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Killua is in the dark, but it’s fine. He’s used to it. He’s been locked in rooms like this to train his night vision tons of times before. It doesn’t scare him, not a bit. …Doesn’t mean it doesn’t get lonely, though.
Milluki left for a break a couple of hours ago, extinguishing the lights behind him. Bastard. Just the kind of snotty little dig that he’d make. Well, whatever. Killua’s been trying to use the time productively, wavering between the harsh chill of the gloomy torture chamber in reality, and the warm embrace of sleep. It’s a different kind of dark, an endless void that cradles him gently—
Click, click
Click, click
Killua stirs, slowly pulling enough of himself together to figure out what’s going on. If Milluki’s returned, he’ll just force himself back down into the void, somewhere Milluki can’t chase him.
Something cold and metallic touches Killua’s face briefly, and he rouses himself to waking, pushing his eyes open. Standing hesitantly before him, a metal beverage flask in hand, is his baby brother, Kalluto.
”What are you doing here?” Killua’s throat is scratchy and hoarse from the hours spent away from water and from laughing in Milluki’s stupid face, but he manages to force the words out.
“I managed to slip away. Mother’s busy; I don’t think she’ll notice I’m gone for a little while.” Kalluto fidgets. “I wanted to see you,” he whispers, his words so quiet that the chamber nearly swallows them.
Killua squints at him, scrutinizing that doll-like face. Admittedly, he’s not quite sure what he’s looking for; cracks in the proverbial armor, perhaps? Some sort of tell of deception? Kalluto and Illumi are cut from the same cloth as far as their excellent poker faces go, so it’s not like it’s an easy task, anyway.
The two of them had never been very close. By the time Kalluto was old enough to play with, Killua had already begun his assassin training. And by the time he was back from Heaven’s Arena, the bulk of his basic training complete, Kalluto was firmly settled under their mother’s wing. Perhaps because he was her baby, and she resented not being able to coddle her last one. Killua was expected to do specialized training and accompany Big Brother Illumi on jobs, while Kalluto was starting his own basic training. There wasn’t very much time available to bond like normal brothers probably did.
His knowledge of his younger brother was admittedly surface-level; if it was Milluki or Illumi here, it would be easier to deduce what they wanted. They were easier to read than they thought, for all of their training. But Kalluto—his parents’ special pet, the most biddable child—well, he was considerably more difficult to figure out. A true enigma, like Kurapika would say. (Shit, don’t think about him right now. Don’t think about them, focus, Killua. Focus.)
Why was Kalluto here, then? It was probably water in that flask, if he had to guess. It couldn’t be poisoned; that would be a huge waste of time on Kalluto’s part. They’d all gone through the same poison training. What, then? A favor? Information? Was this a ploy on his parents’ part to test his loyalty to the family cause? Well, whatever. They could try anything they wanted, but Killua would be one step ahead of them. As long as he knew it was a trap, he could think of either a way out of the situation, or a way to turn the whole thing to his advantage. Shit, he sounded like Illumi.
“I brought water,” Kalluto whispers, breaking the uneasy silence. “I thought that you would be thirsty.” There’s something that flashes in his eyes that Killua can’t name, but it reminds him of Leorio. And maybe that’s why Killua accepts.
He nods slowly, muscles screaming with fatigue. “Okay,” he rasps, breaking into a brief coughing fit as his dry throat rebels.
Kalluto lifts the flask to Killua’s cracked lips, and he eagerly drinks. His first urge is to gulp the water down, but he remembers his survival training and sips carefully. The water is so blissfully soothing to his dry throat, washing away the aching pain. Killua drinks the flask dry, savoring the water to the last drop. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to drink next, after all. The sigh that slips from his mouth is equal parts relief and disappointment.
Before he can collect himself to decide how he’ll proceed, Kalluto beats him to the punch. “Killua?” he whispers cautiously. His hands tremble faintly around the flask. “What was it like?” His voice is hushed and taut, as though he’s scared to ask. But those enormous violet eyes—inherited straight from Grandma Zoldyck—are wide with curiosity.
“What was what like?” Killua coughs a few times, but his voice is sounding more normal now. Good.
“The Hunter Exam.”
Killua’s torn. It’s exactly the kind of information his parents would try to pry out of him—where did you go, who did you meet, how many people did you kill for free—to base a lecture around. Even if he doesn’t reveal his family name when he’s outside the estate, he’s ‘still a representative.’ Best behavior at all times, keep your skills sharp, don’t become an embarrassment to yourself or the family. The odds are pretty good that his little brother’s been sent here as a mole, digging up whatever dirt he can find to report back to their parents.
But.
There’s a light in Kalluto’s eyes that he’s never seen before. Admittedly, Killua’s never looked too closely. Maybe…it’s always been there. Kalluto’s looking at him the way that Leorio and Kurapika sometimes look at him and Gon. Killua feels…kind of safe, somehow.
His body makes the decision for him, in the end. Before he can even really process it, his mouth opens, and the words come tumbling out.
“Well, the very beginning was pretty boring. It was supposed to be so hard to find the meeting place, but—”
So he talks.
Kalluto’s eyes are even wider as Killua paints a picture of the sea of people crowded into the tunnel, heroes and villains and everyone in between. In a split second Killua wonders what to do about mentioning his…his friends. Assassins ‘aren’t supposed to have friends,’ after all, and just the briefest mention of them might spell trouble later on. But Illumi already knows about them, and Kalluto would probably find out about them from him during his typical post-mission debrief. Might as well, I guess.
