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The Dark Continent by Xxylo7

Hunter X Hunter & Jujutsu Kaisen Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure & Suspense, Killua Z., Megumi F., Sukuna R., Gojo S., Words: 42k+, Favs: 282, Follows: 344, Published: Feb 14, 2024 Updated: Aug 13, 2024

42Chapter two: Double Negative

Chapter two: Double Negative

Killua blinks a few times, surprised as he's once again oddly reminded of Gon. To be strong enough to stand by your side, Killua!

Only a certain type of idiot would say something like that and mean it, after all. Nanami looks at Gojo with a raised, unimpressed eyebrow, but the man only shrugs, looking satisfied with himself. Killua watches the exchange blankly, finger tapping his cheek.

Gojo could try to play whatever roll he wanted to, he wasn't fooling Killua, and neither was his friend. It's been a while since Killua has heard something so stupid though, and it makes him feel a little bit like smiling, for some reason.

Killua says slowly after a moment, if only to get himself out of his own thoughts in case his body betrays him and he actually does smile or something stupid, "But you also want my DNA, because you think we're related, right?"

"Right! You catch on quick!" Gojo claps his hands together with apparent satisfaction, and Killua suddenly gets the feeling that this is what the man has been hoping for this entire time. Gojo tilts his head down, white bangs brushing his forehead as he smirks, looking at him from over his drooping shades, "I think it's a pretty fair trade, considering you're going to be seeing curses for the rest of your life, ne?"

For the rest... "Really! No way!" Killua slaps a hand to his forehead at the realization. He hadn't even considered that possibility!

Does this mean Alluka and Nanika have been able to see the curses this whole time? Were the monsters under her bed meant quite so literally? Some big brother he was, for not being able to notice such a thing for so long, until now.

His parents wouldn't have lied to him about Nanika being a curse at the very least, or The Dark Continent, a taboo topic never spoken of otherwise. He only knew as much as he did about The Dark Continent because of Kurapika's research into the Genei Ryodan, and even then the information was scarce. It was rumored that Meteor City was located in The Dark Continent, the city of horrific legends, the place where the Phantom Troupe supposedly originated, but there was never any concrete proof besides someone else's word being passed along.

When it became clear that Killua was the only person able to really refuse Alluka and Nanika without exploding into bits of flesh and blood, he had been forced into the roll as her caretaker when he was five, unless he wanted to condemn his sister to a life of solitude inside of the mountain. With only the butterflies painted on her bedroom walls to talk to.

Killua was the only one who visited her, who combed the knots out of her hair and sang her and Nanika to sleep. That was mainly why he wanted to show her the world, because of his guilt for letting his family hide her away from it for so long, all because he had been too scared to refuse.

The rest of their family had promptly wiped their hands clean from raising her, as an assassin or their child. From the day he was given the responsibility, she may as well have not existed to anyone but him. Nanika was simply too volatile, Alluka too ignorant, they were scared.

It was only then that Killua realized that they had revealed their cards to him. That Nanika was something not even they understood. That even his parents had something they were afraid of.

It looks like he's going to have to make up for a lot more than just his absence, that is, when he finally manages to find Alluka and Nanika again. He still has to think about how he plans on avoiding his family to get her back from the mountain again, that is, if that's even where she is right now…

Killua pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand that had already been placed over his forehead, before dragging it down his face with a groan. For some reason a full night's rest only ever makes him more tired.

"Look," He starts, glancing at the patiently waiting pair only to sigh again. If he had known how much of a headache it would become, he would have done a better job at blending in with the crowd. "I can't just leave Tokyo, okay? I have certain… commitments here."

Nanami raises an entirely unimpressed eyebrow, gaze purposely giving the room another quick, distasteful scan, before landing back on Killua again. His judgment is as obvious as the spotted pattern on his tacky tie, lip curling. "You mean the sex workers."

He means his sister, so Killua shrugs. Then he grins a bit cheekily, peeking over at the two with an innocent shrug as an explanation. "They're nice. Besides, none of them can see the mon- the curses."

He doesn't mention the fact that he doesn't know what his eventual departure could mean exactly for the ladies. He hadn't really thought about it until now.

The presence of these two has been a much needed wake up call anyhow, clearly Killua needs to start being more pragmatic if he's going to find his sister again any time soon. It's been a long week, and if she wasn't going to come to him, he'd just have to do everything he can to catch back up to her.

