Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The water dragged back to the sea leaving a trail of foam, a perfect curve of bubbles that sparkled in the sunset. For one moment, they turned the dull, wet sand into something precious, then they melted away with the barest sound (as was only natural, as Killua expected them to) leaving only the faintest trace. The next wash wiped even that away.

He listened to the waves crash and told himself he shouldn’t worry, that Gon was just late. He searched the sun’s reflection back across the ocean all the way to the fiery horizon, where the hazy silhouettes of the Monae Islands heralded the entrance to the hidden land of the spirits. Gon’s island was somewhere among them. He could be anywhere along the sun’s path, which was rapidly fading. 

But Illumi’s words echoed in Killua’s mind like a prescient whisper in the hollow of a spirit stone. It won’t work, Killu. The sea will call Gon back. He is what he is and the pull of the ocean is greater than yours ever can be.

Killua licked the salt from his lips. His brother was wrong. Gon would never leave him. 

His stomach gnawed with hunger. He’d not eaten all day, not since he opened his eyes at dawn and found Gon’s place beside him empty. At first, he hadn’t worried—he’d just built a cooking fire outside their hut and waited. Gon had probably gone to dig for pipis. He’d expected, like always, that when Gon returned he'd eat his raw and Killua would cook his, but what mattered was that they’d eat together. Then they’d spend the day apart, him on land, and Gon with his people beneath the sea. But Gon hadn’t returned, not then, and not even now, from the ocean as the sun was setting.  

Already, the molten ball had dipped beneath the horizon. Its path had vanished, leaving the ocean dusk grey. In the oncoming curl of a wave, Killua glimpsed a deeper shade, something dark and flowing like Gon’s hair. His heart quickened and he ran forward. But the wave collapsed and the mass flattened into the foam. It rushed towards him until a trail of greenish seaweed washed around his feet and drifted away. His greeting died as if it had never leapt into his throat. 

The insect bite at his ankle stung from the wash of salt. He pushed his toes into the cold, cold sand. It turned gritty as the water drained. The wind beat against his ears and reached past the collar of his cloak and under his shirt, raising bumps across his skin. Gon had always tried to feed him oily fish to shield him from the cold, saying he wouldn’t feel it if his bones didn’t stick out so much. But Gon—he was the best shield from the cold Killua had ever had.

Every morning, right where he was standing now, they’d kiss goodbye, then he’d watch as Gon swam away. The ghost of their kiss and the warm feeling it gave him would linger for the rest of the day as he hunted, made weapons for his caches and continued to plot Illumi’s downfall so that Alluka, their sister, could return.

But not today. Killua rubbed his arms beneath his cloak and paced, examining the darkening sea as far as the horizon. Waves smashed on a tall pinnacle beyond the bay. (He’d named it Cock Rock for the poetry. Gon had shoved him and said he was being a dick, and it should be Finger Rock. When he’d sniggered, Gon had wrestled him to the ground, so he’d kissed Gon a lot and reached through his seaweed skirt, and given him the chance to choose which he wanted. Except then, Gon had insisted it should be Dick Rock, because he just couldn’t bear losing.) Whatever. Killua wished he could go out there to search, but thanks to Illumi, that was impossible.

The waves crashed, empty. Stars came out, and then a half-moon. The sky deepened to black. Killua waited and cold turned him numb. He wanted to do something more, but could only wait. Finally, even though Gon would never hear him past the waves, especially underwater, he cupped his hands around his mouth and cried out: “Gonnn!” 

Of course there was no answer. But, sweet Tehun, where was he? Why hadn’t he come back?

“Gonnn!”  

His throat hurt. Calling out wasn’t going to help.

Killua fisted his hands inside his cloak and paced the length of the shore to the rocks at the far end. In the dark, every lump looked like it could be Gon’s washed up form. Swallowing, he inspected each one. Only stone and barnacles and seaweed. He climbed onto one, slippery in the dark, and faced the spray. “Gonnn!”

And what if Gon had come in up the other end while Killua was down here? 

Swiftly, he paced back to where he’d started. Everything was cold and dark. The beach and the water were empty. He stared out into the night. Gon could just be held up. Something was bound to keep him back one of these nights.

The tide was coming in around his feet. It felt icier in the dark. He stayed, because Gon could be back any moment. Gradually, the retreating water sucked the sand away from beneath his heels. 

His strength seemed to drain away with it. Normally, he’d be asleep now, with Gon. The next time a wave broke around his shins, he fell to his hands and knees. Something was bound to hold Gon up one night, yes, but this didn’t feel like that, not with how Gon had disappeared this morning.

“Gonnn!” he yelled again, over the roar of the waves.

He kept crying out until his throat grew hoarse.

Every wave was another chance, but every time one died, Gon wasn’t there.

And finally, a tinge of blue-grey crept across the sky. A faint warmth touched the back of Killua’s neck, and his heart shrank. 

His sodden cloak and pants clung heavily to his knees and thighs as he dragged himself up. He turned back towards the dunes and the line of trees and scrub beyond them that surrounded his and Gon’s hut. As he did so, pain pulsed through the scars down his left side. An inhuman whisper filled the sound of the wind and waves. 

He stopped.

He’d barely heard Nanika since he’d taken Alluka to her, saving his sister from execution. This couldn’t be coincidence. 

He swung around to the ocean again. “I don’t understand,” he shouted. “Are you trying to tell me something? Is it about Gon?”

Her voice feathered into his ears and penetrated his skull, as soft as foam, yet as strong as the tides. She pushed the constant whispers of the dead, part of Illumi’s curse upon him, back as though they were nothing.

“I don’t understand!” he yelled. “Tell me! Where is he?”

Whatever she had to say couldn’t help him if he didn’t understand. Only Alluka could translate her words, and she was far away now, also somewhere in the islands. Which he could never reach.

✧

Fifteen moons ago  

That splash didn’t sound right.

Killua’s grip tightened around his fishing spear, but he resisted the urge to swing around and glare through the reeds. That would reveal he knew he was being watched. Since he’d begun hunting here a few days back, he’d come to know the distinctive harmony of the wetlands: rushing whispers that rattled through the reeds, sploshes where eels or other creatures slashed the surface, the constant drone of frogs and humming insects. This was a larger creature. Possibly another human. Maybe even a monster.

He was wading thigh deep where the reeds gave way to the the broad expanse of river-mouth and sea-tide, and where he could dive back in among the reeds if needed, to slip away from an attacker. He had a commanding view past the low rocks that broke the surface here and there to the steeper rocks of the headlands, layered like stacked flatbreads where the inlet gave way to the ocean beyond. His watcher couldn’t creep up on him and easily remain unobserved. They were cautious, probably weaker than him, since they’d kept their distance and hadn’t attacked in the days since he’d first noticed their splashes. Therefore, there was no reason to put off his hunt. 

Today, he would fool the enormous fish that had evaded him for days—an opponent he’d come to grudgingly respect (unlike his watcher) for almost killing him so many times. Its eyes were as sharp as its spines, and so Killua, determined not to be beaten, decided to camouflage himself. There hadn’t been much he could do about his white hair except bind the roughly chopped locks into a top knot with a leather tie. However, despite the cold, he’d discarded his shirt, and wore only a ragged loincloth tied above his prominent hipbones. He’d rubbed mud into his face and the rest of his body to stain himself to match the terrain, and waited through the hideous itch for it to dry. When he’d cracked it off, his pale skin had turned the mottled grey-purple of a sea-slug. It looked so horrible, he’d snorted with derision at himself—since there was no one else to do so. Not even Sparrow, since she hadn’t followed him here. The only time he used his voice these days was when he spoke to her.

But then, he may have heard a answering snicker from among the reeds.

All the more reason to stab the watcher.

From the snicker (if he hadn’t imagined it due to loneliness) and the prickle between his shoulder-blades, he’d decided they were probably human. Their stealth must be equal to that of the warriors of his village to have crept into the reeds each day without him noticing. But it was unlikely to be anyone from there. It was possible Illumi had set someone to spy on him, but why? To watch him hunt? That didn’t make sense. It could be a spy from his people’s enemies, but he was south of their usual reach, in an area that had no real value to anyone. They might’ve recognised him by his white hair. If so, they were wise to be cautious. It definitely wouldn’t be Illumi, since he’d made an enemy of Nanika when he’d tried to kill Alluka. He never went near the sea in case Nanika killed him in revenge, not that he’d admit to that fear. 

Illumi’s aversion to the sea was one of the reasons Killua had chosen to live along the shore. The other being it was as close as he could get to the islands where Alluka now lived.

He pulled in a deep breath, trying to relax the ache in his chest. Sweet Tehun, he missed her. She wasn’t just his sister, but his closest friend—the only person in his village with whom he’d been able to bare his heart, and he’d been the same for her. Somehow, despite having to endure their insistence on calling her a boy, and their fear of her relationship to Nanika, she’d grown up cheerful and brave, refusing to bow down. He wished he knew how she was finding her new home. The wind rattled and whispered, and it felt almost as if he could hear Nanika wanting to tell him—but that really was only his imagination. 

A silver streak broke the monotonous dark water. Killua edged forward. A medium-sized fish, the kind he’d seen his prey hunt and eat. A lure. It leapt with a light splash and snatched a bug hovering close to the surface.

The area between Killua’s shoulder blades pricked. He hefted his spear, ready to strike if he glimpsed orange spines, or to swing around and pierce his watcher through their heart. Green flickered in the water just ahead at the end of his reach. A flash of orange. Lightning fast, he plunged—

 Weight slammed into his back, sending him down. Water closed over him as he twisted with his spear. Shit, shit, shit! Bubbles swirled noisily around his ears as a man hollered. His shape loomed over Killua, rippling through the water. Broad shoulders, ropes of long dark hair. Killua’s muscles coiled. He drove his heel up and connected with the watcher’s hard abdomen. The impact sent him deeper underwater, but gained him distance. He scrambled to his feet and surfaced, flicking strings of wet hair out of his eyes as he brought his spear back to his shoulder. 

“Idiot!" Killua yelled. “Why now? You cost me my prey!” Dripping with water, chest heaving, he glared at his attacker. Ten paces between them. All that held him back from killing the other was the way the young man faced him, arms wide, hands spread and empty. Tehun’s breath. He was hiding nothing, his body entirely naked.

Fins trailed from the backs of his forearms. 

Still panting, Killua stared at those first. They were a mix of translucent greens, with spines radiating out to shape them. He’d never seen anything like them. They were strange and beautiful. And no people he knew of wore seaweed and coral decorations like those in the man’s long black hair and around those powerful biceps. 

He looked about mid-twenties, the same age as Killua. A few inches shorter—average height, but broader across his shoulders. Killua’s throat went thick as his eyes slid down the man’s body and took in the perfect blend of powerful muscle and sleek contours. His wet skin was a deep, lustrous tan. Shallow breaths made the man’s solid chest quiver, as if his heart raced like a trapped wild creature. His dusky nipples were pebbled with cold. His ribs were healthily covered with flesh, unlike Killua’s bones, and his waist was strong, poised and streamlined. Tension showed in the ridged muscle down his stomach. Killua’s neck warmed as he lowered his eyes and followed the trail of dark hair down from the man’s navel to the nest below, where his loose cock dangled like a sweet indulgence between thick thighs, just above the surface of the water.

Killua’s tongue darted across his lips. He tightened his grip on his spear.

“Um…” the young man said, in a low voice that seemed to hold a tremor of excitement as well as tension. “You gonna throw that thing?” 

When he levelled with the stranger’s eyes, Killua’s breath caught in his throat. Set beneath well-shaped eyebrows, they shimmered with an unearthly gold. And with laughter. Clearly, all Killua’s staring wasn’t going unnoticed. His flush warmed his cheeks, making him grateful for the mud stains. “That depends,” he said. “On who and what you are. Why did you push me?”

But it wasn’t just the stranger’s body Killua felt drawn to. It was the strength and focus the man radiated, the open fierceness in his face and the unusual honesty in his strange eyes. He showed both fear and determination. He didn’t hide his lack of weapons. His nakedness was complete in a way Killua wasn’t used to. He seemed guileless. 

“I’m Gon Freecss,” the man said. “And I stopped you because you were about to kill Kon.” 

“Kon? You mean the fish? With the orange spikes?”

“Yes.” Gon folded his arms across his chest, fins flexing neatly down. Scales shimmered at their roots, pale greens shifting to gold before they merged with his skin. “He’s smart. You’d never have gotten near him just now if you hadn’t stained yourself. Uh…” He flashed another glance over Killua. “That was really clever!” 

Killua’s stomach fluttered at the compliment. Which was stupid. Why should he care for a compliment from someone he didn’t know, who could still be an enemy? It was probably meant to disarm him. He swallowed, feeling at a disadvantage with his ugly mud-stained skin and jutting bones. Even without the mud, he was hideously scarred down his left side, and the other would’ve seen. His cheeks heated again. He must’ve been on his own too long if he cared whether a stranger find him attractive or not. He flexed his fingers on his spear. “Why do you care about the fish? Do you own him?”

 “No, I don’t own him—he’s my friend! This is his hunting ground. You’re lucky he hasn’t killed you yet. The only reason he hasn’t is I asked him to wait.”

“Your friend.” Right. Like Sparrow was his? Huh. But… “You can talk with fish? Are you a spirit?”

It would explain the man’s glamour, and meant it might take more than a spear to deal with him. Killua prepared to draw sigils with his left hand. 

Gon’s stance grew wary. “You don’t need to do that. I’m not a spirit. My people live in the sea, under the waves. Near the islands.”

Killua darted another glance at Gon’s fins. “I’ve heard of those people. I thought you were meant to have fish tails. And sharp teeth and long claws.”

Gon splayed his fingers, displaying short, jade-green nails that matched his fins. “No claws. But I have sharp teeth.” He bared them at Killua. Bright white and even, shaped like Killua’s own. 

Killua rolled his shoulder, feeling the weight of the spear. “I thought they’d be pointed.”

“Just sharp. For tearing fish.” A frown drew Gon’s brows together. “Who said those things? They’re lies—we’re not monsters.”

“My village elders.” The urge to trust Gon more than his own people on the matter was disconcerting. “You can breathe underwater?”

Gon angled his neck. A row of slits gaped up the sides of his throat. “Gills.”

Sweet fucking Tehun. But it was satisfying to know how Gon had watched him with such stealth. He hadn’t had to approach from land, come up for breath, or use a reed to breathe through. He really was a sea-dweller. 

“You’ve been spying on me for days. Why?”

“You noticed?” For the first time, Gon looked perturbed.

“Of course. Although you hid well.”

“Oh. Normally no one can tell.” Gon rubbed the back of his neck. His brow creased. “Look—I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not your enemy.”

Killua arched an eyebrow. “Then what are you? Are you stalking me?”

“Ah, no!” Gon waved his hands. “I’m not—I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You spied on me for days. And now, you show up naked.” But Killua didn’t want to hurt Gon. In fact, he had to concentrate to keep his spear level, Gon was so disarming. Which was a worry in itself—he could believe all the old stories where sea-dwellers entranced humans on sight were true. And they all had tragic endings. He felt his cheeks heat again. “What am I supposed to think?”

Gon bit his lip and stepped back. “Well, I didn’t mean for you to see me! If you hadn’t tried to kill Kon, I wouldn’t have…” He fisted his hands at his thighs and looked down at the water between them. 

Gon’s retreat plucked at Killua’s heart, but he ignored it and aimed his spear relentlessly.

Finally, Gon looked up again, cheeks tinged pink, eyes round and sincere. “I—I was curious. It’s not like many people come here! And my people don’t trust land dwellers. Mostly. But you look about my age, and well. There’s no one my age at home. And you were on your own, so I figured if you found me, you couldn’t hurt me.”

“You’re wrong. I could put this spear through your heart before you know I’ve moved.”

“You’re wrong if you think I can’t move fast enough to get away.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

“Only because you still haven’t told me!” 

Gon’s frustration was palpable, and finally, Killua felt sorry for him. He lowered his spear. “I’m Killua Zoldyck.” 

Gon didn’t react to the name, which, while disappointing, scored him extra credibility points.

Killua explained. “The warriors in my village are the most powerful fighters in Dentora, and totally loyal to my family. We’re mercenaries and assassins. And I’m my family’s heir when my father retires. See this?” He teased out a string of his hair. “This is why. Only one person in my line in a generation has white hair. It’s the sign that I’m the most talented among them.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” Now Gon looked impressed.

Killua shrugged. “Well, I don’t really want to hurt you. So, you should know what you’re getting into by facing me.”

Confusion overtook Gon’s features. “But Killua—if you’re their heir and they’re totally loyal to you, why are you out here by yourself? And how come you look half-starved?”

“Uh…” He inspected a trail of bubbles from some fish swimming nearby. “That’s a long story. I left them.”

“Why?”

 The words welled up inside him, but he pressed them back down. “It’s a lot to explain to a stranger.” 

“Killua! We’re not strangers anymore.”

He snorted. “We’ve only just met.“

“We won’t be strangers if you tell me. You don’t have to if you don’t want. But, I’d like to hear.”

It would be…good to talk. That was an understatement. It was like being offered a fine meal after a famine. But Killua was still hesitant. Such an invitation could be a trap. Such tactics were used to gain a stranger’s trust so you could take advantage, whether for sex or money or to learn their secrets. But Gon’s warm brown eyes were sincere, even if they did strange shimmery things. It really felt like he was interested. Interested in Killua. Or in his story, anyhow. 

“Okay,” Killua said. “But you have to tell me about yourself too.”

Gon’s smile brightened and he sank into the water so his hair drifted around his shoulders. His fins flared and caught the sun as he pulled himself closer. The scales around them sparkled. 

They were really pretty. Alluka would’ve liked them too, Killua thought. He sank down as well, leaning on his spear, so his eyes were level with Gon’s. He could reach and touch Gon’s fins now if he chose.

“It’s like this,” he said. “My older brother, Illumi, has always hated my sister, Alluka.” He told Gon how when she was small, she’d she’d met the spirit, Nanika, and been possessed. How she and Nanika understood and loved each other, and that Alluka was meant to be Nanika’s priestess.

“Nanika?”

“She lives in the sea to the north, near my village. Back in my great-grandfather’s day, she was our guardian spirit. Sometimes she appears as a sea-serpent.”

“I know her.” Gon tugged the armband from his left biceps, revealing a silvery scar that circled his arm. “She saved my life ten years ago. She healed me after I lost my arm fighting a monster.”

“Tehun’s breath.” Killua stared. “What did it cost?”

“Nothing. Maybe she just wanted me to live.”

“Was that what you chose to do to become a man? Fight a monster?”

Gon looked puzzled. “No, the monster was attacking my people. I didn’t have to do anything to be a man. Why would I need to choose…?”

“Ah, we have…rites of passage.” Probably the toughest in Dentora. “That would’ve been acceptable. Doesn’t matter. That was ten years ago?”

“Yeah. I was fourteen.”

Tingles ran up Killua’s spine at the coincidence. It must have been around the same time Nanika saved him. But he chose not to tell Gon about that now. 

He explained how his village had rejected Nanika decades ago. “In my great-grandfather’s time, she killed two hundred of our warriors to balance the magic she used to grant our priest’s request. She’d killed our enemies at sea before they had the chance to attack us. But next time we sent our warriors out, their boats returned to shore carrying their corpses. Not one survived. They were all shrivelled, twisted husks.”

Killua savoured Gon’s wide-eyed reaction, then continued. “Since then, my village refused to honour her.  Instead, they used a guardian mage to protect us from magical attacks. My brother Illumi trained from birth to be that mage. When he found Nanika had possessed Alluka, he felt threatened. Nanika’s power is far greater than his and can’t be controlled. That terrifies Illumi and everyone else in my family.”

“But you’re not scared.”

“Because Alluka trusts her, I do too. Alluka knows her. Illumi only fears her.”

“I see. What did your brother do?”

“With my parents’ approval, he isolated Alluka outside our village, far from the ocean, where Nanika’s reach is weakest. For a long time, they thought they still might be able to use her to harness Nanika’s power. But when she was older, she made it clear she’d always refuse. She told everyone she was meant to be our priestess and to care for us. She began to denounce Illumi to the servant-guards who brought her food and clothes. My family worried people would listen to her. Because Illumi’s power is cruel. Magic doesn’t come without a price. He makes sacrifices to the spirits that inhabit our mountain.”

“Sacrifices?”

“Both animal and human.”

“Dark magic.” Gon’s mouth was an angry line.

“Yeah.” Killua’s gaze dropped. “Very dark.” His eyes lifted back to Gon. “But the point is, he can control it. Human offerings are usually enemies we’ve captured, people we’ve been hired to make vanish, or those who’ve disobeyed our rules. He captures their spirits for his curses. It’s worse than just killing them. It means that so long as he’s using them, they’ll never know rest."

“So that’s why you left.”

“No.” Killua said. “I don’t like it and I want it to stop. I want Alluka to be priestess. But that’s how my village has been kept safe from magic or spirit attacks since before I was born. I left when Illumi tried to execute her. He found her guilty of forbidden magic. The penalty for that is death. And no one would help her. Either they were scared of him, or he’d convinced them she was dangerous and insane. Or not even human, since Nanika possessed her.” His fist tightened on his spear and he felt his nostrils flare. “Alluka is the kindest and bravest person in my village. She wouldn’t stop denouncing him, saying his magic was cruel and wrong. She was the only one who saw things clearly and had the courage to say how they truly were, no matter what it cost her.”

“You…you care for her deeply,” Gon said.

“Yeah. I love her. We were very close. She’s better than any of them.” A smile twisted his mouth. “So I helped her escape. The night before Illumi was going to kill her, I broke her out of her cell. Hunters came after us as soon as they knew she was gone, but I hid her in the forest, and then we fled to the sea, where Nanika appeared. She took Alluka to the islands where my people can’t reach. And I couldn’t stand going back.” He grimaced. “I was disgusted at how they’d treated her.”

Gon prodded Killua’s spear hand with a finger. “So you’ve been living on your own since then?”

“Pretty much. I see them…sometimes.”

A questioning look. “They just let you leave? Even though you’re their heir?”

“Well, not exactly.” He was impressed by how well Gon listened, missing nothing. He couldn’t hold Gon’s gaze, and stared at a flat rock poking through the water nearby. “They thought I might try to join her, so fucking Illumi fucking cursed me. If I go out to sea, a storm will come and I’ll drown.”

 “That’s terrible.” There was real distress in Gon’s voice.

Killua shrugged. The idea of drowning must be unthinkable to someone who lived in the sea. “I don’t have to go out there.”

“But how could your own brother curse you?”

“He says it’s for my protection. And I tested it—I needed to see for myself if it really worked. I took a canoe and tried to get to the islands to reunite with Alluka. But I didn’t get far. As I pulled past the the headlands, a storm rose up out of nowhere. The further out I went, the stronger the wind and waves grew, until I was fighting to keep the boat from overturning. I’m not an idiot. I can swim, but I couldn’t fool myself that waves more than twice my height, fuelled by magic, wouldn’t overwhelm me. 

Killua sank down so only his eyes were above the surface, hiding the way he sucked his lower lip in. Gon’s bright smile had been replaced by a deep frown and troubled eyes. He’d made Gon unhappy. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. 

“You said the power in his curses comes from the spirits of people he sacrificed.”

He nodded and the water sloshed around his ears.

Pain creased Gon’s brow. “But Killua. That means…are they with you?”

He let himself surface to his chin. “Yeah. I can hear their voices. Don’t…don’t pity me.” He crushed his toes into the mud. “When I was young, I used to help my brother with those…sacrifices. It was part of my training.”

“But you’re not like him!”

“You don’t know me, Gon. You can’t say that.”

 Furious brown eyes locked on his. “I can tell.”

“Well. I don’t want to be,” Killua admitted. Across the water, far behind Gon, the islands were a hazy blue. “I promised Alluka I’d take him down.”

Neither of them spoke as the water rocked them. The sun shone off the  surface into Killua’s eyes. He swatted a humming insect away from his ear and watched the greens in Gon’s fins shimmer. Subtle weblike patterns ran through their overlapping shades. Killua poked a finger out and carefully touched the nearest edge. Gon flared the spines, shifting it towards him. Killua found himself smiling. They felt slippery against his fingertip. And he felt lighter than he had in many moons, as though a burden he hadn’t known he was carrying hadn’t gone, but had shifted. 

“You should let me help you,” Gon said. 

Killua blinked. “Huh?”

“I could help you take down your brother. ”

“Gon.” He liked the shape of the other man’s name, how it felt to say it. “You have no idea how strong he is. He’s not just a mage, he’s a warrior too, as skilled as me. In fact, he trained me.”

“I’m a warrior. I told you, I fight monsters. Your brother sounds like one.”

Killua shook his head. “I can’t have an outsider help me against him. That’s like letting you kill yourself for me.” 

“You’re up against your village too, though. You shouldn’t have to do it on your own.”

“‘Should’ is a romantic word. It doesn’t exist. Anyhow, he lives on land. Even if you want to, you can’t help.”

“I think romance exists.”

“Do you.” Killua delivered an icy look to quell Gon’s burning gaze. 

“I do,” Gon insisted, with a confident grin. “And I can go on land. I can spend up to half my time there.”

“Really? Then how come I’ve never met anyone like you before?”

“Because the ocean is our home.” Gon said, and aimed a pointed look at Killua’s spear. “And we keep out of sight of land dwellers.” 

Something from one of the old stories he’d heard caught at Killua’s mind. “You’re weaker on land.” 

Gon looked down at himself, then eyed Killua’s chest and shoulders. “You think that matters?” He turned as he rose in the water, hair trailing down his back. He bent his arms up behind his head, grabbing the black locks with a fist, pulling them out of the way. The one fluid movement flexed his biceps, displayed his triceps, and rippled every muscle across his shoulders. Finely wrought tattoos, sea monsters and waves, on his back came alive as he moved. Scales caught the sun across the backs of his shoulders, disappeared into his nape and ran down the groove of his spine. His skin hinted at every muscle beneath the surface. He must spend his entire life in motion, Killua thought. 

He grinned over his shoulder. “Even if I’m only half my strength on land, I’m stronger than you.” 

“You think so?” Killua managed roughly. At least this time, Gon was only uncovered to his hips. He rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t judge my strength by my appearance. Just because I don’t look as strong as you, doesn’t mean I’m not. Did you not listen to anything I just told you about myself?”

Gon sank down as he swung around. His golden-brown eyes shone as they met Killua’s. “I did. You sound like you’d be really fun to fight.” 

“Is that what you’re about? Looking for something to fight?”

“No. I told you, I was curious. And now I want to help you, if you’ll let me.” 

“I already told you. I’m not letting you die.” Killua glanced at his spear in slight consternation, realising how far things had turned. 

Gon leaned forward, loosening his shoulders, gaze intent. “Killua, come on. If you won’t let me help you, at least play with me.” 

“Tehun’s breath. Who plays at our age?”

“We can. We’ll have fun.”

The same determination was visible in Gon’s jaw as when he’d offered to fight Illumi. Something inside Killua weakened. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Maybe I’ll teach you a lesson. Let’s see who’s stronger.” 

He stabbed, and Gon sprang away towards the open water with a splash, laughing. 

Hmm, he was fast, and maybe he had fins on his legs too. Killua sank into a hunter’s stance and crept deeper, until the water reached his waist. He stabbed again. Gon slipped sideways, eyes bright. They stared at one another, both their chests heaving. 

 Gon lunged for Killua’s spear. He snatched it away, yelling in surprise, but felt the tracks of Gon’s fingers down his scarred left side. He slipped in among the reeds to use them to his advantage, but when he swung around, Gon had vanished. He must be somewhere underwater. Killua searched—no hints of bubbles among the thickets to the right or left, or behind. How would he find him? What if he’d gone? 

His feet were swept from beneath him. Cold shock filled his stomach and he gasped as he went under; there’d been no warning, not a shift in the water. He forced his eyes open, staring past long strands of black hair into Gon’s big eyes as their hands brushed on the shaft of his spear. They grappled for it. Reeds bumped Killua’s feet as he kicked. Their stomachs and legs glided together as smoothly as eels and slipped apart again. Each time left Killua’s heart racing. He had to shut his eyes against the golden glow in Gon’s as they tested their strength. He wouldn’t have believed it, but in the water at least, Gon was as strong as him. No—stronger. Slowly, he could feel the spear twisting in his callused grip, his wrists and biceps giving way.

A stranger was taking his weapon. Fuck.

And he was running out of air.

In the biggest leap of trust he’d taken in years, as his feet found purchase in the mud, he let Gon have the weapon and leapt back. They both surfaced, facing one another again as the water sloughed down their bodies. Gon tossed his wet mane back in a practiced motion, hefted the spear and aimed at Killua’s chest. 

Killua’s heart thrummed. We’re not strangers. We’re friends. Exhilaration flooded his veins. 

Gon flung the spear in a powerful arc above Killua’s head. There was a distant wet thunk as it embedded itself ashore. “Now we’re equal.” Gon threw himself at Killua.

Killua shrieked with laughter and dodged, unencumbered by the weapon, sprinting away into the reeds. 

As they played, a knot inside him began to unravel, something that had pulled so tight when Alluka had been condemned that he’d forgotten it wasn’t a normal part of himself. He felt the joy of competing with someone who could keep up, without the dangers of others watching, ready to condemn him for any weakness. Teasing Gon was a revelation. Challenges hooked him like the fish he was. Underwater, Gon continued to best Killua, but his focus was superb, always releasing Killua to surface before he ran out of air. On the rocky plinths throughout the bay, Killua found his strength again, but Gon proved too slippery to hold while wet. There were moments when they balanced as they gripped one another, when the whole world seemed to stop as their strength grew equal, and everything shrank to Killua’s heartbeat as he looked into Gon’s eyes, far too aware of the other man. But neither of them gave, because to give would be to lose, and they were equally tenacious. 

It felt like spring breaking through in the middle of a long winter. A broad shaft of sunlight shining through a crack in the endless grey cloud. Killua wouldn’t think any further than today. He’d just enjoy this while it lasted.

They talked and chased and laughed until the sun dropped low.

Killua had avoided drawing attention to the light, even though now he wouldn’t get back to his hut until after dark. He stared out to the islands and the ocean, where he couldn’t go. Nerves fluttered in his stomach as he surveyed Gon’s flushed cheeks, bright eyes and wide smile. Killua curled his toes into the mud. “Will you be coming back here?“

“Tomorrow. If you’ll be here.” 

Killua felt like he could breathe again. “I will be.” 

Gon smiled goodbye and laid a hand on Killua’s shoulder, warm and firm, thumb sweeping his collarbone. His skin tingled and he clasped Gon’s wrist lightly, wanting to weave their fingers together but unsure of how the other would react. Anyway, Gon was leaving. He dove beneath the water leaving a wake of amber ripples. Killua stared after them. His heart flapped against his ribcage as helplessly as if Gon had speared him.

✧

At the top of the headland, Killua drew to a halt and leaned forward into the wind, panting to catch his breath. The river mouth where he and Gon had first met lay below, bathed in morning light, glinting with cloud. Reeds spread in endless random patterns until they petered out in the wider rock-pocked expanse that led to the sea. 

 It was drawing a long bow to think Gon might be here, but there’d been no sign of him in the areas around their hut. This place where they’d first met was special to both of them, so if Gon could, maybe he’d leave some signal.

Killua’s sharp eyes found nothing other than the ordinary trails left by water birds. No patches of broken reeds. Nothing out of place on any of the rocks.

He cupped his hands to his mouth and called, “Gonnn!”

The sea wind pummelled his body, carrying the tang of new leaves. Through it, he could hear only birds’ cries. At the piercing call of a hawk, he peered up. 

A dark shape plummeted down. 

“Sparrow?!” He held out his wrist. 

She landed perfectly on his leather brace in  a flutter of brown feathers and aimed a yellow-rimmed eye at him. 

“You followed me here. Why’d you do that?” 

She crooned at him and he stroked her soft back. She’d been with him since he’d saved her as a baby from the scattered remains of a nest, when he’d been living alone before he met Gon. Now, she was fully grown. Her presence eased the churning in his stomach a little, even though she couldn’t help in the slightest.

“Well, girl, you can watch if you want. But I need to search for Gon. He, he hasn’t come back, you know.” His throat knotted. “Show me if you see him.” 

He threw her off to soar above, and then descended the stone ledges until he reached the dark water. It’d probably be futile, but since he couldn’t see in from above, he had to enter.

First, he discarded all his clothes and his weapon, the flat dragonbone club that he’d inherited as his birthright. His skin prickled as much with worry as with the cold spring air as he stood among the humming insects at the edge of the rock. The bite on his ankle stung. With a yell, he leapt out between the clumps of reeds, deliberately loud, sending up a crash of water. His skin shrank with the cold shock. But Gon would hear him, or at least Kon would, whom he’d swum with many times now. 

The places he and Gon had mucked around the most, the place they’d met—he could search those at least. The reeds rasped against each other as he sloshed between them, heedless of their edges scraping his bare shoulders and hips. He moved from the reeds onto the rock flats, one after another, peering into the muddy depths around each one. As he pulled himself deeper into the bay, he called for Gon in every direction. Waterbirds rose into the air, wings flapping loudly. 

“Shut up, you stupid creatures,” Killua yelled. Gon could reply any time. What if he was just swimming into the bay?

But he’d been searching for ages, and gotten nowhere.

“Kon,” he yelled, wading to the limits of the water where the huge fish often circled. He couldn’t use his mind to communicate with Kon the way Gon did, but the fish could maybe show him something. 

But there was no sign of Kon, either.

Killua straightened from endlessly peering through the muddy water and scrubbed his hands up his face. He pressed his fingers into his skull, pulling in a deep breath. He couldn’t go where Gon could, not even in a boat, thanks to Illumi’s curse. He always had to wait for Gon to come to him. Even after marrying almost a year ago, half their lives were still out-of-bounds to each other. He’d kept pushing this sick feeling away, that he’d never be able to find Gon if something went wrong and he vanished at sea. Would never even know what had happened.

Now, it was real.

“Gonnn…! Gonnn…!” His cries echoed between the stacks of rocks that hugged the edges of the bay. When it died, there was only the wind again, beating against his ears and cheeks. 

Stupid. He wiped the back of his wrist across his eyes. What am I doing? 

Wasting his time here in increasingly hopeless ways. 

He stared out to the ocean, thoughts sliding in all directions. Gon might be lying broken in a hidden crevice along the coast, or he might be as far out as the islands in the distance, trapped deep underwater in that trench where that monster had torn his arm off long ago.

Killua dug his nails into his palms. No one ever solved anything by panicking. Gon needed him not to panic.

A couple of long deliberate inhales quelled his shallow breathing. There was one other place special to them both where Gon might have left him some sign if something had happened. Their cavern. The one place completely private from both Gon’s people and his own.

✧

Chapter Text

Killua hurtled down the gradual slope between the rata trees, following the stream that led to the cavern. He’d spent so long searching the estuary that the sun was already shining low through the boughs. Each strike of his foot sent a hollow thud through him. It was nearly the end of the second day since Gon had disappeared. 

When the brush cleared to the plateau, the sea wind tumbled in from the edge ahead, slapping his face as he made his way through the tussocks. It felt ominous and appropriate, as though the spirits of those who’d died here still hung fighting in the air. He followed the stream as it flowed along a broad crack in the rock, which opened into a hole large enough to swallow a longhouse. The booming sound of waves rose from below as the stream cascaded down into the dark.

There was nothing good about the hole from up here. It was a judgement ground. Sometimes, a warrior from Killua’s village might be respected despite their crime and have the support of their companions. Sometimes, Illumi wasn’t in a position to mark them for sacrifice. So instead, they were taken here to be cast down the drop, where they would brave Nanika. Her judgement was final, the only gift his family accepted from her anymore. 

It didn’t stop the condemned resisting when they arrived at the edge of the hole. Even when Nanika was their only hope, they didn’t trust her. So the fools always died. Yet when Alluka had argued that she should be cast down here, Illumi had refused her.

At fourteen, Killua himself had chosen passage through the cavern as his path to manhood. A deliberately public choice, so although his parents were horrified, they couldn’t refuse him. Even then, he’d known how much Illumi hated and feared Nanika, and he’d partly chosen it to spite him. He’d wanted to shove that fear back into Illumi’s emotionless face. 

The memory still sent shivers of phantom pain through him. In front of his whole village, he had stripped bare and thrown himself into the hole. The rock had disappeared past in an instant. The sound was deafening as he plunged into the heaving waves at the base of the waterfall.

Thrown back up, he saw sheer wet walls, impossible to climb. Tossed like a rag doll, he couldn’t reach them anyway. Oysters and barnacles appeared in a shaft of sunlight, then he hit them. The impact was bone-crushing. Razor sharp edges tore up his left thigh, up his hip and ribs, and then, as he twisted, his shoulder blade. His head swam with the fiery pain and his vision turned red. He gasped for air, then he was sucked down into darkness.

The moment he let go of his lungful of air, he’d drown—

Nanika’s roar was louder than the rumble of the waves that reached him through the dark. His heart pounded in his throat, the fear she inspired piercing him like a spear thrust. But Alluka had told him Nanika was kind. He could feel the skin of his hands and feet rip as he shoved away from the walls that tumbled against him in the black, needing to get to where her voice thundered loudest so he could throw himself on her mercy.

When she seized him, it felt as if great claws circled his waist and pulled him. He shot out from the tunnel into dazzling sunlight. Strength gone, he felt Nanika drawing him away and up. The water around him was pink with his blood.

Finally he’d dragged himself up the sandy shore, his chest on fire with every heave of his lungs. He was almost completely flayed down one side. It took a week of Tsubone’s foul-tasting medicines to fight the fever. But from then on, his people accepted he’d been reborn as a man and he’d had a man’s choices.

Tehun’s breath, it was good Alluka hadn’t gone through that.

Now, he flattened himself on the deep gouges marking the ground around the hole where the condemned had resisted their fate. As he peered over the edge, the impact of the waves below rumbled through his chest. At first he couldn’t see into the dark. His face was wet in moments from the spray as he waited for his eyes to adjust. He shielded them from the sunlight that drilled into them from the top of the waterfall.

Nanika loved Alluka, and she loved him too, or he wouldn’t have survived back then. She belonged to the sea—she must know where Gon was. And she had tried to speak to him at the beach.

“Nanika!” he hollered into the cavern. “If you’re here, speak to me!” He concentrated on his scars for any sense of the ache he felt when she was near. Was it too much to hope that now, when he really needed help, he might understand her at last?

He heard nothing yet. But his eyes had adjusted, and although it was far below, he could just make out the narrow seaweed-covered ledge to one side where he and Gon had first kissed and shared their bodies with one another.  

✧

Thirteen moons ago

Buffeted by turbulence, hand in hand with Gon, Killua plunged through watery shards of moonlight into the dark of the tunnel. His pulse spiked. In the ten years since his rebirth as a man, he’d never dreamed he’d willingly enter this place again, and never from the ocean. But he’d also never imagined anyone like Gon at his side, pulling him through the currents. 

His lungs were already burning and he tried to slow his pulse to make his air last. The sea was so loud, it was like being trapped in the hollow of a drum. Gon squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Killua realised his own grip had tightened despite his effort to hide his fear. Something brushed past his shin—the fin that ran down the back of Gon’s calf—and he felt the surge of water that accompanied Gon’s powerful kick. A swell pushed them forward. White light sparkled ahead. With a savage kick, letting go of Gon’s hand, Killua shot up.

As he broke the surface, he heaved in air. Gon’s arms came around him from behind, holding him in place despite the constant billow of the ocean breaking against the cavern walls. Killua fell back against him with a warm shiver he hoped Gon wouldn’t notice in the turbulence. Ahead, the waterfall thundered down. 

He’d never seen, never dreamed anything like this. The cavern was nothing like the glimpse he’d caught ten years ago. Moonlight poured through the jagged hole above, turning the waterfall silver and white. Spray shone throughout the air. Pearly reflections glowed from the rock surrounds. Where shells had worn away over time, the whorls and ledges in the rock were opalescent, clouded with soft blues and pinks and purples.

“It’s only like this a couple of nights a year,” Gon yelled near Killua’s ear, the only way he could possibly have heard him. “The moon has to be at just the right angle and the sky has to be clear.” 

Killua rested his head against Gon’s cheekbone. “It’s beautiful.” He was still catching his breath, though part of his breathlessness came from the feel of Gon against his back. The reverberating crash of water made his senses reel, and so did the embrace he’d only let himself imagine until now.

Gon’s arms tightened for a moment, just long enough to fan Killua’s hope that it wasn’t only the necessity of holding him afloat—but then it ended. Gon rolled them onto their sides and drew Killua across the water to a long ledge where the barnacles and oysters crusting the lower reaches of the cave were replaced by thick fringes of seaweed. The shelf was far enough from the waterfall to be a good viewing point where they could also rest. Gon climbed out first, then pulled Killua up by his wrists. Long pods of seaweed popped and squelched beneath his feet as he scrambled over the edge, inhaling their briny scent. As he stood, the sea rose again, past his knees, and he thrust a hand to the wall for balance. His fingers shone against the uneven rock, his skin so pale he could almost imagine he belonged here. Beneath his feet, the shelf sloped steeply down towards the wall, which made him feel safer. The air was cold, but the vigour of their swim had warmed him, and when Gon’s gaze searched his eyes, he felt buoyant, as if he might float up into the spray. “It’s all so beautiful. I never imagined.”

As he took Gon in, his breath caught.

