Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Breathe.

A pivot to the right, block with the right arm, a feint with the left, jump back to dodge a kick-

Remember to breathe.

Throughout the years and by hours of arduous training, Kite had managed to develop a combative muscle memory, his body reacting before his brain caught up to the moment and sparing him of the slight, panic-ridden pauses so deeply ingrained in his instincts that could cost a battle. Even while sparring a wildcard such as Ging Freecss, with his unpredictable and variable style of combat, he could fall into somewhat of an easy rhythm, a well-practiced dance of sorts with familiar steps, one foot after the other, each move made with a clear goal in mind.

Be mindful of the literal battlefield. Any obstacle to you can be an obstacle to your opponent as well.

Proud trees stood scattered across the gentle slope of the mountainside, too far apart to be used as either a shield or to corner his mentor. Rocks the size of boulders provided uneven footing and, Kite learned as he threw himself to the ground without even an ounce of grace in order to dodge, could be picked up and thrown.

The boulder broke into a hundred tiny projectiles, sliding off his back and hitting him in the head. He blinked dust out of his eyes and gritted his teeth, a newly skinned knee scraping against the rough ground as he pushed himself up, poised to leap away from the next probable attack.

“No weapons, no Nen. Those were the terms, Ging-san!” The mountain returned Kite’s shout in waning echoes, soon drowned out by Ging’s explosive bout of laughter. Hoisting up a much larger boulder over his head, he grinned ear to ear, no sign of exhaustion behind his focused eyes.

“No Nen, and this might be kinda cheating-“ Having misjudged the trajectory of the throw, Kite almost got trapped against a tree, only jumping away at the last moment before the impact. “-only if your toothpick arms can’t pick ‘em up. Hah!”

Running to put more distance between himself and his opponent, Kite spared a glance back at the tree after blowing his hair out of his face, now nothing more than a pile of woodchips and rocks.

Using the battlefield as an advantage, even empty handed, every tool can be a weapon, Ging had taught him, and of course he abided by his own teaching.

And he had been right that without Nen, Kite could hardly throw a boulder with any impressive speed or force, at least while competing with his mentor. He needed to be clever, and at least two steps ahead.

The mindless unpredictability he had woven into his Nen ability had had the rather accommodating effect of giving him and his opponent the exact same time to figure out the next step, except the scale had always been tipped in favour of Kite himself in battle. He would be getting one of the predetermined weapons, which incidentally, he was skilled enough to wield with utmost confidence, while his opponent still needed to figure out Kite’s next steps, leaving a perfect opening for an attack.

Still, he should have known better than to allow himself to fall into the comfort of familiarity, especially when not relying on his Hatsu to get him through the battle as he had done for the past year.

Stopping in his tracks, Kite turned to face his opponent, only to find the clearing stretching under the sun, empty save for squirrels disturbed from their hiding places racing to another. Wiping sweat off his brow, his eyes darted across the trees, searching any indication for where Ging could have hidden. If only he could use Gyo or En…

A tap on his shoulder and Kite froze, icy fingers of dread leaving a path down his spine.

“Is it still backstabbing if I don’t actually stab you?”

Not wanting to give his opponent enough time to strike, Kite turned on his heel, bringing his scraped elbow down on where he presumed Ging’s face to be with as much force as he could muster.

When his attack landed on empty air, his loss became as clear as the sky above their heads, bitter cold and all-encompassing in its sheer inevitability.

“Better watch your back!” Came from behind him once more, and Kite turned just in time for a fist to collide with his jaw.

White hot explosion of pain travelled from the point of impact and seeped below the skin, into the bone, blooming into a buzzing in the back of his head, a sharp ringing in his ears. The harsh clacking of teeth against each other with the telltale taste of copper on his tongue, a memory he had lived a hundred times, a life he could never hope to outrun.

Finding himself kneeling, his arm came up to block a kick, the momentum aiding him in standing up and taking a few paces back to avoid yet another attack. With his vision tilting from side to side, he had to navigate the battle feeling as if standing on a ship, clumsy stumbles in place of his earlier precise steps.

A strike which Kite had presumed to be a feint caught him in the abdomen, then his mentor’s boot collided with his right leg, thus effectively knocking him off balance and soon Kite found himself tumbling down the rocky terrain. The world blended into smears of blue and russet brown, passing him by as his arms came up to protect his head. A jagged stone dug into his back, tearing through his already torn shirt and scratching across the skin of his shoulder without mercy.

Startled, he only barely brought himself to a stop before reaching a steep drop, hand shooting out to grab at a protruding stone and leaving a small smear of blood behind. That only gave him a moment to find his footing again before having to dodge Ging, having landed with great force and leaving a crater where Kite had laid seconds ago. Each step threatened to have him on his knees, sweat and dirt seeping into skinned knees and elbows. His jaw had begun to throb in time with his rapid heartbeat; soon he would need to surrender or risk an even more precarious fall down the mountain.

But Ging wouldn’t accept that.

“Slow today, Kaito!” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval as Kite stumbled back to avoid another hit, hand coming up to trace a new scratch on his cheek. “Get your head back in the game right now or-“

Before the chastising threat could be said, Kite lunged at Ging, jumping over his head and spinning before he landed, managing a kick at his mentor’s back which barely fazed him, but even the small victory of cutting a speech short tasted sweet enough.

But after a clumsy landing, his right leg gave out under him with a burst of pain through the back of his thigh; before Ging could retaliate, Kite raised his arms in surrender and sprawled onto the ground, regretting it immediately as more dirt rubbed into the open scratches across his back with a sting.

Nearly 5 years of being a Nen user had made him forget the ordinary aches that came as a natural side effect of battle. Sore muscles could be avoided with Enhancement, cuts and bruises reduced to a minimum with careful application of Ten and well, with Kite’s Crazy Slots, battles would be won without question.

“Admitting defeat so soon?” Ging’s silhouette blocked out the sun, a black blot against the impossibly bright sky, and Kite draped his forearm across his tired eyes, fighting the urge to curl up onto himself. “You know, I expect much more from you, even without Nen.”

As if his own disappointment in his performance hadn’t been enough, hearing his mentor’s made shame bubble up in his chest, heavy and cold and unforgiving in its cutting acidity. It didn’t matter that they had been at this since morning and late noon sun hung burning above their heads, or that he had been sparring without Nen or weapons for weeks and it did not get any easier with time. No, what mattered was that Kite had failed a challenge he had set for himself, and thus failed Ging and his teachings.

With a groan he sat up, brushing back the hair plastered to his forehead and proceeded to bend his aching leg, chewing the inside of his cheeks as pain lanced through the back of his calf with the movement, stopping him in his tracks. “Think I pulled a hamstring.”

Ging’s somber scowl dissolved in an instant, giving its place to surprise as he knelt by Kite’s side and reached for his leg. “Shit buddy, barely a week out from the hunter exam and now-“ He stifled a yelp as Ging maneuvered his leg, bending and straightening it slowly and failing to conceal the concern setting in. “-Yeah, alright. It’s just a mild strain. Lucky break.”

Lucky. Now, after everything, the word rang hollow and bitter. It would be a disservice to himself and to the battles before, whether won or lost, to attribute the outcome to something as intangible and abstract as luck.

But he hadn’t based his whole ability on that exact concept to dismiss it outright.

Ging rose to his feet and held out his hand, mood now visibly less sour even with his eyebrows still knitted together.

“If you’d torn something, you could kiss this year’s exam goodbye as well.”

Snickering, Kite took his hand and pulled himself up, avoiding putting too much weight on his leg, already thrumming with aura to keep it from further injury.

“No way in hell I’m missing this year too.” With a wince, he began stretching his arms above his head, and then his less-injured leg. “Even if I had to show up with leg braces, I would. This is it, Ging-san. I’m getting my hunter license this year no matter what happens.”

Looking up at Ging, he did not expect the small smile his mentor gave him, hand patting Kite’s shoulder curtly. “And you better, buddy. You’re more than qualified now.”

The words, no doubt meant as assurances or even a compliment, instead only managed to plant the seed of doubt in the pit of his chest, chilling Kite to the core. Yes, he was qualified, had been for years in fact, and more than willing to take the exam in order to rid himself of the uncertainty looming in the distance, always a step behind and two ahead. There was no going back to his life before , and no way forward without solidifying his status as a hunter.

And his mentor spoke with confidence not only in Kite but in his own ability as a teacher, in the belief that he had taught a fine student who could overcome anything, yet he didn’t know of the nightmares plaguing Kite’s mind or the shaking of his hands every time he allowed himself to think far enough ahead into a future where he no longer lived under Ging’s tutelage and needed to face the world by himself. No, he believed in a perfectly constructed version of Kite, with all his faults and weaknesses plastered over, cracks hidden under layers upon layers of “I’m fine”s and hollow smiles.

Kite limped after his mentor as they trekked down the mountain towards their rented Jeep, and wondered how he had managed to hide his fundamental weakness from Ging, put on enough of a brave face to fool him into believing he had come out of several near misses of death stronger than before, and not a fear-ridden mess that forged his soul into killing weapons only to feel safe enough to keep going.

Even with the warm breeze blowing through his hair he could still feel the chill of the blade against his palm, too deep to ever outrun, a reminder that he would always carry the coldness within himself.

Upon reaching a rather steep decline Ging insisted on helping him down, reaching a hand out to Kite which he refused with a shake of the head, earning himself low grumblings about “ stubbornness ” and “ stupidity ”. When he stumbled rather dangerously close to a drop, his mentor ignored Kite’s persistence over walking on his own and caught him by the arm.

“I’m not taking any more chances with you. Last thing we need is you nosediving all the way down there.” He snapped, pulling Kite’s arm around his shoulders after gesturing to where the cliff cut off, dozens of evergreens dancing at the bottom of the valley, branches reaching high to the sky.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Despite his protests, Kite allowed himself to relax against his mentor, giving his leg a much-needed moment of respite. “I’ve already gotten started on the healing.”

“As you should be. Can’t be limping around like this during the exam, you know.”

In moments like this, when the jabs took the shape of fussing over instead, he had to wonder if Ging too had become restless and nervous at 12, lying awake at night counting the days until the exam, dreading and yearning for it at the same time, heart racing at the mere thought of failure and visualizing his success in a hundred different ways. Considering how aloof and careless his mentor was, it would be unlikely, even as a child, to imagine him as anything less than certain and commanding.

Kite’s entire body sagged in relief when their parked vehicle finally came into view, and shamelessly melted into the passenger seat upon reaching it, lifting his still aching leg to rest on the dashboard. A glance in the side-view mirror shocked him with the new scratches and scuff marks stretching across his right cheekbone and chin, accompanied by the not-yet-formed bruise spreading over his jawline.

Ging threw himself onto the seat next to him and nudged his leg, clicking his tongue while searching for the ignition keys.

“Shoes off the rental stuff. Unless you wanna clean it before I give it back.” Kite complied with a joking huff. Rummaging through the pile of mess on the backseat, excavating equipment and tools tossed in haphazardly, Ging patted Kite’s shoulder before passing him a water bottle. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this beat, Kaito.”

As Kite pressed the cool bottle against his throbbing temples, he could still sense the other’s eyes on him, and the question lingering behind the last statement. He opened the bottle with trembling, sore hands and poured some water over his palm before wiping the shallow cuts on his face. Funny how he was still hesitant to seem anything less than impervious in front of someone who had seen him at his weakest. His eyes fell shut as he took a slow sip, washing away the lingering taste of blood.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” The engine came to life with a spluttering roar, and Kite reached for the seatbelt, earning himself a scoff from Ging. “And in my defence, it’s been a long time since I’ve had to make do without Nen.”

Ging gave him a sidelong glance while adjusting the rearview mirror, scowling in the particular way he did when facing an unanticipated problem. “Yeah. What’s that about anyways? Getting your ass kicked right before the exam isn’t such a smart idea, buddy.”

“I wanted to make sure I still had hand-to-hand combat down without having to rely on Nen.” Eyes glued to the passing by scenery, Kite followed the jagged edges of the mountain against the sapphire blue sky and shifted in his seat, unable to get his leg in a comfortable position while trapped in a cramped space. He reached for his blue cap sitting on the dashboard, fingers absentmindedly rubbing away a small spot of dirt, or coal. “You were right, you know, when you said people start to fall back on their weapons too much and forget the basics. I can't afford to be entirely reliant on my Hatsu, not when it's-” Trailing off and allowing his head hang back as if he could pick out the right words from between the clouds, Kite grimaced. Not when it's so final. 

“Yep.” Tapping on the steering wheel to an unheard tune, Ging clicked his tongue, nodding in thought. “Still, I think you should’ve put your focus into your Hatsu instead. Could’ve done the image training for a whole new weapon in the past month. Who knows, you might need it later in the exam.”

Kite could sense his mentor’s gaze burning holes in the side of his head, and he kept staring out the window out of sheer stubbornness, following the birds soaring high and carefree over the forest canopy. With a deep breath, he readied himself for the argument guaranteed to ensue after this, all while his aching and beaten body begged for a long nap, for undisturbed oblivion.

“I don’t want to use Nen during the exam.” No reaction from Ging, not even the telling deep breath he took before a lecture. “I think I’m going to only rely on my physical skills, just like everyone else.” Still nothing, only the whirring of the engine and his own racing heart. “And I’m not worried about it! I know I can-“

Ging’s hand landed on the back of his head hard enough to knock the hat off his head, but not carrying enough force to actually hurt. Looking up and seeing Ging’s jaw hanging open in disbelief almost made him break out in a bout of laughter.

Almost, if he didn’t fear getting kicked out of the car.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Just checking to see if you dislodged your damned brain or something, since this is a stupid fucking idea!”

Kite withdrew into himself at the half shout, feeling his cheeks heating up. “I thought since learning Nen typically comes after the exam itself it would only be fair to other applicants if we were all equal-“

“Fair!” Interrupting with a harsh bark of laughter, Ging tapped the steering wheel harder, turning to him with wide eyes. “Nothing’s fair in life, Kite, you must know this better than everyone else.”

“But-“

“And the hunter exam was never designed to be fair .” Kite fell quiet as his mentor continued to speak over him, waving his hand around with every syllable and coming too close to colliding with his nose once or twice. “The whole point of it is to get from the beginning to the end using all the skills at your disposal. Whether they be combat abilities, weaponry or yes, Nen!”

The snappy tone dragged Kite back to the dark years he craved to forget, the dingy orphanages occupied by caretakers without enough love to give, dubbing him ungrateful or a waste of space for god knows what reason, Almost a decade later and thousands of miles away he felt no different, still the same ungrateful child, denying the gift he had been handed so freely .

He hadn’t spent a lifetime struggling to still be stuck in the same place, not when he had run so far away.

“Well in that case I may as well show up and draw Silent Waltz in the first phase and be over with it all in one neat sweep, shall I?” Kite didn’t quite shout, but his voice rose enough to earn a brow raise from Ging, who in turn also grinned inexplicably. When the true reality of what he had just proposed in a fit of anger sank in, Kite sat lower in his seat, head now spinning and vision blurring.

“A lot of people do that, or something similar at least.” Almost reluctant, Ging turned his gaze back to the dirt road towards the town. “Question is, can you do that?”

Developing Crazy Slots had saved his life in a way, having less to do with the weapons themselves and more with the assurance it provided, knowing no matter what he could fight back, stronger than his opponent. And if he still lost-

Well, it had never hurt to think too far into the future, all while dreading it. With every spin of the wheel, the die would be cast, but with a rigged system he had so selfishly designed to tip the scales in his favour, Kite would be the one walking away each time, whether head held high in victory or crawling in the shame of loss, but he would still survive. No matter the cost, he remembered saying one night eons ago, clutching a dagger with fingers that no longer felt like his, by taking a life or stealing one, I have to survive. Yet, now with a contract etched over his heart, he could bear no more of the soul-crushing weight of guilt that came from ending a life. Eventually, it would drown him, leaving no room for the meager life he had fought so hard to keep.

Swallowing past the nausea threatening to double him over, Kite shook his head no.

“Look Kaito, I’m gonna be honest with you. You’re too, what’s the word, noble for your own damn good. If you wanna keep it fair, that’s fine. You’re more than capable of passing the exam without Nen-“ The warm rush of pride brought over by the earlier sentence was snuffed out by the next before he could begin to savour it. “-but haven’t you considered that there’ll definitely be other Nen users applying for the exam? How’re you gonna deal with them, huh?”

The reality of the statement hit him in its utter predictability, one he had so obviously missed. How could he have failed to consider this at all? Of course there would be other Nen users, possibly even more powerful than him, and then-

He pulled his fringe back, tugging at the roots while biting down on his lip. “Ging san, what do I do if I run into other Nen users in the exam? What if at some point I’ll have to battle them or-“

Ging held his hand up, sighing. “Chill out buddy. I can’t guarantee any of these won’t happen, but if you control the flow of your aura to appear like a non-user, maybe you can fool them into leaving you alone. If they find out you’re Nen user too though-“ With a vague, sweeping gesture to the landscape, he continued, nonchalant as always, but his eyes flicking back and forth from the road to Kite carried a sense of urgency that made his stomach tie in knots. “-It could mean trouble. So yeah, your best bet is hiding right under their noses.”

“Trouble how?”

“Eh, since you’re competing, they’ll either be after other Nen users to eliminate or team up with, only to turn against you when it serves them. Best to steer clear of it all.” A worrying scraping noise rang out from under the car, and the engine gave an oddly animalistic whine, yet Ging drove on without acknowledging it, merely smacking the dashboard once. “Don’t fall into allyships or teams, because whoever’s your ‘friend’ in one phase of the exam might be your opponent in the next.”

“Oh.” Between the possibility of having to face other Nen users in battle once again and their car breaking down before getting to the town of Veda, Kite found himself chewing his nails with nerves, only realizing after the bitter taste of nail polish bit at his tongue.

“And let’s face it Kaito, you’re not the best when it comes to teamwork.” Ging snorted, nudging Kite’s shoulder with his. The car swerved to the right, and then to the left as he struggled to correct the path.

Pausing while trying to spit out the nail polish chunks, he looked down at his mentor with a raised brow. “What do you mean?”

Another snort which devolved into a giggle, confusing Kite further. “Who was it that made one of my interns cry on that excavating site back in summer? What did you say exactly? That he should never have been allowed in the ten mile radius of the dig and he better be using his master’s degree as a napkin or take a job as a professional clown since that’s what he’s good at ?”

Letting out a haughty scoff, Kite crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks once more. “He was destroying the artifacts with that-“ Ging laughed, doubling over with a hand on his stomach. “-Goddamn might as well have gone to town on the dig with a shovel!” At this point, he had rested his forehead against the steering wheel, snorting and wheezing. Kite sighed, shaking his head in resignation. “Okay, you may have a point.”

“Of course I do. You wanna do everything yourself. Even if someone else does it first, like packing the equipment-“ Ging wiped away the tears brought on by the giggling fit, still snickering to himself.

“Respectfully, Ging-san, your idea of packing is throwing shit in the back of the car without any regards for the more fragile-“

Ging waved a hand, cutting in and batting away Kite’s hand gesturing to the pile of mess in the backseat. “-tomayto tomahto. Point is, you’re a fucking nightmare to work with. So the other applicants are much more likely to wanna take you out instead of teaming up.”

“That’s concerning.” Once again, Kite took to chewing on his fingernails. “In conclusion, I must make sure to fly under their radar.”

Their vehicle almost came to a stop, groaning across the uneven road. With the state of the car and his mentor’s aversion to ever changing the gear, Kite readied himself for a long hike to the city. A few experimental bending of his knee proved it to not have miraculously healed in the past hour, leaving him hissing in pain. Ging clicked his tongue and continued to drive without any indication of concern.

“Yeah. But that wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so averse to using your Crazy Slots. Come on, don’t die on me now-“ As if understanding, the Jeep tore off with an unexpected speed, Ging’s barking laugh fading in the rush of air and wind ruffling Kite’s hair. “What’s the fucking point of a super complex and restricting system that powers insanely overpowered weapons if you don’t ever use it?”

Kite’s hand clenched into fists, knuckles straining against white skin, and the afternoon breeze did nothing to mask the chill spreading through his body. “You know why. There’s too high a price to pay if I get a bad roll.”

“Only for your opponent.”

“That’s my exact point.” He snapped, the faint grin playing on his mentor’s lips grating on his nerves, a silent mockery to his plight, however untrue that may have been.

With a short exhale, something that could either be a curt laugh or a sigh, Ging reached over and patted him on the shoulder, hand lingering for a fleeting moment before retreating. “You know the conditions are determined by yourself, right? Drawing a weapon doesn’t need to end in-“

A sudden, repeating tune interrupted him, and they both froze at the unfamiliarity of the noise. Abandoning the steering wheel altogether, Ging grabbed for his duffel bag in the back seat, rifling for his rarely seen and even less used cell phone. Kite yelped as the car lost control, clinging to the car door for his dear life until Ging finally retrieved his phone and brought the car to a stop by the side of the road.

Flicking his phone open, Ging turned the stereo on and an old, familiar pop song poured from the speakers, his mentor’s favourite mixtape blaring louder than Kite’s fluttering heart.

“How the hell did you get this number now-“ He jumped out without sparing Kite another glance, slamming the door behind himself hard enough to rattle the whole car. Kite leaned over and silenced the music, following his mentor’s shape as he walked further away from the vehicle, gesturing animatedly yet not talking loud enough to be heard, even with the stereo turned off.

Having spent nearly 5 whole years travelling with Ging, Kite could count the number of times his mentor’s phone had rung on one hand, and could not recall him stepping away to take the call even once. Considering what he knew of the nature of his rather complicated relationship with a certain blond git, he could understand his mentor’s need for space. After all, they were both entitled to their privacy. Even if it lead to more than unsavory company.

But who was Kite to judge?

Using the last of his water and a stray strip of gauze left in the first aid kit, he wiped away any dirt and beads of dried blood from his knuckles before moving to his face, glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The red patch spanning his jaw had darkened into blood on snow, tender when his fingers pressed on it but distant, not reaching past the whirring cogs of what ifs and if onlys all stacking up high into a tower destined to collapse. Still, patching himself up helped however frivolous and unnecessary while having Nen at his disposal, distracted him enough to stay in the present instead of toppling over to the jagged past or dark future. A bandaid on the pink cut on his cheek, stinging anti-septic on his jaw, and Kite once again found his hands idle. His eyes drew to a lone, bent tree some ways down the road, and he could almost make out Ging leaning against the trunk, shadowed under the sparse leaves. Shaking his head to himself, Kite pushed his seat back and laid down, getting as comfortable as possible as his knees popped.  

Idly stretching his arms far over his head, Kite began flexing his fingers, grimacing when his scraped skin touched cold metal where there should have only been empty air, heard click click clicking of a trigger ready to fire and the thunderous, reverberating roar of a shot seeping all the way down to his bones.

Even when not summoned, the phantoms of his weapons haunted his waking moments. A whole year of non-stop image training would have such an effect, he supposed. Still so, he longed for the days before, when his throat didn’t yet know the cold press of a blade and his sore hands the deep crimson of blood not his own, before his Nen had twisted into something sharp and insensible, a need to lash out and hurt in the name of protection, seeking nothing but self-preservation.

As a child he had read somewhere “A sword never kills, it is but a tool in a killer’s hand.” And for so long he had tried to convince himself that his hands had been forced to strike out with his weapons, to shrug off the blame and clear his conscience.

Now, with his hands spread across his vision, marked with callouses and battle marks and a lifetime of running, a selfish, cruel part of his mind mocked his trepidation in Crazy Slot’s shrill laugh, whispering ‘any tool could be a weapon if held right.’ and he damn knew even empty-handed, he would always find a way to keep the only possession he had ever been able to call his own, the one thing he would never be willing to give up.

Pride, dignity, hope… Those had all been stolen from him too soon, before he had been able to grasp the fact, but his life? The astronomically impossible second chance he had been given?

No. However unfair, immoral, or cruel it would be to cling to it, Kite would. And if it came down to a choice in the hunter exam…

Well, it had never been truly a choice. No way but going forwards.

He startled upright when the car door was wrenched open and a scowling Ging took his place behind the wheel once more, tossing his phone over his shoulder without care and letting it clatter away amongst the mess in the backseat. His aura wavered around his form like steam rising from water, burning like fire in hues of red, orange and blue. But Kite did not have to observe his mentor’s aura with Gyo to know that he hadn’t found whatever conversation had transpired favourable.

Cussing under his breath, Ging finally started the car, took a sharp U-turn and peeled off in the opposite direction of the town and their current archeological dig, instead going towards the capital of Begrrösse Union, Paikan. Kite opened his mouth to correct their path, then closed it, and repeated the process a few times until finally gathering enough courage for a tentative question, shoulders hunching down in trepidation.

“Everything alright?”

A curt nod and the corners of Ging’s mouth turned down even further, morphing into an almost comical scowl. “Yeah. Just a change of plans. Gonna catch an airship to Swardani instead.”

“Oh.” Bringing his hand to his mouth, Kite failed to muffle a snicker escaping him at the news. “ I see .”

“For business only .” Ging gave him a sidelong glance, seeming to be challenging him to a debate on the matter, a rebuttal to be stamped over without mercy. Kite knew him all too well to fall for the bait.

“Of course. Just that if you want to visit a certain Mr. Hill while we’re at it-” But…he did not have enough of a grip on himself to not spare a tiny jab. “-You absolutely should, and I will not jud-“

The car came to a screeching halt, and Ging turned to face him, flushing to the roots of his hair. “Really feeling up to running all the way to the airport? Because I’ll kick you out if you keep this up.”