"Hmm, and you're concerned to leave them unprotected, aww, Killua, that is so precious~!" Gojo hums a tune, tilting his head side to side in a little dance, looking pleased as he coos at Killua. He's like a completely different person compared to the blank faced man that had been standing in the hallway not a couple minutes ago, holding onto Yuna-san's arm. "My son is already a womanizer, Nanamin. I am so proud of you!"

Killua ignores the enthusiastic double thumbs up Gojo is pointing in his direction again. He stands up from his seat on the floor, dismissing the conversation while tucking his hands back into his pockets. "So, you get it then."

"Absolutely not!" The corner of Gojo's lip quirks up at Killua's obvious annoyance, rocking back on his heels with a smirk that slowly falls the longer he stares at him. It is kind of freaky how similar they really look, Killua has to admit. It feels a little like staring in a funhouse mirror. "I'm sorry Killua, but you can't hide from this anymore. It might be a bit selfish of me for not wanting you to, either, so I am sorry about that too, if that counts for anything."

"You are terrible at this, Satoru." Nanami looks as if he could be made of stone, robotically watching Gojo shove his foot further and further into his own mouth. "Please, for all of our sakes, be quiet for five minutes. You have done nothing but make this difficult."

Nanami sighs as Gojo simply makes a face at him, before running a hand through his hair, even though it falls right back into the same place over his forehead. His eyes look narrowed behind his goggles, or maybe he was just glaring at Killua. "What this idiot is struggling to explain is that he and I are both affiliates with Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, a school designated for the purpose of training Jujutsu Sorcerers to fight curses."

"Ehh, you guys have whole schools based on this thing?" Clearly Killua has been looking into the wrong areas for the answers to the sudden existence of monsters in this city. All this time spent lurking in the red light district, when it turns out he should have been checking out the pre-schools. Tokyo is so weird.

Nanami stares down at him unflinchingly, tone strict with the gravity of what he was trying to relay. He doesn't seem too impressed with Killua's unserious attitude. "Yes, and that is where we are proposing to take you, to help you learn to become a sorcerer yourself. Make no mistake, Killua, there is no other option for you at this point, not if you value your life."

If I value my life, huh? They sure were trying to make this all seem pretty dramatic. And maybe the threats would have worked, if Killua were any other kid.

"How generous of you, to care about my life." Nanami only scowls more at Killua's dismissive words, the man's forearms tensing as his hands clench into fists. Killua rolls his eyes at the weak show of intimidation, "Seriously. You don't honestly expect me to believe a word either of you are saying right? What's in it for you to help me out anyway?"

"There are certain, unavoidable responsibilities to being a Gojo, especially if you have the ability to see curse spirits," Gojo looks down at him without an expression, the familiar shade of blue staring right back over the rim of his shades. However in this lighting, his eyes almost seem to sheen at Killua. "Though I suppose that DNA test could immediately absolve you from having to worry about all that nonsense, huh? So… What do you say, then, about a little adventure, Killua?"

Killua raises his eyebrow again. These two are nothing but persistent about that DNA test, so maybe it hadn't just been a ploy to get at him, perhaps these idiots actually thought they were somehow related. That, or all they really needed from him was his DNA, for whatever reason.

Either way, Killua can smell the bullshit radiating off these two from a mile away, it's stronger than that foul nen of theirs, cursed energy or whatever they called it, anyway. They clearly wanted something from him and it wasn't just to discuss paternity results.

It could have something to do with his nen, maybe. Killua still can't determine whether they can sense it or not, but he can assume that if somebody could it would be them, and it would probably be just as interesting to them as their aura is to Killua. He'd probably want to check it out too honestly.

It could very well be a trap, going to this Jujutsu school. They could have just as easily ambushed him here, true, but they could also be waiting for less witnesses to be loitering around, hence their want to bring him to this school of theirs.

Whatever their reason may be... Maybe this curse stuff they are talking about could somehow lead him back to Nanika. Maybe, it's the piece of the puzzle Killua is currently missing. That is, if they aren't lying about everything.

There is really only one way for him to figure out whether they are lying about all this stuff or not, and that's to check it out for himself. That doesn't solve the sudden problem of leaving Taikyoku, however, but he might not be left with a choice. Killua is fairly certain that if he stays away from the brothel for too long, the monsters are just dumb enough to come creeping back.

Killua's finding it exceedingly hard to imagine Nanika as one of the same curses he's seen wandering around Tokyo, wriggling with multiple eyes and rows of jutted teeth chattering from dark alleys. There was obviously something that makes her so different from the rest. There could actually be some merit to checking this place out.

