for today.”

Illumi raised a brow but said nothing. From experience, he knew that seven times out of ten, Hisoka’s surprises were genuinely delightful. He just hoped this wasn’t one of the other three.

After breakfast they headed to the hotel’s entrance, where a glossy red Vepsa awaited them, along with a pair of tan leather helmets secured to its seat. Illumi eyed it skeptically.

“Come on, Illumi, you have to be at least a little excited! It’s just like in the movie.”

“The movie?”

“The movie! You know, the one with Adurey Burnhep in Rohme. We watched it together.”

“Ah, yes,” Illumi said. “You gave me a blowjob during that one. I got a little distracted.”

“What a shame,” Hisoka shook his head, reaching for the helmets and handing one to Illumi. “Adurey is such an icon. We have to rewatch it ASAP. And no blowjobs this time.” He got on the Vepsa and patted the seat behind him. “Get on, lover.” 

Illumi climbed onto the motorcycle and wrapped his arms around Hisoka’s waist. His husband kicked off, guided them through the gated entrance, and into the city traffic. Once they left the outskirts behind, the road changed along with the scenery—it narrowed, gained more curves, and had far less traffic.

Illumi looked around at the landscape. They passed rows of sunlit vineyards, stone farmhouses, and golden fields broken only by a few solitary olive trees growing among them. The sky was baby blue, the air warm. Though he occasionally thought about the monuments they’d left behind, for the most part, Illumi was content to be there, in the present moment.

After almost an hour of driving, an old stone bridge appeared ahead, surrounded by a picturesque collage of old buildings and colorful nature. Hisoka pulled off the road just before the bridge, brought the Vepsa to a stop, and stepped off. He extended a hand toward Illumi.

“Come, let’s take a look.”

They walked to the center of the bridge and leaned against the railing, gazing down. Below, a wide river flow, steady and calm, and a few hundred meters downstream lay a small town made of ochre-colored houses built directly into the water. A walking path wound through the village, with a myriad of small stone bridges connecting it to the homes anchored in the river. On the facades, wrought-iron balconies overflowed with violet geraniums, swaying in the wind. 

“It’s lovely here.”

“I thought you might like it,” Hisoka said, picking up a pebble.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Years ago. I must’ve been eighteen, maybe nineteen.” Hisoka rolled the stone between his fingers and tossed it into the river with a plop. “I’d gotten restless in Yorknew and decided to visit Eropue in search of new thrills. With mixed results. I was on my way to Fleornce when something caught my attention and made me stop.”

“Nen.”

“Mhm.” He leaned back against the railing, stretching like a cat in the sun. “I followed the trail to a small vineyard in the hills. But the aura... it wasn’t coming from a person—well, not only. One section of the vines was infused with Nen, and the grapes were pulsing with it.” Hisoka chuckled. “I barely made it to the edge of the property when some guy started yelling at me in dialect. I had no clue what he was saying, so I just smiled and nodded—and at that, he tossed me a pair of gloves and pointed me toward the other grape pickers. I figured, why not? I could always chase the Nen user later, and those grapes were interesting.”

“You? Picking grapes?” Illumi raised a brow. “Seems too monotonous to hold your attention. If only that.”

Hisoka laughed, “Fair. But there was a kind of rustic charm to it. At night, they set out long wooden tables under strings of lanterns, and we feasted on cheese, olives, roast figs, and wine straight from the barrels.” Hisoka leaned in. “That’s when I met him, the Nen user. Turned out he was the vineyard’s owner, and of course, he immediately sensed I was a Nen user too. Long story short, he took a liking to me, we got batshit drunk and I ended up staying with his family for a while.”

“So, let me guess,” Illumi said. “That’s where we’re headed now.”

“Bingo.” Hisoka grinned.

“Let’s go, then. Just no grape harvesting today, I hope.”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

They climbed back onto the Vepsa and followed a narrow path that branched off from the main road. Illumi felt the terrain shift as vibrations traveled through the seat beneath him, and dust rose in their wake. After a short ride they reached their destination and the vineyard came into view.

