Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

* POV: Izunavi *

There is a reason why Izunavi chose to set up shop in the middle of nowhere.

He enjoys his solitude. He enjoys peace and quiet. He enjoys being one with nature among rustling leaves, chirping birds, and clean, babbling streams. The convenience of the big city isn’t worth all the smog, the litter, the constant honking of horns and the blaring of ambulance sirens. Self-sufficiency brings him a form of pride and reassurance; he doesn’t have to rely on anyone else for his hunting, fishing, foraging, or firewood. Here in the woods, he maintains the repairs to a small cottage he built with his own hands, with a small but bountiful garden plot in the back. His little oasis of serenity in a harsh world isn’t supposed to be easy to find.

But Izunavi is also a Hunter.

No Hunter worth their salt would ever be content to rest on their laurels, interacting with no one and accomplishing nothing. It’s right there in the first bylaw of the Hunter Association: A Hunter must always be on the Hunt.

What is Izunavi on the Hunt for? A challenge. New talent.

The other reason why Izunavi chose this isolated location is because of its proximity to the Hunter Agency, which is already so difficult to find that Rei rarely receives any visitors more often than twice in a single year. From there, anyone who is determined enough to seek out Izunavi deliberately, even after seeing through his misdirection, is worthy of being his student. Rei likes to joke that she sends all her rejects to him. Izunavi always jokes back that he’s the one keeping her in business. The reality is a little bit of both. During those interminable months-long stretches where their only company is the sound of their own voices, Rei and Izunavi often call or visit each other as a means of staying sane.

Izunavi could use a distraction. Every year, the newly minted rookies from the Hunter Exam are completely hit or miss. As usual, this dry spell has gone on for far too long.

Until today.

In between swings of his axe, Izunavi’s ears pick up the sound of two approaching voices and a loud, unfamiliar crunching sound that doesn’t resemble walking footsteps. This should be interesting. Are they visitors? Overconfident opponents seeking a fight? Although he can’t understand a word, their calm, casual tones do not suggest that their owners are lost, unwary travelers who happened to stumble upon Izunavi’s abode by accident. Whoever they are, they aren’t even trying to hide themselves.

* POV: Pairo *

A masculine singing voice drifts to Pairo’s ears among the birdsong and chattering squirrels in the trees, punctuated by the rhythm of chopping firewood. After several hours wheeling through the woods while following meandering deer trails, false leads, and the scantest traces of human habitation, Pairo and Kurapika’s research efforts have finally paid off.

Then the singing abruptly stops.

They have been noticed.

“Visitors, huh? You two don’t look lost, so I’m not going to ask how you managed to find me. Here, catch.”

He can barely hear it, but he can feel it. Pairo has just enough time to duck as a deadly projectile whizzes over his head – something small and round and tapered to a point, accompanied by a threatening sense of pressure that not only reaches his sensitive ears, but raises goosebumps on his skin as it passes. A fraction of a second later, he hears it smashing through a tree trunk directly behind him.

At the very same moment, Kurapika’s presence flares into a miniature sun on Pairo’s left, deflecting the second projectile at a slight angle away from his body. The effort leaves Kurapika gasping for breath.

“I did it!” Kurapika pants. “I parried my first nen attack! How was that?”

“Slow. Clumsy. Inefficient,” the stranger critiques. “You used way too much energy all over your whole body, when it would have been far more effective to concentrate on only the part of your body that was about to get hit.”

Pairo claps his hands together, delighted. “So you do know how to teach nen! Hi, my name is Pairo, and this is my boyfriend Kurapika! If you can knock him down a peg or two, I think I like you already!”

“Aw, that bad? I’ve been practicing every day for a month,” grumbles Kurapika.

“A month!?” The stranger sounds taken aback. “Okay, now you really have my attention. Sure, I’ll take you two on as my students, since you came all this way. You can call me Izunavi.”

“Nice to meet you!” Pairo greets their new teacher cheerfully.

Izunavi hums contemplatively as his footsteps crunch closer through last year’s dry leaf litter. “Hmm, so I see we’re going to have to start training from the fundamentals. Nice dodge, for someone whose aura nodes aren’t open yet.”

Pairo furrows his eyebrows. “My what?”

“Aura nodes are like pores all over your body, constantly leaking a tiny stream of your life force into the air around you,” Izunavi explains. “Every living thing naturally emits aura. Any human or magical beast who learns how to use nen can unlock the potential of their aura to strengthen the natural abilities of their bodies.”

“Do we have to attack Pairo before he can use nen?” Kurapika asks with concern in his voice. “That’s how I started learning by accident, but I don’t want to hurt him.”

“In that case, you are very lucky, Kurapika. If you hadn’t mastered Ten quickly enough, then allowing so much aura to escape from your body all at once could have left you permanently exhausted or severely injured. Ten is the first principle of nen: learning how to keep your aura nodes open while controlling the flow of your aura around your body to keep it from flying away.”

As he changes the subject to answer Kurapika’s original question, Izunavi’s voice addresses Pairo directly. “The standard practice to learn Ten is to meditate until you can open your aura nodes on your own. This process normally takes at least six months for someone who is exceptionally talented,” Izunavi replies.

Pairo frowns, uneasy. “We’re kindof in a hurry,” Pairo tells Izunavi. “I don’t want Hisoka getting so impatient waiting to fight me that he attacks you instead!” He adds, addressing Kurapika.

Kurapika takes hold of Pairo’s left hand and gives it a squeeze. “Do you think facing Hisoka later is a bigger risk than having your nen forcibly awakened right now?”

Squeezing Kurapika’s hand in return, Pairo nods. “If you managed to control it, then so can I.”

“In that case, brace yourself and get ready to concentrate on your whole body all at once, from every single strand of hair all the way down to your toenails. When I did it, I was trying to imitate the way Kalluto was able to control the shape of the aura around him, but I don’t know if you will be able to see me or Izunavi in the same way.” Kurapika lets go of Pairo’s hand and steps a healthy distance away. “I’ll be over here trying not to distract you.” True to his word, Kurapika goes completely still.

Pairo smiles in his general direction. “You don’t have to hold your breath, Pika. I promise I’ll be fine.”

“You’re certain?” Izunavi asks for direct confirmation, one last time.

“I’m ready,” says Pairo.

Suddenly, the air around Izunavi seems to thicken, prickling with hostility. A burst of solid heat collides with Pairo’s chest. Then the forest blooms into a riot of dazzling white light all around him.

Pairo gasps, and not just because half the breath has been punched out of his lungs.

The dark silhouettes of tall, straight tree trunks are wreathed in silver. Every leaf stands out starkly against the sky, as if encased in a layer of frost. There is a subtle glow emanating from every blade of grass, every fern, and every patch of moss. Shimmering birds huddle next to each other on a distant tree branch. Two squirrels chase each other, sparking with scintillating flashes of light as they make gravity defying leaps through the canopy.

He can’t stop staring, his wide eyes flicking from one new wonder to the next.

For the first time in six years, Pairo can see.

“Kurapika,” Pairo utters, hushed with awe, “You didn’t tell me it would be so beautiful.”

Standing at Pairo’s left, Kurapika’s aura flickers like a candle, highlighting the beloved features of his face that Pairo has mapped so many times with his fingertips. Before Pairo’s eyes, Kurapika’s aura suddenly shifts from white to red as he goes slack-jawed with shock. The scarlet of his eyes is glaringly obvious, leaking out from behind his contact lenses.

Can they trust the teacher they have only just met with their clan’s secret? Is the cat already out of the bag? What will Izunavi say? At any rate, it’s too late to do anything about it now.

Izunavi’s aura surrounds him like a tightly controlled, white-hot campfire. He looks just as stunned as Kurapika, although the person he is staring at is Pairo.

Brightest of all, Pairo’s own aura roars like a bonfire, tinting the world crimson as the significance of what he is seeing hits him harder than Izunavi’s nen strike.

Uh oh. Um. He’d better get that under control.

Pairo takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and concentrates until he can keep his aura contained in a bubble around him. Kurapika was right. It’s hard work! By the time he opens his eyes again, the glow is vastly diminished and Kurapika, Izunavi, and the forest have returned to indistinct blurs around him.

Phew! No wonder Kurapika seemed winded earlier! Expending so much aura all at once feels a lot like the first phase of the Hunter Exam, when Pairo was struggling through the rough terrain of the Milsy Wetlands while carrying Kurapika’s unconscious body strapped to his wheelchair. Minus the frog spit.

Izunavi pointedly clears his throat. “I’m pretty sure both of you are Specialists, which is exceptionally rare even among nen users. I’ll explain later. There are a lot of other concepts we need to cover first.”

Izunavi must have noticed something, although by the sound of it, it seems to have more to do with Pairo’s nen than his eyes. Unfortunately, that doesn’t give Pairo much reassurance. Pairo knows what he saw. In his heart, he is already sure the color of Kurapika’s nen and the color of his eyes must be linked.

As soon as the danger is over, Kurapika can no longer contain himself. Although now Pairo can only see Kurapika’s aura as a dim haze around his blurred body, it still feels scarlet with excitement. Kurapika pounces on Pairo with an enthusiastic hug. “Pairo! What was beautiful? What were you looking at? What did you see!? Tell me everything!”

“Please excuse us for a moment, Izunavi,” Pairo politely addresses their new teacher with an apologetic smile. “Normally I’m mostly blind, so it was a big deal for me to start seeing clear glowing lines around all the living things in this forest.”

Then Pairo switches to Kuruta. “Getting all poetic about looking up at the sky through the gaps between the tree leaves will have to wait, Kurapika, because you know what else I saw? Your aura turned from white to red, and it was leaking out all over the place from your eyes! It can’t be a coincidence. I don’t think our new teacher knows what’s going on behind our contact lenses yet, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to tell him, because otherwise he’ll find out anyway whether we like it or not.”

Kurapika sounds dismayed as he lets go of Pairo and straightens back into a full standing position. “You saw through my contact lenses? How was I supposed to know that could happen!?”

“You couldn’t know, Pika. Neither of us could. But if I saw it, he must have seen it too.” Pairo reaches up to pat him on the back. “So now what do we do? Should we trust him, or should we leave before he has time to connect the dots?”

“It would invite suspicion if we left now after we just got here. Also, if our eyes really are connected to our nen like you suspect, then anyone we ask to be our teacher is eventually going to find out,” Kurapika concludes. “I think you’re right, and we’re going to have to tell him. After that, all we can do is hope for the best.”

Pairo addresses their teacher, switching back to Hunter Language. “Izunavi, can you tell us more about what being a Specialist means? Because I have a feeling it’s related to something particular you need to know about who we are. We won’t be leaving this place as strangers.”

“I understand. Seeking a nen teacher is a leap of faith, because any teacher who successfully helps you to develop your abilities will one day gain an in-depth understanding of your nen type, your strengths and weaknesses, and how your limitations may be used against you.” Izunavi acknowledges Pairo’s concern. “I accept full responsibility for keeping every secret I learn about you as my students.”

“Good!” Pairo smiles in Izunavi’s general direction. “Then I’m glad we found you.”

“Now, to answer your earlier question, a Specialist is one of the six nen types, meaning that you will be able to develop a unique ability that does not fall neatly into any of the other five categories,” Izunavi explains. “And you are correct: It is only possible to become a Specialist if you experience unique or extreme life circumstances, or because of a specific trait in your bloodline. If I had to guess what circumstances made you into a Specialist, my first guess is because of your blindness. The way you perceive the world will have a strong influence on your nen abilities.”

“It’s more than that,” Kurapika interjects. “We’re from the Kuruta Clan, in Lukso Province. If you’ve ever heard rumors about the Red-Eyed Monsters whose children are strong enough to win against a group of adults in a fight if you get them angry enough, and who supposedly haven’t been seen near Nancha City in the last century, well… that’s us.”

Izunavi pauses for a moment, considering. “You don’t seem like monsters to me. In fact, you were unexpectedly good sports about it when the first thing I greeted you with was an attack.”

“Blame Pairo, he’s the polite one,” quips Kurapika.

Pairo grins. “Although in this case, tracking you down and trespassing in your home without permission could hardly be called polite. We weren’t exactly expecting a welcoming party!”

“You don’t really mind, right Izunavi?” Kurapika prompts playfully. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve made friends by attacking somebody!”

* POV: Izunavi *

Izunavi welcomes having company. Izunavi doesn’t mind sharing his home for a few months, or a few years, or however long his new students deign to stick around before they decide to move on with their lives. His guests are free to stay here, as long as they are largely self-sufficient in gathering their own food, and help him out with chores around the cottage.

That said, having such young and boisterous students is a little overwhelming.

Most people would want to rest after trekking through the forest for hours, only to be confronted by an unexpected nen attack. Most people would pass out shortly after having their nen forcibly awakened, even if they manage to master Ten in a relatively short time. Pairo and Kurapika are not most people.

Instead of asking about their accommodations and taking the time to get settled in, his two new students are eager to start on their lessons right away. Too impatient to wait until Izunavi starts explaining on his own, Kurapika overflows with questions about the principles of nen he already started learning before finding a teacher, while Pairo leans forward in his wheelchair, listening intently.

“So, if Ten is when we focus on our aura to keep it from flying away from our bodies, then what does it mean when I do this?” asks Kurapika as he flares his Ren one more time, then reins it back in. “And how about this?” Kurapika follows up by closing his aura nodes entirely, sealing his presence away with Zetsu. “What happens when you form aura into any shape you want? What kind of nen technique is it to make an ordinary object like an acorn into a weapon, like you just did when you threw them at us?”

Izunavi holds up one hand to silence him. “Slow down, Kurapika. To answer all your questions, we need to start from the beginning. Let me tell you about the four fundamental principles of nen.”

* POV: Killua *

First, Gon’s Aunt Mito welcomes Killua with open arms.

Then, she orders both of them to go put their dirty clothes in the laundry and take a bath before dinner: no ifs, ands, or buts.

While berating Gon for haring off on an adventure so recklessly without so much as writing to warn her when he was on his way back- with a friend, no less- she magically whips up an entire feast from nothing. Killua is their guest of honor, sitting between Gon and his great grandmother Abe at the Freecs family’s dinner table. Here, the stories begin to flow as freely as the food: about the Hunter Exam, about Gon’s childhood, about Mito’s childhood, even as far back as Abe’s childhood. Killua stays quiet, and stuffs himself until he can barely move.

After sleeping over in Gon’s room, Killua spends the entire next day wandering the mountain with Gon as his guide, fishing and foraging and being introduced to all the forest animals. That night, they camp out under more stars than Killua has ever seen in his entire life.

Killua hasn’t known this much freedom since his family dropped him off at the base of Heavens Arena at the age of six and sternly instructed him not to come back until he had fought his way up to the 190th floor.

Only this time, he doesn’t have to fight.

He doesn’t have to kill anyone.

He doesn’t have to come back.

Although… he’s going to miss Gotoh, and Canary, and Amane. Maybe even that scary old hag Tsubone, Killua reflects with a regretful squeeze of his heart.

And what about his little brother, who so tentatively wanted to be Killua’s friend? Killua wonders what Kalluto would make of all this: the warmth, the caring, the peace. Killua imagines himself and Kalluto looking at each other and sharing a terrible, wordless understanding. They can’t stay here. No Zoldyck belongs on Whale Island, with the bloodstains under their claws.

It doesn’t take very long before Killua can sense a restlessness from his travel companion too, similar yet different.

Gon doesn’t belong here either. He is a Hunter now. Having outgrown this sleepy seaside village, he now belongs to the whole wide world.

Does Killua belong there too, exploring the unknown with Gon? Killua isn’t sure yet. But hey, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

* POV: Gon *

Gon could always tell whenever Aunt Mito was lying to him. Every time Gon asked about Ging, she would avert her eyes as she told him that both his father and mother were dead.

Now, for the first time since becoming Gon’s mother, Mito sits across from him and tells him the whole truth.

Ging is Mito’s cousin, about eight years older than her. When he was eleven, in Mito’s earliest memories, he had an extraordinary ability to find her no matter how far she wandered on the island, in places where all the adults would have given up and called off their search. That very same year, not long before his birthday, he caught the Master of the Swamp with the very same fishing rod that has since been passed down to Gon’s hands. Then he left to take the Hunter Exam and never looked back- except once, ten years later, carrying a young Gon in his arms.

After Mito won custody of Gon at the tender age of fourteen, Ging left behind one more item to pass along when Gon became a Hunter. Now, Ging’s prophecy has come to pass. Now, Gon has his very own Hunter License. Now, no matter how many times Mito tried to get rid of it, only for Abe to fish it right back out of the garbage again, Mito finally gives in. She couldn’t stop Ging from leaving then and she couldn’t stop Gon from leaving now. With great resignation, she places a small, cubic metal box in Gon’s hands.

What could be inside?

Will it contain any clues as to where Gon can possibly find Ging?

Gon can’t wait to find out!

There’s just one problem…

The box won’t open!

First, Gon tries using his Hunter license. No matter how he examines the mysterious box on all six sides, there is no obvious slot for him to insert the card. Tapping his license against each side of the box also does absolutely nothing.

Next, Gon and Killua try brute force. After crushing it, twisting it, pulling in two different directions, and jumping up and down on top of it, there still isn’t a single scratch or dent showing on the metal surface. Not even Killua’s strength to open three testing gates is enough.

“Argh!” Frustrated, Gon throws himself face-down on his bed. “Now what do we do?”

Killua pauses for a moment, thinking. “I have an idea. Didn’t you say my baby brother accidentally gave Kurapika some weird new powers?”

Gon brightens immediately. “Yeah! Let’s call him!”

He barely takes two steps in a mad dash toward the kitchen, where Aunt Mito’s landline hangs from the wall, before Killua stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going? I have a cell phone, remember?”

“Oh yeah!” Gon grins back sheepishly. Killua ignores him, already punching in Kurapika’s number.

Recognizing Killua’s phone number, Kurapika greets him cheerily after only one ring. “Hi, Killua! Are you still visiting Whale Island with Gon? Tell me all about your trip!”

“Hi, Killua!” Pairo echoes faintly from slightly farther away.

“I’ll tell you later,” Killua deflects Kurapika’s question. “You’re learning to use your weird powers, right? Gon’s dad gave him this box we can’t open, and we were wondering if you could open it.”

“I’m not sure, but let me ask our new teacher. He’s a Hunter too.” Kurapika’s voice comes through slightly more faintly as he presumably turns his head away from his phone. “Hey, Izunavi! Is it possible to make a box that only opens with nen?”

An audible sigh makes its way across the connection, followed by the sound of an unfamiliar man’s voice. “Yes, there is an advanced nen enhancing technique known as inscription that makes it possible. No, I’m not adding inscription writing to your basic lesson plan.”

“Wow!” enthuses Gon, squashing their faces together as he crowds next to Killua to shout into his cell phone at a far louder volume than necessary. “Does that mean you can teach us how to open our box!?”

“Ow, keep it down, Gon! Think of my poor ear!” Kurapika complains from the other end of the line.

“Sorry!” Gon whisper-shouts.

“My condition for accepting new students is that they have to find me first,” Izunavi responds to Gon, sounding resigned. “Kurapika, Pairo, don’t give them any clues.”

“Yes, teacher!” Pairo replies.

Kurapika adds, “My lips are sealed!”

If anything, Gon bursts with even more excitement, although at least he makes a better attempt to control his volume this time. “Yeah! What are we waiting for? Let’s go, Killua! It will be great training for trying to find Ging!”

* POV: Kurapika *

Three days after finding Izunavi in his home turf, Kurapika and Pairo are well acquainted with the lay of the land. The immediate area surrounding Izunavi’s cottage is a clearing with an irregular, ever-changing border as the areas he previously cleared for firewood begin to fill back in with bushes, ferns, and young saplings. The only hard border around the settlement is a clear stream to the south, from where they fetch their drinking water, wash their clothes, take baths, or catch frogs or crayfish for a nice meal. Farther downstream, the running water mingles into a larger river with strong currents and foaming rapids. The larger river isn’t safe to swim in, but it’s a good place to catch the fish that keep leaping out of the water to gulp up flying insects and unsuspecting birds.

Kurapika and Pairo are free to come and go as they please, or even to leave if they would prefer to receive training from someone else. So far there’s no reason to leave. Staying here is like having their own secret forest village in miniature, only without Elder Tapikt administering cultural tests and acting as a gatekeeper to the Outside world. The rules are straightforward. Much like in Lukso Province, Kurapika and Pairo are expected to do three things. One: listen to Izunavi, who takes the place of their Elder in this setting, two: keep up with their studies, and three: contribute to the well-being of their little community, mostly through making sure everyone has enough to eat.

Since arriving here, Kurapika has learned the names of the techniques he started experimenting with before he realized what they were.

Ten: The act of shrouding his body in aura without letting any of it fly away, even with his aura nodes open.

Ren: The act of opening his aura nodes wide, allowing his aura to flare around him in both a display of power and a way to reinforce the natural offensive and defensive abilities of his body.

Zetsu: The act of closing off his aura nodules until his aura disappears completely.

Then there’s the fourth technique, Hatsu, which Izunavi keeps stubbornly withholding information about until Kurapika and Pairo master better control over the first three techniques. Hatsu has something to do with Hisoka’s razor-sharp paying cards, the way Chairman Netero leapt out of a flying airship without breaking every bone in his body, and Kalluto’s snake formed entirely from wind. The possibilities for forming a nen ability must be as limitless as the stars in the sky.

Hatsu also has something to do with Izunavi telling Kurapika and Pairo that they are Specialists. Kurapika is dying to find out what that means. Izunavi won’t tell him until he deems them ready, no matter how many questions Kurapika asks.

“Izunavi, how could you tell we were Specialists when you first forced Pairo’s aura nodes open?”

“It was from the way I could see and feel a change in your aura,” Izunavi answers too vaguely for Kurapika to fully grasp. “It’s something you will learn with experience.”

Later, he means. Always later.

“What are the other nen types?” Kurapika presses on impatiently.

“We will cover that subject when we get to Water Divination. If your friends can find us, we will also need to wait for them to catch up on Ten, Ren, and Zetsu first.”

Kurapika can understand Izunavi not wanting to repeat himself if possible. Although having to wait for Gon and Killua is a slight setback, at least it will also be more fun when they get here. But what about after that? “When will we be ready to move on to Hatsu training?”

“When you can hold your Ren for ten minutes without stopping,” Izunavi replies curtly as his patience with Kurapika’s questions wears thin.

Kurapika always pushes his elders too far. “How long will that take?”

Finally, Izunavi gets fed up. “Clearly, I am not training you hard enough. No more questions until after you’ve held your Ren for five more minutes.”

“Aw man!” Five minutes of Ren will take hours to get through! So far Kurapika can only manage one minute continuously before losing his breath. Then he has to go into Zetsu for at least half an hour before he’s ready to try again.

Pairo snickers at Kurapika’s punishment, the traitor. As if he isn’t just as nosy about gardening as Kurapika is about everything else!

As soon as he laid eyes on Izunavi’s modest, haphazard vegetable plot, Kurapika knew Pairo was going to have opinions about it. On day one, after Izunavi finished giving Kurapika names for all the nen techniques he was already trying to practice without knowing what they were, the first question Pairo asked Izunavi was, “When was the last time you watered these poor radishes?” Then without waiting for an answer, Pairo filled up a watering can from the little stream and watered them himself.

Now, only three days after Pairo got his hands in the dirt, the vegetables are already looking a little bit bigger, leafier, and without any obvious holes in the newer leaves.

“Izunavi, did you know that slugs and snails don’t like crawling over crushed acorn shells? Did you know your raspberry bushes are taking over your entire bean patch? You shouldn’t plant your squash seeds in the shade. They weren’t doing well, so I moved them to a sunny patch in the clearing, farther from the shadow of your house. Also, did you know your broccoli plants weren’t getting enough calcium? That’s why I could feel bumpy spots on the leaves. I added some crushed eggshells to the soil, but watering your garden with a mix of water and compost should also help. Where’s your compost heap? You are composting your vegetable scraps, right?”

Izunavi waves him off, looking bored and annoyed. Clearly he doesn’t appreciate Pairo’s green thumb like Kurapika does. “Plant whatever you like, I don’t care. If it grows, it grows. If it doesn’t grow, it wasn’t meant to grow. There’s plenty of other food to gather in the forest.”

“Oh,” Pairo responds with a small, scandalized gasp of disappointment. “Don’t listen to him.” Crouching down low to cup his hands conspiratorially around their tender leaves, Pairo whispers to the radishes in Kuruta. “I care about whether you are healthy and happy!”

“And Pairo?” says Izunavi, “I said no more questions. Hold your Ren for ten more minutes.” Before Kurapika can gloat over Pairo getting in trouble too, Izunavi adds dryly, “That goes for both of you.”

* POV: Killua *

“Finding Izunavi should be easy. Trust me, I’ve been tracking targets since I was barely out of diapers,” Killua brags with absolute confidence. “All we have to do is ask my butlers to dig up some intel for us, and-”

“That’s cheating!” Gon cuts Killua off, with his hands clenched into stubborn fists at his sides. “What kind of Hunter would I be if I asked your butlers to find Ging for me?”

Folding both arms across his chest, Killua huffs and rolls his eyes. “Fine, then what’s your idea?”

Gon’s frown turns into a wide grin in a heartbeat. “We’ll look for clues! I think I recognized the song of a red tufted seed wren while we were on the phone with Kurapika. And there were lots of leaves rustling in the wind, too, probably somewhere in a forest. The leaves didn’t sound dry, which means wherever Kurapika and Pairo are right now, it’s either summer or it’s warm all year! If we look up the migration range of seed wrens in late March, that should give us a good place to start!”

“Huh, good call.” Killua is impressed. Of course Gon would use the local wildlife to tell him where to go! “Maybe we can use your license to find something about Izunavi and what kind of Hunter he is on the Hunter Website, too. We can cross reference and see if there are any places where the information overlaps. Let’s go into town and find an internet cafe.”

“I’ll race you!” shouts Gon. Then he’s off like a rocket.

Chapter Text

* POV: Leorio *

Ever since sparing the time to visit Lukso Province, Leorio has been too busy studying to focus on anything else. Too busy to visit Gon’s family on Whale Island. Too busy to start apartment hunting. Too busy to start trying to make new friends in York Shin City. He didn’t even pause for one day to celebrate his own 20th birthday, other than indulging in one expensive long-distance phone call with his mother back home.

It all comes down to this: Today is the day he booked his entrance exams for York New University’s medical program. Will he make it? Will he get in? Is there even a point in trying to meet new people before he knows with absolute certainty that he’s going to stay here?

Leorio is jangling with nerves as he boards the subway and winds his way through the university campus to the testing center. Soon he finds himself in front of a windowless, nondescript building with a line of hundreds of students waiting to be let in, some chatting among themselves, some leaning against the red brick wall looking bored, and some with their noses buried in their notes for some last minute cramming. Leorio sticks out like a sore thumb. He is both taller and older than all of them.

How many of these other students will be his classmates?

How many are even taking the same test?

Fifteen minutes before the start of the exam, the proctors open the gray steel double doors, checking every student’s ID one by one before allowing them into the building in single file. Inside, Leorio is assigned a seat among rows upon rows of tiny wooden desks under harsh fluorescent lighting. Upon his desk is a test booklet, flipped face-down, with two pencils sitting beside it on the right. Standing at the head of the room, the proctors instruct all the students present not to flip over their exam booklets until they are specifically told to do so. Once everyone is settled and the entrance doors are locked, the proctors walk them through the instructions on how to take the exam with a set of five short example questions.

Then the timer on the digital wall clock officially starts to count down from two hours.

Here goes nothing.

* POV: Gon *

Gon lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper in Killua’s ear. “We’re almost there.”

“Yeah?” Killua whispers back, casting his eyes from side to side around the woods. “We’ve been following the snapped branches along this deer trail for hours. I don’t see anything different.”

“That’s because you can’t smell Pairo and Kurapika!” Gon beams at him.

In response, Killua makes a face and sticks his tongue out at Gon.

All around them, the birds fall eerily silent.

Suddenly, a sort of invisible wall freezes both boys in their tracks. The air thickens into an unpleasant feeling of pure menace. It prickles against Gon’s skin. It raises goosebumps along his arms. It’s harder to even breathe, like walking into a strong gust of wind.

Could Kurapika and Pairo be in trouble!?

Struggling against the heavy atmosphere, Gon grits his teeth and tries to take one shaking step forward.

He can’t.

Then Killua grabs Gon’s wrist in a vice grip, turns tail and runs. Killua is too strong. Gon has no choice but to scramble along after him, matching his pace step for step.

Even though the threatening aura vanishes almost instantly, Killua keeps going at a full sprint for several minutes.

“Killua!” Gon can’t get a single word out of him.

“Killua, wait!” But Gon can’t get him to stop. His eyes are as dead as the day he encountered his big brother during the Hunter Exam. “Killua, you’re scaring me!”

At last, Killua slows down and jogs to a stop. Wide-eyed and trembling, he only begins to relax after listening hard for signs of pursuit but apparently hears none. “Never fight an enemy who is stronger than you,” Killua intones mechanically, all emotion drained from his voice.

Gon grabs him by both shoulders and shakes him. “Killua! Can you hear me? What happened to you!?”

A shudder goes through Killua’s entire body. He shakes his head wildly, then blinks. “I don’t think we should go back there,” Killua mutters darkly, sounding a bit more like himself.

Almost dizzy with relief, Gon crushes Killua into a hug. “Killua! You’re okay!”

Killua’s face goes pink with embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, of course I’m okay, geeze! Get out of my face!” Killua grumbles, making only a token effort to shove Gon away. “Let’s get out of here.”