Biting down on his tongue hard enough to taste iron, Kite shook his head and curled onto himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and fighting back another snicker. Grumbling under his breath, Ging turned to the road, now far more reckless and distracted as he drove down the winding mountain road and fiddled with the stereo with his free hand.

The keyed up Nen of his mentor raised the tension in the closed space of the car, making Kite want to crawl out of his own skin. Very few things brought out that particular stinging edge, and now, a barrier stretched out between Kite and Ging. Scratching at his scraped knuckles, he went over their spar, reviewed every move and false step, wondering if he was to blame and not the phone call.

“Instead of staring at me, how about you get to healing that leg?”

Kite looked away with a start and dropped his hands, now sensing heat rise to his own cheeks. Ging snorted and reached for the stereo, turning the volume even higher. Once again directing his aura to his leg, he settled into the familiar process of visualizing the injury and the accelerated mending of it, first the muscles, then the nerves, all the way up to the skin. Most Conjurers would require a deep state of meditation to make any significant headway in healing themselves, with enhancement being two categories removed.

Yet, with his fair share of injuries and having one of the best Nen users as his teacher, Kite had long since learned to rise to the challenge without question, to make the impossible achievable without breaking a sweat even if his spine creaked and bowed under the weight of it all.

One more challenge , he thought, and then it would be over. No more hunting to live, counting days with the past still burning hot under his heels.

No more living as the hunted.

***

The Hunter Association headquarters stood as a gleaming pillar in the middle of Swardani city, a glass and metal monument adorned with the twin crosses cutting vivid red through the sheet of snow fluttering to the ground in a silent stream.

The last time Kite had stepped into the building half a decade ago, he had been a shivering 14 year old, a foot shorter and clinging to Ging’s arm in a hopeless death grip, watching as smiling faces turned sour at his sight and expected to be thrown out onto the streets, but not without a fight destined to be lost.

Now, a hunter in all but name and worlds away from that scared, hungry child, he still ducked behind his mentor when they entered through the tall glass doors, biting the inside of his cheeks as their boots left muddied footprints on the spotless floors, gloved hands clutching at his coat to stop them from trembling. Acutely aware of the water dripping from his wet ponytail, his eyes darted around, every voice raised louder than a hushed murmur setting off his alarm bells.

When the hairs on the back of his neck raised in the trained response to being watched, he turned his head, spotting an imposing security guard supposedly glaring at him from behind dark lenses, no doubt eying his travel worn clothes and the still healing cuts and bruises littering his face. Breath caught in his throat, Kite continued on walking until colliding with what felt like a boulder threw him off balance, and let out a horrified squeak when he looked down to see his mentor raising a brow at him. Ging, having stopped in front of the elevator reached out and caught his arm, sparing him a sidelong and bored glance as the reflective elevator doors slid open and they shuffled inside, gesturing as Kite hesitated.

“You can either take the lift or run up approximately 200 stairs, buddy. Up to you.”

Kite gulped, looking around the enclosed, albeit spacious elevator and avoiding meeting the eyes of the other passengers growing increasingly annoyed. To be confined to a box with no way out brought back all the times he had felt trapped and stuck, the days he fought and ran without ever making a headway towards the light. His hand came up to the scar on his throat, the thin white line that burned a brand and a reminder at the impermanence of everything he held dear, and took a shaky step into the elevator. However much a closed room set his teeth on edge, he couldn’t afford to show weakness, not when his mentor tapped his foot in impatience and expectance.

With a cheerful ding the doors closed behind him and Kite’s hand tightened in the collar of his turtleneck when they lifted off the ground, the floor seeming to sway like a ship on stormy seas and sending him stumbling to the back of the elevator. A woman who had not once looked up from the hefty file in her hands stepped aside nonchalantly, allowing him to lean against the back wall of the elevator and attempt to get a hold of himself.

From the back, Ging stood as rigid and still as a statue, arms crossed and shoulders held tight with invisible lines of tension. If Kite hadn’t known his long enough, he would mistake the worry woven into his mentor’s every move as an outwardly arrogance. He had been awfully quiet during their flight; no hour long tangents about whatever latest fascination or hunt that had gotten his attention, no more fretting about the hunter exam or the fact that Kite was adamant about not using Nen during it, only creeping out of his cabin every few hours with a snide reminder to do something productive rather than stare out the window all day before disappearing again, claiming to be thinking.

When the elevator came to a stop on the 12th floor, Ging strode out without a word, narrowly avoiding a nasty collision with a couple of hurried hunters wheeling in a trolley, a sheet blackened and burned around the edges covering what appeared to be a large cage. With apologies mumbled under his breath and careful to not step on anyone’s shoes, Kite followed his mentor out of the elevator, eager to stand in a space where the ceiling didn’t end two inches above his head.

While passing the trolley, it let out a low, guttural growl not like anything he had heard before, and he froze in his tracks, reaching a hand out to the cage without thinking, catching a glimpse of iridescent scales and flapping wings. No sooner than he had lifted the sheet, a prolonged hiss rang out, followed by a burst of sparks and then a stream of blue-while flames. He leaped out of the way, the heat of the flames biting at his coattails. The shorter hunter swore and pulled the sheet back down while the other rushed to his side, face blanched.

“Wotcher, kid! You would’ve been pushin’ daisies just like that!” They snapped their fingers by Kite’s face, and he almost raised his arm to bat their hand away on instinct. Instead, he stepped closer to the cage, throwing a glance at the scorched wallpaper where the flames had left a still-smoldering patch of black soot. “Going extinct by something on the brink of extinction wouldn’t be a shabby way to go though.”

“Reflective scales, Chiropetran wings…that’s a Salamandra pyreticus , isn’t it? A Wyvern .” Unable to keep a smile spreading on his face, Kite knelt by the cage, again reaching to lift the sheet. “Last I heard, there was only a handful of them left…I never thought I’d get to see-”

The shorter hunter seized his wrist and pushed the cage away a fair distance, eyes darting back and forth between Kite and the rattling cage. “You got a damned death wish? That thing’ll fry you without a thought and you wanna take a look at it like it’s a pretty lizard ?”

With both hunters looking down at him and exchanging glances between themselves, his face began to grow warm, the absolute glee of getting to witness a member of a nearly extinct species wilting away. Wrenching his hand away to pull his hat down over his eyes, Kite straightened up, listening to the Wyvern as the noises became less like growls and more as if whining .

“Barely 80 inches if it fits in that cage…that’s a newborn.” Looking down at the hunters, he unwrapped his scarf. “It’s calling for its mother, and freezing. Wyverns are cold-blooded, they-”

The shorter one shook his head, arm shooting out to stop Kite, voice rising with each word. “I don’t care. We’re bounty hunters, not beast hunters. Our job was to capture and deliver as many of these lil bastards to this Ginta guy, except the conservation program is falling through or something, but that’s his problem, not ours. We already got one of our guys in the hospital because of this one!” Punctuating the sentence with a kick to the trolley, he let out a sigh, face flushed.

“Figured you weren’t beast hunters.” A small, bitter smile tugged at Kite’s lips, and he stepped around the hunter before he could move to stop him. Kneeling by the covered cage, he slipped his scarf through the bars and jumped back right before another stream of flames hit him. The hunter pulled him back uselessly, yelping. “If you were, you’d know Wyverns build a wall of dry twigs around their nests and set them on fire to keep their young warm, and happy. When they’re cold, well…” He gestured to the scorch mark, the hunters both still alarmed, exchanged a dumbfounded look.

“Alright, but what was that thing with the scarf?” The taller one asked, hand coming up to scratch at their head.

Instead of answering, Kite ripped the sheet off in one swift motion, exposing smaller flames surrounding a tiny, scaly creature with wrinkled wings pulled over its head, comfortably nestled in the smoldering remains of Kite’s scarf. The other two flinched back, but when the Wyvern didn’t move to lash out, they stepped closer, a glint of awe reflecting off their eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Letting out a shuddering breath and clapping him on the back, the shorter hunter grinned. “If only we’d known we only needed to keep it warm to prevent disaster.”

Fingers tentatively twitching, Kite reached through the bars of the cage and ran his hand over the Wyvern's back, scales smooth and warm under his fingertips. One amber eye peeked at him from under the still-developing wings, slit pupil relaxed and round. “Now you can transfer it without issue. Just make sure the fire doesn’t go out.”

Before either of the two could reply, heavy footsteps came to a stop behind them, and a familiar, impatient clear of the throat rang out. Kite shot up, chewing the inside of his cheeks as he turned to face Ging.

“I look away from you for 2 minutes and you’re already halfway to adopting a fire breathing lizard .” He clicked his tongue, regarding the cage with mild interest rather than knitted brows. “If you’re done, we’ve got things to do.”

“You mean you do.” Kite mumbled under his breath, looking back at the small Wyvern one more time. It would be fine, the whole species would be soon enough.

Pushing the trolley away with much less nerves than before, one of the hunters turned back and waved. “Nice kid you’ve got there, mate.” They said to Ging, who blanched as Kite sputtered, gesturing between themselves and unable to form words.

“I- in what world do we look related ??” Ging shouted after the two, shaking a fist. “Oi, I’m only 5 years older than him! Do I look ancient to you, you a-“

“Seven.” Kite cut in, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “I’m 19-ish this year.”

“Whatever.” With a dismissive wave, Ging walked away, shoulders hunched down and hands shoved deep in his pockets. Kite followed suit, a few steps behind.

“You being so offended at being perceived as my father could be offensive to me, you know.” He feigned a scowl, drawing out each word. Ging either did not hear him, or pretended not to, eyes glued to the end of the corridor “Not that I am. It’s just odd, that’s all. You rarely ever care that-“

Coming to a sudden stop in front of a receptionist’s desk, Ging put his hand out to stop Kite from colliding with him, huffing under his breath before addressing the young woman tapping away on a computer.

“Hey, so I’m here to see-“

Her head snapped up, and in an instant a polite customer service smile bloomed across her face. “Good afternoon, Mr. Freecss! Mr. Hill hasn’t come in yet, would you like to wait or leave a message like usual?”

Kite bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and still let out a snort, doubling over and shaking. Ging kicked his shin before turning to the confused receptionist, cheeks darkening all the way up to his ears.

“I’m here to see Beans, dammit!”

Her smile returned, albeit wan, eyes darting between Kite, still snorting and clutching his leg, to a quietly fuming Ging who appeared to be trying very hard to not kick Kite again.

“Oh well, Mr. Beans is in the middle of a meeting at the moment-“

“Where?” Before she could reply, he huffed, shaking his head and tearing away from the desk. “Nevermind. Gonna find him myself. Dragged me two continents away-“

Flashing the receptionist a polite smile, Kite ran after his mentor, wringing his hands together.

“You stay here, buddy. I have a bone to pick with the baldie.”

And so Kite simply watched as Ging disappeared around a corner in a blue-gray blur. Only then did he realize how his still-wet boots squeaked on the impossibly sleek marble floors, that his patched-up coat looked too ratty compared to the receptionist or the handful of people passing through this floor, and although no one seemed to be paying any attention to him, he sensed eyes on himself even when tucked in a relatively deserted corner.

He had just reached for one of his books when he felt it: the unfortunately familiar aura, all heavy smoke and stifling tar closing in like a boa constrictor, the dizzying scent of vanilla overwhelming all other senses.

Pariston Hill was close by, and Kite had absolutely no intention of engaging with him ever again.

Not risking exposing himself with En, he decided to trust his instincts and ran the opposite way, taking a right down a narrower corridor and growing increasingly more frantic upon hearing the telltale, nerve-grating sound of polished expensive shoes on the marble floors.

Making his way to the end of the corridor with two long strides, Kite threw the nearest door open and stumbled inside, looking for something to jam the door handle with.

A shape moved in the dim room, outlined by the weak light streaming in through the large window, and porcelain clicked on porcelain, a hand softly laying down a cup of tea. Flattened against the door like a deer caught in headlights, Kite did not expect the laughter he received in response to his intrusion, let alone one so comical, a perfect three-syllable ‘ho-ho-ho’.

“What great timing! I just brewed a fresh pot.” With his eyes adjusting to the darkness, Kite could make out a veiled smile behind a white beard, a pair of surprisingly alert and gleaming eyes blinking under bushy eyebrows. The old man gestured to the small square table and the tea set upon it. “How do you like lemongrass green tea?”

“I’m-“ Kite took a tentative step away from the door, hand still clutching the handle. “-sorry, I believe I-“

“Was trying to hide from someone, correct? That would make two of us.” Setting out another teacup, the old man held the ornate pot in a delicate grip and ran his free hand over his beard. “No reason you can’t join me for tea while doing exactly that. Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”

Under his sharp gaze, Kite’s tense shoulders relaxed, and he felt so small, as if standing before a mountain with an unfathomable summit. The seemingly feeble old man’s presence reached out far beyond Kite’s comprehension, drowning out Pariston’s aura and the hundred others brimming in the building.

His instincts had been honed razor-sharp to recognize danger in a blink of an eye, primal senses warning him before his brain could catch up. It had been a vital skill to survive living in the streets, and then trailing behind a reckless hunter with no one but himself watching his back.

And now, they told him the old man was anything but ordinary, and while meaning no harm, to consider himself ‘safe’ would be folly. Not only here, but anywhere , Kite thought to himself as he took his place opposite the old man and graciously accepted the cup of tea.

The white-bearded man regarded him from across the table, taking a loud sip of his tea and shifting in place. “What scares you so much?”

Something shifted in the air, Kite’s hand freezing while bringing the cup to his lips and tightening, the aromatic liquid overflowing when his whole body trembled under the pressure of being so utterly known; With the old man’s aura turned to him all at once like a thousand unblinking eyes, he couldn’t hide the spike in his own aura, or the twitch in his legs as he contemplated bolting out and taking his chance with Pariston.

Another laugh, now less a perfectly constructed melody but harboring a note of mischievousness underneath, and the harmless old man façade cracked a fraction.

“No need to look so alarmed, young man. Anyone could tell if they knew what to look for.” He ran a hand over his beard, still chuckling. “Forgive me for being rude. My name is Isaac, and my secretary keeps saying I need to take a seminar on proper conversation starters. Maybe I should listen to him after all.”

“Uh.” Kite said, dumbfounded, and opted to take a sip of the tea on the account of his mouth having gone dry. The warmth did nothing to dispel the cold sweat running down his spine. “Nice to- meet you. I’m, uh, Kite.”

Isaac raised a brow, tilting his head to one side as he refilled his own cup. “Introducing yourself like you’re asking a question. Almost as if you’re wondering whether or not you are Kite.”

“Excuse me?” He rasped out, a weak laugh escaping him in the form of an exhale. Isaac sat back, eyes boring into his with a certain twinkle that set his teeth on edge. He continued as if Kite hadn’t spoken at all, gesturing at him with his teacup.

“Or maybe thinking that simply being Kite wouldn’t be enough, that you’ll always need to aspire to be more than that, chasing after something for the sake of it, a hunt without a goal.”

Reeling back, Kite set the cup down, lest it slipped through his now numb fingers. A handful of minutes and a perfect stranger read the fear which drove each step, senses catching onto the rough edges of the uncertainty woven so deep into his identity that it could no longer be distinguished from it. He buried his head in his hands and let out a shuddering breath, fighting the tears stinging his eyes. Not now, not after finally pulling himself back together.

Standing up, Kite’s eyes remained glued to his shoes, hair falling over his face in a curtain. Manners be damned, he needed to get away from this strange old man who knew too much and said exactly what unnerving thing he least needed to hear, just like the person he had hoped to avoid. “T- thank you for the tea but…I think I should go now.”

As he turned away, he heard the click of the teacup meeting the table and a blur moved in his periphery, so quick he could have mistaken it for dust floating in the air catching the light just in the right way if it weren’t for Isaac now standing before the door, seeming to struggle with holding in a chuckle.

Despite having grown used to the impossibly quick movements of Nen users, he jumped back, startled at both the sheer speed with which the old man had made his way across the room, and how little effort he appeared to have put to do so. Chest heaving, his aura flowed to his right palm, buzzing under his skin and ready to take the shape of his Crazy Slots.

At that, Isaac’s expression softened, the odd gleam dimming but not completely going away. He stalked over to Kite, shoes clicking on the floor, and laid a hand on his arm, not pulling back when Kite almost flinched away.

“Stop trying to make sense of things that don’t- start thinking with your heart instead.” Laying his other hand on his chest, Isaac looked up at Kite before poking him in the temple. “You keep running in circles in your head, I could tell that straight away. Keep your fear, doubt, anger, everything right here. Don’t let go of them, but don’t let them blind you.”

Kite blinked, weighting the unfamiliar and new advice in his head. Logic dictated for him to expel anything that slowed him down, to outrun his past to where the sky and the ocean met, a neverending race destined to failure. But to keep it all close in his chest-

“Thank you, sir.” He bowed his head, once again moving to leave and keeping a close eye on Isaac for any more sudden movements.

Before he could turn the handle, the old man cleared his throat, and he turned, taken aback by the somber shadow falling over Isaac’s features.

“Find something you want . It’s important that you do, otherwise you’ll never know peace.”

Mouth hanging open in disbelief, Kite considered telling the old man that he had already found what he wanted: to be a hunter. Nothing more, nothing less. But to put the single driving force behind his every action, to explain how his goal had driven him into taking control of his life for once and for all into words would cheapen it all.

So he would listen to his advice, and keep it in his heart.

Isaac’s face brightened in an instant, letting out his trademark laugh and running a hand through his beard as if nothing had happened. “Move along now, I should be getting to my meeting too, sooner than later.”

Kite bowed his head once more and opened the door, throwing a cursory glance down the corridor and sighing of relief when finding it empty.

“Good luck with the hunter exam! And stand up straighter, your back’ll thank you when you get to my age!” Isaac called after him right before the door closed, and Kite paused, trying to recall if he had mentioned the hunter exam during their odd conversation at all.

His legs only carried him a few feet down the corridor before buckling under him, leaving him leaning against the wall holding his heavy head in his hands. Trembling, anger rose in the pit of his chest, a scorching scream coming to a halt right behind his gritted teeth. For so long people loved to pretend they could see right through him, to pick out his thoughts like overripe berries with their hands smeared in his blood, throwing useless advice that only drove the knife deeper, strained his smile until it became a snarl bearing his teeth and all sharp edges. First Ging, then Cheadle, whoever else he stumbled into, they had all given up on trying to pick him apart, to understand, and eventually on helping. Everyone felt compelled to solve whatever mystery they saw in Kite, to find an answer, not to simply accept him as the broken thing he was.

And that old man, he didn’t understand either, but neither did he seem to have any intention of helping. In that way, he truly reminded Kite of Pariston and the perverse joy the blond git gained from tormenting him.

Letting his head rest back against the wall, Kite let out a long sigh and took his hat off, running a hand through his hair hard enough to rip a few silvery strands out. When he opened his eyes, he startled upright at the sight of a shadow standing much closer than comfort and hit the wall with his still-sore shoulder.

“Oi, it’s me. Settle down.” Ging said, raising his arms in surrender and smirking. “Let’s get outta this place before someone else decides to dump their job on me, shall we?”

Kite dusted his hat before replacing it back on his head, pulling the brim low over his eyes and followed after his now chipper mentor. Unlike earlier, Ging actually acknowledged the people greeting him, and even hummed along to the elevator music, no sign of tension remaining at all.

“How did business go?” Kite eventually asked, picking at his calloused fingertips and regarding Ging from under his hair. He looked back over his shoulder, grinning.

“Absolutely horribly.” The elevator came to a stop, and he stepped out, beckoning Kite over from where he stood in stunned silence. “I lost this round. Can’t believe I played right into his hand and he didn’t realize I was doing it on purpose .”

Finally stumbling out behind his mentor, Kite leaned down to his height. “Who? Beans?”

Ging laughed, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck before stepping out into the snow, holding the door open for Kite. “Baldie? No way. Guy wouldn’t know an evil agenda if it stared him right in the face. And he sees evil agenda at work every day .”

Without his scarf, the chilled hands of winds grazed against Kite’s throat and snow trickled down his collar. Ging threw his head back, allowing snowflakes to land on his face with a glee that put any child to shame. Kite turned the collar of his coat up and stood beside his mentor, taking a deep breath and grimacing as it burned all the way down his throat and into his lungs, freezing the blood in his veins all the way to the heart.

“What next?” He asked the usual question even if he knew his next steps would be towards the hunter exam, a shadow looming just behind the horizon and growing ever so closer and heavier.

Ging clicked his tongue, looking up and down the sidewalk and gesturing with his head. “Get a room and crash for a couple of nights, then take off for Ochima and you know the rest. I should get going right about…now.”

“Where?” Kite blurted out without thinking, shoulders drawn up against the cold and the implications of his mentor leaving him to his own devices again . His hand almost moved to grab at Ging, stomach dropping as if missing a step and sinking into a frozen lake, inky black and unable to tell up from down.

“Long story. But it’s for the better.” He came to an abrupt stop, turning to face Kite, turning his old compass in his hand absently. “You know I can’t tell you anything about the location of the exam site; finding it yourself is a part of the exam after all, like your first hunt, but I’ll give you one hint: find the navigators. And try to get on their good side.”

“Navigators?”

“They work with the exam committee, again a big part of the applicant selection. Without them, the applicants won’t reach the exam.” He held his free hand out, and Kite met him in a handshake after staring at it in confusion for a few seconds. Ging smiled, earnest and relaxed for the first time in days. “Remember what I told you. Watch your back during the exam, and don’t get stupid. If things look bad, use Nen.”

“Alright.” With his heart kicking at his ribcage like a desperate animal, Kite mustered a weak smile of his own, meeting Ging’s eyes. “Next time you see me, I’ll finally be a pro hunter.”

Throwing his head back and letting out a bark of laughter, Ging let go of Kite’s hand and clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit, Kaito! And you better, or by gods I’ll kick your ass.” He tore away down the frozen sidewalk, lifting his hand in his own version of a goodbye, which was the absence of one. “Good luck! You’re going to need it!”

Kite shoved his hands in his pockets and watched his mentor disappear down the streets of Swardani and the whirlwind of snow, growing smaller and smaller until it felt as if he stood entirely alone in the world, that nothing existed beyond the white curtains and his own breath fogging up his vision.

Tracing the beads of his rosary tucked safe under his sweater, Kite reached for the memory of the only family he ever had, of the promise made long ago and far, far away.

“Promise me you’ll live, live a beautiful life, and never give up-“

Snow settled on the ground in a silent downpour, and a perfect snowflake fell onto Kite’s outstretched palm, all jagged edges and delicate shapes held together by a wish.

“I’m ready.” He said, a lie only for his own ears, repeated enough times to be polished into a truth sharper than his desperate claws, to draw blood with its certainty.

Now each step echoed with a purpose, and Kite looked straight into the shadow of the unknown future, facing his battle head-on with all the tools at his disposal and fears wrapped into a bundle tucked in a corner to not be seen, and maybe then they would be forgotten.

Chapter Text

The horse-drawn caravan came to a noisy halt several meters before Kite, and a worn straw hat poked out from the front of it, the coachman waving his hand to draw his attention.

“Aye, you’re here for the hunter exam too, right lad?” A tip of the hat accompanied by a warm, gap-toothed smile, and Kite couldn’t help but think how the man seemed like the epitome of the friendly countryman, one that would be printed on the cover of a magazine with the caption trustworthy , how to trick lone travelers walking by the long stretch of a desolate road. “We’ve got some free space back there still, if you’d like to join us. Might be a tight fit for you though, pretty tall fella!”

“That’s awfully kind of you, sir-” Pulling the rim of his hat down against the southern hemisphere sun with one hand, the other went to rest on the katana hanging from his shoulder and tucked safely under his coat. He had reached for his old, trusted weapon in his decision to forgo the use of Nen in the exam, despite it not coming even remotely close to his Conjured weapons in terms of strength and versatility. At least it wouldn’t always force his hand to draw blood, not when it wouldn’t be needed. “-But I won’t trouble you.”

The horses whinnied as he walked past them, but the man did not seem deterred, instead pushing his hat up and leaning down. “Hey there, it’s a long walk to Warrnern and not a lot left till sunset. You sure you can make it there on your own, trekking in the night?”

Kite froze mid-step, head whipping back to glare at the kind-faced man with his hand tightening on the katana. The folded map in his pocket, received upon ‘passing’ the pre-examination test on the airship, pointed to Warrnern, a city near the northern border of the Federation of Ochima and not far from the Meridian sea separating the land from Kakin Empire, and gave little more information. As his mentor had stated, finding the site itself was to be their hunt, to reveal their worthiness to even partake in the exam.

And that didn’t explain how the coachman was aware of the approximate location of the exam site, while also being the only other person he had seen during his day-long trek. Having had his fair share of hitchhiking rides with innocuous smiling men, and having the journey end with new wounds and fresh nightmares to boot, Kite hadn’t found himself too eager to accept the offer in the first place, but now? He turned on his heels, stepping closer to the caravan with his shoulders squared.

“You know that how ?” The katana begged to be unsheathed, almost shuddering the way Crazy Slots did with each roll, an anxious sort of anticipation akin to a hiding animal lashing out with bared claws and fearful snarl. The man, more perceptive than he made himself out to be, held his hands up in surrender, gesturing to the back of the caravan with a nod of his head.