Tonight, Gon looked different. Before they’d entered the water, when they were in the shadow of the cliff, the sheen of his eyes had been the only detail Killua could really see. Now, Gon was lit by the moon. His beautiful eyes were liquid with reflections and the small round shells in his hair glowed like pearls. 

Killua reached to touch one at his temple. “It is a pearl.” Gon had woven pearls into his hair. Killua smoothed his thumb over it and smiled at the realisation. He’d grown so used to touching Gon as they fought and tussled and swam, that it felt natural to brush his fingertips into the thick wet locks behind the strand of pearls as well. 

“Do you like them?” Gon asked. His eyes seemed strangely vulnerable. 

“Yeah.” He knew the answer was inadequate, but he felt tongue-tied.

Sunset gold flickered across Gon’s eyes as if they were the sea. He’d dyed the area under them a blue-purple in a streak that crossed the bridge of his nose. It made his eyes seem clearer. Killua felt he was tilting into them, about to be swept into the ocean. He lowered his gaze. But Gon had dyed his mouth too, a dark matte version of the same colour. A tradition of his people? His generous lips were spray-wet and slightly parted. 

Killua felt his own lack of decoration. He’d stripped himself of everything so he wouldn’t be caught by protrusions in the tunnel. He was acutely aware of being naked this close to Gon, and the irony of it. Gon was wearing a short seaweed skirt, as he had since their first meeting. Their positions from that day were reversed. Killua hadn’t expected to leave the water. Which meant he couldn’t hide his obvious arousal, if Gon looked down.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t. Killua swallowed and ran his fingers slowly down through Gon’s hair, since he didn’t seem to mind. It was the first time he’d had the chance to touch it this carefully. There must be something magical about it that kept it from tangling in the water. It streamed over his fingers in silken ropes, black with the slightest green tinge. 

“Beautiful,” he said softly. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hide his fluster. “I— I mean, the cavern.”

Gon laid his hand on Killua’s cheek. “Beautiful as Killua.” 

Heat flared through his skin under those smooth warm fingers, and his heart stuttered. The reply hovered on the tip of his tongue— no, you’re the one who’s never looked lovelier. His hand had paused by Gon’s gills, which fluttered, a delicate green flushing their edges. Gently, he ran his fingertips along the slits, which he’d never touched before. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.” Gon arched his neck lightly into the touch. He might have sighed; hard to tell past the noise. His tongue darted across his lips. When he spoke, his voice was warm and rough like sandstone. “I’m really happy you like it here, Killua. It’s a sacred place to my people, but because the sea’s so strong, I’m the only one who’s come here since my father left. I really wanted to show you.”

Killua’s eyes grew hot. It felt like something inside him was breaking, seeing Gon like this. Such a special, beautiful place, unseen by Killua’s own kind in moonlight, and Gon had taken him here and dressed in jewels for him to make himself even more beautiful than he already was. He slid his fingers around into Gon’s nape. “You’re beautiful,” he blurted, knowing he flushed, so unused to speaking compliments except to Alluka. And she was gone. But here, faced with the honesty in Gon’s eyes, he needed to tell him.

His eyes fell again, to Gon’s forearm. Moonlight shone through the fin there, silhouetting the delicate spines that shaped it and making the scales around it glimmer. Killua’s fingers ached—he wanted to stroke along its length. To discover how Gon would react, how it would make him feel. 

Curious fingers travelled the side of his face and across his lower lip, making him tremble. Spray shone on Gon’s cheeks and at the ends of his thick lashes. His eyes were heavy-lidded and trained upon Killua’s mouth.

Killua leaned in, eyes closing as he trapped Gon’s fingers between their lips. Gon’s breath was warm, and as their mouths moved, his fingers slipped away, and he gripped Killua’s shoulders. Desire swelled in Killua, shocking him with its force. He broke away, heart thumping though the kiss had been brief. 

But now he knew Gon’s people kissed. Gon had probably been just as unsure of him. He cupped the back of Gon’s head and licked at his lips again. Salt water and berries. When he pressed the tip of his tongue to their softness, Gon opened, letting him slide into the hot interior of his mouth. He could feel as much as hear Gon moan as their tongues stroked. The kiss pulled sounds from the back of Killua’s throat as it deepened. Heat shivered through his belly. The sea tugged at his legs and shifted his feet, but powerful hands grabbed his hips.

As their bodies finally pressed together, they broke past the light brushes and bruising but too-brief contact that had taken place in the water over the last two moons. Everywhere they touched, Killua’s skin flamed. Heat bloomed under Gon’s heavy grip at his hips and waist. He wanted to devour Gon with his hands. He reached under his shoulders and splayed his fingers, covering as much of Gon as possible, kneading into the muscle, then dipping down the groove of his spine. Scales slid beneath his touch, as warm and as smooth as he’d imagined, supple as Gon’s spine flexed. Heat rippled low in his abdomen at Gon’s groan. He passed over the waist of Gon’s skirt and felt underneath between the seaweed ribbons, caressing into the starburst of scales he’d seen at the base of his spine.  

Gon cried out and his hips bucked forward. The wet seaweed strands between them gave way to the hard, hot slide of his erection. As their lengths met, Killua moaned. Fuck. Fingers dug into his shoulders and Gon’s brow pressed into the crook of his neck. 

He turned his mouth to Gon’s ear. “This okay?” 

“Yeah,” Gon panted, and turned them, shoving Killua’s shoulders back against the rock. 

Killua reached down through the back of Gon’s skirt, gripped the muscle of his ass and pulled him in. They rocked together, groaning and gasping as the sea rose and fell around their legs. Killua’s thighs shook and he dug his toes into the seaweed for purchase. It was slippery, but Gon had wedged himself a few inches higher at the front of the ledge and used his weight to keep Killua safe. The memory of the pain he’d endured nearby melted into pleasure. He cried out as sharp teeth scraped his neck, showering sparks of pleasure through him. He tilted into them. At Gon’s abrupt look of concern, he gasped, “Yeah, yeah, this is good.”  He mouthed at Gon’s hair and inhaled his fresh seaweed scent. The way the pearls glowed, Killua would’ve thought it a dream, but for the rock digging into the back of his shoulders. 

He slid his fingers up Gon’s forearms, feeling into the scales at the roots of their fins. Gon jerked and quivered against his chest. “Killua!”

He stilled. “Did I hurt you?” 

Gon’s face lifted revealing blown pupils, only a thin rim of gold around them. The dye had smeared across his swollen lips. “No. I like it.” 

Carefully, Killua rubbed along the roots of Gon’s fins again, watching his eyelids flutter. The surprising sweetness made Killua’s heart clench and flooded him with tenderness. Weaving his fingers behind Gon’s head, he cradled him as he kissed the dye beneath his eyes, tasting seaweed and berries. 

A wave crashed around their hips and he gasped, feeling it lift him. Gon surged against him, pinning him by his shoulders with thrilling strength. Their brows brushed and Gon’s dark gaze burned. “I’ve got you, Killua.” 

Tingles spread over Killua’s skin. He sucked in a breath. “Yeah, you do.”

The moment the water fell away, Gon ground into him. Killua groaned and left it to Gon to hold them both there while he curved his fingers around Gon’s ass again. Seaweed slid over the backs of his knuckles. “Can I feel you here?”  

He didn’t know how experienced Gon was. He spread him, eliciting a groan as Gon’s hot mouth slipped at his jaw. 

Seawater ran over his fingers as he ran one down the cleft between Gon’s cheeks and over his hole. Gon whined and shuddered against him. Killua could feel him trembling as he stroked him. He mouthed past Gon’s hair to his ear. “How’s this?” 

“I like you doing that.” 

Killua kissed his hair, and stroked him some more, feeling him shudder. When Gon pressed back against his finger, he teased him for a bit.

“Killua…” Gon groaned.

He sucked his finger and held it up for Gon to see. “Is it okay if I feel inside you?” 

Gon stared, then nodded.

“Tell me if I can.”

Gon’s eyes darkened. “Killua, I want you to put your finger in me.” 

Sparks shot straight to Killua’s cock. Fuck. To hear Gon say that. He caught Gon’s mouth in a kiss, reached down behind him and circled his hole. He stroked until Gon relaxed, then slid the tip of his finger in. 

Gon moaned into his mouth, quivering around him.

“How’s this?” He stroked carefully into Gon’s heat.

“Hnnng...” Gon squirmed back onto his hand, staring from beneath heavy eyelids. “Killua… I like everything you do.” 

He kissed Gon, feeling deeper into him as the waves tried to shake them. It was dangerous. “Just, don’t let me go—“

“I’ll never let you go,” Gon said.

Something like a sob caught in Killua’s throat. He was grateful for the thunder that filled the cavern. All the seaweed strands between them slipped away as Gon tore the skirt off. Pressing together skin to skin, they groaned against each other’s mouths. Killua shook as Gon’s hand slid between their stomachs and wrapped their shafts unevenly. Crying out, he thrust into Gon’s grip, then shuddered at the strong thumb skimming his cockhead, drawing slickness down.

As they moved together, everything became a moonlit haze through Killua’s eyelashes, filled with their gasps and moans. Heat surged through him, despite the cold sea. He needed to be closer; he ground harder, his shoulders taking their weight as he thrust his hips. He fucked his finger into Gon, pulling them together, heart drumming at the hoarse breaks in his cries. He sought Gon’s lips and kissed him again, tasting waves and sunlight and thunder as their tongues twined. The tang of the ocean behind Gon’s teeth was sweeter than any honey. The slick heat of his skin melted into Killua’s chest like flame. They ground urgently, harder and faster, hips bumping painfully hard until heat clutched at Killua’s abdomen, drawing his muscles taut. 

“Ohh, fuck! Gon! I’m gonna—”

“Killuaaa!” 

Gon’s hips spasmed and his neck arched. His come seared Killua’s stomach. Heat exploded from the base of Killua’s own spine. Eyes clenching shut, he cried out incoherently, spiralling into the force of his orgasm. He was rising into the spray, into the moonlight. Shockingly hot pulses shook him. He gasped and moaned as Gon continued to hold him and stroke them both through it.

As his legs weakened, the heat from their combined release branded his skin through the cold water. He became aware of bruises at his shoulder. His descent was dizzying, blissfully slow, shivery with aftershocks. They clung to each other in a slippery embrace. Gon’s warmth and fresh scent wrapped him as he crushed his mouth into thick black hair. Gon’s sweet words filled his ears, low and wonderful, incomprehensible except in his dreams, so unlike anything he’d heard or believed, he couldn’t bear to think them in case they drifted away. He could scarcely comprehend the intensity of his response to Gon, nor the strength of his desire to pleasure him. As their chests heaved, he pressed his face to Gon’s neck and kissed his gills, breathing his name over and over, knowing he loved him and that the old stories could go fuck themselves, because there was no turning back from this.

✧

Far below, water drained away from the ledge. Seaweed glistened blackly in its wake. Killua looked for a string of shells. Or maybe even pearls. He clutched the edge of the rock and wriggled until his shoulders were past it, giving him a dangerous but better view down past the uneven walls. If Gon had left anything there, it would be something that would catch the light. Please, let there be something there.

He saw nothing. But there had to be something, because this was the only place left he knew to look, given he couldn’t search the sea. He shook the spray from his face, and kept staring down into the crevices, blinking the water away, revisiting one hollow after another, until, after a while, the walls of the cavern began to feel as if they were just dark patterns, not really there. It was the constant drumming of the waves making everything feel like a trance. He wished it was. An escape from the pain that welled inside him each time a glimmering reflection turned out to be no more than wet rock.  

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pain was like a knife slowly digging through his insides, scraping him empty. It felt like it was dragging him back from a dream to real life, the life he’d expected. As though Gon had never been. He felt less real up here than the cold stone digging into Killua’s chest.

“No,” he whispered. Gon had been with him for more than a year, the best year he could remember. Better than anything he could have dreamed for himself. He had to be out there. He couldn’t have just vanished. “You said you’d never let me go.” Something had happened, which meant there had to be a sign somewhere.

He wriggled onto his elbows and yelled into the cavern. “Gonnn!” 

The boom of the waves swallowed the name. 

“Gonnn!”

His throat hurt. He clenched his fists on the edge of the rock. As if yelling down there would work. It was stupid, fanciful to even try. As if the sea would somehow carry his voice to Gon.

But what if he never saw Gon again? 

What if Gon was dead?

He needed a sign. He missed Alluka so badly, but at least he knew she was alive and safe. He shouted down into the cavern again. “Nanika!”

Why had she tried to speak to him?

His scars weren’t aching, he had no sense that she was near. “If you can hear me, I need to find Gon! My husband!” His cheeks flushed to be doing something so, so outlandish, but he shouted anyway. Gon was everything to him. “I need to know he’s still alive!”

All he could hear was the boom of the water. His cloak flapping near his ears. Not even a thin whisper of Nanika’s voice. He laid his brow down on his forearms and stared at the grey grain of the rock. 

A loud flutter by his ear. He shifted his head to find Sparrow settling at his elbow. Her black eye gleamed at him. 

“So you’re still with me. Are you here to lead me back? You don’t have to. I know the way.”

Maybe Gon would be waiting back at the hut, ready to berate him for not having more faith, that he never had to worry, because Gon would fight to be with him. 

He would, too. Imagine if he had. Imagine if that had killed Gon. 

Pain spiked through his chest and everything spun. Shit. Killua backed carefully away from the hole. As he rose to his feet, Sparrow shrieked and soared into the sky, circling above. He couldn’t afford to think like that. Thoughts like that were as harmful as Tehun’s breath. Paralysing.

✧

Chapter Text

Killua’s throat tightened as he ran up the steps to the door of the hut. Often if he returned this late, Gon would be waiting inside, lying on their sleeping mat in a nest of blankets, sleepy eyes reflecting the sunset as he looked up with an irresistible grin. 

But when Killua shoved aside the deerskin at the entrance, their bed was empty. He halted, sagging against the opening. When he pushed himself to go in, it didn’t feel worth rinsing his feet in the bowl at the threshold, though normally he tried to keep the hut clear of sand. The flap fell shut behind him with a soft thud. The final rays of the sun bounced off the tattered weavings that covered the walls and across the three chests that held their possessions.

They’d built their home together. It nestled above the dunes amongst scrubby tea trees, spiky cabbage trees and thickets of swordlike flax. Each night the gentle rasping of the leaves and the sound of breaking waves soothed them both to sleep. Killua’s village was an hour’s run away from the hut (far enough away so no one would bother him) and Gon’s home was on the far side of a long swim. But they could both reach their own people from here.

It’d taken them several moons to make everything from the poles that framed their hut, to the stone base and the wattle and daub walls. They’d thatched the roof with reeds and bark, and lined the floor with woven flax mats Killua had brought from his village. Though Killua’s people had indoor hearths where cooking could take place, he always lit his cooking fire outside, where the smoke and food odours would blow away and not scent the inside of the hut. At night in winter, they kept the air warm with aid of a brazier, and slept wrapped in the heat of one another’s bodies. He’d never been warmer or happier than in the small hut he shared with Gon.

Gon had disappeared soundlessly. The sharp-edged hardwood club Killua had made for him (similar to his own dragonbone club) still leaned on the wall by the top of their sleeping mat. The wool cloak Killua had given him hung from a peg on the centre post of the rear wall, along with the strings of shells and coral Gon had unwound from his hair that last night. Killua bit his lip hard, remembering the soft, salt-thickened feel of the black tresses tumbling through his fingers as he’d combed them out until they streamed down Gon’s back. He’d used to do that for Alluka, so he’d offered to do it for Gon. And Gon had told him he loved having him do that.

Exhaustion weighed on his eyelids, but he needed to think, not sleep. The sun was fading. He struck fire steel to flint with a sharp crack and lit the oil lamp on the middle chest. 

Fuck. My hand’s shaking.

He had to eat. It’d been two whole days. Fear had quelled his hunger, but he guessed also, part of him had refused to accept that when he got back Gon wouldn’t be waiting with a couple of fresh fish.

He dragged the end chest towards him roughly, scraping across the mat. He opened it, dug out a bag of green palm berries he’d gathered the day before Gon had vanished, and crammed a couple into his mouth. Not fresh, yet the nutty flavour made him even hungrier. He sank onto the bed, washed them down with a swig of water from his waterskin, and stuffed in the next mouthful.

If I’m going to find Gon, I need to think straight.

The door skin flapped loudly in the wind. Killua shook his head. It was hard to focus. Even the movement of the shadows in the lamplight made him dizzy, he was so tired. He should be sitting outside with Gon now, watching him tear his raw fish apart. They’d eat and talk, and bump into one another, then lean in, gradually testing to see who was stronger today, before they forgot everything else as their mouths and bodies slid together. 

Killua groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. His mind was still wandering. He needed to think. Gon was out there, somewhere. He had to be.

Thing was, there’d been no sign of a struggle outside, and he would’ve woken if someone had attacked Gon in their hut. There was no reason Gon would’ve left him—they’d both been happy. The only times they argued seriously was when he wouldn’t let Gon help him fight Illumi.

He stared at the sea lizards Gon had carved into the window sill, with their glittering, shell inlaid eyes. He wished they could speak so he could plead with them. They knew. They’d seen whatever had happened.

Something dull caught his eye then, on the mat below the window. A small dark object that he must have bumped out into the open when he pulled the chest out from the wall. 

It felt…wrong.

He leaned across and picked it up. An ordinary pipi shell, but only one wing of the small clam. It was hard to see in the dusk, but the rounded triangular surface felt gritty rather than smooth when he rubbed his thumb across. It was leathery underneath—the pipi was still inside. 

His throat went dry.

He brought the shell to the lamp. It was gritty because it was charred. When he turned it over, he found a shrivelled cooked pipi.

“Fuck!”  

He threw it down and it bounced back across the mat. His throat spasmed—he couldn’t breathe. He knew what had happened. 

Gon could spend half his life on land and half in the sea, but the moment he ate cooked food, that would change. He’d never be able to return to the ocean. So if Killua wanted to trap him on land, he could force him to eat as he slept. But then Gon would lose everything else he held dear—his family, his sea home. That he slept the nights with Killua was an act of enormous trust and love.

However—if anyone tried to feed Gon cooked food, and failed, Gon would be forced to flee. He’d return to the ocean and never set foot on Dentora again.

That was exactly what Killua’s family would want. They’d never accepted his marriage to Gon. Of course, Killua had never told them of the taboo. But Illumi, as guardian mage, could have found the information somewhere in his books and scrolls.

Killua collapsed back onto the bed. His stomach churned as he looked down at his ankle. The painful bite there now made sense. It wasn’t a bite. It was the pinprick from one of Illumi’s darts, and it hadn’t healed because he was reacting to the poison that had kept him asleep while Illumi placed the cooked pipi on Gon’s mouth. 

“Oh, Gon…”

That was all it would have taken.

Killua covered his mouth and lurched to the door flap, shoving it aside just in time to retch. He gasped for breath, bending over and clutching the frame as the sour remains of the palm berries dribbled from his lips. His eyes watered. “Oh, Gon.” He clenched his jaw, then his stomach heaved and he retched again. 

“Illumi,” he rasped. “You…fucking asshole. Haven’t you already done enough?”

He screwed his eyes shut, then forced them open again. The night air was cold on the wet skin around them.

The prick on his ankle felt fiery with his new awareness. It meant Illumi had even overcome his wariness of the sea to come here and do the job himself. To make sure there were no mistakes. Or, maybe he just enjoyed interfering in Killua’s life that much.

He tried to spit out the last of the mess. The light had gone, and past the dunes, the edge of the sea was a slowly shifting ghost at the edge of a vast darkness. He inhaled deep lungfuls of salty air and wiped his wrist across his mouth.

It wouldn’t matter how long he waited out there. Gon wasn’t coming back, not unless Killua could find some way to reverse the magic. Which he knew nothing about, since he’d stopped training under Illumi as soon as he’d had a choice, when he’d become a man at fourteen.

Somehow, he found an icy approximation of calm deep in his chest. He was no longer hungry.

Returning inside, he washed his mouth out with water from his canteen. Then he bundled the charred pipi shell into a pouch at his belt along with the bag of palm berries, slung on the canteen and his club, and pulled his cloak back on. He took one last look at the string of shells, running his finger and thumb along them. 

“Gon. You’ve already waited two whole days for me to figure this out. I won’t have you wait another night for me to act.” 

The shells dug painfully into his palm. He released them and blew out the lamp.

✧

Illumi, if you don’t fix this, I will kill you.

Killua set a swift pace through the woodland along the almost nonexistent path to his village. Worn by his own feet out of rare necessity, it took him into the deeper shadows beneath thick-trunked rimu, then into the gnarled beech forest with its moss-covered buttresses and limbs. The air was cold and damp, and by the time he passed beneath the palms along the river, his collar and the lower legs of his pants were soaked. He took the short cut across the rope bridge, refusing to adjust his pace. The planks bounced and rattled under his feet, above the rushing water. Ahead, the formidable wall of his village appeared, a pale glow against the base of Kukuroo Mountain.

 Jutting up from a swathe of grassland, its stones were silvery in the moonlight. From a distance, the spiked white poles that topped them looked like the jawbones of dragons. The two that glowed whitest actually were huge dragon jawbones, trophies that had belonged to Killua’s great-great-grandfather. The effect was enhanced by the vast darkness of Kukuroo behind the village, its peak permanently hidden in a cloud of white smoke, the poisonous breath of Tehun, the gigantic spirit that lay sleeping inside—a spirit no one could tame.

 Killua followed the river to the gates, which were tall and wide enough to let four fully-armed warriors on horses ride out abreast. Flaming braziers hung either side and lit the two armed guards beneath. A glance up at the keystone told him that Nanika’s guardian stone, set into the front to strengthen the wall when the village had been founded, was as blighted as it had been on his last visit many moons ago. Its tear-shaped surface was dull in the firelight. Pitted, rather than the gleaming black with a white heart glowing softly in its depths that it had revealed for the first time when Alluka had lived here. The condition of Nanika’s stone aligned magically with the state of the hearts and minds of the people within the walls. Nothing had changed. Not that he’d expected anything would.

He ordered the two guards to let him in. They bowed knees and heads as he passed. Inside the walls, the village was silent but for his own footsteps, soft on the grit and slower now, so he could catch his breath. As he passed the dark ridges of the longhouses, occasional beams of candlelight slid through cracks in their doors. He unloosed his club, closing his hand tightly around the neck as he took the path to the Shadow House.

The guardian mage’s home was raised higher than the longhouses, the highest in the village bar his parents’ palace. Wards guarded the roof and every possible entrance. There was no chance of entering secretly. Killua knew he was at a disadvantage, weakened by hunger and exhaustion. But in the time he’d lived away, he was sure he’d grown stronger than Illumi. Having to hunt and provide for his own survival every day had honed his reflexes and power even further than the notoriously demanding life the Zoldycks imposed on their warriors. He need only grasp his fury to summon his strength.

He climbed the steps and passed between the two spirit stones that warded the top. They’d been roughly smoothed to enhance their natural shapes, which were suggestive of mountain beasts, real or unreal. Each beast curled around a hollow interior. Their shadows seemed to encroach upon the small flames inside, which flickered when the wind blew.

Thanks to them, Illumi would now know he was here.

The two human guards crossed their spears over the double door.

“Tehun’s breath.” Killua gave them a scathing look. “You know who I am.” He advanced, ignoring their spears, and bashed the handle of his club into a carved panel hard enough to rattle the heavy wood. “It’s Killua,” he yelled. “I’m here for Illumi!”

 After only a few moments, the doors opened. Illumi’s servant-guard, Canary, appraised him. Her wide-set grey eyes were alert, though her loose black tunic was rumpled at her belt as if she’d just risen. She bowed over the brass-ended stave she held horizontally in her brown-skinned hands, the calluses on her knuckles from unarmed fights clearly visible. “Master Killua. Welcome.”

“I need to speak with my brother. Now.”

Her brow creased as her gaze swept him. He knew how he must look. Hardly intimidating next to an immaculately conditioned warrior like her—or any of the servant-guards within the Shadow House. His tangled hair and ragged clothes were covered in wet leaves and mud, and his feet were bare. Though their soles were easily tough enough to grind Illumi’s face in.

“You need to wash and eat,” she said softly.

“I’m fine.” He moderated his tone—she was the closest he’d had to a friend before he’d left, even though she was a servant. More than that: she’d looked the other way the night he’d helped Alluka escape. “Just get Illumi for me. Please.”

“You should leave.” Her eyes widened at him in warning.

“I can’t. Why?”

A noise came from behind her, the faintest creak. Her gaze dropped and she led him into the vestibule.

It wasn’t just dark. Shadows slid everywhere, across the walls and floor and crowding through the rafters. Killua could almost hear them whispering when the doors closed behind him, shutting out the wind. The barest flames flickered in the altars at either side of the chamber: a large hollow stone and an ancient hollow log, both from almost impenetrable reaches of Kukuroo Mountain. Other items lay on shelves, all containing small holes or whorls that gave the shadows places to hide. Incongruously, a thin cushion lay on the floor by the  low table, the crushed surface just visible, as though Canary had been resting there, expecting his visit.

“Welcome home, Killu.” Illumi had arrived in the doorway opposite. His gleaming black hair flowed smoothly back behind his shoulders. He wore a dark green tunic over a white shirt with subtle embroidery at the seams, not a thread out of place. “You look as though you haven’t slept for two days. And you’re cold and wet. Can I order you tea?” 

He seemed neither surprised to see Killua, nor distressed at his appearance. He spoke as if his arrival was no more extraordinary than a weekly morning visit, not an absence of almost a year.

“Are you trying to poison me?” Killua asked.

Illumi tilted his head. “You do need to keep your immunity up. You can’t assume it won’t weaken without regular exposure.”

Killua decided to ignore him. “I’m here because of this.” With his left hand, he dug the pipi shell from his pouch and held it up.

“Oh, you found it.” Illumi glanced at Canary. “You may leave us.” 

She bowed low to each of them, then left as Illumi selected a taper from a shelf.

“You don’t deny this was your work?” Killua said.

“Why would I?” Illumi said coolly. “Someone had to do something. You weren’t going to get rid of him.” He lit the taper at one of the lamps, then crouched to light another decorative stone lamp that squatted on the polished wood table. A thin plume of smoke rose from the flame as he straightened and blew the taper out.

“You crept into my my hut and drugged me. I found the pinprick on my ankle. And then, you forced this”—Killua thrust the pipi shell at his brother—“on Gon.”

“Yes.” Illumi remained unmoved. “All I had to do to was put it on his mouth while he slept. I could have killed him with one sigil, without even entering your hut—”

Actually, no, Killua thought. Though immune to their family magic himself, he’d carved subtle counter-sigils into the posts to protect Gon; he wasn’t stupid.

“—but I didn’t harm him." Illumi frowned slightly. “I knew you’d be angry at first—I expected you to come here—but you should be thanking me.”

“You tried to execute Alluka,” Killua said, “forcing me to help her flee. Then you cursed me, so I’ll die if I try to cross the sea. I can’t reach her, and not content with that—now you’re taking Gon from me as well. The two people I love.” His grip around his club shook. “I am this close to killing you.”

“Try if you want.” Illumi kept his hands where Killua could see them. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was no opportunity for him to grasp any hidden weapons. For once, there were no brass-headed pins decorating his tunic. “I’d rather not fight you. I want you to come to your senses.”

Killua shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the one who won’t. You must have planned this a long time ago. Did you make a whole new poison just to drug me?”

“Not especially. As you know, Kukuroo sometimes reveals new poisons. Tehun’s gift to us, while he sleeps. If you’d been living here”—Illumi’s tone grew icy—“you’d be aware of any new ones we find.”

“Keep your recipes for the rats. You’re going to undo this, then I’m leaving.”

Illumi sighed heavily. “Killu, you need to wake up. You know that’s not possible.”

“It’s magic.” He remembered his training. “There’s always a way to undo it.”

“If it were my own magic…” Illumi unfolded a hand in appeal and paced. “Then yes, there would be a way. But the taboo is part of a far larger magic, as large as the sea herself, and as powerful, because Gon is a creature of the sea. He’s bound to obey her. I’ve always told you: he does not belong on land.”

 “He belongs with me.” Killua advanced a step. “Why?” He hated the pain in his voice; it showed weakness, but he couldn’t stop it. “Why did you do it? We weren’t hurting you. Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?”

Illumi’s large black eyes turned glassy as obsidian. “Because it’s time for your fantasy to end. You were hurting us. You’re our heir and the family needs you.”

“Gon is my husband.” He glared back, defying the chill those eyes gave him. “He is my family.”

“No, he’s not your husband.” Illumi folded his arms. “Our parents never recognised your mockery of a ceremony. It wasn’t conducted by us. By me. You had neither our blessing nor our acknowledgement.”

“Like I care,” Killua spat. There was a horrible knot in his chest. Silva and Kikyo had refused to come, although he had asked them, because after all, they were his parents. But Gon’s aunt and great-grandmother had come all the way across the ocean despite the effort it had cost the old woman. It had been a small ceremony, faithful to the traditions of Gon’s people, at a sun-drenched pool among the rocks decorated with seaweed in bright colours. That was all he and Gon had needed.

“If you find this painful,” Illumi said, thin-lipped, “take it as a lesson. We taught you not to form attachments to anyone outside our family. But it seems that’s all you do—“

He caught the insinuation. “Alluka is part of our family!”

Illumi continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The only reason we tolerated your affair with Gon until now was because Father felt we should let you work it out of your system. He was convinced you’d come to your senses on your own. But one way or another, it was always going to end.”

“Nothing has ended. Gon is not ‘something I need to work out of my system’.” His voice was rising. Killua took a deep breath and tamped it down. “You will undo what you’ve done—I don’t believe there isn’t a way. Maybe you have to—I don’t know—apologise to the ocean or to Gon in some way that’s acceptable. It’ll be somewhere in your books.” 

“I already told you. It’s impossible. Even if you threaten me.” Illumi paced, but continued to watch Killua. “Once the taboo is broken, it doesn’t matter how or why. As I said, you need to wake up. I don’t believe you’ve thought about this properly.” He stopped and faced him. “You think it wouldn’t have ended, Killu. You think he loves you. But your feelings are interfering with your judgement, as they have all along. You need to stop being led by your dick and use your head.” He licked his lips, his hair shifting as shadows lifted the strands in sympathy with his irritation. “I forced nothing on your lover. If he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, he would have swallowed that pipi and stayed. He made the choice.” 

“You shouldn’t have forced the choice on him!”

“I had to. Surely you see? It was the only way to break the spell he’d put on you. Seems you were too scared to ask him yourself.”

 Killua stared at Illumi, feeling like he’d been plunged into a cold stream. Was that true? He’d never wanted to ask the question. He’d never wanted Gon to have to make such a terrible choice. But had it also been to protect his own heart from what he secretly feared Gon would choose? His club dragged on his fingers, pulling him down. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, finding the sweet-scented smoke from the lamp irritating. If Gon had made that choice, maybe he should let him go. He couldn’t—he couldn’t think clearly.

“We only want what’s best for you,” Illumi said.

“What’s best for me? You don’t care about what I want, or what makes me happy!”

“Happiness is serving the family. Whether that’s killing for us, marrying as ordered or eventually leading us. You must put this behind you and return to your rightful place.” Illumi paused and drew closer to the table, seeming to relax as he observed Killua’s tiredness. “Your betrothed has survived her coming of age.”

Those words cut straight through the haze. “So that’s what this is about,” Killua snapped. “Too fucking bad. I’ve taken care of that. Before I married Gon, I wrote—“

“You can’t have thought we’d allow that message to leave. Those arrangements were made ten years ago—breaking them now would start a war with her family. Now you’re back, you’ll stay for one moon, which will give us time to improve your appearance. Then you will be escorted to Kopore city, where you will be wed.“

Killua blinked. “You—you’re serious.”

“Of course. You will leave us and live with her people, then when Father deems it time, you will return with her to lead us. Just as he did with Mother. By then, you will have had time to mature. You will secure our alliance for the sake of our line—and the sake of those who serve us throughout Dentora. Killu—everything you’ve trained for is at hand.”

“You mean, all the shit I’ve rejected.”

 “You are about to seize your inheritance.” Illumi’s eyes glittered. “As your brother, because I love you, and as your future guardian mage, sworn to serve you, I would not see you throw it away.”

 “I—I can’t believe this.” His head was spinning. “You accept nothing I’ve said or done in the last three years. Nothing. You—you’re oblivious—it’s like we don’t even live in the same world! Even if none of those things had happened, I wouldn’t want to go ahead with this. I’ve never wanted a wife. Nor can I believe a fourteen year old girl would want to marry a man she’s never seen, ten years older than her, and leave her city behind to isolate herself all the way out here forever.”

“She is a princess. She’s been chosen partly for her natural talents, which complement yours. Her family is as disciplined as ours. She’ll do her duty.”

Killua snorted. “She’s forty-five places from the throne!”

“Must I remind you we are assassins?”

“Tehun’s…f-fucking….” Killua stared at him, feeling a little woozy. “Next you’ll be… Be ordering me to murder her relatives.”

Illumi smiled. “Contain your language, Killu. In one moon, you’ll be royalty.” He paused, then added, “You don’t have to consummate the marriage until she’s older, if that’s your problem.”

“Fu-u-u-ck,” Killua breathed, staggering slightly. He renewed his grip on his club. The edge of the table pressed into his shins. “My reality doesn’t even exist for you. You’re not listening. Gon is my husband. None of those things are issues, because I will—I will never do this. Rather, you will restore Gon, or…or, I will force you to face Nanika.”

Did Illumi’s face blanch paler, even if only for an instant? Anyone who didn’t know his brother as well would have missed it. Whatever; he’d had enough of this shit. Killua lunged up across the table, swinging his club back so fast it hummed through the air, which felt strangely thick. On the return, he aimed the flat at the side of Illumi’s head, calculating the blow not to break his brother’s skull, but to render him unconscious.

The room spun. His club dragged on his muscles. Illumi’s face doubled, then two of his green tunics slid up past Killua as his knees crumpled. There was an earsplitting bang—his dragonbone club hitting the table, followed an instant later by his cheek. The surface gleamed in the light from the stone lantern, a handspan from his eyes. He coughed and convulsed, choked by its cloyingly sweet fumes.

Why had he trusted Illumi to even…talk? He should’ve just…taken him.

He felt his club tugged from his hand. Canary’s voice moved around him in the shadows, directing her fellow servant-guard, Amane. 

He should have listened to Canary…

Their hands slid under the backs of his knees and behind his shoulders. His head fell back when they lifted him. He coughed helplessly.

As he peered out through the slits in his eyelids, Illumi’s face drew close, pallid against the curtain of his hair. His eyes seemed larger, the irises swirling so darkly with spirits that they blended into his pupils.

Killua felt himself shrinking. He was a mote somewhere in the dark. He squeezed his eyes shut and heard someone whimper. Fingers cradled his scalp and he couldn’t shake them away. Couldn’t close his mouth or nose against the bitter almond scent of his brother’s breath.

“I expected you to resist,” Illumi murmured. “So naturally, I prepared. One day you will thank me.” His kiss was cold on Killua’s lips and mercifully brief. “I will always love you, Killu. I promise, I will never leave.” 

✧

Art by Joolita

Chapter Text

Killua woke to a throbbing headache and a cold draft under his cheek that smelled of mud and the warriors’ latrine pit. When he dragged his eyes open, he was lying on the bare floorboards of a longhouse holding cell. Judging by the stench and the distinctive knot in the wood two feet from his nose, the same cell he’d known as a small child. 

Daylight crept in overhead through a gap under the rafters, along with distant shouts and the crashes of weapon-training. A wall pressed at his back. A piss bucket sat within arm’s reach, right before his nose, against the opposite wall. He groaned and curled slowly around his stomach, holding it against the clawing hunger inside.

“Fuck you, Illumi,” Killua whispered. His brother’s message was clear. 

Killua had last been thrown in here when he was six years old, when he’d refused to kill his pet dog, Molly. To do so had been part of his early training, designed to teach him ruthlessness and to cut off his emotions. 

The first day, after Silva had dumped him in the cell, he’d called out over and over, but no one had answered. Once he’d figured out no one would come for him, he’d cried. That night, a guard pushed a decent amount of food and water in through a flap in the door. He was to tell the guard if he was ready to be obedient, and he’d be released.

During the night, Molly had found him. He’d lain here, listening to her little snuffles and whimpers as she padded around beneath the boards. The next day, he talked to her through the cracks, and she kept him company listening to the sounds outside. But when the guard next pushed less food and a day’s supply of water in for him that evening, Molly was taken away. 

Left alone, he cried again, at first. When his tears dried, he counted the days and nights as they passed, and tried to entertain himself, inventing stories based on the patterns in the wood. He grew hungrier as the guard reduced his food each day, but he fuelled himself on anger, knowing his imprisonment wouldn’t end until he agreed to kill Molly. 

Eventually, they restricted his water. 

That had broken him, in the end. Going mad with thirst. And the promise that his loneliness would be sated by Silva and Kikyo’s love and approval on the other side of the killing blade.

He was no longer that child, but it seemed Illumi was determined to treat him as though he was. As though a reminder of that early lesson would pull him into line.

Pain washed the inside of his skull as he pushed himself up to sit. He was still wearing the clothes he'd arrived in; he even had his pouch. His club was gone, of course. So was his waterskin. How thoughtful. 

Slowly, he stood, leaning on the wall until the room stopped spinning. The heavy wooden door had no handle. When he thumped it with his fist, it rattled as though it was bolted in several places. Something rustled outside.

"Who’s there?” he asked, voice rough, hand pressed to the wood. If he knew the guard, he might know a weakness he could exploit.

“Canary.” There was regret in her tone. “I’m sorry, Master Killua. Your brother’s orders. If I let you leave for any reason, I am to take your place in that cell until I may serve by becoming a sacrifice."

Sweet spirits. He didn't want her hurt, he owed her too much. He slumped back against the wall, hand dropping to his side. "When will he be back?"

"He didn't say."

“I see. Does my father know I’m here?”

“I don’t know. I imagine Master Illumi will tell him.”

“Fine.” Killua sank to the floor and wrapped his cloak around his knees. "Well, I need food and water, and plenty of it. Have someone bring me bread, meat, honey, fruit."

The boards creaked as she left the door, then he could hear her low murmur from the far end of the corridor outside. There were no sounds of other prisoners; they must be keeping him isolated. Maybe so he couldn’t influence anyone with loud complaints about Illumi. 

While he waited, he ate the rest of the palm berries from his pouch. Some time later, the flap at the bottom of the door opened, and Canary pushed in a bowl of dry oatmeal and a flask of water. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Master Illumi left orders.”

He rolled his eyes and thanked her. It was food, even if it wasn’t what he’d commanded. The moment the flap shut, he grabbed the bowl, added enough water to make the oatmeal edible, and shovelled cold spoonfuls into his mouth.

When he finished, he tried to knuckle the exhaustion from his eyes and think past the wretched ache of Gon’s absence. The fact he was being kept here and fed meant they probably still believed he'd come around once he accepted Gon was gone. 

Idiots. He glowered at the piss bucket. They thought he'd just get over this? Accept it, knowing Gon had made that choice? He kicked the pail savagely, sending it clattering, overturned into the corner furthest from him.

But Illumi's words were as poisonous as his darts. Killua swallowed painfully, staring down at the knot on the floorboard. Gon loved him. Enough to marry him; enough to commit to the rest of their lives together. Since then, Gon had told him he’d never been happier—and Killua felt the same way. It was hard to believe that Gon would have chosen to leave. And yet, if he had… In the end, it didn't matter if Gon loved his sea home more. The sea was part of him, and Killua loved that aspect of Gon as much as he loved everything that made him who he was. It hurt, but he didn't have to be first in Gon's heart if they could just find each other again. He didn't deserve to be first, not after the things he’d done when he lived here. That he’d rejected that life before he met Gon didn’t wipe out the fact that he’d once been part of it. He was blessed to have ever found Gon. He was a miracle; as powerful and wild as the waves, yet warm and open as sunshine. He loved Gon too much to want him to forsake his world and live only here, in the shadow of Kukuroo. That would hurt him too much, and it would change him. 

Killua let his knees flop down and leaned his head back against the wall. Time dragged past, marked by the crunch of boots outside the longhouse and occasional indistinct voices as warriors used the latrine pit. Eventually, he heard an unhurried tread along the corridor approaching his cell. 

The door swung open and Illumi settled onto the frame, folding his arms as he gazed impassively down on Killua. “You should be feeling better by now. Are you ready to cooperate?”

Killua shot him a hard glare. Since it was disrespectful to remain seated, he stayed slumped back against the wall. "How long are you keeping me here? I can't marry again while I'm locked up.”

"I won’t have you attacking anyone," Illumi said.

“The only person I want to attack right now is you.”

“You’re offended.” Illumi didn’t react to Killua’s derisive snort. With a wave of his hand, he explained, “The drug was a necessary precaution.” He plucked a long brass-headed pin from among those decorating the front of his tunic, and rolled the shaft between his fingers. “Otherwise, I would have had to physically hurt you.”

“That would’ve been inconvenient, given everyone’s plans for my wedding.”

“Yes, it would have,” Illumi said. “But now, you've had time to reflect. If I'm convinced you'll cooperate, I’ll release you."

“And if I won’t?”

Illumi shrugged. “Your choice.” His eyes darkened as he considered Killua. “There are ways to change your mind. You may need to forget Gon completely."

Fuck. Killua’s muscles went instantly taut with the need to escape, though he stayed motionless. His gaze fell to the pin Illumi was holding at his thigh, the kind he usually prepared with special salves. “I see. You mean, you’d take my memories?"

“If I must." Illumi’s dark eyes glinted.