Frowning, Gon stubbornly keeps clinging to him. “But what about Pairo and Kurapika? I don’t get what’s going on. Do you think they fell into a trap? Last time we talked to them, they sounded perfectly fine over the phone.”

Before Killua can respond, Izunavi’s voice shouts in their direction from the distance. “Hey! You can come back now, it was only a test!” More quietly, he grumbles, “Damn, you kids are fast.”

Kurapika’s voice follows soon afterward. “Gon! Killua! Over here!”

Now Killua looks both embarrassed and annoyed at having been scared out of his wits. Gon manages to tug him toward the sound of Kurapika’s eager voice, but Killua shoves both hands in his pockets and drags his feet the entire way.

Now that he no longer has to shout to be heard, Pairo greets them cheerfully. “Hi! Gon, Killua, meet our teacher Izunavi! Did you know that when we found him for the first time, Izunavi tested us by attacking with two nen projectiles that exploded the trees behind our heads? Good thing we dodged, right!?”

“It was cool!” adds Kurapika.

“Welcome to the humble patch of forest I call home. Both of you have passed the test to become my students, by tracking down my location and by showing promising potential in developing your nen skills.” Izunavi offers his assessment. “Gon, I like your determination in the face of a challenge. Not many people who haven’t already learned nen can hold their ground against a display of hostile aura, let alone attempt to take a step forward. However, acting too rashly can get you killed.”

“As for you, Killua,” Izunavi continues, “you have a good sense of when you are outmatched by your opponent. There’s no shame in a tactical retreat. But keep in mind that there are also situations where escape is not possible, even in the face of someone stronger than you. Both of you showed different approaches. Neither approach is always right or always wrong. Take advantage of the complementary skills of your friends, and learn from each other.”

If anything, Killua looks even more unimpressed, glaring mutely at Izunavi throughout his entire explanation.

Izunavi raises one unconcerned eyebrow in Killua’s direction, as if daring Killua to challenge him.

Killua’s fingernails have turned into claws. His entire body is poised for a fight.

Uh oh. They clearly don’t like each other!

After a long, tense staring contest, Izunavi is the first to break the silence. “Hey. Are we going to have a problem? I’m not going to attack you again, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to kick you out unless you really piss me off. We don’t have to be friends here, but we do have to have a functional working relationship. Show up for lessons on time, do your share of the chores, and then if you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll explain the rules in more detail if you decide to stay. Or, If you disapprove of my teaching methods, you are free to find someone else to mentor you at any time. Is that clear?”

Pairo reaches for Killua’s elbow, frowning. “You don’t have to train with us, Killua,” he echoes his teacher, then adds, “But you’ve come all this way! It would be nice if you could at least visit for a little while before you decide whether you want to stay or leave.” Beside him, Kurapika nods his agreement.

Killua relaxes slightly. Now he just looks stubborn. “I don’t like your aura,” he finally admits to Izunavi.

Izunavi scratches his chin contemplatively. “Is that all? We can fix that. You should be able to withstand my hostile aura as soon as you learn how to counter with your own Ren. There’s just one catch. I need to attack you with my hostile aura from up close to awaken your nen, unless you’d rather wait six months until you can open your own aura nodes. Your choice.”

“I’ll do it,” Killua says through gritted teeth. “Let’s get this over with.”

Gon insists on joining him! “Me too! I’ll be right next to you the whole time, Killua!”

“And what, are you going to offer to hold my hand the entire time?” grumbles Killua.

“If you want!” Gon offers brightly.

Killua covers his face with both hands. “No! This is so embarrassing.”

“I need you kids to focus,” Izunavi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Gon is ready. “Yes, sir!”

Killua shrugs, feigning nonchalance. The way he braces his feet says otherwise.

Izunavi lifts both hands in front of him, one hovering over each of the boys’ shoulders. “As soon as I awaken your nen, concentrate on keeping it from flying away from every part of your body. On the count of three. Three, two, one.”

It’s over in less than a heartbeat. A flash of hostile intent. A burst of energy flooding all of Gon’s limbs. Gon gains mastery over his newly awakened aura within the span of a few breaths, until it shrouds his body like a second skin. It comes to him easily, almost like he has already been doing this his whole life. When he looks up, blinking, he can see the burst of aura settling into a shroud around Killua’s body almost in unison.

Killua grins at him, elated.

Gon grins back.

“Nice!” Kurapika cheers. Both he and Pairo hold up their hands for a round of triumphant fist bumps.

“Congratulations, you’ve mastered Ten. Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep.” Izunavi starts walking back in the direction he came from, without looking back to make sure anyone is following.

* POV: Killua *

Living in the middle of nowhere sucks.

There’s no electricity. No video games. No internet. No lighting, unless he gets stuck on firewood duty or hunts down a beehive to make his own candles. If he wants to charge his cell phone, he has to walk two hours to the Hunter Agency, then suffer through listening to Izunavi’s long, boring conversation catching up with the tattooed lady at the front desk, because there is nothing better to do while waiting for his phone to finish charging.

There’s no plumbing. Sure there’s a fresh stream only a few steps away from Izunavi’s cabin, which makes it easy enough to get a drink, or go for a swim if he travels to the deep part with the big fish. But if he wants a warm bath, then he has to fetch water by the bucket, chop his own firewood, light a fire, and wait for what feels like hours for it to get to a comfortable temperature. He also has to fetch water for the garden, for the kitchen, and for washing his own laundry by hand.

The worst thing about having no electricity and no plumbing is going to the outhouse after dark, where he can barely see, it always smells bad, and if he isn’t looking very carefully on the way there, his next step could be on a snake. Or in a pile of deer poop.

He has to help with keeping the house clean and in good repair, or else he will end up covered in dust and cobwebs, and that pesky leak in the roof will drip on his head while he is trying to sleep, every time it rains. Killua doesn’t like sleeping in the attic, but it was the lesser evil compared to sleeping next to the lovebirds cuddled in the corner of the living room.

Of course Izunavi’s tiny cabin doesn’t have guest beds or pillows or blankets for four students, so Killua has to sleep on the floor, unless he bothers to figure out how to make a slightly more comfortable mat., but that would require way too much effort. He’s used to worse on his training missions. Killua can sleep anywhere, always with one eye open, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Killua has to hunt and forage for his own food, which was fun while he was on Zevil Island when he was enjoying a taste of freedom and friendship. Now that the novelty has worn off, it feels a lot more like being on a job.

He has to figure out which plants in the garden are food and which ones are weeds, pick vegetables and take out the weeds, peel and chop vegetables, try to cook something edible without burning it, try not to lose his patience while stirring a pot for half an hour, then eat the vegetables. Did he mention that there’s no chocolate?

Then Killua has to wash the dishes. Killua has to learn how to make his own soap out of animal fat and ashes.

It’s all so much work, and it takes so much time, and neither Kurapika nor Pairo complain about it, because living in the middle of nowhere is normal for them. He can’t even complain to Gon about it, because Gon loves being in the forest, and he’s having fun learning how to make soap!

And on top of all this, Killua is always exhausted, because Izunavi is a self-important hard ass who makes him keep holding his Ren until he is too tired to complain, then makes him go do chores anyway.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Killua were learning from someone more like Miss Mito or Kurapika’s mom: tough and no-nonsense, but delivered with warmth and love and caring underneath. Izunavi is not a warm and friendly person by nature. Izunavi is all business.

It would feel too much like assassin training, all work and no play, if it weren’t for Killua’s friends.

Gon is always there to whisper to in the middle of the night, or to drag Killua to the edge of the stream to catch frogs. Gon’s presence turns training into a competition, into a game, and into shared suffering to commiserate over in equal parts.

Kurapika helps both Gon and Killua with tips and tricks he picked up from experimenting with his own training, having been exposed to nen a few weeks ahead of everyone else. Between Kurapika and Pairo, they always have an entertaining anecdote up their sleeves about how Kurapika always used to butt heads with the village Elder and how Pairo finally managed to talk him out of it, or about their adventures training in Heavens Arena.

And Pairo’s cooking almost makes up for the lack of chocolate. If Killua isn’t careful, he might actually learn how to cook for himself by the time they get out of here!

* POV: Pairo *

Get the hang of it once, and you never forget. Practicing Ten comes so naturally, it seems like neither Pairo, nor Kurapika, nor Gon, nor Killua really have to practice much at all, except when they are also practicing Ren.

Practicing Ren is exhausting but straightforward, exactly like training a muscle. Pairo can feel each of the four of them getting stronger every day.

Zetsu, on the other hand, is the part that Pairo doesn’t like very much. For much of the day, focusing on erasing his presence acts as a necessary rest period between bursts of Ren. Not that it’s hard to do! It’s just… then everyone else is practicing Zetsu at the same time, and Pairo can’t feel where Izunavi, Gon, Killua, or especially Kurapika are anymore.

This isn’t Lukso Province, where he has explored every nook and cranny since his early childhood. Although Pairo is perfectly capable of navigating even the unfamiliar parts of this forest on his own, feeling his way along the path of tiny deer trails by touch, and listening for the sound of the stream that runs by Izunavi’s cabin, he doesn’t like to go very far alone. It’s slow going. Without a guide, he can’t see well enough to distinguish poison ivy, brambles, rocks, ditches and roots his wheelchair could get stuck on.

Can anyone blame Pairo for trying to cheat his way around with his newfound powers?

When he has to go out foraging on his own, and he’s supposed to be resting up for his next burst of Ren, Pairo starts experimenting with the shape of his aura. Does it still count as practicing Zetsu if he shuts off the aura flow to most of his body, but leaves his aura nodes wide open in his eyes? It isn’t perfect, but it helps a lot. With his normal aura concentrated in his eyes, Pairo can navigate in a new dimension by the silvery outline around every tree, bush and fern in the woods.

And whenever Pairo is feeling just a little bit lonely, he tries to reach out and touch the nearest person with his aura. His aura doesn’t reach very far, not even with Ren. But what if he tries to pinch it as long and skinny as he possibly can, so that he can wave it around like a cane until he can find where Kurapika is?

It’s hard. Changing the shape of his nen seems to be much more of an uphill battle for Pairo than Kurapika made it sound. The best Pairo can manage is a wobbly, lopsided egg that can barely reach a few steps away. Pairo is gasping for breath and sweating bullets by the time he lets his aura shrink back to normal.

Of course, their teacher catches on pretty quickly.

“Hey,” says Izunavi. “You’re getting ahead of me. Did just see you using Gyo?”

What does that mean? Pairo asks for clarification. “By Gyo, do you mean the thing where I use Zetsu on only part of my body, or the thing where I try to feel the presence of someone standing far away from me? Only, I’m not very good at the second one.”

“En, too?” Izunavi sighs. “Alright, go get your friends. I only want to explain this once.”

* POV: Izunavi *

Izunavi has become a glorified babysitter.

Izunavi has become a glorified babysitter for four teenagers (or thereabouts), all crammed into a cabin built for one inhabitant.

Izunavi has become a glorified babysitter for two members of a clan so rare even the rumors have nearly gone extinct, the son of one of the top five nen users on this side of the Mobius Sea, and a Zoldyck, who, on account being subjected to assassin training from birth instead of having a real childhood, is even more poorly socially adjusted than Izunavi, a hermit in the woods. And that’s saying something.

No wonder they’re all learning so quickly, Izunavi can barely keep them busy enough.

Izunavi is not a people person. His peace and tranquility have been disrupted. He feels crowded out of his own home.

Gon tracks mud all over the house; mopping the floors is a constant uphill battle. Killua barely tolerates Izunavi, like a stray cat. Izunavi is casually rude right back at him. Kurapika is too impatient. Pairo keeps learning new techniques before Izunavi has even taught them. And if that wasn’t enough, he has the audacity to critique Izunavi’s garden!

And yet.

Gon, Kurapika and Pairo clearly enjoy being here, far more than any of Izunavi’s other students in the past. Eventually their infectious enthusiasm spreads to Killua. Perhaps, little by little, even to Izunavi himself.

Killua is growing on Izunavi in particular, the little brat. Somehow, when Izunavi isn’t looking, their mutual understanding turns into familiarity, which turns into a kind of camaraderie. Maybe he’ll even miss this kid when it’s time to move on.

Izunavi has a feeling that these four will go far together; farther than Izunavi has ever managed by himself. He allows himself a small measure of pride.

* POV: Pairo *

“Gon, Killua, I have a secret mission for you,” Pairo whispers conspiratorially.

Just outside the front door, Kurapika is animatedly chattering his way through an extended phone call with the whole village.

“What is it!?” Gon whisper-shouts, struggling to keep his voice down in his excitement.

“Think of it like a scavenger hunt,” explains Pairo. “Today is Kurapika’s eighteenth birthday, and I’m going to make him a cake! Only, you know how Izunavi barely keeps anything in his pantry, and we’re supposed to forage most of our food for ourselves. I could use the raspberries from the garden, but other than that, I’m going to need some help finding all the ingredients I need.”

“Now you’re talking.” Pairo can hear a grin in Killua’s voice. “Please tell me this is an excuse to go buy chocolate.”

Pairo hesitates slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to chocolate, but you would have to run all the way over to the Hunter Agency and back in time for our afternoon lessons.” It’s a lot to ask. Just because Killua can cross that distance much faster than an average person on a two hour hike, doesn’t mean that it’s comfortable or convenient.

“For chocolate cake? I’ll do it,” Killua agrees solemnly.

“Then, while you’re already at the grocery store, can you pick up a carton of eggs and a package of sugar or honey?” It’s a shame Izunavi doesn’t keep any beehives, Pairo thinks to himself. Or Pikos, for that matter.

Again, Killua readily agrees. “Sure thing. What about flour?”

“And don’t forget the birthday candles!” Gon interjects.

“Oh yes, candles are important!” Pairo nods his approval. “I was planning on a flourless cake, but I could definitely find a use for flour later if you decide to buy some.”

“So what I’m hearing is, more cake,” Killua muses greedily.

“Or pancakes. Or dumplings,” adds Pairo with equal enthusiasm. Almost six years after first leaving the Kuruta Village, this is exactly the reason why he has never lost his love and appreciation for the humble grocery store.

“What about me?” Gon pipes up, hopping up and down.

Pairo hasn’t forgotten about him! “Gon, can you help me with foraging? If you can find any walnuts for me, that would be wonderful, but if not, then I can made do with acorns. I just need to boil them a lot to get all the bitterness out before I can use them.” It takes so long to make acorns taste edible, but the end result will be worth it.

“Yes, sir!” exclaims Gon, forgetting himself.

Pairo shushes him. “Remember, it’s a secret!”

Then they set to work.

Several hours later, Pairo puts the finishing touches on an acorn layer cake with chocolate cream, a meringue topping, and a crown of raspberries drizzled in chocolate sauce. Then he finally stops shooing Kurapika away from entering the kitchen! “You can look now! Happy birthday, Kurapika!”

Kurapika is so delighted, his eyes turn as red as the raspberries.

* POV: Kurapika *

Kurapika gasps. This cake looks like something straight out of a gourmet magazine, or a TV show, or a fancy restaurant menu. “Oh my god, Pairo! You really went all out! Where did you even find all the ingredients to make this?”

Even Izunavi raises an eyebrow, impressed.

“I bought the chocolate,” Killua answers smugly.

Out of deference for Killua’s sensibilities, Kurapika is not about to tug Pairo into a big, sloppy kiss right in front of him. He does, however, squash Killua into a hug. “Aww, you went all the way into town and back just for me?”

Killua does not take compliments well. Scrunching up his shoulders like a turtle retracting its head into its shell, he grumbles and wriggles his way free from Kurapika’s grasp. “Pfft. You’re not that important. I really wanted chocolate.”

Kurapika lets out a snort of amusement. “Of course you did.” He generously lets Killua take the biggest slice.

Neither a party animal nor in possession of a sweet tooth, Izunavi asks for the smallest slice. Even if he doesn’t say much, Kurapika gives their introverted teacher credit for at least participating instead of hiding away.

“I gathered a million acorns!” Gon adds helpfully.

“Then he helped me shell them,” Pairo confirms.

Acorns. That must have taken the entire day. “How am I supposed to live up to this, Pairo? You didn’t even get a cake for your eighteenth birthday.”

“We were in the middle of the Hunter Exam!” Pairo points out. “That was more than enough excitement for my birthday, don’t you think?”

“I’m not getting eaten by a frog for your birthday again!” Kurapika jokes.

Pairo waggles the cake slicing knife threateningly in Kurapika’s direction. “Yeah, you’d better not!”

“Imagine what it would have been like if we actually had time to celebrate your birthday during the Hunter Exam,” Kurapika muses. “I wonder what Menchi would have said if we had used the spider eagle eggs to make you a cake instead of just boiling them.”

Pairo makes a face, shaking his head. “She would have been horrified! That would have ruined the flavor profile. Spider eagle eggs are too savory for a sweet cake.”

“That does sound like something the hag would say,” Killua snickers.

“Rude, Killua!” Pairo scolds him.

“You know what would make this party even better?” Kurapika barely pauses before answering his own question. “If Leorio were here eating cake with us! But he isn’t, so we’ll just have to settle for the next best thing.”

“Yeah! Let’s call him!” Gon cheers.

Kurapika grins. “Good thing I’ve been saving my phone battery all week for today, right!?”

Kurapika dials Leorio’s number.

Leorio picks up on the first ring.

“Sunshine!” He bellows into the phone, recognizing Kurapika’s phone number. “I’ve been trying to call you all week, but your phone keeps going straight to voicemail! I couldn’t get a hold of Killua either! Tell me what’s going on!”

Without missing a beat, Kurapika puts him on speaker phone, well away from his ears. “Hi Leorio!”

“Hi Leorio!” Gon and Pairo chime in together from the background.

“Hey, old man.” drawls Killua.

“Gon and Killua joined me and Pairo training in a forest with no electricity. Don’t worry about us! We have to keep our phones powered off most of the time, because the nearest place where we can charge our phones is two hours away.” Kurapika reassures Leorio. “But today is special! We’re celebrating my birthday! I knew I had to keep my phone on so Elder Tapikt could call me. I wish you could be here too, eating Pairo’s amazing raspberry meringue cake!”

“Oh wow, happy birthday! Sounds like you guys have been as busy as I have. So you really did find a nen teacher, huh?” Leorio asks.

“Yeah! Our new teacher’s name is Izunavi and he knows a lot!” answers Kurapika. “Did you know that learning nen is a secret second Hunter Exam? That must be one of the reasons Beans said one in five new Hunters lose their licenses within one year!”

“What, really!? I was going to look into it before the first day of fall term, but I’ve been too busy apartment hunting to get started.”

Kurapika gasps. “The first day of fall term!? Does that mean you’ve been accepted?”

“Hell yeah! I aced my entrance exams!” Leorio exclaims with great enthusiasm. “I start York Shin University’s medical program on September 6th!”

A round of congratulations follows. One more reason to celebrate!

“You know what, we could teach you nen!” Kurapika offers. Out of the four of them, he is the farthest ahead by a small margin, since he started learning about nen first. “We would need to finish our basic training with Izunavi before we can leave here, but it would be great if we could visit you and keep practicing nen before you start school.”

Leorio reacts warmly. “Sure, that would be great! But even if you didn’t have anything to teach me, you’re welcome to visit me anytime. I’d love to see you guys again.”

“Damn, I’m a nen master grandpa already?” Izunavi grumbles to himself, without any real heat. “You kids are going to give me whiplash.”

Chapter Text

* POV: Izunavi *

“Hold up, we’re not done yet.” Normally, after the resistance training, Izunavi would let his students disperse into the woods for a break and more foraging. Today, he has other plans. “Five minute break, everyone. Fetch a cup of water and a tea leaf, then gather around me. We’re ready to start Hatsu training.”

“Finally!” exclaims Kurapika, pumping one fist into the air.

After fetching his own cup of water and leaf, Izunavi sits cross legged on the floor as his students reassemble around him, one by one.

“Hatsu is the act of using your nen to apply your will on something or someone,” he explains. “The technique I am about to show you is called water divination. It is the most effective way to determine your nen type. Place the tea leaf so that it is floating on top of your cup of water, then place your hands a short distance away on either side of your cup without touching it. Next, focus your energy into your hands and try to make it pass through the air, through the cup, and into the water, like this.”

Izunavi demonstrates. “Watch what happens to the water.”

“It turned green!” Gon gasps.

Izunavi nods again. “The changing color of the water indicates that my nen type is an Emitter. Emitters specialize in detaching their aura from their body and using it over longer distances. Now, you try.”

As he observes each of his students in turn, Izunavi is surprised to note that between the four of them and himself, all six of the nen types is represented. Huh. What are the odds?

“Gon, do you see how a trickle of water is overflowing from the side of your cup? Your nen type is an Enhancer. Enhancers are best at using their nen to reinforce a part of their body, or a weapon, or to infuse an everyday object with their aura to turn it into a weapon or a tool. You may find it easiest to fight at close range.”

Gon’s eyes brighten as he listens carefully. “Oh! You mean like if I send my aura into my fishing rod? Would that be an Enhancer ability?”

“Yes,” Izunavi confirms. “That is an advanced technique called Shu.”

Gon furrows his eyebrows. “But what if I cast my line to hit someone far away with my nen? Would I need to be an Emitter?”

“You would need to use both Enhancer and Emitter abilities, but since your dominant nen type is an Enhancer, your attacks would be slightly weaker at a longer range. An Enhancer can use Emitter abilities at about 80% of the strength of someone who is mainly an Emitter.”

Izunavi begins to draw a diagram showing the orientation of all six nen types in a circle, carving characters into the dirt with a stick so that Pairo can feel their shape.

But Gon is already lost. As soon as numbers start coming into play, his eyes glaze over with confusion. “Oh…”

“Never mind.” This may take a few tries. Izunavi sighs. “We will start practicing techniques with different nen types later. It’s easier to understand by trying it yourself than by listening to me.”

After Gon, it’s Killua’s turn. Outwardly, nothing has happened. “Mine didn’t do anything,” Killua huffs with disappointment.

“Try tasting the water,” Izunavi instructs him.

Killua tries, skeptical, then his eyebrows shoot upward. “It’s sweet!”

“Your nen type is a Transmuter. Transmuters can change the properties of their aura to behave like something else, like turning your aura into scalding hot steam, for example. To develop a specialized nen ability, start thinking about something you are very familiar with, that you think it might be useful to make your aura into.”

Killua ponders this for a moment. “I think I have an idea.”

Next, Izunavi turns to Pairo. “Pairo, can you see or feel the tea leaf moving on the water?” Izunavi asks.

“Yeah, a little bit!” Pairo answers, concentrating. “It’s easier for me to feel it than to see it.”

“Moving the leaf corresponds to a Manipulator nen type. Manipulators can develop abilities to manipulate objects, people, or other living things,” says Izunavi.

“But I thought you said Kurapika and I are Specialists?” Pairo asks.

“Being a Manipulator does not rule out becoming a Specialist under specific conditions. In fact, among the five more common nen types, Manipulators and Conjurers are the most likely to become Specialists. Which brings me to Kurapika,” Izunavi continues. “Can you see the tiny crystal forming in the bottom of your cup? Your nen type is a Conjurer. Conjurers can use their aura to generate objects out of thin air. In most cases, the objects disappear when the Conjurer is no longer using their aura, but objects can remain in existence under specific conditions. You will need more training before you decide what objects to conjure and how to use them.”

Izunavi will explain Vows and Limitations later. Gon has clearly already had enough information for one day.

Kurapika is curious. “What happens if a Specialist performs water divination?”

Izunavi answers, “something unique happens. The only way to find out is to trigger the condition when I felt your aura changing, then perform water divination again.”

“Well, Pairo, desperate times call for desperate measures,” Kurapika puffs up his chest and announces. “It’s time to play Don’t Laugh.”

* POV: Kurapika *

It turns out it’s really hard to concentrate on directing one’s aura into a cup of water while also suffering from an acute case of the giggles!

Being able to prove that both Kurapika and Pairo are Specialists is one thing, but actually being able to use nen abilities with their emotions running amok is quite another! Maybe it’s better for Kurapika to start with Conjurer abilities and then figure it out later.

Pairo manages before Kurapika, because of course he does.

And then… everything happens all at once? The water overflows from Pairo’s cup in a small trickle, and turns a pale pink, and starts to form a little crystal at the bottom. Pairo’s tea leaf is quivering just as strongly as the first time he attempted water divination.

Now Pairo looks perplexed. “Huh? It feels the same, but different? The leaf moved. I don’t really get what changed.”

“Ooh, that looks so cool!” Kurapika’s giggles are soon replaced by enthusiasm and intrigue. “Taste the water, Pairo! But don’t drink the crystal, it looks spiky! Your water turned a little bit pink, and I saw it spilling over a little bit on my side! It looked like you were using every nen type!”

Pairo lifts the cup to his lips and takes a cautious sip. “Hmm. Tastes a bit like piko berries. But really, really dilute.”

“Let me try again!” When Kurapika directs his aura through the water a second time, the same thing happens as it did to Pairo’s cup. Overflowing water. A tinge of pink. A quivering leaf. A tiny crystal. And yeah – “Huh, tastes a little bit fruity,” Kurapika narrates to Pairo. “I dunno about piko berries though? Let me taste yours, too. I wonder if it’s different.”

They exchange cups. “Yours tastes faintly of strawberries,” Pairo declares.

Kurapika agrees. “You’re right, yours does taste like piko berries!”

“You know what else I noticed?” Kurapika muses. “I’m not sure if this is a coincidence, but the trickle of water from my cup was overflowing on the opposite side of the cup from mine, like a mirror.”

“Weird!” exclaims Pairo. “Let’s both try again at the same time and see what happens!”

Again, the water spills over from their cups on opposite sides. Only this time, it looks like individual water drops are starting to float a little, defying gravity. Almost as if the two opposing streams of water are reaching for each other. Almost as if they are trying to form a tiny bridge.

Killua snorts, sticking his tongue out with distaste. “Ew. Even your nen abilities are love birds.”

* POV: Gon *

Hatsu! That has to be the missing key!

Huddled together with Pairo, Kurapika and Killua in Izunavi’s attic, Gon fishes the mysterious metal box out of his backpack and holds it out for everyone to see. “Hey, Killua! Let’s try to open Ging’s box again!”

Killua gives Gon a light, friendly punch on the shoulder. “Yeah! I’m dying to know what’s inside.”

To avoid interrupting Gon’s experiment, Kurapika whispers a running commentary to Pairo in the dim lighting. But Pairo is also watching keenly, concentrating his aura into his eyes with Gyo.

“Here goes nothing!” Gon announces cheerfully. Holding the box between both hands, he concentrates on pushing his Hatsu through it just like he did with water divination.

Success! The metal fragments into pieces, each one etched with mysterious patterns.

Pairo picks up one of the metal fragments, studying the patterns with both his Gyo and his fingertips. “Gon, you said this was unbreakable without nen, right? I wonder how it was made.”

Inside the box is… a smaller box? But this one has a slot in the side!

As Gon inserts his Hunter license into the slot, the lid pops open to reveal a cassette tape, a ring, and a game cartridge he doesn’t recognize.

“Well, damn it,” Killua tuts. “There’s absolutely no chance Izunavi has a cassette player, let alone an old Joystation. We won’t be able to find out what’s on this memory card until we can buy or borrow a compatible game system.”

“I wonder what this ring is for?” Gon muses. “I hope we can find out from the memory card or the tape recording!”

“What’s a Joystation?” asks Kurapika.

Killua shakes his head. “Pfft. You live under a rock. One day I’m going to crush you at Go Kart Racers, but for that we have to get back into civilization first.”

* POV: Pairo*

The idea comes to him, as it so often does, under cover of darkness.

Light. Shadow. The only things Pairo can reliably distinguish, even with his eyes closed.

Shadows can offer comfort.

Pairo thinks of the tiny cave where he and Kurapika shared so much of their childhood, with its whispered secrets and loud laughter. He thinks of the cool respite beneath the tree leaves in the heat of summer. Further back, before he lost much of his eyesight, Pairo remembers casting shadow puppets on the walls in the flickering light of a candle, mimicking the shape of a flying bird or a piko’s beak with his hands. Further still, the memory blurred with time, he remembers his mother tucking him into bed every night, leaning over him to place a kiss on his forehead instead of letting Pairo persuade her into telling just one more bedtime story, or singing just one more lullaby. He remembers being so, so small.

Shadows can inspire terror.

Shadows can hide hooting owls and howling wolves, and other predators that are all the more dangerous for their silence. Or other aspiring Hunters, after one’s ID badge. Or, when necessary, Pairo himself.

Shadows can hide all sorts of dangers that Pairo is unable to see. Rocks, pits, and roots that can ensnare his wheelchair. Hallways bristling with booby traps and sudden drops. Cliff faces and ravines.

In the immediate aftermath of his fall, Pairo remembers the long, agonizing wait while the whole world drowned in a whirlpool of scarlet tears. The only thing that got him through the disorientation and the sharp, unbearable pain of two broken legs was clinging to the hope that Kurapika would come back. And he did. Thank goodness, he did.

For days after his injuries, Pairo would wake up in his own bed and not recognize where he was. For months, Pairo remembers the slow, frustrating process of learning how to navigate his small world without the use of his legs or his eyes.

Since then, he has come to rely so much on his hearing and his touch, it inspires a jolt of fear when these, too, are taken away. Pairo remembers the first time he visited the doctor in Nancha City. He remembers how much he hated the MRI machine: a cold, roaring tunnel of pitch black where he wasn’t allowed to move. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear Elder Tapikt. He couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat. He couldn’t hear Kurapika.

Pairo shudders once, pulls Kurapika more tightly against him, and breathes in the smell of his hair. Kurapika stirs slightly in his sleep, grumbling an indistinct complaint.