“Relax, fella! We picked up a couple more applicants some ways back, they told me they were goin’ to Warrnern, so I thought to myself you would too!” He laughed as Kite dropped his arm, feeling heat rise to his cheeks and run down the back of his neck. “Me and the family are gonna be stopping at Griffeit, a couple towns from Warrnern. Now, I’m no saint myself, but when I see my fellow man in need, how can I not help?” The following chuckle, hidden behind his hand, came as though personal, laughing at an inside joke Kite was unaware of, doing nothing to comfort the prickling suspicion running up and down his arms.

“So what is it, lad? Joining us?”

The coachman’s eyes shone red from under the rim of his hat, and Kite’s hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon. Trust your instincts. Coming upon an overtly generous and friendly stranger on a deserted stretch of road couldn’t be a coincidence, not when considering the elaborate workings of the hunter exam. It could be as much as a trap as well as the only way to reach the site, a test within a test with no choice being the glaringly correct one. Then, he remembered what Ging had said about the necessity of finding the navigators, and what was the harm in testing his luck on a hunch?

Finally, he gave a slow nod, flexing his gloved hands in his pockets. “I’m thankful for your kindness.”

Turning away from the beaming coachman, he crouched and climbed into the back of the caravan, taking a moment to survey the other occupants from under the rim of his hat as he took a seat by the exit, an easy way out if and when the situation took a turn for the worst. A woman sat closest to him, tanned skin and smile lines matching the coachman, and waved a hand in greeting. Something moved under her ornate shawl, and a small, dark-haired kid poked his head out, fixing Kite with sleepy but sharp eyes that gleamed red before settling into dark brown, a trick of the light. The coachman’s family, one could assume.

“Excuse me-“ Kite said, shifting to avoid his overly long legs from colliding with the man sitting across him, big-statured and grizzled, one hand resting on a beautifully made crossbow with the certainty of a battle-worn fighter. Two others sat huddled in the far corner, heads close in a hushed conversation while their eyes occasionally flashed towards Kite and the other applicant. One sneered after looking him up and down, turning to her companion and nudging him in the side. Knowing their gaze to be still roaming over him, Kite allowed his head to hang back with his eyes closed, feigning the slow rise and fall of his chest in mimicry of sleep, all while sharpening his senses to the surroundings. The kid babbled and nagged to his mother, the fighter across him sighed and stretched his legs out, hand tapping on his weapon and the other two applicants fell silent after muffled gigglings.

With the horses whinnying upfront, the carriage began moving, swaying the caravan gently over the uneven road. Kite’s head rolled to the side, an uncomfortable stretch running up the side of his neck and missing last night’s sleep coming back to weigh down his eyelids. In a situation as unpredictable as this, he couldn’t risk unconsciousness, however lightly he slept. The other applicants wouldn’t hesitate to take out the competition, and the coachman and his family…if not the navigators, they must have been serving as a sort of an obstacle. Perhaps to delay gullible applicants? But then again, they seemed to be going the right way-

A harsh tug on the shorter strands of hair escaping his ponytail, and Kite’s eyes shot open to see the kid holding his hair up in the light, mouth open in awe.

“Your hair’s pretty.” His shoulders, having drawn up, relaxed as the kid’s mother attempted to free Kite’s hair from the kid’s grip, resulting in more hair pulling as the boy refused to let go.

“Natha! That’s not polite!” She shot Kite an apologetic look and he shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“It’s quite alright.” The lie slipped through his teeth without him noticing or being able to stop it, a kneejerk reaction to the kid’s glittering eyes. He could suppress his seething hatred of having his hair touched just this once, even if the kid seemed more interested in how hard he could pull at his roots before they gave in.

The flurry of questions following ranged from “how long did it take for your hair to grow so long?” to “Don’t you have any pretty marbles? No? I have a lot! Here-“   and left Kite with a curious ache in his chest, weighted down with the clear blue marble on his palm and what he could never possess, possibilities robbed from him long, long ago when his family died, or abandoned him, or however he came to be alone and nameless with nowhere to call home.

“How did you get ouchie?” He pointed to Kite’s face, and his hand came up to scratch at the bandaid covering the still-healing scratches on his chin and cheek after pocketing the marble. Having focused on getting his leg back in top condition, he had neglected his more superficial wounds. Still, bruises had faded to yellow, and cuts had long since scabbed over.

“Training.” At the kid’s blank stare, he continued. “I was sparring with my teacher to practice for the hunter exam, and I got…ouchie?”

Another black stare, and Kite could sense sweat breaking out over his body. “What’s sparring?”

He sighed, and decided on the only logical course of action: Explaining the intricacies of sparring and the importance of practiced combat to the kid.

Natha eventually grew bored and ran across the caravan to the duo huddled in the corner, appearing to be showing them a handmade doll of sorts and speaking a mile a minute, offering to make them one as well.

“Sweet kid.” The fighter gestured to Natha with his head before turning to the mother, smiling. “Reminds me of my own rascal. Never sit still, do they?”

Before she could reply, the coachman shouted over the horses panicking. A loud roar thundered from the side of the caravan, the collision almost throwing Kite out of his seat. A second hit and the caravan tipped over to the side, insistent scratching noises drowning out the screaming and yelps of the occupants. The fighter tripped and landed on Kite, knocking the breath out of him.

As he struggled to free himself from under the dead weight of the man, the canvas wall of the caravan ripped open, and an animalistic hand covered in dark fur reached in, grasping at air and vicious claws gleaming when they closed around Natha’s collar. The creature cackled, high and ear grating, and pulled the kid away.

“Mama!” He screamed, reaching out to his mother. She just came short of grabbing his arm, and let out a pained wail when the creature pulled him away and vanished from the sight, another round of cackling accompanied by the sounds of flapping wings.

“Catch me if you can!” It called back, and Kite’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. How-?

“Please! Get him back! Please-“ The mother’s voice broke with the damn of tears streaming down her face, and she turned to face Kite, wide eyes glittering in the twilight, an unfathomable pain in their depths Kite would never be able to understand, but could feel in that moment.

Not wasting another moment, Kite followed suit, bursting through the tear in the caravan and following the creature’s dark shape getting smaller and smaller against the sky. He swore under his breath and came to a stop when he realized he couldn’t reach it, not on the ground like this. With No.4, he could shoot it down, but only if he got lucky, and that seemed to be rare these days. The kid’s cries grew fainter as his parents grew louder, making their frantic way after the creature.

“The- the hell was that?” One half of the duo staggered out behind Kite, nursing a cut on his forehead. The fighter exited the caravan with a huff, readying his crossbow and training it on the winged creature.

“Doesn’t matter what it is as long as I can shoot it.” The string pulled taut, the arrow ready to find roots in its mark.

“What is that-?” With the question echoing in his mind, Kite froze, eyes still glued to the creature. Long ears, dark fur, the ability to speak…

Before the arrow could leave the pocket, Kite’s arm came down and knocked the crossbow out of the fighter’s grip in a panicked flail.

“That’s a Kiriko!” He gasped, gesturing at the creature. Uninterested in what he had to say, the fighter grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close enough for their noses to touch.

“What is your problem?” He yelled, the sound falling heavy and deafening on Kite’s ears. “Do I look like I care-“

“You don’t get it!” Shouting back, Kite freed himself and ran towards the horses, climbing atop one and only distantly realizing he had absolutely no idea how to ride a horse. “Kiriko are herbivores! They won’t harm humans, unless-“

Leaving the other applicants in a cloud of dust, Kite chased after the Kiriko, holding on to the reins for his dear life and hoping horses to be as smart as everybody said they were. Noticing the chase, the Kiriko let out a noise, something between a hiss and a growl, and changed direction, trying to lose Kite by weaving through trees and rocky hills.

What else did he know about Kiriko? That they were one of the most intelligent magical beasts with shapeshifting abilities, unknown origins, and lived in very tight-knit communities with their family, far out of the reach of humans. Which meant-

The kid’s crying sounded a lot more like laughing .

“This is all a part of the damned exam, isn’t it?” He said to the horse, patting its head and a chuckle bubbling up in his chest. At this rate, even the horse could be in on a convoluted plot. No one was to be trusted. He let out a burst of easy laughter, the tensed muscles of his shoulders and back letting away to the comfort of the warm breeze threatening to push his hat off his head.

Instead of staying on the Kiriko’s tail, Kite directed the horse up a hill, still keeping an eye on the winged creature and the perfect moment, waiting to be positioned right on top of it and then-

His stomach dropped alongside him from the top of the hill, coat flaring out behind him in the image of two dark wings, and for a second it seemed as if he would be meeting the hard ground instead of his target, but with a timely gust of wind Kite landed on the Kiriko’s back, gripping onto the thick fur of its shoulders as they all plummeted towards the ground.

The Kiriko Let go of Natha a couple of feet from the ground, allowing him to roll to a stop safe and giggling in a patch of long grass, and twisted to get Kite off its back, claws reaching far too close to his face. He landed on his back with a dull thud and finally let go of the Kiriko, allowing the creature to jump back with its hackles raised. The growls, while intimidating on any other animal, only served to bring a smile to Kite’s face.

Dusting his coat and rising to his feet, he held his arm out. “You must be one of the navigators, and a very good actor I must admit!”

The creature blinked, and then snorted, dark fur melting into russet skin and leaving a scowling young man.

“The name’s Shira, and yep, I’m a navigator I guess.” He said, hands crossed over his chest. “No thanks to you for ruining our fun. I didn’t wait the whole year for you to come here and figure it all out after 5 minutes.”

Kite shrugged, amused. “If it’s any consolation, you almost had me fooled with the whole evil child-snatching creature gimmick.” He watched as Natha pushed past him and into his brother’s embrace, demanding to be flown again. “And you would’ve gotten shot, too, if I had stayed fooled.”

“Ma and Pa wouldn’t let that happen. Thank you, though.” The Kiriko’s red eyes flicked up to his, betraying the carefree set of his features, and then a smile broke on his lips, bringing his arm up in a wave. “Speak of the devil. Hey! This guy figured it out!”

Two other Kiriko, much taller than the young man, landed between them, one donning a colourful shawl and the other a very familiar straw hat. Without changing back to human form, the coachman grinned with a mouthful of sharp teeth and held his clawed hand out.

“I knew you were a sharp fella!” He gave Kite an overenthusiastic handshake, almost dislocating his shoulder with a heavy pat afterwards. “Not only did you recognize our species, but knew enough information to come up with the correct course of action in a short amount of time, and resolved a stressful situation. Unlike the other applicants, you neither resorted to violence nor resigned to inaction.”

The other Kiriko grinned, cradling her younger son. “You have passed the last examination before the hunter exam. We will now give you directions to the hunter exam site. The directions you received were a ruse. Your real destination is Nakomea, near the northeast. It’ll be two days on foot, so be mindful of how much time you have left before the exam starts.”

“Actually, how about I do you one better-“ Their older son piped up, face contorting and elongating into his natural appearance, back hunching as large wings sprouted out once again to flap and leap towards Kite, grabbing him by the shoulders. “-if you aren’t afraid of heights, that is.”

He raised a brow, side-eyeing the claws resting on his coat and hoping to have masked being startled. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Without any further prompting,  Shira’s claws clamped down on his shoulders harder and his feet left the ground, a rush of wind howling in his ears as they began ascending. Kite yelped, grabbing the claws holding onto his coat, every flap of wings rocking him back and forth.

“Thought you said you weren’t afraid of heights?” The Kiriko laughed, gliding without any effort having ascended high enough and catching a strong Windstream. “Don’t tell me I gotta land now, man. I can get you to the exam site by morning like this.”

“I’m not! But a warning would’ve been nice, you know!” Kite yelled up, blinking against the burning orange light of the setting sun now catching him in the eyes. The once-massive hills now rolled all the way into the distance, no bigger than anthills under his boots and growing ever so smaller. Twisting his neck around, he caught a glimpse of the family, all three waving with enthusiasm. Letting go of Shira’s ankle, he returned the wave, not tearing his eyes away until they shrank into small, dark dots, blending into the ground below. Turning his gaze to the Kiriko, he found him grinning and looking up to the sky with hungry eyes, devouring the kaleidoscope of colours exploding from the horizon. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this.”

Shira swung him by the shoulders and out of the way of a flock of birds, remaining silent. When Kite had thought the other hadn’t heard him, he spoke again, voice a weak murmur in the wind.

“It definitely isn’t in my job description to give you a lift, but I guess I just like humans like you.” Soaring over the glittering blue expanse of a vast lake, the wind grew crisp and fresh, brittle as Shira’s chuckle. “Most of your lot really don’t take kindly to creatures that look like them, talk like them, but live differently. If they don’t understand something, they want it gone. You catch my drift?”

The surface of the lake broke into a thousand shining mirrors, stealing the oranges and pinks of the sky and carrying them to the depths. Kite held his hand out, the colourless pallor cutting against the lively landscape.

“I guess you could say I know what it’s like to be an outcast.” He said, memories heavy in his throat and building up like boulders in his chest. Sensing Shira’s sharp gaze, he looked up, flashing a wan smile. “And after all, it would be boring if we understood everything in the world, wouldn’t it?”

Another sharp-toothed grin. “See? You’re the good sort. Now, cheer up, I’m getting sad by just how gloomy you are!”

Kite’s heart dropped when Shira drew his wings back and dove towards the lake with a loud whoop, and for a split second he was certain the Kiriko would drop him in the water, so he braced himself for meeting the chilled darkness of the depths, where the light could not reach.

Shira drew up before dropping in the lake, just so that Kite’s boots hovered shy of meeting the lake, and for a moment he could pretend he ran across the rippling surface of the lake. Wind reflected off the surface in cool sprays of water, droplets landing on his eyelashes and dampening his hair.

The laughter escaping him reverberated as boundless as the horizon, wild in its freedom and lack of restraint, and the unbroken rippling mirror beneath his feet glimmered with the scene turned on its head, an empty blue world where his smile painted true and alive.

***

Meeting solid ground after a night of being flown left Kite stumbling when Shira let go of his shoulders, pins and needles running up his numb legs. Catching himself on a streetlamp, his eyes roamed the empty street, pale gray under the pre-dawn of twilight and bright yellow streetlamps.

Shira, having transformed into his human form once again, whistled to himself and beckoned him forwards, making his way down the row of locked-up shops. “We got here earlier than I thought. Welcome to Nakomea. It’s normally a heck of a lot louder than this.”

Turning his neck from side to side, he grimaced as the tight muscles gave a painful pull, following Shira and eying the dark shop windows. “Hard to believe hundreds of applicants can fit in one of these shops, let alone this whole street.”

“Oh, the exam site isn’t here.” He grinned over his shoulder before squinting at the dim signs above the shops, retrieving a piece of paper from his pocket. “It’s close though. We were given part of the directions. You know how the Association works, with all their secrets and stuff. Definitely sketchy, right?”

Draining the last of his water, Kite dropped his flask into the small bag strapped to his thigh, making a mental note of replenishing his supply of dreaded protein bars as well. “I wouldn’t know. Not a hunter yet, remember?”

Shira took a turn into an alley, not looking up to see the dead-end sign, and Kite stood by the entrance with a raised brow as the Kiriko walked to the end and turned back, bashful. His short laugh bounced against the walls.

“Wrong turn- My Pa says hunters are good folk, except those ones that catch magical beasts and stuff them to sell to rich people. But he doesn’t trust the Association one bit.” He pushed past Kite and made his way towards the town square. A handful of shadows roamed under the streetlamps, early risers or night dwellers, illuminated by the sparse light streaming out from the shops now opening for the day one by one.

“Don’t you work for the Association, as navigators?”

“Nope. We have a contract with the hunter exam committee only.” Shira came to an abrupt stop, sending Kite tripping to avoid a collision. With a victorious smile, he stood in front of a still-closed shop, pointing at it with his thumb.

“This is the place!”

Resting his forehead against the dark display, Kite found rows upon rows of cluttered bookshelves and knickknacks. “A bookshop?”

Shira joined him, breath fogging against the glass. “Yep.” He pointed to a bookshelf in the far left corner, filled to the brim with large, hardcover books. “See those right there? When the shop opens, go in there and take the third book from the left on the top shelf, an encyclopedia. Somewhere in the letter G, there should be a map to the exam site.”

“How unnecessarily convoluted.” Kite said, pushing away from the display and readjusting his gloves. “Corner bookshelf, top shelf, third encyclopedia from the left, map in letter G. I think I got it.”

Beaming, Shira held his arm out, smile earnest and bright. “Gotta make my way back to the family. Sorry if I gave you a spook with the lake. I’m used to flying Natha around and that kid loves it when I do that.”

Kite met him with a firm handshake, bowing his head slightly. “You didn’t. And thank you again for flying me over here. It was very kind of you.”

“Hey, stop thanking me man, maybe I just wanted to stretch my wings out a bit.” Walking backwards and unaware of a pedestrian behind him, Shira gave him two finger guns. “Good luck with the exam! And if you fail, come straight to me next year and I’ll get you to the site, no more games and stuff.”

Pushing the acrid taste of doubt down, Kite gave him a two-fingered salute, ignoring the faint trembling of his hand. “How about instead I drop by for a visit when I get my license this year ?”

“Waiting for you then!” Shira yelled back, giving one last wave before disappearing down the street. Not long after, a dark, winged shape took off against the pale sky, letting out a familiar, high-pitched cackle as the sun crawled out of hiding.

***

“This is ridiculous.” Kite glared down at the unhelpful map as if it were at fault for him having to travel all the way through the city only to reach a dead end in the form of an overgrown, steaphead valley walled between two towering rock faces. According to the map and the mocking, bright X marking the spot, he should have reached the exam site.

Making his way through the lush greenery, he reached for his katana to cut down a curtain of poison ivy and trekked to the west still. Located not far from the ocean, the wind brought the salty scent of the sea, trapping it in the depth of the valley like a fading memory.

Finding no sign of other applicants hanging around, Kite pulled the map out once again, holding it in every which direction and then up to the sky, scanning for any hidden messages illuminating the way.

No such luck.

“Ahem, Hello-“

Kite turned on his heels faster than his mind could catch up, swinging the katana at the source of the voice on instinct. Whoever he had anticipated facing, he could not have expected to see a short, round green man instead, holding up a clipboard to deflect Kite’s attack. Unflinching, he offered a round badge displaying the number 33 , smiling up and unaffected.

“-Here's your number badge. Please make sure to wear it on your chest at all times and take great care to not lose it.” He continued as if not interrupted, and Kite took great efforts to not have his jaw hanging open as he pinned the badge on his coat lapel. “The other applicants are waiting some ways further. You’re free to join them until the rest arrive. The start of the exam will be announced by your proctor. Good luck, Kite-san!”

Fixing his already immaculate suit, the green man turned and walked away with a bounce in his step, leaving Kite to wonder who or what he had encountered, and how he knew his name.

Just as the man had said, other applicants were scattered further in the valley, all keeping their distance from each other while keenly observing anyone who moved. Dozens of pairs of eyes followed Kite as he made his way through with his weapon still bared, pressure heavy like a kettle coming to boil. The air brimmed with the tension between the applicants, each after the same prize, each a hunter craving prey.

Kite sheathed his katana and folded down to the ground, pretending to occupy himself with his bootlaces while casting a look around with Gyo, blinking in surprise when out of all faint and uncontrolled auras, one stood out in deep maroon rays, slithering off a young blond man playing on his phone and oblivious to his surroundings.

Heeding his mentor’s advice, Kite opted to stay away from other Nen users, but not to hide his own aura, instead allowing it to flow as a warning, a danger sign hoping to ward others off.

I am strong too. Don’t challenge me.

Leaning back against the chilled, stony wall of the valley, Kite pulled his hat over his eyes, willing his rigid body to relax into some much-needed rest. Even without En, no movements went unnoticed by his razor-sharp senses, catching all rustling and even change in breathing.

It kept him on edge even when he fell into a shallow sleep, too curt for a twisted dream, but enough for him to snap awake when heavy footsteps approached his side, coming to a stop much closer than comfort.

“Hey there, it’s your first time taking the exam, right?”

Flicking his hat up, Kite regarded the stout man smiling down at him, holding a soda can in each hand with his number badge reading 58 . Gyo revealed him to not be a Nen-user, yet his aura flow seemed stronger than it should have been. That, plus something about his overly innocuous demeanor set Kite’s teeth on edge, like a venomous creature feigning harmlessness with intentions of a fatal strike.

Shuffling under his unblinking gaze, the man let out an awkward chuckle. “My name's Tonpa. Out of everyone here I probably have the most experience taking this exam, so I could help you out if you want.”

Kite swallowed down a bitter snicker. “In taking the exam, but not passing it, I presume.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m declining.”

“Oh hey now, no need to be mean!” Tonpa said, an edge of anger bleeding into his otherwise friendly voice. “No hard feelings though, I know you’re probably worried about the exam. All rookies are. How about some soda to relax?”

Frowning, Kite pinched the bridge of his nose. Since when was soda known for being relaxing? “No, thank you.” He spat out with his last remainder of politeness. No one offered anything without wanting something in return, and Tonpa wouldn’t be exempt from this rule. However, he found himself unable to pinpoint an exact agenda. Gain his trust and betray him further down the line? Use him as a partner to get himself at least to the final phase? All seemed plausible enough.

“Some water then? You seem pretty tired-“

Despite making an effort to carry himself in the most unthreatening manner as possible, Kite took a twisted joy upon towering over the man and seeing his expression shift from faux hospitality to hostility. He squared his shoulders, leaning down over Tonpa.

“I don’t know what your agenda is, or if you take me for an idiot, but I advise you to keep away from me.” With a flick of the hand, he knocked one of the sodas out of Tonpa’s hand and sent him scrambling back. “I’m here to pass the exam, not to fool around. Get in my way and you’ll regret it.”

“Alright alright! Damn crazy rookie-“ Grumbling under his breath and sneaking worried glances at Kite, Tonpa jogged away, half-tripping over some overgrown tree roots before disappearing out of view.

He had barely let out a sigh of relief when an upsettingly familiar voice spoke from behind him. “So we meet again.”

Kite pinched the bridge of his nose harder in hopes of dispersing the headache building up at his temples and turned. Twin axes jutted out over the man's shoulders, a grin that was nerve-grating by just existing, and a rather forgettable face he could hardly place.

“You chickened out of the exam last year, didn’t you?” Rohan said, standing with his chest puffed out. How pathetic that this man had kept a stupid grudge for a whole year, Kite thought, and sneered in return.

“And it seems you failed, again.” Crossing his arms over his chest, glee soared through his heart at seeing Rohan’s face falling. “I would give up if I were you. It’s getting embarrassing, really.”

Lips twisted in fury, Rohan jabbed a finger at Kite’s chest, spit flying with every word. “You better watch your back, smartass. I’m not letting these slide.”

Laughing to himself at the familiarity of having an insecure man bullying someone they deemed than themselves, Kite shook his head. Long gone were the days when he would allow himself to be walked all over, and now? Likes of Rohan stood as nothing but harmless annoyances, a particularly insistent fly refusing to buzz off.

“Alright, if you’re done making your idle threats to make yourself feel better, get going now.”

He tuned out everything else coming out of Rohan’s mouth, simply leaning back with his hands hooked behind his head and snickering internally. In the end, what got the man off his back was him baring his katana to wipe the already gleaming blade, a not-so-subtle threat of his own.

Over the next few hours, more and more applicants filed in, a simple headcount revealing far more than a hundred in sight. Every once in a while, Kite scanned the crowd with Gyo, searching for particularly strong auras, but none had raised alarms yet. A selfish, almost malicious shadow reared its ugly head through the depths of his mind, urging him to do exactly what he had proposed in the car a week ago, to forgo doing the right thing and seize this chance by the throat, finish off the competition right here and now and leaving no possibility of failure, nothing but pure, undiluted victory. A weapon called for his twitching fingers, to wield and land the first strike. 

But would that be any different than stealing away everybody else’s chance at a similar victory? Not fair, not at all.

Rifling through his bag, Kite pulled out a protein bar and regarded it without much appetite, wishing he had opted for some fresh bread instead, but having limited space to carry and seeking non-perishables left him with little choice but these dreaded things.

As soon as he tore the wrapper open, a green-yellow blur catapulted him right in the face, knocking his hat askew.

“Candy?” A Shrill voice called, and after a few moments of looking around, Kite realized it had come from the parrot that had just hit him in the face. It sat perched on his knee, cocking its head to the side. “Give candy to Zita?”

“Ah, you mean this?” Kite raised the protein bar and the parrot –Zita- squawked. “It’s not candy, but you can have some.”

He ruffled the bird’s soft feathers as it pecked at the offered crumbs, casting a look around at the applicants still growing in numbers, some standing in small groups but most keeping their distance with their backs to the wall and surveying everyone with suspicion.

A whistle and Zita perked up, turning its head towards the noise. “Zita loves big girl!” With a smack of wings across his face, which Kite decided to take as a thank you, it tore away and landed farther away on a woman’s outstretched arm. A blink, and the strings of bright green Nen between the woman and the parrot became visible. A Manipulator, likely quite experienced, with the parrot as her familiar.

“That makes two, so far.” Kite whispered to himself, grateful to have gone unnoticed by the two Nen-users for the time being. If, as Ging had said, he managed to fly under the radar until the very end-

A prickling sensation crawling up the back of his neck tipped him off as to being watched, and upon turning his head, he locked eyes with a black-haired young man across the valley, body lit up with a gleaming amber aura. His eyes too shone amber behind his glasses before being hidden by a flash of light reflecting off the lenses. With his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his red letterman jacket, he tilted his head to the side, no doubt studying Kite’s aura, and the possibility left him feeling more vulnerable than he had ever felt while encountering other Nen-users, causing the kneejerk reaction of wanting to hide with Zetsu. The man’s aura flow, while not particularly strong, seemed controlled and calculated, signaling experience in the basic principles and combat.