"I guess I could come check out this school of yours, but like I said I have commitments here." Killua turns on the spot and walks over to his futon, never really turning his back fully on the other two, past the point of doubting their skill. He pulls out his long sleeve and t-shirt combination from under the blanket and pulls it over his head, patting over the right pocket for his Hunters license to make sure it hadn't got lost in the blankets.

He takes the moment to quietly adjust his shirt, fixing the shoulders of his long sleeve layer as he considers their offer. The scars and yellowed bruises from his broken fingers are making good work of fading because of his constant use of Ten, but the bruises along his spinal cord were being particularly difficult because of their location in his nervous system. If he had been anyone else, the force of Illumi slamming his back into the ground would have paralyzed him.

The bruises catch unnecessary attention, their vibrancy like black paint against his pale skin tone, it's annoying. It caught eyes out on the streets at least, when he first made the mistake of taking off his outer layers, but it was currently midsummer. The unwavering glare of the sun makes the asphalt radiate heat across the city like it's warm blooded, he's stuck in an unfamiliar, concrete jungle.

The ladies were pretty desensitized to his bruises by this point, but his injuries had been what caught Asuna-san's and Yuri-san's attention in the first place, that day when they had been smoking back in the alley and caught him walking by.

That probably explains Yuna-san's behavior towards these guys at the very least, the ladies probably thought he was being abused by this weirdo or something. That or they believed the man's little fib and think Killua is a runaway delinquent who doesn't like to do his homework, though he's sure they had already been thinking that about him.

Tokyo, Japan is very different from any of the countries back home, it doesn't matter if being a Hunter makes Killua a legal adult in the eyes of the law, because the laws here in Tokyo are completely different, and kind of ridiculous.

Killua thumbs his Hunter's license in the pocket of his shirt before shrugging and deciding to pull it out. He holds it out for either of the men to grab, which Gojo does after a momentary pause. "Do either of you recognize this?"

The man holds the white card by pinching the corner, raising it up to his eyes as his white brows hike up with exaggeration as he looks over the design. Nanami leans in closer as well, frowning as he looks over his license without seemingly any recognition.

Gojo hums, flipping the card from front to back with about as much consideration as a dirty napkin. He'd probably handle it a lot more carefully if he knew how much those things can go for on the black markets. "Well, I can't read whatever gibberish that it's supposed to be saying, and it doesn't look like a Pokémon card, exactly…"

"Pokémon?" When his question only gets two, identical blank looks from the men, Killua snatches his license back with a grumble, shoving it back into his pocket. Well, it was worth a shot. "Whatever, nevermind then. Fine, let's check out this school of yours then. I was feeling pretty bored before you guys showed up, anyway."

"Fantastic Timing!" Gojo crows, clapping his hands together with a bright, victorious laugh, willing to completely disregard the card issue. He was probably thinking what everyone else in this city does when Killua tried to show them his Hunter's license; Stupid kid.

Gojo suddenly drops one of his hands out, as if offering for Killua to shake on it as he smirks, a bit coy. He wiggles his fingers pointedly when Killua only stares. "Well, what are we waiting around here for, then? Do we have a deal?"

His En is still activated so he doesn't sense anything off with Gojo's strange aura or his partner's, there's no movement other than a couple of the ladies walking around Taikyoku outside of the room, probably trying to eavesdrop in on their conversation.

Killua shrugs and reaches out his hand. "Sure, we have a deal."

The moment their palms connect, Killua immediately regrets his decision. A flare of powerful, monster energy engulfs him, a bowl of flames with scorching heat floods over his entire body like a tsunami.

He can feel the clash of curse energy as it molds itself over his life force, skidding and twirling together unnaturally like oil and water being shook in a closed bottle. A sick feeling wells up in his throat as the world spins into a pin prick around him.

Emotion rattles in his chest like a bird trying to escape a small cage and as the world comes back to clarity around him, Killua skids back immediately, yanking his hand free from Gojo's limp grasp.

For a moment the light is too bright, the sounds are too loud, that lingering sense of curse energy doesn't fade this time, it sinks into his bloodstream and aims directly for the heart.

Thud. Killua stumbles slightly as he grabs at his chest, activating a layer of Ren on instinct around his chest to protect it as his heart pounds away. His eyes are blown open wide, pupils dilating and expanding in a pucker. What the hell was that?

For his part, Gojo simply watches this unfold, dropping his still outstretched hand to hang limply at his side. He tilts his head a bit, brows furrowed as he frowns at Killua, glancing towards where he's harshly grabbing at his heaving chest. "What's wrong, Killua? You look a little freaked out."

First and foremost, "Never do that again." Killua demands severely, slowly readjusting his stance from hunching over himself defensively. Now that he looks around again, the glare of the afternoon sun is easily dismissable.