Yes, Pairo thinks as he gently relaxes his hold. The darkness doesn’t have to be cold, if Pairo wills it so. In the hush of Izunavi’s living room, in the dead of night, Pairo imagines the darkness surrounding them as a dense blanket, as warm as the sun on the river bank, and as soft as moss under bare feet. He reaches for a small corner of it with his aura to breathe it into life. Then he cocoons Kurapika in his blanket, bundling himself in along with it.

Kurapika burrows closer and falls back asleep.

* POV: Kurapika *

“Dino Hunter,” Kurapika announces firmly. “That’s what my mind keeps going back to.”

Izunavi blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

“For my Conjurer ability. You said I have to pick something I’m really familiar with, right?” clarifies Kurapika. “I know this book from front to back. I have every word and every illustration memorized. I’ve been reading it over and over again for six, maybe even seven years now. This book was a big part of the reason I decided to become a Hunter in the first place.”

“That should work,” Izunavi drawls out hesitantly, “but there are two major considerations you need to have in mind. First, have you decided what you want to do with it? Paper is not inherently a strong material. It can cut, yes, but any child can tear it into shreds. If you ever intend to use a conjured book as your primary means of combat and defense, you will need to come up with vows and limitations to reinforce your nen beyond the limits of ordinary paper.”

Kurapika nods. “I’m still coming up with ideas, but I have thought about what I want to do with it, yes. In a fight, I could use my book as a shield, a blunt force weapon, or a sharp edge. Outside of battle, I want to use the pages of my conjured book to take notes and send messages by making specific words appear, disappear, and rearrange themselves. If I can conjure pages that read themselves when touched, Pairo won’t have to rely on his eyes. Even if our phones aren’t working. Even if we somehow become separated. In an emergency, I want the pages of my conjured book to be strong enough to wrap around someone to lift and carry them to safety. And I know this is a stretch, since it’s an Enhancer ability and I would need to have scarlet eyes to be able to use it at full strength, but I also want to be able to use the pages of my book as bandages and speed up healing injuries.”

Kurapika never wants to find himself helpless at the top of a cliff again, watching Pairo bleeding out on the rocks.

He steadily meets Izunavi’s impassive gaze. “Do you think I can pull it off?”

“Only if you don’t try to do too much all at once,” answers Izunavi. “Focus on developing and refining one ability at a time. To begin with, it sounds like you need to be able to conjure a book that can disassemble into individual pages. Which brings me to my second consideration. In order to conjure your book, you not only have to know what it looks like and which words are on every page. You also have to learn what it tastes like, sounds like, and what the weight and texture feels like in your hands. You need to be willing to tear out every page and endure the sound of your favorite book shredding. Are you willing to do that to your favorite book?”

Kurapika blanches. “Can’t I tear out the pages of a cheap paperback instead?”

“Do you want to conjure a cheap paperback that you have no emotional connection to, and that you haven’t memorized?” Izunavi counters. “It will make your conjured book much weaker.”

Kurapika has a photographic memory, and can recall every page of every book he has ever read, but Izunavi makes a good point. “What if I copy out Dino Hunter in its entirety by hand, including the illustrations, and then tear the pages out of the copy?”

“That should be an acceptable substitute. Learning how to bind and repair your own books, and writing and drawing the contents of each page will be an essential part of your Conjurer training.”

“Do I have to learn how to make my own paper?” asks Kurapika. It sure sounds like a lot of work.

“Considering the nature of vows and limitations, if you write and illustrate your copy of Dino Hunter using paper and ink you made from scratch, it will considerably increase the power of your conjured book,” Izunavi confirms.

Really!? Wow! How far down does the rabbit hole go?

Kurapika will do it. Kurapika will copy every page until his hand cramps. It might take him a couple months to finish the entire book!

* POV: Izunavi *

Since learning about Hatsu, Izunavi’s students are working harder than ever.

Over the course of several weeks, the crystal at the bottom of Kurapika’s cup grows larger and larger, until its individual spikes bristle over the top of the cup. As he laboriously learns the process to recreate his favorite book from nothing but the materials available in the forest, he leans how to conjure a blank page, then various colors of ink, then a leather cover and thread for binding. He embroiders his own initials into the inside cover. By the time he can conjure several entire pages all at once, Izunavi can no longer tell whether they have been created from natural materials or nen without using Gyo.

The trickle over the side of Gon’s cup strengthens into a gushing waterfall. He practices hitting moving targets out of the air over and over again with his Shu infused fishing lure, until he can knock one of Izunavi’s acorns out of the sky in mid flight. At close range, Gon can use his fishing rod to slice through entire trees like butter, or even to explode them into nothing more than a pile of wood chips. Izunavi has to curb his enthusiasm for splitting firewood, lest he accidentally shatter the entire house.

The water in Killua’s cup transforms into a thick syrup that’s sweeter than honey. He can use his aura to call down the very thunder from the sky. Or, if he is feeling playful, to zap all of his friends and make their hair float into gravity defying spheres like human dandelions. Eventually Izunavi caves and let his students peer pressure him into a new static-y hairdo. Once.

Pairo’s leaf glides around the surface of his cup with ease. Starting with the shadow beneath his own feet and slowly branching out to every other shadow within range of his gradually expanding En, Pairo can make each shadow grow darker or fade, grow bigger or smaller, and begin to take on curious shapes. A beanstalk twines its way up Pairo’s right leg, winds around his arm, and finally curls to a rest at his fingertips. The entire plant is pitch black.

“Izunavi, we have to leave tomorrow,” Pairo announces in early June. “We promised Leorio we would teach him before his classes start, and I still have some unfinished business I need to attend to at Heavens Arena.”

Already? But he still has so much to teach them!

This moment seemed to come in the blink of an eye. Izunavi knew it was coming, but he will need to hide away the fact that he didn’t feel ready for it away in the back of his mind to examine later.

Out loud, Izunavi replies in a measured tone. “I understand. In that case, let me leave you with a few pointers to prepare you for your next fight before you go. You may call me for advice anytime you need to, but it won’t be as effective as being able to show you in person.”

The next day, as they are preparing the leave, Pairo and Kurapika politely thank Izunavi for being their teacher. Gon gives him a surprise hug that leaves Izunavi reeling.

Then while Izunavi is off kilter, Killua zaps him out of it, that cheeky rascal.

To add insult to injury, Killua can outrun Izunavi’s acorn bullets now!

* POV: Rei *

Well, well, well. If it isn’t Rei’s favorite visitor. Alone, this time, for the first time in months. “Hey, Mizu. No newbies today? Is that what’s got you down in the dumps?”

“I’m perfectly happy,” Izunavi grunts peevishly with his arms folded defensively across his chest. “I finally have my house back to myself. No more tripping over each other. No more muddy footprints. No more sass. No more rapid fire questions.”

Happy? With that tone of voice!? Rei wasn’t born yesterday!

Sure he has a tendency to be stern, serious, and uptight most days, but this time he’s obviously worse than usual. Izunavi is holding his shoulders a little too stiffly. His frown is just a little deeper now than it is at rest. His hair is a little bit longer and wilder than the last time she saw him, and his scruffy stubble is a little bit out of control. His eyes look weary.

“Sure, buddy. You aren’t fooling anyone.” She claps him on the shoulder and grins. “You came here to visit me because you’re lonely, didn’t you?”

Pulling up a chair, Izunavi slumps down with his arms folded on Rei’s desk. “I can hear the birds singing again,” Izunavi sighs in defeat.

Rei waits expectantly. He doesn’t sound like he’s done talking. Sometimes with Izunavi, you just have to wait until he fills the silence on his own.

Soon enough, Rei’s patience is rewarded.

“It isn’t the same,” Izunavi eventually continues. “Do you know what Gon did the first time he heard me singing while I was repairing the fence?”

Rei hums a note of inquiry to show that she’s still listening.

Once again, Izunavi picks up after a pause. “He wouldn’t let me stop. He pestered me to keep going until he could join in with great enthusiasm, perfectly off key. It was pretty hard to feel self conscious after that.”

That’s adorable. Rei rarely gets to see Izunavi’s artistic side. “How about the others, were they any good at singing?”

Izunavi nods, slightly shy even with an old friend. “Pairo has a good ear for harmony. Kurapika needed a little encouragement and wouldn’t sing on his own. Killua was too shy.”

“So you miss having an audience, huh?” Rei gets up out of her chair, using her momentum to pluck Izunavi up out of his seat along with her. “Come on, you stick in the mud, let’s go grab a drink at the karaoke bar.”

Izunavi relents with only a token protest.

* POV: Leorio *

“Hey old man, can we borrow your TV?” Killua asks without preamble, already squeezing past him into Leorio’s apartment before Leorio has even finished opening the door.

“What the hell is this?” Leorio complains, staring after Killua and the old game console he is carrying under one arm, its power cord and adapter cables dragging along behind him on Leorio’s parquet floor. With his free hand, Leorio distractedly ushers the rest of his guests inside, then locks the door behind them. “Would it kill you to say ‘Hello Mr. Leorio, thank you for inviting us into your home’ before you start asking me for favors I’m really not up to speed on!?”

Pairo doesn’t miss a beat. “Hello Mr. Leorio, thank you for inviting us into your home!” he quips with such sincerity, Leorio almost can’t tell that he’s joking.

“Long time no see,” Kurapika offers a warm greeting. His eyes glint with mischief as they flick to Killua and back. Quickly, while Killua isn’t looking, Kurapika sneaks Leorio a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi Leorio!” Gon files in after Kurapika, carrying a radio under his arm. He explains what’s going on in a whirlwind of excitement. “Guess what was inside Ging’s box when we finally opened it with Hatsu! A ring, a game cartridge, and a cassette tape! Only, we didn’t have a Joystation or a cassette player or anywhere to plug them in at Izunavi’s house, so we had to wait until we came here to find out what’s on them.”

Unfortunately, Leorio is still lost. “Hatsu? Is that a nen thing? Give me a break, I’m still learning how to open my aura nodes!”

Killua rolls his eyes. “Pfft. It’s been three months and you don’t even know Ten? You’re way behind.”

“Not everyone learns Ten the dangerous way,” Pairo reminds Killua mildly.

“Do you want us to teach you the dangerous way?” Kurapika asks with a manic grin, fluttering his eyelashes at Leorio. “It’s much quicker,” he adds in a stage whisper.

Leorio eyes him warily. “You’re not going to be able to teach me anything otherwise, are you?”

“Not any better than I can explain it over the phone,” Kurapika answers seriously. “And you won’t be able to see what I’m doing either, until the aura nodes are open in your eyes.”

On the one hand, Leorio considers, it would be really useful to save time learning Ten so that he can cram as much nen knowledge into his head as possible before his classes start. But on the other hand- “Can you tell me what exactly is dangerous about the dangerous way, since you seemed to learn Ten just fine? Other than getting attacked by Kalluto, I mean.”

“Your aura is your life force. Before your aura nodes are awakened, it leaks out of you constantly a little bit at a time. But if I force your aura nodes open all at once, then all your energy will start rushing out of you like a tea kettle. Izunavi said that if you can’t figure out how to shut off the flow on your own quickly enough, you could collapse from exhaustion, suffer permanent injuries, or even die,” explains Kurapika. “Killua, Gon, Pairo and I all seemed to have a knack for it, so that didn’t happen to us. You’ve been practicing meditation since April, right? If on average it takes six months to learn how to control your aura nodes with meditation, I figure that ought to reduce your risk by half compared to someone who hasn’t been practicing at all.”

“Maybe later,” Leorio decides, shaking his head. “I definitely can’t concentrate with Gon and Killua running circles around me. Let’s go see what they’re up to.”

He strides over to where the adolescents in question are sitting together on the living room floor, popping Gon’s cassette tape into the left hand slot on their radio. “So your dad left you a recording, huh?”

Gon nods, then presses play. The longer Leorio listens, the more his mouth stretches into a frown. Some dad that Ging guy is!

But Gon is all the more determined to find him, to prove his worth. How can Leorio possibly convince him that he’s already worth it, and he doesn’t have to prove anything!?

* POV: Pairo *

After parking his wheelchair by Leorio’s desk in the living room, Pairo gets up and carefully feels his way around the apartment, acclimatizing himself to the new layout. Behind the desk, Pairo’s touch meets the cool glass of a tall window overlooking a bright, blurry slice of sky. Following along the walls, he comes to a stop when his hands reach a bookshelf that goes from his feet all the way up as high as Pairo can reach! The shelves are stacked with rows and rows of thick hardcovers. Some of the titles stand out in enough depth for Pairo to feel with his fingertips, featuring subjects like molecular biology, rare diseases, an encyclopedia of common medications, and a manual on how to use the first aid equipment in an ambulance. “Ooh, are these all textbooks?”

Leorio sounds pleased to be asked, with pride shining through in his voice. “Yeah, I’ve been buying as many as I can secondhand for a few years now. I didn’t realize how big my collection had grown until I had to move them all! Boxes and boxes full of nothing but books.”

“So, where are you hiding the dirty magazines?” Kurapika teases. “I haven’t forgotten what you were reading on the day we first met.”

“Probably under his bed,” snickers Killua.

“Hey, I can’t be studying all the time!” Leorio objects.

Beyond the bookshelf, there’s a small hallway that turns off toward Leorio’s mostly unadorned bedroom, a bathroom just big enough to house a tub and a shower, Leorio’s front door, and an open doorway leading to the kitchen.

Pairo is decidedly less impressed with Leorio’s kitchen than his library. There isn’t a whole lot of cabinet space, and its contents are barely populated beyond a set of mismatched bowls, plates and cutlery. There are cans of what could be beans, or vegetables, or spaghetti – Pairo can’t really tell without opening it and smelling the contents, or Kurapika reading the label for him. On the counter, there is a microwave, a toaster, and a loaf of soft bread. There is a stove with numbered dials and slightly lopsided electric heating coils. Leorio’s fridge appears to be full of frozen dinners, leftover takeout containers, and bottles of beer.

Well, it’s still better than the complete lack of kitchen facilities in Kurapika and Pairo’s respective hotel rooms at Heavens Arena. Pairo had to rent space in the commercial kitchen of one of the restaurants on their floor during their off hours whenever he wanted to make anything more ambitious than he could pull off with a pressure cooker and a single hot plate.

“Leorio, what were your dinner plans for us this evening?” Pairo shakes his head with disapproval. “Pika can teach you nen, but I’m going to teach you how to cook.”

“Yeah. Uh. About that. I’m ordering pizza,” Leorio answers sheepishly.

“Then we need to go out and buy you some pots and pans.” Pairo doesn’t mind pizza once, but not every single day until September!

* POV: Killua *

“What a boring apartment. Nothing but textbooks from floor to ceiling. I can’t believe the old man doesn’t have a TV.” Killua shakes his head as he rummages around for the slots matching the red, yellow, and white adapter cables for the Joystation. “Good thing hotels always have them.”

Behind him, Gon is laying on his stomach on one of the queen beds, kicking his feet up into the air. “I didn’t think Leorio’s apartment is boring! He’s up really high, and he has a really good view of the tall buildings touching the sky! And there’s a nice park only a five minute walk away, with a million dogs to pet. And it was fun talking to him and ordering pizza.”

Okay fine. Maybe Killua will quietly admit to himself, in the privacy of his own mind, that he may have missed the old man a little. “It’s just annoying that we have to go to three different places. We still have to go buy the game after we figure out which one it is.”

Gon’s kicking stills. “Buying a game should be easy, right? Definitely way easier than the Hunter Exam.”

“Yeah, I guess. Even if it’s really rare, all we have to do is to find out who is selling it and make enough money to buy it.” Killua inserts the memory card, then turns on the Joystation and the TV screen. “Greed Island. Huh. Never heard of it.”

Killua could look it up on the internet, but the libraries are all closed at this hour and he doesn’t really feel like leaving their hotel room to go find an Internet Cafe. Time to give Millu-nii a phone call instead. “Yo, Piggy, ever heard of a Joystation game called Greed Island?”

An entire rant follows about a Hunter-only game with only 100 copies in existence, and how Milluki keeps getting outbid on every auction. Speaking of which, supposedly a few copies are about to be sold at the Southernpiece Auction this September at a minimum bid price of 8 billion jenny. Well damn! That’s a lot of money, even for a Zoldyck ex-assassin! Time to come up with a scheme to get rich quick.

And maybe a backup plan.

* POV: Leorio *

After a happy, boisterous reunion, Gon and Killua have left for the evening. Pairo and Kurapika are staying over in Leorio’s one bedroom apartment. It’s going to be a tight squeeze, but judging by the glint in Kurapika’s eye, he really doesn’t seem to mind.

“Now we can greet you properly,” Kurapika purrs, crowding into Leorio’s space until the backs of his knees knock against his bed frame. “Too bad we missed your birthday. Surely there must be some way to make up for it.”

Slightly off balance, Leorio bounces a little as he half sits, half falls onto his mattress. Kurapika follows.

Suddenly Leorio really doesn’t mind the tight squeeze either. A lap full of Kurapika! Boy, he didn’t realize how much he missed that too!

“Kurapika,” Pairo scolds from the doorway, shaking his head. “Have you already forgotten that we promised to teach Leorio nen?”

“Of course not! We have months to teach Leorio. It can wait until morning.” Kurapika retorts, grinning.

“Good point.” Leorio nods sagely. “Clearly I still need to get the distraction out of my system.”

“Are you protesting for real or did you think I was going to kiss Leorio senseless without you?” Kurapika teases Pairo.

“You’re such a menace,” Pairo giggles as he invites himself into the room.

Hell, yeah! Now Leorio has a lap full of two Kurutas.

* Time skip *

Kurapika is a heavy sleeper. But nothing, as Leorio is rapidly discovering, wakes him up as effectively as the smell of the best breakfast Leorio has ever made in his life. Pairo is teaching Leorio how to turn the sad, cheap soft bread on his counter into something magical: French toast. Definitely not a Kuruta recipe, but hey, it’s what they had the ingredients for without having to go grocery shopping. They’ll have to use honey or maybe some leftover strawberry jam instead of maple syrup, but Pairo is nothing if not adaptable.

It’s not even that hard! See, the trick is to coat both sides in egg, but not to leave it to soak for so long that it gets soggy and falls apart. After that, all Leorio has to do is watch the pan like a hawk to make sure the oil doesn’t get so hot it starts burning, and the toast doesn’t burn to a blackened crisp.

Kurapika drifts airily into the kitchen in his under robes, with his hair a total mess and his eyes still half closed. “Do I smell cinnamon?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!” Leorio’s chest swells with pride.

“And it doesn’t even smell burnt,” adds Pairo, patting Leorio on the shoulder with approval. “I have yet to decide whether you’ll rise above sous chef level, but you’re off to a good start. Let’s eat! You’re going to need your energy for nen training.”

After breakfast, when Kurapika is freshly showered and dressed, activating Leorio’s nen turns out to be almost anticlimactic. Kurapika doesn’t even touch him; he just holds his hands out in the air, pushes some kind of weird energy in Leorio’s direction, and before Leorio knows it, Kurapika and Pairo are glowing like a pair of white candles. Leorio flexes both his hands and feels his own aura surrounding him like flowing liquid.

Wait, that’s it?

“Shit, was it this easy the entire time?” complains Leorio after mastering Ten in a matter of seconds. “No wonder Killua thinks I’m a total loser!”

Kurapika waves one hand dismissively, but with a smile on his face. “Killua thinks almost everyone is a loser. Don’t worry about it.”

“Or it could have been that easy because of all the practice you’ve already been doing,” Pairo points out. “There’s a whole lot more to it than Ten, but you’ll catch up!”

Turns out Pairo isn’t kidding.

All in one morning, Kurapika info dumps a textbook worth of information and demonstrations and diagrams on Leorio, about Ren, Zetsu, Hatsu, Gyo, En, In, Shu, and the six different types of nen abilities, until Leorio can feel all of the knowledge leaking out of his ears.

Mercifully, they’re all meeting up at Gon and Killua’s hotel in the afternoon to see if Gon and Killua have managed to find out any more about the mysterious game cartridge.

“Let’s take my new car for a spin!” Leorio is eager to show off the very first car he could afford with his own money. It isn’t new. It isn’t a fancy sports car. It’s only a mid-sized black sedan with just enough room for his long legs, which he haggled down to the best bargain he could possibly make. Would it be more practical to take the York Shin subway and not have to pay a fortune for parking? Yes. But Leorio is making his way up in the world and he’s proud of it, damn it. “Well, not new, new. But new to me.”

Kurapika gasps with a suitable level of appreciation. “You can drive! Teach me how!”

Leading the way down to the underground parking garage, Leorio affectionately pats the roof of his car before unlocking the door. “Only if you’re gentle with her! I don’t want my baby covered in dents and scratches!”

“You don’t trust me,” Kurapika pouts.

Leorio raises an eyebrow at him. “Sunshine. I’ve seen the way you race a piko.”

“I wouldn’t trust him either,” Pairo snickers as he folds up his wheelchair and carefully places it in the trunk.

Kurapika sighs. “Okay, okay, I promise I’ll be careful.”

* Time Skip *

A short ride later, Gon eagerly meets them at the front desk to let them use the elevator with his key card.

Killua greets them at their hotel room door. “Yo. Hey old man, have you finally learned Ten yet?”

In response, Leorio flares his freshly minted Ren and flips Killua off.

“Oh boy, that means we all get to show him our nen powers now!” Gon cheers, jumping up and down with excitement. “Kurapika, Pairo, did you already show him? I want to see your powers! Hey Leorio, did you know I can make things explode!?”

Leorio holds up both hands in a placating gesture. “Easy there. How about let’s not explode anything indoors?”

Gon sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “You’re right. I need a lot of space to show off. But I’m even better at hitting moving targets with my fishing rod now!”

“Maybe you can try it out in a real fight if you come to Heavens Arena with us,” offers Pairo.

“Yeah!” Gon brightens.

“But not against Hisoka,” Kurapika warns Gon.

Meanwhile, Leorio doesn’t trust the narrow-eyed considering look Killua is giving him. “Your hair is too short. Boring,” Killua declares.

Leorio furrows his eyebrows, confused. “Huh? Too short for what?”

“This.” As Killua activates his Hatsu, his already fluffy head of hair stands completely on end. With a smug smile, he shows off a small arc of lightning playing between his thumb and forefinger. “My nen is the most useful. I can charge my phone with it.”

Then Killua pokes Leorio in the arm and jolts him with static electricity.

“Ow, fuck! What was that for?” Leorio curses.

“It’s a sign of affection,” Kurapika stage whispers behind his hand. When Killua scowls and tries to zap Kurapika too, Kurapika neatly blocks his poking finger with a book that materializes, hovering, out of thin air. Then they both stick their tongues out at each other.

“What good is a magic floating book, anyway?” Killua needles Kurapika.

In the blink of an eye, Kurapika’s book disintegrates into a flurry of flying pages. Caught by surprise, Killua isn’t fast enough to escape from being wrapped up from head to toe like a wriggling mummy, shouting muffled protests as he struggles to escape.

Finally, Kurapika unravels his book pages from around Killua, setting him down gently on the ground. Then the book disappears back into nothing, pages, cover and all. “The moral of this story is, be careful what you ask for,” Kurapika preaches at Killua with a smug smile. Killua really does zap him this time. “Ow! Fine, we’re even.”

Pairo, the only mature and serious adult in this hallway, has been patiently waiting throughout this exchange. “My turn,” he intones with an air of mystery, then begins wheeling down the hallway.

Now Leorio is curious as everyone turns to follow in Pairo’s wake. Gon, Killua, and Kurapika’s powers are all so different from each other. What could Pairo have up his sleeve?

At the end of the hallway, Pairo encounters an obstacle: a non-powered door labeled Staircase A.

Leorio doesn’t know whether he ought to stop Pairo or open the door for him. “Hey, you know that leads to a staircase, right?”

Far from being deterred, Pairo concentrates Gyo in his eyes so he can look Leorio dead in the eye for one dramatic moment. Then a pitch black beanstalk climbs up from the shadow underneath Pairo’s wheelchair, coils around the door handle, and pushes it open. Pairo wheels his way through the doorway.

The shadow beanstalk retreats. A small, dense army of coiling black ferns takes its place. Carried onward by wave upon wave of black ferns like royalty, wheelchair and all, Pairo crowd surfs his way down the stairs. By the time he makes it back to the top, Pairo is cackling like a fiend.

“Ha ha ha! It actually worked! Pika, look! Victory is mine! First, the stairs, then Hisoka, then the world!”

“Oh no!” Kurapika giggles. “Who will save us from my hot evil boyfriend?”

Not Killua, that’s for sure. He flees at the slightest hint of romance, rolling his eyes.

* POV: Kurapika *

“Any news?” asks Kurapika once everyone has settled on the various overstuffed chairs inside Gon and Killua’s shared room. “Did you find out what was on that game card?”

Gon nods. “Yeah! It’s from a game made for Hunters called Greed Island. Only a hundred copies exist in the whole world!”

“Obviously it isn’t that easy to get our hands on a copy,” adds Killua. “We have to wait until they go on sale at the Southernpiece Auction. In the mean time, we’re doing some digging on who is buying and selling them. Also, since we bought this old Joystation anyway, I figured I might as well get some games to go with it. Who wants to play Go Kart Racers?”

There are two problems with plan. First of all, there are only four controllers, so they’ll have to take turns. And second, how is Pairo meant to play? Can anyone even make it through one full lap around the track without being able to see where the track is?

Clearly, the only way to make it fair is for everyone to play blindfolded. Eventually they make it work by changing to the easiest game settings that add guard rails around the tracks, and entrusting whoever isn’t playing with shouting out who’s going the wrong way. It’s silly. It’s awkward. It’s total chaos.

Honestly, Kurapika doesn’t care who wins. As long as Pairo is still laughing, Kurapika feels a warm glow in his chest.

Chapter Text

* POV: Leorio *

Pairo and Kurapika spend most of the summer at Leorio’s apartment, training in nen together, while Killua and Gon return to the Hunter Agency to make as much money as they can from short, odd Hunter jobs before the auction. Co-opted into Pairo’s sous-chef, Leorio picks up a few simple recipes in between practicing Ren and Zetsu and figuring out that his nen type is Emission, just like Kurapika and Pairo’s teacher. Kurapika memorizes the book of road signs and gets his driver’s permit. Now he needs to practice before he takes his driving test.

Just as Leorio suspected, Kurapika has a strong inclination to drive like a bat out of hell. Although the York Shin police probably aren’t daring enough to issue a ticket to a licensed Hunter, especially in a city rife with mafia connections, it’s still horribly reckless. Fortunately, Leorio figures out three effective strategies to curb Kurapika’s impatience and enthusiasm for high speed.

First: tell him to imagine that he’s passive-aggressively trying to shake off a tailgater. This entertains Kurapika enough that it gets him much closer to the speed limit.

Second: take Kurapika to a dealership and let him test drive a motorcycle. Kurapika comes back scarlet-eyed and exhilarated. Pairo comes back scarlet-eyed and with his teeth clenched, and refuses to ride with Kurapika ever again. From then on, every time Pairo is sitting in the back seat, the threat of being given the cold shoulder makes Kurapika fall in line every time.

Third: find a healthy outlet for Kurapika’s thrill seeking. Take go karts for instance, where Kurapika is encouraged to race as fast as he can handle around the tight corners. Or bumper cars at the local amusement park. Or roller coasters. Pairo, utterly disinterested, shoos them away, and tells them to go have fun without him. Left to his own devices, Pairo putters around the apartment baking, or listening to music or audio books, or taking a long, hot, uninterrupted bath.

By the time August rolls around, Kurapika passes his driver’s test flawlessly. He is almost as proud of it as he is of his Hunter’s License.

All too soon, it’s time for Pairo to return to Heavens Arena, where Pairo and Kurapika have been keeping their place on the 200th floor by registering for fights over the phone and losing by default. First, Pairo has to win against a low ranking fighter with nen. Then, on to Hisoka.

Gon and Killua will join them there, testing out their own skills on the 200th floor.

What if they get hurt? Leorio isn’t sure he wants to watch. As he stays behind, practicing nen on his own, Leorio can only hope that all four of his friends will all make it back to York Shin in one piece.

* POV: Riehlvelt *

Heh. Fresh blood.

Riehlvelt spies a blond, a brunette, and two kids. Feels like they all know nen, although the one in a wheelchair is the only one who seems to have been visibly injured in the process. Gossiping in a low whisper, Riehlvelt describes the newcomers to Sadaso, who hasn’t been able to see very well ever since his initiation.

Before Riehlvelt, Sadaso, and Gido can begin to argue over who to pick on first, the rookie with brown hair wheels right up to them with a smile, holding his hand out expectantly. “Hi! My name is Pairo! Are you here to register for your next fight too?”

Pouncing on this opportunity, Riehlvelt is the first to give Pairo a firm handshake. “We sure are. Eager to get started, huh? I’m free tomorrow, if you want to fight against me. All you have to do is talk to the lady at the registration counter and sign your name right here next to mine on my entry form.”

“Sure, tomorrow works for me,” Pairo answers easily. Pairo isn’t showing any signs of nervousness… yet. But just like Sadaso, the newcomer doesn’t quite manage to look Riehlvelt in the eye when he’s talking. It can’t be an accident when Pairo’s hand brushes against Riehlvelt’s pointing finger, seeking out where to sign on the page. Riehlvelt has a good feeling about this fight.

“I’m Riehlvelt, by the way,” Riehlvelt introduces himself almost as an afterthought, only because his opponent introduced himself first. “And these are my friends-” for lack of a better term for his cutthroat business associates- “Gido and Sadaso.”

Pairo shakes their hands too. “I’m really pleased to meet someone like me all the way up on the 200th floor! I hope we can all be friends!”