Out of all other Nen-users, he found himself least enthusiastic about crossing paths with this particular applicant. His instincts screamed trouble, if not outright danger, and he had learned to trust them. He would stay away from this one.

Heartrate picking up, Kite looked away, hand coming up to pull his hat lower when yet another powerful aura cut across his vision, vivid purple curling around a woman standing in the middle of the valley clad in workout gear, large dark eyes focused and determined. She raised a small bell over her head and rang it, the noise reverberating in the valley much louder than it should have been, the crystalline and delicate sound ringing directly in his ears.

The murmuring of the applicants died down, and hundreds of eyes turned to her. Throwing her hair over one shoulder, she spoke, voice similarly loud and clear.

“Everybody who made it here, welcome to the hunter exam. No more applicants will be accepted from this moment on.” A pause, and she took a second to look over those closest to her, examining each with a raised brow. “My name is Gel, and I’ll be your first proctor.”

Chapter Text

In the following heavy blanket of silence, a pin drop would ring out like thunder in the dark of night, an entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation at once.

Gel took a few steps forwards, head held high and gaze sharp as a knife’s edge.

“I’ve been instructed by the exam committee to warn you all of the risks ahead of you. By no means will this exam be easy, and if you do not possess the necessary skills and qualities, you will end up injured or worse.” Like a dam breaking, muffled whispers flowed between the applicants, and Kite bit the inside of his cheeks. “If you’re not 100% dedicated, I advise you to turn away now.”

Murmurings and tension rising in volume, everybody began casting looks around, almost daring each other to take the proctor’s advice and walk away. Standing rigid and still, rooted to the spot, Kite eyed the other Nen-users, all equally shrouded in conviction, and then the few applicants shuffling around and swaying on the spot, but none moved to leave. Of course, no one who had made it this far would turn away now.

Awaiting for another breath or two, Gel gave a faint smile, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail before turning to the northern wall of the valley.

“Very well then, we’ll start with all 742 of you.” She began climbing the nigh-vertical rock face without any difficulty, clearing about 10 meters in a matter of seconds with her limbs seeming to reach and contort into unnatural shapes. Nen-? “For the first phase, you only have to make it to the second phase! Easy as anything!”

With incredible speed, she continued climbing up towards the top of the valley, leaving the applicants in awed silence before they broke out in a wave of panic.

“That’s about 600 meters! No way she can make it up there like that!” One shouted, similar complaints following one by one, fuel to the fire as half of the crowd began preparing to climb after Gel and the other half stood paralyzed by indecisiveness. He could hear Tonpa’s voice trying to con some poor rookies into not partaking in the test at all, assuring them that no one could make it up there.

Moving to follow their proctor, Kite adjusted his gloves and ran his hand over the damp, cool stone. Finding handholds alongside the jagged surface would be easy enough, but the smooth and wet planes provided a rather precarious challenge to pass.

Gel had almost disappeared from view, nothing but a purple and black shape halfway up to the top, soon to reach it.

“Well, no point in delaying the inevitable.”

With a sigh, he pulled himself up, tapping his boot in order to find a foothold and then reaching for the next protruding stone, and repeat. He had climbed about five times his own height before coming to a green patch, hand slipping off moss-covered stone and almost dropping him all the way to the valley below.

“That’s just my damned luck.” With sweat already building over his brow and muscles aching, Kite huffed under his breath and felt around the surface over his head, searching for the least slippery handhold he could find.

The howling yell ringing out bounced all the way up the valley even if the source continued falling, desperate hands outstretched and clawing at the air. The applicant fell silent after a muffled crash, and clutching to the stones, Kite could only hope they had survived. They must have, they must-

Midday sun in his eyes and catching the white lashes with a glimmer, He continued climbing, one step after the other, no thought spared for anything but the next handhold, the next obstacle. The higher he reached, the screams of those losing their grips pierced his ears harder, a prolonged reminder of the price of a misstep, of the wrong move. You might be next.

When the eleventh applicant fell, a high-pitched scream who sounded far too young, Kite rested his forehead against the cool, jagged stones, chest heaving and never drawing enough air in, drowning in the absurdity of it all, of risking one’s life for a better one, the fragile, fickle thing that harbored so much suffering and yet, it was everything .

“Hey, if you just stay here like that you’ll get exhausted and be the next poor bastard who joins the rest down there!”

Kite’s head snapped up to see another applicant, a few meters higher and about an arm’s length away, number badge reading 108 . Head haloed in a ginger pixie cut, she clung to the wall of the valley with only one hand and no other equipment, the other resting on a hefty utility belt. She tutted, lips twitching into a grimace.

“Get a move on then!”

Kite finally snapped out of his paralyzed haze, once again losing himself in the repetitive motions of finding a handhold, climbing higher, one after the other. With each movement, the urge to forgo his resolve to not use Nen grew more and more tempting.

“I hate rock climbing with my entire being.” Pulling himself higher, he reached eye level with the other applicant. “I would take anything over this.”

She snickered, freckled nose crinkling. “Should’ve been here the year before last then. Had to swim across the Narlet gulf for the first phase. I almost gave up right there.”

“I would’ve fared much better with swimming.”

“Thought so. You look like you’d be a good swimmer.” Turning back to the rock face and climbing with an enviable, practiced ease, she surpassed Kite in the blink of an eye. Not that he hadn’t had enough practice himself; Ging’s insistence upon chasing unattainable and unreachable goals sometimes became quite literal, and there had been a fair share of climbing to do, But Kite’s gangly limbs never seemed entirely suitable for it. As the girl had pointed out, he would have a much easier time swimming.

“Hey, you don’t happen to be the rookie that spooked Tonpa?” She called down, once again letting go to dangle haphazardly, facing down. “Damn, most people fall for his friendly old-timer schtick, even I almost did last time. But I heard him ranting and raving about this crazy rookie with a hat that scared the absolute shit outta him and I couldn’t stop laughing. Nice hat by the way!”

Raising a brow, Kite touched his free hand to his usual blue hat. “I may have been harsher than needed.”

“Pfft, he deserved it.” Her lips curled up to a lopsided smile. “Not really up for conversation, huh?”

“Not when all that’s standing between me and two dozen broken bones is a little mistake.” Kite huffed, blinking sweat out of his eye and struggling to find a foothold, the tip of his hiking boots tapping against the stones.

Whistling, she looked down, and then back at Kite. “No way man. We’re halfway up. This fall’d kill you.”

Baring his teeth at her in what was supposed to have been a smile, Kite clutched a sharp stone much harder than needed. “Thank you for the most helpful i-“

The stone breaking apart under his grip froze the blood in his veins, breath catching as his foot lost hold as well and gravity’s pull transformed from a natural force to a vindictive, avaricious beast calling him back, all want and cruel indifference.

He could survive this- No, needed to, had to-

Skin breaking against rough stone, Kite found temporary hold, letting out a grunt when the momentum of the fall suddenly cut short pulled on his arms. He hung by his fingertips, scrambling to find footing once more.

“Hang in there!” The applicant’s voice barely reached him through the rush of blood in his ears. Looking up, he was surprised to see her climbing down. In quick succession, she produced an ice axe and a length of rope from her belt. With the ice axe stuck anchoring her, she dropped down one end of the rope, attaching the other end to her belt.

Without needing further prompting, Kite clutched the rope and finally found secure footing, climbing up with a more tentative speed, broken fingernails catching and aching.

“Pfft, that was close!” She said, gathering the rope around her waist as Kite attempted to catch his breath, testing each rock before pulling himself up and blinking past the black spots in his vision.

“Why did you help me?” snarling without meaning to, he turned to the applicant, hands shaking. “We’re rivals, competition, you should-“

“Have let you go splat ?” She replied, genuinely indignant if it weren’t for the mischievous gleam in her pale eyes. “Come on, you seem like a pretty nice guy…or gal.” Squinting at Kite, she paused, seeming unsure. “…Pal?”

He let out a short burst of laughter, elated at still retaining some ambiguity in his appearance and self-presentation. “Guy, but honestly, I’m fine either way.” Blowing his hair out of his face, he turned to face the other applicant, forcing his featured to soften. “Thank you for helping me.”

She grinned then, a mirthless thing, sharp and full of teeth. “As I said, you’re a pretty nice guygalpal, so you owe me one now.”

“Ah.” No one ever offered anything without wanting something in return. Of course. “So you didn’t do that out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Nope.” She popped the P , and held her arm out. “I’m Asta, and no one around here does anything because they’re kind. You have a much higher chance of making it if you learn that early on.”

Kite looked between her hand and his, clutching at the stones to prevent yet another mishap. “Kite, and mind if I leave proper introductions for when we reach the top?”

Another scream, another applicant plunging down towards the patch of green that seemed worlds away. Asta’s smile fell with it, brows furrowing.

“ If we make it up there, sure.”

How encouraging , Kite thought with an eyeroll severe enough to catch a glimpse of his own brain but rather was unable to dismiss the grim possibility of failure. The first phase appeared to have been designed in order to weed out a great number of applicants, and those who were stubborn enough to persevere even when aware of their own strength, or lack thereof-

How many bodies laid at the bottom of the valley? Nameless souls chasing after a dream, only to end up rotting amongst the selfish hold of ivy.

And so he looked up, the sun burning colourful imprints behind his eyelids, reds and blues mixing into an inexplicable whirlwind of stars, all pointing to his goal, now closer than he could have ever imagined.

And he continued climbing higher, each strained pull one step away from the life he had so struggled to leave behind.

***

“Just a couple more feet and you’re done!” Asta, cupping her hands around her mouth, shouted down from the edge of the valley, her silhouette blocking out the sun. “Come on dude, don’t fail on me now!”

With her insistent- and quite a bit annoying- cheering, Kite pulled himself up the last of the long, long climb, the security of the ground beneath his feet a long forgotten memory as he stumbled away from the edge, risking a peek at the drop stretching in impossible proportions.

“Can’t believe we climbed all that. Damn!” Asta whistled, coming to stand by his side while he stretched his tired arms overhead, wincing as his shoulders popped with the movement.

“I definitely can.” Sensing the other staring at him, he rolled his shoulders back and looked down, brows knitting under the brim of his hat. “What.”

One brow raised in amusement, Asta shook her head, giving a chortle. “Nothing. Just noticed now that you’re freaky tall, that’s all.”

Kite sighed, rummaging through his small bag. “Believe me, I know it without everyone constantly reminding me.”

“It’s off-putting, man! Spent the last two hours or something at your level and boom you’re suddenly-“

Fingertips skinned red and raw, Kite again winced as he pulled his gloves off with his teeth, wishing he had not opted for fingerless ones for the sake of his sore hands. Haphazardly disinfecting the scrapes, he occasionally responded with “aha” and “yep” in the beats of silence in the one sided conversation with Asta.

“Now let’s see-“ Counting under her breath, Asta squinted at the other applicants scattered around, numbers having dwindled greatly after only the first phase. If Kite had to make a guess, he would put them at one third of the initial applicants, both a relief and a point of concern. How much more difficult would the tasks ahead be?

Splashing some water on his face after washing his hands, Kite’s breath finally came even and untroubled, a semblance of assurance sparking in his chest. So far, so good. Even without falling back on Nen, he had been able to hold his ground, albeit with some help. He looked down at Asta, her hand on her ice axe. Perhaps forming alliances wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

“When will we move on to the second phase?” Kite peeked over the edge again, spotting more than a few applicants still struggling to make their way up. “Will the proctor wait until everyone’s climbed up?”

Asta clicked her tongue, eyes searching for the proctor standing tall and still amidst the crowd. “Don’t think so. The year I failed, the proctors called it whenever they felt like it. I guess it depends on how long until she gets bored.”

“There must be some, uh, guidelines in place-“

“Nope.” The axe’s blade caught the rays of sun as it spun mid-air, again and again after leaving Asta’s grasp and being caught with practised swiftness. “Been through this rigmarole once, and this is more like a fun weekend for the pro hunters to gather around and watch some dummies jump through hoops than an actual exam and test of skill.”

Grown sombre at the actual truth behind her bitter statement, familiar as in he had heard the same words, albeit more pained and streaked with pent up rage, Kite had flimsy grounds for a counter argument other than he himself had put all his chips on this exam alone, his worth as a hunter, his future as anything but a dead thief, and to reduce it all to mindless entertainment of a select few would also bring down his efforts to nothing.

Over her shoulder, ways away, a young man clad in a red letterman jacket climbed over the edge, managing only a few clumsy steps before staggering to the ground in a boneless heap. At a small gasp escaping Kite, Asta turned to the applicant’s crumpled form, tutting.

“Did that guy just faint?”

“I suppose so.” Kite muttered, eying the Nen user from earlier with Gyo. His aura, albeit fainter and not even half as controlled as before, still blazed bright around his unmoving body. His legs moved on their own accord, bringing him closer to one his potential rivals, driven out of morbid curiosity or thoughtless charity, neither a smart move.

“Hey, guy on the ground? You okay? Is there a medic I can call or-?” Asta called from behind him as he closed the distance between himself and the unconscious Nen-user, face covered by a mess of black hair and crooked number badge on his jacket reading 263 , pinned beside a golden heart printed over the red fabric.

Kneeling by his side, Kite gave him a tentative shake by the shoulder, ready to pull back at any sudden movement. Receiving no reaction, he pressed his fingers over the other’s neck, counting each beat of his pulse, weak but rapid, his skin cool and clammy under Kite’s touch.

“He alright?” Casting a shadow over them both, Asta leaned down beside him, brows furrowed. She reached over and gave the unconscious applicant a harsh poke in the ribs. Much to Kite’s surprise, he stirred, his head rolling to the other side and letting out a faint noise.

“I think it’s just heat exhaustion.” Having shed his own rather heavy coat, he eyed the stranger’s jacket, and after a moment’s hesitation, pulled the garment off and folded it under the man’s head, leaving him in a rumpled, untucked shirt. “We need to cool him down quickly, but he’ll be fine.”

Retrieving his flask again, Kite brushed the dark locks of hair back with much more gentleness he thought himself capable, for a moment falling captive to the soft lines of the applicant’s face, where he had expected harsh lines and malicious twists, instead finding rosy cheeks flushed and lips parted. Even while unconscious, he could trace a history of tender sincerity around his features, a certain unburdened and fresh radiance so alien it could only seem superficial, a creature of prey clad in the skin of a sheep.

Pulling his hand back, Kite uncapped his flask and splashed a clumsy handful of water over the applicant's face. He spluttered, dark eyes snapping open to meet Kite’s. He snuffed the wistful, almost enamored thoughts away, pushing them deep down in the inaccessible corners of mind, hoping for them to lose brilliance when time settled with its cobwebs and suffocated any lingering memory of soft hair between his fingers.

Rivals . As it stood, they were rivals and fierce competition.

Eyelashes fluttering, his unfocused gaze still held onto Kite’s, hand coming up run through the strands of hair glued to his forehead. He smiled, as boundless and kind as one imagined it to be. “Hot-“

Kite splashed another handful of water over his face.

“Yes, it’s quite hot.” Shoving the flask in his hand, Kite sat back, scowling as the other struggled to sit up on his elbows, one hand on his chest and coughing. “You’re halfway to a heatstroke. Drink up before you pass out again.”

“I- what?” He blinked, eyes still glassy as they roamed over Kite and Asta. “Where- I was climbing-“

Grinning, Asta knelt down by his other side, clapping him on the shoulder and almost knocking the flask out of his trembling hands. “You’re in luck, guy! You cleared the first phase before eating dirt! Imagine if you pulled this while climbing that.”

His laughter came more as a shaky exhale in between long sips of water, flushed yet pale skin evening out into warm olive. Kite’s fingers twitched on his lap, fighting against reaching over and taking his pulse again, yet legs stood rooted in place when he tried to leave, to simply walk away as far as possible before falling into the trap of a trusting face.

Asta stood up, dusting her cargo pants. “I’m gonna go find a medic just in case. You two have fun! And try not to get in trouble.” She whisper-shouted, turning away before Kite could volunteer for the task instead, leaving him and the Nen-user behind.

The applicant set the now empty flask down, shoving his hands in his pockets with a frown and searching around. Kite straightened up, pulling away and casting a look around until his eyes fell on several trees, green leaves dancing in the breeze and casting shade against the harsh, high noon rays.

“Come on, better get out of the sun.” Nudging his leg with his boot harder than necessary, Kite held out his arm, beckoning the other to stand up. The applicant finally pulled out the item he sought from his canvas bag, cleaning the glasses with his shirt before setting the frame on his nose, and he finally looked up, eyes blazing the amber of his aura.

As his own aura rushed to his eyes, his hand met Kite’s in a slow whisper of a touch, unmarred palm fitting over his calloused one with the ease and familiarity of a crystalline stream, carving a place out through the hard earth to call its own. Kite’s fingers closed around his hand on instinct, and he pulled the other to his feet, top of his floppy black hair reaching up to Kite’s shoulders. Standing a mere few steps apart, the other kept on clasping his hand, aura thrumming beneath Kite’s touch, as steady as the beat of a drum, more alive than the wild thump thump thump of Kite’s heart against its fragile confines. Like the reverence of looking at the sun, except to find it sitting veiled behind a misty sheet of clouds, bearing the warmth and the light but none of the blinding, agonising flames searing into the eyes. Instead it pressed against his defences, finding the smallest of cracks and flowing in, forever leaving the small imprints of a touch not borne of cruelty, but of uncertain fingers intertwined with nothing to hide behind closed doors.

“Thank you.” He said, once again with that smile that came easy, that settled in his eyes and lit them up like the sky at dawn, velveteen darkness giving way to gentle golden rays, a soft, quiet immolation. “I’m Wing. And you-?”

“Kite.” He gasped out, like handing over a secret or relinquishing a weapon, standing vulnerable and empty-handed before a force possessing the power to burn him to fine ash, forgotten and lost in the whirlwind of the one before him.

His hand pulling back as if singed, Kite staggered back, stealing his gaze away from Wing. “You should rest in the shade before the second phase starts.” He gestured to the trees and turned his back on the other, robbing him of a chance to speak another word, to sweep him away with his too lively aura and sweet, sweet voice.

Tracing his palm where Wing’s had touched his, leaving invisible scorch marks under his skin, Kite wondered how his aura had felt to the other, whether it had been a fresh breath of air or bruised, broken glassware, all sharp edges and savage points ready to bring blood to the skin. He turned the short seconds stretched into infinite in his mind this way and that way, tasting what was and what could have been and what he could never, not in this lifetime, possess.

Nothing but a distraction , alliances and mindless conversations only lead to distractions, and he could not afford one wrong step. Not now.

***

The bell ringing once more, signalling the end of the first phase, jolted him upright from where he had huddled behind a befallen tree, cradling his heavy head in his hands.

All remaining applicants drew closer to Gel, following her as she let them further away from the valley’s edge to where the forest grew thicker, the green canopy casting a cool, welcoming shade. Kite held his head down, not running his gaze over the crowd for the fear of meeting the wrong eyes.

Focus .

“A greater number than expected passed the first phase. I was afraid the next phase would be too harsh-“ Turning on her heels, Gel came to a stop, facing the crowd with a dangerous grin. “-but I believe you, as aspiring hunters, have earned a proper challenge.”

Chapter Text

Once again, the applicants listened with bated breath, a select few letting out anxious buzzing at what a ‘proper challenge’ would entail.

Kite leaned against a tree near the back of the crowd, scowling at what seemed like the opening of a cave system not too far from Gel, most definitely not a coincidence but rather the possible, distasteful site of the second phase.

He ignored the growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

A rapid movement in his periphery drew Kite’s attention to a hand waving over the applicant’s heads, Asta jumping up and down trying to beckon him over to the other side of the crowd. At the sight of a head of black hair by her side, he pulled the brim of his hat lower on one side, keeping his gaze fixed on their proctor. He bit down on his lip hard enough that the familiar, heavy taste of copper bloomed against his tongue.

“Before becoming a hunter, I worked as a coroner, dedicating myself to solving the mystery of a life that ended in too subtle a way to be determined by a cursory examination. During that time, I became fascinated with one cause of death, often deceiving many of my colleagues, and even myself at one point. Something so prevalent in nature that we often overlook it, even if it can end us at any given moment.” With her hands thrown open, a wave of her Nen reverberated in the surrounding patch of forest, the wildlife reacting in accordance and drawing in closer. From the squirrels running along to the various bugs scuttling out of their hiding places, Kite watched the formerly quiet forest come alive with an awed smile. A few screams rang out when several snakes slithered over to the proctor, one wrapping around her offered hand and making itself comfortable around her shoulders. “Poisons are all around us, carried by the creatures nesting behind our bookshelves or in berries we’re tempted to eat. That’s what I do as a hunter. I hunt for poisons, but also for how to use them to our advantage.”

“Interesting.” Kite said under his breath, weaving through the crowd and kneeling beside one of the snakes, a common Thamnophis sirtalis with yellow stripes loud against the dark, black scales. The snake lifted its head onto Kite’s palm, sparking a small smile on his face. Tilting his head up, he found Gel’s large eyes on him, startling in their intensity as he shot back up to standing again, dusting his knees with a pinch of self-consciousness.

“If you wish to be a hunter, you must learn to take what harms you and turn it into a weapon of your own.” Her hand ran over the smooth head of the snake around her shoulders as emphasis, the reptile’s forked tongue shooting out in response and tasting the air. “For the second phase, you’ll be undertaking an elementary task of poison hunters. There-“ She turned, gesturing to the opening of the cave, and Kite’s heart lurched, like missing a step and falling through empty air. “-lives a rather special species of poison frogs named Corythomantis greeningi , whose poison is famous for causing a powerful nociceptive reaction, can also be used in synthesising painkillers. Mother nature is rather fond of ironies.”

Where Kite stood in attentive silence, the applicants began whispering amongst themselves, lazy words weighted down in boredom. A couple of ‘hurry up and get it over with’ s thrown around, and Gel’s brows knitted tightly, lips pinching into an unimpressed frown. She produced a clear glass vial from her pocket and held it up delicately between two fingers.

“For you to pass, you must each fill a vial with The Greeningi frog’s poison. They reside in this cave alongside many other creatures one should take care to avoid-“

The louder protestors stalked up towards her and each grabbed a vial before heading towards the cave, steps heavy with arrogance as they disappeared down one of the entrances. Gel, to her credit, stood stunned only for a single moment before regaining her composure, features now slanting in annoyance. Kite recoiled briefly from the tension buzzing in her aura.

“If you’re too brave to listen to my warnings, then go ahead. It’d be you being eaten by gargantuan spiders, not me.” She shrugged, turning away with a shooing motion of the hand. The snake’s gaze remained fixed on the applicants.

“Yo, what do you mean gargantuan spiders?” One of the applicants shouted, the rest halting in their tracks, looking between the proctor and the opening of the cave with barely concealed horror. A shiver ran down Kite’s spine, hair prickling on the back of his neck.

Gel looked over her shoulder, a small grin adorning her face when a blood curdling, pained scream rang out from where the applicants had disappeared down the cave opening, the gaping maw of earth frozen in the image of a neverending howl.

“Ah yes. As I was saying, the Greeningi frogs nest close to Xenoctenus gargantua , the aforementioned man eating spiders.” Throwing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, she settled onto a tree stump and pulled out a notebook. “If I were you, I’d be very, very careful to not get bitten by them. Go along now, you have five hours to complete this hunt.”

Taking a look at his fellow applicants, all wide eyes and drawn weapons yet as still as stone, it became pointedly clear that nobody wished to be the first to step into the dark opening of the cave. Kite twirled the vial between his fingers and made his way to the above-ground structure of the cave, circling the system and eying additional entrances. The poison extraction itself couldn’t be too difficult, not if he avoided contact with the frog. And spiders, however unpleasant and disgusting, could be dealt with if not avoided, only really needing to be mindful of attracting their attention and the paralytic venom. But what stopped him in his tracks was the suffocating air of the tunnels, the way the light stopped before penetrating the unnatural sheet of darkness stretching over each entrance, each a mocking monument of the place he had come to think of as his would-be-tomb, where he had learned the price of a stolen life and left a piece of himself behind, a buried sacrifice and carried the burning reminder of running on borrowed time.

The thin white line running over his throat burned with the sting of a sharp blade, fresh blood welling up and heavy in lungs, drowning in waters there was no swimming out of-

“Hey, Kite!” His neck gave a creak as his head snapped to the side to see Wing and Asta jogging in his direction. Letting out a groan, he pushed back from where he had stood frozen, staring at the darkness of the cave.

“Oi, didn’t you see me waving at you?” Upon reaching him, Asta’s boot connected with Kite’s shin in an explosion of throbbing pain that went unnoticed when Wing came to a stop behind her, eyes widened at Asta’s outburst. He gave Kite an apologetic smile over her shoulder, shrugging. His hair, having dried into its former fluffy mess, fell over his eyes and almost down to his shoulders, bouncing with the movement.

“I must have missed you.” Kite muttered, dusting his pants in an exaggerated show of disinterest, hoping to drive the two away with his own special blend of quiet snark and sharp-tongued, single-word answers.