They're standing in the middle of the street of what looks to be a completely different residential neighborhood in Tokyo.

Killua slowly rubs the side of his hand into his sternum painfully, feeling the muscle of his heart pushing against his ribcage like it wants to escape. This Gojo guy is far more powerful than he looks.

Killua swallows as he takes in the new scenery, never really looking away from the white haired sorcerer with a sudden reluctance and seriousness. His dark, monster like aura doesn't so much as waver around him, clinging to the man like a second skin. I underestimated him.

The only person Killua has known to be able to teleport that far outside of using En or a specialization nen ability, was Nanika. The scales feel like they are slowly tipping.

Gojo waves him off with a bark of a teasing laugh, seemingly ignorant to the sudden tension in the air between them, thick like a physical weight. A breeze goes by in the air, and then it's gone. "Psh, don't be such a spoilsport Killua. You're fiiinee. Besides, this obviously isn't the school, I just wanted a chance to talk to you privately before anything else."

Is this the point where they try to kill each other? As the seconds tick by Killua tries to gather more of a grip on his tact, however, staring at this man now… He can't help but feel Outclassed. It's an instinctual acknowledgement, one he usually gets after staring his grandfather or parents in the eye.

His nen still feels different, it feels like even though Killua is suppressing his bloodlust as usual, a part of it is leaking through anyway, and it's leaking fast. It was almost like the man had poked a bunch of holes in his Zetsu.

A bead of sweat trails down the back of Killua's neck, under the neckline of his shirts. "Okay. What?"

"It's a very important question," Gojo intones seriously, looking down. He looks up with sudden ferocity the next moment however, pointing a finger towards Killua with an intense focus. "How old are you?"

Killua blinks, before scoffing and briefly looking off to the side as a car drives down a street a few blocks away from where they are standing. His hands find his pockets again, thumbing his fifty-ton yoyos.

Killua hasn't felt this off kilter since facing Neferpitou, and it's making him twitch. Would Gojo be fast enough to dodge my yoyos? "That's it? Why do you want to know, pervert?"

Gojo looks around the empty street, laughing loudly and slightly panicked as if they had an audience anyway. "I already told you Killua, I'm not a pervert! Maybe I just want to get to know my precious son better."

"As far as you know until we get that DNA test, I'm not your son. I can even save you the trouble right now by telling you, we are not related." Killua looks at Gojo coldly, the remnants of the man's aura still clinging to his nen and sinking in like a swarm of ticks, an unwanted presence.

"I already know my mother and father, and they are decidedly not you." Killua mutters darkly, thoughts taking a nose dive as he thinks about his parents.

Killua can feel a familiar void pooling in his heart, a slick loathing curls around his mind that reminds him of a thousand deaths by his own hand, of a needle stuck between his brows for years whispering to kill kill kill kill. His hand twitches, and for a moment he thinks he might have unknowingly activated his claws.

Whatever Gojo did to bring them here, it was seriously messing with Killua's bloodlust, and his head. To have that kind of power, and be able to suppress it into next to nothing…

This man, Gojo Satoru, is a monster.

This cursed energy of theirs, is undoubtedly a force to reckon with. It's sticking with him like a poison even though for the longest time Killua thought he was immune to all poisons.

It makes him nervous, angry, a bit hot and cold all at the same time. Trying to suffocate him in it. It doesn't help that the person most likely to have all the answers is the cause for his unease, for the feeling of a monster like nen invading his own.

It kind of reminds him distantly of Wing-sensei, actually. How he had first felt when the man tried to kill him.

Maybe this man was also trying to decide whether to kill Killua or not. He sure as hell could try, and with that bloodlust like nen, he just might very well be able to manage it, too.

Gojo's full, untethered killing intent was probably something to marvel at, if this is what only a fraction of his power could do to Killua. To worm its way into his bloodstream like an infection, like a curse.

Have I been cursed, is that what this is? Killua rubs at his aching chest once more before dropping his hand and clenching it into a fist. His very life force feels like it's being messed with, he hasn't felt anything remotely this jarring since he first unlocked his nen. It's not a pleasant feeling. It makes him want to hurt something.

Killua looks up at the nonchalant man through his lashes, finally serious. If Gojo is aware of the effect he has on Killua's nen right now, he clearly wasn't going to say anything about it. "Are you going to kill me, Gojo-san?"

Gojo seems caught between wanting to argue, and regarding him with a pensive, mutually curious expression on his face. "I can't say I haven't considered it, Killua."

