Chapter Text
As a principle, Hisoka didn’t regret the decisions he made, because he trusted in his instincts very deeply, and his gut rarely steered him wrong.
Rarely.
Sometimes, though.
If he’d known the man he killed was the CEO of Heaven’s Arena, Hisoka perhaps would have hesitated. If he’d known the young man that came rushing in with a gun was the CEO’s only child, Hisoka perhaps would have hesitated.
At the very least, he might have executed the two of them more subtly, and not in the middle of the restaurant in front of a dozen witnesses.
Then again, the CEO used very rude language to describe Hisoka and then tauntingly said, “What are you going to do, kill me?”
What was he supposed to do?
And the son, lips pulled over his teeth in a sneer, added, “This isn't your fighting tower, Cuckold the Clown.”
Hm. No, Hisoka didn’t regret killing these two.
But the CEO’s wife, the son’s mother, was making Hisoka’s life a living hell. His apartment at Celestial Tower was destroyed. His phone was shut off. His bank accounts were drained--except the secret one, thankfully--and he couldn’t even get a taxi to the airport. He had to walk. In his heels. At least they were booties, this time--slightly more support. The four mile walk in the rain wasn’t incredibly pleasant, still.
And at the airport, he couldn’t even get a ticket on a blimp.
The woman raised her hands in terror, stepping back from the ticketing window. “I’ll be killed if I even talk to you too long. Please. Please, leave.”
“Where should I go?” Hisoka asked.
“Locomotives aren’t digital--their ticketing system is still analog. You might not flag them if you go there.” Then the girl added, her whispering desperate, “Please leave.”
“Very well. Thank you,” said Hisoka.
Another mile down the highway to the trains. Not the fancy, clean, new transit that had been implemented across much of the world in the last decade.
No, the steam engines, which were--
A train horn bleated pitifully in the distance while Hisoka rummaged through a nearby thrift shop for something new to wear. After he purchased the outfit, he asked, “May I use your dressing room to change?”
The cashier leaned against the counter, not even bothering to look up, and tapped idly on his phone. “Knock yourself out.”
The rain had washed away all his makeup and with a liberal use of texture surprise, Hisoka was able to turn his hair an inconspicuous ashy blond. As he turned around in the mirror, his black velour tracksuit hugging his thighs perhaps a touch more tightly than he’d prefer, Hisoka considered returning to the airport.
No one would recognize him.
Well, probably no one. He hadn’t had a natural hair color in a very long time, and most would be shocked to see him wearing a pair of used, basic trainers. His eyes, too--he cast his nen over them, toning the natural yellow to something closer to goldish-brown, and with the new eyeglasses he found--lensless, of course--he looked truly normal.
He was still rather tall, though. And he was never good at masking his voice. He was never very good at being covert. That’s what he had friends for.
Standing in front of the dressing room mirror, Hisoka blinked at himself; a revelation in his eyes.
That is what he had friends for. One friend, specifically.
Hisoka exited the thrift shop, leaving behind his old clothes, and left to purchase a train ticket--one way--to the other end of the continent. He settled into a seat for the six day journey and smiled to himself.
“Having friends is a fine thing,” he mumbled.
The other patrons in the train car all subtly shifted away.
“Oh,” Illumi said, lowering a pin. “It’s just you.”
Hisoka tried to pretend like his heart didn’t do a summersault at Illumi recognizing him straight away. “That worked out nicely. I was concerned you wouldn’t know it was me until too late.” A snarling black beast that Hisoka recognized as Illumi’s pet dog clawed the earth near Hisoka, primed to kill.
“Mike,” Illumi said, “Go lay down.”
The giant, loping dog circled Hisoka once before following orders and trotting away.
Illumi looked Hisoka up and down and blinked, as if only now realizing he wasn’t dressed as flamboyantly as possible. “Are you meant to be in disguise? You did a terrible job.”
Hisoka laughed, heart still singing in his chest. “I don’t have your gifts. But until now, no one has recognized me.” Six days. Dozens of train passengers. A bus of tourists. And even the guard at the gate--whom Hisoka had met twice before--no one knew.
“I suppose that is why everyone thinks you are dead,” Illumi said. He gestured for Hisoka to follow him. They began walking up the hiking path towards the manor, a chill cutting through the trees, speaking of snow to come.
“People think I’m dead?”
“News reached here two days ago. Supposedly a body matching your description washed up in the river near Celestial Tower. Considering how much money that woman--”
“Bella Belrush,” Hisoka supplied.
“Yes, she was offering a billion jenny for your death.”
“Were you tempted?”
Illumi looked over to Hisoka. “If I were interested, you would be dead.”
His heart was now doing a waltz. The intricate, romantic kind. “Why aren’t you interested?”
“I am commissioned directly. I do not complete jobs off a bulletin posted for Hunters online. It is beneath the Zoldyck name.” Illumi tapped his bottom lip with his thumb. “Milluki may try to kill you, though. He is raising money to build a second house farther down the mountain. Apparently mother has been invading his privacy too much.”
“Good for him,” said Hisoka, though he couldn’t fathom why Milluki wouldn’t simply move away entirely. He learned long ago that the Zoldyck matriarch had an enviable hold over her children.
“He could not beat you, though. I hope he does not try.”
“I’ll spare him if you ask me nicely,” Hisoka said, stepping just a little closer to Illumi’s side as they continued their walk.
“You will spare him if you want to continue to live,” Illumi said, and his beautiful hair fanned in the cold breeze, eyes flashing over to meet Hisoka’s.
Hisoka beamed his kindest grin. “Of course, Illumi.”
“Why are you here?”
“To ask for a place to stay.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We do not have room for guests.”
As they turned the corner, the Zoldyck manor appeared, and it was as comically enormous as the last few times Hisoka had seen it. It was a castle, in truth. Dozens of rooms were available, no doubt. Hisoka raised one brow and looked at Illumi, who stared back, perfectly blank. Eventually Hisoka broke the silence and said, “I’ll pay. I’ll work, even. For free. Take some jobs off your plate. I just have to lay low for a little while.”
“You may talk with Father, if you like.”
“I don’t think he likes me much. What about Kikyo?”
“You want to talk with Mother?”
“She likes me more.”
“I do not think that is true.”
“Trust me,” Hisoka said, and he gently bumped Illumi’s shoulder with one of his own. “I have an instinct for this sort of thing.”
And his instincts rarely steered him wrong.
Rarely.
Kikyo let him stay for free. Both Illumi and Silva frowned behind her, skeptical of her choice, while Hisoka kissed the back of her hand and said, “Thank you.”
“Any friend of Illumi’s is a friend of ours,” she said, her grin vivid white between dark red lips.
Illumi’s frown deepened.
“You can have the room across from his. It’s got the softest goose feather bed.” Kikyo fished her arm into Hisoka’s crooked elbow and guided him down a hall with marble floors and a plush red runner. “I’m sure it’ll be to your liking. Would you like tea?”
“I’d love tea,” said Hisoka.
“Darling,” Kikyo barked, glancing over her shoulder to Silva, who jerked to attention. “Tea!”
Silva shot Illumi a narrowed-eyed stare, accusingly, and Illumi simply glared back. Still, Silva followed orders, and disappeared deeper into the manor, most likely to the kitchen.
Over Kikyo’s shoulder, Hisoka met Illumi’s displeased stare and winked.
Illumi’s wrinkled nose of disgust made Hisoka’s heart dance again.