Asta crossed her arms, lips twisting downwards. “I help your skinny arse from going splat back there and you go on and-”

“Uh, I forgot to give this back.” Gently shouldering past Asta and cutting her off, Wing held out Kite’s flask, eyes downcast in sheepish reservation. “Thank you, again.”

“I-“ Fingers brushing against Wing’s as he took the flask, Kite’s thoughts came to a screeching halt, leaving him stammering for a moment. He tipped his hat, sensing heat rising to his face. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

Wing ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even further and seemingly oblivious to the tufts of hair standing up in odd angles at the back of his head, and let out a small laugh. “Yeah. Don’t even know why that happened. I just had to embarrass myself, I guess.” He paused, biting down on his lip. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?”

“No, not that I recall.“ If anything, Kite had been the one privy to saying something eternally humiliating, all defences torn down while facing a non-hostile aura against all common sense and strict teachings. Then, not for the first time since setting off for the hunter exam, he thanked whatever divine force behind the careful cradle of the universe for his mentor not being present to witness him pathetically fumbling for words against someone possessing only half-maybe even less- of his strength.

Asta snickered behind her hand, trying and failing to contain a snorting laughter, eyes flicking from Kite to Wing. He regarded her with a raised brow and receiving no coherent answer turned to Wing, busy readjusting his glasses with a pretty blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Uh, we should probably get going.” Wing said, clearing his throat and pulling out a cellphone. Kite blinked in question, tongue wetting his chapped lips. Asta nodded, squaring her shoulders. “Ms. Gel said we have five hours to get the poison, right?”

Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the velveteen haze settling over his thoughts, Kite turned back to the cave entrance, the darkness hungry and wanting. Right. He couldn’t lose sight of his goal. From the corner of his eye he caught soght of the woman with the parrot advancing into another opening, jaw set and eyes hardened. Hand clasped tight around the glass vial, he took a deep breath before stepping into the cave, ducking down against what seemed like the dull, grinning teeth of an open grave, being swallowed like an oblivious fly walking into a trap.

Eyes adjusting to the dark after a few seconds revealed a lower ceiling than expected, the tunnel only as wide as he was tall. Kite’s boots skidded over the smooth stones beneath his feet with each hurried step, but if he stopped, he could no longer bring himself to advance, to draw farther away from the patch of golden light at the entry and deeper where the walls closed in, a web woven too tight to escape the selfish grip of it.

A dull thud and Wing let out a pained grunt, noise repeating around the circling rocks. “Damn, dropped my phone- Asta, can you see it?“  

“Couldn’t see anything even before you lost our only source of light! Oi, Kite?” Sound of fumbling footsteps followed by a stream of profanity. “How the hell’re you even seeing where you’re going?”

Living down in the sewers for a few years and going days without seeing any light brighter than a faint blue flame gathered in a nest of rags and dry enough twigs does that to your eyes. “Natural night vision.” Biting down on his tongue, Kite mumbled, without any indication that he had been heard.

“Fear, it’s useless-“

-only serves to slow down-

“Keep your fear, doubt, anger, everything right here. Don’t let go of them, but don’t let them blind you.”

Slowing down, legs no longer following his command, Kite reached an arm out in the inky void around, grasping for anything other than cold stone and stale, unmoving air, any sign of not being the only one trapped and struggling with no one to aid him, and without anyone to cling onto, had he ever truly existed?

“No spiders so far?” Asta’s high voice bounced against the walls as she trailed Kite, getting more and more distant when the tunnel tilted to the side, throwing Kite against the rough and bumpy interior, lungs burning as if inhaling a mouthful of saltwater. “Whoa there, you alright?”

Sliding to the ground, Kite attempted to swallow past the nausea, screwing his eyes shut so the earth beneath his feet stopped falling apart alongside the meticulously built mask of courageous indifference. His hand bunched up in the front of his sweater, aching to rip his chest open and let out the bile rising in his throat, the invisible imprints of screams snuffed before being born.

Hand on his shoulder, the infinitesimal weight a welcome anchor in the spiralling dark walls closing in further with each breath. “-te, are you claustrophobic? Kite?”

The horrifying realisation of his moment of weakness not only being observed by other people, let alone two he needed to compete against, froze him like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head, prompting him to sit upright with a sudden jolt, blinking against the weak light shining straight in his eyes.

“No, I’m fine.” He rasped out, batting at Wing’s hand resting on his shoulder, the point of contact too much to bear. Wing shone his phone’s torch from Kite, to Asta’s widened eyes and back again. “Get that out of my face.” He grunted through clenched teeth.

Clutching the damp ridges in the walls to pull himself to standing, ignoring Wing’s offered hand and the pointed look exchanged with the other, Kite’s hand went to rest against the roof of the tunnel, ending a few inches over his head in cold, unforgiving stone, nothing but blind faith keeping the weight of the earth from crushing them all.

“Are you sure you’re-“ Wing started, nervously adjusting his glasses, eyebrows knitted in something that came too close to genuine concern. Too sincere, too real .

“I just fell .” Snapping over his shoulder with all the venom his weak voice could manage, Kite continued advancing with his hand on the wall, eyes darting around what little detail the faint light of Wing’s torch brought to life. “You better worry about yourself, if you have any time to spare .”

Asta let out a curt, offended noise, lips pinched as if tasting something sour and unpleasant. “You were nicer when you were dangling 200 feet in the air, somehow.”

With his heart still fluttering, a trapped bird at the base of his throat clawing for a way out, Kite turned away from his companions, their hushed voices drowned in the rush of blood in his ears. Coming to where the tunnel split into two more cramped ways ahead, Kite's throat closed up even further, choking on the heavy weight of memories coloured in red and regret. He could no longer see the entrance behind them.

Pathetic , he thought to himself with the same bite in Crazy Slots’ sneering insults, wishing to melt away and hide in the slight cracks between the stones and remain until all remaining pieces of him had been washed away and dulled into peaceful oblivion, able to find comfort in breathless placidity.

A coward’s wish, but Kite had never claimed to be anything other, nor nothing more.

Almost losing his tenuous balance and grip on himself when his two fellow applicants bodily collided with him, panicking and yelping, Kite resigned himself to what seemed to aspire to be a long, excruciating day. He only needed to get through the exam and rejoin his mentor as a hunter, and everything would go back to normal.

“SPIDER!” Falling past Kite and pulling Asta down with him, Wing fumbled with his phone, keeping the insignificant light shakily fixed on a point above their heads. “Look! I saw- I swear I saw-“

“Something definitely touched my hair!” Asta, having taken to using Kite as a human shield, pointed to a stalactite, and the faintly moving shape around it. “THERE!”

Squinting at the small, fluffy creature, Kite sighed, attempting to pull his arm out of Asta's crushing grip to no avail. “That is not a spider. It’s a bat.”

While Kite and Wing appeared to agree upon bats posing little to no threat, the fact rattled Asta even further, prompting her to curse under her breath while running down the tunnels at a random direction. Snickering, Wing took off after her, but not before pulling him along by the sleeve, his stubbornness overpowering Kite's.

" Fuck fuck fuck why the hell did there have to be winged rats-" her spluttering words, half panicked and half choked laughter, came to a stop some ways ahead of them, cut off by a thunderous crash, the grating sound of stone on stone. The vibrations travelled all the way through the tunnels like blood through veins. Cracks opening across the insides of the cave, tiny dark mouths twisted into gaping sneers, and Kite recognized the chilled touch of death on the back of his neck, finally caught up and demanding a debt to be repaid.

With small rocks and debris raining down in a merciless stream, Kite's hand found Wing's arm and pushed them both back, sending them rolling away from the collapsing tunnel. Bigger rocks left bruises wherever they hit, the pain nothing but a dull afterthought as Wing's hands clasped his shoulders and rolled him onto his back, holding onto the only other real thing where the world fell apart piece by sharp piece.

Falling onto each other in a tangle of awkward limbs and sharp elbows, Kite blinked away the dust in his eyes and craned his neck back, looking at the newly formed dead end, a tower of rocks still tumbling down under the weight of the cave system. Sabotage? By the proctors or the rivalling applicants?

"What- was that?" Coughing, Wing pulled himself off of Kite, glasses knocked askew with his eyes wide and searching behind the lenses. His hand, still on Kite's shoulder, tightened into a white knuckled grip, fingertips digging into sinew and bone. "Wait- Asta! She's still- Asta !"

A pit opened up in his chest, sinking his heart below its depths as Wing hurried to the blocked off tunnel, frantic hands making quick work of throwing rocks and boulders away. His mind chatching up to what his companion planned to do, Kite rushed to his side, pulling him away by the scruff of his jacket.

"Stop-" Straining against Kite's hold, Wing remained unhearing to his warning, hard set to clear the tunnel at all costs. "-you'll collapse the whole cave system on us, damn it!"

Wing twisted himself free and shoved Kite away, a burst of wild Nen behind his hands. Breath left his lungs when his back hit the wall of the tunnel, letting out a groan when his head bounced off the cold stone, the impact rattling in his skull.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Fists clenched by his sides like a bow pulled taut to its limits and ready to strike, Wing shouted, loud and jarring in how it shook the earth. "You selfish- Asta could be stuck under there and you! You're damn worried about yourself ??"

Teeth gritting together, jaw clenched to trap his own roaring shout brewing right behind his clattering teeth, Kite pushed off the wall, closing the small distance between them with a large step. His hand closed around the front of Wing's shirt, the white-knuckled grip more an anchor for Kite rather than pulling the other closer, and still they stood not even a breath away, noses almost touching and eyes gazing straight into eyes, both twisted by the heavy burden of self-preservation against sacrifice, heart against mind.

"The tunnel didn't collapse on its own. It was most definitely rigged with explosives that, if still activated, could go off if an idiot like you tries to go stifling through the debris." Kite said, mouth having long gone dry, and Wing's Ren thrummed under his hand like trying to keep a hold onto lightning, static prickling his skin in unrest. "And this pile of rubble is the only thing stopping this place from becoming our grave, so forgive me for being selfish and not wanting to die!"

The last word came out in a panicked explosion, screamed directly into Wing's face. The tunnel echoed it back, a mantra of die, die, die deafening in the following silence, but no louder than Wing's laboured breathing when he once more pushed Kite back and away, running a shaking hand through his hair and hiding his trembling lips, Ren distinguishing much like the spark of rage under Kite’s tongue.

“What should we do?” Wing looked up and met Kite’s eyes again, heavy with desperation.

“You owe me one now!”

The promise to himself crumbled under the weight of it, meaningless when standing against Wing wringing his hands together in frustration of inaction, with Asta possibly trapped under rubble and debris, in an unacceptable grave.

And so Kite called to his Nen, all keyed up anticipation in being subdued, aura lashing out in a flash too quick to dull the venom, and Wing gave a violent flinch before stumbling back out of Kite’s hungry Ren as it expanded into En. A dizzying second of being aware of all surrounding matter in the 25 metre radius, from the air molecules to the cold stones, and then finding living auras of many-legged insects and small, white-eyed creatures scuttling in dark, damp corners. Wing’s aura lit up like a bonfire, bridling warmth ablaze and steadfast, and beyond that, the familiar bite of stormy seas in the shape of Asta on the other side of the rubble.

Kite exhaled in relief, hands coming up to rub his tired eyes. “I- She’s fine! Asta’s alright!” He turned to Wing’s amber light and found a strained smile reflecting his own, peace and trepidation at once when the other’s hand came to rest on his back and pulled him close, slotting their hearts together to beat side by side in the clumsy embrace. Before Kite’s brain could catch up, to move his own hands to hold on to the other, Wing ripped away, leaving a hollowed out shell in Kite’s chest.

“En! Of course- I didn’t even think of it!” He stepped back, letting out a ragged laugh with his gaze roaming around Kite using Gyo, and only then did he notice he had not concealed his En with In, the startling realisation sending a shuddering wave through his aura. “I still haven’t gotten the hang of it at all. How far can you reach?”

“Roughly 25 metres, but I can't really maintain it for more than a couple of hours without a damned headache.” Closing his eyes and focusing back on Asta, Kite found her moving, one hand braced against the wall of the tunnel for support. “Asta seems unharmed, maybe limping a bit, but she’s good enough to walk at least.” He glanced at Wing over his shoulder, giving him a nod. “You needn’t worry.”

“Good. Good.” Wing whispered more to himself, his shoulders dropping with a shaking exhale. “I hope she can find a way out safely.” And then his head snapped up, an odd quirk to his lips. “Wait- did you just say 'needn't '?”

Heat rose to Kite’s face, sitting heavy around his cheeks, and he had the darkness to thank for keeping it a secret. “Shut up.”

“ Needn’t .” Wing repeated, emphasising each syllable with such glee that Kite felt his own lips curling up against his will. “Who says that with a straight face? Seriously-“

The following chuckle cut through any remaining tension, the bitterness swallowed down as they both stood, shoulders shaking and breaths coming out in interrupted waves of mindless giddiness, elevating the anxiety buzzing under their skins like static, pins and needles biting at their necks after the suffocating weight lifted.

Still breathless, Kite slid down to the ground, hands coming up to press over his eyes. On the other side of the rubble, Asta hobbled out of his En field, standing a bit straighter, head held higher.

Kite had never been a fan of blind faith, but there would be no use in worrying either, not when he couldn’t change the circumstances. Once again, out of nothing but pure, shameless self-service, he found nothing but relief that out of the three of them to be doomed to wander the tunnels on their own, to face the creatures and the other applicants, it had been Asta and not him.

Wing shuffled closer, flipping his phone open again and shining the flashlight at Kite. He looked up through his eyelashes, past the shadows leering and snapping at the light. To be alone, to have to move with the certainty of having no one to turn to would be too much, too difficult of a challenge, and one a proper hunter would not fail.

How he had managed it as a child and for so long evaded him.

“We should go back, find an alternate route before we run out of time.” Straightening up and dusting his pants as if it would rid them of the dust and grime of having a tunnel collapse on them, Kite indicated to where the path ahead had cut off, drawing his En back in. “Gargantuan spiders nest deeper underground, where it’s more damp. Incidentally, that’s where we’ll find the Greeningi frogs.”

Wing’s lips curled down in disgust, almost devolving into a pout. He reached over and tore through an abandoned spider web hanging from the ceiling of the tunnel, inspecting the ghostly veil with no little amount of distaste.  “Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

“If we’re lucky, we might catch a frog or two wandering around on their own, with much lower risk of creepy crawlies involved.” Falling into step side by side and retracing their previous steps, Kite gently bumped their shoulders together, earning a surprised noise from Wing. “They’re rather hard to spot since they blend into the surroundings with their dark brown and grey colouring, so we should keep an eye out. If you see an oddly shaped rock, poke it.” Then, holding his hands up and stumbling over his words, he added; “Not in the spine! The Greeningi frog’s poison is stored in the ridges along its spine so-“

“Avoid the spine. Got it.” Tentatively rounding the corner into a tunnel branching away to their left, Wing turned to him, the soft smile dimpling his cheeks paling in comparison to the intense, quizzing look in his eyes. “Does this mean we’re officially working together? As teammates?”

Blinking against the white, agitating light of Wing’s phone, Kite tasted the declination on his tongue, a sharp no to cut the tethers away and send them each on their own path just as his mentor had insisted he do, but…

“I don’t suppose we have any other choice considering the current circumstances.” His skin stung under his touch, rubbing on a new scratch over his brow bone, nails digging close to drawing blood. “So for now, yes. We are.”

“Hm, allyship by force of circumstance. I can work with that.” Letting out a short laugh, he turned the flashlight back to the tunnel ahead, making no move forwards. With his lips pressed into a tense line, Wing held out his free hand, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, about back then- I shouldn’t have lost it on you like that. You’ve probably figured it out now but I don’t do well, uh, under pressure, not like you.”

Ready to scoff at the ridicule, Kite drew back, crossing his hands over his chest before his brain caught up and recognized the gentle fondness in place of a sour jab, leaving something foreign and warm swelling is his chest as he reached out to meet Wing for a handshake, hoping the other didn’t notice how his fingertips had grown cold.

“It’s alright.” He rasped out, managing a shaky smile in return. “Even if you called me a selfish ass, I think you had a right to lose it a bit.” That would be how most people would react after all, Kite thought to himself, if they hadn’t grown numb to the omnipresent possibility of loss, let it take root and bloom into a tangible vacuum, leaving one alienated and calloused like Kite and Ging.

“Hey now, I don’t remember calling you a selfish ass .” Wing poked him in the chest, smiling with his whole face, with his eyes darker than the inky blackness they waded through. Too real . “I wanted to, though, I just didn’t get a chance to.”

“Better luck next time, then.”

Finally breaking away from their bubble of quiet serenity, Kite took it upon himself to lead the newly formed duo deeper down the gaping maw of earth, grinding his teeth together as the tunnel narrowed and the ceiling hung lower, forcing him to duck down every few steps to avoid misshapen stalactites and the jagged edges.

Wing shone the light upwards, catching more silvery spider webs glinting overhead, a mirage of the night sky and the stars. “Looks like we’re getting closer.”

“God, I sure hope so.” Kite grumbled, pushing himself through a particularly tight squeeze, ribcage expanding in greed for air upon making it through. A strangled noise from behind him, and he turned to see Wing struggling to follow him. “You seem…stuck.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Wing huffed, pulling back through. “No shit. Hold this.” He tossed his phone at Kite before closing his eyes, the aura around his body flowing over to his hand in a brilliant spark of gold. Closed into a tight fist, he brought it down on the slab of rock preventing access, shattering it in a spray of small, sharper stones and dust that coated his tongue upon the first inhale.

With the mischevious self-satisfaction of a cat having gotten his paws on a rare snack, Wing stepped through the formally impassible tunnel with ease, putting his arms behind his head as he approached Kite, grinning.

“I’m pretty new to Nen, so I may be useless at En, but at least I can knock down whatever’s in our way.”

Nodding, Kite handed the phone back and stepped to the side, giving a mock courtesy and doing nothing to hide his own grin. “Then lead the way, sir .”

Wing’s nose scrunched up the way it seemed to do when he tried to bite back laughter, one that escaped when he aimed a faux punch at Kite’s arm. He turned away before Kite could get caught in awe of the easy flow of their interactions, how he had started to recognize familiarity in someone who had once stood as a mere stranger, to have the cadence of his voice become a comfort it what would have otherwise been a deafening silence, only his own heartbeat echoing in the empty halls.

“How long have you been learning Nen?” Kite asked, wrestling his tone into something almost casual, as if the sheer strength of Wing’s punch hadn’t unsettled him somewhere deep down.

“Oh, pretty recently.” Came the bashful reply from ahead, the narrow tunnel having forced them into a single line. “I started learning after graduating this spring, opened my aura nodes after a month and some. I’m still trying to master the four major principles, really. My Sensei keeps saying i’m pretty useless at this whole thing, but that’s just how she is.” 

Kite bit back a scoff, the bitter tang of envy tearing his insides asunder. It had taken him over half a year to open his aura nodes, even if he had been only fourteen, it had started to stretch Ging’s patience rather thin. Had he somehow gotten himself trapped underground with a psudo-Nen prodigy? 

“How about you?” Wing looked over his shoulder. “When did you start learning Nen?”

His hand came to rub at the nape of his neck irritantly, fingers getting caught at his tangled hair as he did so. “Around four years ago.” He kicked at small rocks with the tip of his boot if only to avoid looking at Wing’s too earnest expression of awe.

“Whoa! You must be almost up there with a Nen master or something!”

Kite let out a bitter, joyless laugh, leaning one shoulder against the wall and cracking his knuckles. “Trust me, I still have a long way to go.”

“We both do.” He replied reassuringly, as if he wouldn’t possibly surpass Kite in a year or two. He shook his head again, trying to displess the tension building up in his temples. Jealousy wouldn’t do him any good here.

A gentle pull at his arm, and Kite’s legs finally relented, following Wing as he made wider paths for them to pass through, only half-concerned with damaging the structural integrity of the tunnels when Kite bothered to warn him. Watching the ebb and flow of Wing’s aura, the ease with which he worked, he was again struck down with envy. At the beginning of his journey as a Nen user, physical strength had been a challenge, both due to past malnourishment and his Nen category, which he had later learned would not do him much favours when it came to enhancement. And even now, he couldn’t redirect his aura with the precision he saw in Wing, not to mention his careful stance and practised movements.

His hands clenched into fists by his side, short nails threatening to draw blood.

“Emitter or Enhancer?” Dusting his hands, Wing looked back in surprise, eyebrows raised.

“Enhancer- how could you tell?”

“Lucky guess.”

As he had suspected, and that made Wing someone he would much rather have on his side than to go up against, even if his Hatsu gave him a rather unfair advantage-

“What about you?” Wing asked, the curious gleam in his eyes almost enough to make Kite want to push him away, hackles raised and teeth bared before the haunting realisation hit him like ocean waves washing on the shore, one wave at a time.

Not everyone was an enemy, not everyone aimed to hurt.

A deep breath, and then another. “Conjurer.”

“Cool.” Wing said, interest satiated, and left it at that. No more questions, no prying and prodding for information. Only conversation.

This, Kite decided, would be difficult to get used to, but by god he could .

And whether that would be for the better or for worse…only time could tell.

***

“Did you hear that?”

Pressed against his side, Wing tensed up and shone the flashlight around, asking the same question for the fifth time in an undetermined yet short amount of time.

“That was just our footsteps.” Acutely aware of the space between them, or lack thereof, Kite laid his left hand on Wing’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and prompting him to keep moving, maybe less than gently.

The tunnels spun in an endless loop of grey, growing narrow and tight before releasing their grip just a fraction, allowing a sweet breath of air before clamping down again, a vicious cycle of dizzying hope and despair, a labyrinth with no way out. The air heavy and stale reached in, snuffing out the scream threatening to break through his chest, the light of the spirit still burning in defiance.

Every last ounce of his energy had been focused on Kite himself, to keep the static buzz of fear and trepidation under wraps, but not so different than a kettle coming to boil, steam building up bit by bit before translating into a shriek.

But with Wing, Kite could ignore his own distress in his favour; comfort came easy with the mutual understanding of danger and show of vulnerability, a situation he had never before found himself in. With Ging, there came a sense of simultaneous security and unease, the knowledge of being safe yet entirely on his own if trouble arose.

The novelty of collaborating with one who would likely have his back allowed him to ignore the acrid taste of dread and the gnawing annoyance at Wing jumping at every small noise and wildly waving the flashlight around.

“That was scuttling- didn’t you hear that?” Neck craned back, Wing shone the flashlight upwards, searching between the stalactites.

A sigh to get a grip on his quickly waning patience, and Kite tapped on his katana, the wooden Saya producing a hollow noise. As predicted, Wing winced, stiffening once more.

“I’m pretty sure that was just my katana, now, can you stop freaking out?” Walking into spider webs, Kite spluttered, rubbing at his face with his sleeves, but not before possibly ingesting some. “Gah! We’re probably getting close to a nest, so save your freakouts till then!”

Stifling a snort behind his hand, Wing’s shoulders relaxed, and he reached into his bag, producing a water bottle. “For washing down those spider webs.” He explained, smirking ear to ear as Kite gagged a bit, unable to rid himself of the disgusting sensation of spider webs on his tongue. “You really think we’re getting close to a nest?”

“By god we better be.” He muttered under his breath, handing the water bottle back and peeling the last of the spiderwebs off of his eyelashes. Then, he continued, louder. “More spider webs, a complete absence of small critters-“ And occasional glimpses of not so large spiders skittering away out of view, but Wing didn’t need to know that, did he?

“Good, because I’m pretty sure we’re running out of time, and my phone is about to die.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat loudly.

Kite checked his watch, tutting. Too much time had been wasted, and he couldn’t help but think if he had been on his own, he would have made it back by now. “If we hurry, we should be able to make it in time.”

“Alright, watch your step here-“ With an arm offered out to help Kite over the uneven decline, Wing’s legs tripped out from under him, yelping. His hand shot out, catching the other by the scruff and pulling him upright.

“You were saying?” Kite teased, reaching out to fix Wing’s glasses having been knocked askew, with him averting his eyes.

“It’s slippery, or whatever. Shut up.” He snapped, voice breaking again at a higher pitch, still accepting Kite’s hand and he helped him down to more even ground. “Wait, was that you?”

Kite’s smirk dissolved in a haze of confusion as Wing withdrew his hand, patting it over his own shoulder and scowling. “What?”

“…Nothing.” Then, flashing him a small smile, he made his way past Kite, falling ahead as the tunnel grew narrower and forced them in a line once more. “Uh, I remember Gel saying to be careful not to get bitten by the Gargantuan spiders…What would happen if, you know…?”

“If I’m not wrong, strong paralytic, takes effect in seconds and renders the prey immobile to then be consumed by the spiders, still alive might I add, right up until the respiratory system failure in about half an hour.” Kite said, as matter of fact as he could, and noticed Wing failing to suppress a shiver at his callousness. Reaching for words to comfort, he came short. No lie would serve any real purpose here, only a hollow reassurance.

“Don’t get bitten at all then…got it, alright-“ Wing whispered to himself, voice breaking as he got quieter and quieter.

Soon, silence became the only noise other than their footfalls. Kite checked every opening between the stones, places the frogs could be hiding, poking and prodding curiously shaped rocks per his own advice and still coming up empty-handed. Wing peeked over his shoulder as he stretched up to inspect a hollow behind a curtain of spider webs, sweeping them aside with the end of his katana.

“Nothing?”