The man continues to stare at him thoughtfully, unmoving from his spot ten feet away on the street. The sun almost makes Gojo's eyes look like they're reflected like a pool of water from behind his shades, a trick of the light maybe.

His tone is far too nonchalant for the hateful feeling spreading in Killua's chest anyway, probing at him like he could tell Killua was about to snap. "Does that upset you?"

"Would it upset you, if I told you I'd been thinking the same thing?" Seeing as they seemed to be reaching a sort of stalemate in the conversation, Killua decides to concede as Gojo merely narrows his eyes at him, if only in an attempt to ignore the feeling of cursed energy poking at his soul. "I'm twelve years old, by the way. Not that it matters. Are we going to stand in the middle of the street all day or were you kidding about teaching me about all this curse nonsense?"

"I was being serious but, ah, are you sure about that now Killua? Because," Another breeze is the only shift in the stalemate on the street, their duel standoff almost frozen in time. Gojo levels a frank look towards him, gaze lowered. "You just look like you really want to kill me."

"Ah, sorry," So he did notice. Maybe he could see how badly Killua was struggling to hold in his thrashing Ren, struggling to taper down his leaking bloodlust because whatever Gojo did to him hurts. "I'm trying not to."

Cursed energy coils and furrows and digs and probes at his nen like it's trying to make room for itself, intertwining whether Killua likes it or not. Something is really wrong. The punctures in his Zetsu feel like they are expanding, licking and clawing at him with his sheer killing intent.

Killua learned to kill long before he learned how to love, after all. It's the one thing he can always resonate so unfaltering with.

The familiar darkness always consumes him until there is nothing left. Death follows Killua's echoed footsteps like a promise, no matter where he goes. Murderer.

Nanika had probably done them all a favor actually, banishing him to a cursed continent. Monster.

The rubber band snaps and his Zetsu completely vanishes. Never before has Killua felt his bloodlust so intently, so potent and raw he can see it flume out the nearby surrounding area like a bomb. It's a hate that drives deep into the bones, straight to the marrow.

The city skyline explodes into a swirling, curdling purple, his nen spikes in waves with sheer intensity, expanding far past his normal range of Ren. The entire block is one wrong move away from a massacre. It's been a while since Killua has seriously entered assassin mode. Since he's wanted to kill someone so much.

With the intensity of an inescapable fate, Killua raises his swirling eyes to meet Gojo's gaze, the man frozen in place down the street. I'll kill you.

"What a scary look on your face, Killua..." Gojo mutters sternly after he manages to shake off his initial shock, removing his glasses and tossing them to the side as his hair blows back from the sheer force of Killua's bloodlust. This power…

For the longest time Gojo Satoru had thought that he alone was the chosen one. However, right now, the scales feel like they are slowly tipping on him.

A cinched, wild grin begins to warp the man's expression, a crazed intensity making Gojo's pupils prick to the size of a pin drop as he starts to laugh like a complete maniac. "I might even have to get serious here."

Meanwhile…

Nanami stares at the empty space where Satoru and Killua had once been standing, frowning while digging his thumb into the space between his eyebrows with frustration. That idiot really just left him here.

"Satoru," He growls, just as the door to the room opens up with a crisp snap without Satoru's infinity holding it shut. Nanami can suddenly only stare at the group of four waiting ladies at the door, looking steadily incensed the longer he just blankly looks at them without explanation.

Slowly, his head turns to look back at the empty space in the room, right next to him, where a little white haired boy is supposed to be standing with his 'father.'

I'm going to kill him.

Killua is going to kill him. Electricity bursts forth from his core like a stuttered detonation, lashing out in wide lightning strikes that forces the man to take a wide jump back and backslide.

Gojo's eyes are blown wide, the reach of static electricity hums in the air so thick he can taste it, vibrating the hairs on his tongue, lifting the strands of his bangs up against gravity. The man's blue eyes look like the lighting, the glow of a flashbang, two spinning mirrors reflecting Killua's electricity in shock.

Killua doesn't give either of them the chance to think, God Speed trickles down to his calves, the voltage spearing into the bones of his legs like connector rods. He runs across the street in half a second, gaze as sharp as his claws. He's stolen a thousand hearts this way, and he'll probably steal a thousand more just the same, without so much as a drop of blood spilt on the ground.

Precision focus zeros in on Gojo, his clawed hand burns with the intensity of the electricity he's conducting through his nen. His body moves in auto pilot, repeating a lifelong dance through muscle memory.