He talks of the three of them: of Kurapika, Leorio, and Gon. Not too impressive at the start; certainly no match for a Zoldyck. But as the tunnel gave way to a forest, then a villa, then a tower, then an island…well, things changed. They were a bit more impressive than he’d thought: Kurapika’s brilliance, Leorio’s passion, and Gon’s determination. Or maybe…maybe they didn’t change at all. Maybe he was the one who changed.
As Killua describes them, Kalluto is riveted to the spot: not so much as a muscle twitching, face a careful blank slate. But his eyes grab Killua’s attention. There’s something bitter there—jealousy?—that’s gone as soon as it’s come. It gives Killua pause. Is he jealous of them? Or maybe…of me? He briefly turns the thought around in his mind, examining it from all angles.
And with a delicacy he never thought himself capable of, he carefully guides the narrative along past his friends, delving back into the action of the challenges set before them. Has he ever done something like that before?
Kalluto’s an enthusiastic listener: nodding along, gasping when appropriate, sometimes shyly whispering a question. And not once does his attention waver from Killua. He might have found it creepy once, but it’s kind of nice, in a way.
As he nears the end, Killua debates how to discuss the way things ended. It’s embarrassing that he didn’t ace the exam, especially after making it into as big a deal as he did when he left home. It’s the first time he’s ever failed at something, and he’s still wrestling with what it all means. As much as he wants to save his pride, there’s no point; again, there’s no chance that Illumi won’t tell everyone. Another point on the tallyboard; Illumi’s right, Killua’s wrong, chalk it all up to wisdom and experience.
But Kalluto unexpectedly saves him from it, to Killua’s surprise. “So you were okay,” Kalluto murmurs so quietly that Killua can barely hear him. “I’m relieved that you made it back from the exam in one piece. I was worried.” His hand makes a brief, fluttering gesture towards Killua’s shoulder, touch light as feathers, before it’s sharply pulled back into his sleeve. Kalluto looks a little surprised, like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, either.
Is he…trying to give me a pat on the shoulder?
And for once, Killua is so dumbfounded that he doesn’t know what to say. Not like he’s ever had trouble making a sarcastic quip in the heat of the moment. Aside from his mother’s overbearing embraces and kisses and his grandfather’s occasional pats on the head, Killua’s not used to displays of affection.
To be honest, he didn’t think that Kalluto cared about him in the first place.
(Maybe the exam wasn’t the only thing he’s ever failed at.)
“What about your friends?” Kalluto asks, drawing Killua’s attention back from his scattered musings. “Did they—?” He trails off delicately, leaving his sentence unfinished in a deliberate fashion that reminds Killua of Grandma. Getting the point across but allowing me to answer it as I please. That’s…that's thoughtful of him.
“We had to part ways after the exam.” He could find out if they passed—Illumi would know—but he’s hesitant to do so. He’s glad for them, he really is, but it would feel too much like rubbing his failure in his face. Why did I have to take the exam the same year as Big Brother? Ugh, dammit, don’t think about it, not now. “Not sure when…no, I’m not sure if I’ll see them again. But I’d…I’d like to.”
“Oh, I see,” Kalluto says at length. His tone is carefully neutral, but there’s a wistful expression in his eyes. “I…I hope that you meet them again, too.”
How often did Kalluto get to leave the house, again? Now that he thinks about it, Kalluto hasn’t done the Heaven’s Arena training either. Has he ever met anyone close to his own age who wasn’t a relative?
“Maybe I’ll meet up with them again one day,” Killua finds himself saying, “and I’ll bring them to meet you. I think you’d like them.”
Kalluto’s eyes go wide, almost bugging out of his head. Killua would laugh himself sick if he wasn't so tired, Kalluto looks that silly. “Really? I’d get to meet your friends?” His eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotions: curiosity, a little jealousy, surprise, all mixed together with a hopeful eagerness. Kalluto looks so much younger like this, more alive, not like the little doll that Mom parades around.
“If I can make it happen, yeah. They’re a bit much at first, but once you get used to them, they’re not so bad.” Shit, talking is getting a little hard. His voice is getting raspy again, and he can feel his eyelids push downwards. But Killua wants to keep talking, somehow. He can fight this, no problem; he’s remained awake for three full days before, so this should be a piece of cake.
But Kalluto is fidgeting, glancing towards the door. “I can’t stay much longer. Mother will notice.”
“Oh.” Killua is disappointed, but it’s not like he really expected Kalluto to stay the whole afternoon. If it is afternoon; I’ve pretty much lost track of time down here. “Yeah, you should get back. Don’t want her having another coronary.”
Kalluto’s lips flicker into a ghost of a smile at that. “No, we don’t. I’ll take my leave, then.”
“Yeah. Um, I’ll see you around, I guess.”
And with that, Kalluto nods deeply before tucking the beverage flask into the sleeve of his kimono and making his way to the door. His footsteps are completely imperceptible, and Killua allows himself a moment to admire his brother’s mastery of stealth.
Maybe we can finish talking later…whenever this is over.
With probably not much time left until Milluki comes back, Killua decides to slip back into a nap. If he can get really deep into his sleep cycle, he could probably sleep entirely through whatever torture session Milluki has planned for him, and wouldn’t that really piss him off? As he drifts off, he thinks he can hear Kalluto whisper something, so quiet that Killua can barely make out the words.
“I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.”
It’s a strange feeling, hearing that. Warm…strangely warm.