Kite shook his head no, his lip curling in disdain when light reflected off a pile of not-so-small white bones. Fox skeletons, if he wanted to wager a guess. “Probably an abandoned spider nest, no sign of the frogs.”

Biting down on his lip, Wing turned, continuing down the tunnel. “You know, considering everything I heard about the hunter exam, I didn’t think I’d get disqualified because I couldn’t find some frogs .” He let out a strained chuckle, nervous and dry. “I kinda got myself ready to die in battle or something, and man-eating spiders aside, this is a relief, don’t you think?”

“You’re not getting disqualified, because I’m not .” Kite said, almost hissing and harsher than intended, eyes locked to Wing’s tense shoulders. “And I wouldn’t call anything about this a-“

Almost jumping when Wing flinched, his hand went to his weapon, senses on high alert as the other turned on his heels, eyes wide and fearful. “Was that you?”

“What- Get that out of my face.” Kite blinked against the flashlight, reaching out to lower Wing’s arm, but froze when he pulled away in one violent motion.

“Not funny.” Narrowing his eyes at Kite, he seemed reluctant to turn his back to him once more, lines of his body shifting from their easy, relaxed angles to a more defensive stance. “If you really care about passing this phase that much you should stop clowning around.”

“What are you talking about?” Kite asked, brows raised in earnest confusion at the sudden change of attitude. “Messing around how- hey!”

Without any indication of having paid attention to him, Wing continued down the tunnel, aiming an angry kick at a stalagmite, leaving it a shattered pile of rubble with a burst of white hot Nen. Kite gritted his teeth hard enough for his jaw to protest, resisting the urge to grab the other by the arm and yell in his face if only to let out some of the frustration building in the pit of his stomach, but instead slowed his pace, allowing distance to build up between them. With his nerves as fraught as Wing’s, if not more, he doubted his ability to remain calm and rational, and only wanted to get out of the damned tunnels to stretch out as tall as he could, with the sun warm and golden on his skin.

He drew in a deep breath of the damp and stale air, trailing several paces behind Wing and having no intention to break the icy, fragile silence stretching between the two. Whatever problem his teammate struggled with, he was more than welcome to sort it out on his own. In fact, Kite thought to himself, bitter and silently seething, maybe they would part ways coming to the next junction and the possibility weighed heavy in his heart, painting a grim end to what could have been much more.

From up ahead, Wing let out a small gasp and a violent flinch. Stomach dropping, Kite closed the distance between them only to be pushed back by a blunt wave of Ren, the bite of unmistakable anxiety sinking its teeth deep within.

“You’re seriously not being funny right now!” Once again, Wing’s gentle voice rose to a crescendo of unfiltered rage demanding attention, with his hair standing around his head like a wild mane.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Kite shouted back, unrestrained. His eyes drew to a point on Wing’s shoulder, a movement in the dark, but it could have been a trick of the shadows.

“Oh come on- I don’t know how but just stop tapping on my shoulder when we’re, you know, literally looking for a nest of fucking spiders !”

Almost opening his mouth to correct him that they were, in fact, looking for frogs and not spiders, Kite’s jaw fell slack when he finally focused on the shadow he had seen before, a spindly leg reaching over Wing’s shoulder and towards his neck.

“Wing, don’t move.”

The blade of his katana cut through the darkness just as the spider, bigger than his hand, lurched upwards and Wing fell back, letting out a strangled scream. Kite leaped forwards, colliding with the other and hitting the spider with his bare hand without thought. Even through his gloves, his stomach churned at the fuzzy, hard feeling of the arachnoid against his palm, the dull noise it made when he knocked it off. With one of its legs broken and fangs dripping with venom, it moved to attack once more, latching onto Kite’s boot. Swearing, he kicked it away, crushing another one of its legs.

The shine of the blade exploded across his vision like lightning, and he brought it down on the scuttling arachnid, leaving it bisected. Its jaws twitched once before Kite crushed its head under his boot with a wet noise, ensuring the damned thing was dead. Behind him, Wing made a disgusted sound, and he turned to find him in a collapsed heap on the ground.

“Oh god, Wing-“

He practically dropped his weapon and picked Wing up by the collar, his free hand grabbing for the flashlight and searching for twin puncture holes with dread building up in the back of his head, running through possibilities if a pair of dark holes stared out of Wing’s skin. Would Gel have an antidote? She must have- But could Kite get him out fast enough? Or would his teammate grow more slack until he dropped like a ragdoll, unseeing eyes shining as his brittle heart gave its last fluttering attempts of keeping him alive and settled into the deafening silence of the dead?

“Did it bite you? Are you okay?” Voice trembling, he ran a frantic hand over Wing’s neck and pulled open the first few buttons of his shirt, finding only unbroken skin and a tight, black undergarment. He shook his head no, colour having drained from his face, and his hand closed in on Kite’s lapel, holding himself up when his legs gave out. “Wing, did it bite you or not?!”

“I think- I’m fine?” Reply soming out weakly against his last loud inquiry, he collapsed as Kite’s hold on his shirt gave way, and Kite followed suit, dropping down by Wing’s side and resting his elbows on his knees, allowing his head to drop back and eyes to fall shut.

Beside him, Wing scratched at his shoulder and neck with shaking hands, breathing quick and shallow. “Just how long- was that thing on me?”

Kite shrugged, throwing a glance at the crushed carcass. Longer than it should have taken him to notice, he knew, and just short of adding yet another one to the number of casualties. His hand went to rest on Wing’s forearm, more to reassure himself than anything, to make sure the solid weight beneath his touch wouldn’t crumble and fall away like a dream too good to survive.

“It could have bitten me any time, and I- I thought you were fucking with me! How stupid can-“ The bout of raspy laughter shocked Kite into opening his eyes to see Wing holding his head in his hands, whole body trembling with heaving breaths. “This- all of this insane! What are we doing here with- bloody man eating spiders?”

“Calm down. You’re okay, Wing. I know-“

Words did not come easy to him, didn’t paint a picture of understanding the world shattering split second able to open a chasm between living and the dead, to go to the other side just to be dragged back. Kite knew what sort of a primal terror Wing felt, had lived it a hundred times, of waking shivering instead of having frozen or finally given in to the swirling mass of hunger growing ever so insatiable. Yellow fangs snapping at his neck and silver blades all demanding blood, demanding his wretched life. By god, he knew nothing made life seem so tangible and breakable until it had been caressed by death, and it would make one’s grip go tighter, to hold it closer to their chests- this small, infinitesimal life that meant everything and was worth nothing.

He understood, but only as someone having grown accustomed to clinging to his life, fighting tooth and nail one battle after another, no longer even remembering the first time the shadow of the end loomed over him. And Wing, now, needed words he did not recall, needed tender hands not scarred and calloused with sheer stubbornness and hunger.

Wing lifted his head back up, mock laughter long since given its place to uneven breaths. His hand ran through his dark hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles. Avoiding Kite’s gaze, he pulled himself upright with a hand grasping at the wall, legs wobbly and unsteady.

“I give up.”

Three simple words, an evident resignation, and a blatant show of weakness . Words Kite wouldn’t dare utter in battle or during a hunt, as they went against the spirit of a hunter. Hunters did not give up. Hunters did not lose. Hunters didn’t bow down to the impossible and instead made it possible.

Kite stumbled while straightening up, heart thrumming a restless tune in his ears. “What? Wing, what do you mean?”

Head hanging low, Wing’s shoulders twitched, hands closing into white-knuckled fists. “I give up.” He said, voice tight and subdued. “I’m…I’m not made for this, being a hunter. I can’t- this is all insane! We could die, we could’ve died so many times by now and I just can’t keep going anymore!“

“Look, Wing, I know everything seems like too much right now, but you’ve made it this far, don’t give up just because-“ Wing cut it, turning on his heels to face Kite, eyes twin rippling dark oceans as he blinked rapidly, shaking his head.

“How can you be so calm, after- after everything?” He asked, void of anger or distaste, and Kite didn’t know how to tell him he was anything but , only having mastered the art of hiding behind a porcelain mask of deceit. “In the first phase, when I heard people falling- I could barely take it. So many people died , Kaito, and I could’ve been one so easily.” Voice trembling, his hand came to cover his mouth, eyes squeezing shut. “Couldn’t stop thinking- one wrong move and-“

“I know.” As awkward as someone who had never been comforted nor had anyone to show him the same courtesy, Kite laid a hesitant hand on Wing’s shoulder, patting twice and trying to find the words to tell him of the queasy, suffocating weight of taking risks without the promise of a positive outcome, only making it to the end just to survive and have another challenge waiting, but there was light at the end of the tunnel, wasn’t it? “We all knew we would possibly pay with our lives when we signed up for the exam. They all knew the price they had to pay, so no use lamenting for the dead, not when you’re here and alive , with so much left to do!”

Wing looked up and dropped his hand to reveal a shaky smile, breakable and wan as the sun on a cloudy day. “You- you’re strong, smart, but I’m just-“ Again shaking his head as if to rid himself of grim thoughts, he ripped his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes furiously. “- so weak . Even if I get through this phase alive, who knows about the next, and the one after that?”

With a deep breath, Kite grabbed Wing by the shoulders as he began to step away, holding him in place. “That’s the thing: you don’t. You’ll never know if you can make it to the next hurdle no matter how hard you want to, but you can’t make it unless you damn try!” He gulped and leaned down, voice having dropped to a low rasp in the uncontrolled flurry of words. “And there is no point in running because that’s how life is. It’s terrible and painful and an inexplicable pit of unknowns but by god it’s beautiful and oftentimes all we have .”

His grip on Wing’s shoulders grew lax and he stole his eyes away as the other’s features softened, smoothing over with a delicate sense of wonder. Kite’s eyes fell closed as a warm hand caressed his cheek, a ghost of a touch so slight he might have dreamt it.

“We’re here to be hunters, because something in us calls to chase after what we want, instead of being chased. That’s what distinguishes us from prey, we’ll do anything, even if it’s an impossible gamble, and I’ll still bet because I’ve learned that if you're not ready to lose everything then you'll never have the chance to win either."

Throat raw from the vulnerability, from the thoughts caged too long now finally set free, Kite straightened up, holding his hand out and still keeping his gaze fixed on the empty space between them.

“I- I’m not strong, not like you believe. I’m more afraid than you can ever imagine and I don’t think I can go on alone.” His fingertips trembled in time with his fluttering heart, the words stay with me trapped behind his lips. “Don’t give up now. Let’s finish this together, alright?”

A welcome weight settled onto his palm, fingers lacing with his, and Kite finally looked down at Wing, eyes steeled over with a familiar sort of certainty, the determination of a hunter.

“Together, then.” He repeated, brightening dreary skies, and Kite smiled, squeezing his hand once and nodding.

At another time, he would have felt the clammy heat of embarrassment raising to the back of his neck, bitten down on his tongue and walked away, but now, each step echoed with assurance and safety of a weapon in one hand and company in the other, touching from the shoulders to the fingertips.

And for a fleeting moment, he found himself content and at peace, enough to forget what came before and that would come after, only the now and the tender silence, stolen looks and hidden smiles.

Yes, quite content.

***

A boulder came down, and crushed a dog-sized spider with a sickening squelch , leaving its long furry legs twitching for a few seconds before falling still. Wing backed off, nose scrunched in poorly hidden disgust and dusting his hands.

“Was that the last of them?” He asked, eyes darting around the tunnel housing the spider nest, wider than the ones before with thick sheets of sticky spider webs formerly covering every surface, some now stuck to the duo.

Looking around at the disturbed spider webs and the carcasses strewn around, Kite searched his pockets for a handkerchief to wipe the bluish, gelatinous arachnid blood coating the blade of his katana. Wing’s disquiet earlier had dissipated, leaving an enviable single-minded focus that got the task at hand done without as much of an eyebrow twitch. Despite his aversion to spiders, he had dispatched them in a quick and rather creative manner of, well, crushing them with heavy rocks and boulders, serving the dual purpose of efficiency and not having to come close to the disgusting creatures.

Supposed perks of teaming up with an Enhancer: trust him to come up with the simplest yet most effective solution.

Slashing away at spider webs blocking his path, Kite kept one eye on any sudden movements, the click click clack of scuttling legs above his head or dark shapes crouched in corners, fangs glistening with venom and ready to sink in.

“I don’t see any left, but don’t let your guard down.” He called to Wing, keeping a firm grip on his weapon without sheathing it. “Spiders are smart- much smarter than we give them credit for. When facing danger, they might stubbornly attack, but seeing others fall prey might deter them. In any case, having a taste of your Ren, I don’t think they’re too eager to attack again for a while.” Flashing a smile over his shoulder at his bashful teammate, he fought the urge to run a hand through his inky black hair and brush the spider webs out.

“Oh! I, uh, well-“ Wing stammered, scratching at his chin and chuckling. “I thought I had it under control, but if it keeps them away, I’m glad I didn’t. Good thing my teacher isn’t here though, she’d give me a right smack for not controlling my Ren!”

To his credit, Wing had kept decent control on his Ren up until the biggest spider of the nest had come forward; with its fangs as long as Kite’s forearm and eight vacant, soulless eyes, Kite himself had sensed his aura growing sharp and frigid under his skin as the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, and then a wave of devastating force came crashing, neither violent nor malicious but far too nebulous to be a neutral show of Ren. Turning back to see Wing with his eyes shining a steely grey, colourless where his aura span with all the shades of a sunrise, and his hair puffing up like an animal desperate to make himself look bigger, more dangerous, had taken Kite aback almost as much as their arachnid attackers, halting them in their tracks.

And afterwards, it had been a matter of how quick he could slash at the spiders before they skittered away.

“It takes a while to get a complete hang of it. And it came in handy, after all.” Kicking away a football-sized rock with his boot and peering under, his nose turned with disgust at finding a half-eaten prey of the spiders instead of the frogs. A raccoon, maybe, or some sort of a squirrel. He put the rock back and choked back a wave of nausea. “Have you found anything that’s not dead?”

A grunt, and then a few cusswords rang out before Kite received his answer. “Uh, nope, very dead.” Wing appeared around a corner, shaking spider webs off his arms. “Why would frogs nest with these spiders anyways? Wouldn’t they kill them?”

Cutting away at more spider webs, Kite gestured to the wall of the tunnel, beckoning Wing over. “Search here, between the rocks. They might be hiding.” Both crouched down side by side, with Wing’s flashlight shining in the gaps between the stones. “And surprisingly, no, Gargantuan spiders are far too massive to hunt smaller prey such as Greeningi frogs. As to why the frog nest close to the spiders is that the spider eggs are under constant attack from other species that, as you might guess, are too small to be repelled by the spiders and this practically provides a rich buffet for the frogs, a win-win. Keeping the eggs safe while having a never-ending food supply.”

Kite allowed himself to ramble on, revelling in the sheer novelty of having someone listen and drink in new information, while before, he had always stood as the listener. Whatever new facts or tidbits he managed to pick up were never news to his mentor, but with Wing he could go on and on about the intricacies of the food chain and how it affected the ecosystem for hours, and the other would look at him with attentive, bottomless eyes, often offering a small piece of his own knowledge, or further prodding him with questions, and perhaps Kite enjoyed that far too much.

“Oh, like a symbiotic relationship, right? I remember this from organic bio.” Wing said from beside him, very much not looking for frogs and instead focused on Kite with one arm tucked beneath his chin. “I always thought that was exclusive to parasites though.”

“Oh, that’s not the only form of symbiosis!” Sitting back and crossing his legs, the importance of finding the frogs and the constant march of time slipped to the back of his mind, a few moments of stolen self-indulgence in the dark, dank bowels of the earth. “There are five forms; the one where the relationship is beneficial to both species is called mutualistic symbiosis, like-“

“The Gargantuan spiders and Greeningi frogs.” Wing finished, smiling soft and open, prompting Kite to return it with his own. “No wonder I failed organic bio. Probably got all of them mixed up.”

He snorted, standing up and nudging Wing with his boot. “Let’s make sure we don’t fail this, shall we?”

Following suit with a groan and a few joints popping, hand propped on his left knee, Wing began inspecting where the spiders had woven the most webs on the wall and near the ceiling. “Not saying you should, but you could use En to find the frogs, right?”

“I certainly could, but where would the fun be in that?” His gaze followed to where Wing stood, shining his light and trying to see through the spider webs, and then to an indentation in the surface of the webs, as if woven over a hollow opening. “Hey, right there, let me see that-“

With the light focused on it, Kite sheathed his katana and ripped the webs away by the end of his saya, careful and slow, to reveal 3 frogs with their eyes shining like polished marbles, one letting out a quiet ribbit .

“Here you are!” Wing beamed, putting his arm around Kite’s shoulder and pulling him into a half hug, all too quick for his mind to catch up. “Good catch!”

“Hey there-“ Putting his weapon away, Kite held a hand out to the frogs, a habit honed by years of befriending dogs. He prompted the least startled one to climb onto his palm, his other hand searching through his pockets for the glass vial. With a closer look, he found the indentations along the frog’s spine where the poison would be stored, and pressed the vial over one as gently as he could, keeping a firm hold on the frog. “It’s alright, no need to be scared. Just a little bit of your poison-“

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Wing tensing up, hand coming to rest on Kite’s arm. “What are you doing? Protect your hands with Gyo in case it stings you or something.”

“Hm? That won’t be a problem.” With the vial filled, he loosened his hold on the frog, who blinked up at him but made no move to jump away. “See? Told you we wouldn’t hurt you. Wing, your turn now.” He held out the frog to Wing, unable to keep a smile from tilting his lips upwards.

Sighing, Wing retrieved his own vial, inspecting the docile frog with great scrutiny. “How does this work? I just need to press this to its back?”

Kite nodded, thumb caressing the frog. “Be careful.”

Despite being much more hesitant than Kite, Wing got the hang of extracting the poison, pressing the opening of the vial over the frog’s spine with his aura concentrated in his hands. By the time his vial was filled, the frog had made himself at home in Kite’s hand, showing no indication of wanting to hop away, and he was more than happy to keep carrying their little new friend.

Wing capped the vial and threw a hurried glance at his watch. “Hey, we should head back right now before the time runs out.”

“Alright. Lead the way.” Kite straightened up, throwing a questioning look at Wing tapping his shoe in impatience albeit seeming to hold back a smile at the same time. “What?”

“Leave the frog, Kaito.”

Kite held the frog to his chest in a moment of instinctual protectiveness before his shoulders sagged down, resigned. “Do I seem like someone who would displace an animal out of its ecosystem?”

Finally cracking a grin, Wing poked him in the shoulder. “Call it whatever you want, but you can’t be bringing along a poison frog for the rest of the exam, unless you get to train it into a killing machine or something.”

“You sound just like my mentor.” He grumbled, crouching down and coaxing the frog to jump away with a series of ribbits . “ Leave the poison salamander, Kite. You can’t adopt the fire breathing Wyvern, Kite. Don’t you dare smuggle another wild wolf into the hotel, Kite . Absolutely no fun, the two of you.”

“Well, he seems like a pretty rational guy, but I might just be biassed.” Laughing, Wing walked ahead before freezing in his tracks, slowly turning to look at Kite with an almost exaggerated look of wide-eyed surprise. “Wait, what do you mean another wolf ? How many wolves did you smuggle into a hotel and why ?”

“Long story.” Kite clapped him on the back, not bothering to hide his rather wicked smirk, and gave him a gentle push forwards. “Think you can find the way back?”

Still eying him with great suspicion and visibly biting back questions, Wing nodded, gesturing to tunnel ahead, blithe and self-assured. “We just have to go back the way we came. How hard can it be?”

***

Quite difficult, as they soon came to find out, the irony of Wing’s words not at all lost on Kite and yet he was reluctant to comment, throat tight in the wake of the walls seeming to press in just a bit more with each blink. With the blood having drained from his face, he hovered beside Wing as if a half-transparent spectre while the other shone the last of the dying light up ahead, attempting to distinguish between thousands of nigh-identical tunnels with fear blooming under his skin, betrayed by his clenched jaw and the minuscule beads of sweat above his brows. Kite bit down on his lip and tasted the familiar tang of copper, a phantom crawling out from between the cracks and tap tap tapping against his sternum. His nails scratched against the thin skin of his throat in an attempt to wipe away the lingering dread that had never left him since a cold blade dug into his neck, dug out the only thing he was never willing to give up and dangled it over his head.

You lose. All bets are off now .

Steps skidded over stone, and not the soft crimson dirt of the Gold Vein where the mountains bled gold and blood only ran red and putrid. Worlds away from the place that had almost claimed his life, heartbeats away from becoming his tomb, Kite reached an arm up and his fingertips grazed against the rough ceiling of the tunnel where their light caught the droplets gathering on cobwebs and lit them up in a poor imitation of a night sky awash with an ocean of stars. 

He had always wanted to draw his last breath under a starry sky.

Reds and oranges spread behind Kite’s eyelids, fallen shut without him realising or caring, and he opened his eyes to Wing shining the flashlight at his face, uncertain on his feet and even less certain about approaching him as he did exactly that. “You, uh, don’t look so good.” He picked around his words with much more care than Kite had ever bothered to, even if he repeated a question asked several times over, jagged corners now smoothed down. “Are you okay?”

Teeth grinding against each other, a prison of his own making and silent as a grave, Kite gave a curt nod, something acrid with sharp points boiling under his skin at Wing’s unconvinced eyebrow raised. As f his answer, a practised I’m fine , would come out any different, that after enough times rereading the same line over and over again he would catch something new in the rifts between the letters, some hidden truth that would shed light on why Kite felt like drowning in a room full of air, that sometimes his hands shook so hard they couldn’t get a grip on weapons given form from his own soul and how he lay awake at night, asking himself how much would he need to give back to atone for the lives he had struck down, running the numbers again and again and coming short. 

Something in him broke loose when Wing reached over, tentative and careful, hooking their index fingers together without a word, a tenderness for which no words existed to be said. Kite allowed his head to hang low, the wiry muscles of his shoulders pulled taut with tension dropping a fraction.

“I need to get out of here Please, I-.” He whispered, chest tight and heaving. Wing’s thumb brushed over his scraped knuckles as he nodded, making a soft noise of understanding.

“We will. I promise you, just a little while longer.”

And how could Kite not trust him with that earnest face and steady aura? He nodded again, and Wing returned to the task of finding their way back to the surface through the winding bowel of earth, now an edge of determination to his gaze as he led them down tunnel after tunnel.

“There! Look!” He let out a joyous whoop, the noise far too bright and cheery in Kite’s ears, and pointed to an oddly misshapen stalagmite, slanted with the tip broken off. “I remember this- We passed it on our way in, right? Must be the right way then.” 

“No.” A strangled sigh, and Kite shook his head, forcing out each word like spitting out broken teeth. “We passed it just now. You must have gotten turned around somehow.”

Wing pushed his glasses up his nose, jaw tight and skin glistening. “We can’t have gone around in a circle.”

“Apparently we have.”

Backing away, Kite leaned back against the rough interior wall before his vision faded to a dizzying whirlwind of impossible colours behind his eyelids, hands wiping roughly at the cold sweat beading over his brows. He had never dealt well with being confined, and to be trapped knowing there to be a way out but not finding the red thread marking the exit made him want to crawl out of his skin, to claw at the walls until fingertips reduced to white bone, bleeding the tears he could not shed.

“Kaito?” The harsh, disyllabic name broke into a gentler melody in Wing’s soft voice, the weight of his hand settling into the crook of Kite’s arm. “Look at me, we’ll find our way out of here, alright? I’ve got this.”

“Evidently you do not.” Kite dropped one hand, forcing a smile onto his face and hoping it didn’t twist into a grimace. “I have a bad sense of direction, true, but you somehow lack one entirely.”

“Alright now mister, that’s uncalled for.” Hand tightening around Kite’s arm, Wing’s nose scrunched up into a mock pout as he led Kite away from the wall and back the way they had come, eyes darting up and down the dark ends of the tunnel. “Why do I put up with you-“

“Because we’re stuck together in a labyrinth and can’t find the way out?” He snickered, and Wing joined in, finally giving way to a small, sweet smile. 

“I guess, it could’ve been worse.” He gave a half shrug, free hand coming up to adjust his glasses. “You’re pretty good company, all things considered.”

“I’ll take that.” Muttering, Kite tugged his arm away and straightened up, clicking his tongue. What he wouldn’t do for a compass, like the one his mentor carried but never had a need to use, blessed with an impeccable sense of direction from being raised in the belly of nature. He looked between the three tunnels ahead, stepping towards the one with the most cramped ceiling even if his stomach flipped. “This should lead back to the spider nest, from there we can retrace our steps again, find the correct way.”

Falling to step beside him, Wing gave another shrug, chewing on his bottom lip. “I sure hope you’re right.”

“I am.” Kite said, dropping his eyes down to his scuffed boots, and drew in a deep breath, ribcage finally free of the invisible restraints and hungrily taking in a gulp of stale air. Laying a hand on his chest, he traced the wooden crucifix tucked under his shirt and resting on his heart, over a swirling web of thin white scars drawn on with intent; a memory of wounds smoothed over like river stones, worn away instead of healing. Glancing at Wing from the corner of his eye, he found the other already looking back, sending him stuttering for a moment before he found his voice again. “I think I am a bit claustrophobic. Have been since, uh, last year when I took a job in mines but I didn’t think I was this… scared .” 

Unfazed in the face of his rushed admission, Wing nodded, listening intently without a comment, no shadow of judgement darkening the soft lines of his face. 

And Kite found himself grappling for words, sleek river stones slipping through his listless fingers before he could grab ahold of them.