Cold trickled down the back of Killua’s neck. The cell was tiny. Illumi was standing in the only exit. It would take luck as well as strength to knock him down and overpower him from the floor, without getting pricked by that needle. And the drug was still in Killua’s system. It would probably affect his reflexes. “How long do I have until you, ah…decide?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Illumi levered himself languidly off the doorframe. “I’m sure Mother would prefer you prepared for your journey sooner rather than later."

If only he could back out through the wall. Killua stared at the pin and buried his sweating palms in fistfuls of his cloak. “If you take my memories, I won’t be the same.”

“You won’t change in any way that matters. I had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but you don’t seem to be growing out of your stubbornness.”

“You want to force me to be docile."

“No. I’m removing the things that distort your loyalty to our family.”

“Fuck you.” 

Illumi’s already bloodless fingers whitened on the pin. “No matter what you think, I do care about you, Killu. This is for your own good. You'll be happier.”

“I was happy!” Killua pushed himself up the wall. The cell felt like it rolled around him. When it steadied, he glared into his brother’s black eyes, heedless of the dizzying effect of the spirits swirling inside them. “You could have just left me alone. But you’ll only accept my happiness on your terms. It’s not good enough that I left you alone. You want to cut out the parts of me you don’t like! Well that’s not going to fucking happen. I will resist with everything I have. And as for harm.” His nostrils flared and his heart pounded against his ribs. “You've taken Gon! He’s my whole heart. You’ve already cursed me and I've lost my sister because of you! If you think you, or this family, have any part of my heart after all you’ve done, you are mistaken. ”

Shadows lifted strands of Illumi’s hair. “I shall have you forget about him, too." 

"Her. Fuck you!” Killua shouted. He wanted to punch sense into Illumi. He balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to defend himself if he had to. “She should be looking after our people, not you. No one would have to die! She would guard us with all of Nanika’s power.”

The muscles in Illumi’s forearms corded, the fingers of his free hand pulled back like claws. “I don't understand why you won't abandon this idea. The lives I take are either inconsequential, or they’re people who’ve betrayed us. Whereas, Nanika can’t be controlled. It is a threat.”

"You don't need to control her!” He ignored Illumi’s anger; he was too sick of this. “But I guess you'll never understand that. You’re too—” he shook his head in frustration “—too full of fear and greed. Our ancestors didn’t know that fleet was going to attack. What if they were going to sail past? Of course Nanika required a balance for a request like that. Whereas if we’d just waited to fight, we could have trusted her to strengthen us or fight beside us. If we’d needed to fight! By not trusting her, we lost more people.” 

“Pure speculation. We'd just been struck with sickness, we were outnumbered.”

“Our forebears acted too soon, out of fear.” He aimed a black stare at Illumi. “And you’ll keep doing that. Alluka should be priestess, not just because of Nanika, but because she’s braver than you'll ever be. She was tiny when they met, yet she wasn't afraid. That’s why she saw Nanika’s heart clearly. As long as you are guardian mage, our people here are blind, when they should be protected by her vision. Look at the guardian stone!” 

Killua's heart was pounding, his chest heaving. A muscle flickered in Illumi’s jaw. His hair drifted across his face as the shadows responded to his anger, and his hand shook, holding the pin. Yet he hadn’t attacked. Why not?

Illumi rolled his shoulders back in a fluid motion, bringing himself under control, though his eyes remained glassy. “Oh, give it up, Killu. I'd almost forgotten how irritating you can be.” He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve a mind to take your memories now, just to stop you carrying on.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

Illumi remained silent, his face blank. He twirled the pin.

“You haven’t got Father’s permission,” Killua said, leaning forward, “do you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Once enough time has passed, he’ll grant permission. I imagine it won’t take long. Given your stubbornness.”

“So you can’t use that thing on me yet.” He glowered at the needle. “You can’t keep me locked up without Father’s permission, either. He’ll have heard I’m here. The guards will have talked, even if you haven’t. I want to speak to him.”

Illumi hissed, giving Killua an inner glow of pleasure, which increased when Illumi turned on his heel and left, slamming the door. Killua heard the bolts rattle shut, one after another.

“I want to speak with father!” he yelled at the door. Ouch. He gripped his head, trying to still the throbbing, and slid back down the wall to the floor.

Now he knew what Illumi planned and that he had at least one new poison, any food sent in was suspect. Even though Canary assured him it was fine, Killua refused his next meal and left the bowl by the flap. Even water might be drugged. Remembering back to his childhood ordeal, he knew he wouldn’t last long without drinking. He needed to get out of here fast.

 He spent the next while rigorously inspecting every board on the floor, walls and ceiling for weaknesses, but the cell hadn’t been allowed to deteriorate. Anything that might have rotted or rusted had been replaced. The Zoldycks knew what they were doing to when it came to imprisonment.

The light brightened at the rafters, then slowly dimmed again over the afternoon before he heard anyone else nearby except Canary. It was almost dark when a firm, heavy tread finally approached. 

His heart leapt. It sounded like Silva.

Killua stood, tugging fingers through his draggled hair in an effort to neaten it. Then Silva filled the entire doorway, carrying a lantern before him that made Killua squint.

His father looked in excellent health, his tall, powerful frame unaltered since Killua had last seen him—when he’d refused to attend Killua’s wedding. His mane of silver-blond hair, identical in colour to Killua’s, and the mark of his headship, fell about him in long, generous waves. It stood out in contrast to his warrior’s training garb, a loose black tunic belted at his waist.

"Killua. It's been a long time, but I knew you would return." 

His father’s deep voice felt like it carried the weight and authority of the mountain. Politeness and control were paramount when dealing with him. Killua straightened his spine and cultivated a deliberately relaxed stance, careful not to lean on the wall. Any weakness would be crushed. 

“Father.” He bowed his head long enough to acknowledge Silva’s status, then met his eyes. “I won’t be staying. I’ve returned only to have Illumi undo the damage he’s wrought.”

“You look tired,” Silva said. “Thinner than when you left. Weaker. And, you’re filthy."

“I haven’t slept much since my husband was stolen from me. But in fact, since you last saw me, I’ve grown stronger. To survive alone, I’ve had to hone my skill, caution and strength. I hunt savage beasts larger than any our warriors take on in pairs. I’m sure, were he still alive, I’d give Maha a run for his dragons.” He paused, to let Silva digest his words. “However, I’m still recovering from Illumi’s drug. And I wouldn’t still be this filthy if I'd been offered a bath. My brother’s hospitality is lacking."

"A bath can be arranged." Silva set the lantern on a small shelf inside the door and leaned back on the frame just like Illumi had, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Your brother was merciful at my bidding. I knew you wouldn't cooperate if we killed your lover."

“I see.” That wasn’t what Illumi had implied. It made more sense, though, that he’d held back from killing Gon on Silva’s orders, than that he’d done so just to prove to Killua that Gon had chosen to leave. Killua nodded, rubbing the goosebumps that had suddenly appeared on his arms. He owed a debt to Silva, whatever his reasons. “Thank you, Father, for not allowing Gon’s death.”

Silva inclined his head. 

"But.” He owed Silva a debt of mercy, not a wedding. “Gon is my husband. I didn’t see him choose to leave me. I can’t cooperate just because he’s missing. I believe he’s waiting for me to go to him. Father, I need to confirm his choice.” He took a deep breath. “If an enemy came between you and mother—a strong enemy—and stole her away, telling you later that it was her choice—would you just accept that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You wouldn’t. No more than I do. You would find her. And, she would expect that.”

Silva narrowed his eyes. “I understand your point. But I am not your enemy, I am your father. And Gon is not your husband. We sanctioned no ceremony and did not bear witness. I was clear about that, when you came to us.”

“I didn’t need your sanction. As the future head of our family, I sanctioned the ceremony and I bore witness. That should be enough, Father, given my status."

Silva barked a savage laugh. “You are young. Though I disagree with your choice, you still have time to grow. You are my son.” He grinned wickedly. “You defy the whole family, even me, and argue it is your right. At your age—I would have done the same. That strength will serve you well when you take my place as head.” He considered the rafters. "I can see how you feel you cannot marry until you accept you are free to do so."

“Nor would I wish to disrespect my betrothed by doing so.”

"It would be a bad way to start your lives together," Silva agreed, nodding. He gazed past Killua. “I fell in love with your mother during my sojourn with her family. The first time we killed together. I still remember the moment. She possessed such grace. Such skill and power, concealed in her petite frame. She was beautiful, Killua. She delighted in her art. I knew she was perfect for me. However—I had already sown my wild oats.” He grinned again. “The head of the family must be virile. You must take a wife and make babies. However—you have shown wisdom, not fathering a trail of bastards through the wilds of Dentora.” His eyes slid back to Killua’s. “If you are convinced that man you regard as your husband has truly left, then, will you do your duty?" 

“If I learn he's truly made that choice, then…” Killua pulled in a breath through his nose and pushed it out slowly to measure his tone. Gon wasn’t him “sowing his wild oats”. He’d had to fight to keep the blush from his face. And how many half-brothers and sisters did he have, scattered around Dentora? They’d probably all been killed so they wouldn’t threaten the family line. The thought was nauseating. 

But he answered. “Yes. I’ll do my duty.” He would never do what they wanted. "But not until then,” he added. “I can’t marry her while I'm married to someone else.”

He met his father’s pale blue eyes. “I have to find Gon. I can’t do that while I’m locked up. And Illumi has threatened to take my memories. If he tries, I will fight him. Resisting will surely increase the risk to the rest of my mind. When he’s done, I won’t just be without my memories—I won’t be the son you know. You would do better to give me more time. Let me leave, so I can find Gon. Father, please. “

Silva looked at him, long and hard. His eyes turned calculating. ”I will think on it.” 

He left, taking the lantern. 

As the bolts slid shut again, Killua sagged back down to the floor and stared into darkness.

✧

Chapter Text

The next morning, Killua was woken by a bruising kick in the ribs. He swore, but recognised Illumi’s boot the instant he opened his eyes. His brother was standing above him wearing a hard, flat expression as he dangled Killua’s dragonbone club just beyond his reach.

“Give that to me.” Killua pushed himself up and snatched at it, but Illumi held it away at arm’s length. 

 “You’ll get it back when I leave,” Illumi said. Then, looking faintly puzzled, he added, “Father believes you’ll come round sooner if we let you leave on this pointless search."

Yes! Killua thought.

"I disagree," Illumi continued. "Gon isn’t on land anymore, and you’ll drown if you search for him at sea."

The news was a strong antidote to the pain Illumi had just inflicted on Killua’s ribs. “Lift my curse," Killua said. "Then I’ll be fine.” As he sat and checked the fastening on his cloak, he shot a dark grin at his brother. All Illumi’s brass pins were arranged decoratively on his tunic, not one missing. And Killua’s head felt clear; the dizziness from the drug had gone.

“No. Your curse will remain.” Illumi wrinkled his noise at the bowl of uneaten oatmeal by the door and nudged it with his boot. "I trust you no further than you trust me.”

“Since you say you can’t undo the taboo”—Killua rose to his feet—“undoing my curse is the least you can offer.”

Illumi smiled coldly. Though he was tall, he had to look up a fraction to meet Killua’s eyes these days, a circumstance Killua always found satisfying. 

“If I did that,” Illumi said, “you’d try to leave for the islands. Either some monster would kill you before you got there, or if by some miracle you made it, you wouldn’t return. The curse is necessary.”

Killua flexed his arms in turn across his front, stretching his shoulders, banishing the stiffness from his muscles. But his gaze remained hard on his brother’s eyes. “This is your last chance. You’ve done more than enough, and you’re still threatening me. So, let me be clear.” He stilled. “If you do not remove the curse, I will no longer consider you my brother. That means I'll be free to kill you.”

Illumi’s eyes widened. “Oh.” But then he appeared to relax, stepping back into the doorway. “No. You can’t change blood.” He tossed the club and Killua caught it. As he turned to leave, Illumi paused. “Through all your wayward behaviour, I’ve always thought the saying, ‘blood is thicker than water,’ will prove especially apt. This is your home, Killu. I’ll be waiting for you.”

✧

Killua wasted no time following Illumi out from the cells into the cold breeze that crossed the punishment court, which was currently empty of prisoners. He turned the collar of his cloak up, blinking at the brightness of the clouds as he adjusted from the darkness of the past couple days—it must already be noon. He’d slept deeply, despite the hard floor, far longer than he usually would. Neither he nor Illumi spared the other a second glance as their paths diverted. 

People stared at him as he headed between the longhouses. Two small children, bundled in warm pants and smocks, too young to recognise him, tore past, overtaking his stride. They shrieked as one tipped the other, then they raced back towards him, pink-cheeked and grinning, the leader’s long loose black hair streaking past. Killua’s heart squeezed with a flash of memory. Boots skidding on the ground, the scent of the grit they kicked up. Alluka’s giggles and his own gasps of laughter. Two decades ago, before everything fouled up. 

He took the stone steps down into the warriors’ mess. The air was redolent with the scent of fat and herbs. Smoke hung in the rafters, above noisy conversations and the clanking of bowls and spoons. A large group of warriors milled at the end of the hall, the stone wall past them tinted amber with the glow of the cooking fire. Killua muscled between the men and women, ignoring their curses (which ceased as soon as they realised who he was) to the table before the hearth, where food was being doled out. 

Tsubone, a huge and formidable elder warrior, served him, her two iron-grey plaits as severe as her expression. She looked disapprovingly down through her monocle at his hair and clothes. “You need to bathe, Killua dear.” But she spooned an extra hearty serve of salmon and vegetable stew into his bowl.

 He thanked her and took his place at a long table in front of a pitcher of weak cider, then ate without stopping until his belly was full. He glowered at anyone who tried to speak to him. It wasn’t clear if the majority of the warriors gave him a wide berth because of his expression or his sour smell. But he’d be bathing soon enough. The thought made him cease chewing for a moment. Huh. This might be his last meal.

Once he’d eaten, he simply left, and headed out the main gate. He refilled his waterskin in the river, then took the path back to his hut at a swift pace rather than a run, conserving his energy.  He’d need all his strength to survive. Because his brother was right. His last chance to find Gon now was to take to the sea in defiance of the curse.

Inside the hut, Killua changed, abandoning his cloak and shirt on the sleeping mat, since they’d only weigh him down if he got swept from his boat into the ocean. He stored his club in one of the chests, the only one with a lock, and tied the key to the waist of his pants, a ragged but fresh pair he was glad to change into after three days. They were light, suitable for wading and boats, since he’d cut them off just above his knees.

When he left the hut, Sparrow shrieked and swooped down at him. 

“You trying to warn me off, girl?” he asked, as he pushed his way through stiff, strappy flax leaves a few feet taller than him to a small cave in the cliff just above the dunes. “Well, I don’t have a choice.”

He dragged out the small wide-bottomed canoe he’d stolen from his village’s ancestral moorings more than two years ago, soon after he’d left them. It’d taken him a whole day to work with the tides to paddle it through the shallows and drag it over rocks and along the shore without being seen, until he reached his own bay. 

There were two low seats inside and wooden struts all the way down, framing the hull and bored with holes to make it easy to lash objects down. He took one of the coils of rope he’d pinched and threaded an end through the lowest of the holes, pulling it across the breadth of the hull a couple of times and securing it tightly. He might need to secure himself at some point. 

The wind raised goosebumps on his skin as he hauled the boat down the sand and into the water. When the sea reached his knees, he gave the hull a running shove towards the waves and leapt in. He took up the paddle and stroked to each side in turn, pulling away from the shore.

Until now, he’d been trying not to dwell on his previous experiences with the curse. It wasn’t going to help. But as waves slapped the hull and rocked him, the pit of his stomach grew queasy. When he’d first tested his limits, heading for the islands to reunite with Alluka, it had been a clear, blue-skied day, unlike now. That hadn’t stopped the clouds and wind emerging from nowhere. Later, he’d repeated the effort to show Gon what would happen. Teaching Gon to paddle had been fun, and they’d made it out further with him helping to control the boat. But they’d turned back when there was no doubt the storm would grow so ferocious, they’d lose the canoe and the oversized waves might drown him before Gon could get him out of there. 

But today… 

It didn’t matter how close he came to drowning. He needed to find Gon—or even just get to where Gon might hear him. 

He aimed the prow towards the Monae Islands on the horizon. Gon was most likely somewhere along that path. They shimmered in the haze, only clear when he peered at them through a hole in his fist. Gon had said his island was kept safe from land-bound humans by dangerous currents. Killua could only dream of ever getting that far.

He was still paddling between the two headlands when the first breath of magic lifted the hairs on his arms. He ignored it. Soon he’d pass the furthest reaches of the rocks. Possibly, the same limit that cut him off from the ocean also cut Gon off from land.

He could only hope so. 

Gon might waiting somewhere along that limit—if he hadn’t given up after three nights. He would’ve fought to come as close to shore as he could that first night, Killua was sure. Unless—he couldn’t bear to.

Fuck. What if Gon didn’t want to face him after having that choice forced on him? He might be feeling ashamed, even though Killua would never expect him to give up everything. He might even imagine Killua hated him. 

Sweet Tehun. He dug the paddle deep into the water. He had to find Gon, even if they couldn’t be together. He couldn’t stand that thoughts like those might be eating Gon away—yet another form of poison. At the very least, he had to tell Gon he loved him and forgave him.

The swell carried him up higher than before—the height of a man. As the hull slid down the other side, his stomach floated into his chest. Water cracked against the timbers. Peering over the side past the gunwale, Killua could still see through the surface all the way down to where the boat’s shadow rippled over green-hued sand and seaweed covered rocks. Tiny silver fish flickered through them. It was more than deep enough to drown him. 

The paddle tugged at his grip as the far end sloshed, caught in a wave. He tightened his fingers around the shaft. The voices inside his skull were rising—those of the dead Illumi had harnessed to him. His face tingled as his blood drained away, and his muscles tensed. The curse wouldn’t work without the power of their sacrificed lives. Now they were warning him. They didn’t use words. His skull vibrated with their cries. He wanted to turn back. 

But if he did, he’d never see Gon again. He clenched his teeth and tried to block the voices out, putting his back and shoulders into stroking through the increasingly high sea as the wind bit at his cheeks and ribs. 

“Curse you, Illumi!” he spat. 

He’d had a recurring nightmare ever since the spirits joined to him. Even as he dug through the water, he could sense himself lying drowned below among the rocks, his trapped spirit conscious of the fish nibbling the flesh from his bones. 

“That’s not going to happen. I’m going to find Gon.”

The sense of magic crawled up his spine. Mist was lifting from the waves, rapidly gathering and thickening. As he scanned his surroundings, he could just see he’d reached the limits of the headlands, but as he watched, the headland vanished. Past the white crests of the waves, the horizon was moving nearer, the world closing in around and above him like the white interior of a shell. The islands had disappeared. 

Fog wrapped the back of his neck like his brother’s long-fingered, icy hand. Wind tossed through it in ghostly eddies and whipped his hair around his face. Slowly, the fog turned from white to dull grey. But he could still see the pinnacle ahead, a tall, thick shadow towering above the peaks of the waves. 

So long as he aimed at that, he’d be heading in the right direction.

He hauled in a deep breath, remembering how he’d teased Gon when they named it. He plunged the oar down, pulling towards it. Cock Rock held a shared memory, even if they’d been mucking around like idiots. It wasn’t the estuary or the cavern, but it had meaning. And, it was in Gon’s territory. He might be there now, waiting—even though they both knew Killua had never made it out that far.

A ten foot wave broke over the boat, drenching Killua’s face, violently rocking the hull. Blinded, he thrust his feet hard forward, hooking them under the rope he’d prepared earlier. He clutched the paddle, heart pounding, blinking away the sting of salt until he could see. At the bottom of the hull, water sloshed around his ankles, along with a scoop tied into it for bailing, which he should be using.

But the storm was picking up too fast, just as it had each time before. His muscles strained to keep the hull from tipping too far as he dug his paddle into the curl of a fifteen foot wave, though the sea had been almost calm when he left the shore. The boat shot through the foaming peak, he glimpsed the pinnacle again. He crashed down into a trough and the hull shuddered and wallowed. He could hear nothing but water crashing; see nothing but the roiling surfaces of waves. The next one loomed even larger.  He ducked, pulling the oar into the boat. The sea crashed over his head and swallowed him.

Tehun—help me!  

As the force of the water lifted him from his seat, the tops of his feet strained against the rope. He clutched the paddle with both hands; if he lost it, he’d drown for sure. His pulse hammered in his ears, but through the tumult, he could also hear water tearing from the hull. He shot out the far side and slumped forward as the boat slid down. 

He flicked his dripping hair from his eyes and gasped a breath as he took up the paddle. “Well done!” he told his craft. She was well-made and hardy. He steered her up the side of the next wave. 

He was drenched and freezing, every muscle aching. Despite his best efforts, the hull was already half-full of water, only afloat because of its oil-drenched timber. Everywhere around him, the sea had turned a deep emerald green. Shadows flowed through the waves in long black streaks. Cursed spirits. He shuddered. His stomach rolled with dread as their voices howled inside him. 

He’d always turned back at this point, when the violence of the water made death feel certain. But Gon could be very close. Past the tops of the waves, spray exploded in a shining burst around the pinnacle. Killua pulled towards it with all the power he had. If he got that far, he’d have to be careful he didn’t smash onto it.

The clouds were low, an angry roiling grey, flickering with lightning. Past the crashing water, he could hear thunder. That was new. He gulped, imagining being struck.

Maybe he was already close enough for Gon to hear him.

“Gonnn!” he yelled, trying not to dwell on all the times Gon hadn’t answered. 

He locked his feet under the rope ahead, spreading his knees to brace as best he could as the hull lurched. White crests boiled high above him. Shadows swarmed through them like nests of worms. The voices screamed in his head and magic shivered through his skin and bones, deeply embedded in his body. 

“Fuck you, Illumi!” he screamed back, unable to swallow the horrible sour taste on the back of his tongue.

He could feel the magic calling the wind and sea to him—a perversion of the tug Gon had said he felt towards the ocean when his time on land was up. Illumi’s magic was always twisted, an inversion of how things should be. As he fought the sea, part of him fleetingly wondered if that aspect of the curse had called Gon to him. Maybe Gon had never had a real choice. Then, by breaking the taboo, Illumi had actually done the right thing. He’d freed Gon from a spell Killua had unintentionally used to trap him. 

Maybe Gon should never have been his.

The waves were too high, the wind too fierce. He wasn’t getting anywhere, forced to use the paddle just to keep from overturning. Tehun’s breath, this was bad. Spray stung his face, continually blinding him. When he cleared his eyes, the fog had thickened and the pinnacle had vanished. He could only just see past the prow. It took his gifted sense of balance and every muscle and reflex he possessed not to be completely overwhelmed.

A flash of lightning gave him a glimpse of a towering silhouette. Closer than before, but unreachable. Thunder boomed. 

“Gonnn!” Killua yelled. The wind snatched his voice and hurled water into his face. Water sloshed around his hips. Soon he’d sink. He’d found his limit, all right.

“Nanika!” he screamed, clutching the paddle with one hand and the gunwale with the other. The last thing he’d been focussing on until now was his scars, but now he concentrated on them, reaching for the familiar ache of her presence. The boat rolled. “Help me! Please!” 

He could feel nothing but the curse, its dark threads reaching from him, gathering the storm around him like a behemothic cloak. 

“Nanika! I have to find him!” 

Even if he could still turn back, where would he search? He turned in every direction. Only huge slopes of water slithering with shadows.

“Gonn! Can you hear me?”

There was thunder and howling wind and the song of the dead that screeched through his skull as he was pushed up giant swells only to crash even lower. The paddle wrenched his shoulders as he fought to stave off the inevitable. His palms burned where his calluses tore from them. 

His last chance was the wildness of the storm itself. Surely that must catch Gon’s attention. He’d know it could only be Killua’s curse.

But he might still not be out far enough for Gon to reach him. He’d not made the pinnacle. He had no way of knowing. 

“Gonn!” he screamed into the storm. “Please!”

He’d staked his life on this. But it was futile. The next wall of water loomed. All he could do was duck down as the prow pierced it. Then he was inside the wave, totally submerged. Water rushed past his face and body. He kept his feet jammed under the straining rope, but he lost his grip on the paddle. He grabbed the gunwales to either side. He thought he’d never surface, but the craft was buoyant and somehow pushed up through it. 

He gasped another breath. It made no difference. He was stuck here now, with no way back. The fog was so thick it was almost part of the sea. A strange euphoria pushed through him, and he laughed into the storm. The voices were meant to warn him so he wouldn’t die, but Illumi had underestimated how far he’d go to find Gon.

“Gonn!” he howled defiantly, as if he could match the storm’s power. If he was ever going to draw the eyes and ears of a sea-dweller, it would be now, as the source of all this tumult. Maybe he heard a voice. Maybe it was just he wanted that so badly. 

He stood, feet braced wide under the rope, arms wide for balance, as the water reached the rim of the hull. He kept balanced in a way no other warrior he’d known could have, winning a last chance for Gon to see him. 

“Gonn! Where are you?” 

A shout? Or just the storm again? 

Where the shadows touched his wet skin, they changed and spilled over him in silver trickles. For the first time, he could really see the magic. It slithered around him and tugged at him, helping him stay upright as it streamed into the storm. Lightning flashed, shining off the magic, surrounding him with a corona of light. Thunder sounded, like a cliff breaking. His whole body vibrated with the storm. He glared up into thick fog, past the magic that swirled across his face, that trickled into his mouth as he opened it, and screamed: “Gonnnn!“

The ocean fell on top of him, pushing him down. The rope tore away from his feet and he lost the boat. He was underwater, no chance of surfacing. His lungs were full, but his breath wasn't going to last as the current towed him down and down. The sound of the storm was muffled through the water that filled his ears. He stared up past his streaming hair and outstretched arms through the green, at the lightning flickering above the surface. He pulled and kicked for the surface as it receded.

He’d been willing to drown. He didn’t want the life Illumi and Silva had laid out for him. He didn’t want that. He had wanted his life with Gon.

But still, he reached up.

I regret nothing. Except—Gon, I wanted to see you again.

Art by Tasariel

Chapter Text

Killua kicked for the surface, desperately trying to swim up, but had no more control than a knot of seaweed over where he was swept. Dark spirits pulled him deeper, turning silver where they wound around his arms. He fought them, knowing truggling would consume his air faster, but if he didn’t fight, he’d die. His pulse hammered in his throat. He tried to relax against the panic. His lungs didn’t feel full enough. The place behind his collarbones began to pull in sharp jerks. He mustn’t—he mustn’t breathe!

Then the scars down his left side throbbed, then Nanika’s voice tore through his skull, scraping and grinding like endless rocks tumbling in the sea. A terrible fear of her made him want to curl into himself, and yet he hoped, as he kept pulling up. Would she grab him like she had years ago? He had no sense of how to swim towards her—her voice was everywhere. But through the green water, past the black streaks swirling above him, the glint of the surface was surely too far. How could she carry him there before he drowned?

Strong arms came around him from behind. But his windpipe spasmed and he let go of his breath and gasped—

And pulled in air—

He wasn’t yet dying. A warm mouth had closed bruisingly over his and he stared into golden irises. It wasn’t enough! His whole body spasmed as he tried to breathe deeper, but an iron grip around the back of his head held him in place. Through the bubbles spilling up from his nose, he stared back into Gon.

A haziness washed through him and his muscles twitched. Part of him knew he needed to control his body. He tried to focus on breathing out through his nose. Gon wound an arm around his ribs and pushed more air into his lungs. Blackness nudged the edges of his vision. Dimly, he felt Gon kick, then they were tearing upwards. 

They broke the surface as if the sea itself was spitting them out, and shot high above the waves. For a weightless moment, they hung suspended in the fog, and all he knew was Gon holding him. Killua gasped—a deep, true breath—and they plummeted back down.

He flung his arms around Gon’s neck as they fell. Spray hit his face but they moved with the sea, lifting with the huge waves instead of being deluged. “Killua,” Gon cried out brokenly against his ear, over and over. He hugged Gon hard, unable to speak, eyes hot with tears.

The storm continued as Gon dragged him back into the bay with an arm locked around his chest. The fog was thinning, but rain fell from grey clouds that hung low over the waves and stretched inland, past the dunes and scrub. Even with water heaving all around him, Killua could feel the thunder rumbling through his bones whenever the clouds flickered with lightning. But the storm didn’t matter anymore. None of this mattered. He wanted to laugh with the wild joy of it. At the taste of blood in his mouth from where Gon had crushed his lips against his teeth, a wild joy rose in his chest, a fierce laughter that burned at the back of his throat. They’d won, even against his curse.

Finally, Gon set him down in the shallows. They embraced tightly. He didn’t want to lose the feel of Gon for an instant. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Gon’s jaw. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Gon’s fingers bit into his ribs and twisted into his scalp as if he’d never let go. “Killua—how could you risk yourself like that?” 

The pain and wear in Gon’s voice was clear past the crashing waves. The last few days must have been just as hard on them both. The sea was still wild, surging from their hips to their shoulders. Weak from the ordeal, Killua leaned into Gon’s strength, and warmth spread through his insides. 

He winced as Gon landed a punch on his ribs. “Idiot! You nearly drowned yourself!”

“Yeah. Who’d drown themselves just to find you?”

“Killua…” Gon pulled back. His eyebrows were knitted with anger and his eyes were huge and dark. “You can’t die for my sake! What, what the fuck, were you thinking?”

“I had to risk drowning to find you. It was worth it— Oww!” Killua clutched his rib. “That hurt! Stop hitting me! You’re stronger in the water!”

“You’re not allowed to throw your life away! I only found you because of Nanika’s magic!” Gon’s chest heaved and his eyes were glossy.

Killua pulled him in again and buried his fingers in his hair when Gon pressed his face into his shoulder. His throat hurt. “Yeah, well, I was hoping either you or she would turn up.”

Gon lifted his eyes again. “I thought…” He shook his head slightly and heaved a breath. “I thought once you realised I wasn’t coming back, that you’d give up looking. Not just because of the curse. But because—because I left you.” His expression was anguished, his arms tight, fingers moving in a heavy caress on Killua’s back. “Killua, I never wanted to leave.”

Oh, Gon. He hadn’t wanted Killua to risk dying, yet hadn’t wanted him to give up either? “It’s okay,” Killua reassured him. “I knew you wouldn’t want to.” Gon calmed a little, nodding. “Tell me what happened. Illumi drugged me; I only know what he told me after.”

Gon frowned, stilling as he began to answer. “I was fast asleep, but I woke because there was something on my mouth, something wrong. When I opened my eyes, there was a man moving back from me in the dark. He had long black hair and dead things in his eyes—I guessed he was your brother. And he was holding a dagger. But I didn’t care about any of that.” Gon’s eyes flashed gold. “I’m so sorry. Killua, I—I couldn’t eat it. It took me by surprise—I just reacted—it made my stomach turn. I didn’t know what it was. I just spat the thing off my mouth and it landed on my chin—and that instant, the sea called me. I couldn’t break its command! Even when I threw the thing away, I had to go. I wanted to stay with you, but I couldn’t. I had to run, I couldn’t get there fast enough—I couldn’t even think! Killua—I should’ve resisted, I should’ve forced myself to swallow it, I’m so sorry, if I’d had time to think, I would’ve eaten it. I should’ve—”

“No! No—it’s okay! You couldn’t—“ he curved his hand around the back of Gon’s head and held him so they locked eyes. “I understand. You don’t need to say sorry. There’s nothing for me to forgive, okay?”

“But I am. I’m so sorry. I thought you—“ He looked away, towards the shore. “I  thought you’d hate—“

“No! I love you, okay? I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.” He chased Gon’s mouth and kissed him, ignoring the pain of his bruises. Gon pushed back up into his mouth desperately, teeth catching at him. When they parted, Killua pressed their brows together. Sea water was rolling down both their faces, and his lips felt raw with salt. “It’s alright. It’s good you ran. Sounds like Illumi planned to kill you if you ate that thing.”

Gon’s gaze darkened. “I wish I could’ve fought him.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. He would’ve beaten you and killed you. Guaranteed.”

“You’ve still never seen me fight for real.”

“Gon—you were on land.”

Gon heaved a deep breath and lowered his lashes, hiding his eyes. Cupping the back of Killua’s neck, he ran a finger along the ridge of Killua’s shoulder, making him shiver with warmth, despite the goosebumps that now covered him. 

“What’s this?” Gon asked, lifting his finger. A silver strand of magic trickled down it. “I saw it on you in the water.” He brought his finger to his lips—

“Don’t!”

Gon sucked it. “It’s magic. Powerful magic. Mm, tastes sweet.” 

Killua caught his wrist. “It’s part of my curse. You probably shouldn’t eat it, you dope. It’s made from dead people. It turns silver when it touches me.”

“I don’t remember it doing that when you showed me how your curse worked before.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it happened because I went out further this time.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“No. But it doesn’t matter.” He let go of Gon’s wrist and caught him around his waist, feeling him solid and whole. “Let’s go in, it’s freezing.” He wanted to be close, and to show Gon just how happy he was to have found him. “I feel strong enough to make it now.” 

“Killua, I—“ Gon gripped his shoulder and looked back up at him with a grim expression. “I can’t.”

A queasy feeling in his stomach and the scars down his side ached.  “Don’t be silly. You’re here now. You’re standing inside the bay, on the sand. Of course you can.”

“No, I—I can’t.” Gon slid his hands up Killua’s back, hooking their bodies together. “I can’t go any further.”

He laughed awkwardly. “No, you’re coming with me now—“

“Killlua—the only reason I can go this far is Nanika’s magic.”

There was a numb sensation in Killua’s chest, and he was suddenly short of breath. “No.” The ache in his scars was fading. Oh shit. He screwed his eyes shut against a shock of spray. “No!” He shook his head and gripped Gon tighter. “I’m not losing you—I’m not letting you go.”

“She broke past the sea’s magic so I could save you, but now it’s pulling me back.”

“Shit.” Killua realised that as he held onto Gon, bit by bit, they were being dragged out. But he’d gone all the way out, he’d faced the curse, he’d nearly drowned to get Gon back. He’d done everything. It had to be enough.

Another wave smacked over them. As it drained away, Gon staggered a whole step back toward the sea. He could usually fight the most powerful currents. 

Killua gripped him harder. “You can’t leave, you’re my husband. We’re bound together, we chose each other. We’ll make sure the taboo can never be broken again. We’ll fortify the hut, I’ll stay awake nights, I can sleep during the day. Better—we’ll move down the coast, further away—“

“None of that will work.“

“We have to fight this!“

“I am fighting it! I’m not strong enough!” 

Killua couldn’t feel anything beyond the normal pull of the sea, but he could feel Gon’s whole body shaking with the effort to resist.

“This can’t be happening.” He clung around Gon as tightly as a limpet and dug his feet into the sand as more waves crashed over them.

“The taboo’s been broken,” Gon bit out. He was crushing Killua’s ribs.

“But Nanika let you come this far!”

“She wants you to live. She needed me to breathe for you.”

Killua blinked against the spray, trying to hold back from sobbing. “Maybe. No one really understands her except Alluka. I wish she was here so I could ask her how to fix this.” 

“I’ve been trying.” Gon pressed the side of his head to Killua’s. Their cheekbones bumped painfully as the sea tugged them. “Every night, I’ve tried to come ashore, but I can’t get any further than Finger Rock.”

“Cock Rock,” Killua said roughly.

“Cock Rock.” Gon pressed a warm kiss to his ear, and a bittersweet pressure grew in Killua’s chest, because normally Gon would never back down. “I went to the elders and they all said it’s hopeless.”

“You found no clues? Like where I can start to look? Illumi has a library—did you stumble on lore of any kind? Any hint?”

“Nothing. No one’s ever found a way to undo a broken taboo.”

Killua tried to deepen his breathing as he lowered his gaze. Foam slid down the ropes of Gon’s black hair, shining in the stormlight. The wind was forcing droplets of water back over his shoulder, as if it would aid the sea in reclaiming him. This couldn’t be happening; this couldn’t be the end. “We must be able to see each other. What about the cavern? I can jump down if I know you’re there.”

“It’s surrounded by land.” Gon shifted, pressing their brows together again. “I can’t go there, not without Nanika’s help. I can’t get past your headlands.”

“Right.” There was a wrenching feeling in his chest as he looked down at Gon’s mouth. “So I have to take a boat out until I’m drowning every time I want to see you?”

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“I don’t either.”

“But, I want to see you.”

“Well, I guess almost drowning is better than nothing.” Killua couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. So this was how it would be from now on? “There’s another problem. My family want me to marry my betrothed.” He’d told Gon about her. “That’s why Illumi did this now.”

“You can’t do that.” Gon’s eyes burned, molten gold. “You’re my husband.

“Yet, you’re saying you belong to the sea. More than you do to me.” 

“It’s not like that!”

“But maybe it is!” He dug his fingers into Gon’s back. He couldn’t help himself, though his cheeks heated with shame. “I won’t marry her, because I’m bound to you. But you were already bound to the sea when we married. And you stayed that way—you couldn’t come to me for more than just a day or a night at a time. We’ve never had both at once. So maybe I was just fooling myself to think—” He broke off.

“The sea is part of me,” Gon said. “But so are you.” 

“It doesn’t feel like I am.” 

Gon’s eyes widened. “Don’t! You can’t say our marriage isn’t—isn’t real!”

How can it be real if I’m not allowed to keep you? Killua clamped his jaw shut. If the sea has more claim than me? 

They’d married, and he’d hoped, but he was stupid to think he could keep him. Gon was too good and made him too happy for this to be something he could keep. And yet he clung to Gon, refusing to let go as increment by slow increment, the sea dragged them backwards. 

He could feel the tremors running through Gon’s body as he resisted the sea with everything he had. His mouth twisted in pain. “Killua, don’t say that,” he pleaded.

“I won’t say goodbye.” Killua crushed his mouth to Gon’s again in a hard and possessive kiss, then drew back just far enough to speak. He met Gon’s eyes. “You are my husband and I won’t let you go.” 

Gon made an incoherent noise as they kissed again. Their mouths felt so hot together, compared to the cold of the sea. It seemed impossible the ocean could take him. He sucked and bit at Killua’s lips, making Killua’s breath hitch as the heat between them built, even in the midst of all this. His hands slipped and he dug his nails into Gon’s skin.

An unnatural current was sucking the sand from beneath their feet. 

“I love you, Killua,” Gon gasped. 

Killua tried to anchor his feet in the sand, but the sea heaved around them, dragging them both back. He leapt up and wrapped his legs around Gon’s hips, wanting to weigh him down. “I want to go with you.” 

“But you can’t,” Gon said, voice shaking with effort. “And don’t try to come to me. I might not be able to save you again.”

Eyes closing, Killua kissed him again. It might be all they had left. He kissed Gon with his whole heart. It had to last forever.

A wave crashed over them and his hands slipped. The ocean pushed between them, tearing at the grip of his arms and legs, wrenching Gon away. Forced underwater, Killua hit the sand and held his breath as he rolled. When he came up, kneeling in the water, Gon was nowhere to be seen amidst the waves. Foam and sand obscured everything beneath the churning surface.

Killua stumbled ashore and dropped to the sand. He sat, facing the sea, shivering, with the rain pelting his back. His wet pants were stiff and uncomfortable and his ribs hurt where Gon had bruised and scratched him. He wanted the pain to stay. He wanted more of it. He rested his elbows on his bent knees and slumped, letting his head drop. Water ran from his hair and nose and hit the wet sand below. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the phantom of Gon’s mouth and body against his, until the rain stole even that.

✧

Chapter Text

The soft sound of crashing waves that had once lulled Killua to sleep was now a new kind of torture. He tossed and turned on his mat, consumed by heavy, restless agony. If he slept, part of him still knew Gon wasn’t beside him. Gon was somewhere out there, under that vast, black surface. Killua’s stomach twisted and knotted. It still felt as if the sea was moving beneath him. He wanted to smash it like it had smashed him, to turn his back on it forever because it had taken Gon—and yet, he loved everything to do with the water and waves for the sake of the man they had brought him. Wrapping his arms around himself, even knowing it was ludicrous, he tried to imagine the feel of Gon’s embrace. In the dark, he breathed Gon’s name. Again and again, he relived the moment the sea had snatched Gon away.

Sheer exhaustion must have pulled him into a dreamless sleep eventually, because he jerked awake to a piercing barrage of scraping cries coming from outside. He recognised the sound instantly: Sparrow, diving at intruders, trying to drive them off. 

Human intruders…He couldn’t even summon the strength to groan, let alone grab his club, though he was lying on his side, easily able to reach. They could do what they liked to him—though he’d rather they just fucking pissed off. His limbs felt leaden. Why should he fight anyone when the odds of getting Gon back were impossible? He’d fought his curse and the sea—and he’d failed. It didn’t matter what else happened. 

He peered through a crack beneath his lashes at a shaft of light that shouldn’t have been crossing the floor. Someone was watching him. The light led to the doorway and the silhouette of a hooded, broad-shouldered figure holding the flap aside. A large red jewel glimmered in the brooch holding his cloak shut. It belonged to Gotoh, one the most senior warriors in the village.

Killua still didn’t move, maintaining his slow and even breathing in the unlikely hope that Gotoh would just leave. Meanwhile, the knowledge he’d lost Gon scraped through his insides like a gutting knife. 

“Master Killua,” Gotoh said, his deep voice unhurried.

Outside, Sparrow was still shrieking. There was the occasional scuff of a boot amidst the usual rustle of the flax. How many warriors had Gotoh brought with him? 