What an idealistic sucker. Riehlvelt is going to crush his dreams.

Or so Riehlvelt thought.

The next day, things… don’t exactly go to plan.

Riehlvelt’s fight against Pairo is a total disaster. Pairo is much faster than he looks, nimbly maneuvering his wheelchair out of punching range on an undulating sea of shadows. Even with his aura propulsion, Riehlvelt can’t keep up. Forced to switch tactics early on in the match, Riehlvelt whips his Twin Snakes around him in a frenzy of defense and offense. He needs to end this quickly. One lash of high voltage power, and it will all be over!

Neither of his whips connect. If anything, Pairo seems to be mimicking him, the coiling vines of his shadows rising like a second pair of whips to parry every strike. Pairo fights with his eyes closed as his aura pours out of him like a dark waterfall. His shadow is expanding all around him, creeping across the ring like an oil spill, advancing and advancing until there is nowhere left to run.

Riehlvelt’s power chair is snagged in a tangle of bean stalks. This is the end. Riehlvelt can’t bear to watch. At any second, he could be torn limb from limb, his power chair shattered into scrap metal.

Instead, the vines lift him up and gently deposit him out of bounds. Riehlvelt is completely uninjured and utterly humiliated.

* POV: Gido *

Gido was going to pick the spiky haired kid, but Sadaso got to him first. Maybe it’s a good thing, after Riehlvelt already lost so easily after underestimating his target. So Gido is satisfied enough with the prospect of hanging back and watching Sadaso’s match as a spectator. He will watch and learn, and then if the kid loses against Sadaso, Gido can sign up to fight him later.

In the mean time Gido signs up to fight against the other kid, Killua Zoldyck. Assassin or not, how hard could it be?

A grave miscalculation. It’s worse than fighting against Riehlvelt’s high voltage snakes. All Killua has to do to knock Gido out within seconds is to electrically charge the ground beneath Gido as he spins. Gido’s metal peg leg is an excellent conductor.

Gido has to try again. Out of the latest batch of rookies, that leaves Kurapika, who has been working his way up the floors of Heavens Arena since he was twelve. He looks carefree, maybe even soft, but looks can be deceiving. What gives Gido more confidence is the pair of sheathed bokken Kurapika carries with him. With swords as his primary weapon, there’s a strong chance he is an enhancer, which would make him badly matched against Gido’s ranged attacks. With a flourish of his pen, Gido signs up to fight.

Now or never. Just like Riehlvelt, Gido doesn’t give his opponent any more time to get stronger and learn about his abilities ahead of the fight.

As Kurapika takes his place across from Gido in the ring, the bokken are nowhere in sight. Is he planning to use his bare fists? Even better! He won’t be able to land a hit when Gido is spinning at top speed!

The referee starts the fight. Gido is a whirling dervish, with his tops flying across the arena like cannon fire. Right from the beginning, Gido has Kurapika stepping to his tune, ducking and weaving to avoid being struck. It’s only a matter of time before Gido’s tops shatter all of his bones! “That’s right!” Gido shouts, gloating. “Dance for me! Dance until you die!”

“Dancing? Come to think of it, you’re right.” Kurapika ponders aloud. “Like jumping sticks. I haven’t played that game in years. Let me see if I still remember how the song goes.”

Is Kurapika making fun of him!?

Reciting a rhyme in a language Gido doesn’t understand, Kurapika hops gracefully from one foot to the other as the tops whistle narrowly past his ears. Kurapika can predict their flight path. He has memorized Gido’s simple attack pattern. He is getting too close!

Gido switches tactics, recalling all of his tops to launch them at Kurapika in a rapid fire volley. At last, Kurapika reveals his hand, conjuring a wall full of illustrated pages in front of him to act as a shield. He isn’t an Enhancer at all!

From defense to offense, the paper shield becomes a tornado that constructs around Gido as he spins. Page after page latches on to him, winding around Gido’s body like spooling thread.

Gido can’t move. He topples to the ground with his head still spinning.

* POV: Sadaso *

Sadaso’s battle strategy is simple, efficient, and deadly. First, he hides his aura with In. Then, he transmutes it into a long ghost of an arm with a large grasping hand, in place of the dangling sleeve where his left arm used to be. Finally, his long aura arm feels its way across the arena until it finds its target and latches on. He smothers the breath out of their lungs until they lose consciousness, and victory is his.

The trick is to avoid detection until it’s too late.

Gon doesn’t suspect a thing. He launches directly into an attack, his footsteps pounding on hard stone in Sadaso’s direction. Sadaso can hear the swoosh of Gon’s weapon slicing through the air.

All sound is abruptly cut off as Sadaso captures him. Gon is suspended in the air on one foot, trapped like an insect in amber. Awarding Sadaso one point, the referee counts down the seconds until Sadaso is once again declared the winner.

Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five…

Then Gon’s concentrated aura explodes from both hands like a ticking time bomb. Sadaso was so busy gloating, he didn’t notice his opponent hiding his attack with In! The sheer force of it is enough to blow Sadaso’s aura arm away.

Impossible! No one ever escapes from Sadaso’s grip!

In a taste of his own medicine, the explosion flattens Sadaso to the floor so forcefully, it knocks the breath from his lungs.

* POV: Riehlvelt *

So they all lost. Badly.

Congregating in the hallway for their usual gossip session, Riehlvelt, Sadaso, and Gido grumble to each other about their matches and try to figure out what to do next.

“Do you think it’s worth trying to swap rookies and try again in another fight?” asks Sadaso, partially hopeful, partially hesitant.

“After losing that fast? Nah, they’re too strong.” Riehlvelt shakes his head. “Two of them are just kids. Who even learns nen that young?”

“That’s the third fight I’ve lost.” fumes Gido. “One more and I’ll be knocked back down to the 190th floor!”

Pairo is making a beeline toward them, bearing a tray of small round pastries in his lap. What does he want? The three conspirators abruptly cut off their conversation, surrounding him in stony silence.

Pairo deliberately misses the hint. “Does anyone want apple pie? I made extra.”

No one moves. This feels like some kind of attack. Now Riehlvelt’s wounded pride is waging war against the fact that he missed breakfast today.

“You were serious?” Riehlvelt questions Pairo, dumbstruck. “Why do you want to be friends?”

Pairo shrugs. “Why not?”

Riehlvelt throws both of his hands in the air. “Because we decimate rookies for a living! Nobody wants to be our friend!”

“Even we don’t trust each other,” Gido boasts proudly. Sadaso nods his head emphatically in agreement.

Yeah! Except for how they’re discussing strategies together every day, and how they warn each other about tough opponents, and how they have each others’ phone numbers listed as their emergency contacts...

Pairo tilts his head to one side, considering. “And outside of this tower, where nobody knows you, everyone makes the mistake of looking down on you because of your injuries, right? Doesn’t it feel awfully lonely, with no one to support you?”

Well damn. Now Riehlvelt almost feels bad for picking on the guy. “Fine, I’ll take one of your damned pies! Pour salt on it, why don’t you?”

“Salt, on my apple pie!?” Pairo gasps with exaggerated offense, grinning. “I would never!”

“Mph,” agrees Riehlvelt agrees with his mouth full. By which he means, oh my god, it’s still warm. He takes another one. Sadaso and Gido only reach for their own pies after if looks like Riehlvelt isn’t about to drop dead from cyanide poisoning, the bastards.

Gido rarely takes off his mask in public, self-conscious about the scars on his face. But even he relents this time, pulling up the bottom of his mask just far enough to expose his mouth. He doesn’t have a free hand to hide his face; the one that isn’t holding a pie is holding his cane. While he eats, Gido partially ducks behind Sadaso, who he knows can’t see him.

Now that Pairo has them conversationally hooked, he goes in for the kill. “Why, if I might ask, do you pick on rookies?”

“Because we want to win, obviously,” answers Gido between bites. He inhales his pie quickly, brushes away the crumbs, then pulls his mask back into place before he can risk any passers by seeing part of his bare face.

“We want to become Floor Masters!” adds Sadaso. “Think of the fame and the glory! Think of the money!”

Officially, there’s no money. Unofficially, the betting pool is a real cash cow. Riehlvelt furrows his eyebrows, perplexed. “What, don’t you want to become a Floor Master?”

“No way!” Pairo shudders, grimacing. “Owing Hisoka one fight is enough. I can’t imagine having to pit myself against him twice a year at the Battle Olympia.”

Ah yes. Success comes at a steep price. “You’re a dead man.” Riehlvelt pats Pairo on the shoulder in sympathy, covering him in flaky crumbs. “Hisoka only ever loses when he doesn’t show up.” Riehlvelt figures if he ever made it to the Battle Olympia, he would fight all the other Floor Masters and avoid Hisoka like the plague.

“Oh, I’m not under any illusions that I could win. I’ve only been training in nen for a few months,” Pairo admits casually, as if he didn’t just completely shatter Riehlvelt’s world view. A few months!? “Maybe I can land a hit or two, if I’m lucky,” Pairo continues. “I made a deal with Hisoka under the condition that he treats our next fight like a sparring match. He may be unpredictable, but he keeps his word.”

Riehlvelt’s jaw drops. “Wait. You fought Hisoka before and survived!?”

“Yeah, during the Hunter Exam. But I wasn’t alone! I was with Kurapika and Gon,” answers Pairo, attempting to keep it humble and failing.

“No wonder we lost to you guys,” Gido mutters, too awed to sound entirely bitter.

“Was that how you were initiated?” Sadaso asks a question that Riehlvelt is also dying to find out the answer to.

Pairo shakes his head. “No, that was a match without nen. We learned from our nen master.”

“I wish I had a nen master,” Sadaso sighs. “We had to teach ourselves everything we know.”

As far as Riehlvelt is concerned, Pairo is like a god among men at this point. “Can you teach us?” Riehlvelt pleads, trying not to sound overly desperate.

“Oh, I’m hardly qualified! I only just learned the basics myself!” Pairo downplays his abilities with a disclaimer. “But I suppose I can at least give you a little advice.”

Riehlvelt, Sadaso, and Gido nod in unison, hanging on to Pairo’s every word.

“I hope by now you realize that picking on rookies doesn’t guarantee that you will win every fight! It isn’t a good strategy in the long run.” Pairo scolds gently. As if they needed the reminder! “As soon as you become Floor Masters, there won’t be any more rookies to pick on! If you want to improve and keep your rankings, all three of you need to work on your nen.”

Next, Pairo tailors his advice to each of their abilities.

“Sadaso, when I was watching your match against my friend Gon using Gyo, I couldn’t help but notice that when you were concentrating all of your aura on your attack, you left the rest of your body defenseless,” comments Pairo. “What would you have done against a ranged attack? Would you have been able to dodge, or would you have pulled back your attack to defend yourself?”

“I dodge if I can hear it coming,” Sadaso answers, bashfully fidgeting with his empty sleeve. “But you’re right, it can be hard to switch from attack to defense quickly enough.”

“You’d better train your defenses before your next fight, or you could get seriously hurt again!” warns Pairo.

“I don’t want that,” whispers Sadaso, intimidated by the very idea of another injury.

“Also,” Pairo continues, “if you always use the same attack in every fight, anyone who has watched one of your previous matches will be able to guess what you are trying to do in advance. You might want to consider expanding your abilities to be more flexible and unpredictable.”

“I’ll try.” Sadaso places his hand on his chin, already thinking about his next move.

Next, Pairo holds up one finger in Gido’s general direction. “Gido, have you ever tested what your nen type is?”

“Tornado Top is my strongest ability,” says Gido. “Why?”

“Then you’re probably an Enhancer,” explains Pairo. “In your match against Kurapika, you were using attacks that need enhancement, emission, and manipulation abilities. Since emission is relatively close to enhancement, your ability where you shoot tops at a single target will be about 80% as effective as your Tornado Top. Manipulation is farther away from enhancement, so your dancing tops will only be about half as effective. You need to come up with some vows and limitations to make up for the difference.”

Gido scratches his head through his hood, confused. “Vows and limitations?”

“For example, you could add time limits, or only be able to use specific attack patterns on specific days. There’s a tradeoff. The more difficult your restrictions are to pull off, the stronger it will make your ability.”

“That sounds hard,” says Gido, sounding disappointed. “I already have to keep my attack patterns pretty simple, or else my dancing tops become unmanageable.”

Pairo shrugs. “Coming up with new abilities is hard work, but Kurapika guessed your pattern pretty quickly. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what you want to do about it.”

Gido sighs, defeated.

But Pairo isn’t done critiquing him yet. “The other thing I noticed is that when you’re spinning in place, you’re leaving a vulnerability in two places: your prosthetic leg and your head. It must be hard to sense where an attack is coming from when you are spinning so quickly! You can sense an attack from any direction if you work on expanding and maintaining your En during battle.”

Lastly, Pairo turns to Riehlvelt. “Riehlvelt, during our fight, I couldn’t feel any aura coming from your Twin Snakes at all. No matter how strong you may think your weapons are, if you don’t reinforce them with nen, a proficient nen user can easily cut right through them like Hisoka with his playing cards!”

That would end Riehlvelt’s fight for sure! “Cutting my Twin Snakes to ribbons!? It took weeks to custom order them! What should I do?”

“You were using emission as a form of propulsion for your power chair, right?” Pairo asks as a follow up question.

“Yeah?” Riehlvelt isn’t sure where Pairo is going with this.

“Extending your aura to your whips using Shu should work for you. It’s an Enhancement ability, but since you are an Emitter, it should come naturally to you to be able to extend the range of your nen until you can reach all the way to the end of your whips once you get the hang of it.”

Riehlvelt thinks he is starting to understand. “The vows and conditions thing you told Gido also applies to me, right?”

“Right!” confirms Pairo. “I also have a question for you to consider. What happens if your opponent breaks the floor of the arena or sets up traps so that you can no longer maneuver your chair as easily anymore? Wouldn’t it be cool if you could use your aura to make your chair fly?”

“I wish I had thought of that sooner! I’m not sure if I have enough aura to pull it off yet, but seeing you do something like that makes me want to try it for myself!” On the one hand, it would take a lot more thrust to get his chair off the ground than it would to steer around the arena. Riehlvelt will have to be careful not to overextend himself. But on the other hand, Riehlvelt can already imagine all of his fans cheering.

“I’m sure you can imagine how happy it made me when I figured out how to use my shadow to let me go up and down the stairs!” Pairo enthuses.

So relatable. Riehlvelt can think of so many places he hasn’t been able to get into ever since he lost the use of his legs. Houses. Shops. Trails. Old subway stations. To think he could get those back, it opens up a whole world of possibilities again. Maybe when he’s strong enough, he can even take Gido along for a ride and make him totally jealous.

“One last thing,” adds Pairo. “Don’t get so good that Hisoka takes notice of you!”

* POV: Pairo *

“Why are we sitting with these losers again?” Killua asks suspiciously, jealously hunched over his comically large bucket of popcorn like a bird of prey.

“Hey!” fumes Gido from three seats away. “We’re fighters too! We can sit wherever we want!”

Pairo, sitting between Gido and Kurapika, makes a placating gesture with his hands. “Don’t worry, Killua. Gido, Sadaso, and Riehlvelt aren’t here to cause any trouble. They’re my friends now.” Pairo turns to his left. “Gido, don’t mind Killua. He’s rude to everybody. He might be slightly less rude if he decides he likes you later, but I won’t make any guarantees.”

“Whatever,” Killua mumbles through a crunchy mouthful of popcorn. He goes back to ignoring their former opponents in favor of focusing on Hisoka’s match.

The feeling appears to be mutual. “Hmph,” huffs Gido, then falls silent.

Gon manages to steal popcorn from Killua during his moment of distraction. Popcorn goes flying everywhere as they mock wrestle over their prize. Kurapika laughs at their antics, even as pieces of popcorn hit him in the face. They settle down as the announcer introduces Hisoka’s opponent: Floor Master Kamakiri, the Praying Mantis.

Kurapika describes the details Pairo can’t see with Gyo. In turn, Gido and Riehlvelt trade whispers with Sadaso, narrating the play by play and their opinions to their companion in hushed enthusiasm. Their camaraderie brings a smile to Pairo’s face.

Kamakiri, as described by Kurapika, is a tall blond man in a dark green trench coat and top hat who uses a pair of scimitars as his weapon of choice. By concentrating his aura on his eyes, Pairo can make out Kamakiri’s silhouette, and the curve of deadly aura around his blades.

And Hisoka is… Hisoka. Pairo would recognize his aura anywhere; bright pink and playful, with a deadly undercurrent of blood lust.

Unfortunately, Hisoka also seems to recognize Pairo among a thousand spectators. As the referee calls out the start of the match, Hisoka is waving directly in Pairo’s direction in the stands instead of paying attention to his opponent. Pairo jumps a little in his seat, startled. To his right, Kurapika’s aura flares with steely resolve as he gives Pairo’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Now that Hisoka knows Pairo is here and has learned nen, there’s no turning back. His turn is coming up next. But that’s exactly why Pairo is here. He needs to study as much as he can about Hisoka’s nen before stepping into the ring against him. Pairo squeezes Kurapika’s hand in return.

Kamakiri does not appreciate being ignored. He throws both scimitars with a huff of irritation, spinning through the air and looping around Hisoka in an arc.

In the blink of an eye, Hisoka’s aura stretches out into long and thin shape to ensnare the scimitars in midair. The scimitars disappear and reappear in Kamakiri’s hands.

Over the course of Hisoka’s fight, Pairo learns three important things:

One: the audience is not off limits. The arena and all the people in it are subject to collateral damage as one of Hisoka’s attacks sends a stone slab from the arena flooring flying directly toward Pairo and his friends in the stands. Reacting quickly, Gon shatters the stone slab with his fist. Kurapika shields the nearby audience members from the debris with the pages of his book. Unruffled, Killua doesn’t move other than to protect his popcorn from getting pebbles and dust in it. No matter how many screams rise up all around them, the referee doesn’t deduct any points.

Two: Pairo’s blind eyes tell him a completely different story than he is hearing from Kurapika on his right, Gido on his left, or even the announcer overhead. While Hisoka is entertaining the entire audience, explaining a magic trick that Pairo is unable to see, Pairo’s Gyo shows him that Hisoka is sticking a long thread of his nen to a distracted Kamakiri who does absolutely nothing to block it.

And three: Bungee Gum has the properties of rubber and gum.

The longer it goes on, the more this match appears to be entirely one-sided. Hisoka keeps toying with Kamakiri, dancing out of the way of the scimitars no matter how his opponent slashes with his blades. Kamakiri is fast. Hisoka is faster. Once Hisoka grows bored, he slices Kamakiri to ribbons with his playing cards in an instant.

As everyone rises to leave, Gido lightly punches Pairo on the shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, good luck out there. We’ll be cheering for you.”

* POV: Kurapika *

The day of his big match, Pairo is a nervous wreck. Kurapika has never seen him like this: distracted, getting up out of his wheelchair to pace back and forth, forgetting to lean on his cane or his spear or the wall for support. His eyes are scarlet. Kurapika can tell, even though Pairo is wearing his dark contacts.

“Should I bring my wheelchair to this fight?” Pairo frets. “Do you think Hisoka will smash it to pieces? But if I don’t bring it, how long will I be able to go on before my legs hurt too much and I can’t fight anymore? I have to be at my best. Hisoka is so much stronger than me, and he has so many tricks up his sleeve.”

“Pairo, stop. Breathe.” Kurapika gently scoops him up in his conjured pages of Dino Hunter, like a hammock. “Do you even feel your legs right now? You’re going to wear yourself out before your fight even starts.”

Reluctantly, Pairo closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. As he begins to relax, he curls up on his side and nestles further into the embrace of Kurapika’s nen. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m okay now.”

“Do what’s comfortable for you,” Kurapika advises. “If Hisoka smashes your wheelchair, we’ll buy you a new one. I know it may take a while to get it custom ordered again, but it’s more important for you to be able to maneuver around easily. Besides, you can reinforce it with Shu now, right?”

Pairo sighs with frustration. “But I can’t use Shu and Gyo and my shadow vines all at the same time! How can I defend myself and see what Hisoka is up to?”

“You can’t. You’ll have to switch between them and hope that you’re fast enough.” Kurapika doesn’t sugar coat it. Pairo hasn’t trained enough for this. After only five months of practice, switching between offense and defense doesn’t come as fluidly as second nature to either of them yet. They both know that this match will be one-sided; the only variable will be the extent.

Kurapika bends down to give Pairo a kiss on the forehead. “Try not to get hurt too badly, okay?”

In return, Pairo gives him a small, uncertain nod.

At least now Kurapika can help with an ability he didn’t possess before: his page bandages. They won’t heal any injury within seconds unless Kurapika’s eyes are scarlet, and Kurapika won’t be able to use any of the pages for anything else until the healing is complete, but they will speed up the process.

Resting his hand on Pairo’s elbow, Kurapika tries to reassure him. “But if you do get hurt, don’t worry. Between me and Leorio, we’ll get you patched up in no time.”

* POV: Hisoka *

Blaring over the loudspeakers, the announcer's voice entices loud cheers from all around the arena.

"Entering from the door on my left, give it up for our newest Floor Master, the invincible Hisoka Morow! Can he maintain his momentum from the 200th floor, where he became a Floor Master with ten wins and three losses?  Always unpredictable and always a thrill, any time Hisoka enters the ring, he has not lost a single fight yet!"

Hisoka ignores the entire crowd. Irrelevant. Insignificant, other than the fruits he would very much enjoy plucking later.  He only has eyes for his opponent.

"And entering from the door on my right, it's Pairo, a newcomer to the 200th floor! Since making it to this floor, Pairo's record remains uncontested, with one win and no losses!  Pairo is an experienced fighter at Heavens Arena, known for ending matches quickly since he was only twelve years old! Today he is entering the ring with a wheelchair and no weapons!"

It was a lesson Hisoka learned early, being so shy. To put on the best show as a magician, one must treat the audience as merely a set of tools, a source of revenue, utterly disposable.  Here in the fighting ring, Hisoka is all alone, with only one dance partner.

Just how he likes it.

Over the past eight months, Pairo's strength has grown palpably.  How wonderful it is to see him again! Can Pairo see the way Hisoka smiles? Can he feel the thrill running through Hisoka's body?  Surely he must.

For the very first time, Pairo looks Hisoka directly in the eye, nervous but prepared.  Oh? Is he focusing aura into his eyes? Hisoka is beyond delighted.  "My, my. Using Gyo already? Why, it's almost as if you don't trust me."

Pairo says nothing. No matter how deftly Hisoka shuffles his playing cards, Pairo's gaze remains focused on Hisoka's face.

How very interesting. At this rate, he may even keep Hisoka on his toes!

"This match will be decided by points, with no time limit." The referee raises one arm in the air, brings it down in a chopping motion between the two fighters, then jumps back out of the way.  "Ready, fight!"

Test number one: Can Pairo make Hisoka move from the center of the ring?

Why, yes! Pairo's very first move is to drop his Gyo as a mass of coiling shadow vines erupts from beneath Hisoka's feet.  As Hisoka jumps up, attaching his Bungee Gum to the ceiling and shrinking it, the vines blink away from the floor to erupt from a new set of shadows in the ceiling a split second later.  Hisoka reattaches his Bungee Gum and swings out of the way.

Test number two: will Pairo be able to prevent Hisoka from attaching Bungee Gum to him?  He cannot keep his eyes everywhere at once.  Pairo can only afford to use Gyo in short blinks, in between short bursts of shadow vines.  Hisoka launches a wave of assault to exploit this weakness: a spray of playing cards, a barrage of broken flagstones, a flurry of punches.  Pairo reacts just in time to shield himself with a wall of shadow vines, even from the stones coming from behind his head. But it was all a ruse: hiding a strand of Bungee gum with In, Hisoka slowly, sneakily stretches his aura toward the underside of Pairo's jaw.

Using his shadow vines to throw the fragments of flagstones and Hisoka's playing cards back at Hisoka, Pairo doesn't notice Hisoka's Bungee Gum in time to dodge it.

The debris is easy to swat away. Hisoka grins slyly. Pairo's eyes go wide as Hisoka plucks him out of his wheelchair like a marionette. Now for the inevitable.  Hisoka shrinks his Bungee Gum toward his right fist, ready to deliver a sucker punch.

Hisoka’s fist never connects. An invisible shadow vine yanks Hisoka's feet out from underneath him, as Pairo goes sailing over Hisoka's head. Pairo rights himself, using his shadow vines to cushion his fall.

“Critical hit and down!” calls the referee. “Three points to Pairo.”

Ah, but does Pairo realize that trick will only work once? Hisoka springs back to his feet and applauds for him, grinning from ear to ear. “Bravo, Pairo! Using my own trick against me, how flattering! I have been waiting so patiently for you to ripen, my darling green apple. Would you like to come to dinner with me after this match is over?”

“I’m not interested,” Pairo responds frostily, his face pulling into a scowl.

Even without using Gyo, Pairo manages to dodge several of Hisoka’s playing cards from various directions. He proves to be less easy to distract than most of Hisoka’s opponents.

“No? A pity. Perhaps I ought to ask Gon instead. Do you think he will say yes?”

Ohoho, that struck a nerve! Pairo’s vines rear up like snakes to constrict around Hisoka’s torso, ready to dash his brains out against the stone floor. But Hisoka’s Bungee Gum is both stronger and more flexible. As Hisoka once again shrinks his Bungee Gum toward the ceiling, he takes Pairo halfway up to the steel beams with him. Unable to reach them and with nowhere to attach to in midair, Pairo’s shadow simply vanishes.

Now Pairo is at Hisoka’s mercy. All Hisoka has to do is to shrink the Bungee Gum still attached to Pairo’s head, and he will be little more than a punching bag.

He tries to defend himself with his aura. He tries to punch back. But Pairo is too inexperienced, and too slow.

No sense drawing this out any longer; a fight consisting of nothing but punches is terribly dull. So Hisoka punches downward.

Pairo plummets.

Pairo doesn’t get up.

Clean hit. Critical hit. Down for the count.

From somewhere in the stands, Kurapika screams.

What’s the big fuss? Hisoka kept his promise. No matter how tempting, it would be a waste to kill someone with as much potential as Pairo.

Hisoka dismissively saunters away from the ring, and doesn’t look back.

* POV: Kurapika *

“I’m going to kill Hisoka!” Kurapika snarls.

Not even Gon and Killua combined can hold him back as he launches himself over the heads of ten rows of audience members into the middle of the arena, rudely elbowing the referee away in the process.

But first, priorities.

Pairo is unconscious, bleeding, and his jaw is swollen and bruised. He doesn’t look like any of his bones are bent at the wrong angle, but the memory from their childhood is seared too deeply into Kurapika’s memory for him to take any chances.

This is precisely what Kurapika developed his page bandages for. He uses every page in his entire book to cocoon Pairo’s body, steadily pouring nen into him until he can feel every muscle, blood vessel, and skin cell regenerating itself. The Heavens Arena medical team gathers in a crowd around him, hovering uselessly and wringing their hands.

Beneath Kurapika’s bandages, Pairo begins to stir. Kurapika allows several pages to disappear so that he can see Pairo’s face, now smooth and back to its normal color.

Pairo blinks, unfocused, and tries to sit up. “Ow. Let’s not do that again.”

Kurapika allows the rest of Dino Hunter to vanish as relief bleeds the fire from his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“Tired. Sore. A little stiff,” Pairo answers, wriggling his fingers and his feet. He shakes his head as if trying to clear it, then holds it between both hands and winces. “Okay that made the dizziness worse. Pika, can you do me a favor and bring my wheelchair back to me? I think I need a break from my nen for a little while.”

Of course Kurapika obliges. Maybe now he will let the medical team look at Pairo, but only if they can withstand the pressure of Kurapika judging them the entire time.

* POV: Pairo *

“Do you think I could help Gon and Killua raise money for the auction by selling some of these embroidered outfits from Lukso Village?” Kurapika muses.

“Sure, it couldn’t hurt,” Pairo agrees. “We’ll split the profits and send some home.”

“Hmm, in that case, maybe I’d better take these bolts of cloth with me too. And my sewing machine. If I can’t find anywhere to plug it in, there’s always Killua.”

Pairo giggles. “Do you want me to help you sit on your suitcase to make it fit?”

“I’m not joking! Did you know I can conjure a nen space that doesn’t exist in the physical plane?” Kurapika announces proudly. “All I have to do is close two pages around whatever object I want to pack up, and it will stay there until I need it! Two pages per item, any size. It will shrink to fit. Watch this!”

Ooh, Pairo hasn’t seen this ability yet! He observes, fascinated, as the large blur where Kurapika’s sewing supplies used to be simply vanishes into thin air.

“Ta da!” Kurapika finishes his demonstration with a flourish. “The only caveat is, then I can’t use those two pages for any other ability until I empty them out.”

Pairo nods. It’s another non-combat ability like the page bandages. “I see. So you need to be careful about how many pages you use or else you leave yourself defenseless.”

“Exactly,” Kurapika confirms.

This opens up a lot of possibilities! Now Pairo has to change his entire strategy for what to pack on their trip to York Shin. “Can you pack my lyre too? I can’t sling it on the back of my wheelchair at the same time as my bag. They’ll get in the way of each other.”

“Yeah! Playing music to attract customers to our auction? I like the way you think!” Kurapika never says no to an opportunity to listen to Pairo playing, especially now that it’s so difficult to find time for it while traveling so much. Away Pairo’s lyre goes, case and all.

“That was so cool!” Pairo enthuses. “Do you think I should take my baking supplies?”

This is where Kurapika has to draw the line, even though Dino Hunter is over four hundred pages long. “Hmm, no. I want to leave at least half of my book free, so I don’t think my sewing supplies and your baking supplies will fit at the same time. There must be somewhere we can rent some kitchen space in York Shin if you want to bake for the auction too.”