Everywhere around them, vines undulated over small hills in neat rows. Among them, Illumi immediately recognized the parcel Hisoka had told him about: a modest strip of plants glowing with a yellowish Nen sheen. But that was only a small segment of the land. The rest of the vineyard stretched far and wide, and farther in, at the heart of the property, stood an elegant stone house with ivy climbing up one side, an open-air courtyard with a plane tree, and a long wooden dining table beneath its branches.

They parked the Vepsa and, with the midday sun warming their backs, walked down a gravel path that cut through the vines. As they approached the courtyard, two boys were there, kicking a football back and forth. When one of them spotted them, he called out—“O Luca, guarda chi c’è! Presto, chiama papà!”—at which point the other boy sprinted toward the house, disappearing inside for a moment before returning with a group of adults in tow.

Within seconds, a small crowd had gathered around them—loud, affectionate, speaking over one another in Italyan, and greeting them as if they were long-lost relatives: with wide smiles, handshakes, or kisses on the cheek. A tall man with a mustache flung his arms around Hisoka, clapping him on the back, then shook Illumi’s hand and introduced himself as Paulo, the vineyard owner. The atmosphere was equal parts joyful and overwhelming.

A small, elderly woman with an apron and long silver hair emerged from the house, drying her hands on a dishcloth. Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hands to the heavens.

“Mio Dio, guardatelo! Bello come il sole!” she said, reaching up to pinch Hisoka’s face. “Che bello rivederti. Se solo fossi più giovane—”

Illumi chuckled. “Is she planning to steal you from me?”

“What can I do? I’m a natural heartbreaker.” Hisoka smiled at him. “She’s Paulo’s mother.”

“E questo chi è?” the woman asked, noticing Illumi.

“Questo è Illumi Morow-Zoldyck,” Hisoka said, sliding an arm around Illumi’s waist. “Mio marito.”

The old woman clasped her hands and said, “Che belli siete insieme!” She smiled at him. “Much handsome, like movies,” she added in broken English.

“Piacere, Signora,” Illumi said, and shook her hand.

After everyone had greeted them and the atmosphere had settled a little, Paulo invited them on a tour of the property, leading them through the vines, and explaining the different grape varieties as they walked. His voice was animated as he spoke about soil composition, sun exposure, and the plants' growth cycle. He stopped in front of the Nen-enhanced vines and, as proud as if they were one of his own children, explained how he infused them with his aura on a regular basis. Over the course of decades, he had perfected his technique. The Nen, he claimed, not only gave the wine a superior flavor profile but also ensured that no matter how much you drank, you’d never get a hangover—something Hisoka was quick to confirm. This particular batch, Paulo added, was reserved for family and close friends only.

After the tour, they gathered in the courtyard and raised three glasses of Nen wine in a toast.

It was, without question, one of the finest red wines Illumi had ever tasted—graceful, complex, not overly heavy, with a delicate aroma of violets and dark berries, and a long, elegant finish.

Illumi and Hisoka were shown to seats at the long wooden table, and for the first time in a while, they were left alone. The family moved in the background, busying themselves with preparing the meal and setting the table, but none of it demanded their attention.

Illumi sat back in his chair. He felt at ease, with Hisoka by his side, a glass of exquisite wine in hand, and the vineyard stretching out ahead of them.

“I don’t remember ever seeing you this relaxed,” Hisoka said, and took a sip of wine. “You look good like this. Even more handsome, if I may say so.”

“Mm. This is pleasant.” Illumi smiled.

“I was thinking—wouldn’t it be nice to have more time for this? For traveling together?”

“I agree, that would be nice.” Illumi said, swirling his glass, “But you know how it is.” He took a sip. “Look, I’ll try to take more days off, but I’m not making any promises. Maybe in the future, once Kalluto is back and active in the field...”

“Maybe I could offer you a solution.” Hisoka said slowly. “We’d have to talk through the details, of course, but... since I’m already half a Zoldyck, and I know how your work functions—and frankly, I enjoy it quite much at times—” he cleared his throat, “—maybe I could take part-time work as an assassin. Help you finish some of your contracts. But only if I get more time with you as compensation.”

Illumi almost dropped his glass. An unstoppable, jaw-aching smile overtook him.