It didn’t matter. Killua said nothing.

Gotoh pulled his hood back, revealing black hair tied severely back from his widow’s peak, and bowed, but refrained from entering. “With respect, Master Killua.” 

“Go away,” Killua rasped.

“Your Lady Mother ordered me to find you when we saw the storm.” A threatening undertone coloured Gotoh’s words, though his expression remained neutral.

Groaning at last, Killua flopped over onto his back. “I guess I should have expected visitors.” He let his eyelids rise half-way and stared at Gotoh from beneath them. “You can tell her I’m still alive. Now leave.”

“Sir. Did you find your friend?”

Killua forced himself up onto his elbows. “You mean Gon. My husband. What’s it to you?”

Gotoh’s long narrow eyes swept down Killua, inspecting his bared torso to his waist where the blankets still covered him. 

Most people found Gotoh intimidating. His stern forehead and bony cheeks gave him a hardened appearance, enhanced by the discipline of his immaculately trimmed beard. His lower lip typically curled slightly, giving him an expression of disdain. However, Killua had known Gotoh since boyhood. Though they weren’t blood, Gotoh was probably the closest thing he had to an uncle, caring for him in subtle ways. He’d never trust Gotoh to serve him ahead of his father or mother, but he didn’t miss the edge of concern that passed over the man’s face.

“Master Killua, we are all concerned for your well-being.”

Gotoh well might be. However, the bruises and scratches that covered Killua’s skin were minor, nothing that would worry anyone in his family. Having confirmed Killua had survived, Gotoh should now leave. That he wasn’t meant that he must have other orders.

“No,” Killua said, after a thoughtful pause. “Your concern is whether or not you need to kill Gon. I imagine my father and Illumi wish to know if I found him so they can decide.”

Gotoh’s eyes narrowed further. “It would be a challenge for us to find him in the ocean.”

“That won’t stop them ordering his murder.”

 “Master Killua, with respect. Did you find him?” 

 Killua sighed heavily. “Ask as many times as you like. It’ll get you nowhere—I’m not going to start reporting to you or anyone.”

 “I understand, sir. Nevertheless. I must inform you that yesterday, the Lady Kikyo was frantic. She witnessed the wind tearing trees down along the river and she fears for your survival. She insists you return home, to ease her heart.”

Killua’s disbelief grew until he snorted. “If she was really concerned about me, she could have come here herself—she’s capable. You’re telling me, my mother thought I might have died, yet she still wouldn’t muddy her skirts. Let’s not pretend she’s worried about anything but her plans for my marriage. Did she instruct you to bring me back if you found me?”

“She approved ten warriors for that purpose.” 

He mightn’t care what happened to him now, but in no way did he wish to please his mother. “Well, that’s a waste. Father said I could stay until I’m satisfied Gon has truly left.”

“Because of the storm, Lady Kikyo believes—if you survived—that you must have completed your search.”

“Huh.” Killua stared down at the blankets draped across his abdomen. He pulled in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Then he met Gotoh’s eyes. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what my mother feels. None of my family give a shit about my feelings. I’m not returning.”

Gotoh frowned. “I do not wish to hurt you, Master Killua.”

“Then don’t,” Killua snapped. A familiar anger rose inside him. They’d denied him everything that mattered. He would give them nothing. “Gotoh, I’ve known you my whole life. I know you’d rather not hurt me. But right now—I feel like I’ve lost my reason to live. So if you try to take me back to the village, I will fight you so hard, you’ll be forced to kill me. Because I don’t care anymore. So enough with the bullshit threats. I’m not cooperating. Just tell me the situation.”

He held Gotoh’s gaze with a long flat stare. Muscles tightened across Gotoh’s  temple and jaw. He shifted in the doorway, clenched fist visible behind the edge of his cloak, knuckles flexing as he subtly manoeuvred the metallic discs he sometimes used as weapons. 

“All I need do,” Killua said, “is put one of my eyes in the path of one of your coins. Or move my chest into the thrust of a spear. Whatever.” He smiled coldly. “Don’t test me. Right now, it would be easy.”

Gotoh winced and frowned down at Killua’s blankets. His fist vanished beneath his cloak again. “You wish me to take a beating on your behalf.”

“I’m afraid so. But from a subordinate, I expect.”

Killua waited, making no move to rise into a more defensive position, while Gotoh considered him again. If Gotoh attacked with his bare hands, Killua might be in trouble. Though he was confident he could defend himself against Gotoh alone, resisting ten other warriors at the same time would be impossible. It would be all over if Gotoh managed to choke him unconscious. 

The silence between them stretched, interrupted only by the flap of the skins covering the window and door.

Then Gotoh inclined his head. “Very well. If I must.” Killua caught the play of amusement across his lips. Everyone but Killua’s family was subordinate to Gotoh, and Kikyo would never honour him by beating him herself. A beating from a lower ranked warrior was a mark of humiliation, but any subordinate of Gotoh’s would be too intimidated to do much physical harm. 

“You are right,” Gotoh continued, relaxing his stance. “If your parents were united in this, I would have to bring you back. However, Lord Silva expects that you haven’t resigned yourself to your…husband’s absence yet. Because you have inherited his own stubborn nature.” A wicked smile spread Gotoh’s lips wide and his dark eyes gleamed. “You impressed your father with the violence of the storm this time. He was certain you had survived. But your brother is angry.” He rolled his shoulders back and folded his arms. “I believe the Guardian Mage’s patience will last, at most, five days.”

“Five days. Not long.”

“That is my estimate.”

“I see. Thank you, Gotoh.”

Gotoh bowed again. “Good luck, Master Killua.”

✧

All Killua wanted when Gotoh left was to curl back up into oblivion. But he couldn’t. Daylight was bursting in beneath the skins as they flapped, a reminder he had little time in which to act. Even if he accepted he’d never see Gon again, he would not let anyone compel him to return to his village. He would not betray Gon by allowing himself to be forced into another marriage—and he’d die before he let Illumi get his cold corpse-like hands on him to take his memories of Gon.

He sat up and pulled on the same pants he’d been wearing yesterday, although they were still damp, and his only other shirt (as worn as the one he discarded, but less filthy). He added his tough leather vest for extra warmth, then unlocked the chest that held his dragonbone club, and along with a cloth bag he’d stitched together himself, slung the weapon at his hip in case of more unwelcome visitors.

He didn’t feel like eating, but he had to have something if he was going to maintain his strength. 

As he left the hut and headed down the dunes, there was a flurry of wing beats and Sparrow arrived at his shoulder. She squawked, her talons digging into his vest, which he was glad for, since she’d long ago worn holes in his shirt.

“Hey— Whoa!” He pulled away from her jabbing beak, rubbing the fresh wound she’d inflicted just above his ear. “Stop that!” It reminded him of how Gon had punched his ribs. “All right,” he admitted, eyeing her sideways. “I wasn’t fine yesterday. And I’m still not okay. But I am still alive. Satisfied?” 

Her feathers ruffled as she plumped herself up, making herself at home. But the shake of her head gave Killua the distinct sense she was unimpressed.

“And Gon’s alive, too,” he added for good measure. At least he knew for sure now. That alone had been worth the risk of drowning. Illumi could easily have lied. 

Sparrow stayed with him as he trudged over stones, seaweed and torn twigs and leaves that littered the sand, heading for the rocks at the end of the bay. The sky had cleared and the waves were moderate, only dangerous if you couldn’t swim. They broke over the rocks and surged across them into tidal pools. He searched the pools until he’d bagged several brown crabs, killing them instantly by pulling their legs and pincers wide to expose their heads, then smashing them down onto stone.

Returning to the hut, he forced himself through the motions to build a fire on the ashes of the old one he’d shared with Gon. The first time in an age he’d done this without expecting Gon to come and join him.

He tossed the crabs still in their shells on top once he had enough embers, making them hiss with steam. Those crabs that had their meat exposed, he lay on fresh flax leaves. As he went to wrap them, Sparrow cried out, long and demanding, and flew down to the ground, watching his movements. He tossed her a raw chunk, then set the finished parcel at the edge of the fire to bake. As he watched the rest of the brown shells turn bright red, he bit his lip, remembering how Gon had run up here one dusk with a massive green-shelled crab for him from much deeper in the ocean. It had been fat, its body wider than Gon’s two spread hands, and it had reached as long as his arm when he spread it pincer to pincer.

The tightness in Killua’s chest wouldn’t go away. He was sitting on the log he usually shared with Gon, leaning on his knees. They’d cleared this area together so they could see between the flax and bushes straight through to the ocean, and he couldn’t stop looking up to the waves in the distance, as if Gon would come running from them any moment.

He shook his head and stared back down into the flames. He had to plan what to do. 

“If I was an outsider,” he said to Sparrow, “I’d tell myself to give up.” 

To say things were bad was a fucking understatement. How could he break through the magics that held him and Gon apart? If he knew how to break his curse, he would have done it many moons ago. He almost regretted that he’d stopped studying under Illumi ten years back. Almost.

And everyone in the village would be looking out for him now, expecting his return. He couldn’t go back there seeking knowledge from anyone who might be sympathetic, or from books outside Illumi’s keeping. They’d raise an alarm and he’d never escape. 

“You don’t have any ideas, do you?” he said gloomily, tossing a whole uncooked crab he’d saved and broken open in Sparrow’s direction. She shrieked as she jumped on it, and tore at the soft white flesh. “Greedy bird. I don’t know why I share with you. Your beak is mean enough. You should get your own food.”

He used a stick to drag the crabs from the fire. Once he could touch them without burning his fingers, he twisted off a pincer and sucked the hot meat straight from the end. Normally he’d enjoy the sweetness of it, but today he could barely taste it.

“Alluka…I wish you were here.” It helped so much when he could talk things through with her. But for her to return, he still had to bring Illumi down. A pang of guilt slid through his chest. Every plan he’d made until now had had too many flaws. But maybe he would’ve solved them somehow if he hadn’t let himself be so distracted—daydreaming about Gon when Gon wasn’t here.

He had no allies. He lacked the knowledge and power to deal with the magic of both his curse and the taboo. And he had… “Five fucking days.”

Tehun’s breath. It was impossible. 

Except, perhaps…for Nanika.

She had broken Gon’s binding when she sent him to rescue Killua. All he could think of now was to beg her favour like his ancestors had, before they’d grown afraid of her power.  

But she’d already done so much for him. And why would she listen? 

He forced himself to chew more crab and tossed the next empty shell into the fire. The embers snapped softly, shimmering with heat.

While it meant everything to him, his wish for him and Gon to be together seemed small and selfish compared to the wishes of his ancestors. They’d only gone to Nanika for significant things that affected the whole village—like the deaths of their enemies.

And what would his wish cost? All magic required balance. Illumi supplied that with his sacrifices to the greater spirits in Kukuroo. (Not to Tehun, though, the greatest of them. Illumi would never risk waking him. He was too careful for that.)

Much as Killua hated it, Illumi had a point. As guardian mage, he controlled his magic. Whether human or animal, he chose which lives he sacrificed. Whereas their ancestors had had no control the last time they’d begged Nanika for help.

He couldn’t ask for Gon back at the cost of unknown lives. But though Nanika was fearsome, she was kind. He knew that. She’d saved him twice now, and asked for nothing.

And she’d sent Gon to him. She knew where Gon was and she must know the two of them belonged together—or how else would she have known Gon would save him?

He’d heard her twice now since he’d lost Gon. At the shore where he’d first waited in vain for Gon, and again yesterday. That first time, he’d been sure she was trying to tell him something, but yesterday, she’d sounded angry. He’d assumed she was angry with him for almost drowning himself, but… What if there was something else going on? 

And if she wanted to tell him something, why had she ignored him at the cavern when he’d called to her?

Had he been too disrespectful? Demanding from her—not asking her the right way? After all…his ancestors had held ceremonies to beg her favour.

He frowned, chewing slowly. Few details of those had been passed down after the two hundred warriors had returned to shore as corpses. He’d never needed to know anyway—he’d always understood Alluka would be her priestess and would explain anything necessary. But, she wasn’t here.

Fuck, his mind was turning in circles. 

He stood, tossing the last remains of the crab shells into the flames. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He had to act. Hope in Nanika was all he had left. Even if he didn’t know how, he’d beg her favour.

“I have to find her,” he told Sparrow. And find out what she required from him. “And I can’t stay here.” In case Illumi came early to hunt him.

✧

The only place he could both find Nanika and hide from Illumi was the headland that concealed the cavern. It was in her territory, and the cliff at the edge of the headland held other caves which he could use for shelter. It was simply a matter of whether he could reach one. 

The sun had already passed its zenith by the time he emerged from the rata forest with his bundle of possessions. Icy air hammered in uninterrupted from the sea, bowing the tussocks in half. It didn't bode well for what he was about to attempt. He leaned forward into it nonetheless, stomach tightening with determination. After descending to refill his waterskin at the stream, he continued on past the dark mouth of the cavern.

At the edge of the cliff, he stopped and let his bundle fall to the ground. He refused to dwell on the frightening nature of the long drop just past his toes or the sense of vertigo it gave him. He pulled a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled as he stared out to the sea, vast and blue to the horizon. How did he dare fight such a thing? But he had to keep trying. 

He unfastened his cloak, rolled it up, then re-tied his bundle around it, stashing it inside. He would need all the flexibility he possessed, so he straightened and stretched his arms across his body one by one, then back and up behind his head. Cold pricks of moisture landed on his cheeks. Far below, the surf boomed, bursting into white clouds upon the jagged rocks. One mistake and he would die.

But this was the closest he could get to Nanika without risking the sea itself again.

Sparrow shrieked above him. 

“Sweet fucking Tehun…” He held out his arm and she settled on his leather wrist cuff below his rolled up sleeve, fluffing her feathers out and hunching into her shoulders. His vision blurred suddenly, and he clenched his jaw, feeling way too emotional towards the bird. Ever since he’d saved her, she’d stayed with him, through everything.

“Not diving at me this time?” he said. “Don’t want me to fall? You’re smarter than a bird should be. Are you a spirit sent to protect me?” She made a noise at the back of her throat as he stroked her soft brown feathers. “I don't see what you can do, being as small as you are. Maybe if you find a cave down there, you can tell me.” 

She twitched her head at him. He flung his arm up and she spiralled into the wind.

He re-tied his possessions to his back and checked everything was secure. The bundle was heavier than he’d have liked, but he couldn’t discard anything. It was filled with edible plants, fruits and potential offerings he hoped Nanika might like. He wiped his palms on his pants, then knelt and lowered himself over the edge of the cliff. 

An almost sheer drop. But there was nothing like danger to bring everything into focus. Every beat of the wind felt vibrant against his ears, every grain of rock seemed to sparkle with life. Wouldn’t Gon love it…

He had every reason to be confident he could do this. Killua kept his breathing even, his movements careful and controlled. His body rasped over the surface as his toes found ledges and his fingers sank into cracks. He’d honed his climbing skills on tall trees and smaller cliffs in the forest since he’d had to depend on only on himself to both hunt and stay safe from the larger, most dangerous predators.

Not that it was easy. The wind battered him and his bundle of possessions swung from his shoulders. The shifting weight tore at his fingers and toes. He had to flatten himself against the cliff to catch his breath whenever he found a wide enough ledge. 

The booming waves grew louder as he lowered himself, and his own sweat mixed with the spray, making his hands slippery. Whenever he could, he rubbed them on his pants to dry them.

His stomach roiled as he looked down the grey rock, searching for hints of darkness that could be the mouths of caves. The wind carried low shivery burbles from the cormorants whose nests were tucked into niches closer to the base of the cliff. Scraggly plants had found homes here and there, jutting out from crevices and narrow ledges white with birdshit. But when the cliff bulged, he couldn’t see far. His cheek was pressed to the surface. He could only go where he could feel for a path. The danger made it feel intimate, as if he pressed his cheek to the flank of a huge beast and the drum of the cavern inside the cliff was its heartbeat.

Soon he was hot all through, his own heart thumping with exertion. He’d only descended about a quarter of the way down. He wished he could have seen the cliff from below before he tried this, so he could’ve planned his climb. He wished he could see through Sparrow’s eyes as she swooped behind him.

Catching his breath at the next ledge, he traced his path back up to the clifftop and swallowed. If he couldn’t do this, he’d have to climb back. But where else could he find Nanika on land? 

He set his jaw. He could and would do this. Later, when everything had worked out, he’d tell Gon all about it. Gon would be impressed, then he’d probably insist they do it again, together.

His eyes grew hot with an unbidden memory. Clambering up over wet rocks with Gon and into the forest behind them, chasing sea lions who hid among the twisting grey trunks and mounds of fan-shaped leaves. Laughing as Gon pretended he was a sea lion and perfectly imitated their horrible bark. Telling Gon that he stank like a sea lion to make him pout and whine. (He’d never told Gon how adorable he found that.) Shrieking with laughter as Gon wrestled him to the ground and tried to press an armpit to his face. Fighting through Gon’s long black hair, inhaling the fresh salty scent of his neck—capturing the intoxicating heat of his mouth.

The wind brought Killua back when a gust nearly tore him from the cliff. Fuck, what was he thinking? Even when he stopped, he had to concentrate. He continued down slowly, wishing he didn’t need his possessions to survive the next few days. If he could, he’d let them take the dizzying fall and split on the distant black teeth. 

Instead, he burrowed his toes into a deeper crack and held tight to a protruding rock above, catching his breath again. 

A grinding sound. The rock in his hand shifted.

He flattened himself, dry-mouthed. The cliff face vibrated against his cheek from the force of the waves breaking within the cavern. Their hollow boom reached right through him as he held himself absolutely still. In front of his right eye, a strip of white quartz glistened. 

The stone under his toes was slick with spray and birdshit.

He held tighter, barely daring breathe. Another hard gust rocked the bundle on his back. A slow scraping, rasping sound, and the rock beneath his fingers shifted. Fuck, fuck. His toes weren’t enough.

 Sparrow shrieked—

 Everything slipped and the rock face streaked past.

Chapter Text

Killua looked down as he fell, absorbing any chance to avoid the jagged rocks below. Sparrow’s cry pierced his skull, she swooped so close, a flurry of feathers a few arms lengths away. Then rock knocked the air from his lungs, skidding up his front, tearing at his leather vest. He spread his arms, scrabbling for his life.

Stone slid past, barely slowing him. But the stubby grey trunk of a small tree hurtled towards him. He slapped at the rock, changing his direction, even if he couldn’t stop. He grabbed—and screamed as his shoulder was wrenched, almost torn from its socket. But he’d caught the trunk. Now he dangled from one hand, swinging as the wind buffeted him, pain ripping through his shoulder blade and right pectoral muscle. Shit, shit! The rope tying his bundle to his back was digging into the joint of his shoulder like a garotte. He fought to keep his fingers firm and rasped in lungfuls of air, fighting the black spots that floated in his vision.

His heart thundered louder than the wind in his ears. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he had to assess his situation before he did anything stupid—like panic. He could feel sweat gathering under his grip.

The crack in the cliff face that held the trunk was narrow, barely enough room for roots to spread. He could only pray the tree would hold. It bowed under his weight, thinner than his wrist, tilting an extra degree lower each time the wind pushed him. He had to grasp it with his other hand, without the sudden motion ripping it out. 

And he had to swing, like it or not, or he’d never reach high enough. He pulled in a breath—got you! 

The trunk lurched down, roots snapping. 

Sweet Tehun, please stay—

Hand over fist, he worked his way towards the cliff.

Another tearing noise; he jolted lower— 

Shallow breaths. Bark tearing at his palms. Sparrow shrieking—too close— 

Don’t panic. 

He licked his lips and scoured the grainy rock for a toehold. His possessions pulled at his shoulders. Sparrow flapped noisily; her feathers brushed his jaw. 

“Don’t!” he gritted out. “You’ll fucking kill me!”

 But then, as he angled his gaze towards her, he saw past the bulge of rock that had slowed his fall—a shadow that could be the edge of a cave mouth. “I see it!”

Sparrow fell back, giving him room.

If he could reach the cliff, it was only a short climb sideways and down. He edged along the trunk as carefully as possible, heart lurching in his throat each time the tree shifted. Its roots must have reached further back into the rock than he’d imagined, because somehow it stayed put. 

At the cliff wall, he found a ledge for his toes. He hugged the stone as he continued sideways, toes and fingers burning. Slowly, he moved around the bulge. His heart thudded loudly as the cave mouth came into view. Almost there.

Even when the threshold was a short distance below his feet, he still couldn’t bring himself to just drop. He slithered down carefully, the stone rasping along his vest until his feet found rock. Then he fell into the cave, onto his hands and knees. 

Safe.  

Well above the bite of the rocks below. He heaved deep breaths, shaking with the shock of survival, his eyes hot and smarting. Beneath his palms, the floor vibrated with the thunder from the cavern. It was loud, emerging from the darkness ahead. He fumbled to undo the bundle from his shoulders. It dropped beside him.

“Come here, Sparrow,” he said. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you. Found me a cave, just like I asked.” She hopped onto his lap and he lifted her gently in his palms. “You saved me.” He bowed his head and sucked in his lip, biting to stop his jaw trembling. He stroked her feathers. “You must be a spirit.” His throat was thick around the words. “You must be.” 

Beyond her, outside the cave mouth, spray exploded up from the promontory. It shone in the sun, obscuring the path his spirit had almost taken to the Monae Islands and beyond.

✧

If he’d fallen and died, Gon might never have found out. Killua mulled that over as he forced himself to eat some berries and took the time to recover. Gon would have continued waiting for Killua to come to him or he’d have kept fighting to return on his own, for who knew how long. And it would have been futile. 

The nightmare of not  knowing if something had happened to Gon was one he understood painfully well. But it would destroy Gon if he ever discovered Killua had died trying to reach him. For both their sakes, Killua had to be more careful.

Yet, with only five days, he couldn’t afford to take longer than absolutely necessary to be sure he could climb safely again. After a carefully judged break, he stretched out his muscles until he was satisfied his movements were fluid and strong. He then descended painstakingly from the cave to the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. 

Scratched and bruised by the time he reached them, he was finally in a position to judge the best routes up and down. Climbing was easier too, not having to lug all his possessions.

There was no shelter from the incoming wind, and it was cold, but he stripped completely and wrapped his leather vest around the rest of his clothes. It would be almost impossible to dry them in the dark damp cave, and he needed to be warm when he wasn’t being drenched by the spray at the end of the promontory. He then picked his way over the jagged surfaces as far out as he could manage without the breakers knocking him into the water. They thundered around him, splattering onto the stone and over his naked skin, almost as loud as the storm had been. He crouched, gripping onto upright ridges to avoid slipping as he searched for a rock he could use as an altar.

Finally, he found a low flat rock where he could lay offerings for the largest waves to snatch.

He smoothed his hand across the surface. This felt like the right place for such an appeal. Somewhere deep beneath him ran the tunnel between the cavern and the ocean, where Nanika had first saved him. Somewhere ahead, beyond the spray, was the underwater entrance Gon had drawn him through the night they’d first made love. Twice, his life had changed course here. It made sense that everything to come hung on what he did here now.

Shivering under the rain of spray, he poured through his memories of the one time he’d met Nanika face-to-face for any other clue about how to call her.

But the night he’d helped Alluka flee, neither of them had called to her. Alluka had told him Nanika was coming, and she had simply arrived, seemingly from nowhere. 

They’d been dangerously far from shore in the boat Killua had taken, the sea black all around except for moonlit ripples. It had been calm—he’d not yet been cursed. As he watched, a glowing white mist rose from the ocean and thickened. Within it, an opaque shape coalesced. Gradually, it sharpened into vast coils around them in the water, glittering with scales, iridescent with all the colours he’d later seen in the cavern: blues, greens, purples and pinks, giving off their own light until they disappeared into the mist behind Nanika. She stole his breath as she rose, beautiful and terrible, until she dwarfed them, setting their hull rocking with a nudge of her bony snout. 

He found himself white-knuckled, clutching the sides of the boat as her voice rolled through his mind with the softness of gravel tumbled in rushing water. She was huge!—Impossible! Light dripped from her scales, from her long pointed ears and spiralling horns. But the dark behind the elongated lids where her eyes should have been was a profound absence. Blacker than the depths of the guardian stone. Blacker than a starless night in the middle of nowhere. It made him shiver. He felt it was fathomless and beyond his understanding. It felt like the entrance to another place entirely, as if it would engulf and drown any other spirit.

Alluka pressed into his side with a joyful laugh, even as he wound his arm tightly around her waist. She met those eyes fearlessly, leaning to lay a long-fingered hand on smooth scales. She patted Nanika, then kissed Killua’s cheek. “Big brother, this isn’t goodbye.” 

“I promise, I’ll make sure it isn’t.” Chest tight, he hugged her once more, then he had to let her go. 

She stepped from the side of the boat, grabbing the bony protrusions along Nanika’s snout to help herself climb up. With a swish of skirts, she settled at the sea-serpent’s crown and gripped a horn in each hand. Her brows knotted and her expression grew fierce as she looked down at Killua. “I’ll return once you’ve dealt with Illumi.”  

He nodded, finding it hard to speak. “Stay safe, alright?” 

“You too. I love you, big brother.”

“I love you.” He swallowed and forced a smile, so she’d remember him like that. And then, because it seemed right and he was so grateful, he reached for Nanika himself. Her scales were slippery and cool as he ran his fingers down them. “Thank you. For keeping my sister safe.” 

When he sought Alluka’s face again, darkness swirled into the recesses of her eyes and mouth and Nanika smiled back. The simplicity and innocence of her smile tugged at his heart. 

He would never forget. It had been the last thing he’d expected, despite all Alluka had told him about Nanika. Remembering that smile, he felt he could ask Nanika anything. But—he ground his fingers into the rock—when he’d heard her yesterday, her voice had been pure fury. It had felt as though he had angered her—maybe with his disrespectful demands, maybe by risking drowning. 

While she was angry, she was unlikely to listen, so he needed to fix that.

To begin with, he would show his respect for her—just as he would if he were approaching his elders for their favour. He would groom himself well, remaining clean-shaven and keeping his hair neatly tied.

His memories gave no other hints of how to show respect. Except, he supposed, when he’d thrown himself down the hole, he’d been naked. That was something. It was practical, but there was also symbolism in continuing to wear only the scars wrought upon him by this very place. And no place, no combination of elements could be more sacred to himself or to her, especially when he intended to plead for Gon. He would show her he had nothing, baring himself to her mercy again.

As well, when he’d trained with Illumi to appeal to the mountain spirits, he’d had to purify himself. Usually by some kind of fasting; sometimes by eating or drinking particular things. His ancestors had probably prepared themselves thus before they approached Nanika, though any writings about it would have been burned. 

He would choose something that felt right, and hope she understood. Fasting wasn’t an option—he was too worn down and he’d be climbing back and forth from the cave if this didn’t work straight away. But one thing did feel right. He would only eat raw food. It felt more respectful than eating cooked food after that had broken the taboo. And since he needed to plead for Gon’s return, eating as Gon did also felt symbolic. Nanika should understand that. 

✧

Killua knelt by his altar, gripping the edge as seawater ran down his hair and naked body. It was the afternoon of the third day. Shivering, he pinched his lips together, trying not to curse. The waves had just refused to take his most valuable offering so far, the heart of a two hundred year old Nikau palm. He’d climbed its trunk, more than the height of six men, to carve the heart out, knowing it would kill the plant. The palms were were slow-growing and uncommon, their hearts an almost forbidden delicacy, only eaten on extraordinary occasions, and only by a single member of his own family or the warrior being honoured.

With this offering, he’d been trying to tell Nanika he considered her family. Which made the rejection worse when the waves pushed the pale green stalk back into a dark crevice in the rocks.

He closed his eyes, trying to feel past the freezing numbness of his skin to the scars running down his left side. Did he feel anything—anything at all—to indicate Nanika’s presence?

No. 

It’s okay. I haven’t done enough yet.

He pushed out a long breath through his nose. Even his gums were sore from ripping through tough raw fish that Gon (with his sharp teeth) had never had any problem with. He’d used up half his time to no avail and all his plants and fruit were gone. 

But, he had learned. He’d assumed things of the earth which Nanika couldn’t reach herself would be more valuable to her. Perhaps offerings from the sea might suit her nature better. 

✧

Returning to his altar at dusk, Killua spread a fat brown crab upon the flat surface, holding its legs and pincers wide as it wriggled. It’d been hard to catch without falling into the sea and potentially being dashed against the rocks, but the difficulty must increase its value. Carefully, he recited the ritual words remembered from his childhood, which he’d adapted to Nanika.

(Maybe nothing was working because he’d gotten the words wrong. Could one wrong word doom Gon and him?)

Don’t think that way!

He’d give up if he did. 

He smashed the handle of his dagger down on the crab’s head, then let it go. The next large wave broke over him and the altar. This time, the sea took his offering. 

He waited. 

There was only cold.

Still no sign of Nanika. 

“Shi—“

Mustn’t curse.

He blew another breath out. His stomach twinged, reminding him it was time to eat. Good—he couldn’t bear another moment staring at the hateful sea. He turned his back on the waves and slouched against his altar, pulling his knees into his chest for warmth. The cliff rose before him, amber in the sunset. All he could think of was Gon’s beautiful eyes.

The sun glinted from his dagger as he sliced the skin from one of the two fish he’d caught, then carved thin slivers of its raw flesh that he wouldn’t have to chew to swallow. Rather than waste his strength on another climb up to the cave, he would wait here until the moon rose. He kept himself limber and as warm as possible with exercises and stretches, letting the last of the sun soak his wet skin. He prayed vaguely remembered prayers, in case they helped, and new ones, straight from his heart, but his mind kept wandering back to Gon.

When the moon finally rose, he offered the fish he’d saved to Nanika. Some said she was present in the white reflections shining from the sea. The fish was already dead, which wasn’t ideal, and only small, but the size depended on his fortune when he fished.

The waves snatched it from the altar, and he waited in the dark and the thunder of the surf, dripping with salt water.

Still—he heard and felt nothing. 

His throat grew thick with unshed tears. Was he just wasting his time? The little time he had? He wiped his wrist across his eyes. He was bone-tired, growing weak. It was harder, knowing from what Gon had said on the beach that he might even be near. For all he knew, Gon could see him. He might be fighting to pass the barriers of the headlands. When Killua stared beyond the moon’s reflections, though, the water was black and felt as empty as Nanika’s eyes.

✧

He spent the morning of the fourth day fishing. He sought larger ones, which were few and far between. When he caught one, he sacrificed it live, slitting its throat open upon the altar. As the blood drained down the rock and washed away, he strained to hear Nanika’s voice through the wind and waves. He closed his eyes and opened his awareness to the faintest sensations running through his scars.

It felt like she was ignoring him.

He had only a day and a half left. Illumi would laugh with scorn if he could see him. He’d laugh at Killua’s ignorance, at his cobbled together rituals, at his delay in moving to more powerful living sacrifices to such a great spirit.

Killua hadn’t wanted to revisit that part of his training. However, his actions had slowly led in that direction. And the fish weren’t fucking working.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t want this,” he muttered, staring down at the pink traces on the stone. “I don’t think Gon would like it.” 

But he would understand that it was necessary.

Killua turned and eyed the cormorants’ nests near the base of the cliff. He was acutely aware of Sparrow’s gaze upon him from her perch on a taller peak, away from the impact of the breakers.

✧

Why did sacrificing a cormorant feel so bad? 

Holding the bird down on his altar with a hand over its sleek white breast, Killua felt torn. 

He’d always killed, whether to eat or trade, or in self-defence. His family’s business was killing people. Why did sacrificing this bird feel any different to sacrificing the crabs and fish?

Maybe it was because it was warm under his palm and he could feel its heart trembling. Its black wings beat against his far stronger wrist as spray landed and shone upon them both. Quivery high-pitched protests spilled from its light brown beak. It thrashed its head, staring at him from one blue-ringed eye, then the other.

Maybe it was because he’d struggled just as hard to live so recently. He knew how it felt. And last time, he’d been saved by a bird.

Tehun’s breath.

He’d never taken notice of the bright amber patch between those eyes before, though he’d seen cormorants so many times. Fuck, why did everything remind him of the liquid gold in Gon's eyes?

Killua’s breath hitched. He had to secure his grip on his dagger.

And the cormorant’s fellows ignored it. All around the promontory, they dove deep into the sea, flashes of black and white piercing the swell behind the shining bursts of spray, and re-emerged with flapping silver fish in their beaks.

They were all killers, like him.

This poor creature was insignificant, even among its own.

He spoke the words of his ritual. They came easily now he’d said them so many times. He placed his blade against the bird's throat. The cormorant twitched in his hand, still struggling uselessly to persuade him to release it. The fine white feathers lining its neck caught on the steel.

How was it balance that he was begging for mercy, but would offer none?

Must not doubt.

He felt the assault of the memory he’d tried to bury long ago, and pushed it away.

Gon, I will find you again.

Killua sliced, a strong lethal stroke that crunched through the bird’s throat, cutting off its cries. Blood spilled across the stone.

He stepped back, hands dropping to his sides, and waited for the waves. He bit his lip, still feeling creature’s warmth against his fingers, and its blood, dripping from the tip of his dagger, running down his bare thigh.

The next wave smashed down over the rocks. It snatched the bird and left the altar clean as if the creature had never existed. Its body tumbled somewhere in the foam.

Killua swallowed hard, pushing down a choking feeling. This shouldn’t affect him. The only connection he had with the bird was the intimacy of dealing its death. 

He waited. There was pain in his chest and stomach, but not his scars.

What had he expected? A whisper in his head, or Nanika rising out of the waves? Just because of an ordinary bird? There was only the surf’s thunder. 

Sparrow shrieked behind him, and he turned towards the sound as she took off into the sky. She rose higher than the cormorants, then plummeted down past the end of the promontory, although she wasn’t a sea bird. 

When she rose back into the air, she held the cormorant’s body in her talons. Killua watched her land on her chosen peak. She sank her claws into the breast and tore into it with her beak, tipping her head back to gulp down a string of bloody tissue.

Somehow that made him feel better. His sacrifice hadn’t reached Nanika, but at least the cormorant served some purpose, reclaimed by the larger circle of life and death.

But what was he meant to do now? He was running out of options. Was he disrespecting Nanika to offer such small things? He couldn’t hunt larger beasts and get them down the cliff. He definitely couldn’t offer them alive.

No, he had to give her something that mattered more to him. Something that would cost him if he hoped to gain something back for himself.

A true sacrifice.

Something he’d avoided this entire time.

A sick foreboding filled him as he remembered sacrificing his pet dog, Molly. He had never forgiven them for coercing him to do that. He’d never forgiven himself either, really, although he knew, looking back, he’d been so small and driven by deprivation. His family had tried to teach him not to have feelings for others, to make him stronger and to ensure his loyalty was sound. He was not to grow attached outside their circle. He could not keep others he loved. 

He had suffered, losing Gon and Alluka, but the one thing he hadn’t felt was surprise.

And yet he could not extinguish that last, obstinately struggling flame of hope that kept him going before he’d tried everything. Maybe, just maybe, that was why she had come to him and stayed this whole time. She mattered, but Gon mattered more.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

✧

The least he could do was let her finish her meal. He hadn’t meant to kill the cormorant for her sake, but he had provided it nonetheless, as he’d provided so many of her meals since he’d saved her as a draggled fluffy grey chick from the remains of her nest.

When he held out his wrist and called her, she swooped over the rocks and hopped on. Her talons dug into his bare skin and she crooned at him, then pecked at her brown and white feathers, grooming herself.

“You should have left me after I saved you,” he said. “You should have flown away and found a mate.” 

He’d returned her life to her, and she’d repaid him for that only three days ago, showing him the cave. He’d needed to recover his strength after falling. He wouldn’t have made it much further down the cliff in the wrong direction. But she’d saved him in other ways, before he’d met Gon. She’d been there so he didn’t go mad talking to himself, and—

“You let me care for you. After I lost Alluka.” He hadn’t known it then, but after he’d met Gon, he’d realised how he’d needed to care for someone other than himself. “And you were never greedy.” No matter how many times he’d accused her in jest. Every time he’d shared his food with her had been a gift to him.

And now, he was giving her to Nanika.

“Nanika is kind.” The wind was ruffling her feathers, and he smoothed them for her. “When you go to her, she’ll care for you, like I have. Better. Because she saves people. She’s saved me twice, and she saved Alluka.” He swallowed awkwardly. “You don’t need to fear her.”

He brought her down to his altar while she still sat on his wrist. “Gonna put you on your back now. It’s okay.” An unnatural position for any bird, yet she lay where he placed her, spreading her wings as if she were drying them in the sun. Her feathers shone, solid brown along the upper bones of her wings, fanning out in charcoal and white stripes below. 

"You're hardly even struggling.” He sucked his lip in.

She turned her head sideways and stared up at him with her yellow-rimmed, unmoving, glossy black eye. He placed his blade at her throat, below her hooked beak, where her feathers were pale like cream. 

He steeled himself and spoke the ritual.

It was hard to keep his voice firm. He had to push the words out. His throat felt thick, as though it was trying to close around them. His lips felt numb. The words tasted like mud. Sparrow clacked her beak and wriggled under his blade. Her heart pattered under his palm. She was soft and warm.

His words delivered, his breathing grew shallow.

Best make it quick.

“It’s okay, girl.” He clenched the dagger. 

She turned her head and stared at him with her other eye.

Fuck.

He just had to—

No.

A wave broke over them both. As it drained away, he had to blink the salt from his eyes. He clenched his jaw. 

“Fuck this!” He lifted his hand away. “Go! Just go!” 

He couldn’t—he wouldn’t kill what he loved.

✧

Killua couldn’t bring himself to return to the cave after his failure. He sat on his altar disrespectfully (what was the point, when he’d run out of options?), dangling his legs over the edge and hugging himself against the cold. Dusk was already falling and he only had one day left. 

How could this be it? All he could do?

He would sit here until he figured something out.

Perhaps relying on the rituals he’d learned with Illumi just wasn’t the answer. They’d never been meant for Nanika. He’d only been guessing they’d work, and nothing had happened to confirm that guess. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she wouldn’t have wanted him to kill Sparrow either. He was as small as a bird compared to her. He could understand her less than Sparrow understood him. And it didn’t match the fact that she’d saved him. 

When he thought back, everything he valued in his life had come about because he’d loved another. Loving Alluka had helped him endure the years before he left his family. He’d lost her, but if his love for her hadn’t led to him rejecting his village, he’d never have met Gon. And when he’d dared love Gon, despite all the old stories and their tragedies, Gon had loved him back. His whole world had changed. Their time together had been like a warm summer; blissful, even through winter. Even if he had lost Gon, he was so happy to have loved him.

To kill Sparrow would have been the worst kind of betrayal. In line with everything his family had taught him, but opposing all he’d learned himself. To love and be loved by another—even a bird or spirit—was a gift.

Illumi had smothered any ability he’d had to feel any true sense of that emotion. Killua understood why, better than anyone. They’d both been trained the same way as Silva had been. Despite which, they’d all turned out differently.

Everyone thought Illumi was strong, because outside family, he could kill anyone or anything without a thought. He didn’t hesitate because to him, no one outside family was worth anything. He’d cut his emotions away. Which meant he was weak. Not strong enough to let himself feel.

He had no real courage. Not like Alluka, who felt strongly for others and stood against him, no matter her lack of training.

In a sense, Killua was stronger than Illumi—refusing to kill Sparrow showed that. His heart was stronger because he’d refused to let them crush it into non-existence. 

If only that counted for something. If only it was enough to change things.

Right now, he could only feel vice-like pain. He’d run out of prayers and rituals. He was no closer to Gon than he'd been the night he’d lost him.

Just as he had then, he watched as the sun slowly turned the horizon to fire. The cormorants warbled behind him, settling into their roosts. Illumi would be sending people for him soon, if he hadn't already. 

He didn't know what else to do. His body was numb, beaten into submission by the wind and waves. He felt the same heaviness he had back in the hut before Gotoh came, except now he was colder, hungrier, weaker.

Eventually the birds fell silent. Darkness reached across the sky. The moon rose, yet again. White reflections rippled around the promontory.

He braced his hands on the cold wet rock to either side of his thighs. He had nothing left to offer. He was done. 

"Nanika!” he cried out, one last time. “Is there anything you want from me?"

Nothing.

He clambered to his feet, stiff with cold. “Nanika—I don't know what to say! Or what to do! You gave my life back twice. You must have had a reason. Show me what you want!"

The sea swelled below the edge of the rocks. He was out past the altar, where he had nothing left to shield him from the surf. If he fell, he'd be smashed like he had been in the cavern. Was that the only way to call her? By trying to kill himself?

"Nanika! Speak to me!”

He was groping blindly. Reaching for the impossible—Gon’s return—and maybe that was why she wasn’t answering. But he needed Gon. And Gon had looked so distraught when he’d said, I thought you would have given up. 

So he wouldn’t give up until he had to flee this place. He would not do that to Gon. He would scream out uselessly until his voice left him. Even if he was shouting at nothing.

Another wave hit him and he slipped. He caught a stone ridge and just managed to stop being swept into the sea. Shit. If he fell here— 

Maybe Nanika would save him again. Was that what she wanted? His life, for the third time?

The third time.

Everyone knew the third time was magic.

Wouldn't it render all of this pointless if he sacrificed himself to her? But he had nothing else. 

She wouldn’t let him die. Was it a test?

“Nanika! Is it me you want? My life for the third time?”

He waited, chest heaving, fists clenched tight. 

And his scars began to throb. 

Fuck.

The sea glowed with the softest white light.

He gulped.