“Okay. That’s probably easier than having to pack and unpack everything anyway.” In that case, all Pairo will pack in his bags are his spices and dried fruits from home. They can figure the rest out later.

Then there is a knock on their hotel room door.

“I’ll get it.” Kurapika insists on answering.

Pairo sighs. “Kurapika, you can stop fussing over me now, I’ll be fine.”

The Heavens Arena medical staff diagnosed Pairo with a mild concussion, which, thanks to Kurapika’s healing ability, is already showing remarkable signs of improvement, and which they expected him to fully recover from. All he has to do is take it easy for the next few days. There will be plenty of time to sit back and do absolutely nothing while spending the next several days on the airship to York Shin. It’s not like Pairo is capable of overtaxing his brain by reading with his eyes or watching too much TV anyway!

It was comforting when Kurapika accompanied Pairo to the 200th floor medical ward. It was nice when Kurapika offered to pamper him in the bath, washing his hair for him as an act of care. It was reassuring when they curled up and took a long nap together, knowing that Kurapika’s healing abilities and the tension of watching the fight also took a lot out of him.

But this… is excessive.

“Hi! Um.” Riehlvelt’s voice trails off, intimidated, as Kurapika blocks the doorway like a guard dog.

“We wanted to check on Pairo to make sure he wasn’t, you, know, dead.” Sadaso blurts out in a rush.

Pairo swats Kurapika out of the way. “Kurapika, you don’t have to protect me from my new friends.”

Reluctantly, Kurapika stands down. He doesn’t trust the rookie hunters one bit.

Gido gasps in awe at the sight of Pairo all in one piece. “Holy shit, you hit Hisoka and lived!”

“Oh, good.” Sadaso sags with relief, leaning against the wall. “That means we don’t have to say goodbye forever, right? Please keep in touch! Can you add your number to my phone?”

“Can I have your autograph?” asks Gido.

“Do you mind if we see you off at the airport?” asks Riehlvelt.

Pairo raises an eyebrow pointedly in Kurapika’s direction.

“Fine,” Kurapika grumbles.

Chapter Text

* POV: Leorio *

It’s September first, and time is running out.

Hunter jobs or not, Gon and Killua haven’t managed to raise anywhere near the 8.9 billion jenny they would need to meet the opening bid on even one copy of Greed Island, let alone four. Just as much as Gon and Killua, Kurapika and Pairo are itching with curiosity about what could be inside a game designed specifically for Hunters. If it’s possible to die in the game for real, what makes it worthwhile for up to a hundred Hunters to take that risk? Could the game contain riches beyond imagination? Rare books? Incredible medicines? Clues to find Gon’s deadbeat dad? The only way to find out is to play.

So Gon and Killua split up, trying to find items to buy and sell for a profit at the flea market auction, while Kurapika sets up a shop to display his handiwork, a selection of Pairo's tempting pastries, and some other crafts from their fellow Kuruta villagers.

Leorio stares, slack-jawed, as Kurapika pulls the following items out of nowhere:

A rolled-up rug that’s longer than Kurapika is tall, demarcating the boundaries of his market stall;

A life-sized wooden mannequin;

An entire clothing rack, coat hangers and all;

Several Kuruta outfits in a riot of bright colors;

A quilt that looks far too warm for early September. (But hey, if it sells, it sells. One of Kurapika’s relatives worked really hard on it);

Various leather bags, wallets and purses, plain and patterned with floral designs;

An armload of soft plush toys in pastel colors, stuffed with piko down;

A folding table;

Two baking trays loaded with mini pies, cookies, and buns;

A chair;

An odd-shaped instrument case, which Leorio has trouble identifying until Pairo gingerly takes it from Kurapika’s hands and reveals a little harp that can fit in his lap;

Kurapika’s latest embroidery project, which appears to be a large triangular shawl or head scarf; and

Kurapika’s sewing kit, containing various sewing needles, a rolled-up tape measure, bobbins of thread, and a small pair of scissors.

Leorio knew Kurapika was a Conjurer, but damn! “Where the hell did all this come from!?”

“I’ll explain later.” Kurapika winks at him, then whispers conspiratorially in his ear. “Nen space. I can make anything fit between two pages.”

Oh yeah, right, Hatsu is supposed to be kept a secret. After only three months of training, Leorio can barely manage to make a mug of water change colors, let alone figure out what he wants to do with his nen. He is hoping inspiration will strike as he gets deeper into his studies.

Sitting beside the edge of the rug to Leorio’s left, Pairo plucks a series of chords, then tunes each individual string until he is satisfied with the result. It makes for a lovely festive atmosphere even before he starts playing a real tune. Luring in the customers with music, huh? Smart!

Leorio turns to study Kurapika’s collection of hand-embroidered robes more carefully. There are cozy under-robes, tabards, skirts, dresses, jackets with buttons, waist sashes, hats and scarves, and even shoes embroidered in gleaming gold thread. Some of the clothing looks more practical for every day use; some seems to be more formal and decorative. There are geometric patterns and flowers, tiny birds, and suns and moons. The closer he looks, the more details he finds. Leorio is just as impressed now as when Kurapika tailored a fancy outfit to use onlyonce as a disguise. He has never owned anything fancier ever since. Maybe Leorio will wear that vest to a wedding someday.

Hovering nosily as Kurapika begins to write out item descriptions and prices on bid forms, Leorio’s inner haggling champion has to know: “Say, how much were you planning to put down as your starting bids for these?”

“For a simple scarf like this, we would usually charge around twenty thousand jenny in Nancha City,” answers Kurapika. “We can’t out-compete the prices on the cheap stuff in the department store, but any higher and the tourists all turn up their noses.”

Leorio shakes his head. “You’re not going to make billions with that pricing scheme. How many hours did you spend on these? What’s the going hourly rate for a Hunter’s time? Add two more zeroes minimum.”

“Excuse me?” Kurapika’s eyes go wide.

Pairo gasps, speaking in hushed tones. “Wow, wait until the Elder hears about this!”

Leorio nods enthusiastically. “Yup, we’re talking about a completely different customer base here. You know the Southernpiece auction is run by the York Shin mafia, right? We’re surrounded by rich guys who love nothing more than to show off how rich they are. And these are specially imported artisan crafts that what, only a hundred people on this planet even know how to make anymore?”

“Less than twenty, actually,” Kurapika answers, warming to Leorio’s theme. “Some of us are farmers, some of us build houses, some of us are traders, some of us are leather workers, some of us harvest the piko down, and some of us know how to do embroidery. Nobody knows how to do everything.”

“Exactly.” Leorio jabs one finger into the air for emphasis. “The point is, don’t sell them like they’re clothes. Sell them like they’re collector’s items. Sell them like they’re priceless memories. Sell them like they’re works of art.”

Kurapika grabs Leorio’s hand in a vice grip and nearly shakes his arm out of its socket. “Leorio, we’re putting you in charge of marketing.”

Leorio salutes Kurapika with his free hand. “Aye aye, Sunshine! Can’t wait until we knock Gon and Killua’s socks off with how much cash we’re making! We’ll get ‘em into Greed Island in no time!”

* POV: Senritsu *

The Sonata of Darkness has taken everything from Senritsu. Her best friend. Her youthful innocence. Her hair. Her skin. Her band and her former classmates, none of whom recognize her anymore.

The Sonata of Darkness has taken everything, except for who Senritsu is at her core. Her love for music. her choice to be kind to others. Not even the devil himself could ever succeed in taking those away.

Being assigned as a glorified babysitter for her new employer’s self-centered teenage daughter is a tiresome assignment, but one Senritsu will simply have to endure in silence. With Neon’s grotesque collection of cursed artifacts and preserved medical specimens and her father’s vast network of Mafia connections, Senritsu is sure that she will be able to turn this situation to her advantage in her hunt for every page of every movement of the Sonata. Drawn to the macabre, one day her new employer will inevitably lead her to the scarred, twisted, wretched husk of what used to be a foolish, overconfident musician just like her. And on that day, Senritsu will bear solemn witness to these desecrated human remains. She will not look away.

It is with these gloomy thoughts that Senritsu accompanies Neon to the sprawling open air market surrounding the Southernpiece Auction House. At the tail end of summer, with less than a week remaining before the main auction opens, the bright, loud atmosphere of their surroundings only serves to make Senritsu’s mood worse. She is too hot, she has to tune out the sound of too many passers-by as they talk and shout and haggle over each other, and the beginning of a headache is starting to scratch its nails across her temples.

Senritsu winces at Neon’s ear splitting squeal of delight, signaling yet another impending purchase. When she unscrews her tightly closed eyes, she notices her new colleague Basho frowning at her with concern over the towering stack of boxes he is carrying in his arms. He whispers a poem into the air. No need to lean close; Senritsu could hear every word clearly from a block away.

Hey there, little friend.
Let’s dampen some of this noise.
Then you’ll feel better.

And she does.

Basho offers to offload the many bags Senritsu is carrying from her hands. She looks up at him, smiles, and shakes her head. No, no, he has enough to deal with already.

One of the few people who never flinched at her appearance, Basho is one bright spot of camaraderie in Senritsu’s current employment situation. He works to live, and takes living his life seriously. One day when he decides he has made enough money, he will go racing away on a new adventure on his motorcycle.

Then Senritsu will be alone again.

This gloom is proving to be harder to shake than the headache!

That is, until the sound of distant singing reaches her ears: two joyous voices rising and falling in harmony, accompanied by gently flowing notes plucked from a lyre. Both the language and the melody are unlike anything Senritsu has ever heard. It could be entirely new, or perhaps centuries old; the kind of music Senritsu would hunt for the rest of her days if she has the extraordinary good fortune to survive her mission. Perhaps today, Senritsu ought to pause for a deep breath and take a page from Basho’s book.

“Boss?” she addresses Neon. “Would you mind if we took a detour around the next corner? I have a feeling we're about to find a really interesting shop.”

* POV: Neon *

Interesting how? What could someone who dresses like a frumpy schoolteacher, all boring in dark greens and browns, possibly find interesting? Neon would never turn to someone in such dire need of a makeover for fashion advice, that’s for sure!

Then again, this is the first time her new bodyguard is showing any interest in shopping at all. And after all, Daddy did say that Senritsu managed to get the preserved skin of a patient suffering from Dracoderma disease for Neon’s collection.

As they approach the next intersection, Neon can see that there are a lot of market stalls down the next street. Surely at least one of them must be worth buying something from! Neon nods once, then flounces around the corner like it was her idea all along.

Pottery? Boring. Paintings? Also boring, even if Daddy might like them. Cell phones? Not what Neon is looking for right now. She browses through their selection of phone charms and cases before quickly losing interest.

Then, coming from farther up the alley, some kind of foreign folk music reaches Neon’s ears. Huh? Could it be some kind of street performance? There’s a big crowd gathering around one area in particular, making it hard to see exactly what’s going on. Curious, Neon has to come closer and think about it for a moment before she can decide whether she likes the music or not. Slowly but surely, the tune is growing on her. It’s weird but kinda catchy!

Neon sweeps her way to the front row of onlookers, parting the press of nobodies all around her by any means necessary. First she flutters her eyelashes, pouts and asks pretty please, then she ruthlessly steps on the toes of anyone who dares to ignore her. Her fuddy duddy chaperons apologize for her as they follow in her wake. Too bad! Neon was half hoping she would shake them off her tail.

So what is everybody staring at?

The shop doesn’t look that interesting at first glance, but the people in it are another story.

To the left, a brown-haired boy who can’t be much older than Neon is seated in a wheelchair with his eyes closed, singing a melody and strumming along with the small harp in his lap. Some of the audience who like his performance toss a few jenny into his instrument case; chump change as far as Neon is concerned.

In the middle, a pretty blond who also appears to be around Neon’s age is seated at a table surrounded by clothing, fabric, and thread- not Neon’s style, but at least she can appreciate the colors. Lined up next to each other at the front of the table are some of the most adorable, softest looking plushies Neon has ever seen. Is the pretty blond a performer, a vendor, or both? He sings a countermelody while sewing a gold leaf pattern onto a triangle of dark red fabric.

To the right, a really tall hot guy in a dark blue suit and tie is leaning casually against a clothing rack, grinning and rubbing his hands together with anticipation as he sizes up the crowd. The really tall hot guy gives the pretty blond a thumbs up. The blond gently touches the harp player on the shoulder. The harp player nods and opens his eyes. He trails off and lets the last notes fade out until the resulting silence is swallowed by a round of applause.

“Welcome, everyone!” announces the really tall hot guy before the crowd has a chance to grow restless and disperse. “I hope you enjoyed the show! We have a real treat for everyone tonight: genuine handmade artisan crafts imported all the way from Lukso Village, rumored to have been lost to time in the forests of Lukso Province for a hundred years! Step right up and get ready to place your bids before these one of a kind treasures are gone forever. If you have any questions about how these 100% organic, naturally dyed fabrics are made, just ask our master tailor Kurapika and he can tell you all about them!”

Wow, a tailor! Neon’s hand shoots up and she bounces up and down on her heels. “Ooh pick me! Pick me!”

“Yes? The young lady in the front.” The blond inclines his head toward Neon, smiling politely.

“Do you make dresses?” asks Neon.

“We have a few dresses available,” the blond responds, rising to his feet and pulling a green dress and a purple dress from the clothing rack to show off in each hand.

“No, no, not those,” Neon waves him away dismissively. “I mean a dress just for me!”

The pretty blond eyes her warily, his smile flattening into a calculating frown. “A custom commission? That depends. We would need to negotiate based on your timeline and the level of complexity of the design elements you have in mind. Stick around after the auction and we can talk.”

Neon could sense hesitation there, but that definitely wasn’t a no! Neon knows all kinds of ways to work with definitely-not-a-no! She nods at him with a big smile on her face, assured that she has already won.

“Any other questions?” the really tall hot guy asks, peering back and forth among the rest of the crowd. Neon only pays attention to the murmurs all around her insofar as sizing up who she will have to bid against for those plushies. And she spots a scarf that would look amazing in her hair!

Anticipation builds, and the market stall’s auction begins! Time to put Daddy’s check book to good use!

* POV: Shalnark *

For the first time in three years, the Boss has gathered the whole Phantom Troupe together for their biggest heist yet: ransacking the biggest auction in the world. The Boss’s orders are beautiful in their simplicity.

Rule number one: Steal everything, and

Rule number two: Kill everyone who gets in your way.

On it, Boss!

The sprawling flea market surrounding the main auction house is the perfect opportunity for a warm up exercise. So far Shizuku has stolen a large diamond from a jeweler, Feitan has picked so many pockets he can barely stuff any more jennies into his coat, and Franklin is keeping a keen eye out for the first good excuse to start a brawl.

Shalnark surveys the various shops and conditional auctions from the flat rooftops of a row of low rise apartments, watching people come and go like tiny ants. He likes to investigate any gathering crowds, where it’s easy to slip in unnoticed, stick an antenna into a new minion to do his bidding for him, and then slip away with a new acquisition without having ever been spotted on the scene.

Oh look. There’s a good crowd over there!

A ring of bodies press around a colorful market stall. Strains of music float up to Shalnark’s ears, comforting and familiar in a way he can’t quite place. If he listens hard enough, he imagines he can recognize some of the words. Something about berries ripening on a riverbank in summer. Something about singing birds. Something about love.

Growing up, Shalnark used to dream about having a place like that, where food was so abundant and free you could just take it whenever you wanted, and never go hungry. A place where there was a cool breeze that didn’t smell like garbage, and running water you could drink without immediately getting sick. A place that probably doesn’t exist. How dare these total strangers make Shalnark feel nostalgic for the one thing he can’t steal!

So he’ll steal the next best thing instead. Those clothes look so comfortable and easy to move in, lightweight and breezy. Shalnark’s favorite style is also impossible to shoplift from any regular old clothing store; he has to keep asking Machi to make clothes for him instead, whenever his action-packed lifestyle tears his existing outfits to shreds. Shalnark slips into the anonymity of the crowd, intrigued enough to take a closer look. Hmm, there’s a good chance they’re even in his size! Might as well steal some good quality cloth and thread too, in case he needs any minor alterations. The leftover fabric can be a nice thank you gift for Machi.

Shalnark selects a new victim, discreetly placing two gawking men standing in front of him under the control of Black Voice. Then he slips away, back to the rooftops, and waits for an opportune moment to strike.

And there it is. Shalnark couldn’t have asked for a more perfect distraction. The spoiled princess in the front row throws an enormous tantrum after losing a bidding war over three stuffed toys. She throws boxes of her previous purchases in every direction, flailing her arms and kicking her legs and crying false tears as she insists that the market stall’s blond tailor makes it up to her by sewing her a dress. While avoiding flying hats and fists and dresses with pink ruffles, nobody notices two nondescript strangers stuffing large armfuls of fabric under their coats until Shalnark is back at their hideout and laughing about it.

He kills both minions the instant he no longer has a use for them. No witnesses! Goodbye, and thanks for playing!

Time to try on these outfits. Hmm, purple, red, or green?

The under-robes are a bit too long, but that should be easy to fix. The emerald tunic embroidered with gold birds, however, fits him perfectly.

“Hey Machi, look! I got you a little present.”

Machi raises one unimpressed eyebrow without bothering to look up from filing her nails. “Pay up if you want me to make you something.”

She never takes anyone seriously. (Especially Hisoka, but he deserves it.) “No, look,” Shalnark insists.

Taking her sweet time, Machi saunters over to Shalnark’s freshly stolen rolls of fabric, then runs her fingers across them. “Naturally dyed flax,” she pronounces, finally cracking a small smile.

Success!

* POV: Kurapika *

On the one hand, Kurapika just made a cool fifteen million jenny off of three stuffed toys sewn by his mother. (The dolphin is his favorite). But on the other hand, this girl is being so disruptive, Leorio can’t continue their auction! Faced with screaming and a barrage of flying objects, all their customers are leaving as hastily as possible. Kurapika, Leorio, and Pairo will simply have to give up and try to auction off the rest of their items tomorrow.

“You’ve ruined our entire auction and scared away all our customers!” Kurapika has to shout over the girl to be heard. “I refuse to work for a belligerent client who doesn’t have a modicum of respect!”

But the stubborn girl won’t take no for an answer. If anything she starts crying even louder, showing no signs of wearing herself out anytime soon.

Kurapika is fed up and pissed off. He conjures a single page of Dino Hunter to plaster over her mouth. That ought to shut her up. When she responds with a muffled protest and tries to punch him in the chest, Kurapika captures both of her fists in his hands and glares down at her. Finally, she gives up on all resistance, blinking up at him with wide, glittering eyes.

Behind her, the short, round person (Kurapika can’t really tell if they’re a man or a woman) who was carrying an armload of bags for the girl uncovers their ears, collapsing into a seated position with an audible sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” Leorio addresses the seated person with concern. “You look like you could use a break. Here, you can borrow Kurapika’s chair. It will be more comfortable than sitting on the floor,” he offers pulling it out from behind Kurapika’s table. Kurapika nods along with Leorio in agreement.

“Thank you,” the short person answers in a soft voice as they take advantage of a rare moment to rest.

“Sorry for the trouble. We’ll take it from here.” The burly mustached man who also came along with the girl shakes his head and begins gathering up the girl’s scattered previous purchases from where they lay strewn about all over the floor.

During this moment of reprieve, Kurapika takes stock of the remaining auction items, only to realize that half of his clothing rack fabrics are missing! “Aw man, Elder Tapikt is gonna kill me! Someone just stole three of my robes and my red, green and purple fabrics while we were busy dealing with all this mess!”

“I’m sure the Elder would still be happy with the money we already made,” Pairo tries to calm Kurapika down by focusing on the bright side. “We can always try again tomorrow!”

Too bad fifteen million jenny is still only a drop in the bucket compared to the billions they will need to bid on Greed Island. It isn’t even enough to pay Leorio back for the money they pooled together while they were all trying to bail Killua out. It’s hard not to feel discouraged by the daunting task ahead of them.

“I’m going to let go of you,” Kurapika addresses the girl, frowning sternly. “Are you ready to speak at a normal volume and stop behaving like a two year old?” A tense moment follows as he allows the page of Dino Hunter to dematerialize from across the girl’s mouth. He releases both of her wrists.

She doesn’t move from standing pressed against him. The girl is now blushing pink across both cheeks, where Kurapika’s conjured page used to be. “You’re really cute,” she squeaks out in a hushed tone, still staring up at him.

“Oh my god, I cannot deal with this,” Kurapika groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What, you think that trashing my business in one breath and attempting to flirt with me in the next will somehow magically make me more likely to say yes?” He steps back until he regains his personal space. “I’m taken. Go away.”

The girl visibly deflates, pouting. At least she doesn’t start crying again.

“Oh no! Another admirer!” At least Pairo thinks this is funny, grinning and laughing at Kurapika’s expense. “Sorry Pika, you’re on your own with this one. I already exceeded my quota when I fought off Hisoka on your behalf, wouldn’t you agree?”

Of course Kurapika would have done the same for him, if Pairo had allowed him. “Please, don’t remind me. How about we never talk about Hisoka again?”

“Consider it done!” Pairo agrees brightly.

“Would you make me a dress for two million jenny?” the girl asks Kurapika, undeterred by their earlier argument. She waves a wad of blank checks at him for emphasis.

Kurapika is having none of it. “As far as I’m concerned, you already owe me fifty million in losses for the stolen goods before we even begin to talk about a custom made dress.”

The girl gasps, shocked. “No fair! That’s more than three times the bid for all three of the plushies combined!”

Kurapika raises one eyebrow, merciless. “Exactly. Those were entire outfits. They take a lot longer to make than a small plush toy.”

“Fine!” The girl folds her arms over her chest, stubborn. “I’m going to call my daddy!”

One brief phone call later, in which the girl keeps wheedling until she gets her way, she gets back to Kurapika with a new offer. “How about sixty million?”

“Hmm, you’re getting warmer.” Taking into account the stolen goods, that’s easily a thousand times more than Kurapika would normally charge for a dress at the Nancha City market, but he doesn’t like her. “Eighty million, and I’ll get back to you in a week.” Kurapika triples price of the dress, not expecting her to actually accept.

The girl refuses to back down. “How about a hundred million, if you have it ready before the Southernpiece Auction starts?”

“Holy shit, take it,” Leorio whispers into Kurapika’s ear.

“Very well, I accept,” Kurapika agrees hesitantly. At least he will only have to deal with this childish girl for five days. “I will need sixty percent payment up front and the remainder when it’s finished. Let’s set up a consultation so I can take your measurements and discuss colors and patterns. I will need your contact information so that I can let you know when it’s ready for pick up.”

“Nope!” The girl folds her arms across her chest and juts out her chin. “I know how men make promises! You’re coming along with me! Otherwise, how do I know you’re not just going to say yes to make me go away, and then I’ll never hear from you again?”

“That wasn’t part of our negotiation. I’ll do it for a hundred and twenty million,” counters Kurapika. If he’s going to regret this, he had better make a shitload of money doing it.

“Yay!” the girl squeals, clapping her hands with excitement. Kurapika supposes that’s a yes, then. Looping one elbow around Kurapika’s arm, she tugs him along with her. “I’m Neon! What was your name again? Pika something?”

“You may call me Kurapika,” he answers formally, left with no other way to put some distance between them.

Leorio gives him a thumbs up and a huge grin. “Nice! We’ll make a world champion haggler out of you yet!”

Kurapika sighs. “Leorio, can you take care of the rest of these auction items for me while I’m away?”

“Sure, Sunshine! Leave it to me!” Leorio answers confidently.

“I’d better go now,” the soft-spoken person borrowing Kurapika’s chair tells Leorio. “I very much enjoyed the music,” they add, addressing Pairo while waving one finger back and forth in the air, like a pendulum. “My name is Senritsu, and I would love to keep in touch. You sound beautiful together.”

Something about the way they said it makes Kurapika suspect that Senritsu wasn’t only talking about their folk song. At least someone caught the hint, even if Neon is deliberately choosing not to.

Pairo must have caught the same hint, because now he’s blushing a little. “Aw, thank you! I’m Pairo, nice to meet you too!”

“I guess that makes you one of us now!” the burly mustached man claps Kurapika on the back. Oof, he’s strong. “Welcome to the Nostrade family. My name’s Basho, nice to meet you!”

“As in, the Nostrade Mafia family?” Pairo interjects. “Oh, Kurapika, what have you gotten yourself into this time!? I’m not letting you go alone!”

“It’s just sewing clothes, right? How hard could it be?” says Kurapika.

“The boss did say he was still looking for more bodyguards, if you’re interested,” Senritsu tells Kurapika and Pairo. Lowering their voice so that only Kurapika can hear, they add, “Skills like yours would certainly make our job a lot easier.”

“Um.” Well that certainly changes the equation. Kurapika switches to Kuruta, already dreading his next phone call home. “Please don’t tell my mom until this is over.”

Chapter Text

* POV: Squala *

Linssen has phoned ahead to let the rest of the bodyguard team know that Miss Neon is back on her way back to their suite at the Hotel Beitacle. So far, no harm has been done, but every single day while they are in York Shin City, there is a bullseye on Miss Neon’s back. All Squala has to do is make it through one more assignment, until the family is once again safely ensconced in their secluded manor an airship ride away, and Squala will finally have enough money in the bank to resign, get married to Eliza, and retire peacefully in the countryside together with all of his dogs.

According to Linssen, Basho and Senritsu are on their way back with reinforcements: two potential new bodyguards who have yet to be put to the test. Linssen’s orders are clear: Squala and his dogs are to act as the first line of defense. Squala hates having to put his beloved pets in danger like this, but if he doesn’t want to end up turned into a screaming painting by the boss, he really has no other choice. So Squala gathers together his squadron of canines, stations them in each corner of the hotel lobby out of the immediate line of sight of the entrance, behind potted plants and the front desk, and orders them to target any strangers who arrive with Miss Neon’s group. After that, all he can do is wait, watch through their eyes, and pray that all of his dogs will come back to him alive today.

His first target comes through the revolving doors, bringing up the rear of the group that arrived with Miss Neon, impossible to miss in bright yellow and purple through canine vision. His second target arrives through a wheelchair accessible side door, then rejoins the group. As Miss Neon, Senritsu, and Basho enter the elevator from the lobby, instructed to leave the other two behind until Dalzollene can greet them personally, Squala launches his attack.

Barking dogs with snapping jaws surround their new targets from all directions. The newcomers react quickly, stopping their attackers by lifting them into the air with a coil of dark vines and a bright cocoon made from pieces of paper. Try as they might, neither of Squala’s dogs are able to break free.

As Dalzollene arrives in the lobby, he contacts Squala to call the dogs off. Squala ends the attack orders. The dogs stop struggling. Still wary, the two newcomers release them as Dalzollene greets them.

Squala orders his dogs to gather in the elevator, push the button up to his floor, then sit. It’s a promising sign when none of them limp or remain motionless on their way across the lobby. He holds his breath as the elevator slowly climbs upward, then slides open. Each dog gathers in an orderly semicircle around Squala’s hotel room door, politely knocking on the door with their paws.

Squala opens the door, greeted by a squadron of wagging tails. There isn’t a single scratch on any of his animal companions. Thank goodness! Squala could almost cry with relief. He doesn’t mind being showered with doggy kisses, even though he will have to wash all the drool off his face afterward.

They haven’t even met face to face yet, but Squala decides he likes the newcomers already. Light Nostrade hires bodyguards for their strength, but the absence of unnecessary cruelty stands out as a shining beacon in the dark underbelly of the mafia world.

* POV: Dalzollene *

They may have passed the first test, but can these two hold their own against Dalzollene’s sword fighting skills one on one? Introductions are exchanged, then Dalzollene explains that they still have not earned the right to meet the boss yet until he tests each of them in a fight.

“Here? Now?” Asks Kurapika, already looking bored with the entire process.

Dalzollene draws his sword, showing off his strength with an intimidating display of Ren. “Shall I take this to mean that you are volunteering to go first?”

“Sure, sure, let’s get this over with,” answers Kurapika as he draws his own pair of wooden swords. “The part I don’t understand is why all of you are making me jump through hoops when all Neon asked me for was to make a dress for her.”

Dalzollene responds and attacks at the same time. “We cannot allow anyone to approach Miss Neon without going through our rigorous testing process first. Everyone who is not our ally is an enemy.” That’s all the conversation Dalzollene has the breath for before he has to concentrate on his fighting much more seriously.

Kurapika, on the other hand, has no such trouble. “Even for temporary contracts? It must be stressful to live your whole life always on high alert.” Although Kurapika is clearly a Conjurer based on his previous defense against Squala’s dogs, he doesn’t even break a sweat against Dalzollene’s Shu. An experienced sword fighter, Kurapika only uses enough aura to keep his swords from breaking in the face of Dalzollene’s assault. The rest of his counterattacks and parries come from his own natural strength.

“You should take a vacation sometime,” Kurapika suggests conversationally as he disarms Dalzollene almost without trying.

“You pass,” Dalzollene pants as he takes a moment to catch his breath. He picks his sword back up and turns to Pairo next. “Your turn.”

Except, when Dalzollene tries to attack Pairo, his feet are frozen to the floor. Looking down with Gyo, he discovers that Pairo has hidden his shadow vines with In, coiling them around both of Dalzollene’s legs.

“Thank you for announcing your intentions out loud, it really helps!” Pairo chirps cheerfully.

Dalzollene can’t tell whether Pairo is being sincere or insulting. Either way, Dalzollene has to concede his defeat. “Very well. You both pass. I will lead the way to the boss and we can work out the terms of our temporary contract from there.”