Killua catches the man's eyes cracking open wider a fraction more before Gojo vanishes, seconds before Killua's sharpened nail could scrape the fabric of his shirt over his heart. The signature of the man's cursed energy disappears, if only for a split second.

Behind me! Killua follows the momentum of his killing blow, squatting down as Gojo appears behind him suddenly while aiming a roundhouse kick for Killua's head. His En feels like it's running on overdrive, combining with his natural instincts, electric burns singes at his bloodstream, the purest form of adrenalin.

As Gojo aims another jab at his back, Killua lets his Ren burst from him again, a fresh wave of crackling lighting explodes from him and sends the man flying back. The power of it strikes up into the air, arcing electricity branches reach the hydro lines lining the street and like the tallest tree in an empty field, the lighting strikes down to greet Killua eagerly.

In concession five fuses of the powerline explode into sparks, raining down the length of the street as black power cords frey and melt completely under the heat. A surge of voltage hits Killia directly like a bullet train, greeting his own electricity and fusing like two negatives to make one, positive, mass of energy.

If I don't stop now, Cursed energy and his life force wage a war in his bloodlust like propelling forces, clouding his judgment. The entire block glows a hue of blue, humming with static. He could make this entire city blackout if he wanted to. I'm really going to kill them all.

That thought, for some reason, is what makes Killua pause, if only for a moment. It's enough of an opening for Gojo to swing another kick in his direction and this time it lands, swiping Killua aside at the ribcage like a cannonball blast.

The force of the blow sends him hurtling through the air, Killua can only follow his momentum as something in his chest cracks, he must have fractured a rib. Did Gojo infuse his kick with Ko?

Killua grits his teeth, reaching out a hand and the movement is enough to unsteady him airborne, twisting him until he's rolling to a stop on the concrete. The volts kiss his skid burns like antiseptic and Killua looks up from the pavement angrily, muscles tensing to launch himself forward again.

"Domain expansion," Gojo mutters severely from several feet away, a hand rising up to hover next to his shoulder as he crosses two fingers, like making a wish.

His white hair is flying above him against gravity, just as wildly as Killua's because of the abundant static crackling through the air, the skin on his cheek looks a bit singed. Gojo's pupils have expanded to the width of his irises, the emptiness of a black hole stares down at Killua. "Infinite void."

The world turns off at a flick. Lights out.

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The Dark Continent by Xxylo7

42Chapter three: Reverse Curse

Chapter three: Reverse Curse

"This is a new low even for you, Satoru."

"I know."

"So what happened?"

"Honestly?" He follows Shoko's unimpressed gaze staring down at Killua, passed out and lying completely still in the bed. Asleep like this, with his young face completely relaxed, the kid almost looks peaceful.

"I underestimated him."

It's dark.

The human soul is a glowing essence, a ball of energy that whisps. It provides the only light in this black void.

But there is something different this time, in Killua's core. Hovering right next to it in similar shape nestles an offshoot of the human soul, an unavoidable black mass even in this endless abyss.

The part he's known that's always been there, is a tangible thing now. The part that stares right back when you look at it.

The hate.

Killua moves a hand forward even though he's not sure which one he's reaching for, exactly.

The two floating apparitions are exactly the same size.

Eh? Killua blinks up at the back of his hand, reaching up towards an unfamiliar ceiling. His eyes widen with realization. Gojo!

He sits upright immediately, looking left and right around the small room in panic. He only settles down as he realizes he's alone, sitting in a small bed adjacent to a closed door. What happened?

Killua grasps at his chest, feeling his irregular heartbeat. But it feels… lighter, somehow. Lighter than before at least, standing in the street with the intent to kill so strong it felt like it was tearing his soul apart.

There's a small, open window on the left wall of the room, the plain white curtains blow in with the breeze he'd think would be cool, but the summer heat makes it warm, even as the sun sets and the sky paints an orange and pink collage behind chameleon-like clouds. My nen… Killua moves his hand from his chest and clenches it into a tight fist, staring down at it with a frown. Using Ryu he guides 70% of his aura into his fist and aims to punch the bedside table into smithereens-

The memory of two fingers crossed, like making a wish flashes in Killua's mind. The sorcerer's energy is clinging to the corners of this room and Killua's clothes, the remaining residuals of Gojo's aura is an unwanted perfume in the air. So that's why I thought he was here-

Thud. A burst of Killua's killing intent flares up against his will. This feeling… It wobbles the precipice of Ryu already guiding his nen towards his fist, his fingertips suddenly tingle with the flaring energy of a curse.