She was coming to him, and the glow was spreading. The water was turning green, lit from underneath. 

She was here.

Chapter Text

As glowing mist rose into the night, thickening all around the promontory, Nanika’s voice roared into Killua’s skull. Though he couldn’t yet see her form and had no hope of understanding her words, her anger was palpable. His scars throbbed and he staggered back until he was braced against his altar. Heart pounding, he gripped his dagger and yelled: “You want me to prove myself? If I give myself to you again, will you give Gon back to me?”

Was that the balance needed for her magic to work? His gut twisted. Offering himself made more sense than anything else he’d tried, for such a wish.

A wave burst across the rocks and hit him. He clutched at the altar behind him—he would not be pushed away like one of his rejected offerings. 

Her roar screamed through his head like a hurricane, and he dropped to his knees. Tehun’s breath—she hadn't been like this when he’d met her with Alluka. It made no sense. He’d nearly drowned trying to find Gon the other day, yet she hadn't let them stay together then—he’d even doubted her power to do so, thinking the sea must be stronger. But even though she’d had to intervene to save his life, that time wouldn’t count as an offering, since that hadn’t been his intention.

He wiped the back of his wrist across his eyes, clearing them of water, then gasped to see Nanika rising above the breakers. Her massive head reared, nostrils flaring, long ears flattened back and quivering, eyelids narrowing over empty black slits. Light dripped from her horns and down her scales. Her coils rolled back through the waves, stretching into the mist. Her jaw hinged down in his direction, exposing the full extent of her teeth, double rows of scimitars, glittering slashes caging the void behind them.

How could he think even for one moment that such a powerful being would be satisfied with anything less than his life? 

He had had no humility. None at all.

Well, if he was going to do this, he’d only have one chance to do it right. He could throw himself into the sea, but that didn’t feel like a sacrifice should. He was asking her to break the most powerful magic, so he must offer himself in the most powerful way he knew. Blood had power, Illumi had taught him. And the most powerful blood was human.

He licked his lips, tasting salt. How could he dream of asking her for anything without Alluka to stand between them? But he must if he wanted Gon back. He forced the words onto his tongue. “Nanika! Do you want my blood?”

She bowed closer, scaled lips pulling back in a snarl, the incomprehensible blackness of her eyes focused totally on him. It took courage he didn't know he possessed to continue to stand his ground before the altar. His head ached with her words—they felt thick and heavy with her fury. Mist billowed between the two of them. 

“I trust you, Nanika!” he yelled above the waves. “You have my sister! So if this is what you want from me, you can have it.“ 

He slid back onto the altar and knelt upon the flat stone, planting his knees firmly where he’d placed his other offerings. Then he lifted his dagger to his throat. His arm shook. He trusted that she’d save him—she wasn't like Illumi’s spirits. Still, there was no way this wouldn’t hurt. He’d have to force his will on every fibre in his body. 

But if it brought Gon back…

He clenched the handle and pressed the edge of the blade to his neck. It was cold. And a bit too blunt for his liking. This would probably leave him with another ugly scar once she’d healed him. 

His stomach clenched, and he gathered his courage, leading towards his ritual. “Nanika…You can hav—“

"Stop! Killua, stop—!”  

His hand froze. 

“Killua! Stop! Don't be stupid!"

Huh? He held the blade in place. Was he hallucinating after too much raw fish? “Gon?!”

“If you do that, you'll die!" Gon yelled.

"I know! That's the—the fucking point!" He could make Gon out now through the spray, in his seaweed skirt and armbands, the scales on his back catching Nanika’s light and glimmering through his long hair, his muscles flexing powerfully as he climbed one of her coils very much as Killua had the cliff. 

Drawing a shuddering breath, Killua relaxed his arm slightly. Had his sacrifices worked? His hand shook. Was this real? She was bringing Gon back to him?

He could have wept. Had she taken so long to arrive because she was fetching Gon? “You—you’re back!” He was blinking, confused as to whether to laugh or cry. But Gon wasn’t with him on land yet. After last time, he needed to see that. “Gon! The taboo magic— Is it undone?"

"Not yet!” Gon shouted, scrambling along Nanika's scales, hooking his fingers into them to pull himself forward towards her head and closer to Killua. “I heard her, and I knew you had to be the cause, so I called to her and tried to swim to her. It's her magic again! She’s letting me see you. Killua—I’m always near the coast. I’m trying to find a way, and I thought maybe because the cavern is sacred…but I can't even get this close on my own.”

Killua’s breath hitched. He pressed his lips tight. Nothing had changed. But of course it hadn’t—he still had to complete his ritual. 

He pulled his shoulders back. “Gon, I’m going to say some words, and then—don’t watch, okay? I’m sorry. I have to do this while Nanika’s here, to get you back, and it’s going to be alright, I’m not gonna die. See—she’s brought you here, ready.” He lifted the dagger to his throat. “She’s going to heal me, like when she gave you back your arm. I love yo—“ 

“What? No! No! You mustn’t! Wait—“ Gon slid under the water as Nanika’s body rolled. Killua trembled, holding the dagger. He needed to know Gon wouldn’t accidentally watch. When Gon rose above the waves again, still clinging to Nanika and climbing closer to her head, his eyes were wild, fixed desperately on Killua. “Nanika can’t—she can't restore life once it’s gone! Please, Killua, stop!"

“She—she can’t?“ 

Killua's blood ran cold. Fuck. He let his hand fall to his side, the dagger clinking stone. His strength seemed to drain into the rock, his biceps loosening and thighs weakening, until he slumped forward, hair falling around his face. 

He would have done it. Killed himself. It would all have been over. And Gon would have seen.

“Gon, I—I’m so sorry!” he cried out. "I don't know what to do, I think she wants something from me. But I can't understand what."

Gon hauled himself to the top of Nanika's head and lay there, grabbing a horn and wiping his other hand across his eyes, refusing to look directly at Killua. When he finally called out again, his voice was a hoarse wreck. “Killua, I told you—you mustn't die for me! Why, why would you do that?”

“I thought—if I sacrificed myself to her, it would create a balance. To bring you back.” Killua leaned on his fists, cheeks flooding with heat, and forced himself look up at Gon. “I didn't mean to stay dead. It's just, that's what Illumi does when he’s seeking great power from his spirits. It’s how he wrought my curse. I mean—he doesn’t kill himself, obviously.” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “This is the only way I know. I've offered her everything else I can think of."

 “Well, when you lowered your dagger, she settled.” Gon knitted his eyebrows. “I don't think she wants you to hurt yourself.” He flattened his hand over Nanika’s scales and stroked her.

Killua nodded and stared down at the rock which gleamed beneath his wet hands. Nanika’s light shone from the dripping strings of his hair where they’d escaped his tie, and from his pale chest and legs. He looked through the mist to her. She’d drawn closer, her vast opalescent coils shielding him from the worst of the waves. Spray rose, bright behind her. She was still rolling in the ocean, but her movements were calmer. Her unintelligible words were softer now, like windblown sand in his head, though he still felt them vibrate with tension. But there was more—they felt laden with concern. Maybe even the desire to comfort.

He scrubbed at his eyes. He was so tired: cold, wet and wrung out like an old cleaning rag, though seeing Gon again lit new warmth in his chest. “If I could just understand what she’s trying to tell me… But without Alluka, I can't."

“Well, maybe that's part of the problem.” Gon had pulled himself up to sit as Alluka once had, between Nanika’s horns. “Maybe she's frustrated, too. Mito says when I was small and couldn’t explain what I wanted, I used to get loud and angry."

“Did you?” Killua almost snorted a laugh. He pictured a small Gon, as determined and passionate as he was now, but with far fewer words. When he was frustrated, he would’ve been a mini-thunderstorm. And…Nanika’s voice had been like a storm. So had the sea, boiling around her when she arrived. “You're saying she's like a misunderstood child?" Still, he had to shake his head. Hard to fathom how a spirit who'd inhabited these waters since before his family had settled in the vale of Kukuroo could possibly be childlike.

Gon shrugged and kept rubbing the knobs on her crown, then ran his hand up the back of one of her long ears as he murmured something into it. Sweet Tehun. Killua’s chest swelled and he sighed deeply, biting his lip to contain the ache behind his sternum. Just look at Gon. This must be how he tamed monsters. He was fearless, though Nanika could crush him at will. She was hundreds of times his size, a fantastically powerful spirit—yet Gon had empathy for her.

Seeing Gon now, soothing Nanika and seeming to reach her, Killua could well understand how his own barriers had fallen that first day they’d met. He had threatened Gon, thinking him a wild spirit, but Killua been the hurting wild creature that Gon had soothed. 

Hard as it was, knowing Nanika’s agelessness and power, to wrap his mind around Gon’s suggestion, the more he considered it, the more it made sense. Alluka had been small when she first met Nanika. Perhaps that had made it easier for them to understand each other. Alluka had listened with her heart, and she’d responded the way young children did to one another, regardless of language. Strange as it was, maybe their minds had been similar.

If that was true… If Nanika was driven by frustration…

“She tried to speak to me,” Killua said, “that first day you were gone, and I didn’t understand her. Then she ignored me when I tried to call her—maybe because I wasn’t trying to figure out what she wanted. Then when I nearly drowned myself, I could feel she was angry with me for doing that—but maybe also because I couldn’t understand her, yet again. Without Alluka here—she’s frustrated every time she tries to communicate. So now—she hasn’t come to bring you back to me. She’s ignored me over the last few days because I keep doing the wrong things—and she can’t tell me. And she became furious just now when I was going to hurt myself. She’s here—and maybe she’s brought you here—to tell me to stop.”

She’d been screaming at him to stop. Killua lifted his fingers to his head. In his mind, her voice was now soft as foam. Because he’d finally understood. 

“Nanika—I’m so sorry. I should never have likened you to Illumi’s spirits.” As he said that, he flushed. “It was a terrible thing to do. I won’t offer myself to you like that again. I promise.”

Nanika turned to him directly, then tipped her head back, opening her jaw in a mournful cry, the first time Killua had heard her voice outside his head. The sound shivered like the wind reverberating through a mountain pass. It stretched, long and wild and lonely, and as beautiful and formidable as the coast itself. 

When it ceased, Killua felt tears on his cheeks. He’d drawn his knees up and was hugging himself. Her eyes were no longer narrowed at him. They were sad, but calmer, if such a thing could be read into their emptiness. She dipped her snout, bringing Gon closer. Not close enough to breach the gap between land and water, but Killua was grateful.

Gon lay flat on her crown, stroking her with both hands. “Killua—if you think there’s something she wants, you're probably right.” 

“Maybe. It’s just, I’ve tried everything I know.“

“There must be something you haven't tried. We know she doesn’t want you to kill yourself for her, but, it's not stupid to think she'd want some sort of an exchange. For—for me.” Gon lowered his eyes. “If she's capable of undoing the magic that keeps me here. The sea’s magic is the most powerful I know. But you know I don’t like dark magic, Killua. So even if that’s what she wants, you can't do that. You can't offer her a person."

Nanika’s ears flattened back and quivered.

"I would never do that.” Killua scowled. “I know it’s wrong.” And, that would taint everything between Gon and him from then on.

Gon nodded grimly.

But Nanika swung her head as if she was threatening to toss Gon off. He clung to her horns, biceps flexing with effort. Killua’s scars throbbed and he clutched the sides of his head as her voice rose and battered the inside of his skull.

“We can't!" He cast a despairing glance at Gon, fists clenching in frustration—he needed Alluka to talk Nanika down. Bitterly, he spat, “The only person I'd ever be willing to give her is Illumi!”

He meant it as exaggeration. He knew what human sacrifice meant. It wasn't like killing an enemy in battle, or even an assassination. There was a drawn out cruelty where the victim knew what was coming and that their spirit would be enslaved to the purpose of the magic so created. They might never travel to the land beyond. Death would not end their pain. And Killua felt it. The spirits bound to his curse never entirely left his awareness.

Yet, Nanika's coils stilled. He shivered under the weight of her stare.

“I think,” Gon said, “you may have found what she wants.” 

“I—Yeah." He swallowed, hard.

“He's your brother." Gon's eyes fell. They glittered darkly beneath his lashes, and his fist was tense around Nanika’s horn. 

Illumi. The one person both he and Gon hated. The person Gon had wanted to destroy since Killua had first spoken of him. “Yeah.”

“I understand,” Gon said, bowing his head so his hair curtained his features.

“Understand what?” Killua demanded.

“It's okay. I would never expect— I’m not worth—“ 

“Don’t.” His voice cracked. “You’re worth a thousand of him.”

“I know you were going to bring him down, Killua. But you were going to have him banished, weren’t you? You weren’t going to, to…I don’t expect—”

“You don’t know. I hadn’t finished planning.” 

And he’d taken so long to act, that Nanika had run out of patience.

Her head pitched abruptly down, and Gon slipped, losing his grip on one of her horns. “Killua—!” 

“Nanika, wait—don’t!” Killua leapt from the altar to the edge of the promontory. Gon had dug his fingers into Nanika’s scales and was trying to push himself back up, eyes round and desperate. The ocean swelled and her body lifted. “Gonnn! Hold on!”

 There was nothing he could do but watch as Nanika reared and tossed her horns, the one powerful motion flinging Gon off like a tangle of seaweed she’d finished playing with. He yelled in futile protest as he disappeared back into the spray behind her coils.

Nanika watched Killua with her sad, hollow eyes. 

His chest shuddered. If only she had waited. If only she’d let them say goodbye. He clenched his jaw, holding back any ill-advised words, trying to contain the wrenching sense of his grief. She had saved him from his own stupidity, and, if it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have seen Gon at all.

And why would she even think to let him and Gon say goodbye? She wasn’t human.

But she felt everything. 

“You miss her, don’t you,” Killua said. He had felt it all through her cry. He didn’t know how it worked between her and Alluka, but maybe they couldn’t be together properly while Alluka was in the islands, since Nanika’s territory was here. He gazed back into her eyes. “I’m so sorry you’re lonely, too.”

Of course, she couldn’t answer. But what she did next felt like one. Her scales lifted as if the wind blew them, peeling from her snout, her head and her coils in a glittering stream, revealing beneath them, emptiness. They broke into smaller and smaller fragments, her horns dissolving like sand, until she joined the mist, which drifted, its white glow slowly fading back into the sea.

The night was black again. Killua rubbed his wet arms and shivered, left with only the moonlit crests of the waves as they swelled in and out of existence. Gon was near. So near. Yet still held apart from him.

However, a renewed flicker of hope fought the darkness inside him. If he was willing. And although he had wrought no bargains.

✧

Chapter Text

Was he willing to give his own brother to Nanika? 

The question drifted through Killua’s dreams for the rest of the night. He woke at dawn, enveloped in his blanket and the booming vibrations from the cavern behind him. Pale light softened the rock floor. Outside the cave, wind-borne spray sparkled like clusters of stars against the lightening sky. He felt on edge and unrested, and his thoughts churned.

He and Gon had just spoken of how wrong human sacrifice was. But Nanika had made it clear she wanted his brother. Even if it didn’t result in her granting him his husband back, he couldn’t dismiss the idea. He needed to fulfil the promise he’d made to Alluka, and he’d come up with nothing else that would work. In so many ways, it would feel like justice.

He groaned as he pushed himself up to sit and leaned back against the wall. It was the fifth day since Gotoh’s visit and Illumi would be sending warriors to hunt him—if he hadn’t already. If Killua was caught, it wouldn’t just be over for Gon and him, but would leave Alluka stranded in the islands forever. However he did it, he had to deal with Illumi now—not just for his own sake, but for hers.

Killua spread his blanket over the cave floor, piled his possessions on top, then bundled them up. All his offerings were gone, so at least it would weigh less this time for his climb. Once he reached the forest, he’d find a bird’s egg or fruit to eat.

His stomach hurt—probably from eating nothing but raw fish for days. 

Or, maybe his gut was twisting at thought of what Nanika’s request might entail.

 Would he need to sacrifice Illumi on an altar? As a dark mage, he’d earned such treatment. The spirits Killua carried around with him, who must have all been sacrificed that way, would be pleased to witness such a thing. But he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it. The thought was sickening. Which, he was learning, meant it was probably wasn’t what Nanika wanted.

So, could he simply bring Illumi to her? Let her dispense justice? He could drop Illumi down the hole into the cavern. It was no more than Killua had done himself so long ago. Tricky to get Illumi there, though, if they were being pursued. Perhaps it’d be better to hand him over somewhere where they could stay hidden.

His grandfather Zeno’s descriptions of the warriors whose lives Nanika had taken had not been pretty. Would Illumi end up a crushed, dessicated unrecognisable husk of his former self?

He’d earned that too, given how he’d usurped Nanika and tried to execute her priestess. It was the fate Illumi had always feared, Killua was sure. But what would it make him to hand his brother over, knowing that was likely? Would he be stained indelibly, even darker than Illumi, because it was fratricide? Or, was it the right thing to do?

He didn’t know. The nausea wouldn’t leave him as he tied the bundle onto his back and checked it. He stood at the edge of the cave mouth watching the surf break below, remembering body after body splayed on the guardian mage’s altar, their screams cut off, their eyes turning dull. A silence, louder than a bell. His own still-beating heart. 

He hated so many of the things Illumi had done. Had hated his dark magic from the moment he’d first been forced to bloody his own hands with it. But—Illumi hadn’t broken any family rules. The people he’d killed or sacrificed were those he’d been paid to assassinate, those who’d invaded their territory, or their own people who'd committed crimes. They’d done things that wouldn’t be criminal elsewhere, perhaps, but they’d known the risk. The fact Illumi took pleasure when he killed was irrelevant. Every Zoldyck was supposed to find joy in that skill.

And, despite everything, Illumi hadn't murdered Alluka in the end, though it wasn't for want of trying. He hadn't taken Gon's life either. 

Illumi was no different from any other Zoldyck.

And, not once had he ever betrayed their family. Even his plan to take Killua’s memories was allowable under their code, so long as Silva gave his blessing. Knowing Silva, he’d see it as a worthy competition, showing which of his sons was strongest, and therefore more deserving of his support. He probably expected Killua would win because he was heir—because Silva thought Killua was like him. But he’d do nothing to stop Illumi.

Whereas, it was forbidden to kill family members, no matter the provocation.

For that reason, Illumi probably wouldn’t comprehend that Killua was capable of giving him to Nanika. It was too heinous a betrayal, too far from Illumi’s own values. But when he’d refused to lift the curse, Killua had warned him he’d no longer think of him as his brother.

Did Illumi understand what that meant? Killua had not doubted himself as he’d said it. But now, his chest clenched so he couldn’t breathe deeply enough. Before his rite of passage into manhood, Illumi had basically brought him up. Silva had been distant, and much as Killua had always feared his older brother, a part of him had also once admired Illumi and wanted his approval. That approval had made part of Killua happy, though the acts with which he’d won it had been horrific. And that small part of him was like a child on its hands and knees in a dark corner of his mind, crying out that he couldn't do this, that he mustn't.

He needed to crush that part of himself, because Gon had been right from the first: Illumi was a monster.

Killua had warned him that they would no longer be brothers and Illumi had walked away, choosing not to believe him.

This wasn’t a betrayal of anyone in his family. 

And he had to keep believing that, or doubt would weaken him and he would fail.

He would be doing what no one else would. He would be restoring things to how they should be—protecting his people. Enabling Alluka to return, with Nanika, to her rightful place. Then no one need fear they or their loved ones would become the next sacrifice.

✧

 But, how the fuck was he going to bring Illumi to Nanika? He couldn’t think about that while he was scaling the cliff, not until he’d hauled himself and his possessions up over the top and lay there, panting on the rock. Then, his thoughts immediately returned to the problem. Just him, against three hundred-odd Zoldyck-trained warriors and assassins? He snorted at his own hubris. He’d had good reason for not allowing Gon to jump in and fight them.

In his favour, he was a skilled lone assassin. But so was Illumi—hence all the wards on the Shadow House. Surprise was impossible. The best he could hope for was small warning.

Also in his favour, he knew that was where Illumi would be. He wouldn’t leave to hunt for Killua along the coast until he felt the warriors he’d sent were failing. Especially if he’d heard Nanika’s cry last night—and Killua had the feeling it would have carried over her entire territory. 

As soon as he’d caught enough breath, he dragged himself up. The ceaseless wind hammered his ears and back, impatiently pushing him towards his goal as he crossed the headland into the rata forest, where the salt air gave way to the scent of moss near the stream. But before too long, while he was well-hidden, he had to work out how to enter and leave the village without being caught. He had no chance using normal methods. 

The village wall not only looked formidable, but was guarded and warded to ensure no one scaled it. Killua could take out the guards, but surely Illumi would put extra watchers in and around the village while they were hunting him. The moment Killua set foot through the gates, he’d be caught. Even if he took twenty fighters down, more would come. He’d need magic to enter unseen.

He moved carefully, concealing himself among leafy undergrowth as he picked his way among the wind-stripped grey trees down to the edge of the stream. Tender new fern shoots made the start of a meal that at least wasn’t fish, then he knelt in the moss and refilled his waterskin. Sparrow arrived on a low branch nearby and chirped in greeting.

It was hard to look at her. This was the first time he’d seen her since he’d let her go. He swallowed. “I’m sorry. I should never have tried to hurt you.” He paused—he should tell her. “I have to capture my brother before he captures me. I won’t be going back to the hut. ”

She fluttered down to her usual position on his shoulder, and he rubbed her feathers with his cheek. “You should probably leave me now. Find yourself a mate and have some chicks. If this fails, I won’t be back at all.”

Loose strings of his silver hair were blowing in among her brown feathers. She didn't seem to mind, just lifting her wings and puffing into a ball.

“Thank you for saving me,” he said. “ You… You’ve been such good company.”

She looked him in the eye and made a crooning noise in her throat. Only a fool would think she didn’t understand him. He flushed and sighed. Then she dipped her head. He thought she was bowing, until she fluttered down and snatched one of the fern shoots he’d gathered.

“You don’t even eat those.” 

She cocked her head. He couldn’t tell her what to do.

“You just like me feeding you, don’t you.”

She dropped the shoot.

He snorted a laugh at her denial.

She clacked her beak at him. And then she took off, flapping up through the tree-tops. From there, she soared into the sky. Her wings spread wide and stilled, just the tips of her feathers fluttering. Killua’s chest felt full—since he’d found her, she’d grown up completely. He followed her small dark shape until she flew from view and her piercing cry vanished. 

And somehow, he knew that that really was goodbye.

He was alone, truly alone.

Hopefully she’d left to have chicks and not because she could no longer save him from himself.

His gaze fell to his bare toes, digging in among the tiny filaments of moss. The wind ruffled his hair and pushed at his cloak, again telling him to move.

But how?

Weariness made it hard to focus. He splashed icy water onto his face, scrubbing the salt from his skin and where it had gathered at his hairline. He stared down at his reflection, at his pale skin, at his prominent cheekbones and jaw—he was thinner than usual, not in his best shape—and into his own blue eyes. 

“Fucking tell me what to do. You’re supposed to be talented.” 

There was no time for anything complicated. He stared in frustration at the silver hair that marked him as the most gifted of his generation. He should be able to defeat Illumi—or at least have a chance.

Like a fish darting in the shadows bordering the stream, something nudged at the edge of his mind.

He splashed his face again. His reflection wavered as the stream rippled past. “What is it? What is it I’m not seeing?”

He knew the feel of knowledge that was already part of him. Despite the sense of urgency, he had to get past this tension.

He drew in a long breath and flattened his fingers into the moss as he exhaled slowly, then breathed his way into a warrior’s calm centre. He let his head drop. There was nothing but the light glinting from the diamond-like patterns in the water. Nothing but its lilting splashing song. Then his hair blew across his eyes, and everything turned silver. 

Possibility breathed across his nape and gave him goosebumps.

He saw. Looking down past his silver hair at the silver-grey stones at the bottom of the stream and the silvery sparkle of the water, he saw he was silver. 

When the magic touched him, it had changed to silver. It became his.

“It makes sense…”

Since he was small, he’d been trained to turn his enemy’s weapons against them. He had to seize his curse and trust that he could use it against Illumi. Until now, he’d not known how.

The audacity of it made him shiver. 

The part of him that liked to plan for all contingencies protested he had no training for this.

“Then it will depend on my raw instincts and this so-called talent I’m meant to have.” He narrowed his eyes at his reflection, whose mouth had taken on a cynical twist. 

You’ll have to go to sea again and trust you won’t drown.

“…Why stop now?”

He had to reach past his own limits. This was his only chance to do that. And he knew how to get past the wall now—or how to die trying. His fingers dug through the moss into stone. Everything hung on this. 

“Fuck you, Illumi. If you won’t come to the sea, then I will bring the sea to you.” 

✧

As Killua crawled through a stretch of boulders on the ridge behind his and Gon’s bay, his nostrils prickled. Smoke. He stopped and lay flat, resting his forehead on the back of his hand, breathing the sandy scent of the dirt that brushed the tip of his nose, wishing the other stench wasn’t real. 

His heart thudded in his throat. He knew what he would see next, and he shook with the force of the urge to run down to the dunes and stop it. Pressing a hand to the stone, he peered downhill through the trees.

A thick plume of smoke rose from the spiky wind-stunted forest behind the dunes. Orange flickered high in its midst, like bright flashes of butterflies’ wings. 

The hut he’d built with Gon was burning. 

Their wooden chests of possessions—including gifts Gon had brought him from the sea. The bed and blankets they had shared. The beautiful sea lizards Gon had carved beneath the window, the whalebone comb Killua had used on Gon’s hair. The lone string of shells Gon had left when he went missing.

I will take your memories, Illumi was saying, starting with the hovel you call your home. I will wipe them all. I will make it as though you never met Gon. 

“You can try,” Killua whispered, and sucked the ash-tainted air deep into his lungs.

✧

He could not rid his nostrils of the scent, even well after he’d left the bay. It was a bitter fuel for efficient action.

 When he reached the river mouth where his village kept their boats, he scouted out four guards. Two, he knocked unconscious immediately, and pulled them down into the grass. The others, he disarmed before forcing them to carry their fellows to the top of the nearest headland. A calculated blow to each of their temples, unlikely to kill, snapped their heads sideways and took them out as well. 

“You’re lucky I don’t just murder people any more,” he told their comatose bodies, trussing them up with rope he’d gathered from one of his weapons caches. “Wake in time, and you’ll get a good view of the storm.”

He returned to the river mouth. Beyond the forest that lined the valley, Kukuroo dominated the sky. It felt like Tehun was watching as he took the boat he’d just stolen into the sea, pulling away from the beach that curved into the river. Most of the day was gone. A stiff but natural breeze ruffled the ocean, which glinted with pale yellow sun.

He’d hidden his remaining possessions in his cache and stripped down to his leather wrist braces and the pants he’d cut short for wading. Less to drag him down. The waves were small so far. He dug the paddle in harder than necessary, thinking about the home Gon and he had built together, all the tiny comforts they’d collected, gone in flames. It was calculated to upset him, to goad him into mistakes. He knew that, even as he squeezed tears from his eyes. Luckily, Illumi hadn’t known his caches existed, or his weapons would have been burned too. Several were now lashed to the hull interior, along with a second paddle and the net in which he intended to bind the sadistic bastard later.

As he drew close to the limits of the headlands that bound this stretch of coast, the wind and waves picked up. Their rough noise was joined by the spirits’ voices buzzing in his head.

This stretch of sea before the river was at the very heart of Nanika’s territory, where she was strongest. Given what he was about to request, she shouldn’t ignore him when he called. But how far away was Gon? If he was still up near the cavern, Killua could only trust Nanika could deal with that.

If not, this could already be over.

He set down the oar, hooked his feet under the ropes he’d tied across the hull, and rose to stand.

"Nanika!” he shouted over the waves. “I’m going to bring Illumi to you! But I need your help. I have to go out to sea far enough to capture the power of my curse. I can't do it without Gon’s help. So I need you to bring him to me!”

Had she heard? His stomach tightened as he looked around. Goosebumps covered his bare skin—from the feel of his curse gathering. The waves were growing choppy and their surfaces were opaque. After so many days of fruitlessly calling to Nanika, he couldn’t escape the feeling she mightn’t answer.

Pain pulsed through his scars. She’s heard. He exhaled slowly and sat down.

He took up the paddle to keep the prow pointed towards the islands at the horizon, ready to continue further out when Gon arrived. The mist from his curse gusted around him. Spray chilled his cheeks and lips, and looking down, he saw himself with the bluish pallor of the dying as the blood retreated from his bare skin. 

It was hard to ignore the churn in his belly. So many things could go wrong. What if Nanika couldn’t bring Gon here? Would he have to try drowning by himself? Even if he survived, that was only the start of his plan.

Fuck it. He couldn’t stand waiting. “Gonnnn!” he yelled, past the slap of the waves. Yelling felt better than silence, especially when the swell was now rising high enough to block his view of the horizon when the boat wallowed. He clutched the gunwale, peering over the side, trying to see past the gold glare of sunlight that had made it through the mist. Any warmth it had once held had been stolen.

As the boat rose, he glanced back to the beach, where he could still make out the long stretch of white against the shadow of the forest. Still deserted. No sign that anyone had noticed the disturbance.

All at once, his scars throbbed. The sea lifted beneath the hull, pushing him away from the shore. He gripped the oar with both hands. The sea did not work this way; neither did his curse. “Nanika,” he breathed. It could only be her. His stomach dropped as the sea rose again, and he scanned the water urgently. “Gon, where are you?” 

Just as he was steeling himself to face the storm alone, the hull tipped. Tan fingers on the gunwale. His heart leapt. “Gon!” 

He dropped the oar and grabbed Gon’s wrists. He didn’t have to pull hard—Gon propelled himself out of the water as deftly as a porpoise and collapsed heavily on top of Killua, a slippery weight pushing him back onto the bottom of the boat between the two seats. 

“Killua! Are you alright?!” Gon sounded panicked.

A grin welled up from deep inside Killua. As Gon’s hair tumbled down around them, he reached up and cupped Gon’s face. “Fine now you’re here. Haven’t drowned yet.” 

There were shadows under Gon’s eyes which Killua hadn’t been able to see last night, and though Gon didn’t need to shave often, stubble roughened his cheeks and jaw. He hadn’t been taking care of himself. Killua bit his lip and stroked him with his thumbs. “I asked Nanika to bring you here. Are you okay?” 

Gon was blinking rapidly, still staring down at Killua as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked a little green. “I feel…sick.”

“Hey, you gonna throw up on me?” He slid his hands behind Gon’s shoulders, rubbing his scales. 

Gon shook his head and awkwardly braced himself on his elbow. “No. No, I’m fine. Ugh. She just—snatched me, then I was here. I just…I’m feeling better.” His worried expression melted into a wide grin. “It was amazing.” His eyes grew tender. “Killua…”

Warmth fluttered in Killua’s chest. He tilted his chin up, angling for Gon’s lips as fingers slid beneath his head and cradled him. The heat of Gon’s mouth capturing his and the roll of the boat combined made him dizzy; the thrust and slide of Gon’s tongue shook needy whimpers from deep within his core. He’d thought when they kissed at the beach, that might be it, forever. So he didn’t care that the boat threw them hard against the struts, or that the rope tie scraped his bare spine. He groaned and clung to Gon as fiercely as he had then, arching to press their bare chests and stomachs close. When Gon groaned his name, he pulled him in harder still, wrapping his leg around Gon and plunging his tongue up into his mouth. Kissing him was sweet and rough as drinking apple mead, hot and intoxicating, and Killua did not intend to stop.

A wave smashed down over them, and sloshed around his shoulders. As they hauled themselves up, Gon, unperturbed, continued to bite at Killua's lips with sharp teeth. Killua whined as need spiked through him and his dick throbbed against the sea-soaked fabric of his pants. He kicked away the net he’d stashed from where it was trying to entangle his ankle, then grabbed Gon again, kissing him brutally hard. Strong fingers caught around the nape of his neck, and he didn’t want to surface from Gon’s mouth, didn’t want to face what would come next. But a wave thundered and spray hit him like a shower of heavy pebbles. 

He braced his forehead on Gon’s, breathing hard as the boat tipped. “I think Nanika wants us to get on with this.” Salt stung his lips where Gon had bitten. He hung onto Gon’s biceps. 

Gon looked up at him through wet lashes. “What’s happening? I can feel nothing’s changed, with the taboo. Why am I here?"

“Are you complaining? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Don't tease.” Gon pouted like a child. “You know I do. All I want is to be with you.”

He stroked Gon’s cheek with his knuckles. “Me too.”

Reluctantly, he let go and pushed himself back up onto his seat. The sea had grown rougher, the mist thicker. Reaching behind, he grabbed a pail he’d tied into the boat and tossed it to Gon. “Bail?” Gon lifted a questioning brow at him, but obliged, shifting back onto the second seat. Killua took up the paddle—he’d planned for them both to use one, but the water was coming in too fast. “So this is what’s happening,” he yelled. Now they were further apart, they’d have to shout to be heard. “I’m going to give Illumi to Nanika, and I need your help."

“But how?” Gon looked confused. “I can't leave the sea. Even with Nanika's help.”

“You’re fine on the sea, though. Like this—surrounded by it. And when you rode Nanika.” 

“Yeah…” A narrow-eyed look. “Killua, what’s your plan?”

“Do you remember, on the beach, you asked me why the magic turned silver?” 

“Yeah. You didn’t know.”

“Now, I think I do.” He steadied himself as much as the hull as he swept the oar through the water. “I think, when that happens, it means the magic is mine—mine to use. I felt it happening after you saved me from drowning. After that, I felt connected to the storm.”

Gon’s eyes widened. “Oh…” Then he shook his head, brow pleating. “Are you sure it happened then?”

“Yeah. And it makes sense. It’s the nature of curses.” Killua’s mouth twisted bitterly. “There’s always a flip-side to their power. Something that can be turned back on the maker if a certain condition is fulfilled. Illumi taught me, when you curse someone or something, you make that condition improbable, so your curse won’t rebound. But it must be possible, or the curse won’t work. Like an opposing muscle. Do you see?”

Gon scowled. “Oh yes. I saw it. Your sick fuck brother set the condition that you had to survive the full force of the storm trying to drown you. When it should drown you, because you’d gone out too far to survive. He cursed you before you met me. He would’ve thought there was no way it would happen.”

“Yeah. He wasn’t actually trying to kill me. He wouldn’t have imagined I’d be dumb enough to go that far out.”

“Don’t defend him, Killua.” Anger darkened Gon’s gaze. “He’s an asshole. But I’m glad you admit you were dumb. Even I couldn’t have saved you if not for Nanika.”

“I know.” He winced. “But, thing is. The more powerful you make a curse, the more unlikely the counter-condition, the more devastating the power will be when it’s turned. For balance.”

Gon looked around. The waves were now towering. His eyes flashed gold. “This is a lot of power, Killua.”

“Yes. And I need it all. I have to go further out than last time. Far enough to gather so much power that when the storm comes in, the sea carries us all way up the river, bursts the village gates and floods it.” 

His scars ached as another unnatural swell rose and propelled them in the opposite direction to the waves. Gon gripped the sides of the boat. “This isn’t the sea. Is Nanika doing this?”

“She must be. She can take us out further than I can. I need you to save me from drowning again.”

“Shit.” Horror filled Gon’s eyes before he turned away, but there was determination in them when they returned to Killua. “I will never let you drown.”

“I trust you, Gon. And I’m trusting Nanika will let you stay with me when the sea takes us in.”

“I’ll see your village?” His gills fluttered, and Killua had the feeling Gon probably wasn’t only thinking of his village. He probably wanted to fight Illumi. But his brows knit again. “Killua, are you sure we can get that far?”

“If the storm’s big enough. It’s happened before, but it’s once in a lifetime. The last time—I was small, and it was terrifying. A huge storm flooded the entire valley. We had to rebuild a lot, afterward.” He was panting now, needing to use every muscle to wield the paddle. “Illumi’s home is raised above the level of that flood. But if l can isolate him there, I can cut him off from help. Then I’ll fight him. Bring him back with me as the sea retreats. I’ll need your help then, too. Probably won’t be able to handle the boat if he’s still struggling. Or, if I’m hurt.”

Gon nodded, still bailing, a progressively more hopeless task. “And then you’ll give him to Nanika.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve thought it through. I’m sure.”

Gon’s mouth crumpled in pain. “It’s hard. Really hard, seeing you nearly drown. I hate you going through that.”

“Can’t think of another way.”

Gon nodded, saying nothing.

Killua swallowed, digging into the wave. “Gon—even if this works, I still don’t know if Nanika can help us be together.”

“But there’s a chance.”

“There could be.”

“I understand,” Gon said. “The sea is bigger than Nanika. Her magic might not be enough. But she’s saved both our lives. I don’t want her to keep hurting.”

“Neither do I.” He’d known Gon would see it that way, but hearing him say that, Killua loved him even more. He wanted to reach over to him, but the boat was pitching. “Nanika and Alluka need this.” He gasped a deep breath. “But there’s one more thing.”

“Anything.” Gon met his eyes fiercely.

“If we make it into the village. No matter what happens. You cannot fight Illumi. He’s too dangerous. Leave him to me."

For a moment, Gon didn’t reply. His knuckles whitened around the pail, and his face worked in some inner struggle. Finally, he said, “I’ll do whatever you need, Killua.”

‘Need’, not ‘want’. It was the closest to a promise he’d be able to drag from Gon on that subject—he’d have to take Illumi down before it could be an issue. Killua nodded.

Gon slid down onto his knees between their seats. “Swap places. Give me the oar. You’ll need your strength, and you’re wearing out.”

As they changed over, Gon’s fingers closed around his in a firm squeeze, before the boat rolled again, forcing them to let go. 

✧

Nanika’s swell pushed them out faster than they would otherwise have managed. Killua had a feeling she must be shielding them from the very worst of the waves. Lightning flickered through the mist and he could feel the thunder through his body, which ached everywhere from his useless attempts to bail. Not the best preparation for a fight against his brother and his guards, all of whom would be rested, but Killua worried the hull might fill and founder like last time. 

“Nanika,” he yelled, “we need to keep the boat!”

The mist had become a thick grey soup, concealing all but the next oncoming wave. Both he and Gon had shoved their feet under the rope to help stay on board as the boat tossed. The crashing water was loud and constant.

But this isn't like last time, Killua told himself, as he thought about drowning. Because Gon’s here. Their ankles kept knocking painfully into each other, which was a comfort when seawater blurred his vision. When his eyes were clear, he could see the muscles in Gon’s chest and arms flexing, the fins and scales on his forearms glimmering with each fluid stroke. His eyes flickered gold and never left Killua for long. His green-black hair whipped everywhere, wild as the wind and waves. He was entirely in his element. Killua trusted him absolutely. So when the spirits screamed in his head and his stomach churned, he gritted his teeth, clamping his jaw, pushing down his fear.  

In the jade light glimmering through the waves—Nanika's light—the malicious black strands of Illumi's magic were easy to see. They swarmed up the mountainous slopes, and as Killua fought to scoop water from the hull, they slithered around his calves and ankles, their cold bite like steel sinking deep under his skin, seeking to pull him down.

Water smashed into him, rocking him back, filling his mouth, blinding him again. Then he could feel broad hands at his waist, pulling him from his seat to the bottom of the boat. He shook the wet hair from his eyes, still coughing. 

“Killua!” Pain twisted Gon’s expression as he slid forward over Killua’s legs and sat between his knees, anchoring him with his thighs. “She’s stopped taking us out.” He lashed the oar to the inside of the hull. “You ready?”

His thighs tensed under Gon’s. “Yeah,” he lied, wrapping himself around Gon’s chest, hauling in a breath.

The sea crashed over him from behind, shoving him into Gon, forcing his face down onto Gon’s shoulder as the water surged around them. He screwed his eyes shut, holding his breath. The current rushed past. The boat would re-emerge. It’d only be the first deluge. Gon’s legs were locked around his waist, holding him firm. He could feel the vibration of Gon’s fins against his neck and back. Some magical force held them and the boat together. How big was this wave? They weren’t coming out the other side. Was this Nanika’s doing? Or his own distorted perception of time? His heart was in his throat and his fingers dug into Gon.

A painful tug at the back of his head demanded he look up. He forced his eyes open. The intensity of Gon’s focus shook him. Gon’s eyes seemed huge, his irises radiating gold from beneath their surface. A greenish reflection of the light in the water shimmered from Gon’s cheeks and the line of his upper lip as his skin trembled in the current, which swirled his hair around them. He looked unreal and beautiful. His strong hands cupped the back of Killua’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, rubbing his scalp, trying to reassure. 

Killua clung to him. 

If this went wrong, if he drowned, at least he would be with Gon. His last wish granted in the end. But he didn’t want to die. He held his breath and pulled himself harder into Gon. He wanted to live—with Gon. 

Black streaks slithered cold around his neck and chest. He really didn’t want to breathe them in. 

He held on, pressing his brow to Gon’s, staring into his eyes. I chose this, he thought, and yet I fight it. His lungs weren’t full enough, but he kept his lips sealed. His chest and throat stuttered, and he blinked, convulsing with their pull. 

Anguish tugged at Gon’s features, and his lips shaped words unintelligible through the tumult. 

Killua struggled against Gon’s weight, pushing with his thighs. The grip behind his head firmed, tearing painfully at his hair as he tried to wrench free. He strained, clawing at Gon, punching.  Let me go! Black hair across his face, or were they the black streaks? The powerful arms he loved trapped him like a cage. Bubbles escaped through his nose. Somehow he still kept his mouth shut. His limbs were tingling, weakening with lack of air. He had to breathe—he had to— 

He threw his head back; glimpsed turbulence. Bubbles gushed from his throat.