* POV: Light Nostrade *

After the fortunes of no fewer than three mafia bosses warned of death and destruction in the days ahead, Light Nostrade was convinced that it would be too dangerous to allow Neon to attend the Southernpiece Auction in person, no matter how much she screams and cries about it, and no matter how much money he has to spend to get back into her good graces.

That is, until he asked Neon to predict the future for Light Nostrade himself. These four brief stanzas have never stopped haunting him ever since.

Encased on all sides by towering walls
Only darkness can reach the blind one
Who has lost sight of what is important.
Drink cannot drown your sorrow.

A seedling can only grow as large
As the pot suffocating its roots.
Time is the most precious commodity of all.
Spend wisely, for it cannot be replaced.

Although its stem appears to shrink away,
The leaves press desperately against the window panes.
The budding flower withers from neglect.
Water gently, lest its petals be carried away in the flood.

Danger lurks without, more than it lies within.
Three times out of four, the ninth month will be dedicated to mourning,
Soon after the ink runs dry.
Seek the scarlet moons, for they may yet turn the tides.

Light Nostrade stands to lose everything. His daughter, his only child, the last remaining reminder of her mother, will be dead by the end of the month. All the money and status in the world mean nothing with no future to pass them on to. And worst of all, there is almost nothing Light can do about it. Regardless of whether he allows her to attend the auction or not, Neon’s life is in grave danger.

There is so little time left! Like a fool, Light has been squandering the last precious moments he could have been spending with his daughter on business deals and political posturing.

No more.

Light will allow Neon to buy everything she wants at the Southernpiece Auction in person for herself. He will come with her personally. Light will spend every jenny on his daughter, if that’s what it takes to make her happy.

When all she asks for is his company, Light Nostrade promises to spend the whole day with his daughter. And this time, he means it.

Neon begs him to push her around on a giant inflatable pool float at the swimming pool in their hotel, just like when she was so much smaller.

Then she gets hungry, and all Neon wants is to eat greasy burgers together at a cheap fast food joint.

For dessert, she tugs him to the nearest passing ice cream vendor at Dayroad Park, where Light allows himself to be roped into throwing Frisbees back and forth between Neon and all of Squala’s dogs.

Was it always this simple to put a smile on Neon’s face, for hardly any money at all?

For one glorious, sunny day, Light has ho regrets.

If this auction lands him in his grave, so be it.

If this auction lands Neon in her grave, this day will be the way he wants to remember her.

But until the day some monster swoops in to take Neon away from him, Light will cling to the only hope he has left.

Could the scarlet moons refer to a person? How on Earth can he find this person among millions of buyers and sellers descending upon York Shin City for the auction?

If the scarlet moons are meant to protect his daughter, Light has a hunch.

He asks Neon to tell the fortunes of each one of his new bodyguards.

In exchange, she wants another day just like this one. Light is only too happy to oblige.

* POV: Lovely Ghostwriter *

Baise

Welcome to your final assignment,
Where your fate has been sealed with a kiss.
Your blood soaked tombstone will find you
Before you receive your next paycheck.

Though he may act as your shield
The body of a man is no match for piercing hail.
Your reflexes are good enough to dodge one foe
But not the attack that follows from behind.

Remain close to the exits.
Flee at the first sign of danger.
Seek a stronger shelter.
Or better yet, stay well away, above ground.

Basho

Life is beautiful.
Stop and smell the roses.
Listen to the triumphant lilt of birdsong
Before the day you will need to stopper your ears.

You enjoy your life and strive to spark joy in others.
Kindred spirits will join your journey
Although the path is paved with blood on either side.
A burden shared is a burden halved.

As you emerge from the darkness
Some of your candles will no longer burn
Blown out one by one
At a wedding or a funeral.

Remain optimistic
But remain vigilant
For the moment your charge slips from your sight
Disaster will strike.

Senritsu

A gnarled and twisted tree trunk
Grows new shoots from its roots in distress.
Nevertheless, there is still something beautiful to be seen
In the growth rings and homes for songbirds.

Be wary of swift death masked by silence
For not all puppets will dance from your strings.
Surround yourself with hearing ears and seeing eyes;
There is strength in numbers.

The fierce heart,
The wise heart,
And the gentle heart:
Each will have their turn to drum the loudest.

Pairo

Lightning once split the sapling in half
Yet still it sprouts new branches
Sporting verdant leaves and fragrant blossoms.
Defiant, its spirit remains unbroken.

Facing down the harlot is mere child’s play
In the face of lawless bandits.
Descending into twilight
The scarlet moon emerges from dark clouds.

Kurapika

Deep within the forest, an egg hatches.
A fallen chick pleads for its mother.
A fledgling peers down from its nest and hesitates.
Against all odds, it learns how to fly.

Once more, you face down a craggy mountain
With fists that can grind bones to dust.
Paper beats rock,
But only under the scarlet moon.

* POV: Kurapika *

Uh. What was that about?

The instant their new boss lays eyes on Kurapika’s and Pairo’s fortunes, his face goes pale and his hands go white, gripping the papers each poem is written on so tightly that they threaten to tear apart.

Then he keeps throwing money at them, begging them to stay beyond the end of the auction.

On the one hand, a salary of four hundred million jenny per day each from now until September 10th is nothing to sneeze at- double what Kurapika could have earned at Heavens Arena in a day before learning nen.

On the other hand, even between his earnings, Pairo’s earnings, the dress, and the remaining auction items, they may still only end up scraping together just enough money for the opening bid on a single copy of Greed Island by the time the Southernpiece Auction officially kicks off – and that’s before they split up and share the profits. He can only hope that Gon and Killua can come up with some ideas to make more money, fast.

Then there’s the fact that no matter how hard Light negotiates, there’s no point in sticking around past the auction. How are they supposed to satisfy their curiosity about Greed Island and join Gon and Killua if they’re too busy working to even play?

Finally, Light Nostrade only gives up on negotiating any higher, hanging his head and muttering about going bankrupt. He signs both of their contracts without looking up at them, making no move to tell them that they are dismissed.

Kurapika and Pairo exchange an awkward look with each other, shrugging, and quietly slip out of the office in the boss’s hotel suite.

After talking to the boss, it’s time to meet the rest of their bodyguard colleagues. The best way to coordinate efforts will be to share their abilities with each other. Kurapika describes each colleague’s appearance to Pairo as they talk to each of them one by one.

First, they meet Squala, who is very grateful that neither Kurapika nor Pairo hurt any of his dogs during their initial test. Now under more relaxed circumstances, meeting in a lounge area on their floor, all of his dogs surround him in various states of alertness or sprawling on the floor with lazily wagging tails. A tiny gray dog with ears and a tail that look like little white mops comes up to sniff curiously at Kurapika and Pairo’s feet. Pairo smiles down at it, allowing the dog to jump up into his lap so he can pet it.

Squala has been on the Nostrade staff for years, senior to the newer recruits but junior to their immediate supervisor Dallzolene. He is a Manipulator like Pairo, but judging by the strength of his aura, his nen is relatively weak. Kurapika keeps this observation to himself for now.

Next, there is Shachmono, who joined the Nostrade staff around the same time as Squala. Also a Manipulator, he describes his ability to transform balloons into a small army of allies armed with swords and guns. Much like Gido’s spinning tops, each nen construct is only able to perform simple attacks. With the large amount of aura required to create eleven human sized combatants, each one is strong against normal human attacks but weak against other nen users.

Dalzollene, whom the entire group has already met, is stronger than both of his subordinates. An Enhancer, he can handle being hit by ten bullets without suffering any damage.

They only briefly meet the senior bodyguard Linssen, who is Dalzollene’s boss and splits his duties between guarding Neon and guarding Light Nostrade.

Lastly, there are the new recruits. It’s Kurapika and Pairo’s first time meeting Baise. Senritsu and Basho are familiar faces, but hearing about their abilities is new.

Basho is a poet who can make any haiku come true. The better the haiku he can compose on the fly, the more pronounced the effects. An experienced hunter, his aura feels stronger and more refined than Pairo’s.

Senritsu is: A Music Hunter with supernatural hearing abilities. An Emitter. A flutist whose performance transforms the entire atmosphere of the hotel lounge into a breezy meadow full of flowers. Kurapika could listen to Senritsu for hours, if the song wasn’t only three minutes long.

There’s never a tactful way to ask the question on Kurapika’s mind, so he barrels right ahead. “Hey Senritsu, I hope you don’t mind me asking since I get the same question so often myself. Do I call you ‘he’, or…?”

“She,” Senritsu answers, looking mildly resigned.

“I’ll remember that,” Kurapika promises.

Senritsu peers up at him. “And you?”

“He,” Kurapika clarifies.

And Baise is, you guessed it, yet another Manipulator. Four of them in one room! What are the chances?

“One kiss, and I can make any man into my slave,” Baise tells Kurapika with a smug grin on her face. “Dare to give it a try?”

Squala clears his throat, blushes, and averts his eyes.

Basho crosses his arms in the shape of a letter X in front of his face, silently mouthing don’t do it in Kurapika’s direction.

“Oh yeah?” Well now Kurapika has to find out what this is all about! He crosses both arms over his chest and grins defiantly. “That won’t work on me because I’m gay!”

Comfortable enough in their relationship not to be bothered by a kiss that doesn’t belong to him, Pairo isn’t about to stop Kurapika from making a fool of himself. Instead Pairo looks up, grinning, from introducing himself to every single one of Squala’s dogs, and focuses Gyo into his eyes. “This, I have to see. Pika, I hope you know that I’m betting against you.”

“Ha!” Baise laughs, looking from Kurapika to Pairo and back. “Your boyfriend, right? What a good sport.”

As Baise leans in to press her glossy lips against Kurapika’s, he is left with the dizzying scent of strawberries lingering in his nostrils. Her aura floods into his limbs and takes over, drowning Kurapika’s senses in a haze of euphoria. No one else exists. There is only Baise. Kurapika is vaguely aware of his vision shifting red- a minor, unimportant detail.

Baise kissed him. The instant her lips pull away, he feels bereft. He would do anything for just one more touch. He would face down the tallest cliffs for her. He would lie down and make himself into a bridge for her to walk across. She could order him directly off the edge, and it would be worth it.

“Entertain us,” Baise orders. “Give me three laps around the four corners of this room, hopping like a frog.”

So far away from his queen? Kurapika shall simply have to endure this torment, because Baise wishes it so. The steady weight of her gaze on him is his only consolation. Upon completion of his third circuit, he eagerly returns to her side, already starving for the sound of her voice.

Ah, cruel fate! Her next command takes Kurapika even farther away from her touch. “Climb up to the chandelier and hang upside down from it, then I will give you a reward.”

It isn’t that easy to comply, but Kurapika will do what he must. Conjuring several pages of Dino Hunter, he uses them as a staircase to reach all the way to the ceiling. Dangling from both legs like a large ornament, he doesn’t move until his master’s voice reaches his ears once again.

“Fetch me a chair, my pet,” Baise commands. Of course only the finest will do. Using his conjured pages to lower himself back to the ground, Kurapika selects the most comfortable looking armchair from across the room to bring back to her. Standing guard behind her, he does not relax until Baise daintily lowers herself into it, crossing one high heeled leg over her opposite knee.

Taking hold of Kurapika by the wrist, Baise guides Kurapika around to face her. “Sit,” she orders. “Stay.” She doesn’t even need to tug on his hands. Kurapika lowers himself to a kneeling position, looking up at Baise adoringly as he waits for her next command. Crossing her feet at the ankles, she uses Kurapika’s head as a footrest. “Good boy.”

Pure bliss. Kurapika’s life has never felt more complete.

Then Baise snaps her fingers, breaking the spell.

Kurapika furrows his eyebrows, blinking with confusion. Everything feels a bit fuzzy. Where is he? Why are his eyes scarlet? What’s so funny it has Pairo laughing himself to tears?

“I get the vague impression I was doing something important,” Kurapika ponders out loud.

Pairo can hardly breathe. He doubles over with a scream of laughter that makes all of Squala’s dogs scatter away from him.

“You can move now,” Baise tells him conversationally. “Or don’t, if that’s what you’re into.”

Oh. Her feet are resting on Kurapika’s head. Why does part of him still feel like this is good and natural and everything is right with the world?

Wait. “You said that ability only works on men, right?” Kurapika grins at Baise with newfound respect. “Did you know I used to be a little girl, once upon a time? I feel so validated right now.”

Another part of him feels… pretty frisky, actually. That would explain the eyes, at least.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure my boyfriend is getting enough oxygen.” Kurapika politely removes Baise’s feet from his person one by one, dusting himself off as he gets back up onto his feet.

“Earth to Pairo.” Kurapika tenderly wipes the tears from Pairo’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Are you alive?”

“Dead. Slain. You dummy!” Pairo leans into Kurapika’s touch, but his shoulders are still shaking with stray giggles.

Now that Pairo’s lap has been conveniently vacated by any and all dogs, Kurapika can snuggle up to him instead. “Whatever dumb thing I just did, I really don’t mind if it makes you laugh.”

“And what did we learn today?” Pairo scolds mildly, unable to stop smiling.

Never to underestimate Manipulation nen.

Also, Kurapika wouldn’t mind kissing a girl again.

Also...

“New things about myself, apparently,” answers Kurapika. Knowing full well Senritsu can still hear him, he switches to Kuruta and whispers in Pairo’s ear. “What if you boss me around a little tonight. Wouldn’t that be hot?”

Already flushed from laughing so hard, Pairo goes beet red with embarrassment. “Kurapika!” he exclaims, scandalized. He also switches to Kuruta, but he doesn’t bother to lower his voice. “ Seriously? You want me to be stern with you, like the Elder?”

“No, that’s the worst, why would you say that!?” Kurapika wails.

Now they both can’t stop laughing.

* Time Skip *

Over the next several days, Kurapika will be too busy keeping Neon busy to think about anything else than dresses and danger. She may be rich and spoiled and ill-tempered, but ever since his debriefing, Kurapika feels a little bit sorry for her. Thanks to her uncanny Specialist ability to predict the future, Light Nostrade treats her like a cash cow, not a daughter. She sees money as a way to purchase affection, because she was never taught any other way. What is the point of getting rich if you never use all that money to spend time with your loved ones? No wonder she is never satisfied!

Forgiving her is easy. By the time he is sitting with her, sketching out designs for her dress together, the disruption to Kurapika’s auction feels like it already happened a lifetime ago.

“So you’re thinking a formal gown to wear to the auction?” Kurapika asks as he illustrates a plunging back line down to the waist, and embroidered princess gloves that will go up all the way past Neon’s elbows.

“Yeah!” Neon claps her hands together. “Ooh, I like the gloves! What if we add lace in the back here? It would be so pretty!”

“Are you sure?” Kurapika frowns. “Lace is super itchy.” Has Kurapika mentioned how much he hates bras? Especially bras that think A-cups have an inferiority complex? No? Well. He’ll keep that thought to himself. “Remember, you’ll be wearing this dress all day.”

“Oh, good point,” Neon nods thoughtfully.

Kurapika taps his pencil against his chin, thinking out loud. “You’ll want something breathable and not too tight or heavy, because I bet it will be hot and stuffy with thousands of people all crammed into the auction house next to each other. Let’s keep you comfortable.”

“You want me to be comfortable,” Neon echoes. Abruptly, she lifts her head from looking at Kurapika’s drawing to stare at him instead. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Her question catches Kurapika off guard. “We’re working together now. This dress is more yours than mine. Neither of us are going to be happy with the result if we spend the entire time arguing back and forth, are we?”

“No, you’re right,” Neon trails off wistfully.

Listen. Neon’s broken family life is not Kurapika’s problem to fix. There’s a lesson in here somewhere; some story that he ought to write down for Pairo. Maybe it will leave Kurapika feeling less like there was nothing he could do when he leaves this place behind.

Kurapika turns his focus back to his work. From the waist down, he draws a floor-length dress that flares subtly around the base, slim enough to be elegant, but no so tight she will barely be able to move her legs. Gods forbid the situation ever calls for Neon to run; he will not be held responsible for a fashionable dress becoming her cause of death in the face of an attack. “How’s that? You can get away with wearing flat shoes if you want to. Nobody will notice unless you’re taking really big steps.”

“Can we add ruffles in the middle here?” Neon jabs her finger into the middle of the page.

Kurapika wrinkles his nose as he continues sketching. “Don’t you think ruffles are a little too over the top? It will make your dress look like a wedding cake. I was thinking a band of embroidery around the hem, to match the gloves. And more embroidery from the bust to the waist, here in front.”

Neon gasps, delighted. “Wow, you’re going to make me look like a real princess!”

“See? There is a method to my madness.” Kurapika smiles at her, satisfied. “Now let’s talk about colors.”

* POV: Pairo *

It’s not illegal to visit a city that is largely run by the mafia.

It’s not illegal to fleece a crowd of frenzied buyers with money to burn, even if all that money probably came from the mafia.

It’s not illegal to become a bodyguard for a company that does all their business above board and pays their taxes, even though their gambling den revenues may prey on innocent people who no longer have the self-control to set limits on their spending, and the rest of their considerable revenue comes from dispensing advice to other mafia families whose dealings may be less savory.

It’s not illegal to attend the Underground Auction, paying twelve million jenny per person for the privilege, nor is it illegal to buy human remains there, regardless of how they were obtained.

Nevertheless, Neon’s flesh collection crosses a line that makes Pairo want to leave this place as soon as humanly possible. Among other things, she proudly describes to him:

The preserved body of a male Bap warrior, covered from head to toe in large body piercings.

The child-sized skeleton of what had once been a pair of conjoined twins.

The tough, grotesquely swollen amputated hand of a patient suffering from Rhinophant Disease.

A board game commissioned by an ancient emperor, carved from the bones of his enemies, with human knuckle bones used as throwing dice.

By the time Neon begins to enthuse about the mummified remains she wants to bid on at this year’s auction, Pairo’s skin is crawling with disgust. He suppresses a shiver, struggles to keep his expression neutral, and doesn’t say a word.

Neon loves attention in the form of showing off her acquisitions to any new face within the Nostrades’ inner circle. She doesn’t care whether it inspires awe, admiration, or horror. All she wants is to be seen.

Does she even realize how much human suffering such a market for human oddities could create for the right amount of money? Does she care? Did the sellers of these human remains obtain them with permission from their families? Was it legal to export them from their home countries? Shouldn’t the archaeological findings be in a museum instead of a private collection, where their history, culture, and diets can be studied by scientists? And what about these medical samples? As long as they are hidden away from doctors and researchers, no one will ever be able to use them to try to find a cure.

Neon generally ignores Pairo like she does with the majority of the household staff, which is perfectly fine by Pairo. Both Pairo and Kurapika agree on one simple plan: get in, do their jobs to the best of their ability, then get out. First and foremost, he’s here to watch Kurapika’s back. The money comes in a distant second. You can’t spend a single jenny when you’re dead!

“Hey Kurapika,” Pairo whispers to him in Kuruta at the nearest opportunity when they get to speak alone. “Has the boss’s daughter shown you her collection? Isn’t she exactly the kind of person Elder Tapikt was always afraid we would meet Outside one day?”

“I don’t think she’s like that on purpose. Her father doesn’t let her have any friends her age. She’s lonely.” Pairo can’t believe Kurapika is defending her!

Pairo shakes his head emphatically, grabbing hold of both of Kurapika’s arms for emphasis. “That’s because she doesn’t see any of us as people! I don’t know about you, but as long as we’re staying here, I’m never taking my contacts off. Not even in my sleep.”

* POV: Senritsu *

Tonight, Senritsu is on the graveyard shift again, this time with a new partner to join her vigil. Beside her, Pairo is very quiet, mulling over the day’s events. Without Kurapika’s answering rhythm to ground him, his steady heartbeat carries an edge of unease as he stares into the night.

“Your heartbeat sounds like there’s something bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?” Senritsu asks without preamble in her kindest, softest voice.

Pairo sighs, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard by anyone else. “A few things, actually. Don’t you think Miss Neon’s collection is super creepy? Doesn’t it make you feel like you could be the next specimen in a jar? I mean... you metaphorically. But for me…” He swallows, nervous. “You could tell how my heartbeat and my aura were different when Kurapika was making me laugh, right? Kurapika’s too. We’re from the Kuruta clan. In the past, some of us have called our family monsters because our eyes turn scarlet and we become much stronger whenever we are experiencing strong emotions. I’m actually wearing darkened contacts, because I really don’t want to find out what happens if someone like Miss Neon ever sees my eyes changing color.”

“No, I understand completely. That eerie collection was actually the reason I sought employment with the Nostrades, specifically,” Senritsu admits in a hushed tone. “I thought that if they possessed or had connections to... certain human remains, it could give me the clues to track down the sheet music that cursed my friend to death when I was a music student at the Yorbian Conservatory.”

She has only known Pairo for a short time, but long enough to decide that she likes and trusts him. “I only heard the flute part of the Sonata of Darkness, and it was enough to permanently curse me too. I want to burn every copy of the sheet music for every instrument until it can never harm anyone again.” With cautious trepidation, Senritsu lowers her sleeve to show Pairo the tiniest sliver of permanent scarring.

Nothing. No reaction at all. “Cursed? What happened?” Pairo asks, concerned.

“You can’t see my wrist?” Senritsu asks, whispering.

Pairo shakes his head, resigned. “My eyesight isn’t very good.”

She holds her arm out to him, letting Pairo trace his fingers across dry, warped flesh. Pairo sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes widening in shock. “Are you alright?” he asks, worried. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not anymore,” Senritsu answers sadly. Right now, she can’t feel his touch at all.

“I’m sorry,” says Pairo, taking hold of her hand so he can squeeze it in sympathy. That, Senritsu can still feel.

“Don’t be,” Senritsu responds with a remorseful smile. “We were young and drunk and overconfident. We should have known better.”

“Your hunt sounds really tough and dangerous. I hope you can find it all,” Pairo sympathizes.

“That is, if we survive the auction! I’m really worried something bad is about to happen,” Pairo continues. “It sounds like there will be a big fight, and some of us are in real danger of dying. I can’t tell if it was a bad idea for Kurapika and me to come here, or if it was going to happen either way no matter what we do. Didn’t you see it in your fortune too?”

“We all did,” Senritsu confirms. “If it makes you feel any better, Miss Neon’s fortunes always include advice that gives everyone who received an ill omen a chance to escape from their fate. Based on his own fortune, Mister Light seemed convinced that you and Kurapika are the key to keeping Miss Neon safe. I think that gives all of us better odds.”

Pairo does not seem reassured. “So my fortune has faith in me. Yay, I guess? How am I supposed to be prepared when I have no idea what we’re up against?”

“We’re a team now.” Senritsu gently touches his shoulder. “The best we can do is play to each other’s strengths.”

“Try telling that to Dalzollene,” Pairo grumbles. “If he cared about anything other than flaunting his seniority, he wouldn’t have put me on the night shift. To be honest, I feel kinda useless out here pretending to be on guard when you can hear anyone coming from much farther away than I can, and I can barely see anything at all when it’s this dark. I’ve been working on a new nen ability to try and get around it, but if this big fight happens in only a few days, I don’t know if I have enough time.”

“If you make your case to Dalzollene, there’s still time to convince him to come up with a new plan and split us up in different groups before the auction. In the mean time, you can use this time to practice while we are on duty, if you’d like,” Senritsu offers. “I don’t mind keeping an eye out for danger, as long as you’re still here to keep me company and back me up.”

“Yeah,” Pairo agrees, grateful. “Ever since I lost to Hisoka at Heavens Arena, I can use all the practice I can get!”

Chapter Text

* POV: Pairo *

Light Nostrade has announced a change of plans. Where normally the Southernpiece Auction takes place in the York Shin Auction House, this year the grim fortunes predicted by Lovely Ghostwriter for Light Nostrade’s clients among the mafia and the wealthy York Shin elite have prompted the organizers to tighten security by merging the Southernpiece Auction with the Underground Auction. Supposedly the Cemetery Building’s towering steel and bullet proof glass walls will make buyers and sellers safer, while its thick iron vault will make the combined auction items easier to guard until each piece takes its turn to be displayed on the main stage. But no matter how many police officers and security guards they scatter around the perimeter, Pairo can’t help shake the feeling that with nen, anything is possible.

The Underground Auction literally takes place underground, in a dimly lit basement auditorium where he is surrounded by the murmuring voices and unfamiliar auras of thousands of people. Pairo, who can’t see any better here than he could on the rooftop in the middle of the night, has his arm linked with Kurapika’s as he rolls his wheelchair forward one-handed through the lobby. Thank goodness the Nostrade bodyguards had enough Manipulators on their team (and a very stubborn Kurapika) that they managed to convince Dalzollene to reshuffle the configuration of their guard assignments for this event!

Linssen serves as their main point of contact should they lose sight of each other, parked just outside as their getaway driver in case of an emergency. Squala and Shachmono, with their weaker nen better suited for surveillance, and Baise, following the advice from her grim fortune, are stationed outside, guarding the perimeter of the building. Senritsu, with her heightened ability to hear everything from near and far away, and at risk of being overwhelmed by noise in the event of a loud fight, is stationed at the entrance. From there, she can pass information along from the surveillance team on the outside and the guard team inside the building.

Indoors, Dalzollene will be seated directly at Light Nostrade’s left hand side, positioned to guard and take orders from him. Miss Neon will be seated beside her father on the right. And Basho, Kurapika and Pairo, as the strongest nen users in their group, will be seated together in the rows in front of and behind their employers, ready to shield them from any direction. Light has made it clear that guarding Miss Neon is the priority. He would rather take a bullet himself than let her die.

On that sobering note, Pairo takes a moment to discreetly scan the crowd around them with Gyo. The vast majority of the mafia representatives all around them are not initiated nen users. However, several people’s smooth, intimidating auras stand out like pinpricks of bright light among this sea of fragile human life. They could be the bodyguards of other families. They could be hired assassins. Or, they could just as easily be the biggest threat to the Nostrade contingent. Pairo will have to keep one uneasy eye on them throughout the auction. The fact that no weapons are allowed in the Cemetery Building hardly makes a difference.

One particular group of bright auras catches Pairo’s eye: a tall head sticking out above most of the crowd, flanked by two shorter figures whose personalities are nevertheless forceful enough to make people part in either direction around them. He would recognize his friends anywhere.

A wide smile blossoms across Pairo’s face. “Leorio! Gon! Killua!”

It’s hard for them to see him waving while he is seated and everyone else is standing, waiting to make it past security and the ticketing ushers, but between Pairo’s eager voice and Kurapika joining in on the waving, they manage to catch Leorio’s attention easily enough. There is just enough time to catch up for a few minutes before work pulls them apart for the duration of the auction.

“Hi Pairo! Hi Kurapika!” Gon greets cheerfully.

Killua approaches with a casual slouch in his posture. “Yo.”

“Hey, nice suits!” Kurapika greets the boys. Pairo and Kurapika are also dressed in their best, wearing heavily embroidered formal robes to the auction, complete with matching strands of beads braided into their hair. Kurapika’s voice takes on a smug grin as he looks Leorio up and down. “Why, Leorio, I’m touched. You decided to wear the vest I made for you.”

“When else was I ever supposed to wear anything this fancy?” Leorio sputters, flustered. “It would have been a total waste to leave it gathering dust in the closet after all the effort you put into it!”

“Does that mean you’re planning to attend the auction too?” asks Pairo.

“Nah,” Leorio answers with a shrug. “I didn’t want to spend twelve million on a catalog when I’m not planning to actually buy anything. I’m just here for moral support.”

Pairo lowers his voice, beckoning Leorio, Gon, and Killua closer. “Leorio, I wouldn’t stick around too closely, if I were you. Our boss’s daughter has a fortune telling ability, and it predicted some kind of big, dangerous fight that could happen any day now. There are some strong nen users here today, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Even I’m not sure I’ve had enough time to train against a situation like this.”

“Shit,” Leorio hisses quietly. “I don’t want you getting hurt either. I’d better stay here in the lobby in case someone needs medical attention.”

Pairo sighs. At least that sounds slightly less dangerous than joining everyone in the auction hall. “Are you sure?”

“Dead serious,” Leorio confirms. “I became a Hunter to help people, and I’m not about to back down now!”

“Just be careful,” Pairo warns. There’s no sense pressing any further, when neither of them know exactly what the danger is, or when it’s going to start.

Kurapika changes to the next most pressing subject. “So how did the rest of the flea market go? Let’s count up our pooled money and see what we have to work with.”

“Did you know you can find the best auction items using Gyo?” Gon begins to explain with great enthusiasm. “We met an art forger named Zepile who taught us how to break treasure out of the side of a pot!”

Killua elbows Gon in the ribs. “Later, Gon. The auction is about to start.”

So they hurry up and do the math, which is Gon’s least favorite subject. Pairo and Kurapika’s funds add up to about eight billion jenny. Gon and Killua managed to buy and sell high quality items in the flea market for another two hundred and fifty million. Leorio managed to sell the rest of Kurapika’s auction items for about another billion, which Killua then managed to double to two billion essentially by gambling. Not exactly an approved method! If the Elder hears about this, they’ll give him heart palpitations. Maybe it’s better to omit a few details when they recount their latest adventure.

“We’re at roughly ten billion,” Kurapika summarizes. “Hopefully enough to buy one copy of Greed Island if we don’t get outbid. Then at least you will be able to follow the clues Ging left you,” he tells Gon.

“I won’t give up!” Gon insists. “There has to be a way Killua and you and Pairo can come with us too! I have an idea. After the auction is over, we should talk to the people who buy up all the copies and find out what they want to do with them all.”

* POV: Senritsu *

Squala, Shachmono, and Baise are keeping watch over their surroundings from up on the rooftops of the low rise buildings near the Cemetery Building, near enough that Senritsu can still hear the faint drumming of their heartbeats from where she is standing at street level, but far enough that they need a visual sign to hear her. They have developed a system to keep in touch without having to rely on the slow process of dialing each other’s phones: whisper to pass along intelligence to Senritsu at regular intervals, and she will adjust her posture accordingly.