His infused fist hovers frozen in place moments before it can make contact with the table. The focus of his aura dissolves into nothing, the vanishing sight of the spiking white of his nen mingling with an unnaturally waving, deep, bloody purple sends his heart richeting in his chest. As his aura returns to him, so does the cursed energy.

What else could this be? Killua recalls how his bloodlust had completely overwhelmed him. Not even in his worst moments can he remember wanting to deliver such mass devastation, and yet. If Gojo hadn't stopped him…

An uneasy, sick feeling blooms in his stomach like weeds, the feeling of rot. Killua swallows thickly, staring at his now open palm, small crescent shaped indents in his skin from his nails. A trail of blood leaks down from one crease, over the curl of his thumb. Has the day finally come…

Killua stares at his blood dripping onto the blue blanket beneath him, deathly contemplative. The red drops spread, almost looking like purple ink in the thin fabric. Have I finally lost myself?

A part of him used to wonder what it took to become a worse monster than even him, someone born with the name kill and cultivated to do just that. What it would take to defeat someone like Hisoka and his brother, Illumi, The Phantom Troupe and Neferpitou… To defeat someone like Satoru Gojo.

At what point does a person sell their soul, Killua thought he used to know, he thought he had made the realization far earlier in his life. He had thought that people like them- Monsters like them- It was a type of power he could only achieve with age and experience, that if he and Gon trained hard enough, maybe one day they could surpass even them.

However, if instead the difference were to appear in the form of an awakening, like nen, like the other arm to your body…

Like realizing you could and would desecrate an entire residential sector filled with civilians, innocent men, women and children without so much as the blink of an eye.

A thousand more, huh?

The door suddenly slides open, carefully to be purposefully quiet, but the woman standing just outside of the doorway only stares at him in complete shock as she looks up from her cellphone.

Killua squints his eyes at her in surprise and suspicion, frozen on the bed. She has cursed aura hovering around her, just like Gojo and Nanami.

The woman's mouth drops open, the cigarette hanging from the corner of her lips so precariously it could tip to the floor at any moment as she blinks widely at him. "You're awake!"

"Who're you?" Killua scans over her lab coat and business attire, the deep shadows under her eyes. She looks like she gets even less sleep than him. She must be one of them, the Jujutsu Sorcerers. Killua feels tense enough to throw himself out the open window. "Where am I?"

The woman's mouth slowly closes from its surprise. Her eyes look him over again, lips puckering slightly as the embers on the end of her cigarette glow brighter. After another moment of consideration she steps into the room, quietly sliding the door shut behind herself.

"We are inside the residential ward of Tokyo Metropolitan Technical Jujutsu High School." Smoke trails between her lips as she speaks through the muffle of her cigarette. The woman shoves her hands and phone into her white-coat pockets, the point of her high-heels clicking against the wooden floor as she walks towards the window leisurely, seemingly indifferent to his clear suspicion. "It is 6:11 pm. And my name, brat, is Ieiri Shoko."

Killua watches through narrowed eyes as the woman casually leans against the wall next to the window frame. She lifts a hand to absently tuck the curtains aside as if to look at the view outside better, but her gaze glances to the side to stare at him instead. "You?"

"You don't already know?" Killua challenges in return, meeting her probing gaze head on. If he really was at the Tokyo Metropa-Whatever School, then it was Gojo Satoru who brought him here, and that means that she would know the man, and is probably one of his associates. The cursed aura hovering around her person only confirms the connection.

Killua doesn't have to feel his pockets to know his belongings are still there, but it makes sense, they probably didn't see much of a threat in letting a kid keep a useless card and a pair of yoyos. Without infusing his nen constantly into his yoyos to activate the weight or electricity, they were as good as useless, anyway.

"How troublesome." The woman suddenly complains with a mutter instead, looking away from his glare and to the side with a heavy sigh. The line of built up ash at the tip of her cigarette drops to the floor, not that she seems to notice, as smoke swirls towards the ceiling in gray lines. "You're just like him."

"I resent that." Killua blandly refutes, having an inkling to who she was referring to. "Don't associate me with that weirdo."

The cigarette in her mouth tips as Ieiri smirks with a huff. She glances at him coyly when he doesn't say anything else. "Humor me then, will you? Unless you just want me to call you brat, brat?"

After a tense moment of thought, Killua finally sighs and sits cross-legged on the bed. His elbow leans on his right knee, his chin resting on the curl of his knuckles as he stares at the woman, resigned. "Killua."

"I'm surprised you're even functioning right now, to be honest, Killua." Her hand grabs the white stick from between her lips, briefly flicking it to the side to shake off more ash before she turns to fully face the window and away from his blank gaze.