“That would be... ideal. I have to admit, I’ve considered it before, but I never thought it was something that could catch your interest.”

“Well,” Hisoka said, “you did have something to do with making assassinations dear to my heart.”

“We’ll talk through the details, and when we’ve decided on something, we’ll go speak to Father—together. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.” Illumi reached for Hisoka’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “But for now, let’s leave work aside. I want to enjoy the day. And you.” He leaned in. “I think by the time we get back, I might be in the mood to explore that indescribable sensation you were willing to reciprocate.”

Hisoka chuckled. “Sure. I’d be more than happy to help you with that.”

Illumi leaned in for a kiss. 

Applause and laughter rose around them, and as he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Paulo approaching, grinning, with a plate of steaming ravioli in hand.

“Lovebirds!” Paulo said. “Hope you're hungry—it’s time to taste the best Italya has to offer and begin a feast you’ll never forget.”

Chapter Text

It had been a week and a half since the honeymoon, and their return to Yorknew. All in all, a tedious time, flooded with post-trip catch-up alongside the painfully mundane matters that demanded their attention, like a mountain of laundry and a fridge that smelled like something had died and then decomposed. Well, nobody had predicted that the next time they’d be here, so much time would have passed. And that they’d return married, at that.

But it was also an exhilarating time, suspended somewhere between their usual routine and the beginning of something new.

At first glance, everything seemed just as it always had been—in the best sense of the words—but between the rhythm of their days, subtle shifts had begun to take hold. Little things. Like the small touches when they passed each other in a room: a hand pressing to the other’s lower back while reaching for something overhead, a thumb brushing over the nape of the neck when moving behind them, fingers trailing down the length of the other’s arm in passing. They felt natural, like they had always been there. But they hadn’t. 

And then there was the word husband. Oh, how Hisoka cherished the novelty of it, how sweet it was on his tongue. They said it far more often than necessary, both of them: sometimes infused with lust, sometimes with affection, sometimes as a warning. Used in private, or casually in public, like when ordering coffee—my husband will have a caramel macchiato.

And this was only the beginning. Hisoka kept wondering what else would come with time—what small customs they’d build that would belong only to them. What new patterns they’d fall into.

Still, the most fascinating part was the evidence: the real-world, physical proof that things weren’t the same as they had been just a month ago. His wedding band, for instance. He loved the feel of it on his finger, loved reaching for it and fiddling with it, stretching out his hand just to see how the light caught the metal.

And of course, there was their shared surname, now printed on half a dozen updated documents, since Illumi had insisted it was a high priority to get everything sorted as soon as possible. Even the name on the building’s intercom panel now bore their shared name. Though in that case, they had settled on a modest Hisoka and Illumi M–Z so as not to attract unwanted attention.

Last but not least, there was the family group chat, which he’d been added to sometime after the wedding. That, perhaps more than anything, had been the most surreal part of it all. It was a completely new experience for Hisoka, and he found himself fascinated by all the little interactions taking place there: the jokes, the dramas, the typos and reaction emojis—seeing the Zoldycks in a new light. In true Zoldyck fashion, Illumi and Silva kept their input minimal, usually just reading or leaving a thumbs-up. When they did write something, it was short, direct, and strictly informational. Milluki, Kalluto, and Zeno, on the other hand, were far more active, treating the chat as a casual, recreational space. And then there were the occasional bursts of messages from Kikyo, mostly when the topic turned to the household or family meetings.

Yes, it was captivating, but at the same time, it made him uneasy. He wasn’t someone who cared much about fitting in—quite the opposite—but now he was unusually self-aware of every word he might type, unsure how much he should participate, or whether he even wanted to. In short, he was still tiptoeing around the whole thing, trying to get a sense of the general vibe.

Now, with their upcoming weekend trip to the Zoldyck estate ahead, Hisoka sat on the couch with one leg slung over the armrest and Illumi curled beside him. Illumi was messaging the family about their visit when, on a whim, Hisoka decided to take the opportunity to be a little more proactive in the chat than he had been until now.