And Gon’s mouth was over his, warm against the cold, pushing air into his lungs. His head spun. A loud rush in his ears. Not enough!—and he tried to pull away from Gon’s mouth, but Gon refused to let him, so much stronger than he was underwater. And then, for an instant, they lifted from the wave. Their mouths broke apart and he gasped a deeper breath, trying not to inhale the water streaming down his face. They plunged under a second time. Gon held him, hands locked in his hair, mouth firm over his, legs wound round his waist with such strength, it felt like nothing would ever tear them apart. And the next time they broke the surface, when Killua drew back, gasping, he saw silver. 

✧

Chapter Text

Still trembling as he came down from the intensity of the ordeal, head bent against the rain and spray, Killua kept his arms locked around Gon’s neck. Magic flowed over his biceps in silver streams. Thanks to Gon, it was his now. It didn’t bite or pull him down like before. Rather, it tingled with latent power, thrumming through his skin and bone with each rumble of the storm.

"Are you okay?” Gon pulled back, examining Killua’s face. 

"I'm fine,” he rasped. “Thanks to you."

“This better be worth it.” Gon pressed a rough kiss to Killua’s jaw. “I can see the silver. Can you control it?” 

“Guess we’ll find out. Feels weird, like I’m anchoring some kind of sky-beast the size of the clouds. It’s wild, with a mind of its own.”

“I know you can do it, Killua.”

He nodded, meeting Gon’s eyes with greater assurance than he felt, watching the rain roll down his precious face. He knew only that he had to command the storm somehow. Should he use words? Actions? Sigils? Mind alone? He should be capable, using the natural talent inherent in some humans and handed down his family line. Illumi had been strong enough to forge this curse, and in theory, Killua’s ability was stronger. But his training hadn’t covered anything like this. Once he’d left Illumi’s oversight, the only magics he’d trained in were the family sigils for fighting outsiders.

“Won’t be an issue, unless we can get to the village.” The boat was waterlogged; Nanika must be keeping them afloat. “We better bail.” Reluctantly, he let go of Gon, reaching past him to find the bucket. As he did so, everything tipped.

He and Gon grabbed the gunwales, both of them cursing as the boat tossed violently. The seat slammed into Killua’s spine, then he was thrown against the struts to the side. But when the unnatural motion ceased, there was far less water in the hull. 

“Thanks, Nanika!” Killua shouted. Tehun’s bloody talons. He righted himself.

Gon pealed with laughter. “Look, we’re going in!”

The fog and the slope of the waves hid any sign of land, but alongside the boat, the water rushed past from stern to prow. They’d either turned around in the turbulence or, now Nanika wasn’t taking them out, the waves were pushing them back ashore. 

As Killua questioned which one, his mind spun. He gripped the boat, anchoring himself, as part of him seemed to slide upwards into the clouds. Even as he stared at the silver strands sliding over his feet in the water at the bottom of the hull, he also saw, as if through the eyes of a sky-beast, the boat, tiny below him, and the beach growing closer.

“Killua? Are you alright?’

When he blinked, the strange double-vision disappeared. Gon was looking at him anxiously. “Yeah,” Killua said. “I can tell where we are. Let’s turn the boat around.” 

He reached to unlash the nearest paddle, but Gon caught his wrist. “Let me do that. You should save your strength for fighting.”

He nodded. It would also free him to figure out how to wield his magic. 

They shifted up onto the seats again, Killua nearest the prow, rain lashing his face as he watched Gon turn the boat. As the waves pushed them, the howling wind merged with the voices in his head. No—the wind was their voices now. The storm dragged at him, and he gripped the gunwales to steady himself. He had very little time in which to master this. He needed to test his ability. The roughness of the sea made for arduous progress, but maybe he could make their journey easier.

“Gon. I’m gonna try something.”

Trusting the boat to his husband, Killua closed his eyes, focussing on the storm. He reached along the ties he felt. As he sensed the storm everywhere around him, his heart raced and his fists clenched. The howling wind stirred the anger that had simmered deep in his gut ever since he’d realised Illumi had broken the taboo. The destructive power of the waves tumbled violently through his mind, as though it was shoving a weight of rocks and sand off all the pain he’d tamped down. Everything welled up and escaped like trapped bubbles shooting to the surface of the ocean. 

Illumi had hurt him. He’d forced Gon away, confined him to the sea; he’d burned their home. 

Illumiii has hurt aaalll of us.

Icy fingers seizing his hair, pulling him back. He was naked, a freezing stone slab beneath his body, struggling helplessly to free his wrists and ankles from coarse rope. He shrank from Illumi’s dark gaze that expanded around him until there was nothing else. A chant entwined him like a thorned vine: he existed only for his master. He hated— He belonged only— He could not tear his eyes from the flicker of orange torchlight on the glossy obsidian blade. As it descended, he shat and pissed himself, and arched his throat, terrified and willing—

No! The smack of cold water to his face, wood within his grip. I’m in the boat! He wrenched his eyes open and heaved in urgent breaths.

“Killua?!” Gon was staring at him.

“I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth and stared down at the water sloshing between his feet. “The storm stokes my emotions. The spirits want to share their pain. If I’m not careful, they’ll control me to carry out their vengeance.” It would be easy to align himself with them—sinking into their anger and hatred. It would even feel good, after all Illumi had done. But, like a powerful drug, it would undo him. “I have to control them.” 

Perhaps the empathy that existed now between himself and the spirits was the key. They’d used it to affect him physically and emotionally. He needed to affect the storm physically, or it would be no use to him, but he could not let it tamper with his feelings. 

He inhaled deeply, then blew out between his lips, slowing his heart beat. He found a warrior’s calm before reaching for the storm again. He felt the connection, the turbulence, the press of memories, fragments of violence and pain, but this time he was ready. He neither denied their existence nor let himself be swept into them. 

“Calm,” he said aloud, to reinforce his will, and took hold of the storm, flattening his palms and drawing them through the air as if he was smoothing the water along each side of the boat. 

And something intangible shifted. 

The boat steadied as the water alongside them grew silken, although the swell of the waves pushing them towards land was still colossal.

Killua grinned slowly and caught Gon’s round eyes.

“You did it, Killua!” 

“Yeah.” It meant Gon didn’t have to steady them and could use the paddle simply to steer.

He hadn’t imagined it. There was sympathy between him and the magic. He could sense that the spirits knew what he wanted to do—they’d been with him a long time. He would command them, but he didn’t need to force them to follow him. He could feel their hunger.

As he sensed the beach growing near, Killua turned to see past the prow. Through the rain and fog, all he could make out was the darkness of water. 

The beach and the river mouth were gone, drowned in the storm surge. The headlands to either side had become mist-wreathed islands. The forest that lined the valley floor was submerged but for the tops of trees and taller rock formations.

“That way,” he shouted to Gon, pointing out a broad gap between the swathes of palm leaves that twisted upside-down, torn in the wind. “The river runs up the middle.”

Rain drummed into the churning waters all around. The constant tearing and snapping sounds made Killua shudder. He hadn’t imagined this scale of destruction, had never witnessed anything like it. As they moved inland, muddy water and foam devoured everything ahead as far as he could see. They were travelling very fast towards Kukuroo’s looming shadow, which felt even vaster against the breadth of the floodwaters.

Needing to face his village as they arrived, Killua unlashed the second paddle from the hull, then clambered over to squish himself beside Gon, whose skin was warm with exertion despite the rain. He was looking all around, wide-eyed.

"I've never seen this far inland!" Gon yelled, leaning into Killua’s shoulder.

He had to grin at Gon’s eagerness. “I wish you could see more.” 

The sides of the valley were little more than shadow. Lightning sizzled down, striking the water ahead, turning everything dazzling white as thunder deafened him. 

They both worked to direct the boat down the centre of what had been the river. The waves were lower yet no less powerful than out at sea, pushing them forward before overtaking them. They had to knock away debris while staying on course at a speed that made Killua’s blood pump, probably faster than either of them had travelled in their lives. As the palm forest slid past, rocks and trees collided, crashing and grinding. 

“There's a rope bridge up ahead,” Killua shouted. “Watch we don’t get tangled.”

Gon was clearly trying to absorb everything, his eyes fierce, a broad grin lighting his face as he worked. Killua’s chest felt full, seeing him like this and co-ordinating with him. As they anticipated one another’s movements and trusted in one another’s strength, they worked in such a smooth dance, it seemed they’d trained together their whole lives. Everything hung on this, but even so, Killua tingled with exhilaration and he could see the same feeling in Gon’s flushed face.

Through the rain and fog, a shadowy pattern was now visible rising above the flood—the forested base of Kukuroo. Something banged, shrieking past the hull. 

“The bridge!” Killua caught a glimpse of broken ropes writhing in the current behind them. A moment later, they were gone. 

“Killua!” Gon pointed ahead. “Is that your village?” A pale shape stretched horizontally ahead, interrupting the flooded treetops. As they approached, its spiky top became more apparent, a white glow against the shadows beyond.

“Yeah, that’s the wall. Uh—this could be a problem.” 

When he’d set out to do this, he’d not expected the flood would be even bigger than the one he remembered from his boyhood. It concealed the gates, even the guardian stone. 

“The gates must have already broken. I’d imagined we’d steer in through them. But…" He swallowed. “There’s no way.”

Now he could see where the flood churned against the wall. The pressure was pushing it higher, in a muddy tumult. Bursts of spray shot up where waves tumbled onto the lower spikes. 

A heavy numbness spread through him. “My plan’s not going to work. We can’t get in. If we don’t change course, we’ll be impaled.” 

 Gon's eyebrows knit and his gaze didn't waver from the wall. “Don’t be stupid, Killua. Use your magic. We’ll go over the top.”

“That’s insane.”

“Why? You moved the water before, and look—you’re covered in magic. You own the storm. You have to use it.”

He glanced down at the silver trickling across his chest and along his arms, wherever the rain or spray touched him. “Yes, but there’s no time to practice. If I get it wrong—“

“I know you can do it, Killua.”

The second time Gon had announced such faith in him. But he’d be throwing himself and Gon at those spikes, trusting only his inherent ability. There was a huge difference between pressing the water down to soothe the waves, and gathering the water to push them even higher.

Or was he overthinking this? The storm’s power was coursing through him. He simply had to align its force with his will.

“Right. Shit. Gon—I’m going to try. But if it looks like this won’t work, jump out, okay? There’s no need for you—”

“Killua. If I jump out, and I won’t need to, I’m taking you with me.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Okay. When we’re in position, hang onto me.” 

The wall stretched wider. Soon, they’d be too close to turn away. Killua lowered himself to the bottom of the hull with Gon at his back. “Can you aim us?”

Gon did so and they slid into an eddy of current that would hurl them straight at the spikes. Killua fit himself between Gon’s thighs, then rose on his knees. “Hold me steady.” The paddle clattered into the hull beside him as Gon took his waist, then a hard warm kiss to the crook of his neck sent a shiver through him. “Idiot. Don't distract me.”

If he’d known what he was doing, maybe he could have shaped the storm purely with his mind, but he felt he needed physical command. He stretched his arms wide, encompassing everything. The floodwaters were growing rougher, shaking the boat. Tehun’s breath, this was dangerous. But Gon’s hands were firm at his waist. He could feel Gon’s faith in him. He could not, must not, let any harm come to him. And he had to reach Illumi—all this destruction could not be for nothing.

Focus— 

The magic tugged at his shoulders, his back, his stomach, and he turned his palms up, spread his fingers wide. His connection to the storm, to the spirits, pulled at him. Their voices screamed through the wind, and he gathered them to him with a snarled command: “Come!” His head snapped back and he felt his mind spread into them. He could feel the storm as if he was part of it: he was borne upon the driving rain, he flew in the tearing wind, he tumbled among the heavy clouds. The wall was tiny. A mere interruption. The sea heaved and part of him moved into that too, among currents so vast and powerful they should have overwhelmed him, but Gon's warmth secured him, the love that flared through him at that touch reminding him he was human.

He could see himself at the heart of the storm as the spirits’ awareness overlaid his own. He opened his eyes. They were almost upon the spikes, which reached, white and unforgiving, through the churning brown water. “Rise!” Killua screamed, turning his palms and sweeping his arms down, pushing the storm beneath the hull to create a surge like Nanika had at sea. He convulsed with its force, but he felt the flood gather—river and seawater combining to swell beneath the boat. As they rose, Gon’s hands tightened at his waist, then came around him as he slid back into Gon’s chest. Through a veil of mist and spray, the points of the spikes approached the prow. They could no longer escape. Muddy water and foam swirled around them. The boat lurched as something ground along its underside.

The spirits screamed in Killua’s head; he and Gon were yelling. The world tumbled, pitching him forward; the hull slammed into his hands, his cheek; Gon’s weight onto his back; the breath pushed from his lungs. Muddy water doused his face as they rolled—then the hull was steadying. 

“Sweet fucking Tehun,” Killua breathed, staring at the side of the boat, marvelling it was still intact. He felt Gon scramble back off him. “We made it.”

✧

Chapter Text

“Killua—that was amazing!” Kneeling, Gon clutched the sides of the hull, staring all around. “Wow. So this is where you come from.”

Water swirled around the eaves of the longhouses, which must have survived largely thanks to the village wall taking the brunt of the flood. The smaller huts and storehouses were submerged, except where broken wooden framing protruded above the surface. Crates, barrels and pieces of shingle floated in the water. Everything smelled of mud and sodden thatch. Through the harsh drum of rain on the water came crashing sounds, creaking, cries and screams. Figures moved around on the rooftops, their identities obscured by fog, just as Killua hoped his was. The water continued to push the boat forward.

Killua steered them towards a dark building that stood mostly above the flood. “That's where Illumi lives. The Shadow House.”

Gon glowered at it. 

“And that one”—Killua pointed to another in the distance—“is my parents’ palace.”

Gon gaped at the mist-shrouded outlines of peaked roofs and balconies that extended up the slope behind the lower portion of the village. Lightning flashed, reflecting off the dark wet timber and shingles. “It’s huge,” Gon said when the thunder died. 

“Compared to everything else around here. But there are bigger palaces in the cities and towns.”

“I want to see them one day,” Gon said. “Once we’ve undone the taboo. I’ve heard there are cities on big harbours.” 

“When my curse is gone for good, we can sail there, around the coast.” 

“We’ll do that.” Gon sighed wistfully. “The sea is even bigger, Killua. I wish I could show you.”

“Yeah. I wish I could go with you too.”

Killua blew a long breath out as they approached the Shadow House, then reached for Gon’s hand and squeezed it. They exchanged a kiss, then leaned their foreheads together. Killua clasped the back of Gon’s neck. “How’s Nanika’s magic holding up?”

“We need to hurry.” Gon frowned. “She’s letting me go this far inland because we’re still on seawater, but I can feel it’s already stopped rising.”

Killua nodded and passed the paddle to Gon to steer. The magic from the storm tingled over his skin as he untied two shields, his dagger, his dragonbone club and another hardwood club from the  struts inside the hull. He hoped he hadn’t been seen, but the strong currents would also make it hard for anyone to cross to the Shadow House without a boat. 

The clouds rolled overhead like a dark army, fitfully luminous with lightning. Mist wreathed the building and the flood concealed its deck, rippling mid-way up the bases of the two spirit stones guarding the top of the steps. The tiny flames in the bellies of the stone beasts still flickered through the mist, magically burning despite the wind and rain. 

“The moment I pass them, Illumi will know I’m here,” Killua said. “Stay on this side of them. I need you to remain hidden from him.” 

“But Killua—”

“I need to know you’re safe.” He cut Gon off. No time to argue, when the two guards behind the stone beasts had already moved into position, aiming their spears. They had not abandoned their posts, despite being almost knee-deep in water, and they eyed Gon and him through the rain. “They’ve seen you.” He stretched his back and neck, and stretched his arms behind him, releasing the tightness in his chest. “I’m taking them out. And I don’t want them behind me when I go inside.” He slung on his shield and took up his club, then nodded at the hardwood club and second round shield. “Yours, in case you’re attacked.”

Gon hefted the club, testing its balance, then took the weighted line Killua handed him next and threw it on Killua’s signal. 

The weighted end flew around the top rail of the deck. Gon hauled them close. Killua leapt out onto a submerged step and charged onto the deck, wielding his club like an axe. He smashed the spears aside and took advantage of the first guard’s flinch (likely at seeing the silver magic) to break his upper arm with the first arc of his dragonbone club, then the other arm on the backswing. The man screamed and dropped to his knees, spear falling into the water. 

Meanwhile, the other guard had swiftly stabbed at Killua, forcing him to parry with his shield, but was now leaping past—he could only be heading for Gon, probably hoping to threaten him in order to immobilise Killua.

But the water slowed his feet. Killua shoved his shield at the man in a vicious blow, causing him to stagger towards the nearest spirit stone beast, off-balance.

“Too easy,” he hissed, shield sliding up his arm as he hoisted the first guard by his collar and belt and swung him around, intending to throw him at the other guard and send them both out into the current. However, Gon was already just outside the spirit stones, submerged to his thighs on the underwater steps, hauling his would-be attacker up by the back of his belt and a fistful of hair. A pleasing sight, with his wet muscles flexed. Gratifying to see the shock in the idiot guard’s eyes.

With an angry grunt, Gon flung the guard out through the rain into the flood. The man’s howl was cut off when he crashed into the water. Killua ignored the sobbing pleas from the broken guard he held, and hurled him shrieking out after the other. If the able-bodied one had any decency, he’d stay busy saving the man he’d served with. The current swept both men away.

“Gon, don’t come past the spirit stones.” Killua collected his club from underwater near the doors where he’d dropped it. “I need you to stay hidden. Best if you wait in the water near the boat.”

Gon scowled. “I hate doing nothing when you’re being attacked.”

“I wasn’t in trouble—they weren’t much more than decoration.” Though even decoration could make trouble if he let it stay behind him when he went in. “Listen—no matter what happens, I need you to stay out of danger. It looked like Illumi had ordered those guards—at least one of them—to attack you if you came here. They’re not going to kill me, but we know he wants you dead.”

“You don’t need to protect me. I can fight beside you.”

“Normally, yes. But not here. If Illumi sees you, he’ll kill you or use you against me.”

“That guard was nothing. I could’ve taken both, as easily as you did. ” Gon’s hands fisted, half buried in the strands of his skirt. “I’m stronger than them, and I’m just as much a warrior as you. It’ll be faster with two of us, with better odds. It’s crazy you don’t want me to fight.”

“No, it’s not.” 

“Killua—” 

“—it’s not crazy.” He glared at Gon. “We both know you’re weaker out of the water.”

Gon returned Killua’s look with equal vehemence. “But while the flood’s high—” 

“We don’t know when the flood will retreat. When it does, you’ll weaken until you’re no stronger than that guard you threw away. That won’t be enough to deal with the rest of Illumi’s servants, let alone my actual brother. And what happens if the seawater leaves completely?” 

Gon swallowed and looked away. 

“With the taboo magic forbidding you from being here,” Killua persisted, “if you’re caught in a fight and can’t go with the sea, will you be left with any strength at all?”

Gon’s gaze dropped to the water between them. A muscle flickered in his jaw. His fists quivered.

“I know this is hard.” A knot pulled tight in Killua’s chest. “Especially after what he’s done to us both.” 

“Yeah.”

“But it’s important. He knows you’re my weakness. Gon, I’d give anything he asked to save your life.”

A sharp, bitter nod. “And so would I, for you, Killua.” Gon’s lips pinched tight, but he sank back down into the water and glided towards the boat.

Killua turned back to the doors.

The knee-deep floodwater along their fronts boiled with escaping air. Killua pushed with both hands, testing their strength, and felt resistance—a bar across the inside. 

He’d expected they were barred against the flood, otherwise they would have burst open by now. The building was raised on stilts, designed with flooding in mind after the last big one. But Illumi wanted to capture him—why would he continue to keep them barred, knowing he was here? The wards in the spirit stones would have told him Killua had arrived the moment he passed them, and Illumi must have heard the fighting; he’d expect Killua to break in.

So leaving the doors barred was tactical. It would allow Illumi to assemble who-knew-what surprise behind them, and crucially, Illumi must want to delay him. Because Illumi would recognise that the storm was due to the curse, and fear that magic being turned upon him. But he would know that when the storm ended, Killua’s power would end too, leaving him stranded here without recourse. The longer Illumi delayed him, the more the odds rose that Illumi would win.

Killua stepped back to the edge of the deck, where Gon waited in the water beside the boat, still looking unhappy. 

“Stay behind the hull,” Killua said. “I’m guessing Illumi will have poisoned darts ready for when I break in. They mustn’t hit you. I’m going to use my magic.”

His third attempt. Using it was beginning to feel familiar. 

Killua grounded himself, focussing on the middle of the doors, then stretched his arms wide and reached for the storm, letting his mind slid out and up among the spirits tied to him until he sensed the Shadow House below. It was a dark presence, larger than its physical size suggested. The spirits recognised it, and Illumi’s presence inside. He could feel their malice rumbling through the clouds as the wind tugged at him, blowing through his essence, pulling him wide and thin like a sail. Tension rippled through him—he must pull it all in before he was shredded; bring it together, twist it into a battering ram.

Wind snatched at his hair, shrieking past, shaking his whole body. Above, the roof timbers groaned. “Bam!” he yelled, for want of a more magical word, feeling like he was three years old, but bringing his arms down and sweeping the wind toward the doors, moulding the shape he wanted with his hands and mind.

It hurt—the power ripped at him. Liquid silver streamed from his arms and hair, blown into him and torn from him by the wind. He leaned back into it, and it curled past him, knowing to leave him be. 

The doors screeched as they slowly tore from their hinges, shuddering as they pressed inwards. The darkness of the Shadow House crept over the top of them as the first hinges gave, and enlarged as they strained against their middle hinges, trying to burst open despite the bar that held them. 

Killua gathered the storm a second time in a twisting, pulling motion, and aimed it at the doors, screaming, “Fall!” 

The doors smashed down. Water exploded up around them. The wind howled past Killua into the vestibule—none of Illumi’s darts had a chance. The shrieks and crashes coming from the dark interior were satisfying. They told Killua he’d created chaos. 

As floodwater rushed past him into the vestibule, he strode onto the open threshold, shield ready, swinging his club, assessing what he faced.

All light inside had been extinguished, but the late afternoon stormlight that streamed in from behind him showed that both altars had toppled, their inner flames quenched by the water if not the wind. Any lanterns or candles had met a similar fate. 

A group of servant-guards stepped calmly towards him over the bodies of those who’d been taken out by the brass-headed needles that glinted from their black uniforms. They lifted their slim staves before they came within reach of his club, holding him at a distance. He was not so foolish as to just rush in and let them surround him, but he needed to make short work of them.

“Welcome home, Killu,” Illumi said, from behind them. 

His pale face was visible at the back of the vestibule. Shadows fluttered around him like a cloak, moving in his hair and eyes—a magical defence useful to both a mage and an assassin, which he he could turn to attack any time he wished—except Killua knew their family sigils against it. 

“When the storm hit so suddenly,” Illumi continued, “I assumed you would come to fight me. However, if I’m wrong, lay down your weapons and surrender. Then I won’t hurt you.”

Killua eyed the guards in turn, six of them, four men and two women. “I’m taking Illumi to Nanika for judgement,” he said to them. “Stand in my way and I’ll kill you. Or, if you wish to end his dark magic, fight with me.”

Most of their faces hardened; uncertainty flickered in the eyes of a couple, he hoped because they were sympathetic to his goal. His threat was no more than any of them would expect.

“This is your one chance to stop my brother—” 

“Take him,” Illumi said, calm as stone. 

Perfectly trained, they attacked as one. Killua parried and smashed their staves away. He was no orator, to swiftly persuade them to turn on their master and risk threats that were likely worse than death in battle. Now he had to get past them to Illumi, but he couldn’t underestimate the power of their weapons or skill. One mistake and they’d break his bones or render him unconscious. 

Above all, he could not let them find Gon. If he rushed through them to Illumi, then they undoubtedly would. So he had to take them down. Fighting in the doorway limited his attackers to two at once and stopped them surrounding him. The water slowed his feet, but also theirs. He had the advantage of the light behind him: even though it was dull, it would make him a silhouette, hindering those within the dark of the Shadow House. 

“No permanent injuries,” Illumi called. “Master Killua must remain unblemished for his wedding.”

Illumi was taunting him as much as instructing his attackers, hoping anger would make him careless. Killua gritted his teeth, seeking openings in the clatter of blows, aiming to disable, despite his earlier threat, rather than kill the people Alluka would soon be protecting. His dragonbone club sung through the air in a flurry of feints and vicious arcs. Staves clanged against his shield, sending shocks up his arm and through his upper body. A man screamed as Killua shattered his hip. One. Another moved to replace him as he fell. 

“You did well to bring the storm,” Illumi said. “I knew your talent would surface in the end. Blowing the doors down—impressive. You make me proud, little brother. I’d love to know how you got past the wall. You used the storm for that too?”

Every word of praise, every interested question, was an unfurling tendril of pleasure in the child he’d once been, which as he recognised it, turned him nauseous. “You think I care for your praise?” he spat.

“…And, how did you survive drowning?”

A hint he suspected Gon was nearby? 

Killua ignored it. He couldn’t let Illumi goad him. Everyone here had had similar training to him, and he couldn’t use the family sigils on them—all servants had been warded so no one could accidentally wipe out the family army. 

Their staves made a fast violent music against his shield and club. Weapons for breaking him, not cutting or crushing. Perfect for drawing this out. Long and flexible, keeping the guards beyond his reach except when he mesmerised them, drawing them closer with the blurred patterns he wove with his club. If their eyes left him for an instant, he’d smash past their staves and crush them.

“Rather not answer?” Illumi drawled. “Oh well. I suppose your fucktoy must have helped.”

Husband. 

A staff slammed into Killua’s ribs. As the pain flared through him, he snarled, furious he’d lowered his defence for that instant. At least one rib had broken, but he’d been trained since he was small to fight on despite broken bones. He redoubled his effort, compartmentalising the pain, and at the next opportunity, took out the man's arm at the shoulder, feeling the crunch judder up his club. As the servant-guard screamed, Killua smashed his opposite hand. Two. He fell away and a wiry pock-faced youth leapt in to replace him. He fought with flowing movements, obviously talented.

Alarmingly, the water was no longer pushing past Killua into the Shadow House like it had when he’d knocked the doors down. A heavy blow buffeted his shield, and Killua slipped on the stone threshold, skidding back until his feet found the wooden deck. Was that the water retreating? How was Gon faring? Losing his strength? Finding it harder to stay?

This was already taking too long. As he warded off blow after blow, the weariness of having fought the sea already and of not having replenished his strength with proper meals was taking its toll. Pain thrummed up his arms and deep into his shoulders.

Pock-face’s inexperience was showing, though, in an occasional darting glance at the silver which flowed down Killua’s skin as the rain blew onto him from behind.

“I remember you,” Killua panted, “taunting Alluka before her trial. You pissed me off.”

The youth flushed—and paid for that momentary lapse with a possibly cracked skull. “Idiot.” Killua renewed the defensive pattern of his club as the youth collapsed. Three. There was a chance he’d survive the tempered blow; more than the chance he’d wanted to give Alluka.

“I only want Illumi!” he said raggedly, eyeing the highly competent woman he’d been fighting this whole time, and the older, heavier-set warrior who took Pock-face’s place. “But if you’re willing to defend his dark magic, you deserve a fool’s death.” He leapt the woman’s next blow that would’ve broken his shins. 

“You’re the fool, Killu,” Illumi said. “You should be wielding your magic. But clearly, you don’t know how. A shame.” He laughed, a joyful, slightly manic sound. “All that talent, wasted.”

Killua’s jaw tightened. Illumi only laughed like that when he murdered a lot of people, or when a fight he saw as a challenge was going his way. And Killua hadn’t even gotten to him yet. He was now facing a blur of weighted chains that would wrap his limbs and his club if his defence was a fraction less than perfect. He focussed on anticipating the intent of the warriors wielding them: a subtle shift in the angle of knee or hip, the dart of an eye. Breathing hard, he wove under the path of a weight that should’ve smashed his shoulder, and swiped back with the flat edge of his club at the poor bastard’s elbow.

Blood sprayed as the warrior yelled a curse, his arm shattering. But he leaned back, twisting and kicking so fast that as Killua avoided his boot, he felt wind at his jaw. The blurred end of the woman’s chain whistled past his cheek—fuck! 

“Careful,” Illumi said; to whom, Killua wasn’t sure, but as he ducked, evading the chain again, he broke the warrior’s shin with an equally fast smack of his heel. Four. The man crumpled, squealing like a wounded boar, and a handsome, wavy-haired man with olive skin stepped in. Petrac. He grinned broadly at Killua and winked. They’d fought each other before in tournaments, and even fucked a couple of times after Killua had won. 

“Back off, dickhead,” Killua said. He would’ve rolled his eyes if it was safe. “You should know better.”

Petrac didn’t hold back, and his fighting had improved—his grin hardened and his eyes betrayed a bloodlust that seemed out of keeping for a guard being forced to fight on Illumi’s behalf. Killua gritted his teeth as he blocked him.

“Killu, lift your guard,” Illumi ordered from the back of the room, as though Killua were twelve again. “You’ve grown sloppy. You’re slowing down and your shoulder is dropping."

True. He was paying for his earlier slip—every block or parry now felt like being stabbed. His muscles burned as he struck, and he could feel every inch of his climb up the cliff, every bruise and pang of deprivation he'd suffered over the last few days. But his will would never grow weary.

“Scared to face me on your own, Illumi? You know I’d win. Compared to me, you’re an old man.”

A cheap jab, but did he detect a huff? A slightly more dramatic lifting of Illumi’s hair? He’d always suspected his brother of vanity.

As the female warrior turned, whirling her staff, he finally found an an opening in her perfectly executed technique and smashed her thigh. She screamed, dropping her weapon as she fell into the water. Five. 

But the flood had lowered to his ankles.

“I just don't see the point in fighting you myself,” Illumi said, arching a brow and casually kicking at the water. “It’s unnecessary.” 

When Amane emerged from the shadows and leapt in to take the woman’s place, Killua knew, with a sinking feeling, that Illumi had hidden the toughest warriors, saving them for last when he was weakened. She tossed Petrac a long, thick staff, which due to his weight and power, forced Killua to use both his shield and club arms to block, as she hauled the fallen woman away. 

Canary had also emerged from the shadows, and waited beside Illumi, her gaze blank. There was a sour taste in Killua’s throat. Illumi wanted to force him to fight the one person other than Alluka who’d come close to being a childhood friend. She’d already told him Illumi had threatened she’d be the next sacrifice. Maybe Illumi had figured out that she’d helped Alluka, but couldn’t prove it, and this was part of his revenge. She’d be fighting Killua because her life depended on it.

“Of course, you don’t have to fight me,” Killua gritted out to Illumi, shoving at Petrac’s staff. “Surrender, and I won’t hurt you.”

“No, Killu. By the time you reach me, you'll be on your knees.” Illumi tossed his hair from his face; it was dishevelled from both his shadows and the wind. “By now, you must be very practiced in that position. Perhaps I shall take advantage.“

“No!” 

The furious cry came from behind Killua. His heart leapt into his throat.

“Don’t you dare speak to him like that!” Gon yelled.

“Gon—stay out of this!”

“After all,” Illumi continued, with a delighted smile. “I can make you forget later. Mother and father won't ever—“

“You piece of shit! You don’t deserve to be his brother—”

“Gon! No!”

“—all you ever want is to use him!”

“Oh. It’s the fucktoy! Canary, kill him.”

“Anyone lay a finger on him and you’re dead!” Killua snarled. Tears pricked his eyes. “Gon is my husband!” 

As Petrac’s gaze slid past him towards Gon, Killua chopped at his jaw with handle of his club. The warrior grunted, eyes rolling back—six—as he collapsed, but now Amane blocked Killua’s path, shield ready, and armed with her own club, which was embedded with Kukuroo greenstone. 

“Oh, come on,” he groaned. Her weapon would not be easily stopped. Canary was also approaching, hefting the slim brass-knobbed staff that had practically been her extra limb since she first arrived in the village as a child. Killua's arms already felt like lead.

She swung at his ankles, forcing him to leap. He parried Amane’s club while he was still in mid-air, with a heavy thwack that jarred his shield arm. The force of her blow sent him skidding as he landed on the wet threshold, the angle creating a brief opening which Canary slipped through.

Killua put his back to the door frame, unable to turn away from Amane. At the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of Gon and Canary facing off, then heard the ring of wood on wood. Gon’s loud grunt sent urgent energy surging through Killua. 

Gon was fresh to the fight, and normally he’d be stronger than Canary, but the seawater had sunk, barely covering the soles of Killua’s feet. The retreating water would be taking Gon’s strength with it. And Illumi must know that.

“I honestly thought this would be more of a challenge,” Illumi called.

Killua launched a ferocious flurry of blows at Amane’s shield, pushing her back, denying her the chance to strike at him. If only he could use his magic. He could still feel the storm vibrating through him; still hear the spirit’s voices in his skull. But Illumi was right about his lack of control. He needed both mental focus and his hands to wield the magic. Illumi had refused to allow him the use of either. He had to stop fighting to release the power he owned.

“Amane,” he gasped. “Stand aside. Nanika has asked me to bring Illumi to her. You know she’s the true guardian of this village. She loves us. She’s trying to save you from the harm he does. Let me take him.”

Her fierce green-grey eyes didn't lose focus. Her club flowed unerringly, at one with her strong slim frame as she twisted, taking his next blow with her shield, angling to let it slide past as she smashed at his ribs. 

He knocked her club away with his own shield, pushing past the pain of his worn out muscles. “Amane—when I take him, Alluka will return,” he panted. “She’ll guide our requests to Nanika. No one else need die. But how many more will Illumi sacrifice? Canary could be next—don’t think you’re immune. Don’t think he's just protecting this village. How many people did he murder to place this curse on me?” 

Her mouth tightened, her brow creased.

“Killua,” Gon called. “The tide!”

“Please, Amane!” His repeated blows were beating her back; her defence becoming less passionate. He was reaching her.

But Illumi must have realised: his hands rose in a complicated gesture, forming a sigil. He was looking past Killua, out the doors.

“No!” Killua yelled. Amane no longer mattered. He dropped his shield to free his hand, fending her off with his club alone. Urgently, he sketched his own sigil to block Illumi’s.

Amane slammed the edge of her shield into his forearm above his wrist brace. Feeling his bones shatter, he screamed: “Gonnn! Dive!”

Simultaneously, Illumi spoke the word that released his attack.

Magic flared from the airborne symbol in front of him in a crackling, shimmering circle. The fiery orange edge licked at the air as it expanded, consuming all other sound. Illumi’s form rippled behind it as if through a heat haze.

It felt as though everything slowed as Killua watched the magic flicker over Amane, leaving her unharmed, then her shield and sword, before it enveloped him, snapping against his skin, blackening and smoking as it crossed the silver that still trickled over him. For all the good that would do now. His nostrils filled with the noxious stench. 

He could hear himself screaming as he turned, following the path of the magic that could not harm him. It flickered over the carvings on the doors, then reached Canary outside, corruscating off her bunched hair and brown skin, making the mist around the deck glow. It left her unharmed as she held her staff braced horizontally, facing Gon as he fell back on one knee in a slosh of water. 

Gon’s long hair whipped behind him in the wind. He was frowning, jaw firm, eyes dark, intensely focussed upon the approaching edge of power. As it reached for him, its reflection shone from his wet skin and irises like an angry sunset. He flung his arms up, dropping his shield and club, bracing fists and forearms in a futile block.

“Gonnnnnnn!” Killua screamed, and crumpled to his knees as his world sundered.

✧

Chapter Text

There was no room in Killua’s awareness for anything but Gon’s last moments. 

Down on one knee, Gon held his arms braced, forearms and the sides of his fists pressed tight before his face, as if they could protect him. The crackling orange edge of magic was almost upon him. He did not look away at Killua’s scream; he did not flinch back from the power. He remained firm as a spirit stone before the onslaught of a tidal wave, eyes blazing with an unquenchable inner flame. Killua’s throat thickened at his courage; he could not breath for the ache in his chest.

Gon shouted in a strange tongue, his fins fanning out from his forearms, forming a spiny shield. The power met him with a searing crack! and a blinding flash of green. The Shadow House shook as the magic bent around him, its sparks carving a path through the mist that left him untouched. “Your magic won't work on me, Illumi,” he yelled. “I'm used to fighting monsters."

Tears of relief blurred Killua’s vision—he could scarcely comprehend what had just happened—everything glowed green with the light from the patterns that shimmered on Gon’s fins—protective sigils he must have been born with. But as the world returned to Killua, he realised that while Gon had been shielding himself, Canary had slipped down onto the step behind him.

“Gon, behind you!” 

His warning came too late—she snapped her staff down over Gon’s head. He snatched it with both hands as she tried to pull it back against his throat, bracing him against her stomach, ready to crush his windpipe.

Before the taboo had been broken, he would have been able to push the staff away; even on land, his honed muscle enough to combat the undoubted strength in her smaller frame. Yet he trembled with the strain, the muscles cording in his forearms and chest. He grimaced, desperation in his eyes as he found Killua’s. “The—the tide…”

Killua lurched forward, but felt the sharp, unmistakeable burn of a blade at his own neck. Amane had taken advantage of his distraction and was now behind him, having pulled her dagger from the sheath at her hip. A warm trickle ran down between his collarbones. 

Reflex tightened his fist around his club—

“Drop it, Killu,” Illumi said. “Or Canary will break Gon’s neck.”

“Don’t do it, Killua!”

“Give Amane your wrists. Let her bind them behind your back.”

Fuck. Killua could see Gon fighting the sea’s retreat, just like when they’d tried to hold each other on the beach. It was pulling him back into Canary. He was struggling to thrust the staff away from his neck, groaning with effort, powerless to stop her doing whatever Illumi ordered. 

Killua could free himself from Amane’s dagger, but he’d never reach Gon in time to stop him dying. He had no choice other than to do as he was told. 

He dropped his club; it thudded to the floor as he put both wrists behind him, unresisting, even when Amane removed the blade from his neck. He felt the rope wrap both his wrists, looping between them and pulling even tighter. As the broken bones in his arm shifted, he hissed through gritted teeth. He would only be able to dislocate the other hand in order to escape if he had the chance. It would slow him.

“Bring him to me,” Illumi ordered.

Amane’s dagger pricked his lower back. Obediently, he rose and stepped over the groaning bodies of his assailants to stand an arms-length from Illumi, but could not resist using his superior height to look down his nose at him.

“Kneel,” Illumi said.

Killua stiffened.

“I said, kneel. Or, I will have Canary—“

He sank to his knees, not breaking his sullen stare. 

“Killua,” Gon groaned behind him.

“Better.” The shadows in Illumi’s eyes flooded his irises. As Killua shivered with revulsion, a cold hand arrived on his brow and stroked his hair back, and he had to force himself to stay still. Illumi said softly, “You realise I planned for this possibility?”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

Illumi seemed oblivious to Killua’s tone. “When I first learned you were fucking a sea-dweller, I thought you were being clever: seducing him in order to help you defy my curse. I knew there was a chance he could save you from drowning.”

“That is not why I…” He clamped his mouth shut.

“Oh, I realised that when you announced you wished to marry him. You were actually entranced by him, like in the legends—”

“I never,” Gon gasped weakly in the background.

“—and you hadn’t guessed the condition I’d placed for the curse to work. So, I’m pleased to see your mind is finally working. You figured it out. I suppose, really, you did well, considering how long ago you abandoned—”

“Will you never get over that?”

Illumi shrugged. “You always act like that’s unimportant. Yet that’s why I expected you wouldn’t know how to use your magic, even if you claimed it—I only had to draw things out.” His gaze took in the servant-guards recovering on the floor. “Well, that’s over. You understand that even if I don’t kill him, Gon will now die because of you?”

Killua didn’t answer. He didn’t know what Illumi meant. Gon was weakening, yes, but he wouldn’t die if Illumi didn’t order it. Rain pelted the roof and thunder rumbled outside. It was harder to hear Gon’s struggles past them than it had been. Killua’s palms were suddenly sweating. He twisted the hand he could move, testing his bindings though Amane’s dagger pressed deeper between his shoulder blades. Illumi was a fraud taking Alluka’s rightful place, yet he was also strangely honest. He believed everything he said was true. He lacked the imagination to lie. 

 “Did he not tell you? If Gon can’t go with the sea when it leaves, his life force will rejoin it anyway. That is why he weakens. His body will then die. A consequence of breaking the taboo.”

Killua’s stomach lurched. “Gon! Is that true?” 

Gon was silent. 

“Can you hear me, Gon? I need you to answer.”

“Killua…I’m sorry.” A hoarse groan that somehow still managed to sounded defiant.

Killua’s head dropped and he stared at the hem of Illumi’s robe. “Let him go. I’ll give you anything you want.”  

“Ah. You didn’t know.” Cold fingers lifted Killua’s chin. The shadows in Illumi’s eyes were reaching for him. His head swam. How much time did Gon have? Killlua strained at his bonds, twisting his hand, intending to dislocate the bones—and screamed as something smashed into the broken bones in his forearm. His eyes watered. That had been Amane’s boot.

“Promise you’ll let Gon go safely, and I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” 

Illumi traced his jaw and his chin trembled. His cheeks stung.

“Killua, no!” Gon sounded broken.

“Anything,” Killua whispered through his teeth. I love you, Gon.