“I’m glad I got to be lost in this labyrinth with you.”

Not waiting for a reply, he turned his back to Wing, allowing it to hang between them, skip skip skipping over the rippling silence stretched between them, and missed how Wing’s surprise settled into a bashful smile, mouthing me too .

***

Not before long, it became glaringly apparent how wrong he had been about his own sense of direction.

“This doesn’t make any damned sense-“ Coming to an abrupt stop, he threw his arms open, one hand nearly catching Wing in the face. “-we definitely came this way from the nest! We even found your number badge which you had dropped and would’ve lost if I had not slipped on it.”

Spluttering, Wing adjusted his glasses again, averting his gaze and mumbling about the clip coming loose. Kite groaned, scratching at the back of his neck , having grown clammy under his ponytail, once again restless and trapped .

“Should we backtrack again or see where we end up if we continue going this way?” 

Wing’s brows knitted together as he contemplated, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “Your call. Literally every decision I’ve made so far turned out to be way wrong, and you’re better at this than me.” He finally said, sincere and quiet, stealing his eyes away.

Lips pressing into a thin line, Kite threw a glance around the tunnel, looking for any slight clue that could tip him off, the little subtle signs his mentor could catch and piece together with lightning speed, and came up empty-handed.

Trust your instincts , he would have said, but Kite’s instincts always lead to being poised on the ball of his feet, ready to flee, to raise his hackles at a wrong look and menacing flash of teeth and bare his own. His instincts had him push Wing away, to build a glacier wall between himself and Asta, and had nothing to contribute to finding the exit. It seemed the only time he had made the right call had been when he decided to follow a spiky-haired hunter out of the slums some half a decade ago.

And did he still stand worthy to follow in his footsteps, or would he have the title of hunter ripped away from him right here and now?

“Let’s continue on.” Darkness pressed on tighter, heavier. “We’re bound to end up somewhere familiar, and we can pick up the path from there.”

What’s the point of overthinking if you don’t think up anything useful? Crazy Slots’ phantom shrill voice rattled around in Kite’s skull, digging against the bone and the heavy pressure around his temples. The imagined laugh of his demented Nen beast did nothing to lessen the tension headache’s grip, throbbing in time with the beat of his heart. Let it go a little, go crazy!

His hand found the crook of Wing’s elbow, lingering with no aim other than to make sure his companion still stood by his side, that each step taken wouldn’t be done so alone.

***

“So much for finding somewhere familiar.” Wing’s voice echoed around the spacious cavern, bouncing against the far walls again and again alongside the vague noise of bat wings flapping in the distance. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is new.”

“You’re correct.” Making his way to the centre with his eyes searching as far as their flashlight could reach, Kite finally got a hold of a glimmer of hope. “Look, no cobwebs. We must be nearing the surface!”

“But which way to go-“ Sighing, Wing shone the light to the inky opening of a tunnel, and then another one to its right, and one running in the opposite direction. He raised a brow, indicating to Kite with a slight curve to his lips. “Feeling lucky?”

Kite let out a dissatisfied hum, yet his lips twitched upwards in mild amusement. Crazy Slots would have appreciated that line if it were here. “No, not particularly, but we’ll have to take the chance if we ever want to make it out of here.”

“Hm, if we’re never ready to lose we won’t have the chance to win either , right?” Smile audible in his voice, so real Kite could see it without lookinh, Wing nudged him, putting his arm loosely around Kite.

“Shut up.” He pulled his hat down and shrugged Wing’s arm off, setting off to inspect the lone tunnel at one side of the cavern, beckoning him over.

Wing’s chuckle kept in step as he called from behind him, the light casting Kite’s shadow tall and looming into the opening of the tunnel as it curved down, blending into the black drop where the light could no longer reach. “Hey, I was agreeing with you. Actually, it was really profound, what you said back there.”

“Profound.” Kite repeated, hand coming up to ruffle Wing’s hair before he could stop himself, freezing before pulling away and avoiding meeting his eyes at all cost. “You have a very low bar for what you consider profound. Also with this tunnel going down I doubt it’ll lead to the surface.”

“Hey, I didn’t read Wilde and Keats in 5th grade for you to insult my profoundness detecting ability .” With a faux edge of disgruntled offence to his words, Wing turned to face the two remaining tunnels, tilting his head to one side. “Here’s the thing, you don’t strike me as a gambler. I’ve known my fair share, as a former bookie. I don’t think you would take on a challenge unless you knew you'd win, from what I’ve gathered about you at least, and gamblers just aren’t like that. If anything, they’re all impulsive and thoughtless.”

“That would defeat the purpose of a gamble, wouldn’t it?” He extended his arm towards the two available paths, by all means identical, one could lead to the surface or not, rather dragging them deeper into the spiral’s clutch. “It all comes down to knowing when the best time to place a bet is.”

“And when is that? When the odds are in your favour or something?”

“No.” Kite smiled, placing a hand over Wing’s shoulder and leaning down to his height, eye to eye. “It’s when you have the most to lose.” He watched the other’s slow blink, black eyelashes coming close to touching his cheekbones before lifting up again. Straightening up, Kite gestured to the tunnel on the right, took a deep breath and placed his bet. “This one.”

Jolting as if broken out of a trance, Wing looked up, adjusting his glasses. “Did you pick that at random, or?” 

“Call it a gut feeling.” He replied, hands tightened into fists by his sides. Restless, but not like before. His fingers twitched. “If I think too much about it we might end up staying here forever and-“

A slight shift in the air, and Kite's skin crawled with goosebumps, words falling stale and forgotten as his arm whipped out and halted Wing, finger pressed to his lips and eyes glued to the wavering shadows emerging from the gaping maw of the tunnels, a mass of limbs and undeterred steps merging and taking form, cut with the smiling edge of a blade giving it's familiar sneer, the gathering of dark clouds before the storm broke.

The electricity in the atmosphere rose to its crescendo, Kite's shoulders tight and back hunched as three figures stepped into the light, movements jerky and unnatural, faces distorted in the caricature of rage with teeth bared in a snarl and glassy eyes on top, wide open but unseeing. Bearing swords and spears with white-knuckled grips, they waved their weapons in unison, a strange coordinated gesture too clumsy to have been rehearsed, too intentional to be a coincidence. Kite caught a glimpse of a crooked number badge pinned over one's rumpled shirt, reading 30 , the fellow applicant having arrived at the exam site just a bit earlier than him.

Wing's hand settled on his arm, face reflecting back the apprehension and question written on Kite's, and then turned his gaze over to the applicants, lips pressed together in a tight line. "You lot- we don't want any trouble, and probably neither do you, so if you could uh, move aside and let us pass…" he trailed off, eyes flicking upwards to Kite as he shook his head in disbelief. Attempting to communicate with a clearly hostile party was useless, if not detrimental. His being called to attack, strike and tear away, or turn tails and run until his heart settled down again.

The three did not react any more than slight twitches and jerky steps, fanning around to circle around the duo, and alarm bells rang louder in the back of Kite's head, a crawling sense of anxiety as if he had missed something. What had he missed?

A blink and his aura concentrated in his eyes, the three applicants lighting up deep maroon much to his surprise. Not at them being Nen users, even if earlier he had failed to notice that, but at the shape of the aura, starting at their heads and wrapping around their limbs like a parasitic creature, puppeteering them with stiff movements and no intent behind their gazes.

"Something's wrong." He mumbled, drawing back against Wing with his jaw clenched as the manipulated applicants stared on with dead eyes. The one on the right raised her arm, shoulder drawn up and spasming.

"No shit- And the sky's blue!" Hissing back, Wing gripped his shoulder tighter, agitated Ren grating against Kite's frozen Ten. "You know, when three people block my way with weapons drawn I could safely assume something's wrong!"

Catching the slightest of movement from his peripheral, Kite's hand came up and closed around an arrow before it found its mark in his head, the wood splintering under his grip with the force of Ren expelled from his body, a kneejerk reaction learned through more battles than he cared to count, the marks trailing along his skin reminders of where he stood: as a hunter or the hunted? That if he were to come out victorious, then there needed to be no hesitation.

Promise to himself be damned.

At the flash of the spearhead cutting down, fangs dripping with a hunger for blood, Kite pushed Wing back with a burst of Nen behind his palm and caught the spearhead with his other hand. Locking eyes with the applicant, a visceral sense of uncanny uncertainty crawled up his spine. His true opponent hid in the shadows while he battled mere puppets, a few crucial steps ahead. And these three, caught in the crossfire as collateral-

Behind him, Wing groaned, and Kite kept a tight hold on the spear as he shouted over his shoulder, heart dropping after hearing another arrow leaving the crossbow. "Use Gyo! They're being Manipulated!" His arm came down on the spear, breaking it in two, and Kite swung the makeshift bat, catching his opponent in the side of the head and knocking him down.

Turning around, he froze upon seeing Wing in a practised stance before taking his opponent and throwing him over his head rather elegantly, no hint of panic or unnecessary movements, all done with the touch of a seasoned fighter. Impressing, for such an unassuming-looking guy. He straightened up from his crouch and dusted his hands, raising a brow at Kite.

"What?"

Flashing a smile, Kite twirled the broken spear between his fingers, the other hand coming to rest on his hip. "Nothing, I just seemed to have misread you."

Wing’s lips curved upwards even as he attempted to keep his face neutral, smiling with his eyes instead. "Alright, but now isn't the t- Behind you!"

Pressure closed in on Kite's neck as relentless arms locked around his head, Wing’s warning shout sending a momentary surge of panic blurring his vision before he reached back and took a hold of his attacker, bent his knees and threw him down over his head, a stomach-churning cracking noise ringing out as the applicant hit the stone ground, no sound of distress escaping him. Blood trickled from the side of his head where Kite had previously struck him, and with his arm bent in the wrong way he still attempted to stand up, gurgling and dead-eyed.

"What the fuck is this?" Wing's eyes flicked up and then back down at the man, burning amber, and when the applicant reached a clumsy hand at his leg, he knocked him out with a swift strike to the neck. Kite caught a glimpse of a small, black object sticking out from behind the unconscious man’s neck. "They keep getting back up, I-"

The whistle of an arrow cutting through the air, and the hairs on the back of Kite's neck rose, time slowing down as the arrow drew closer and closer and Wing collided with him, sending them both tumbling to the ground with the meteor shower of arrows flying over their heads.

Swearing, Kite grabbed the other by his shoulders and rolled them to the side, seeking refuge behind a large stalagmite, pressed close enough to feel Wing’s breath on the side of his face, hitching a fraction when more arrows thudded against the stone shield.

“Thanks for that.” He said, lacking the sharp edge he had intended. Wing shifted as far as their tangled legs would allow, giving Kite a loopy smile.

"It's good to have someone who's got your back, right?"

And what would he say to that ?

So he opted for elbowing Wing in the stomach as he peeked around the stalagmite, fumbling for his katana. From his vantage point, he could only see the one with the crossbow, mechanically taking arrows and firing them at their approximate location.

“You stay here.” Snapping under his breath, Kite straightened up and drew his weapon, focusing his aura on a single point at the tip of the blade and Transmuting it into a dull, sturdy shape. With a strong cutting motion, the Transmuted aura detached from the katana and hit the Manipulated applicant in the hand, knocking the crossbow out of her grip and clattering away on the stone ground. 

A languid blink, and the applicant lunged at Kite, stumbling when Kite stepped to the side and brought down the Saya clutched in his left hand, knocking her to the ground, the glimmering black object at the base of her skull confirming his suspicions. Before she could get up, he tore the needle out, leaving her falling down once again, this time remaining unmoving. His fingers pressed against the side of her neck on habit, and a small, relieved sigh escaped him when he found a pulse.

Straightening up and turning the needle around in his hand, he called out to Wing over his shoulder, failing to suppress a small flinch when he found the other already standing behind him. “Take a look at this.” The needle glimmered crimson with Gyo, a shudder running down his spine as his finger traced the oddly-shaped, jagged pinhead. “They were being remotely controlled with this, basically hijacking their nervous system by being inserted in their spine, or brainstem.” 

“Which explains why they kept getting up while the needle was still there.” Eyes gleaming with an edge of curiosity, Wing held his hand out, and he dropped the needle onto his palm, fingertips brushing against the other’s hand. He brought the needle close to his glasses, and his face fell bit by bit the more he inspected it. “Just how far would the Manipulator push them? Until they died?”

Kite could feel like lips curling down in disgust and disdain. “Probably.” Looking around at the three shadowy heaps scattered around the cavern as they made their way to the tunnels, a distant warning bell still went off in his ears in tandem with the rush of blood, hammering of his heart yet to settle. What had he missed? “What I don’t understand is, why attack us? To what end precisely?”

Even as he spoke the words, Kite knew he already had the answers, which had kept him vigilant from the moment he had stepped foot on the exam site and cast his gaze around to find other Nen users.

“-since you’re competing, they’ll either be after other Nen users to eliminate or team up with, only to turn against you when it serves them. Best to steer clear of it all.”

He could almost hear Ging’s voice laced with a smug grin, saying I told you so , and he would be right; Him and Wing being targeted could not be a coincidence, not an attempt to take away their vials of poison for the Manipulator, no, this had been deliberate and planned, and it meant they were still being watched.

“Somebody got the idea of thinning out the competition.” Kite said, unable to stop the quiet anger from bleeding into his voice. “And now that they failed, we should be even more careful.”

The thought of having to go the rest of the exam with a hidden adversary hidden behind defenceless, controlled puppets made the lean muscles in Kite’s arms jump, his fingers clenching and leaving crescent moons on his palms. He huddled closer to Wing, who seemed preoccupied with studying the needle still, the frown knitting his brows together an unfamiliar sight on his otherwise open face. 

Kite opened his mouth, perhaps to ask him what occupied him so, or anything to fill the silence which allowed his thoughts to wander with the if only’s and what if’s reaching up to choke him from the inside. But before he could even scramble for clumsy words, he caught a movement from the corner of his eye, and in a flash, applicant number 30 tackled Wing right out of Kite’s grasp, arm already outstretched to pull him back to no avail and fingers closing around empty air.

Letting out a yelp, Wing pushed him off, attempting to pull himself to his feet when his knee buckled, and the applicant took this opportunity to bring his arm down on the back of his head, knocking him to the ground and sending his glasses clattering away.

As if snapped out of a trance, Kite found himself diving forwards and clawing at the needle sticking out of the applicant’s neck, kicking him back when he collapsed like a sack of rocks with more force than needed, a distant pang of remorse pulling at his mind as he rolled across the uneven stone ground with more future sores and bruises than he cared to consider, not when Wing's motionless form laid by his feet.

He knelt, turning Wing on his back and letting out a relieved gasp when he looked up at Kite, blinking and holding a stiff arm out. 

“God, Wing- I’m so sorry I- I just froze up and-” Clasping at his shoulder, grip almost tightening to a painful degree, Wing pulled himself to standing with jerky movements. “I- are you okay?”

Wing’s head snapped up, gaze blank and glassy, and Kite only had mere seconds to wonder how eyes so warm in colour could look so cold before his world exploded into a bright pang of white-hot pain, vision fading to red then black and then grey before his back hit the ground. The sharp taste of copper coated Kite’s tongue, the scent of blood heavy and nauseating over his senses.

It had been a long while since someone had managed to punch him in the nose like that.

Catching a harsh kick in the stomach not only knocked the wind out of him but gave him another acrid taste of dofferent time, a life he wished buried and gone. Fighting against every renounced instinct that told him to curl up into a ball and take the hits, that putting up a resistance would only make it worse, Kite’s hold on his aura slipped, Ren flaring out into a barrier between him and the merciless onslaught of attacks. Wing stumbled back, hands clenched into fists held firm by his side, hair falling over the eyes that had frozen the blood in Kite’s veins.

“Wing- what-?” And the penny finally dropped with an earth shattering clang, the gleam of a needle clutched in a hand to come down on the back of Wing’s neck. Crimson wounds grinned open amidst Wing’s amber aura, and Kite’s heart skipped a beat with the realisation. 

Standing on shaky legs, He took a breath, two, and spat his blood out before leaping back with a cartwheel, once again freezing in place as his teammate, his friend , moved to attack him again and again, catching Kite at the side of the head before he could call out Wing’s name as if the word itself didn’t taste like betrayal.

Not really him , Kite repeated to himself as he staggered upright only to be hit again, arms coming up to shield against the attack a little too late. Not really Wing . 

And still, he pulled his punch before it landed, wincing back as his knuckles connected with Wing’s jaw. Using Kite’s hesitation, he rushed ahead and pushed him against the same stalagmite they had taken refuge behind what seemed like aeons ago, grabbing at his collar and pulling their faces close. For a short, hopeful second, Kite thought Wing had broken out of the Manipulator’s control, breathing slow and steady as he blinked a few times and his grip on Kite’s sweater went lax before the back of his skull hit the unforgiving surface of the rock behind him with the hollow ache of dull disappointment.

Ging had always found it curious how Kite, naturally drawn to avoiding physical conflict, had adapted to react quickly in battle so well, fighting without a hint of hesitation or pity. Because he had made those mistakes before, knew what price there would be to pay, and learned by having the lessons carved into his very being. Learned to strike down with hands not his own, to regard injuries as a problem for someone else, to not give in to the swimming vision and numb fingers. He learned to wrap his eyes in gossamer and steel and dress his chest with concrete, fall into the familiar song and dance of battle and leave the pain and the aches for later to deal with, but not at the crux of the battle, not where he wielded sharpened weapons of the soul with one purpose and become the same purpose that drove him to deal the final blow. 

And he would live, survive another battle by ripping himself apart at the seams and allowing the most selfish desires to push him forth, covering his sight and his heart, and that had been what won him a battle after another. Boxing up his fears and doubt and anything that could hinder him and leaving it for later, small souvenirs to choke on for when the blood was scrubbed clean and graves had been refilled into nameless mounds of earth. 

He only needed to withdraw into that state, close his eyes to who stood before him and instead strike down without mercy; all could be dealt with later after he had won .

But still, even as hands so soft snaked around his throat and pressed down, Kite couldn’t bring himself to strike back against Wing. 

Wing who smiled with his eyes closed and his whole heart, glowing as bright as the sun behind a haze of clouds.

Wing who kept a gentle hold on Kite’s arm as if handling a precious, fragile thing, a helping hand and a speck of light when despair flooded overwhelmed him.

Wing who made the unwritten promise to have Kite’s back and did, who promised to get them out and now his fingers tightened more with every bruised gasp of a breath he managed to steal, each setting his already burning lungs ablaze.

Black fogging up the edges of his vision, Kite gave up on trying to pry Wing’s hands away, losing himself in the sensation of drowning and allowing his eyes to fall shut, like saying goodbye to an old friend, familiar yet different at the same time. His fingers twitched, almost brushing against the chilled, porcelain surface of Crazy Slots with his consciousness slipping away. 

No , his hand clenched into a fist before the clown could be fully conjured. I can’t hurt him. And then, he laughed with a silent gasp of air, vision slowly going white. Not too much, at least . 

Kite rested his other hand against Wing’s cheek, a quiet apology before he brought his fist down on his face with as much force as he could muster, effectively loosening Wing’s vice grip from around his throat, sending him back stumbling. Taking a big gulp of air and choking on it, Kite fought against doubling over, instead reaching a hand back behind Wing’s head and grabbing a hold of the needle.

As soon as the sharp point of the needle left Wing’s skin, he collapsed, and Kite went down with him, clutching his slack body close as his heart sank, like he had just found out the very last step to not be there, his boot coming down on empty air and continuing to plunge into the unknown.

“I’ve got you, I got you-” His hoarse whisper burned all the way up his airways, choking out the words when something more than the imprint of hands pressed down on his throat seeing Wing’s head roll back, eyes half shut. “Wing? Can you hear me? I’m sorry, so sorry-”

Chest heaving, he almost let out a sob when Wing groaned something unintelligible, screwing his eyes shut and laying his head on Kite’s shoulder. WIthout thinking, Kite wrapped his arms around him, pulling Wing into a tight embrace so their hearts beat side by side, leaving no space between their battered bodies and wishing to draw him closer still, desperate hands clutching at each other’s jackets. 

Kite did not think to loosen his hold until Wing began wheezing his name, and he disengaged from the embrace with a strangled chuckle, nervous and rough and yet unable to stop it, shoulders shaking while Wing pushed himself to sit, cradling his head in his hands.

“What happened?” He mumbled, glassy-eyed and still out of it, and Kite forced himself to quiet down, biting the inside of his cheeks. “Where’re my glasses?”

“Oh! I heard them fall back-” Kite wobbled a bit as he straightened up, vision rippling and darkening for what seemed to stretch into infinite until he could see again, casting his gaze around for applicant number 30’s unconscious body, and then scrambled around in the vicinity until his shaking fingertips brushed against smooth glass. “Found them!”

Rushing back to Wing’s side, he held them out, worry growing at the pit of his stomach when the other reached for the glasses and missed, hand moving past Kite’s. Two more failed grabs and Kite took his hand, slowly guiding it to his glasses, and Wing let out another groan as he popped his glasses back on his face. Unclenching his left hand to rid himself of an itch, Kite found the needle still clutched between his fingers, the winged and elaborate pinhead leaving an impression on his palm. Gritting his teeth hard enough for an audible click , he pocketed the needle. The Nen-user could be tracked down and dealt with later, and for now, getting Wing out and to a medic remained his first priority, to make sure he wouldn’t suffer any lasting physical or cognitive damages. 

But by god if the idea of curb-stomping the bastard who had done this didn’t bring a certain sort of a beastial, tooth baring anticipation to his Ren.

“Wing?” Wiping the warm trickle of blood still dripping down his chin and feeling very far away from his own body, Kite placed a hand on Wing’s shoulder, giving him a slow shake until his head snapped up with a start. “We need to get out right now. Do you think you can walk?”

He looked up at Kite, silent for long enough that he assumed Wing hadn’t heard him before his head moved in a slow nod. Helping him up, Kite found that Wing very much could not stand properly, let alone walk, knees buckling under his weight and threatening to collapse him again. Letting out a sigh, he pulled Wing’s arm around his shoulder and made his way to one of the tunnels, too focused on any movements in his range of En to hear Wing mumbling his name again and again, but he did not miss the hand reaching for his around Wing’s midsection, and cracked a small smile, tilting his head so his cheek rested against the soft mess of black hair.

Navigating the cramped tunnels with the sole thought of getting Wing out , Kite did not loosen his hold on his teammate, his friend , not even when he finally began walking on his own, his arm remained draped around Kite’s shoulders like an anchor, a comforting weight reminding him that he was not alone.

When he spoke, quiet and timid, his fingers trembled against Kite’s hand, on the edge of pulling away. “It felt like I was dreaming, with someone in my head and-” Wing’s head jerked from side to side as if physically shaking the memories off and casting them away. “I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Squeezing Wing’s forearm, he cleared his throat, suppressing a wince at the gravely, tight feeling spreading through his whole chest as he spoke, the tang of blood still on his tongue. “No. Not on purpose.” 

With his head hanging low and not on Kite’s shoulder any longer, Wing made an unconvinced noise, the not-so-subtle side step giving him away, the eyes hidden away in shame, his voice barely coming out past the lump in his throat.

And so Kite leaned in close, whispering the words he had so desperately needed to hear, once upon a time, scraping his hands red and raw trying to wash them clean when all he had needed was: “I forgive you.”

What he didn’t say was you don’t need to dig out your chest trying to shed the suffocating feeling of guilt and forgiveness is a gift and a damnation in the same breath, and I'm handing it to you . 

In the spaces between the words left unsaid, Wing must have found what he searched for, relaxing and melting onto Kite’s side again. 

Content , he thought again. Quite content indeed

***

Sunlight streamed through the thin flesh of Kite’s hand, sneaking in through the delicate webbing of veins and sinew, and he basked in the light settling over him like a blanket, burrowed further in with a lungful of fresh, honey sweet air and felt laughter bubbling up from his bruised throat before he could fully take in the fact that they had made it out .

The empty space left behind when Wing’s arm slid off from around his shoulders weighed heavier, throwing him off-kilter as the duo made their way through the knee-high grass and tangle of wildflowers, away from the dark opening of the cave. Tilting his head back to take in the full expanse of the brilliant blue sky, Kite’s hand went to push his hat back and instead touched against his hair, a smaller pang of absence taking root between his shoulder blades. 

Wind ruffling his already messy hair, shielding his eyes with one hand and giving a lopsided smile, Wing turned to Kite before wincing, lips falling open with surprise. “Oh god, did I do that to you?”

He raised an eyebrow in question before a dull ache rippled under his eyes, and Kite touched his hand to the bridge of the nose, pressing down on the epicentre of pain. “Yes.” At the colour draining from Wing’s face, he cracked a grin, sending off flakes of dried blood flying. “You’re damn stronger than you look, I’ll give you that. Albeit, it would have been more fun if you weren’t being mind controlled.”

“Oh, shut it.” Sputtering, Wing gave him a gentle shove, or as gentle as he seemed to manage, still pushing a laughing Kite back several steps. Catching his bottom lip under his teeth, he reached out and tentatively touched Kite’s crooked, bruised nose. “I didn’t break it, did I?”

“No, that happened a long time ago.” His brows parted, forehead relaxing, and Kite’s eyes drew down to Wing’s reddened cheek, where his punch left a mark surely to darken, and the faint dusting of freckles dotting along his cheekbones up to the bridge of his nose. A crack running up the left lens caught the light at just the right angle, leaving a thin stream of magnificent colours over the constellations running across his skin. “You give yourself too much credit.”