Standing still means there is no news. Adjusting the angle of her hat means she wants a status update: left hand for Baise, right hand for Shachmono, both hands for Squala. Waving her hat in the air as if she is trying to flag down a taxi means imminent danger. Senritsu signals to each of them at regularly scheduled intervals.

Ten minutes stretch into twenty at an agonizing crawl. By the time Senritsu checks in with Squala for the sixth time, only at the half hour mark, it already feels like she has been waiting for disaster to strike for an entire lifetime.

In contrast with Senritsu’s nerves, Squala’s heartbeat remains calm and steady. “My dogs haven’t seen anything unusual,” he confirms in a whisper, scanning through the eyes of each pet as they roam along the nearby streets. “Hear anything?”

Senritsu can hear the ever-present background roar of city life all around her, as if York Shin has a heartbeat of its own. She hears the sigh of the wind. She hears birds chirping in the branches of a scrawny tree planted in the sidewalk two blocks away. She hears wheels on pavement, the honking impatience of taxis, the hydraulic sigh of a bus kneeling for a young mother with a baby in a stroller. She hears hundreds of footsteps and hundreds of heartbeats steadily approaching the Cemetery Building, soon to pour through the double doors into the lobby.

In short, all sounds that she expected to hear.

Among thousands of overlapping harmonies, it’s so easy to get carried away and distracted. To listen for anything out of the ordinary, Senritsu must hone her focus. Cupping her hands around both ears, Senritsu closes her eyes and listens.

There. Something sounds wrong.

Four, five, six pairs of feet running along glass windows, defying gravity. The gasps of astonished spectators. The loud metallic crunch of a crumpled front bumper on a car, followed by a string of curses and insults from its driver.

The swearing cuts off with a gurgle.

The bystanders begin to scream and run away in all directions.

The footsteps are coming this way, faster than the cars on the street!

Senritsu’s eyes snap open as she fishes her phone out of her pocket, hastily dialing Kurapika with her right hand as she waves her hat five times with her left. “Kurapika! I can hear six nen users approaching, killing bystanders on their way here. They’re not even bothering to hide! Warn Mr. Nostrade and evacuate with Miss Neon as soon as you can. They’ll be here any minute!”

* POV: Kurapika *

Any minute? Then there may not be enough time to get the bosses past the crowd of other mafia members, out of the building and safely into the car with Linssen, without encountering the enemy head on. Not even if Kurapika picks up Neon and carries her away through the crush of the crowd, while she kicks and screams and fights against leaving the auction the entire time.

Think fast, Kurapika. What’s the best way to keep her safe?

“Mister Nostrade, Miss Neon, we’re about to be under attack. Stay behind me until we find an opening to leave,” cautions Kurapika as he sets up a wall of conjured pages as a barrier. In front of them, Kurapika can see Shachmono’s Eleven Black Children materializing as an additional line of defense just outside the glass doors of the auction hall. “Which direction are they coming from?” asks Kurapika over the phone, succinct and businesslike.

“They’re spreading out in all directions,” Senritsu answers in a hushed, worried tone. She must be trying not to call attention to herself. “They could smash through the walls. Be prepared for anything!”

“There could be more of them planted here in the crowd already. I sensed a few nen users here before us when we arrived,” adds Pairo grimly. By unspoken agreement, he moves to guard all of their backs. Then Pairo switches to Kuruta. “Cloaks?” he asks.

“Can’t. Are your eyes scarlet?” Kurapika asks him in response, even though he’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt a strong surge of aura from Pairo.

Pairo shakes his head, frowning. “Nervous, but not yet. Yours?”

Kurapika shrugs. “Me neither.” Until they’ve seen what the enemy is capable of, there’s no reason to panic.

The first sign of trouble begins outside in the courtyard when a tall, slender swordsman cuts though all of Shachmono’s nen dolls in seconds like they’re flimsy cardboard cutouts. Then again, that doesn’t really mean much, considering that Basho boasted of being able to punch them into disintegration without having to resort to his Hatsu at all.

Then the double doors to the lobby burst open with a bang, and the entire width of the doorway fills up with the silhouette of one single enormous man.

Taller than Leorio.

Three times as wide.

His aura is more menacing than Hisoka’s.

So is the swordsman’s. So is the aura of the burly bulldozer of a man headbutting through the east wall with a raucous laugh. Same for their tiny, vicious companion, even shorter than Senritsu, who just casually kicked the back door off its hinges. See also: the blond in a tracksuit with no eyebrows who punched a sizable hole into the west wall and doesn’t stop punching from there. And then there’s the pink-haired woman disdainfully leaning against the ruins of the west wall, filing her nails with an air of boredom as she barely pays attention to the carnage in front of her.

“Six Hisokas!?” Kurapika murmurs incredulously, still in Kuruta.

“Uh oh,” Pairo comments far too politely, given this particular situation.

“Oh shit,” Kurapika corrects for him.

Maybe now is the time to panic.

* POV: Neon *

Finally the doors to the auction hall have opened! Neon can’t wait to push her way out of all these boring people talking about their boring business deals and get to her seat! She tugs at her daddy’s sleeve with the full force of her impatience.

Let’s go! Let’s go!

Princess Coroco, here I come!

Then Kurapika throws one arm in front of Neon to stop her in her tracks. What’s going on? Did Daddy lie about letting Neon attend the auction after all? Is this so called ‘attack’ yet another excuse to ruin all of Neon’s fun, that Daddy will then try to paper over by letting her buy another pile of dresses?

Well, it isn’t going to work!

Neon takes a deep breath, gearing up to cry and swing her fists and stomp her feet until she gets exactly what she wants!

Suddenly, the doors and walls explode all around them! Oh wow, is this real? It looks just like an action movie!

As the mafia’s gathered security guards surge toward the intruders, a short man draws a sword from the handle of an umbrella. A towering beast of a man, all muscles and wild hair and animal skins, starts swinging his fists left and right, grinning and roaring with wicked glee. Biggest of all, the giant man with a scarred face and dangling earlobes lifts both hands like a puppeteer, or perhaps a piano player. Then the tips of each of his fingers falls off, dangling from the second knuckle, as they reveal ten hidden machine guns. The giant man mows down the security guards in front of him in a shower of blood. Then he turns his spray of bullets on everyone else.

Neon isn’t worried, as long as Kurapika is here to protect her. Right in front of Neon, the bullets tear through Kurapika’s magic wall of paper, but they still can’t make it past him as he shields her with his body, because he’s really strong! Even stronger than Dalzollene!

So handsome! So cool! She could stare at him all day. Watching Kurapika in action is almost enough to make up for the fact that these intruders are ruining the auction!

* POV: Kurapika *

Reinforcement is not Kurapika’s strong suit, but getting shot at with rapid fire nen bullets is a pretty strong incentive to fix that problem really fast! Preferably before his body ends up riddled with more holes than a kitchen sponge!

Blocking with a panicked burst of Ren all along the front of his body may not be elegant, but it works. Kurapika can only see in varying shades of a single color. Kurapika can barely hear the screams of the downed mafia members all around him over his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He holds his breath as he chances a glance away from their attackers to check if Pairo is okay, then exhales in a dizzy rush as Pairo glances right back at him, wide-eyed and with his aura exploding all around him like a firecracker.

“Well, my eyes weren’t scarlet before, but they sure are now!” Manically cheerful, Kurapika calls to Pairo over the melee.

“Oh thank goodness, you made it!” Visibly shaking himself off, Pairo gives Kurapika a thumbs up and a worried grin. “So. Cloaks?”

“Cloaks, right,” Kurapika echoes. “Gotta focus.”

Working themselves up into enough of an emotional state to change their eyes scarlet at the same time and then having to concentrate on synchronizing their nen, this skill was truly a pain in the ass to develop. It took months of practice to get it right, throughout the tail end of their stay at Izunavi’s cottage and refining it at Leorio’s apartment. But boy is Kurapika glad that they went to the trouble.

The idea came to them from among the many stories of Dino Hunter’s adventures: A cloak of protection, built from both of their powers while scarlet-eyed. Pairo’s shadows protect him, and in turn, Kurapika’s pages protect Pairo. Kurapika can conjure enough pages to manage up to four cloaks: one for himself, one for Pairo and his wheelchair, one for Neon, and one for Light Nostrade.

The cloak’s strength comes from its limitations. As long as the cloaks are conjured, Kurapika and Pairo can only use their nen for short range reinforcement. There’s a short time limit of only ten minutes, and even shorter if Kurapika or Pairo are rendered unconscious, unable to control their own actions because of manipulation nen, or their eyes are no longer scarlet. They need to work fast to get Neon and Mr. Nostrade out of here before their time runs out.

But there’s a big problem: their attackers have them surrounded and outgunned.

Dalzollene has been shot multiple times by the machine gun man. With reinforcement nen only strong enough to protect his vital organs, he has collapsed, bleeding heavily. It’s only a matter of time before he succumbs to his wounds. Kurapika can’t afford the nen to heal him until the fighting is over.

Gon and Killua have taken on the swordsman who made quick work of Shachmono’s nen puppets. The swordsman curses as Killua grabs hold of his katana, sending a jolt of electricity through the metal. Then Gon powers up an explosive punch and blasts the small of his back. Frazzled but still fighting, the swordsman looks like he can’t decide whether he is seriously annoyed or enjoying himself. Meanwhile, the pink-haired woman looks on disinterestedly from the west wall, rolling her eyes at her companion’s inability to manage two children.

Leorio, thankfully having dodged the machine gun man’s bullets, is now shouting and cursing at the very short man who keeps using the point of his umbrella to stab every downed mafia member who even remotely looks like they’re still breathing, before Leorio can even attempt to save them. Without nearly enough practice at nen to take on such a strong opponent, but angry and hotheaded enough to keep trying anyway, Leorio keeps swinging punches left and right that go comically wide as the very short man merely ducks underneath his every move. The very short man’s eyes crinkle with amusement, clearly playing with Leorio instead of fighting back. Too far out of reach, Kurapika can only pray that Leorio’s good luck holds out for long enough to keep the short man from getting bored and killing him instantly.

Fist for fist, Basho is poorly matched against the blond in a tracksuit, and is rapidly losing ground. Pairo barrels forward into the melee to even the odds, armed with nothing but his own fists and his wheelchair.

Where is the safest route to evacuate Neon and her father? Although the machine gun man has stopped firing lest his companions complain about friendly fire, the main entrance is a no go. If Kurapika leads them away from the main entrance, into the depths of the auction hall where there seems to be less active fighting, will it be a trap? At this point, he may not have much of a choice. He begins to herd his bosses toward the grand staircase beyond the ticketing agent and the coat check, praying for the best and bracing for the worst.

Kurapika doesn’t make it very far before he is intercepted by a towering, bulky form leaping directly into his path. It’s the bulldozer man from the east wall! He is about as tall but not quite as broad-shouldered as the machine gun man, and has a broad, toothy grin on his face, clearly itching for a fight. Seriously, what have these people been eating to grow so enormous!? His incoming opponent is dressed in a vest that barely counts as a shirt, a loincloth that covers his thighs, and boots that reach nearly up to his knees, all stitched together from furs. Kurapika looks up, and up, and up at a hairy chest, arms, and legs, bushy eyebrows, and a long, wild mane of hair.

Um.

This is probably not the right time to find him attractive.

“Hi,” Kurapika greets breathlessly from behind a blocked punch devastating enough to make the ground sink into a small crater beneath his feet. Thanks to his protective cloak, it doesn’t hurt him at all.

Pairo groans with exasperation. “Seriously, Pika?” Kurapika can’t afford to look away from the fight in front of him, but he can tell Pairo is rolling his eyes by the tone of his voice.

“I know, I know, judge me all you want! I totally deserve it!” Kurapika protests. It only took one syllable to incriminate him. While he’s at it, why not put his foot in his mouth even further? “Pairo. You need to see this guy I just started fighting. Picture someone four times more buff than Leorio. Arms like steel bands. Legs like tree trunks. Someone who could absolutely snap me in half,” Kurapika describes lovingly. “He’s wearing skins from big, furry animals that he could have easily wrestled to death with his beefy arms. How can I not stare at him when he’s basically half naked and his pecs are directly at eye level?”

“Wahahaha!” the bulldozer man throws his head back and roars with laughter. “You’re funny! I like you!”

* POV: Light Nostrade *

This is it. This is the moment Light Nostrade’s life ends. If this is how it must be, then Light wants to spend his final moments holding Neon close and telling her that he loves her, just as he did when she was a little girl. He wraps his arms around her tightly and closes his eyes against the oncoming hail of bullets.

Then Light Nostrade opens his eyes.

All around them, the lobby has descended into chaos and violence, yet somehow, miraculously, both Light and Neon are still alive. First blocking the gunfire with their Ren, Kurapika and Pairo cast a snug shield around Light and Neon’s bodies, rendering them completely impervious to bullets and punches alike.

Flirting with the enemy in the middle of a fight? Preposterous. These new youngsters on his security team may not conduct themselves in an entirely professional manner, but Light Nostrade cannot fault them for doing their jobs. He already owes them at least a short window of borrowed time where Dalzollene has failed, even if the outcome of the battle remains uncertain.

As soon as Light’s arms loosen from around her shoulders, Neon twists out of his grasp to watch the fighting. She is entertained and enthralled, cheering for Kurapika as if she is watching him on a stage.

What’s this? Neon’s aura is flaring, activated by the application of Kurapika and Pairo’s shield. Light will need to arrange nen lessons for her, for her own safety, on the slim hope that they really do survive all of this. More immediately, if she allows too much of it to escape, she will never be able to escape from the auction building under her own power.

Light Nostrade needs to gently shake his daughter to capture her attention. “Neon. Sweetheart. I need you to listen to me for a moment.”

Neon pouts up at him, scrunching her nose. “Aw, but Daddy, I want to watch! Everyone is glowing like fireworks!”

“Yes, darling, I know this is all very exciting, but this fight is very real, and very dangerous. That glow all around you is your aura, and it is the life energy that belongs to you and your Lovely Ghostwriter. If you let too much aura escape now, you will be weak and may not be able to walk or stay awake. Can you focus on your breathing, and gather your aura around you like a blanket?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Accompanied by a put upon sigh and a roll of her eyes, Neon deigns to listen without having to argue or bargain with him, just this once. She takes a deep breath. She furrows her eyebrows.

Mastering Ten comes to her easily. After all, she has already been using Lovely Ghostwriter for years.

“That’s my girl! I knew you could do it!” Light beams at her, his heart swelling with pride.

Neon tilts her head, confused. “The glow is gone? What was that? Do I have superpowers?”

“That was nen. I will explain later, there’s no time.”

The situation looks grim. All of Light Nostrade’s bodyguards are facing off against strong opponents. None can be spared. Yet the enemy is not taking this fight seriously, with at least three out of six toying with their prey or merely standing around, waiting until no one is left alive to oppose them. Although Light can conjure paintings leading to a nen space that can trap a person or an object, his own weak nen is a poor match for this battle. All he can do now is to trust in his fortune, and the scarlet moons.

* POV: Kuroro *

Two armed guards stand between Kuroro and the vault storing all of the Underground Auction’s treasures. While the other Spiders have their fun and provide a sensational distraction, the point of this little exercise will be to make sure that these guards report to their superiors that everything is normal and they have witnessed nothing wrong.

Shalnark has seen to it personally.

One of the guards is under the control of Black Voice, standing straight and tall and glassy-eyed at his post.

The other is having a friendly conversation with Pakunoda, who is flirting with him with one arm thrown around his shoulders as she plunders the vault’s security code from his memories. When Paku is finished, Chrollo flips through the pages of Skill Hunter to select the appropriate nen abilities to freeze the second guard in temporary stasis, then wipe his memories.

“The coast is clear, boss!” Shalnark’s tinny voice crackles over the portable radio of the guard on the right. “I hacked the security cameras! They’ll be on loop for the next hour.”

Coltopi nods and gives a thumbs up. He will have to work quickly to make his Gallery Fake copies before their time is up.

After that, it will be Shizuku’s turn. Her task is to suck up all the valuables, return to their temporary hideout, then turn Blinky on in reverse to spit out their stolen goods.

Over the course of this week, the auction will continue as planned, and the mafia members will be none the wiser. Coltopi will replenish his fake copies of the stolen goods until each one is sold, one by one. Twenty four hours after that, the buyers will discover that their purchases have vanished into thin air.

By then, it will be too late.

The Phantom Troupe will be long gone.

Chapter Text

POV: Uvogin

Franklin did a great job weeding out the weaklings who are barely even worth looking at. It sure isn’t every day that Uvogin manages to find someone remotely exciting to fight outside of the Troupe, let alone someone who looks like he’s having fun fighting him. It’s almost like having a friendly spar with Nobu. Maybe Danchou could even let him join!

If the Paper Shield Guy lives, that is.

“You survived twenty five percent of my power, not bad!” Uvogin compliments him. “Now let’s see how you do against fifty percent!”

Paper Shield Guy is pretty quick. He braces himself. He blocks Uvogin’s punch with both hands.

Neither of them counted on the damaged floor crumbling beneath them, sending them plunging into the underground parking lot below. Paper Shield Guy screams the entire way down. By the time they hit floor P1, Paper Shield Guy is hugging Uvogin’s arm like a lifeline. The funniest part is, when the dust clears, there still isn’t a single scratch on him. “What, are you scared of heights or something?”

Paper Shield Guy nods emphatically, taking a shaky breath.

Aw. Uvogin wasn’t even trying to spook him on purpose!

“Hey!” Phinks complains, barely avoiding falling into the hole himself.

Wheelchair Guy’s voice calls down from nearby. “Pika?”

“I’m okay!” Paper Shield Guy responds sheepishly. “Watch out for the giant hole in the floor!”

“Even I can see that!” quips Wheelchair Guy.

“Uvo, are you crazy!?” Nobu yells at him from somewhere on the ground floor overhead. “You’re gonna bring the entire building crashing down over all our heads!”

“So what?” Uvo bellows up at him. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a piece of rubble!”

“I can’t treat either of you idiots for dust inhalation,” grumbles Machi from farther away.

* POV: Kurapika *

The good news is, as long as Kurapika’s cloak is active, Bulldozer Man can’t seem to hurt him, even after blasting his Ren all the way up to the full extent of his power (hot and terrifying) craters both of them into parking level P2. Kurapika takes comfort in the fact that now that they’ve reached the solid concrete of the building’s foundation, there’s nowhere further to fall.

The bad news is, there’s no way Kurapika is strong enough to hurt the Bulldozer Man like this. Straightforward punches and kicks get him nowhere. It’s no use trying to hide among the columns and parked cars in an attempt to gain the advantage of surprise, when using Zetsu will deactivate the protection of his cloak.

Kurapika’s fortune told him paper beats rock. What the hell is that supposed to mean, if Kurapika can’t even land a solid hit on this guy?

He needs the pages of his book back. He needs to snag the Bulldozer Man, trip him, blind him, even if only for a few seconds. Maybe it will be enough for Neon and the boss to escape.

As the ten minute time limit on Kurapika’s cloak expires, he knows one more hit at the Bulldozer Man’s full power could shatter every bone in his body.

Now or never.

Flinging a spray of random pages at the Bulldozer Man’s face, Kurapika plasters a makeshift blindfold over his eyes. Then, while the Bulldozer Man is trying to tear the stubbornly clinging pages away from his face, Kurapika hides enough spare pages with In to pick up the largest slab of fallen concrete he can find.

He hurls it at the back of the Bulldozer Man’s head.

He prays it will be enough.

The piece of concrete connects with a resounding crack that makes Kurapika wince. Bulldozer Man topples like a falling tree.

Did that work?

Did he… did he kill him? But he isn’t even bleeding!

A quick check with Gyo reveals that Bulldozer Man definitely has just as much lively aura as ever. Oh good! Kurapika would have felt pretty bad about it if he actually had to kill someone!

When he wakes up, Bulldozer Man is going to be so pissed. Kurapika is willing to bet he isn’t going to stay down for long.

With adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Kurapika generates a floating staircase out of his conjured pages and uses it to scramble back up to rejoin Pairo on the ground floor. Behind him, he buries the Bulldozer Man in rubble for good measure. It probably won’t slow him down very much, but it’s probably better than nothing!

* POV: Pairo *

With his cloak of protection restricting his ability to use his shadow vines for anything else, Pairo can't steer his wheelchair with his hands and throw punches at the same time.

Well. Nothing he can do but fall back on the same strategy that vaulted Pairo to the top of Heavens Arena: get up on two feet and end things quickly. His eyes are already scarlet enough that he isn't going to feel the pain in his legs anyway!

There's just one big change in his strategy compared to Heavens Arena: as long as any part of Pairo is touching his wheelchair, his cloak of protection considers the wheelchair to be part of Pairo's body.

Which means that for ten minutes, Pairo's wheelchair is basically indestructible.

So Pairo gets up and starts swinging his wheelchair around like a blunt force weapon.

"What the fuck!?" curses Basho's tall, athletic opponent.

"Oh, I'm definitelty paying for this later!" chirps Pairo, riding the rush of utter recklessness.

"How moving! How inspiring!" gasps Basho as he swivels out of Pairo's way. So much so, evidently, that Basho begins to compose a haiku out loud on the spot. Good thing Pairo bought Basho enough time to activate his nen!

"Polite, mild mannered
One might say unassuming
At surface level

To those who don't know
This young man who wears dark red
With straight chestnut hair

He is a Hunter
Of the highest caliber
Strong in both arms

You, with the blond hair!
Learn the name of the defeat
Crashing down on you!

Underestimate
Pairo of Lukso Province
At your own peril!"

Pairo finds it rather flattering, having an entire poem written about him! As if right on cue, as Basho finishes his poem with a flourish, the floor rumbles beneath everyone's feet as if hit by an earthquake.

Or it could be another section of floor collapsing from the brute Kurapika is fighting. Whoops! That wasn't supposed to happen!

It does, however, throw the tall, athletic man off balance enough for Pairo to get a direct hit in, with Basho's nen providing a boost to Pairo's aura.

Pairo has the upper hand!

"Basho, quickly! Can you get Mister Nostrade and Miss Neon out of here while I handle this guy?"

Between the equivalent of six Hisokas, there are still too many enemies to navigate the bosses through. And all four of their cloaks are about to run out. Using his vines to lift his wheelchair out of harm's way, Pairo redoubles his efforts to protect himself and the bosses as he feels the shimmering double layer of nen fading from his skin.

Basho follows their contingency plan. Just near enough for Pairo to catch the occasional whisper of over the sounds of battle, Basho recites:

“On my signal, when
Senritsu raises her flute
Plug my colleagues’ ears!”

Moments later, silence descends around Pairo like he has been placed in a vacuum. Now he can barely see in the dim lighting, and he is completely deaf.

Feeling his way around with efficient, grid-shaped pinpricks of En, Pairo relocates the opponent in front of him. Spellbound in Senritsu's trance, the athletic man is no longer swinging his fists. Now is everyone’s chance to escape! A wave of relief crashes over Pairo, knowing that for the next three minutes, Senritsu will take care of everything.

In fact, Pairo can feel the strength draining from his nen as the scarlet recedes from his eyes. His legs are not happy about this development.

* POV: Squala *

Senritsu’s “Field in Spring” makes it safe for Squala to deploy his entire pack of dogs inside the Cemetery Building, tugging spellbound attackers out of the way to allow Miss Neon and Mister Nostrade to evacuate through the front door.

Seeing through the eyes of his dogs, Squala immediately spots something wrong- The coat check clerk, already under somebody else’s Manipulation nen, has access to every gun surrendered by the assembled mafia members. He is pointing one gun at Pairo, who can neither see nor hear him, and another directly at Senritsu’s head.

Pairo has Kurapika close by to push him out of the way, wheelchair and all.

Wrapped up in her own nen for as long as her song continues, Senritsu is defenseless.

Sic! Go!

Under Squala’s command, his two largest dogs immediately launch themselves up over the coat check counter. The clerk’s shots go wide as the dogs bowl him over. Clamping his jaws around the clerk’s wrist, Bruce the Saint Bernard yanks the pistol out of his unwilling hands. Cherry the golden retriever pins the clerk to the ground with both front paws on his chest.

Dalzollene is bleeding heavily. Squala hesitates for a moment, trying to decide whether to send Penny the Dalmatian to drag him out of the way before Senritsu’s song is over, or whether moving him would make his injuries worse. Kurapika solves that problem by conjuring the shape of an emergency stretcher from the pages of his book to lift their team leader away. Then he conjures several layers of pages in the shape of head phones to block his friends’ ears, gesturing frantically at a very tall man in an embroidered waistcoat to bring Dalzollene to his attention. Once they make it out of the building, the tall man begins to apply bandages to stop Dalzollene’s bleeding until they can get him to a hospital.

Meanwhile, Anchovy the beagle and Scruffy, Squala’s lovable rascal of a brown mutt, nudge and escort Miss Nostrade and Light Nostrade out of the building to Linssen’s waiting car. It’s a relief to see them out of danger.

But the threat is not neutralized until they find out who was manipulating the coat check clerk in the first place.

Humphrey the bull terrier encounters a suspicious character leaving from a stairwell that leads up to the upper floors of the Cemetery Building. As Squala focuses his Gyo in Humphrey’s eyes, he can see a terribly strong aura around the new arrival. Stifling Humphrey’s urge to bark and growl a warning, Squala instead orders the small dog to hide behind a dumpster in an alley and stay quiet. Otherwise his poor little rescue may not survive.

Outclassed in nen, Squala is forced to follow suit.

This is the last straw. If he makes it home to Eliza, today is the day he hands in his resignation.

* POV: Owl *

The Ten Dons received a report of trouble brewing at the Cemetery Building from their event organizer, who, in turn, received a complaint from Light Nostrade, one of the small-time mafia bosses in attendance at the auction. The Shadow Beasts, as the enforcement arm of the Ten Dons, have been called in to back up the security team and to investigate whether anything was stolen from the vault.

“An attack on the Cemetery Building, you say? No problem. Me and the boys are on our way.”

Owl snaps his flip phone shut and slips it into his pocket. Then, keeping both hands casually in his pockets, he passes the news on to his colleagues and slouches into the back seat of Leech’s sedan next to Porcupine. All ten Shadow Beasts squeeze into two cars, with Bat flying along behind them until they reach the scene.

“Why do I always have to sit in the middle?” complains Porcupine.

“’Cause you’re the smallest,” answers Worm from Porcupine’s right.

“You can’t even reach the pedals,” teases Leech from the driver’s seat.

Worm merely shrugs and stares out of the window of the front passenger seat.

“Gentlemen, be on your guard,” Owl warns his colleagues warily. “According to the report from the scene, we’re dealing with advanced nen users.”

Rabid Dog doesn’t seem worried. “Surely they’re no match for all ten of us!”

As Leech parks haphazardly in front of the Cemetery Building, the Shadow Beasts are greeted with a scene of carnage. There is still an active fight going on between a swordsman and two kids, a blue blur of a person being chased around the building in circles by a giant man, and a tense standoff between two opposing groups as several bystanders are being treated for their injuries. Inside the lobby, many more are unconscious, dead, or being carried outside by floating stretchers and suspiciously intelligent teams of dogs.

It turns out there was nothing to worry about after all. As soon as the Shadow Beasts announce their arrival on scene, the attackers are so scared in their boots that they simply pack up and leave!

Just as a precaution though, the Shadow Beasts need to check what’s happening throughout the remainder of the grounds. They split up into two groups: one to scout inside the lobby and the surrounding building, and the other to check the security feeds and question the vault guards. As an extra precaution, Owl even checks the contents of the vault with his own eyes.

It’s all still there. Job done! Owl is pleased to report back to the Ten Dons that the Shadow Beasts have kept the auction safe!

* POV: Shalnark *

Shalnark has been multitasking. Most of the time, his eyes are on the silent black and white computer screens at his stolen seat in the security room of the Cemetery Building, monitoring the cameras outside the vault and around the outside of the building. Every few minutes, he casts a glance at the tiny screen of his Black Voice to see what his newest toys are up to. One transmitter is in the security guard in front of the vault, relaying information to and from Danchou’s team. The other is in the coat check clerk in the lobby, keeping an eye on Uvo’s team just in case. Not that they need any help.

Or do they?

Through the security feeds, Shalnark is intrigued and amused to spot the blond he stole from at the flea market. Not only have he and a handful of others survived a direct attack from Franklin, they appear to be holding their own against Uvo, Nobu, and Phinks – for now. Machi and Feitan aren’t taking the fight seriously enough to intervene, so Shalnark sees no reason to bother either.

That is, until all of them suddenly stop moving.

Everyone on the camera feed who is still moving must be the enemy. Are there any easy targets to cut down their numbers while Shalnark has the element of surprise in his favor? Who does he need to eliminate to break the Spiders out of captivity? Focusing Gyo into his eyes to search the camera feeds, Shalnark quickly zeroes in on the main culprit: a tiny, harmless-looking flute player, wearing a serene expression with closed eyes.

He takes aim.

His shots never connect. The enemy is on to him, taking down Shalnark’s puppet with a pair of attack dogs.

Aw. Another toy broken. Looks like Shalnark will have to take care of this enemy himself!

Shalnark’s phone rings as he makes his way down the staircase to the ground floor: it’s Danchou. “Coltopi and Shizuku are finished. Tell the others to wrap up and meet us at the base.”

“Sure thing, boss!” Shalnark answers quickly. “We ran into some troublesome nen users, but don’t worry. I have it handled.” Then he hangs up and plugs his ears, just like he saw on the video feed.