“Killua, don’t…”

 Illumi gripped Killua’s chin. “I will consider it. In the meantime, I expect your obedience.” He drew a long brass pin from inside his robe, and brought it before Killua’s eyes. “You remember this.” The round brass head glinted between his forefinger and thumb. “It’s better if you don’t resist. More of your mind will survive.”

His whole body tensed. “You’re taking my memories of Gon.”

“Yes. But there’s nothing to fear. You’ll feel peaceful when I’m done. It’s a simple process—I merely pierce your forehead, then twist your memories around the spindle. When I pull the needle out, they come too.”

“I won’t know if you’ve spared his life. If you want my co-operation, let him go now.”

“Mm.” Illumi tilted his head. “I have finished considering. If I spare his life, there’s a remote chance Gon will find a way to return. Then he’ll kill me. No, I can’t let him go.”

Killua tried to wrench his jaw away, but Illumi’s grip tightened. Another blow to his broken arm had him fighting back a scream. “Force this on me,” he snarled, “and you’ll never control me. I’ll resist until my mind breaks.” 

“Canary,” Illumi said, “kill G—“

“No!” Killua licked his lips. “Fuck! I’ll—I’ll do what what you want.” Bile burned the back of his throat, but he had to keep Gon alive, hope for a chance to escape.

“Look at me,” Illumi demanded. His eyes were deep dark wells. Around him, the room swayed.

“No, Kil—“

Gon’s voice was choked off.

Dread lined Killua’s stomach as Illumi brought the needle to his forehead and he felt the tip prick. He clenched his teeth as Illumi pressed it in. The voices in his skull screamed in protest. The vestibule rattled with the renewed force of the storm. His body shook with denial and fury, but if he tried to scream a command, Illumi would order Gon killed.  

Illumi’s hand shifted to cover Killua’s mouth, as if he knew what he’d just been thinking.

A mistake. 

It showed he still feared Killua’s magic. Despite all Illumi had said, and the fact that Killua’s hands were bound and Amane’s dagger pressed between his shoulder blades, a burning reminder that she was still behind him.

It meant Killua didn’t need his hands to wield his magic. Maybe he didn’t need his voice either. He’d used no words of power. Not like Gon just had. He’d simply commanded.

He had to grasp the storm with his mind alone. If that was possible. If he didn’t, Gon would die. 

But now Illumi was murmuring a chant, his voice black and silken. 

The words caressed and entreated, and a drug-like stupor swelled through Killua’s mind. His eyes rolled up to the long pale fingers twisting the brass head of the needle. He could feel it burrowing into his skull.

In a slow drip of thought, he understood. Illumi had stopped him using his magic before by keeping his hands busy with his weapons. Even his voice, engaging him with that taunting. He should have stopped fighting and let them break his arms as he raised them, and screamed while he still could—for lightning. If the storm would do that at his call. He didn’t know. To find out, he would have had to give in to his attackers—and risk everything.

And now—Illumi was occupying his mind in the same way he’d made sure the fight occupied Killua’s hands. If this was also tactical— 

His mind swam. 

He felt the needle in a way that went beyond physical pain. Hard to think. Easier to let it happen. The needle tugged at his most recent memory of Gon, drawing it to the surface—so vivid and sparkling he barely saw Illumi anymore. Only Gon, long black hair tossing in the wind, muscles rigid as he braced facing the sigil, eyes flashing gold.

As Killua’s own muscles tensed in empathy, pain jagged through his wrists. He gasped as it brought him back to the present. That memory was the end of a thread that would secure all the rest. He had to focus—he could not let Illumi do this.

If this was tactical…the same tactic—his only chance was to do what he hadn’t before.

He had to ignore what Illumi was doing to him and give up resisting. Give up his memories of Gon, if that was the cost. Let that needle twist and leave himself open to harm while he focussed only on his magic. Because even if he forgot Gon, he could still save him.

The needle burned through his brow and his mind. He could hear the spirits shrieking, but their voices were drowned as other memories flooded him in the wake of the first—

Gon’s embrace, strong around him, lifting him through the crashing waves as he gasped for breath—

Clinging to each other in the howling wind on the beach, Gon’s skin tearing through his nails—

A terrible ache in his chest, his throat raw with cries as he searched fruitlessly for Gon—

Drawing the whalebone comb through Gon’s dark tresses, then parting them with his fingers. Leaning down, pressing his lips to the warm scales at the back of Gon’s neck—

Rolling under Gon’s weight in the grass, comparing their strength; the bright gold river of Gon’s laughter, the sunlit flash of his smile—

Sliding his hands inside Gon’s spread thighs and leaning down, his mouth wet. Flattening his tongue and licking up Gon’s beautiful flushed cock; heart thudding at his gasp—

Cocooned in the dark, warm under their blankets, heavily entwined with Gon, bathed in the afterglow of sex. Safe even after he’d broken; more whole than he’d ever been—

No—

I’m not safe; Gon’s not safe—

His eyes stung as he fought to pull away from the flow of his past—he must ignore it all, no matter how precious. He slowed his breathing; he mustn’t panic. I have to save Gon. That was all that mattered—that white-hot blaze at the centre of his heart. He gave himself to it. He let it flame through his lungs and into his limbs until it consumed him and overflowed and spread up the threads that bound him to the storm. He could feel the silver again, oily trickles sliding over his face around the burning of the needle. He shook with the force of it even as the needle burrowed and he leaned into Illumi’s grip on his jaw. 

He didn’t need his hands or his voice. Only the heat in his heart, to drive his will home. Something his brother would never understand. His lips peeled back under Illumi’s cold fingers, and he stared up into his brother’s eyes. The shadows there flinched from him. He let the storm carry his consciousness up to where they couldn’t touch him, into the shadows that belonged to him now, scores of them, in the clouds high above the Shadow House. There among them, he drank lightning.

It suffused him. It would do as he willed. He hurled it all down.

It sizzled through the roof of the Shadow House.

White—

—he was on his knees, deafened by thunder. The pressure at his forehead vanished; the ropes that bound his wrists dropped away. He could smell burning. Raindrops hit his face and shoulders. 

He hauled in deep breaths, still shuddering. Moans slowly rose behind him as his hearing and vision returned.

 Through a veil of smoke, Illumi lay before him, splayed on his back. Miraculously unburnt in the centre of the charred circle that surrounded them both. The bloodied brass needle lay a foot from his hand.

Killua had understood that the lightning would not harm its master, just as the wind had curled around him when it blew the doors down. But for Illumi to survive in such pristine condition meant he must have sensed what Killua was doing and simultaneously called on all the magic he possessed to preserve himself. 

He’d survived, but that must have drained him.

Killua grabbed the needle. “Gon?”  

Hopefully the fact he remembered Gon was here meant he still had all his memories. He could still remember Gon fighting Illumi’s sigil—if that was the first memory, the rest should be safe. He’d forced Illumi to choose between stealing them and saving himself.

Killua rose, glad to find he could still stand. Burning shingles lay scattered among the bodies on the floor. Smoke blew through the room and escaped above through the charred rafters.

“K-Killua?” Past the doorway, Gon lay on his stomach, staring round-eyed in either awe or disbelief.

A weight slid from Killua’s shoulders. “You’re alive!” He heaved a breath. “Let’s go. Can you get in the boat okay?”

“I think so.” Gon pushed himself backwards to the steps, the strain in his face easing slightly as he lowered his legs down into the water.

Nearby, Canary was picking herself up. Killua eyed her, but he was sure she wouldn’t touch Gon without Illumi ordering her to do it. He kicked his brother over and grabbed the back of his collar with his good hand.

He dragged him towards the door, past Amane, who lay sprawled, her tunic full of smoking holes, some of which were still glowing at the edges. Her dagger had ended up a few strides away next to one of the fallen altars. She shrank back as he passed.

Canary ran inside. “Master Killua—let me fetch your weapons.”

He nodded, and awkwardly hauled Illumi outside one-handed, onto the deck. It felt fitting to leave the Shadow House charred and smoking, even if the rain had put the fire out before it could burn down like his and Gon’s hut.

The water was swirling back past the longhouses in the direction of the sea. Much of the mist had cleared, but the clouds were still heavy, the purple-grey of dusk. He dragged Illumi to the edge of the deck. Gon was waiting in the boat, clearly more comfortable now he was sitting in the partially submerged hull, feet covered in water.  The gunwale was knocking against the second step down; the flood had dropped substantially. Gon had already spread out the net, and as Killua approached, held his arms ready to help manoeuvre Illumi’s unconscious body.

“Are you strong enough?” Killua asked.

“For this, yes. I’ll be better when we get out to sea. What about you, though?” Gon aimed a pointed look at Killua’s broken forearm.

“I can manage—shit.” It was awkward, moving Illumi. Using his good arm, Killua had to jerk his brother’s collar up to stop his head falling underwater while nudging him down the steps with one foot. “I’d rather he didn’t drown before we reach Nanika.” 

“Here.” Gon reached under Illumi’s shoulders and dragged him over the side of the hull with as much sympathy as he’d give a sack of seaweed. 

 Canary arrived with Killua’s shield and club. “I’m sorry, Master Gon.” She frowned, looking down at him in the boat. “I tried not to harm you too much. If it had come to it, I would have rendered you unconscious and thrown you back into the water.” Her large grey eyes lifted back to Killua, and she added in a low, earnest voice. “I want you to know, I would never kill your husband.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He mustered a weak smile. “I consider you my friend.” It felt wrong to thank her for being unwilling to murder Gon, and it was twisted that somehow, he even had an urge to. Twisted that he felt grateful to her for acknowledging Gon as his husband. 

“I am your friend,” she said.

“All the same, had you killed Gon, even on Illumi’s orders, I would have killed you.”

She flushed. “Master Killua, I would never.”

“I know that now. I couldn’t be sure at the time.” He sighed, glancing down at Gon, who had already bound Illumi’s ankles proficiently, tightly enough to be painful, and was now doing the same with his wrists behind his back. “Canary—” he returned his attention to her “—Alluka will come back soon. She’ll need a friend. Not just a servant-guard, but someone who cares for her. Can you be there?”

She bowed her head. “I’ll do everything I can for her. I promise.”

✧

All Killua had to do now was guard Illumi until they arrived back in the heart of Nanika’s territory. He should probably have felt some sense of victory, but as Gon steered them away from the Shadow House, and as Killua looked down at Illumi trussed on the bottom of the hull between them, seemingly helpless, there was a strange heaviness in his chest. He was about to hand his brother over to his death. 

This wasn’t an honourable death in battle. This was a cold administration of justice. And part of him could not help wondering if he did not deserve the same, for what he’d done when he was young.

Would it satisfy the spirits? He could still feel them—he wasn’t free from the curse yet, though the storm was abating. How cruel a death would Illumi’s be, compared to those he’d dealt? Could simply losing his life be punishment enough? It didn’t feel it, compared to the prolonged suffering of the hundreds of people he’d murdered.

Killua should not feel regret or doubt about doing this. Maybe he was just too weary, in too much pain, to overcome the sickness in his stomach.

He chose to focus instead on Alluka’s return. She, out of everyone in this village, was innocent of wrong. She would bring them a new, better future. And he couldn’t wait to see her again—to talk about everything that had happened to both of them. And he would introduce her to Gon.

As they passed between the longhouses, it was easier to see than it had been. Although the light was fading, the rain had eased. He had his back to the prow, so that Gon, facing him and steering, could see where they were going, and in the remaining rays of sunset that slipped beneath the clouds, he recognised warriors he’d grown up with or fought beside among those sitting on the roofs watching. Several were pointing at him; he heard his name shouted. 

“Killua,” Gon said, with a lopsided smile, “you’re glowing.” 

He looked down at himself—at his chest and arms. The magic still blew across his skin, the silver growing luminous in the dusk.

“It’s all through your hair, too. And running over your face. No wonder they’re all staring.”

He narrowed his eyes at the villagers. “It’ll probably last as long as the storm does. But since I’ve got their attention… Can you keep the boat steady?” There was one last thing he should do.

He stood in the boat and stretched his arms wide, encompassing them all. “Hear me! Everyone!”

He willed the wind to still—it was as simple as a thought. The village grew quieter, the slosh of water and the bumping and creaking of debris his only competition.

“I am Killua Zoldyck,” he yelled, for any who hadn’t realised. “And here is your Guardian Mage!” He looked around, gesturing down at Illumi, pausing to let them absorb that fact. “This flood is part of the curse he wrought! Forged from the spirits of those he murdered—among them were people you loved. They didn’t die to protect you. They died because he wanted to control me. He abused his power. He is not fit to be Guardian.” 

Head high, he listened for dissent. For now, nothing. No doubt there would be talk later. 

“So listen well,” he shouted. “I am taking him to Nanika for judgement. Lady Alluka will return in his place—as your Guardian Priestess. You will respect her. You will do as she says. And remember: I called the lightning that struck the Shadow House and defeated Illumi. Do not underestimate me. Make Lady Alluka welcome.”

He stared around at them defiantly. 

The boat shuddered, entering turbulent water. He remained standing as long as he could, looking back at his flooded village, letting those nearby see him as Gon steered them through the debris towards the low opening that now existed in the wall: the top of the gate arch. 

“Killua,” Gon warned, and Killua sat, wincing at the stabbing pain of his rib. He grabbed the gunwale, ducking his head as the water sucked them under the stones. In the dark of the passage, Nanika’s pale light was just visible alongside the hull, a stream within the wider flood, guiding them on.

✧

Chapter Text

The torrent of water crashed around them through the arch and spat them out in a battering series of jolts. As the village wall receded behind Gon, who was steering, the flood grew calmer, dispersed across the valley. Tangles of debris swirled along the wide path through the palm forest, which now rose bedraggled, higher above the water. The slosh of the paddle under Gon’s command and the flow of water along the hull was soothing after the fight, though Killua couldn’t relax entirely. He kept a careful eye on Illumi’s limp, unconscious form. 

But mostly, he watched Gon. 

His hair was swept back from his fine brow in dishevelled ropes. As he corrected their course, the muscles in his upper body flexed with renewed strength now he was surrounded by saltwater, returning with it to the sea. Behind Killua, the clouds had lifted at the horizon, and Gon’s eyes caught the last rays of the sunset. The light burnished his skin, glistening off the bruises on his face, arms and torso where Canary had beaten him. 

Killua wanted to sit with him and feel his solid warmth, but he didn’t want to risk delaying Gon’s return to the ocean. He wanted to glide his fingers over the bruises Gon had earned trying to aid him. His throat thickened as he kept reliving the moment the deadly, crackling edge of magic had approached Gon, and his chest kept hitching at the thought—what if? He stared at the fins on Gon’s forearms, so beautiful with their delicate spines. Less fragile than he’d thought. Unlike himself. His heart felt like a fractured crystal held together only by the finest of webs. 

Those unearthly golden eyes turned to him, and Gon must have seen something in his face. “Are you all right, Killua?”

“Yeah. It’s just…I thought I’d lost you.” He stared down between his knees at the net binding Illumi. Fists clenching, he dragged in a breath, fighting the hot prickle in his eyes before he looked up again. “I didn’t know you could do that thing. With your fins.” 

“Oh. Deflect the magic?”

“Yeah. That.”

“I told you I fight magical creatures. That’s part of my defence.”

“Obviously.”

 Gon frowned. “You never tried fighting me that way, so I never showed you.” 

“I guess I was hardly going to throw deadly sigils at you.” A wry smile tugged the corner of Killua’s mouth. He shook his head, puzzled. “I thought they were secret to my family.”

“Those sigils are part of me—I was born with them. But training to use them is a sacred rite among my people. We don’t share that knowledge, either.” 

Gon’s brow creased as he looked down. When their eyes met again, Killua knew they were thinking the same thing. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“We don’t know what happened, Killua.”

“But my ancestors must have met yours, and—”

“Mine might have told yours willingly.”

They both hesitated, then at Killua’s scowl, Gon continued, “You’re only guessing what happened back then. That knowledge could have come from many places. Monsters have similar magic. And sea-mages. And if it came from my people, your brother didn’t know it.” A scathing look at Illumi. “I’m sure he thought he would kill me.” 

“Even if he did know, he would have tried it to distract me during the fight.”

Gon swept the paddle emphatically through the water. “I never doubted you, Killua.”

“You should have.” He winced, remembering how he’d felt. “I had no idea I could call lightning.”

“You were incredible!”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I had no choice.” But his cheeks heated with pleasure at the unguarded praise. To cover his embarrassment, he narrowed his eyes accusingly. “You didn’t tell me you’d die if you were stranded.”

“I knew you’d get him in time.”

“You should have told me!” 

“But you did it. I’m fine.” 

“That’s not the point, idiot!” Killua ignored the pain in his ribs and leaned over Illumi to jab Gon’s chest. “You have to tell me these things.”

“Ehhh!” Gon pouted, wriggling back. “It was just a small detail.”

Killua rolled his eyes. “An incredibly important one!” But his heart clenched at Gon’s pout and scrunched brow. He didn’t know how much time they had left and the last thing he wanted was to spend it arguing. “Yeah. You’re fine.” 

Better than fine. He was wonderful in more ways than Killua had known. Able to fight magic. Willing to give his life for Killua’s sake—although, thank the spirits, he had survived.

The underside of the clouds turned fiery with the last of the sun’s rays, then faded into formless darkness over the hazy landscape. As they slid out from the palm forest at the submerged river mouth and into the bay, the smell of mud dissolved into that of salt water. Nanika’s light streamed past the hull, glowing off their wet skin. 

“This—this has been really hard,” Killua said. “All of it.”

“Yeah.” Gon’s tone was as rough as their passage as he guided them over a series of smallish waves. “But we’re nearly there, we just have to hand him over.”

“Yes. And, then. We don’t know what happens after that.”

“You’re my husband. I want you back.”

“I want you.” Killua’s voice cracked. Silence stretched between them as neither of them spoke of what they both knew: that there was no guarantee Nanika could undo the effect of the taboo. “Maybe she can undo my curse,” he said after a time. “Then I can come out to you. I could build us a shelter on this boat. So we could at least sleep together.”

“That would be something,” Gon said. But he frowned. “Killua, I want more. That won’t even be what we had. I’ve been thinking about—everything. I wish we could spend as much time together as we want, day and night. I want to go places with you, see new things.”

Killua stared out into the darkening waves. Of course he’d yearned for more; however, under the circumstances he’d been grateful he had Gon at all. But Gon had a whole ocean open to him. He’d often spoken longingly of other places. “I always imagined you’d want to go away sometimes. But I’m willing to wait for you. Are you saying, what we had isn’t enough?”

“No. That’s not what I mean. I’d rather be with you half the time than not at all. I just want more.” Gon sighed. “I know it’s selfish.”

“I’d like more too,” Killua said, and Gon’s gaze locked onto his. “It’s always been hard. I hate us being separated by the sea. I hate that I might never find out if something bad happens to you. Like, if you’re attacked by some monster out here, I won’t be able to help. Those first days you were gone—before I knew what had happened…”

Gon reached over and took his hand. “Killua…” 

The rope net scratched his foot as Illumi shifted. Killua sighed and reluctantly released Gon’s fingers. “He’s waking up.” 

They were now well away from the shore and all the signs of his curse were returning. Magic prickled his skin and the wind blew in strong gusts. The waves and mist were rising, glowing in Nanika’s light. He was so very weary of this. But what was a curse if it did not make you feel cursed?

He hoped it made Illumi miserable. Already tied painfully, he’d be even less comfortable now, lying facing Killua in the water collecting at the bottom of the hull. His eyes were closed beneath the rope mesh and the messy wet strands of his hair, but his shoulders shifted. He was testing the bonds at his wrists. His whole body heaved, pushing against the net. 

He must be realising his predicament. 

Killua took up his dagger. He no longer felt any connection to the storm, and the silver magic had disappeared. He’d have to survive drowning again to get it back. That meant he was left with only his natural resources if Illumi decided to fight using magic. Hopefully he was still drained after surviving the lightning.

He wondered if the curse would end with Illumi’s death. Or should he torture him to find out how to break it? This could be his last chance to learn how to end it before it lasted the rest of his life. With the tip of the dagger, he shifted a lock of Illumi’s hair, revealing his ear and the side of his neck. He ran his gaze over colourless skin, assessing opportunities. 

A muscle flickered at the corner of Illumi’s jaw.

Killua clenched his fist around the handle, but lifted the blade away. Any torture would only be sickening and useless. They’d both suffered the same training; Illumi would no more break than he would. 

“Killua—I can feel her,” Gon said. “She’s almost here.”

“Good.” The rim of the hull rolled dangerously near the water, and spray pelted them as the waves broke, but the sea wasn’t as high as when he’d had to face drowning. His stomach tightened nonetheless, caught between hope and trepidation.

As if he could sense Killua’s anxiety, Illumi’s eyes opened, black as a seal’s, rolling up to challenge him. "Don't you think this has gone far enough now, Killu? You've made your point.” 

Killua’s heart sank. Was that all he thought this was about? Making a point?

“You’ve destroyed my authority,” Illumi continued, with a bitter twist to his mouth, “and shown you’re stronger than me. Mother and Father will be impressed. Our people will want to follow you, especially after the strength of the flood and the way you called lightning. You’ve shown your talent. Return with me, and I will vow to serve you.”

Killua gritted his teeth. As if he wanted any of that. But replying was pointless.

“I realise you’re angry.” Illumi wriggled, trying and failing to shift the hair from his eyes. “You need to put your feelings aside and think clearly. When you return and take your place, you’ll need my help. You don’t yet have the experience to lead. But I trained you when you were young—“

“Shut up.” 

“—and I care about your future more than anyone.” 

Killua snorted. 

Illumi thrashed, banging against the struts. “Killu! I always worked in your best interests—even when you failed to see them. Everything I did was for your sake.” 

“You have no right to say that. Not after all your threats.”

 Illumi thumped against the sides of the boat. “Family is everything!” The muscles corded in his neck and he rolled his shoulders back.

“Gon, if he tries to dislocate his hands, break his wrists.”

“Okay,” Gon said.

Illumi’s movements subsided. “We need each other to survive, Killu. We wouldn’t have the power we have today without generations who were loyal to one another. Family is sacred. I am your brother. There is no way you can do this to me.”

“And yet, you tried to kill our sister.”

“He is not part of our family! Killu—” Illumi licked his lips “—I will rescind your curse. You can go with Gon. Anywhere you want. You will not be forced to marry that girl. Just—take me back to shore.”

Killua lifted his eyes to see if Gon had heard. 

“Don’t,” Gon said. “It’s not right. We’ll find a way. You need to hand him over.”

“Killu—”

“I said, shut up.” 

Killua grabbed a heavy pile of wet rope from behind him and dumped it on Illumi’s head so he didn’t have to look at him or hear him anymore. Muffled curses rose from under the rope and Illumi continued to struggle ineffectively. Gon threw the paddle down on top of him, hard, and reached over for Killua’s hand. “We’re out far enough now. Come here.” 

He let Gon help him across. Gon’s seat was wider, with just enough room for both of them to squash in. As Killua sat, Gon wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and despite the pain in his rib, he huddled into Gon’s side, soaking in his presence. 

Gon rubbed his shoulder. “You’re freezing.” 

“I’m okay.” He felt Gon’s hand shake. His brow was furrowed, his lips pinching. How much time did they have left, Killua wondered. Moments or a lifetime? He rubbed Gon’s spine, wanting to comfort them both.

“I don’t want to say goodbye again,” Gon blurted, and bit his lip. 

He pushed his fingers up through Gon’s hair and curled them around his nape. “Nor do I.” His voice broke on the last word—he leaned into Gon’s mouth, claiming him and seeking to reassure. Gon cupped his jaw firmly and returned everything he gave. Through the pain of Killua’s broken bones, the kiss felt defiant, filled with courage. As their tongues swept together with familiar intimacy, inarticulate sounds sprang from his throat. 

They kissed for a long time. When they broke apart, Gon’s eyes glinted beneath his lashes. Killua was no longer cold; in fact, he was hard. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I want to straddle you.”

“Do it.” Gon eased his hand around Killua’s waist with warm, encouraging pressure.

“But Nanika…” He licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder. His brother was safely under the pile of ropes, facing the other way. And Nanika was a sea serpent—why would she care?—so what the fuck was he worrying about?

He swung his leg over Gon and slid onto his lap, helped by a strong grip on his ass. As the boat pitched him backwards, he tucked his heels under the seat behind Gon and trusted Nanika’s magic to keep them safe in the waves. Hanging onto Gon’s neck with his good arm, he curved back and tilted his hips up. “You’ll have to undo my pants.”

“Mmm, Killua.” Gon cupped Killua’s bulge through the fabric and squeezed it, then palmed the ridge of his cock. Heat swelled through him and he groaned, lifting into Gon’s hand. “You’re at my mercy,” Gon said with a throaty laugh. Killua’s heart fluttered. It had been too long since he’d heard that.  

“Only because of my arm. Undo me, then I’ll sit on you properly.” Looking down into Gon’s half-lidded eyes, he doubted he’d have to wait long. When his gaze dropped past Gon’s hand down into the shadows between them, he thought he could see—ohh, yes. Pushing through the strands of Gon’s skirt, catching just enough light to be visible, the smooth head of his erection. 

He rocked against Gon’s palm. “Hurry—ohh!” He groaned at another squeeze. With a pleased grin, Gon tugged his pants open. A thrill tightened his belly as fingers gripped his freed length and stroked him. He was already so hard that when the boat tipped and he slid forward, colliding with Gon’s stomach, the shock went through him like a clap of thunder. He gasped, canting down towards Gon’s shining dark eyes, and drew him into another kiss.

As the boat pitched them back, Gon held him steady with both arms. He rutted against Gon’s stomach, the pressure of Gon’s erection pushing past the opening in his pants and rubbing up the base of his own. Heat thickened through his groin. He swallowed Gon’s moans, needing to be closer. Was this it? All they had left? They couldn’t know. His pants chafed between them, and he moaned frustration into Gon’s mouth.

Gon broke the kiss. “Take them right off.” He tugged Killua’s waistband. “It’s only us.”

It didn’t escape Killua that Gon had just written Illumi off completely. He smiled, releasing a shuddering, bittersweet breath as he leaned their brows together so the boat wouldn’t bump them painfully. “Okay. I’ll have to stand, while you pull them off me.” 

An awkward manoeuvre, with him clutching Gon’s shoulder as the boat tossed, trying to balance and not get his foot caught up in Illumi’s net, but they managed to slide one leg of his pants off completely. A warm shiver rose through him at Gon’s gaze intent upon his heavy, flushed dick, which bobbed, splattered with shining spray as the boat rocked. His other pants leg had pooled around his ankle. When Gon reached down for it, he protested. “No, I’m leaving that.”

“But Killua…” Pulling him by his waist, Gon tilted into him and licked a hot path up his shaft.

“Hnnn—“ He gripped Gon tighter. “Fuck— In case Nanika comes. I might want to grab them fast.” 

Gon removed his skirt as if her arrival was no concern. The want in his eyes made Killua shudder. He twisted his fingers into Gon’s hair around his nape. This time, they both straddled the seat and hooked opposite thighs over one another, spreading themselves and giving them each one foot at the bottom of the hull for balance. As the boat rolled, they slid together, and Killua cried out at the heat of Gon’s thick cock pressed to his.

“Yeah, Killua,” Gon growled low, next to his ear, “like this.” He was careful as he held Killua close, avoiding his ribs with a hand slid over his hip to cup his ass. But he pressed into Killua with his full strength, grinding their shafts together.

 “Yeah!” Killua gasped. “Fuck, that’s better.” 

The pain in his rib interfered with the motion of his hips, and his broken arm still ached. But after the last few days, he couldn’t hold back. He slid his lips eagerly over Gon’s, the heat of their mouths joined by the cold salt spray of the waves. Water ran between their chests. His nipples had hardened, and tingled as they brushed Gon’s skin. Desire was a wildfire rushing through him.

He could hear Gon’s heavy breaths as the skin grew hot between their groins, their rutting clumsy but relentless. Killua gasped as the boat pitched, trapping him between the weight of Gon’s body and the pressure of his hands. When they were tossed next, pain spiked through his side, and the crack of his ass slid onto Gon’s thigh. He ground down onto Gon, feeling his cheeks pushed apart until there was tantalising friction against his entrance. “Gon,” he gasped. “I want you inside me.” 

Gon crushed their mouths together in a savage kiss, then nuzzled his brow. “I want to fuck you, Killua, but I won’t. We don’t have oil, and there’s no time to be careful. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He whined in numb protest, even as he rolled his hips against Gon, fingers curling around his neck. He’d fuck Gon if he could, too, but he was in no condition. He wanted to be as close as they could get. But this was still so good—so very good. Gon’s stomach, hot and slippery against his erection, Gon’s length sliding into the hollow of his pelvis. In the mist and cold spray, Gon was heated iron. 

“Fuck,” Killua murmured, tangling his fingers into Gon’s scalp, pushing against his open mouth and thrusting his tongue in hard. He would drink Gon in with every lick behind his teeth; he would grind and imprint his body upon him. He would take Gon into his skin as surely as he’d been forced to take in his curse, so that they could never truly be parted. He would seep into Gon as they ground together, like water into rock. He would leave his essence with his husband, and take all that he could from him.  

He sucked at Gon’s ear and neck, though sharp pain stabbed the side of his chest. Their grinding grew more frantic until Killua felt, panting hoarsely, that they were part of the tumult of the waves, crashing and collapsing into one another. Desire, hot as dragon’s breath, drowned his pain. He drew Gon’s grunts and cries into his mouth. Gon’s grip was bruising on his spine and hard behind his ass. 

A stomach-lifting roll of the boat tipped them, and the thrusting weight of Gon’s cock realigned with his own. The blissfully hot feel of him had Killua bucking in a frenzy, crying out.

Gon’s neck arched. “Ki—Killuaaa!” He convulsed, surging forward, fingers twisting into Killua’s back, and his thick, hot come streaked their stomachs. Killua thrust desperately into the slickness. His eyes rolled back as he crested. Orgasm tore through him in gusts of pleasure and pain. Clinging to Gon’s neck, he threw his head back and screamed into the storm. “Gonnnnn!”

It was cathartic and raw. A cry of rapture, and of all he knew he might lose. The two feelings spiralled, entwined like him and Gon. He shook with the intensity, clinging to Gon until gradually his muscles weakened. 

The heat of Gon’s mouth found the dip of his collarbone. His chest heaved, and he pressed his mouth down into Gon’s hair. The boat continued to rock them, the endless energy of the sea making him feel the brevity of the time he and Gon had just spent. He didn’t want it to be over. There should be more—more than this. He could feel his blood and Gon’s humming beneath their skin as their bodies pressed.

“Killua.” Gon tilted his face up, dark eyes pleading. “I need you. I hope—I hope so much, I can’t bear it.” 

“So do I,” he said roughly. He cupped Gon’s jaw and kissed him again, lingering to suck at his soft lips. Water ran down their bodies, cooling and cleaning their stomachs as Gon stroked his back and the curve of his ass. He tried to memorise the tender, warm feel of Gon’s hands. 

He became aware of his pants tugging around his ankle as they sloshed in the water in the hull. Gon saw him glance down. “Let me help,” Gon rasped.

He wanted to ignore them, but he nodded. “I guess.” It felt too final. But they still had to hand Illumi over. It was definitely better to be dressed. Gon tied his skirt back on too. Then, Killua straddled him again, and they pulled each other into a hug.

They had only been holding each other for a short while, when the light brightened. Gon lifted his head off Killua’s shoulder and squeezed his waist. “Behind you!”

He twisted to see. The mist was glowing, a dense form gathering within it. 

He slithered clumsily off Gon’s lap onto the seat beside him, wincing at his rib. Gon’s arm slid possessively around his shoulder, and his around Gon’s waist. He felt closer to Gon now, glad for what they’d done, and that helped as he braced for the next step.

As they watched, the mist parted around Nanika’s long ridged snout. Her scales shimmered, dripping light. Then her slanted empty eyes slid into view high above. Killua leaned into Gon, gripping his thigh as the serpent’s bumpy brow and long horns appeared.  

And then—he couldn't breathe. Tears filled his eyes. “Alluka?” 

Already?

Truly?

She stood barefoot upon Nanika's brow, arms wide, gripping a horn in either hand. She wore the same loose-sleeved white blouse he’d last seen her in, combined with a dark pink vest, but her white skirts were replaced with a long, green divided skirt to her ankles. The wide legs billowed behind her in the wind and spray. Killua’s heart pounded, lifting in his chest. Nanika's light streamed all around her, glittering off the beads in her hair. She still wore her headband, which kept her face clear of the black strands that whipped behind her as she beamed down at him, her blue eyes bright. 

"Big brother!"  

“Alluka?!” he shouted. “I can’t believe it—you’re really here!”

“I’m so happy to see you!” She knelt between Nanika’s horns as the serpent’s iridescent head sank alongside the boat, knocking against the gunwale, bringing them closer. One long, slitted eye peered over the side.

Killua could only blink, almost too choked to speak. Gon leaned close to his ear. “This is your sister?” 

“Yeah.” His smile rose through his whole body. “Alluka—this is Gon. My husband.”

Butterflies were somersaulting in his stomach as he watched his sister and Gon. They were both wide-eyed, taking each other in for the first time. The two most important people in his life—he’d so longed for them to meet. His chest swelled with warmth. He couldn’t imagine feeling any happier or prouder. 

Alluka’s gaze roamed Gon and him both, and the close way they were sitting. She would never have seen him like this with anyone else. He expected it might shock her, in a way, but she’d understand when she got to know Gon.

Gon beamed back at her. “Hello, Alluka. Killua’s told me a lot about you.” 

Her cheeks turned pink. “And Nanika’s told me about you.” 

Gon’s eyes went round with surprise—which Killua shared. 

“I heard the two of you had met,” she explained, her gaze shifting to Killua. “But I didn’t know you were close. Especially not that my big brother got married!” She lifted her eyebrows at him.

“We met a while after you left. A lot has happened. Like me being cursed so I couldn’t come see you.” She frowned, and he nodded towards Illumi’s prone form. “And, in the end, I couldn’t have caught him without Gon’s help.”

“Really?” Nanika’s head shifted, and Alluka patted her. “Then she and I owe you both a great deal.”

“But it was mainly Killua,” Gon said, with a wistful look.

 Killua smacked his thigh lightly. “Yeah, you only saved my life a few times.”

“Nanika likes you, Gon,” Alluka added, earnestly. “She said you climbed on her and stroked her. She likes being petted.”

“I was trying to make her feel better. But she threw me away!”

“Oh.” She giggled, leaning forward. “Well, she likes to play.” Then she tilted her head. “So…what did Killua say about me?”

“Alluka!” Killua huffed, toes scrunching.

“That you were the one person he trusted,” Gon said, cuddling his shoulders. “And the only one he loved. And that being with you made him happy, and he missed you.”

As he spoke, Alluka’s chin trembled. “I missed you too, big brother. So much.” 

He wanted to hug her. “I want to hear everything that’s happened to you.”

She nodded. “You will, soon.” Then her fierce eyes pinned Gon. “Do you love Killua?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

Her gaze softened. “And you?”

His cheeks heated. “I love Gon,” he said firmly, needing her to know. “More than anything.” 

“Ohh,” she breathed. Perhaps she’d thought she’d never hear him speak that way—she’d know better than anyone how he must have changed to do so.

Her eyes were glossy. “He’s good for you.” 

“Yeah.” A knot formed in his throat. Leaning into Gon, he felt a kiss pressed into his hair.

As they’d been speaking, Nanika's body had encircled the boat and now shielded them from the worst of the waves, though the wind still tore past, tugging at Alluka's clothes. 

“Big brother.” Her eyes lost their brightness as they lowered to Illumi’s trussed up form. “Nanika says it’s time.”

Illumi, who had been lying still in the bottom of the hull, struggled violently.

✧

Chapter Text

I don't want to sail, I don't want to sail,

I don't want to, I don't want to sail tonight,

Taniwha is waiting for me just below the surface so bright (Yeah)

Even as we speak the Dirty Creature springs a nasty surprise.

(Dirty Creature, 1982, Split Enz )

Killua laid his hand cautiously on Nanika's snout and stroked her scales, since Alluka had said she liked that. They were smooth and slippery under his palm, and he thought he sensed her approval in the way she tilted against him. Incredible that she could be this solid, as permanent as rock, when she was also as light and ephemeral as mist. She was full of contradictions. Ancient, yet childlike in the simplicity of her emotions. Deadly as an army of mages, yet her need love and protect ran ocean deep.

 He could feel the sea rumbling through her. His scars ached in sympathy with the weight of her magic. Her voice blew through his mind, gentle as a zephyr and strong as the tide, pushing the spirits’ voices in his skull back as though they were nothing.

Not that they opposed her. Their clamour had been eager. They could feel what she wanted.

Looking down at Illumi lying helpless in the net, fresh pain sliced through Killua’s chest. He felt suddenly small and a shudder ran through him, as though the child he’d once been flinched from the sight.

It would be easier if Illumi had actually succeeded, back then, at having him cut out his emotions—except those their family approved, such as the pleasure taken in a kill. But after all he’d been through, he now knew he couldn’t bury his heart—and he didn’t want to. He’d only hurt himself more. If he couldn’t feel pain for others, he’d be like Illumi. He wouldn’t love. He wouldn’t have Gon. So he wouldn’t fight the part of himself, formed in childhood when he’d had no choice, that still loved his brother. He would hold that child inside him and weep along with him. He would accept those feelings, just like he did the scars on his body. He would bear them, because they were part of him. They weren’t wrong. But that didn’t mean that this was wrong either.

He climbed back over Illumi and pushed the pile of ropes off him, then took up his dagger and tugged the blade efficiently through the net down Illumi's back. The cords broke and Illumi uncurled as slowly as a freshly exposed grub. He'd been bound so tightly, Killua judged he probably couldn’t stand yet.

Illumi spat hair from his mouth. “Killu—stop this now, and I swear, I'll never harm Alluka or Gon again."

“You’re too late.”

“I am your brother. You cannot do this!”

“No, you’re not. I warned you, remember? Even if I hadn’t, you lost the right to be called that long ago.”

“Our family will never forgive you.”

“That makes no difference,” Killua snapped. “But even if it did, I do no more to you than I already have to myself. Our parents let me give myself to Nanika, and our whole village bore witness.”

And that did something to ease the child he’d been. That day, after everything he’d done over the years alongside Illumi, Nanika had judged him, and had chosen to save him. He had been forced to do all those things, and he’d tried to face his guilt, though it should never have been his. Even if Illumi had originally had no choice either, it was fair he face her too.

“Gon—I need your help to lift him.” His voice was surprisingly steady. He hooked his unbroken wrist under Illumi’s shoulder and Gon took his other side. 

The boat pitched and Illumi flailed and fought their grip, but though Killua was injured, Gon supplied all the extra strength they needed. 

“Alluka has poisoned your mind,” Illumi grated. “Killu—you need to break free. Think! By handing me over, you’re handing our whole family over too. Our parents, our grandfather, all our brothers—our entire village. Over to a monster!” He lurched, snarling curses, but Gon wrenched him back effortlessly. Illumi sagged, his shoulder at an unnatural angle.

“Uh, Killua?” Gon said. “I might have been a little heavy-handed.”

“You’re fine.”

Above them, kneeling on the serpent’s brow, Alluka hummed approval. Nanika reared higher and glided around to look down at them with both eyes. Slowly and deliberately, she opened her jaw, exposing her scimitar-shaped teeth, bringing the bottom row level with the gunwale. The light that poured from the scales of her lips made the place behind her teeth seem even darker, emptier than night. Wind rushed past, chilling Killua’s skin as she inhaled. 

He shivered, adjusting his stance under his brother’s weight. Head dangling forward, face concealed by the long wet strands of his hair, Illumi began to murmur strange words. They cut through the noisy flap of his robes and the crash of waves around them. His hair began to lift with whatever magic he’d been hoarding for this moment. 

Killua tensed, digging his fingers into his brother’s arm. After falling from the cliff, he knew well how easily his grasp could fail if what he was gripping suddenly changed—he couldn’t predict how Illumi’s magic would work.

“Ki-llua,” Alluka called. She was holding Nanika’s horns again. Her eyes and mouth had become wells of black. “Give him to me.”

A whirlwind of shadows gathered around Illumi, scratching at Killua like the talons of small birds and filling the air with their whispers. Through them, Nanika’s light dimmed. Killua glanced across at Gon, who nodded grimly. As one, they hoisted Illumi, who struggled and twisted against their grip until they hurled him into Nanika’s mouth. 

Illumi shouted and power crackled through the air. 

It forced Killua backwards and he cried out as he fell onto his broken arm, vision blurring, eyes watering with sharp pain. But when he blinked frantically to clear them, Illumi was suspended in mid-air on the far side of Nanika’s teeth. His robes were fluttering, his long hair flying towards her throat. Again, he shouted. A sickly yellow glow bloomed around him as he hung there. The bonds at his ankles and wrists burst. Caught in the glow, spirits whirled around him in soft black streaks. 

Nanika brought her jaw up and caged him with her teeth.

“Bring me back!” he screamed. “Killu! You’ll regret this! That cursed creature has tainted you! He’s not even human! Killu! Killu—”

Nanika reared and tossed her head back. 

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

Then the only sound was the sea.

Killua gaze slowly fell down her scales and past the gunwale, to the sliced-through rope netting washing back and forth in the hull by his feet. 

That was all that was left to show Illumi had been here. 

He was gone.

Just like that.

Gon’s arm slid behind his shoulders, helping lift him until the hull propped their backs. He rested his head on Gon’s shoulder, sinking into his embrace as the boat rolled. 