At that, Wing rolled his eyes, dropping his hand with a quiet hiss and rolling his shoulder, discomfort barely concealed in the way he moved. Remembering how Nen had taken control of Wing’s body and used it to pummel Kite without any regard to what would become of the needled person twisted his quietly seething anger into a need to undo that damage, to heal the bruises away with a sweep of a thumb.

But nothing in life had ever come easy, especially forgiveness asked for in the beats of silence and rueful eyes batting eyelashes, and Kite laid a hand on Wing’s shoulder, directing him to sit on an ancient tree stump. Groaning as he straightened his legs, Wing added a few choice curse words in his mother tongue much to Kite’s amusement. 

He knelt by his side, retrieving a small tube of antiseptic cream and a few strips of gauze. The superficial injuries didn’t trouble him; With Wing being an enhancer, they would heal before he realised it, but still, he spared the time to take Wing’s hands in his, the same ones with their steely grasp around Kite’s throat and yet not the same ones at all, washing away the skinned knuckles and small cuts with more care than he thought himself capable of. 

When he moved to search in his bag for tape, he found Wing’s gaze trained on him, the warmth rising tenfold with the fond lines of his lips. He reached a newly bandaged hand out and brushed the shimmering white bangs away and out of Kite’s eyes. Frozen, he almost jumped out of his skin when Wing pressed a finger down on a sore spot above his eyebrow, suppressing a hiss.

“That one looks older.” Kite blinked and examined his forehead himself, the simple surface scrape he hadn’t given much thought to. “Did it- was it when the tunnel collapsed?” 

Giving a non-committal hum in lieu of an answer, Kite straightened up and rounded the stump, reaching out to examine Wing’s pained shoulder.

“Which one hurts? Right or left?” His fingers traced the bold, golden letters embroidered behind Wing’s maroon jacket reading ‘ Shingen-Ryu Academy’, the golden threads joining in to form the shape of a warrior in a fighting stance and expelling a ball of energy from their palm. A martial artist, possibly a professional one. Kite shook his head to himself, smiling. Of course.

Wing twisted his neck around as Kite helped him out of his jacket, lips pressed into a thin line. “Would you believe me if I said every atom of my body hurts right now?”

Pausing, Kite laid the folded jacket down beside his own abandoned coat, hand brushing over the needle with his fingers twitching and urging him to grab and crush it to nothing. “Well, your body was controlled and strung along against your will, the fact alone is cause for concern regarding dislocated joints and torn muscles or tendons.” He would have droned on if Wing hadn’t interrupted him with a laugh, hand fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I know it’s unpleasant and overwhelming at the moment, but I need you to point out where the pain is more alarming.”

“I’ve had pain flare-ups worse than this. You don’t have to look so worried.” Quieting down, Wing shrugged his right shoulder up, giving Kite an almost playful look as he began manoeuvring his arm in circles, a careful hand remaining on Wing’s shoulder to control the movement. Not dislocated then, but most definitely strained and sore. “You have really kind eyes. I hadn’t noticed until now, seeing you without your hat, I thought you were frowning all the time but…your eyes are beautif-” 

A mild jerk and Wing yelped, attempting to pull his arm out of Kite’s grasp. Heart beating loud in his ears and without a hat to shadow the heat rising to his face, Kite held a firm hold on Wing’s arm, pulling it straight back again until he began flailing and swearing.

“Does that hurt?” The scorned look he received over the shoulder sufficed as an answer enough, and so he folded Wing’s arm at the elbow over his chest. “It’s a sprain. You’ll have to refrain from moving your arm too much. Keep it like that for a minute.”

Keeping his gaze glued to his boots as he unwrapped the deep blue sash around his waist, he tried to recall if anyone had called his eyes kind before, let alone beautiful, and came up empty-handed. Wing’s tone of voice as he had rambled on bordered on awe of divinity, and Kite wanted to steal the words away from him before they could fly out and attach themselves to his being, names he did not deserve nor want- or did he?

“Uh- What are you doing?” One arm still bent at the elbow, Wing cleared his throat and looked down at the long strip of fabric coming off from around Kite’s waist with a small chuckle, face flushing crimson. Kite raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Wing to hold his arm out a little. 

Wrapping the fabric around Wing’s bicep a few times and then securing his shoulder by tying the sash into a bow over his other shoulder, Kite stepped back, making a satisfied hum at the makeshift sling. “Comfortable?”

One hand on his knee, Wing stood up, nodding as he smoothed his shirt down. “Probably should’ve taken off my binder but-” He looked up at Kite, stepping startlingly close. “Thank you.”

Kite’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch in his chest, and he took a reluctant step back. “No problem. I did receive first aid training for a reason-” 

“Not just for this!” Stammering, Wing pulled a hand through his hair, averting his gaze. “I- you went out of your way to help me when you didn’t have to and let’s be honest, I really wouldn’t have made it out of those caves if it weren’t for you being there.”

A beat of silence, two, three, and Wing looked as if he wished to disintegrate and be swept away by the warm touch of the breeze, or maybe Kite simply saw his own desires reflected back, feeling impossibly small and violently seen at the same time, skin almost ill-fitting on his being as he struggled to let out a scratchy laugh, mouth gone dry.

“Funny.” His cracked lips pulled into a smile, alerting him to the dried blood still staining his face. “I was going to say the same thing.”

“Oh.” A soft chuckle, and he smiled with his eyes again. Kite’s heart did the same thing once more, a sudden jolt as if someone reached in through the ribs and squeezed his heart, leaving bruised handprints behind in the shape of a wish. “We make a good team then, don’t you think?”

Like many other instances, Kite found himself at a loss to what he could say in return to something so painfully… honest . “Right.”

Stealing his eyes away, Kite pulled out a strip of gauze, scrubbing the caked blood under his nose away. He almost startled back when Wing laid a hand on his, taking the gauze and stepping closer.

“Let me-” 

He began cleaning the dried blood off with care, the way one would with something breakable and precious, barely a whisper of a touch, and Kite allowed his eyes to fall shut, head tilting towards Wing’s palm and hearing his breath hitch.

Like molten light, Wing’s fingers spread alongside Kite’s face, and he tried very hard to remember the last time he had been touched without the intention to hurt. His thumb swept across the sharp jut of Kite’s cheekbone, and he found it difficult to remember pain at all. Laying his hand on top of Wing's, Kite basked in the gentle flow of his Nen, a steady stream singing of of trust, and only hoped to let him know you can trust me too without as many words, just a quiet promise between him and himself, the tears stinging at the corner of his eyes.

The air around them buzzed with anticipation for something , building up to a moment too big to fit in their chests, but just as he sensed Wing wanting to speak, another voice rang out, and Kite's eyes jolted open to find himself centimetres away from Wing, the dark expanse of his irises endless.

"Made it in the eleventh hour, I see." With a hand propped on her hip, Gel regarded them as Kite stumbled back, breath catching in his throat. His hand went to rest where he could still feel Wing’s touch on his face, skin both cold and searing hot, raw and tender.  "A couple of minutes late and you would've been disqualified."

Oh. Oh . Kite checked his watch, heart dropping, and mentally slapped himself. Focus . "Good lord, just in the nick of time-"

"I can't believe I actually forgot why we were there-" Letting out a short laugh, Wing laid a hand on Kite's arm, and he firmly avoided meeting the other's gaze. "Or that only five hours passed. Felt like a lifetime, right?" Kite nodded, making a small noise of affirmation. Time had stretched and warped in impossible ways, passing by with a blink and yet, looking back, they had spent so long in the dark with only each other as the proof of anything existing past the jagged stone walls.

Taking a look at Wing hobbling to his jacket from the corner of his eye, the beacon, the light at the end of the tunnel, he thought what a suffocating curse solitude would be after knowing company, a helping hand just an arm’s length away.

Gel gave them a little smile before holding out her hand, tilting her head to the side. "I do hope you didn't forget the objective. It would be a shame to disqualify you two."

"What?" Kite stammered out before remembering the little glass vial in his bag, the reason behind that whole ordeal. "Right! The poison-"

“Congratulations, you’ve passed the second phase.” With two vials dropped on top of Gel’s upturned palm, she turned on her heels with a sweep of dark hair, gesturing for them to follow. She took a glance at Wing over her shoulder, having retrieved a folding cane from his bag. “There are medics standing by, if you need one checking you over.”

Tying his jacket around his waist and leaning on the cane, Wing’s head snapped up, flashing a bashful smile. “Oh! I’m alright, actually. Did an applicant named Asta make it out? I forgot her-”

“The hell you are.” Kite snapped and cut him off, leaning down to Wing’s height and softening his voice at the hint of apprehension in his face. “Wing, we don’t know the long-term effects of being Manipulated by Nen. It’s best you get checked out now and not risk exasperating whatever injury you may have sustained later on in the exam.” 

Wing sighed after a long moment of silence, and gave Kite a nod. “Alright. You too, by the way-”

“Ms. Gel?” Cutting him off and clearing his throat, he called out to the proctor, slowing down. “There are 3 applicants still in the cave system, likely in need of medical assistance. I could roughly point to where they may be, but we must be quick.”

She hummed in affirmation, nodding. “I’ll send for them when I get you to the rest of the applicants.”

“Thank you.” Kite breathed a sigh of relief, and held onto the hope that they would be okay. No one deserved to die like that, alone in an underground pit in pursuit of a dream. He caught Wing staring at him from the corner of his eye. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Looking away, Wing gave him a small smile with a mischievous edge. “I just seem to have misread you.”

He snorted, bumping his shoulder against Wing’s as he chuckled. The sun reflected off his inky black hair, and before he knew to stop himself, Kite reached a hand out to ruffle his hair and then froze in terror, flinching back. 

“You had something in your hair.” Grumbling, he shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets, shoulders tensing up when Wing gave him a bewildered look. 

“Don’t tell me it was a spiderweb or something.” He made a face while shaking his head, swatting at his hair. Kite shook his head.

“No, it was just a spider.” That earned him a friendly swat to the arm, and Kite failed to conceal his laugh with a cough at Wing’s visible disgust, making scuttling motions along his back with his hands until he finally drew out the sweet, warm sound of Wing’s laughter, dancing in the breeze with the poppies and wild bluebells. 

With her back to them, Gel rolled her eyes and then smiled to herself as the other two laughed behind her, arms looped together without them even taking notice and basking in their small victory.

What was that saying? Nothing brings people together like a mutual struggle for survival ?

It had proved itself true time after time, after all.

***

Tall, almost waist-high grass stretched out as far as the eye could see, a rippling green ocean only disturbed by the train tracks cutting through, and the silhouettes of the scattered applicants poking above the curling green stems. 

Kite’s hand again went to where the rim of his hat would sit and only found empty space, instead opting to prop up his coat collar against the unkind looks from the other applicants. Wing kept in step, casting a nonchalant gaze around, either unperturbed or very apt at hiding it. 

“Do you see Asta?”

Kite surveyed the crowd for a ginger head of hair, shaking his head no and biting the inside of his cheeks, sensitive with the recent spike in stress. He spotted a familiar maroon aura, and his lips pulled back into a snarl upon seeing the blase young man playing on his phone, adorned with the same bat wing shapes as the needle in Kite’s pocket. His hand went to his trusty katana and then, Nen bloomed under his palm. It would only be right to give the blond man a taste of his Crazy Slots, repay the favour in a way.

“Hm.” Wing said, adjusting his glasses and raising a brow. His voice broke Kite out of his violent daydream.  “How many people is that? A hundred?” 

“Looks to be even less.” Searching the crowd for a medic to call over, his eyes paused on a row of gurneys laid down on the grass, all covered with white sheets fluttering in the wind and making it obvious how the bodies under them weren’t. Kite let out a muffled gasp at the grim sight, gritting his teeth to quiet himself.

He had seen death, hell, he had brushed up against it too many times to be startled by it now of all times, but the sheer magnitude of the number of lives lost gave him pause in the face of the future challenges. The chill creeping up his spine felt too much like laying down on the damp, uneven floor of the caves. Stepping closer, he found familiar shapes under the sheets; a too-tall body with long, silvery hair; a red jacket peeking out from the corner, cold fingers clutching a pair of cracked glasses.

“What’s wrong-” Laying a hand between his shoulder blades, Wing startled Kite into blinking, and the false image disappeared, only leaving the faceless corpses, all having met their end too soon. “Oh god.” 

His arm wrapped around Kite’s stiff shoulder, attempting to steer him away, but his leaden legs stayed firmly rooted to the ground, eyes fixed on the shock of green, a little parrot sitting beside one of the bodies, almost tucked under their arm, head bowed in mourning.

Kite had never even learned that applicant’s name, but to connect the memory of the strong, confident woman with an empty husk left in a field made his head spin, and yet every lungful of air tasted sweeter than the last, the tip of the grass tickling against his palm like the soft embrace of earth.

Hand coming up to clasp at Wing’s, selfishly indifferent to the implications, he felt the other give his hand a squeeze, a silent reassurance. 

We made it.

And in the long run, that was the only thing that mattered , Kite reminded himself, to keep pushing ahead no matter what he would face, and one day he would become strong enough to have nothing to fear any longer, that danger became a distant memory of racing hearts and cold fingertips.

That day could not come soon enough.

Turning his back against the bodies after paying his respects silently, he heard Wing let out a shaky breath and a shiver. 

“I- do you-” He choked out, voice strangled and raw, white-knuckled grip on the cane tightening. “Do you think Asta-?”

Kite’s mouth opened and closed with no sounds coming out, failing to grasp at the comforting phrases Wing handed out with ease, struggling to pretend as if he didn’t feel like a bucket of freezing water had been thrown over his head. Instead he settled for squeezing Wing’s hand again, saying hope is a cruel thing and there will always be goodbyes left unsaid, just out of reach . The heavy grief in his aura twisted Kite’s as well, bringing stinging tears to the corner of his eyes.

“I- even if she-” He sighed, shaking his head as Wing looked up with watery eyes, settling for half-lies and not the harsh she knew what she was getting herself to, no use mourning the unafraid , bitter denial bubbling up in his throat with every part of him shouting that’s not fair, not fair not - “-then she would have gone out doing what she liked best, probably swinging her axe and swearing up a storm.” 

A wet, humourless laugh, and Wing moved his head to rest it on Kite’s shoulder. “I’m sure Asta gave whoever it was hell.”

“You bet I did, four-eyes.” 

Both jolting away at the familiar, sharp tilt of a voice and a tuft of orange hair poking out from over the grass, Kite’s knees went weak with relief and something akin to annoyance when the owner of the voice all but tackled the two of them, his muffled groan of “watch out for Wing’s shoulder” getting drowned out by a bout of delighted laughter, and then giving in and bending down to fully return Asta’s hug as her arms wrapped around each of them.

When she finally let her hold on Kite loosen, he stepped back and looked her over, looking a bit worse for wear with a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing too severe, quite a fair bit less dishevelled than the duo. She slapped Wing on the back and pulled away, giving Kite a toothy grin and a pointless kick in the shin he dodged with ease.

“Now what was that about me and giving someone hell?”

Kite and Wing exchanged a pointed look, both coming to the simultaneous conclusion of keeping their mouths shut unless they wanted to remain the subject of Asta’s ridicule for the rest of the exam. Instead, Wing made a vague gesture at Asta with a nervous chuckle.

“We were just worried, after the cave collapsed, and uh, happy to see you passed too!”

Twirling her axe, Asta raised a brow, still grinning. “As if I wouldn’t. Honestly I’m more surprised seeing you losers made it out.” An exaggerated wink softened the jab. “How did you end up looking like you just got out of a bar brawl, anyways?” 

Another look exchanged, and Kite sighed, shaking his head and forcing his most serious and nonchalant expression on. “Long story. Spiders with boxing gloves and all that.”

Asta snorted, but her smile dropped little by little when Kite and Wing didn’t join in, eyes widening. “No way.” Glancing between Kite, expressionless, and Wing, staring off into the far distance and firmly avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes, her eyebrows almost shot up to her hairline. “You’ve gotta be pulling my leg, right?”

“Does he look like he jokes ?” Wing choked out, face almost purple with how hard he tried to hold his laughter in. 

“I do not.” He affirmed, solemn, and watched Asta continuing to sputter and pester Wing until he finally cracked, bending at the stomach and wheezing.

The familiar rumbling of train tracks and a vivid blue dot began growing far on the horizon. Asta finally gave up throwing friendly kicks at them and turned towards the train, grinning and throwing her arms up.

“That’ll be our ride to the next phase!” She continued with a small frown. “Or the location of it, who knows.”

“Now who’s pulling our leg?” Came from behind Kite as he made his way to the approaching train, the grass rippling and bowing by the tracks. Birds took off in the wake of the train, black spots on the otherwise unmarred blue expanse of the sky before vanishing into the horizon, swallowed up by the unknown spread out past what the eyes could see, what the minds could fathom.

The exhausted applicants began boarding the train as soon as the doors slid open, their chatter and ruckus audible even from several metres away. Kite offered a hand to Wing and helped him up the running board and onto the cabin, receiving a quiet thanks and a small smile. 

Before turning to follow Wing through the cabin, he ran a hand over his warm face, feeling his own lips to have quirked up in a smile. Wing’s natural gentleness seemed to be rubbing off on him, bringing out softer words and a sort of peace in his presence. But not enough for him to stop grumbling at Asta when she bumped into him on purpose, causing him to slam onto another applicant.

With the seats quickly filling up, Wing made his way through the corridor with a stiff gait, hand grabbing onto the headrests for support despite leaning heavily against the cane. He all but collapsed on the first free seat, leaning his head against the window and massaging his left knee with knotted brows, pain carving a vulnerable yet stony shadow over his features. Kite took the seat beside him, leg bouncing in worry.

“Are you alright?” Nodding before he even reached the end of the sentence, Wing rummaged through his bag and pulled out a blue pillbox, dropping 4 different tablets onto his palm with shaking hands. Kite handed him his flask without a word, his curious raise of a brow going unnoticed as Wing threw his head back and washed the pills down. “This is why you should’ve seen a medic!”

Holding his hand up as he took another gulp of water, Wing wiped his mouth and shook his head, still frowning. “I just need some rest and I’ll be alright. And you already looked me over, didn’t you? Really, you’re as good as a medic.” He laid his bad knee out with a groan. Kite scowled, scooting closer. 

“If I’m as good a medic, then let me examine your leg.”

Wing tilted his head to one side, almost as if attempting to see Kite’s thoughts more clearly, to see how far he would push. Without words, he began rolling up the washed out pantleg up to his knee, revealing a long, faded surgery scar stretching down to the top of his shin. He gave Kite a small, but hollow smile. 

“It’s an old injury. Nothing you need to be fussing over.” 

Making a tch noise, Kite stole his gaze from Wing as he pulled the pantleg back down and propped his leg on the opposite seats. That explained the fold up cane, and how Wing generally favoured his left leg. “I don’t fuss , I’m just worried if this will hinder your ability to perform in the rest of the exam.”

“Well, I should’ve properly thought that through before I applied. Too late to have regrets now.” Wing leaned back, scrubbing his eyes under the glasses, something beside exhaustion weighing down his answer, a bitter and rueful secret. Opening his eyes, he startled Kite by a nudge to the side. “And you absolutely do fuss. Maybe just for me? Do i have some special getting fussed over privileges?”

“Shut up.” Sinking lower in his seat until his knees bumped against the opposite seats, Kite attempted to glare up at Wing, and absolutely did not pout . “Where’s Asta, anyways? She would love this.”

“Wasn’t she behind you when we were boarding?”

“I-” She had been, yes, but Kite had lost track of her while… fussing over Wing. “I’m sure she will descend upon us again when we least expect it.” 

Wing’s easy laughter rang like music in Kite’s ears, and if sounds had colours his would shine a brilliant gold, just a touch shy of blinding and lighting up the whole room. Kite sank even lower in his seat, burying his face in the collar of his jumper.

The train began moving, hesitant at first before speeding up, the squeaking of the rails oscillating between screeching noises to low rumblings vibrating down to the bones. Movements like a cradle, Kite’s limbs weighed him down with the exhaustion of three sleepless nights, overdue slumber coming back full force and demanding a refund.

As he shifted his legs to prop them over the opposite seat and into a more comfortable position, a hand clutched the headrest, a familiar round face beside it. 

“Is this seat taken?” Tonpa asked, smile just slightly on the edge with Kite glaring at him. Before Wing could open his mouth and possibly invite the nerve-grating rookie crusher, he swung his legs over the seat.

“Keep moving.” Tonpa’s smile fell, replaced with a definite look of annoyance. Kite made a point of propping his katana by his seat. “You heard me. Go along now.”

With Tonpa grumbling and disappearing down the corridor, Kite relaxed his shoulders, letting out a sigh.

“Alright, you really show it when you don’t like someone. That’s good to know.” At Kite’s sidelong glance, Wing let out a quiet chuckle, adjusting his glasses that now sat crooked. “I was wondering if you deep down didn’t like me and just didn’t show it. The jury’s still out, but if I really got on your nerves, you’d let me know.”

“I like you.” Kite blurted out without thinking, Wing’s face going slack with a mix of surprise and disbelief before morphing into a pure expression of joy, a free grin and rosy cheeks. 

Wishing he could melt into a small puddle and be absorbed into the seat, Kite jumped at a soft pat on the shoulder, kicking his legs out and drawing glares from the other applicants.

“I like you too, Kaito.”

An overwhelming surge of warmth, too nebulous to fit in his heart, and he wanted to crack his ribcage open, claw it all out to breathe again and take in as much of the simple 5 words as he could, hoard the sounds and vibrations and keep it all to himself, trapped under a padlock and prison bars.

Kite’s calloused palms pressed over his eyes, afraid to see too much, scared of not seeing enough. He hid his crooked smile under a selfish touch and wiped it away, settling back into his own face, the cracked mask with a smooch porcelain expanse. 

He could practically hear Wing trying to pick his thoughts out, testing words out before putting them down, all uncertainty and anticipation. Before he could piece what he wanted to say together, Asta bolted down the corridor with an armful of…snacks?

“Get your legs outta the way, lanky bastard.” Reluctantly shifting his legs after a few kicks, Kite raised an eyebrow in question as Asta dumped the ungodly amount of snacks on the unoccupied seats and squeezed herself beside them, a victorious grin on her face as she leaned closer.

“Just two kicks at the vending machine and I hit jackpot!” Her voice rose with excitement, and Kite snorted. “This is my apology for setting off the little bombs in the tunnels. Met the guy who made them though! Pretty swell dude.” She waved over their heads, cupping one hand around her mouth. “Oi, Manheim! If you wanna come over and meet these dorks it’s alright!”

Kite followed her gaze to a big-statured yet timid-looking man who seemed rather content squeezed next to a window seat at the end of the wagon. Beside Kite, Wing shifted his bad leg and reached for the mountain of snacks. He grabbed a packet of crisps and then went for a sandwich-

In a flash, she turned to bat at Wing’s hand. “I called dibs on the ham and cheese!”

"Alright, alright!" Having gotten hold of a sandwich, one Asta wouldn’t be willing to raise hell over, Wing let out a sigh almost in a reverie. “Asta, I owe you my life.” 

The hollow of Kite’s stomach let out a low, disinterested rumble, alerting him that yes, it had been nearly a full day since his last meal. His former life had effectively killed a number of basic human needs within him, hunger and thirst and pain becoming nothing but abstract signals to keep going , even if his vision swam and his hands trembled, even when he collapsed and felt as if there was no point in getting back up. The instincts had been weaponized to allow him to survive in a world that never had a place for him and now? Nothing but a nuisance when he forgot to eat and his legs buckled upon standing up, only because he hadn’t felt hungry.

Yet upon acknowledging it, the edge of hunger twisted in his stomach, sending a sharp pang of pain through his chest as he made a vague gesture to the snacks. “Anything vegetarian?”

Asta rummaged around for a brief moment before holding up a sandwich. “Egg sandwich, coming your way!” 

Catching it before it hit him on his bruised nose, Kite shot her a glare, eyes widening when she picked up a soda can with a wicked smile.

“Asta, do not throw that at-” 

The can hit the seat behind Kite with a thump as he ducked down, and soon the three broke into muffled gigglings, oblivious to the annoyed glances from the other applicants. With a less than ideal number of soda cans thrown, and only one hitting the mark, he finally relaxed his tense body, lounging back and enjoying a meal with his friends .

Even the word baffled him still, the concept new and shiny and unknown with a lot to be learned, so much making up to do for things he had missed out on.

The train rolled on across the tracks, cradling the passengers, and the mountain of snacks reduced to nothing but the salt and vinegar crisps no one but Kite would eat, pushed to the side to make room for Asta sprawled across the opposite seats and snoring. Wing pressed against his side, head on his shoulder and breathing quietly, his hand gripping Kite’s in sleep and he made no move to remove it, instead lacing their fingers together and looking out the window over Wing’s head, at the golden smears dancing by, sunflowers bowing with the breeze as if waving goodbye. 

The sea of sunflowers stretched all the way to the horizon, gold and golden and endless as if nothing else had existed past these flowers, green fields a forgotten memory and the imagination stopping at the edge of the unknown, a void of maybe s and blurry guesswork. 

Nothing past the horizon was concrete, no path set in stone. He could reach out with his weary hands, push the possibilities around with clumsy fingers and mould his own future from his own blood, sweat and tears.

Birds like black blots against the sky soared high, seeking something beyond imagination, beyond the horizon.

And the train rolled on.