He needn’t have bothered. By the time Shalnark arrives on scene, Feitan, Phinks, Machi, Nobu, and Franklin are already breaking out of their trance. At this point, the enemy only seems interested in leaving, but Nobu won’t let them go without continuing his fight. Typical.

“Danchou says it’s time to go,” Shalnark calls to his fellow Spiders, gesturing out the hole in the east wall with his thumb. “Where’s Uvo?” He must have gone somewhere beyond the reach of the security feeds, because Shalnark lost track of him on camera.

“That idiot punched himself down through two floors,” answers Machi, rolling her eyes.

Ah, so that’s why Shalnark lost sight of the robe vendor- until he re-emerges from the gaping hole in the middle of the floor. He looks around, taking stock of all his friends. Then his eyes widen as they land on Shalnark.

“I remember you!” exclaims the blue-robed blond, pointing an accusatory finger in Shalnark’s direction. “You’re the one who stole the robes from my shop!”

Shalnark gives him a mock salute, grinning. “Thanks! I liked the green one the best! Do you think it looks good on me?” Then he casually turns to leave.

“Hey, get back here!” fumes the blond.

From two floors deep in the parking garage, Uvogin’s angry roar rattles the entire building. Shalnark can’t resist looking back over his shoulder to catch the visibly startled look on the blond’s face.

Shalnark waves to him. “Bye, have fun!”

* POV: Machi *

The Phantom Troupe is celebrating their big theft in typical Phantom Troupe fashion: by stealing a case of beer and party snacks, and with the usual level of bickering. There is a reason why the entire Troupe doesn’t assemble very often: they get too antsy when they are cooped up in the same space for more than a few hours.

“I’m gonna kill the Paper Shield Guy. I was about to get him for sure!” grumps Uvo. He’s going to be sour about being interrupted in the middle of a fight all the way back to their hideout.

Shalnark waves him off. “Kill him all you want later. Danchou called a meeting.”

Phinks elbows Uvo in the ribs. “Yeah? You looked like you were having fun for a while there.”

“You’re just a sore loser,” Nobu snipes at Uvo.

“Says the guy who couldn’t beat two kids!” Uvo snipes back.

“Shut up,” says Nobu.

“No, you shut up,” Uvo retorts childishly.

Machi rolls her eyes at their stupid argument and their even stupider scuffling. “Both of you shut up.”

Nobu huffs, folding both arms across his chest. “That pesky kid zapped me with lightning! It hurt like hell!”

“Just admit it,” Phinks fires at Nobu, “You were having fun too.”

“You know, those kids would make good Spiders. I kinda wished I was fighting with them instead of against them,” muses Nobu.

“Hell yeah, best fight I’ve had in a while,” Uvo finally relents with a grin.

When they finally make it back to their hideout, Machi greets Bonolenov with a polite nod, pointedly ignores Hisoka, and takes stock of who she has to patch up. Thankfully, she finds that there is nothing for her needle to sew back together here. Uvogin’s hard head saved him from anything worse than a few bruises and a bump on the head. With his Enhancement nen, Nobunaga’s minor electrical burns are going to sort themselves out within a few days. Phinks is also sporting a bruise or two, but nothing broken.

It’s always like this with Enhancers, getting into a brawl for no good reason. But these are her idiots, and Machi is fiercely protective of all of them.

* POV: Leorio *

Leorio managed to dodge the first round of bullets by diving behind a column.

Astonishingly, Gon is so strong, he managed to take the hit of all the bullets without the slightest sign of a bruise.

Killua, outran all the bullets at a speed that ought to be physically impossible for human legs to achieve.

Kurapika and Pairo pick up the proverbial gauntlet the group of bandits just dropped, and look like they may actually be winning.

Many others were not so lucky.

Amid the devastation and the bleeding, it’s all Leorio can do to try to offer comfort to the dying, even if he can’t save any of them. Is there a specific word for the kind of grief one feels witnessing the death of a group of complete strangers? Yes, these people are all mafia members, many with heinous crimes and blood on their hands. Yes, these people were well aware of the danger in coming here and in carrying out their daily jobs. But somewhere near or far, they must have all still had families, friends, and people who care for them.

Leorio pushes down his anguish and opens up his first aid kit. If he gets blood all over his fancy embroidered vest from Kurapika, so be it. It’s for a good cause.

The cruel little imp of a man in front of him is laughing at him! It makes Leorio so mad, seeing people who feel nothing but boredom in the face of senseless violence, or worse, actually enjoy it. Further rubbing salt into the wound, these nen users are so far above Leorio’s level, no wonder they’re laughing at him! And there’s nothing Leorio can do about it.

The fighting around Leorio goes by in a blur, until all of Leorio’s attention is captured by the most enchanting song he has ever heard. What was the musician’s name again? Senritsu, Leorio recalls – they met her briefly at the flea market. Her song takes hold of Leorio’s grieving heart and lifts him on a soft, fragrant breeze. Between the fluttering notes of Senritsu’s flute, Leorio can almost hear the chirping of birds and the flapping wings of butterflies. It leaves him feeling calm and refreshed, even as Kurapika blocks his ears, stifling the conclusion.

Leorio needed that.

At least there is one person Leorio can save. Kurapika gently moves one of his colleagues out of the way of where the fighting is very likely to resume as soon as the musical performance is over. Leorio is no surgeon (yet), so there isn’t much he can do if there are any bullets embedded in the man’s flesh. Or were those bullets made of nen? Leorio tries to use the Gyo Kurapika taught him on the bleeding man’s wounds, and can’t really see anything. Then he does his best to clean and bandage the man’s injuries to stabilize him until he can get a blood transfusion, a few x-rays, and maybe a CT scan for damage to his internal organs. If only Leorio had a nen ability that allowed him to do all those things much more quickly himself!

Kurapika and his other colleague’s dogs remove as many injured mafia members as they can from the lobby. There were some weaker nen users among them, like Dalzollene, who managed to survive this long by falling unconscious or playing dead, escaping the notice of the cruel little man who made a game of murdering them all. Leorio finds it difficult to focus on administering first aid when the fighting resumes, and Kurapika, running low on aura, looks like he might not be winning after all.

Suddenly, their attackers pack up and leave, just as a random group of weird-looking nen users show up, don’t even lift a finger to help with the fighting or the first aid, and take all the credit for chasing the bandits away! The nerve of these guys!

There’s a bald, completely naked guy burrowing through the ground like a worm, another with a mouth full of inhumanly sharp teeth, and a tiny man with thick, wiry hair that alternately coils into springs or stiffens into spikes. Leorio would stop and stare if he had more time between dealing with bleeding patients.

“Oh my god, he’s gone.” Gasping for breath, Kurapika skids to a stop in front of Leorio, then collapses on the spot. “Let me just… close my eyes for a moment.”

He doesn’t get up.

“Uh, Kurapika? Should I be worried?” Brows furrowing, Leorio gently touches him on the shoulder. No response.

Well, that’s concerning! Leorio concentrates his aura in his eyes again. Kurapika’s aura looks pretty depleted, which, if Leorio had to hazard a guess, is probably his biggest problem right now. After a fight like that, it isn’t surprising that Kurapika needs to rest. He doesn’t seem to have any obvious external injuries, he’s still breathing, and when Leorio checks his pulse, he finds it to be strong, rapid, and gradually slowing to a normal resting rhythm.

Another one of Kurapika’s colleagues Leorio hasn’t met – a redhead with curly sideburns- comes to check on him. “Is Kurapika hurt?”

“Not as far as I can tell. I think he overdid it,” Leorio answers. “Can you keep an eye on him while I go check on some other friends?”

The redhead nods. “Sure, no problem.”

Leorio finds Gon and Killua still inside the lobby. Gon is perched cross-legged in a fancy leather chair, while Killua leans against the wall, chatting with him.

A brief look of relief crosses Killua’s features, which he quickly tries to erase by frowning and turning his head away. “Wow, old man,” he deadpans. “I thought you were a goner.”

Much more open with his emotions, Gon immediately leaps out of his chair and gives Leorio a hug. “Leorio! You’re okay!”

Leorio returns Gon’s hug, then ruffles his hair. “Yeah, I guess I am. Lucky break.”

Gon’s eyes are shining with a bright smile. “That was scary, but also exciting!”

Having seen Killua become literally faster than a speeding bullet, Leorio can tell that Killua doesn’t really have his heart in it when he makes a show of dodging out of Leorio’s hugging range. Killua lets himself be wrestled into a noogie, then a proper hug. Embarrassed, Killua buries his face in Leorio’s waistcoat and takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Stop,” says Killua. Leorio lets go of him immediately, lifting his arms with both palms up in a placating gesture. “No, I mean stop worrying about me,” Killua grumbles into Leorio’s shirt without releasing his arms from around Leorio’s waist. “Not like I haven’t seen dead people before. I’m used to it.”

Leorio hugs him tighter, even if Killua has a very roundabout way of asking for reassurance.

“I’m okay,” says Killua, mostly to himself. “I’m okay.” Leorio lets him take as long as he needs, and doesn’t comment.

Parked nearby, Pairo appears to have dozed off in his wheelchair. Even with the seat tilted back, he doesn’t look very comfortable. He shifts uneasily, with pinched eyebrows and a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Senritsu is watching over Pairo with a worried frown, her hands fidgeting nervously, at a loss for what to do to make it better. As Leorio approaches to take a closer look, Senritsu looks up at him with a small smile.

“Hi Senritsu,” Leorio greets her.

“Leorio! I’m glad to see you!” Senritsu greets him in return.

Leorio lowers his voice. “Pairo, are you awake?”

Pairo stirs with a small groan of protest. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Ugh,” he mutters. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“Does anything hurt?” asks Leorio.

“My legs. My head,” Pairo indicates with a vague gesture. “So tired.”

“Can I get you anything?” Leorio continues, “Painkillers? A glass of water? A blanket?”

“For a nen headache? I don’t think painkillers can do anything. I’ll be fine later.” Pairo shakes his head, then changes his mind. “Can you get Kurapika?”

Leorio hesitates. “He’s… kinda passed out. Your redheaded friend is watching him.”

“Of course he is.” Pairo cracks one eye open to peer at Leorio, then smiles in spite of his discomfort. “Don’t join the mafia, Leorio,” he jokes. “You’re too good.”

“He’s right, you know,” Senritsu adds conspiratorially. “Did you know that you have the most soothing heartbeat in this city?”

“Me? Really?” Leorio is touched.

Senritsu nods. “Are you a doctor?”

“Not yet, but I’m in medical school,” answers Leorio.

Senritsu pats him on the arm. “I’m glad. It suits you.”

“You know, your performance really made me feel better,” Leorio tells Senritsu earnestly. “I’d like to hear you play again sometime when we’re not in the middle of… all this.” Gesturing vaguely at the blood all around them, Leorio doesn’t need to elaborate.

Senritsu’s smile widens by just a fraction. “Thank you,” she tells him softly. “And thank you for being here. I find your presence comforting, and I’m sure all those people you spent time with would agree, even if you only had a few short moments with them.”

Chapter Text

POV: Gon

Only a few short days after the attack, the Cemetery Building is so clean and shiny, it’s like nothing ever happened! And they’ve fixed the giant hole in the middle of the floor, too! For a moment, Gon gets lost in thought imagining who the York Shin Mafia hired to get this place shipshape overnight in time to continue with the auction. It must have taken a whole army of Aunt Mitos with hammers and nails and buckets and mops and cleaning rags and spray bottles!

Gon is impressed. “Wow! They’ve really worked hard to reopen this place!”

“Tch,” scoffs Killua. “They destroyed all the evidence. I bet the police are all in on it, or else they’d still be here investigating and the building would be closed. Maybe even the whole street.”

“I guess all the buyers and sellers must be used to it. Look at all these people! They’re not scared at all.” Gon still can’t get over all of these crowds and crowds of people, all dressed up in suits and tuxedos. Nothing like the slow, laid-back life on Whale Island!

Gon isn’t scared either. But that’s because he’s a Hunter! And now is their chance to bid for a copy of Greed Island!

If they win, Killua, Kurapika, and Pairo have decided that since they can only afford one copy between all four of them, Gon should go into the game alone. Then he’ll have to tell them all about what it’s like when he beats the game!

If they lose the bid… well, then they’ll have to think of another plan.

Bidding starts at one billion jenny.

Eight billion jenny is more money than Gon has ever seen in his life.

All seven copies of Greed Island end up selling for over sixteen billion. Each. To the same buyer.

“Let’s go talk to this Battera guy,” Killua mutters to Gon. “I bet there’s a good reason he’s throwing that much money around.”

But by the time they seek out Mr. Battera, it turns out all seven copies of Greed Island have disappeared!

* Time skip *

“They what!?”

When Gon and Killua knocked on the door to Kurapika and Pairo’s hotel room, Pairo barely had the energy to answer the door, and Kurapika was still face down in bed, with the covers pulled all the way up over his head and his feet sticking out from beneath the covers. But as soon as Gon begins to explain how all the auction items disappeared, Kurapika sits bolt upright. With his blanket still wrapped around him like a hoodie, his disheveled blond hair sticking out in places and getting into his face, and his eyes wide and briefly scarlet with surprise, Gon thinks Kurapika looks a lot like a startled baby owl in the daytime. It probably wouldn’t be polite to tell him so.

“On the bright side,” Pairo muses, “now we can pay back the money we borrowed from Leorio and send half of our profits back to the village.”

Kurapika slams his fist into his palm. “It’s that thief, I just know it! The same one who stole my robes!”

Pairo sighs. “Pika, will you calm down? Neither of us are in any shape to go chasing after thieves right now.”

“Fine,” Kurapika grumbles. “We’ll go chasing after thieves tomorrow.”

“But you already got paid for your stolen robes anyway!” Pairo protests.

“But what about Greed Island?” Kurapika counters. “How is Gon supposed to get his hands on even one copy if these thieves stole them all?”

“Yeah…” Gon sighs. “The Hunter Website said this mission was supposed to be only Rank D difficulty!”

“Either way, chasing after the thieves is still going to be a terrible idea tomorrow. We all saw how strong they were,” Pairo tries to reason.

“You know what else they stole?” Kurapika lowers his voice conspiratorially. “All the rare books.”

“Okay, okay, I yield!” cries Pairo, covering his face with both hands. “I just know you weren’t going to let it go until you talked me into it anyway.”

Kurapika grins, triumphant. “All for the Hunt! You do have a point, though. We definitely don’t want to start another fight. We need a plan.”

Killua frowns. “How are we even supposed to find these thieves? They could be halfway around the world on an airship by now.”

Then inspiration strikes. “I have an idea!” Gon exclaims. “Killua, remember how we found the best quality items to buy at the flea market by using Gyo?”

Killua tilts his head to one side, considering. “Yeah, and?”

Gon turns to Kurapika. “Do you still have any fancy embroidered robes that you didn’t sell?”

“Of course I do! Pairo and I were wearing them yesterday.” Kurapika nods, then pauses. “Wait, you mean…”

“Yeah! Try it!” Bouncing on his heels with anticipation, Gon waits for Kurapika to get up and take the robe he was wearing yesterday out of the closet. Then everyone concentrates their aura into their eyes and stares at it.

Just as Gon suspected, there’s a faint glow around it!

* POV: Pairo *

Infiltrating a den of dangerous thieves?

Stealing from a den of dangerous thieves?

Of course Pairo would never let Kurapika get himself into this kind of trouble alone. If they can pull this off, Pairo will be retelling this story for years!

Killua and Gon, with equal stake in recovering copies of Greed Island to play together, insist on coming along. Pairo lets Leorio and Senritsu know where they are going, warning them not to go looking if they never make it back. Leorio can’t help worrying, but he goes back to studying anyway, insisting on a phone call to reassure him that they’re still alive when all this is over. Senritsu simply says her uncertain goodbyes and doesn’t try to stop them. They’re all Hunters. They understand.

This mission calls for stealth, something Pairo was never very good at. His wheelchair is bulky and conspicuous and makes a lot of noise over bumpy terrain- which is why he and Kurapika developed a second storybook cloak ability.

In many ways, the Cloak of Invisibility is the opposite of Kurapika and Pairo’s Cloak of Protection. With a crumpled layer of Kurapika’s pages on the inside to muffle sound, and a silky layer of Pairo’s shadows on the outside to manipulate the ability of passers-by to see them, each cloak allows one of four wearers to melt into the background unnoticed. While cloaked, the wearers are only allowed to use their abilities for non-combat purposes, keeping their auras hidden with In and Zetsu. Not as taxing on their energy as any ability used with scarlet eyes, the Cloak of Invisibility doesn’t have a strict time limit. Its use is only limited by the amount of time Pairo and Kurapika can maintain their Hatsu without getting tired. No matter how tense the situation gets, Kurapika and Pairo must keep their eyes from turning scarlet, or else their flaring auras will completely blow their cover.

Ahead of Pairo, his friends are visible to him as black smudges under their cloaks. Kurapika leads the way in silent concentration, following the faint pull of En from an object his two hands unknowingly infused with his aura through sheer hard work. Through the relentless pouring rain, the others follow in his wake: Gon stalking like a panther through the jungle, Killua with the muted footfalls of a former assassin, Pairo coasting forward on a miniature sea of rolling shadows, floating over the uneven terrain.

Gradually, their journey takes them farther and farther away from the living, breathing heart of the downtown core, where the sounds of beeping pedestrian crossings and milling crowds are replaced by sighing wind and scurrying rats. In the more ramshackle part of town, there are so many potholes, pieces of fallen rubble, and gaping cracks in the pavement, it makes sitting in his wheelchair pointless. Relying entirely on his nen to keep the pressure off his legs, Pairo asks Kurapika to store his wheelchair between the pages of his conjured copy of Dino Hunter.

Their surroundings seem abandoned. Is there anyone here? Pairo casts a glance around him with Gyo, and discovers something peculiar. Where there ought to be nothing but empty streets and abandoned buildings, possibly occupied by the occasional vagrant, Pairo can’t stop staring at the unnatural glow of several rickety apartment complexes directly in front of him, each of which look remarkably alike. Is Pairo hallucinating, or are those entire buildings conjured from nen? How much aura must this illusion have taken to create!?

“Everyone, look! Use Gyo,” Pairo whispers urgently, touching Kurapika’s shoulder to get his attention. “Those buildings up ahead are fake!”

“Oh wow, you’re right!” Gon whispers back.

“Those buildings are definitely concealing something,” adds Killua. “I can’t see anyone’s auras behind them.”

Kurapika sounds far more confident than the situation warrants. “We must be getting close! Let’s split up so that if they catch one of us, the rest of us can still do something about it.”

Well, here goes nothing.

* POV: Kurapika *

Past the set of cloned apartments, the thieves’ real hideout is a run-down old high rise with broken windows and rotting floorboards, identical to the fake buildings all around it. The building has no power, so tracking the thieves up to the second floor involves a treacherous trek up four flights of chipped concrete staircases in total darkness. Killua takes the fire escape, while Gon climbs the walls with his bare hands, like a gecko. Pairo takes the opposite staircase. At least this is nowhere near as bad as the Hunter Exam. In a place like this, Kurapika is so, so glad Pairo can rely on his nen to get around.

A faint flicker of candlelight reaches Kurapika’s eyes through a corridor of broken doorways. Gyo reveals the figures of thirteen thieves, twice as many as Kurapika saw at the Underground Auction! So far, judging by their casual, relaxed voices, they haven’t realized anything is amiss.

Kurapika creeps closer, barely daring to breathe. Peering into the circle of candlelight, he spots crates and piles of objects scattered all over the floor of the apartment, with thieves sitting on, navigating around, or leaning against them as far as the eye can see. Which, in this darkness, really isn’t very far. The thief who stole Kurapika’s robes, the swordsman, and the tall blond in a tracksuit are sorting their stolen goods from the Underground Auction into two piles.

“A Celadon Porcelain vase: looks cool, absolutely useless. Sell,” Tracksuit declares.

The swordsman, perhaps unsurprisingly, has his hands on a sword. “A solid gold sword from the Yul National Treasury. Heavy, blunt, poorly balanced. Probably even a child could bend this thing out of shape with their bare hands. Sell.”

“Used tissues? Can’t understand why the fuck anyone would want these.” Tracksuit makes his disdain clear. “Sell.”

“Greed Island, seven copies,” the robe thief announces. “How many do we want to keep? I want to play for sure. Who’s with me?”

“Me,” the tiny man with the umbrella-sword answers simply.

“Me too,” adds Tracksuit.

“Maybe,” says the pink-haired woman.

A dark-haired man in a long, black, fur-lined leather jacket, looks up from reading a book. “I’m interested. There is a good possibility that we will find more interesting one-of-a-kind treasures to steal.”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Hisoka hums playfully, while stacking up a house of playing cards. Hisoka!? What is he doing here!?

The pink-haired woman scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going if he’s going.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Machi! We’re such good friends!” Hisoka coos.

“Pay me,” says Machi coldly. Then she goes back to pointedly ignoring him.

“One more copy. Anyone else?” Robe Thief asks after a short pause. “No? Well, let’s just keep them all for now, and we can decide later. Anything else you want to keep, Danchou?”

“These books, but we can sell them after I finish reading,” answers Fur-lined Jacket. Is he their leader? On second glance, Kurapika notices that the man is not just reading a book but also surrounded by books. Kurapika recognizes some of the titles and covers from browsing the auction catalog.

The good news is, the thieves sorted out exactly the items Kurapika and his friends want to get their hands on among all the goods stolen from the Underground Auction. The bad news is, the thieves will definitely notice if the things they wanted to keep go missing. Kurapika can’t just stash those books and game cartridges between the pages of Dino Hunter, right under their noses! He needs some kind of distraction, or a moment when they’re not paying attention.

“Ha! Now I’ve got you!” bellows the Bulldozer Man as he snatches Kurapika up with his meaty fist bunched in the collar of Kurapika’s robes.

Oops. Kurapika is the one who should have been paying attention.

Caught red-handed, Kurapika can’t keep his eyes from flooding with scarlet as his feet leave the ground, his stomach plummets to the floor, and the heat rushes to his cheeks. With its conditions broken, his cloak of invisibility shatters, leaving him staring directly into the Bulldozer Man’s green eyes. All things considered, this wouldn’t be the worst way to die.

Elsewhere in this building, Kurapika knows that Pairo, Gon, and Killua’s cloaks have also shattered. Please, please, let the thieves focus on him.

“Hello again!” The robe thief waves at him with a friendly smile.

“Why Kurapika, you came all the way here to visit me?” purrs Hisoka.

“Ew, no.” Kurapika grimaces. “Can someone tell me why Hisoka is here!?”

“Every day, I ask myself the same question,” grumbles Machi.

“It’s because I want to fight our dear leader Kuroro, of course!” Hisoka answers brightly. “Sadly, he keeps saying no.”

Umbrella Sword tilts his head to the side, eyeing Kurapika with a mix of intrigue and malice. “Secret invisibility? Danchou, want me to break fingers?” On second thought, Kurapika may have to revise his statement.

“I wouldn’t kill me if I were you!” warns Kurapika, stalling for enough time for Pairo to come up with a rescue plan. “It will bring bad luck on you and all your loved ones for a hundred years!”

“Uvo, watch out. If he was strong enough to knock you out once, he could have some kind of powerful postmortem nen,” Tracksuit advises thoughtfully, while rubbing his chin.

“Or he could be bullshitting,” counters the swordsman.

“Do you really want to find out?” bluffs Kurapika with an air of ominous mystery, removing his contact lenses to stare wide-eyed at every single person in the room. This could be an even worse idea, or it could save his life. What does Kurapika have to lose?

The tabard thief stares at him with an unexpected stricken look on his face. It’s gone in an instant, quickly morphing into a thoughtful expression. What does he know?

“Stand down, everyone.” Their leader closes his book, placing it down on the crate beside him. He gestures for the Bulldozer Man to put him down, which is still not exactly reassuring considering the sheer number of thieves surrounding Kurapika. He strolls closer, studying Kurapika and his scarlet eyes as if they are far more absorbing than the story he was just reading. After a long pause, he appears to come to a decision. “Kurapika, was it? Would you be interested in joining the Phantom Troupe?”

* POV: Killua *

It’s immediately obvious that something went horribly wrong as soon as Killua’s cloak of invisibility disappears, because of course this was going to happen. With all the stealth that was ever beaten into him, Killua finds Gon and Pairo and regroups with them on the third floor, hopefully with enough walls between them and their adversaries that no one will hear them whispering to each other. For a moment, everyone holds their breaths and plasters their ears to the sound of voices faintly echoing through the air vents. Killua doesn’t hear any screaming yet, which is a good sign… probably.

At first, judging by both his expression and his aura, Pairo is trying not to panic. But the longer he listens in, the more his eyebrows shoot up, incredulous. “Seriously, Pika?” he mutters, half to himself. “I almost want to go back to Trick Tower so that I can tell Majitani that Kurapika turned down an invitation from the boss of the Phantom Troupe, then use Gyo to see the look on his face.”

“That’s if they let Kurapika out of here alive.” Killua underscores the seriousness of the situation. “Even my dad says the Phantom Troupe is barely worth the money to try to assassinate, and that’s the biggest compliment coming from him. We need to break Kurapika out before they stop playing nice.”

“You’re the fastest,” Gon points out.

“If we can get out of the building with Kurapika, we have another combined ability that can fly us away fast,” adds Pairo.

“We can work with this,” Killua whispers, scratching his chin. “They’ll be expecting it if we break through the walls. Pairo, help me listen for Kurapika’s voice so we can figure out where we’re directly above him. Gon, you punch through the ceiling and I’ll grab Kurapika from above before they have time to react. Then we run like hell.”

From then on, the trio falls into silence, their eyes darting among themselves. Lying flat on his stomach, Pairo presses his ear to the floor. He signals to Gon and Killua with his hand, pointing in the right direction until he is sure they are as close as they can get to the sound of Kurapika’s voice.

They brace themselves.

Killua activates Godspeed, ready to leap into action.

* POV: Kuroro *

“The Phantom Troupe? As in, the notorious thieves? Suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.” Kurapika frowns, considering. “Wait, hold on. Is this all of you? Let me take a wild guess and assume you don’t have four kings.”

Kuroro chuckles, amused. “Wherever did you get that idea?”

Kurapika shrugs. “Some wannabe.”

“The Spiders bow to no king or master,” explains Kuroro. “There is only the head and the legs, each one serving the whole.”

Eyeing Kuroro warily, Kurapika asks, “And you’re serious? You would consider me joining your group after attacking you and getting in your way?”

Absolutely. And here is the reason. After seeing him in action at the Underground Auction, here is what the Spiders collectively know about Kurapika:

Somehow, he managed to track down the Phantom Troupe’s current base, presumably from all the way across the city, and managed to sneak close enough to eavesdrop before getting caught.

The curious, colorful style of his robes matches the outfit Shalnark is currently wearing.

Hisoka knows him.

He and his companions survived Franklin’s bullets unharmed.

He bested Uvogin in a fight.

He appears to be a Conjurer, yet somehow packs the punch of an Enhancer.

He has the ability to turn invisible.

Unlike anything Kuroro has ever seen, he has striking sunset-colored eyes that glow in the dim candlelight. He hides this behind tinted contact lenses.

Strong, clever, and with multiple abilities that may be useful for the Troupe, Kurapika is a fascinating mystery Kuroro is itching to unravel.

It also doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes.

No pun intended.

“The traditional way for the Spiders to gain a new member is by killing an existing member. That was how Hisoka joined. It’s how we ensure that only the strongest Spider survives. However, in your case, we can make an exception.”

Kurapika makes a face, although it’s hard to say whether this is due to disapproval of the Spider’s methods or because of the mention of Hisoka. Possibly both.

“I do not make this kind of offer lightly,” Kuroro continues. “How shall I convince you? If you join the Spiders, you will be revered and feared. The whole world will be at your fingertips. There is nothing that we aren’t capable of stealing. We live for the challenge and the thrill, and for each other. What do you say?”

Kurapika shakes his head. But before he can formulate an answer, the ceiling caves in.

Kuroro can’t see what happens next, because an opaque shadow plasters itself across his eyes. Judging by the irritated shouts of the other Spiders, the same thing must have happened to them at the same time. When Kuroro concentrates enough aura in his eyes to burn the blinding attack away, it barely helps. The entire floor beneath their feet has become a swamp of boiling shadows, some of them reaching all the way to the broken ceiling. Nobunaga has been plucked off his feet. Uvogin is punching back tendrils of shadows away from his arms and legs and face, but they keep closing back in on him. Pakunoda and Machi are in a similar predicament, constantly trying to disentangle themselves. The individual tendrils are a nuisance more than anything, weak but persistent. It’s like trying to fight back against the waves of a miniature ocean.

“Pika! We need wings!” Someone shouts near the exterior wall.

A window shatters.

A blinding flash of white light streaks across Kuroro’s vision – or is that a person? Kuroro blinks, and it’s gone.

So is Kurapika.

Inside the Troupe’s hideout, the tendrils of shadow recede as quickly as they arrived. In their wake, they leave behind floating dust, twelve annoyed Spiders, and most of the stolen goods from the Underground Auction.

All seven copies of Greed Island have been stolen.

So has the pile of books Kuroro was looking forward to reading.

Hisoka laughs and laughs.

Casting a glance through the broken window, Kuroro is just in time to witness Kurapika and his three companions from the Underground Auction flying away on the back of a large paper kite, propelled by jets of black shadows as the rain lashes their faces and the wind whips their hair behind them into damp tangles.

Well damn.

A single tear rolls down Kuroro’s cheek as he bears witness to one of the boldest, most magnificent heists he has ever seen.

That settles it. Kuroro isn’t going to take no for an answer.