Murder Inc. HQ 🔪

Illumi: Hello family. Hisoka and I will arrive Saturday morning. We’ll stay through Sunday.

Hisoka: we have gifts for everyone (っ＾▽＾)っ 

Hisoka: and 600 photos 

Zeno: 👋👋👋

Milluki: omg SIX HUNDRED?? 😳 also giiifts?? 👀👀👀

Kikyo: Welcome back. Should we prepare anything special for Saturday dinner ?

Kalluto: Hello. :)

Hisoka: anything is fine. preferably not poisoned (¬‿¬)

Hisoka: but I was thinking… maybe we can watch the new Love & Nen episode together on Saturday? If we all agree *not* to watch it on Friday?

Kalluto: It sounds fun! But does that mean there will be no cookies Friday…? 

Kalluto: :(

Milluki: And no premiere 😭

Hisoka: but~

Hisoka: we brought snacks from Italya. tempting enough? (｀∀´)Ψ

Hisoka:🍫🍷🫒

Kikyo: I think that’s a lovely idea. And yes, we’ll postpone the cookies for Saturday so we can enjoy everything together.

Hisoka: ＼(＾▽＾)／

Milluki: fine. but if I see spoilers anywhere I’m exploding.

~~~

By the time they left the dining table, the gifts had been unwrapped, the stories from the trip had been told, and the photos from Illumi’s phone had been projected onto the wall and viewed one by one. Hisoka had laughed, eaten, drunk, and was now perfectly ready for the next order of business—the cherry on top of what had been, so far, a pleasant evening: the viewing of Love & Nen they had all agreed upon.

As soon as they rose from their seats, everyone scattered, rushing here and there. Hisoka helped when asked, but otherwise stayed to the side, observing the preparations. He was amused by how seriously the whole Love & Nen ordeal was treated in the Zoldyck household, smiling each time a new detail was deemed “absolutely necessary” for the viewing. Not that he didn’t enjoy having something good to snack on while watching the show himself.

During dinner, Hisoka had heard the others refer to Kalluto as the snack general, and indeed, when the time came, he took it upon himself to make sure everything was in place—darting in and out with a plate of spreads here, a bowl of popcorn there, and dispensing instructions to the other family members in between. He was still as polite and composed as always, but it was interesting to see him so animated and decisive, and Hisoka agreed the nickname suited him well.

Kikyo and Illumi stayed in the kitchen, choosing to prepare the handmade snacks themselves instead of leaving the job to the butlers. Kikyo had slid a tray of perfectly uniform biscuits into the oven, filling the air with the warm scent of butter, sugar, and chocolate, and was now busy with a complicated-looking tea infusion to “cleanse the palate,” while Illumi decided to recreate a bit of Italyan flavour with an olive, tomato, and rosemary focaccia. 

Silva retreated to who knows where. Zeno, on the other hand, roamed around despite making it clear he wouldn’t be taking part in the whole thing, chatting, inspecting their preparations, and snatching the occasional olive or cracker.

When it seemed the food preparations were coming to an end, Hisoka made his way to Silva’s study, where they were meant to watch the episode. As far as he knew, Silva kept two offices: one downstairs for receiving guests and holding family meetings, and another upstairs for paperwork and administrative matters. He hadn’t set foot in his study before, but he imagined it as nothing more than another workspace.

It turned out to be something quite different. One part of the spacious room held floor-to-ceiling bookshelves accompanied by a cozy reading nook, while the other part resembled a miniature cinema, complete with a giant TV, several comfortable-looking seats, and a coffee table crowded with snacks and drinks. All in all, it felt more like a recreation room than a place for filing post-assassination reports.

For a moment, Hisoka wondered if Silva was a cinema enthusiast. In his mind, the man was equal parts muscle and mercenary instinct, a weapon more than a person. And yet… there was this room. As strange as it was to picture him in a recreational space of his choosing, perhaps there was more to him than just the job. Well, that was a thought for another day.

Milluki was already there, busy making everything “premiere worthy,” as he put it, which seemed to entail angling the TV, adjusting the settings, dimming the lights, and lowering the blinds. At one point, he navigated through the TV menu and clicked on the episode “just to have it ready and check the audio.” On the screen, the opening theme of Love & Nen began to play, and Kalluto peeked from the hallway.

“Not without everyone!” he said.

Milluki grinned and wiggled the remote in the air, and Kalluto rushed in, trying to wrestle it from his hand. They went back and forth until the episode actually started playing, at which point Milluki stopped it and Kalluto left with a huff.

A few minutes later, the snack parade arrived in full force: Kikyo in front, carrying a porcelain teapot and a set of small cups; Illumi behind her with a wooden board stacked with slices of steaming focaccia; and Kalluto trailing with a plate piled high with biscuits that he kept eyeing longingly, almost stumbling in the process.

The coffee table was already crowded, so for a moment they shifted its contents around, sliding plates closer to the edge and rotating boards to slot them between bowls—Tetris-like—until everything found its place.

“So these are the cookies everybody’s so obsessed with?” Hisoka asked, taking one between two fingertips. It looked like a standard chocolate chip cookie you could get anywhere, but the first bite into the still-warm treat proved otherwise. The crunch of the outer crust was light and satisfying, and when he bit deeper, the semi-molten chunks of chocolate dissolved on his tongue in a cocoa burst. But there was more beyond what made the chocolate chip a golden classic—something that elevated its flavor, even if Hisoka couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. He just knew they were dangerously addictive.

