ズﾉﾚﾚひムの刀
͓̽F͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽t͓̽a͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽K͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽G͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓̽
Killua has died once already.
In every history book, there's a chapter of the infamous Killua Zoldyck: The face of the cover is blurry, as if the artist was unsure...
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8,000 words.
"Val sharas!"
The spell quickly takes form, words turning to lighting, skin crackling with energy and scintillating runes radiating bright in unison, swirling in the air above him. Faster than the blink of an eye, he takes flight with a powerful kick of his leather boots, landing behind Hisoka and flipping his dagger from his sheathe. Energy pools into his palms, blasting a blinding explosion towards Hisoka's face, but the sinister archmage dodges, grabbing hold of Killua's cloak and slamming him into the hard ground.
"Killua!" Gon cries out, his blood turning cold.
But Killua doesn't relent, grabbing stray pebbles that gathered from the impact and throwing them with more power than an arrow shot by an expert marksman. His midnight cloak flows like a ribbon dance as he flips to his feet.
Hisoka evades with ease, a grin still plastering wrinkles around his lips, but it briskly falters upon seeing the snowy-haired archmage tapping into his mana reserves and his body lighting aflame, heat sweltering and moving in waves.
The jester leaps back, defensively casting a rosy shield around him and raising his hands to indicate surrender. "Now, now, I'm just here to talk." And all the while, Gon's heart racing with worry and with his feet rooted in shell shock, the amateur magnus cannot help but feel an overwhelming sense of admiration, nerves tingling with awe upon watching the masterful exchange between the two archmages. Though brief, never before has Gon seen anything like this: instinctual and calculated and risky.
"Bastard, you were working with him!" Killua shouts in a strained voice, fists clenching and jaw setting. "You knew all along!"
"As did your brother. This is your last time being summoned, hm? Be sure to give him my regards."
Last time?
Gon shifts his gaze towards his familiar for some sort of explanation, but... Killua doesn't look at all surprised at this information.
No, Killua knew.
A feeling of guilt pinches Gon's nerves.
Gon shakes his head and redirects his glare back towards the, surprisingly patient, jester. He wants to talk? Fine, but Gon has some questions he wants answered first. "How have you lived this long?"
Hisoka's lips curl in a fickle grin. He outstretches an inducing hand. "I'll let you in on my secret, if you tell me where Kurapika is."
Kurapika... Why Kurapika? And how does Hisoka know his name?
His friend's words in the measter's hut echo in his mind. 'That monster is dead.'
