SOUR CANDY | killua z. ✔

39 | trick

tw: some description of injury, memory loss

YORKNEW CITY

SOMETHING WAS scratching Sen's cheek.

When she finally managed to pry her eyes open, the bright sky made her squeeze them shut. Sen tried again, this time averting her eyes to the side. Better.

The concrete beneath her head was damp and dirty. A tiny gray paw came into view, and her cheek was scratched again.

"Mew."

Sen sat up and instantly regretted it.

She cried out as pain lanced through her body. Something jackhammered against her skull. Her limbs trembled and ached. 

She could move just enough to haphazardly prop herself against a brick wall. 

Her hair, stringy and limp, was falling out of a braided style. She laboriously reached up to touch it, her whole arm shaking with the effort. The style wasn't one she recognized.

Sen frowned as things slowly began registering in her brain.

The kitten jumping into her lap. The alleyway she was in, flanked by imposing brick buildings. Rotting garbage to her left. 

The yawning gap in her memory.

Sen felt her chest tightening and gave her forehead a good smack. 

No, Sen. You will not have one of your fits right now. No.

She stroked the tiny animal, hoping it would ground her enough to get her bearings together. Kotaro let her leave the island unsupervised because he trusted her to handle herself. And Sen would. She refused to disappoint him.

First things first. Where the fuck was she?

Dizzily, her mind supplied her with the name. Yorknew. That's right, Sen was in Yorknew. 

The last thing she remembered was Gon cooking dumplings. She'd left the hotel room to check... something. She couldn't remember what. 

The sky was dark then. It was obviously daytime now.

A gut feeling told her that didn't happen last night. No, she had an odd sense that happened a while ago.

Did Sen hit her head? She couldn't feel any bumps or blood, no sore spots.

No matter how many times she re-arranged the pieces, nothing was forming a coherent picture.

Her pains. The foreign braids in her hair. Even her damn clothes.

Expensive turtleneck, expensive clingy jeans, expensive dainty ankle boots. The outfit was cute, but that wasn't enough for her to ignore the fact that these weren't her clothes. 

What the fuck. What the fuck.

She slapped a hand over her face, assaulted with fuzzy images of events she couldn't place. The stretch of time from when she last saw her friends to now expanded with each second. 

What happened?

Sen's brain gleefully informed her of how she was left sprawled like some cliché murder victim. Or a doll.

The kitten's soft mewing was the only thing keeping her from screaming and slamming her head into the wall.

Sen needed answers. Now.