“Mmm. Delicious. You’ll have to give me the recipe so I can make them at home.”

“Happy you enjoy it,” Kikyo said, “but replicating the recipe is out of the question.”

Oh? And here he thought they were getting along so well.

“You see,” Kikyo giggled, leaning in slightly, “for the finishing touch, I use a sprinkle of my aura, which means you’ll have to come here if you want more.”

That old fox. Hisoka smiled. He could respect a player when he saw one.

“Speaking of aura,” Kalluto said, wiping cookie crumbs from his lips, “what do you think Lucia will do? Will she go ahead and marry Helene?”

“I sure hope not!” Kikyo said. “Of course, Helene is a perfectly fine lady, but how can we trust her after learning what she did?”

“I still can’t get over what happened with Gregorio,” Hisoka said, shaking his head. “Still, it might have just been a coincidence. Think about it—what if the killer’s aura was just very similar to Helene's?”

“Wait a minute,” Illumi said. “Wasn’t Helene the maid of honour? And please remind me—who was Gregorio?”

“No, no!” Kalluto said, sitting up so quickly it looked like he might spring right off his seat. “Helene is Lucia’s fiancée, and she was moments away from marrying her. But when Helene’s aura exploded, angry that the priest had come to the wedding drunk, Lucia recognised her aura as identical to the Nen of the person who killed her brother, Gregorio.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for clarifying.”

“Hey!” Milluki said, shifting in his seat. “Are we watching this or what?”

“Anytime you’re ready, honeybear,” Kikyo said. 

Milluki muttered something under his breath and hit play, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. 

It took an almost inhuman effort not to repeat the nickname out loud. Instead, Hisoka put a big red “important” stamp on the information and filed it away for future entertainment.

The intro rolled, plates shifted, cups clinked, and everyone reached for something to snack on. Hisoka helped himself to a piece of focaccia and, while biting into it, glanced at the faces around him, just as curious to see how this family viewing would play out as he was about the episode itself.

It turned out to be more than enjoyable. Every twist in the plot was met with gasps or bursts of laughter, and every time a character made a questionable choice, commentary followed.

The whole thing wasn’t like watching alone, and it wasn’t like watching with Illumi either. He did love those nights—just the two of them, cozy together—but his dear Illu, as witty as he was, seemed incapable of keeping up with the tangled subplots and sudden revelations that came at every turn. Here though, the Zoldycks were wholly absorbed in the story, following it without effort, and that collective energy made watching the show even more exciting.

To Hisoka’s surprise, Milluki was the least vocal about the whole thing, refraining from joining the chorus of constant speculation and commentary flowing from the rest of the family. It was certainly odd—he was supposed to be the show’s number one fan, and he wasn’t exactly one to shy away from sharing his thoughts. No one else seemed to notice that, but halfway through the episode, Hisoka had already formed a theory, one that was confirmed when Milluki burst into a laughing fit moments before a funny line was delivered.

“Millu tell me… have you already seen this?” Hisoka asked.

Kikyo gasped as if it were another twist in the plot. “No, you wouldn’t, right, honeybear?”

“I—uhm, I mean…” Milluki’s eyes bounced between the faces turned toward him. An angry-red flush worked its way down from his cheeks to his neck, and while he seemed unable to get a single word out, Kalluto snatched the remote and pressed pause.

“Alright, fine!” Milluki said, his voice pitching higher than usual. “I did watch it! I didn’t want to, okay? But for a second I thought I saw a spoiler on Chirper, and I panicked.”

“Well, Milluki,” Hisoka said. He looked him straight in the eyes while stretching a filament of Bungee Gum under the table, out of Milluki’s sight. “I can’t say I approve, but I can understand.” He pressed one hand to his chest, letting out an exaggerated sigh and making sure Milluki’s attention stayed fixed on him.

At the same time, a glossy pink strand peeked out from the other side of the table, scooped up a generous pinch of salt, and dropped it into Milluki’s soda.

“All that to say—I forgive you.”

“… Thanks?”

“Alright,” Hisoka said, picking up his glass of Chianti, “how about a toast before we get back to it?”

He raised his glass high, and the others mirrored him, each with their own drink. Out of the corner of his eye, Hisoka caught Kalluto stifling a laugh behind a napkin.

“To the Zoldycks,” Hisoka said, “and to Love & Nen.”

They all tilted their glasses and cans to take a sip, and Hisoka’s gaze stayed on Milluki with the kind of anticipation one has just before a firecracker goes off.

Milluki took a long pull from his soda, only to sputter it onto the rug a moment later. Some of it splattered across the table, and a few snacks were sacrificed in the process. Still worth it.

Hisoka burst into laughter, and the others followed suit. Kikyo pressed a hand to her lips, trying to hide her giggles; Kalluto abandoned any pretense, laughing loud and childlike; and Illumi shook his head, though he did so with a smile.

Milluki’s eyes narrowed as he darted his gaze around the room. “Alright,” he said, voice flat. “Which one of you did this?”

No one answered. Hisoka took another sip, smiling politely at him as if nothing had happened.

Milluki’s shoulders dropped, and he let out a long exhale. “Fine,” he said. “I guess I deserved that.”

After that, they resumed the episode in high spirits. Even Milluki seemed more animated than before, though this time, he kept the soda bottle close, never letting it out of his sight.