“I’m sorry, Killua,” Gon said.

“It’s okay. I. I’m not.”

As he looked up to find Alluka, he became aware of a different kind of absence. The fog he’d carried in his head for so long he’d almost forgotten its burden wasn’t natural had lifted. His mind felt like it was floating. 

And sounds were clearer: the slap of water against the hull, the slosh of breaking waves. The woodgrain in the gunwale looked crisper. Nanika’s scales as she sank back down shone with more colours than he’d realised.

“Gon… I think the curse has gone. I can’t— I can’t hear the spirits.”

They must have been freed.

They must be travelling, even now, to the islands and beyond the horizon.

His limbs weakened as relief flowed through him and he no longer needed to strain to hold himself together. Gon seemed to sense it, resting his cheek warmly at the crown of Killua’s head, rubbing his arm and stroking his hair.

But not for long, because as Nanika’s snout came level with the boat again, Alluka let go of her horns and slithered down to the edge of the boat. “Big brother—” 

Killua reached forward and gave her his hand; she caught hold and climbed in. “Alluka—” 

They embraced for the first time in forever. He gasped at the pain in his rib when she squeezed him, but he didn’t care that it hurt. She felt lean and strong. Her hair rustled with the painted beads that were a sign of her devotion to Nanika. She smelled of the sea and a sweet nutty fragrance he couldn’t place. He held her as tight as he could, burying his chin in her shoulder as she shook against his chest. Feeling her sob at last, his own tears spilled.

As he held Alluka, Nanika’s massive coils slid around the boat, seemingly endless. The swell heaved, crashing in glittering spray. Killua pressed his temple into Alluka’s hair. Strange how things worked in ways you never imagined. That in trying to regain Gon, he’d regained her instead. That his years of cautious planning alone had failed to defeat Illumi, but a desperately cobbled plan and bursts of inspiration, relying on Gon’s help, had won overnight.

When they finally parted, Alluka seated herself in the prow. Killua stayed with Gon in the bottom of the hull, leaning into him with other seat behind them. Gon hugged his shoulders, shielding him from the breeze. It was time to broach the question that they both so desperately needed Nanika to answer. But Killua’s stomach was oily with dread. What if she couldn’t help them? He clasped Gon’s other hand, resting it on his thigh. 

“Is Illumi dead?” he asked Alluka, stalling to gather his courage.

Her gaze turned inward. “Not yet,” she said eventually. “He’s hard to kill—he still controls a lot of power. He’s fighting to preserve himself.” 

Gon shifted. “But he’s gone?”

Alluka’s eyes and mouth became black hollows, curving as she smiled. “Aye,” Nanika said. 

Feeling Gon’s arm tense, Killua explained, “Gon, this is Nanika.”

“Oh. Wow. Hello Nanika.”

“Gon.” She tilted her head, still smiling. “Gon loves Killua.”

“Yeah, I do.” Gon breathed, sounding awestruck. He squeezed Killua’s hand as Killua pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 

Nanika’s features faded.

“…But he’s good as dead to us,” Alluka finished.

Not quite dead then, but he belonged to Nanika now, and couldn’t hurt anyone. Perhaps this was greater justice than a quick death, Killua thought, prolonging Illumi’s suffering like he had that of the spirits he’d bound.

“Alluka,” he said, “I would’ve come to you if he hadn’t cursed me. I worried about you being alone.” 

She met his fears with a smile. “Don’t worry, Nanika said you couldn’t follow us. You wouldn’t have made it to the islands without her help anyhow. And—I wasn’t alone for long. I made friends.” 

“So there are people there? They must have treated you well.” He couldn’t describe how glad he was to hear that.

“Oh yes. It hurt being separated from Nanika so much of the time—the islands are just outside her territory, so it weakens her to reach them. But my friends helped. I worried about you, though, because I knew you weren’t returning home.”

“I was okay—once I met Gon.” 

He paused. It was the perfect moment to ask. But his heart clenched. He lowered his gaze and licked his lips.

“My friends taught me how to protect myself," Alluka continued, “so I can return home safely. But Nanika will take me back to the island too. When we go, you and Gon should come with us and meet them.”

Gon nudged his knee. “I’d like that, Killua.” He smiled at her, but then his gaze returned to Killua in a silent plea.

“I’d love that,” Killua said. “Also. Alluka…” He swallowed. “I should tell you. The village is a mess. The storm wrecked it.”

“Good.” Her eyes flashed. “It should be rebuilt into something better.” 

He knew she didn’t just mean the buildings. 

There was a pause, in which he gathered his courage. But she spoke first. “Big brother, what about you?” She leaned in, a concerned furrow in her brow. “I always imagined that when I returned, you’d come home with me. But you’re married now—to a sea-dweller. I suppose Gon can’t live in our village, even if he wants to.”

“No. He has to live in the sea.” Killua heaved in a deep breath and met her eyes. “I need to be with my husband. And I want to be near you. But there’s a problem. Gon can’t return to land anymore.” 

Once he started, everything tumbled out, from Illumi breaking the taboo, to his own search for Gon. When he paused to gather his words, Gon added his side of their story—how he’d struggled, but failed to find a way ashore; how terrified he’d been when he’d had to save Killua from drowning. Gon’s voice shook when he described how useless and frustrated he’d felt, unable to help, and then, how he worried he wasn’t worthy of Killua, at which point Killua interrupted, telling him not to be an idiot. 

Their words were really as much for each other as for Alluka. But she listened closely, her gaze flitting between them, concern tugging her mouth into a troubled line.

“I want Gon back,” Killua finished. “We’re hoping Nanika can restore things to how they were before the taboo was broken.” 

“Oh, brother. I can see this means everything to you.” Her brow creased and she plucked at one of her beaded plaits as her eyes lowered. 

Killua’s stomach plummeted like an anchor. He tried to compose his features, to not pressure her if it was impossible. Every flicker of uncertainty across her face caused an answering tightness in his chest. Her lip twisted as she bit the inside. 

When she didn’t answer for a while, he took her hand and squeezed her fingers. He pushed a response past his closing throat. “It’s all right. I know not to expect anything.” 

“It’s as you thought,” Alluka said slowly, to both of them. “Just like you, Gon, Nanika belongs to the ocean. The sea is larger than her magic.”

Her words hit Killua like a landslide. He flinched and stared down his lap. Gon made an incoherent noise and his arm tightened around Killua.

He leaned his brow against Gon’s temple. “My curse is gone. I’ll fix the boat up and come to you at sea.”

“I should’ve woken up that night,” Gon whispered. “If I’d only been more alert and pushed him away before that fucking thing touched me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Ki-llua,” Alluka’s eyes and mouth had filled with Nanika’s darkness. “We love Ki-llua.”

He nodded and swallowed. “Yes. I love you too, Nanika.” It was just hard to think of anyone but Gon right now.

“Killua loves Gon.”

“Yes, I do.”

Her eyes and mouth curved down. “Killua sad.” 

“Yes. Because I want to be with Gon, and…”

Her focus shifted. “Gon loves Killua.” 

“I do,” Gon said, as he had before. 

It sounded too much like their useless marriage vows. Killus bit his lip and blinked hard, trying to crush any tears. 

“Ki-llua change?”

He stared at her, not comprehending, but a shiver ran through him, pricking his skin into goosebumps. Then he looked down at his hands, where his pale skin kept changing colour in the light from Nanika’s scales. She couldn’t mean… No.

“Change?” he asked. “How?"

“Ki-llua belong to the sea.”

His heart thumped once. It felt like an age passed before the next beat. Spray landed on his face and he felt it roll down his jaw.

Impossible. “Do you mean…my body? Like Gon’s? With gills…and fins, and…?”

“Aye.” 

Gon made a strange choking sound. 

Killua gulped. A tingle ran through him: awareness of how he was made. Skin and muscle and bone; whole and broken. Scars, hair and fingernails. He could feel his breath pass in over his lips, his ribs expanding. He touched the side of his neck. Smooth and warm, his pulse soft under his thumb. 

How would gills feel? 

Strange. Potentially vulnerable.

Maybe, wonderful. 

"Nanika,” he said. “That’s very kind." 

And huge. He was shaking. 

“Before I answer, may I speak with Alluka?"

“Aye.” 

Her eyes and mouth dissolved, then Alluka was studying him with a soft but playful smile.

“You know what Nanika offered me,” he said.

“Yes. We talked about it. Do you need time to decide?”

At his side, he could feel the tension in Gon’s body and in his careful silence. “No.” He shook his head. “Alluka…if I do this, I’ll never live among our people again. I’ll never lead them.”

“You never wanted to lead them.”

“But will I still be able to see you?”

“The same way Gon visited you. We can meet near the shore. And when I go to my friends in the islands, you can visit us there even more easily. The islands belong to the ocean too—her currents don’t keep sea-dwellers away.”

He wouldn’t lose Alluka, then. “I see.” He turned to Gon, cupping the side of his jaw, drawing him in. “Gon. How would you feel if I—”

“Happy. I would be so happy.” Gon’s voice cracked, his expression raw with longing. But he frowned. “You—you don’t have to, though. You’re perfect, Killua, just the way you are.”

He blushed, knowing Gon really believed that, although the fact he even said it made it sound like he thought that Killua’s lack of fins and gills would normally be a deficiency. “Our situation isn’t perfect though.” He stroked Gon’s cheek and deliberately frowned slightly. “If I change, I’ll have to eat raw food. I just told you how I hated that.”

Gon’s brows knitted. “If you change, you’ll probably like it as much as I do.”

Killua turned back to Alluka. “I know you said you can protect yourself, sis. But are you sure you won’t need me when you return to the village?”

“I'll always need you,” she said. “But not to save me from them again, not now Illumi has gone. No. I will restore the guardian stone. Then I need to show them Nanika and I are strong and that I don't need anyone else’s protection—so they’ll know they can trust us to guard them,“

“I see.” She really had grown up, filled with confidence and assurance. 

He looked down at himself, at his bruised and sinewy body, bony and scarred. His parents would not believe he was contemplating this. They might forgive him for handing Illumi to Nanika for judgement, but this? They’d never understand. He couldn’t hope for acceptance.

And that was no loss. When had they ever accepted what he wanted?

He’d already left them and built a new life, though it had been a half-formed thing like dawn or twilight, and after all his family had stolen from him over the years, part of him had never fully believed it could last. And it hadn’t. It had disappeared like foam.

But now, potential opened before him, as broad and blazing as the horizon at sunset, and though he couldn’t see what lay beyond, he yearned for its fullness. 

He took Gon’s hand again and threaded their fingers together. “We can be together whenever we want.”

Gon lifted his hand and softly kissed the tips of his fingers. “Whole days and nights, Killua.”

He turned back to Alluka. “It’s so much. There must be a cost.”

“You saved my life.” She touched his cheek. “You brought Nanika and me back together. We want to do this for you and Gon. It will restore the balance.”

“I want this.”

He rose to his knees and slid both arms around her neck and hugged her again, his heart brimming with gratitude. Her hair was wet against his cheek, her arms snug, catching his back. “I’ll come visit you soon," he said in her ear. 

He drew back and drank in her precious face, which was rosy with Nanika’s light. Her blue eyes so like his own, her wind-and-wave roughened skin, slightly peeling across her cheekbones and specked with salt, still beautiful. 

“I’ll expect you, brother,” she said. 

Straightening, she laid her hands on his shoulders. She looked far calmer than he felt, as he knelt before her with his hands on his sodden, ragged pants. 

“Nanika says this might hurt. But you’ll be fine.”

Killua’s insides felt quivery. He twisted and glanced nervously at Gon, who moved in close behind him, circling his waist in a loose but protective embrace and warming his back. “I’m with you, Killua.”

He leaned back on Gon. “You are.” 

The mist around the boat brightened. Alluka’s face changed, and then Nanika smiled at him. She cupped his neck with long cool fingers, so like Illumi’s and his mother’s, yet tender in a way theirs had never been. 

At her touch, power slid beneath his skin. 

He gasped as it spread through him like a cold viscous liquid. His scars hurt. Pain struck both sides of his neck. His head jerked back and he cried out, feeling skin and muscle tear. Through the pain, he was conscious of Gon holding him tighter, calling his name. He stared wide-eyed up into dazzling light, every part of his body flooding with Nanika’s presence. 

He felt his nerves, tendons, muscles change. She held his heart together. Each beat resounded in his ears. Something he hadn't known existed in his mind until now tore wide open. He screamed helplessly, staring up into the bright mist as pain flashed across his eyes. Cool hands at his burning neck, a warm body behind him. The change was an earthquake shuddering through him, turning him liquid with vibration as the backs of his spine, forearms and calves split. Then it felt as though the sea was sweeping sand across his skin. Something hooked through his insides and pulled—a desperate need. 

The sea—calling him. 

He trembled. How strong was Gon to have resisted this for his sake? 

A whisper in his mind. Killua!

His breath caught, his eyes grew wet. It was Gon’s voice, low and familiar, thrumming with excitement. Killua!

Oh! He didn’t need to move his lips. I can hear you!

The moon shone down through his eyelashes, haloed in the mist, impossibly bright and full of promise. Then darkness crept into the edges of his vision and he was gone.

✧

Chapter Text

Killua bobbed in the swell with his arm crooked around Gon’s neck—the only solid thing he had left to hold onto. He watched Alluka paddle away through dawn’s pale gold reflections towards the coast and the hazy silhouette of Kukuroo. It was strange watching her leave without him. Hard not to fear for her, hard knowing he couldn’t aid her if she needed him. She seemed so small against the sweep of the land and the shadow of the mountain, especially now Nanika had dissolved into mist. But she and Nanika were together and they were strong. Soon, the village would be protected without needlessly lost lives, the guardian stone restored to its true obsidian black with a luminous white heart.

“It’ll be okay,” Gon said. “You’ll see her soon.”

“Yeah. I know it will.” 

“Are you ready?” Gon’s smile was both gentle and eager as he cradled Killua’s back, supporting him below his shoulders.

Killua peered at him through wet bangs. He’d only just been born for the third time, so he felt shy of what he’d become. And despite Gon’s clear enthusiasm, he couldn’t be sure things wouldn’t be different between them now he’d changed. He was grateful Gon hadn't rushed him to leave the boat. It had given him more time with Alluka, and he’d needed the night to recover after he’d woken in Gon’s arms, even though his broken bones had healed. And despite feeling the sea’s call, it had taken courage to trust himself to the water after twice nearly drowning. Now, his ignorance of both his new body and his new home confronted him.

All he knew was Gon.

He looked around and felt faint. This was home. The sea, that undulated like the broad, slow-moving back of a beast, ruffled by the breeze, splashing gently where her peaks collapsed back into herself. Deep, in every direction.

A strong hand wrapped the back of his neck, rubbing soothing circles, and Gon glided to face him. “Are you alright, Killua?”

“Yeah. It’s just, it’s overwhelming.”

Excitement danced across Gon’s face. He pulled Killua close in the water, lips parting in a breathless smile, warm dark eyes stilling on Killua’s for a long moment that made the blood pulse in his throat. Then Gon claimed his mouth in a reassuring, gentle kiss that sent tingles through his stomach. He clung to Gon and wound his legs around him.

 “Everything’s bigger here,” Gon said. “And there are so many things I want to show you. But before we can do anything, you have to learn to swim.”

“I can swim.” He blinked at Gon. “You know that.”

“Let go then, and come with me!” With no further warning, Gon pulled him under. 

As the current rushed up past him, Killua gasped—through his neck. “Shit!” The word came out in a cloud of bubbles. He heard a snigger in his head and stared back at Gon’s grin.

Gon caught his hands. You have to speak like this underwater, Killua.

Yeah, yeah, I get it. His pulse was racing; he was clutching Gon’s fingers as if they’d stop him falling to his death.

He was breathing. Through the sides of his neck. It felt weird—unfamiliar, yet instinctive. As he got used to the feeling, his heart slowed again. I’m okay now. He managed a weak smile.

Don’t worry, Killua. You won’t drown. Keep hold of my hand.

As Gon drew him forward through flickering shafts of dawn light, their fins drifted into one another, his own translucent silver and blue shades mingling with Gon’s gold and pale green. He’d always admired Gon’s fins, and his own were fancier than any of his warrior’s garb had been. He wondered if Gon liked them. He still wasn’t sure how to consciously flex the spines, but that didn’t matter while Gon was pulling him along at a much faster pace than he was sure he could manage on his own. 

Water streamed along his cheekbones, tugging his hair and filling his ears with muted and unfamiliar sounds: tinkling bubbles cutting through the dull crash of waves above, the deep crack of rocks shifting below. There was no horizon. In the distance, everything turned deep blue.

He kicked harder, not wanting Gon to do all the work. I thought this was meant to come naturally.

It will. You just need to get used to it.

Where are we going?

Home—to my island. 

Whale Island? 

Yes. It’s the one place I can still go on land if I want, because it belongs only to my—to our—people. Humans never set foot there. It’s your home now, too, Killua.

A bittersweet reminder of what Gon had lost—but at the same time a knot of gratitude formed in Killua’s throat, that Gon was not kept from the home he’d grown up in. So many times, Gon had said he wished he could take him there, and now it was happening. A smile pushed at his lips, the warmth of that thought renewing his energy. He’d only met Gon’s aunt Mito and great-grandmother Abe once, when they’d come to his and Gon’s wedding, but he’d seen how much the three of them cared for one another.

Glancing sideways, he realised he shouldn’t kick so hard—Gon’s legs were barely moving. His seaweed decorations and skirt were practical, moving harmoniously with him, unlike Killua’s pants, which dragged at his hips and thighs.

He’d never been able to see so clearly underwater before. His eyes must have changed too. He could see every bright gleam through their fins and off their scales. He followed the movement of the light along the muscles of Gon’s back and thighs. His movements were beautifully fluid and powerful. 

As Killua sighed in admiration, there was an uncontrolled flutter at his neck. 

His eyes jerked wide; he covered his gills loosely with his free hand. But Gon was looking ahead, not at him. 

The water grew cooler as they swam lower, through the glowing green-blue haze of a seaweed forest, where ropes of densely clustered leaves stretched above and below, swaying in the current. Look, Killua!—Gon pointed out brightly coloured fish and crustaceans moving among them. When they swam free from the forest, Killua marvelled at underwater islands of lumpy coral sprinkled with giant clams, and shrank from the entrances to mysterious caverns.  Strange trills and clicks mixed with the deep ocean rumble as dark shapes slid below. Long thin tentacles flickered in and out of shadows. 

The further they swam, the larger the creatures they passed. When he was curious to see the huge strawberry-like flowers on the mottled surface of another island far beneath them, Gon explained, no—that’s a sleeping monster. It took such a long time to pass over it, Killua rethought his surprise that Gon had had the courage to climb Nanika’s body.

It was all incredible, but Killua could not stop stealing glances at Gon, seeing him fully in his native home for the first time. After nearly losing him, the more he became accustomed to their new world, the more he wanted to slow down and pull Gon into him, and linger, feeling close. But he didn’t know the dangers here. As they glided over a rocky shelf and the sea floor plunged into darkness, his stomach quivered with a rush of nerves.

Gon must have felt his fingers tighten, because he rolled, turning his back to the depths, and slid underneath Killua as if to shield him. His green-black hair swirled in a cloud, streaming behind his shoulders as he looked up into Killua’s eyes. The current continued to pull them along. He caught Killua’s hips with both hands and skimmed his fingertips under the waist of Killua’s pants. 

Killua, these are slowing you down. You don’t need them. 

I need something. I can’t meet your family naked!

I’m not taking you to them yet. Only when you’re ready. First, we’re going to my garden.

Your garden… Gon had told him about that. 

He caught Gon’s shoulders and nodded permission, meeting his golden eyes and avoiding looking down any further. He felt shy of exposing his new body completely before he’d even seen himself. He swallowed at the feel of fingers tugging his pants open, then Gon’s hands slid up to his ribs as the garment loosened. There were butterflies in his stomach as the current peeled the fabric down his thighs and past his knees. Finally looking down at himself, a wave of relief hitched his chest. His pubic hair and genitals looked the same as always. He grinned—what had he expected? A scaled dick? When Gon had the most gorgeous dick he’d ever seen? Idiot. The pants caught at his ankles and he kicked them free.

The ragged garment drifted away—the last remnant of his former life growing smaller until it vanished into the deep. His heart pounded and he stared back into Gon’s eyes. 

You too, he whispered.

With a single flick of Gon’s wrist, his skirt floated off him. Better?

Much. Now we’re equal.

Gon slid his fingers up the insides of Killua’s wrists, then entwined their fingers. His gaze shamelessly raked Killua’s body. You’re so beautiful. 

Killua’s cheeks heated with pleasure and lingering self-consciousness. Sweet Tehun. Why did he still have to blush so easily? A tingle spread down his body as though the stroke of the current was Gon’s caress. He lowered his eyes, following the sinuous, controlled movement of Gon’s powerful shoulders, toned stomach, hips and muscular thighs, all the way to his toes. No wonder he looked the way he did, moving like this all his life. Dark desire unfurled in Killua’s stomach like an anemone unfolding its fronds. Gon was his sweetest fantasy.

He lifted his eyes—to Gon’s amused smile. Fuck. You heard me.

Gon gently thumbed his fluttering gills. Don’t worry, Killua. You’ll get better at guarding your thoughts. But I’d make love to you right now if you weren’t going need all your strength to get through the currents.

Though Gon continued shooting him eye-fucking glances, as they drew near to the islands and entered the strong currents that protected them from humans, Killua learned what he had meant. He depended more and more on Gon’s strength and encouraging words to pull him on. By the time the sea grew shallow enough to see the sand again, he was dragging on Gon, but could do nothing about it—he was totally wrecked.

 Gon dove beneath him. Climb on my back, Killua. 

He reached through the stream of Gon’s hair and gripped his shoulders, drifting close as Gon swam. Silky strands of his black hair tickled Killua’s mouth. He could feel the rush of water as movement flowed through Gon’s body. Every now and then Gon’s ass brushed against his dick, pulling a teasing shiver through him.

A deep thunder vibrated the water as they drew near to a sheer rock wall. Above, the surface was a mass of turbulence. Gon followed the wall, which curved gently until it turned a sharp angle. 

We’re here. Gon shot up.

As they broke the surface, Killua tossed his dripping hair back out of his eyes. Rock flared overhead, waves having carved the base of the cliff away. A small bay lay before them, hidden from the outside world, but for the opening in the rock. Turquoise water sparkled and rippled onto a strip of white sand that curved beneath a steep, lush forest. The swell lifted Killua, and his legs moved automatically, fins fanning and tugging his calves to hold him steady, even though he hung off Gon’s neck. It felt fantastic—invigorating—though any boat that magically made it past the currents protecting the island would be wrecked on one or other side of this entrance. The beach was both beautiful and safe.

“This is your home? Your garden?” 

“Yeah.” Gon licked his lips. His face was flushed with exertion as he drew Killua forward into the bay. “The island is whale-shaped, and we’re inside the curve of the tail. I…I hope you like it.”

His eyes were hopeful, but Killua could tell he was nervous. “Gon, this is incredible,” he blurted. He didn’t need to pretend. The more he looked, the more he found to admire. 

Flowers in glowing shades of orange, yellow and white peeked out from among the trees, sweetening the salty air with their perfume. Along the sand, a magnificent rock arch, striated with chalky colour, stretched from the hillside into the water. Seaweed cascaded along its base, visible below the line of the high tide, in bright greens, pinks and purples. Killua recognised the same kinds that Gon had brought to decorate the tidal pool where they were wedded. 

His eyes grew suddenly hot. “It feels like home. It feels like you.”

Gon’s chest rose, and he cupped Killua’s jaw and kissed him. “I always liked being here, in my own bay. But sometimes, I got lonely. It’s going to feel much better with you.”

“Is that why you hung around the wetlands, where we met?” He nosed Gon’s cheek. “For my scintillating company?”

“No—I didn’t know you then! That was because you were the prettiest creature I’d ever seen.”

“I was scarred and scrawny and covered in mud.”

“Mm, but I’d seen you without the mud. I thought it was funny when you put it on. And you were wild and dangerous.”

Killua grinned. “But you were stronger.” 

“Only in the sea.” 

“And now you’re still stronger.” He shot Gon a calculating look. He’d have to train hard to make up the difference. “Anyhow, now we’re here, you have to show me everything.” 

“I will. But you’re exhausted. First, you need to rest.”

“No. I need you.”

Gon’s eyes flashed gold. Then he squeezed Killua’s hand and pulled him towards the arch. As the sound of crashing waves faded behind them, his stomach quivered. He still wasn’t entirely sure how Gon would find him now, or even how he found himself. But he needed to be with his husband. 

✧

They knelt on a bed of seaweed in the saltwater stream under the arch, clasping each other’s shoulders. Running his hand down Gon’s chest, Killua paused over his heart. The sun glittered off the new scales on his forearm. 

They were silver and pale blue, deepening at the base of his fin. He held his breath, still unused to seeing himself like this. His fingernails were blue to match, and slightly iridescent, like the inside of an abalone shell.

Gon skimmed his fingers up Killua’s scales. “These are so pretty. They’re like the sky reflecting from you.”

“Then you like them?”

“I love them. And I want to see every part of you that’s changed.”

His avid gold gaze sent a warm shiver through Killua. Then, still stroking the scales on his forearm, Gon added pressure, kneading his fingertips into the base of Killua’s fin.

His lips fell open in a moan. 

Gon smiled. “You’re more sensitive there now. I always wanted you to know how good this feels.” He slid his other hand behind Killua’s back. “You’ll be more comfortable if you lie down.”

“Oh.” Killua cast a glance down at the seaweed, the beautiful green of new leaves. “Is this your bed?”

“Yeah. I know it’s not what you’re used to.” He bit his lip. “But you should try it.”

Gon was probably wondering if he’d mind this. It couldn’t be more different from their old sleeping mat. Truly, Killua had no idea how he’d find it, but this must be Gon’s natural sleeping environment. So he leaned back, hanging onto to Gon’s shoulder, letting himself sink all the way into the water as Gon climbed over him.

 The stream rippled down his sides, but didn’t reach his face. It was deeper at his feet due to the slight slope towards the sea. The seaweed stroked his waist in a soothing fashion. It felt silken beneath him.

“Um…this is amazing. How—how did you ever cope with our sleeping mat?”

Gon’s answering smile was dazzling as he bent down. “Wasn’t hard. I loved cuddling you under the blankets.” He kissed Killua’s lips and then his chin.

Killua tilted his jaw up as Gon moved down his throat. He whimpered at the light sucks on his Adam’s apple. The water tugged at his hair as open-mouthed kisses continued down his sternum. He wrapped his legs around Gon, thrusting his fingers through Gon’s hair to his scalp. Kisses trailed down his stomach, their sparks sinking through to his spine. It wasn’t long before he’d risen to hardness. He lifted his hips and rutted against Gon’s chest. “You never complained. But this bed is much better.” 

“Not better than being with you.”  

Broad hands grasped Killua hips, then he moaned as the velvet heat of Gon’s mouth engulfed his cock. In one long, steady motion, Gon took him in to the root and swallowed around him. Killua’s back arched and he keened, slipping against the seaweed. “Fuck.”

His fingers twisted into the dark cascade of Gon’s hair as Gon slowly pulled back, then bobbed up and down a few times, sucking at the head, before coming off with a wet pop. 

Gon’s eyes were heavy-lidded. He slid his hands over Killua and kissed another hot quivering path up his stomach to his chest. His nipple tightened under the flat of Gon’s tongue and he cried out as sharp teeth rolled the nub. Arousal tugged like a hook in his abdomen. Even the cool feel of Gon’s wet hair piling on his skin made him tingle. He writhed, lifting his hips, needing contact. 

He managed a couple of satisfying thrusts against Gon’s thick, hard cock, then Gon groaned and found his hands, entwining their fingers. He thrust them back into the seaweed either side of Killua’s head, and leaned down, capturing his lips. 

Killua eyes rolled back into his head as he opened and Gon’s tongue slid into his mouth. As they ground slowly together, joy flamed through his body. He didn’t want to rush this—he wanted to absorb every inch of Gon against him: the heave of their chests, the hot drag of their erections, the sweet, wet darkness of Gon’s mouth. He needed to soak in the knowledge that if they wanted, they could make this last forever.

His gills were constantly aflutter in the water. Even so, when their kiss broke, they were both breathing heavily. 

“Since I’m welcoming you home,” Gon said, gently pressing his brow to Killua’s, “you should choose who fucks who.” His voice was low, with a hint of the deep rumble Killua had heard beneath the ocean. His lashes were thick and wet—at some point while they’d kissed, he’d cried. Beneath them, his pupils were blown with liquid gold coronas, like the sun eclipsed by the moon. 

Killua had no doubt that Gon still had more strength than he did. He tipped his chin up, angling for another kiss, then murmured against Gon’s lips, “I think it’s obvious that you should fuck me.”

He felt Gon’s smile, and groaned at his slow, heavy thrust of agreement. Then Gon drew back off him. “I want that. But first, let me see the rest of you.” 

Gon flipped him over and he lay face down in the stream. The seaweed was slippery and soft against his neck, stomach and aching cock. The water caressed his face and sides, warmer than he’d ever found it when he was fully human. Faint ripples of sensation tugged at his forearms and calves. 

A knee nudged his thighs apart, then the second knee arrived and nudged them further. He squirmed into the seaweed for relief, wiggling his ass to entice Gon.

A playful slap on his asscheek made him yelp in a burst of bubbles, then grin. The sting turned into heat as Gon’s hands glided away and up him, thumbs pressing into the groove of his spine. He shuddered, clawing at the seaweed in surprise. It felt different to when Gon had massaged him there before. Gon’s touch glided across to his shoulders, then the cool of wet hair coiling onto his skin and a hot breath were his only warning, before teeth sank into him and he gasped. The bite was slow and bruising. He trembled as heat rose into the sting, leaving him throbbing exquisitely. 

What are you doing to me?

Showing you how good this feels. Gon moved on, patiently biting across to his spine. How do you like it?

Unngh, Killua thought, and squirmed. His muscles were melting in the wake of Gon’s teeth.

Gon continued across to his other shoulder, then nipped his ear gently. “Everywhere I’ve bitten, you have scales. So I can bite you harder now without harming you. Does it feel better than before?”

Fuck, yes.

A hum of approval spread in his mind. “You’re so beautiful like this, Killua.” Gon kissed his nape, then sucked at the top of his spine. Killua grabbed feebly at the seaweed. Any coherent thought he might have had dissolved into the warm summer haze that stole through him as Gon layered a trail of upwards licks down the groove of his back, lifting his scales. A rougher, more intense sensation than where he had skin, reaching deeper into him. He wriggled with pleasure.

 Gon slid his hands down Killua’s ribs and waist, never letting go. “You really love this, you’re like a cat.” He licked into the small of Killua’s back.

Killua writhed and groaned. How d’you know about cats? 

“Sometimes they have them on boats. With your wet hair, you’re like a half-drowned kitten.”

 Maybe before, Killua huffed. But now I’ve got fins and scales. 

“It’s the way you press into my touch.” 

He felt himself flush, unable to deny that. But as Gon stroked the duller-feeling scars on his hip, a pang slid through Killua’s chest. I thought she might have healed those.

“I’m glad she didn’t.” Gon pressed a hot kiss to the scar tissue. “Parts of you are different, but you’re still my Killua. These show you’re brave and strong. And that you’re a warrior. I hate that you were hurt in so many ways. But I love that you fought through everything, so you can be here with me now.”

I had to fight, Killua thought. I always looked towards the sun, even when I lived in shadow. And then I found you. He didn’t know if Gon heard that, but he was glad for the water flowing past his face. The memory of almost losing Gon spiked, and his heart clenched. But Gon was here, strong and warm and alive, and pulling him onto his knees. He propped himself on his elbows, blinking as water spilled noisily from his hair down into the stream.

Still swollen hard, he opened his mouth to beg Gon to fuck him right now. But Gon sucked the base of his spine. His stomach hollowed with the pleasure, and he cried out. In the past, he’d caressed Gon’s starburst of scales there and loved his reaction. Now, sharp teeth scraped his own scales and his hips jerked helplessly. “Gonn—that’s so good!”

A breathy laugh. “Do you like your new body?”

Panting, staring down at the waving green fronds in the stream, Killua smiled. So far he did.

He braced his arms above his head as splayed fingers rounded the cheeks of his ass. He shuddered at the feel of Gon’s thumbs stroking into his crack and pulling him open.

“I love seeing you like this.” Gon kissed the base of Killua’s spine again, then licked a path down his cleft and over his hole.

Killua whimpered as the tip of Gon’s tongue circled and stroked him. Open-mouthed, he stared down through the water, clutching fistfuls of seaweed as his thighs trembled and his untouched cock strained. His nostrils filled with the fresh salty scent of the air and nearby flowers as he pressed back into Gon’s heat. The persistent, wet intrusion of Gon’s tongue pushed him open. His entrance quivered, and his belly drew tight with need. 

Gon moaned into him and sensation flared through his groin. Then a finger wormed easily in past his slicked muscle. As he whined and rode back onto it, Gon reached around him, taking hold of his shaft.

“Gonnn,” he groaned, rocking helplessly, needing more of both Gon’s fist and his finger, “I—I can hardly stay on my knees.” His heart hammered. “I—fuck—want you to fuck me. But I wanna touch you too. I need to see you.”

“Mhmm.” Gon worked a second digit inside him. “It’s just, you look so pretty like this. Your scales sparkle when you fuck yourself on my hand.”

Filled with the certainty that Gon loved his new body, Killua felt the last petal of his heart unfold. He rolled his hips as Gon worked him open, satisfying himself. It wasn’t long before he was sure he’d sparkled enough. “I love your fingers, Gon. But I want your cock.”

Gon draped himself heavily over Killua’s back, and he felt a kiss at his nape. “Killuaa… You don’t know how beautiful you are.”

Killua collapsed, sinking down into the seaweed. 

Gon turned him over. As they repositioned themselves, Killua blinked the water from his eyes and found Gon’s intense, half-lidded gaze upon him. He glanced lower, between his parted legs, and groaned at the sight of Gon’s heavy erection.

Gon hoisted Killua’s hips onto his spread thighs, lifted Killua’s leg, and kissed the root of the fin that ran down the back of Killua’s calf. “You gave up your body to be with me. These—are because you love me. Even if they were the ugliest things in the world, I’d find them beautiful. But they’re lovely. You’re so lovely, Killua.” He turned his head and sucked hard at the back of Killua’s knee, right at the start of his fin.

Heat snaked through his groin and his breath hitched.

Good? Gon kept sucking, angling a wicked glance at him.

“You know it is.” 

He reached down and stroked himself. Liquid was beading at the tip of his cock. He swallowed as Gon’s gaze dropped there. Hands slid under his ass, lifting him. Gon swirled his tongue around him, lapping him up, making him throb. “Gonn—”

“You taste different now. But I can still taste you.” Gon smiled and came forward over him, bringing their mouths together. His flavour on Gon’s tongue made him think of fresh marine rain, or a sea storm. “Do you like it?” Gon asked, reaching across to a clump of seaweed and tearing some thick strappy fronds off.

“I do,” he confessed, cheeks heating. He watched Gon crush the fronds into his palm, and shuddered, recognising the almost clear sap they left behind.

“So do I.” Gon drew back and slicked himself.

A smirk tilted Killua’s lips. “You grow that around your bed?” His gaze remained riveted on Gon’s glistening handiwork.

Gon shrugged, and gave himself a couple of firm strokes. “Why not? It normally grows in the seaweed forest we swam through.”

“Take me there,” Killua said, “and I’ll fuck you in the forest. I want to know what deep sea sex feels like.”

Gon answered with a warm grin. 

His eyes glinted darkly as he positioned himself at Killua’s entrance. Killua quivered at the blunt pressure and lifted his knees. Their eyes locked and he breathed out as Gon pushed in. His slow relentless stroke stretched and filled Killua completely, tearing groans from both their throats and leaving him winded.

He pulled Gon down and heaved a breath as the warmth of their bodies met. His eyes slid closed as he focussed on nothing but the fullness of Gon inside him. He didn’t care about the burn—it faded soon enough. He’d thought he might never feel Gon so close again. When he opened his eyes, Gon’s were so near, it felt like they consumed him.

As they began to move, he clutched the back of Gon’s shoulders, gasping at the slick pressure of his cock. He moaned into Gon’s mouth as they kissed. You’re all I want. You’re everything. 

“Killua,” Gon gasped, his voice breaking.

 Killua twisted his fingers into Gon’s hair and pulled him into a deeper kiss. He inhaled through his nose, filling himself with Gon’s fresh seaweed scent. His head spun with the liquid smoothness of his skin and the hardness of his muscle, and with Gon’s weight pushing back his thighs, thrusting thick and deep inside him. 

No matter how exhausted he became, he would never tire of this. They groaned and ground together until, though water flowed around them, they were both sweating. Killua kissed the sweat from Gon’s brow.

“I can’t ever lose you.” Gon kissed into his neck.

“I know, I know. I’ll never let that happen.” 

But they were really both here, alive and in their new home. Kisses covered Killua’s cheeks and jaw, and he felt Gon’s arm slide behind his neck, bracing them, preventing them from slipping up the seaweed. He clenched around Gon, bearing down.

 “Killua,” Gon groaned, “Killua, you feel so good.”

“No, you—you’re amazing—” Hooking his legs higher, he drew Gon deeper and cried out at the change of angle. “Ohh, fuck. Ohh, Gon—”

The dark focus that filled Gon’s face made Killua’s heart hammer. Gon’s shoulders were taut with effort, holding them both in place as he rolled his hips with the fluid motion of the sea, thrusting perfectly, relentlessly, over the sweet place inside Killua. 

His toes curled. Each stroke was liquid heat, pulling him closer to the edge. His balls were tightening, tremors running through his core. He keened, head tipping back. “Fuck, Gon— I won’t last—”

Gon slammed into him, groaning his name.

“I love you,” Killua gasped, clawing at him. Need destroyed his rhythm, pulling at his insides—his hips bucked. “Gon!” The cry wrenched his throat. Every muscle tightened—he clamped around his husband. Pleasure broke through him like lightning, tearing through his cock. Hot bursts of his come slicked their stomachs. Bliss vibrated through him like the deep bass of waves or thunder, spreading to his fingers and toes even as Gon’s next thrust drove home. 

“Killua, Killua!” Again Gon slammed in, and with his next hoarse cry, the heat of his release spread inside Killua. He clenched around him and they gasped together as Gon thrust through his orgasm. Finally, he collapsed, panting hot and hard into Killua’s neck. They clung to one another until their last tremors subsided.

As they lay chest to chest, Killua could feel both their hearts gradually slowing. His body grew languid under Gon’s weight. He stroked Gon’s back, filled with the kind of peace he’d thought might be impossible, as he peered through his lashes at the shimmering green edges of Gon’s hair. 

Water rippled softly beside them and waves crashed dully beyond, sheltering them from the rest of the world. Killua might have felt himself dreaming if it wasn’t for the blanket of Gon’s warmth. He tried to wrap his mind around the miracle that Gon was his, day and night. That they had this, always. 

The sun reached under the arch, bathing them in its rays. 

After a while Gon lifted his head. His golden eyes shone as he slid half-off Killua into the stream. He brushed Killua’s jaw with his thumb. “I didn’t realise, before,” he said. “I knew we loved each other, and I thought you needed me, living on your own, especially while Alluka was away. But, after the taboo was broken…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “When I wasn’t strong enough to resist the sea…” Pink crept into his cheeks. “I thought you’d give up. Even if you came to me on a boat, we wouldn’t have had half a life. So I thought I was useless to you.”

“Gon.” An urgent frown drew Killua’s brows together, and he cupped Gon’s neck. “You’re not— I would’ve spent the rest of my life searching for you.”

“I know that now. After what you’ve done.” Gon traced his gills. “Killua, I love you.”

“And I love you.” He pinned Gon with a glare. “Never doubt me.”

“I promise, I won’t.” 

The corner of Killua’s mouth lifted wryly. “Don’t feel bad about that, though,” he added. He had his own awkward confession to make. “Because before I met you, every time I loved anyone or anything, I lost them. So I was afraid I’d lose you too.”  He smoothed the frown between Gon’s brows with his finger.  “But you showed me things were possible that I never imagined. Like…” He let his words trail off.

“Yeah?” Gon shoved him gently. “What did I show you?”

“Well.” Killua smiled, trying to hold his voice steady. “That we could have a future that’s about more than just surviving. It was the first time I’d realised that was possible. I wanted it so badly, and I loved you so much, I was willing to risk everything to fight for it, in a way I never would have before. But I couldn’t have done that without you, Gon. And now I know we’ll never let anything interfere. Nothing can take this from us.”

He pulled Gon in, meeting his mouth with soft pressure.

Kissing slowly, they rolled together, hands caressing and possessive. They murmured sweet things to one another, and the stream rose, lifting the colourful fronds of the seaweed that grew along the stone nearby. 

Because they could breathe beneath the water, when it rose above their heads, they didn’t need to leave the bed. Brushing Gon’s hair clear of his precious face, Killua thought his molten gold eyes blazed like the sun at noon.

A smile broadened Gon’s lips. Killua, your eyes are more than blue. They flash liquid silver. They’re full of stars.

His admiration made Killua flush yet again, but his heart soared. The small waves of the bay rolled through the arch over him and Gon, rocking them together, tangling their limbs. His gills fluttered. He sensed the vast force of the sea and her benevolence towards them, binding him and Gon in her timeless embrace.

✧