~~~

They got back to the apartment late Sunday evening. Illumi set his bag by the door and went straight to the kitchen for a glass of water, while Hisoka dropped onto the couch, toeing off his shoes and stretching out. A moment later, the phone on the coffee table gave a single buzz. Hisoka groped for it, picked it up, and unlocked the screen.

Murder Inc. HQ 🔪

Milluki: so i finally tried the olive focaccia from yesterday and. okay. not bad.

Hisoka: not *bad*?

Hisoka: Millu, i’ll have you know my husband kneaded that dough with his own perfect hands. show some respect. it was de-li-cious.

Kikyo: I agree, Illumi did a splendid job.

Illumi: 👍

Milluki: anyway

Milluki: maybe you two could come in 3 weeks for the season finale??

Kikyo: Yes, we could make it extra special! How about theme dinner and theme snacks?

Silva: 👍

Hisoka: i’m in if Illu’s free.

Hisoka: and yes to theme everything.

Illumi: Should be fine. I’ll confirm.

Milluki: alright… but no sabotaging my drink this time 😑

Hisoka: oh Millu… we would never (っ＾▽＾)っ

Hisoka: (unless you watch it without us, then all bets are off)

Milluki: 

Hisoka chuckled, sent a string of emojis, and thought that maybe the chat wasn’t so bad after all. He might even be starting to like it.

Chapter Text

One of my fave scenes drawn by me (Lady Bisky)

An art created by me (Lady Bisky)

Greetings from sunny Italya! An art created by me (Lady Bisky) and inspired by the Rohman Holiday chapter.