Her arms rest on the ledge of the opened half of the window, the warm breeze blows the smoke back into the room and into her long brown hair. There is a distant look in her dull eyes. "Better people have stayed comatose for far longer because of that idiot. So, congratulations."

Comatose? Killua blanches a bit at her frankly spoken words, lifting his head from his hand slightly. "Really?"

"Really." Ieiri peeks at him from the side of her eye, cigarette bobbing between her words, her tone completely void of any emotion. "You would have to be pretty strong to avoid the repercussions of Satoru's domain expansion."

Killua sits up straighter at the familiar term with a jerk, the memories of earlier hitting him like a slap. "Domain expansion…" He mutters.

The vision of two fingers crossed, as if making a wish. Gojo Satoru staring him down, the man's pupils blown so wide they looked as black as the space between the stars, swallowing the iris whole. "Infinite void."

He must have lost consciousness. Tch. How annoying.

"Mhm." Ieiri hums nonchalantly, turning to lean her hip against the wall under the window as she loosely crosses her arms. She offers Killua a leveled look suddenly, one that matches her tone as she says seriously, "If you had been in his domain any longer, you would have become a vegetable. Or you would have simply died, if you were lucky."

Seriously? Killua frowns. Though he supposes he gets about the same results from his lightning. He just can't remember what happened after Gojo muttered those words, the details of why he blacked out, are blacked out.

The realization hits him suddenly and Killua can't help but think of all the people he almost just left behind, if Gojo had simply decided to kill him while he was helpless. Alluka. Gon. I'm sorry, I can't seem to stop being selfish.

Where would he have left Alluka, as probably the only person in the entire world who cares about her, if he-

Killua freezes up, torn from his thoughts as a flare up of Gojo's energy appears from just beyond the closed door, too intense to be the fading remnants of the man's presence.

He's here. Killua's eyes widen, tensing up completely once more as his head snaps in the direction of the door just before it starts to slide open.

He couldn't- Did the brat sense him outside the door somehow? Shoko stares at the boy with narrowed eyes, inhaling more smoke deeply as her theories begin to spiral.

The skidmark on the kid's steadily bruising cheek is peppering with tiny blots of blood because of the movement of his eerily familiar, crinkling face. Not that the brat seems to notice as he simply continues to glare at his older, mirror image standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"You really are awake." Gojo mutters in faint surprise, like he wouldn't be able to quite believe it unless he was staring directly at Killua himself. There's a thin, black cloth wrapped around his head, covering the man's eyes and yet he looks directly at Killua as if he can see him just fine anyway.

Is this guy serious? Killua only glares harder at the words and the ridiculous outfit, hands clenching bunches of the blankets underneath him. He remembers two fingers crossing next to a shoulder, as if making a wish. And then, lights out.

Was it a wish? Like Nanika? The thought is not a pleasant one.

Whatever this 'Domain expansion' of Gojo's is, wish or not, is a kill-shot. Like the chop of Killua's hand to the back of the neck, a move that's knocked out more people in his life than he can remember.

"Obviously." Killua snaps out, crossing his arms tightly to his chest as he suspiciously watches the man's movements, more specifically his hands, in case Gojo tries to make another wish or something. It wouldn't be hard to draw upon his nen again and resume their fight, they clearly wouldn't be expecting it from Killua right now. The element of surprise is on his side. The cursed aura would flow into his nen again like clay to mold, hate in the palm of Killua's hand-

But at what cost?

Gojo finally steps into the room, closing the door quietly behind himself as he starts to slowly smile. His masked face glances towards Ieiri, and his smile looks a touch too genuine for Killua to realistically believe.

The man spreads his arms out wide and throws his head back dramatically, as if expecting the woman to run into his arms in a desperate embrace, tears streaming down his face. "I could kiss you, Shoko."

"Don't you dare," Ieiri retorts with a speed that would put Killua's godspeed to shame. The woman huffs again, sending Killua an obvious, contemplative glance. "Besides, I didn't do anything. Killua woke up on his own, say, seven minutes ago, maybe."

Gojo puts an immediate hold on the theatrics, head tilting back down to blink at Killua owlishly from behind his mask. His white eyebrows are raising up even further into his hairline, and he looks like a complete idiot in Killua's opinion, staring at them from behind a strip of cloth.

Maybe he's using Gyo to see through the fabric, or at least his own version of it... It could also just be one of the man's abilities, like his Domain expansion.

"Gojo." Killua says seriously, finally looking away from the man's mask and looking down at his lap, biting his lip hard enough he can taste copper from the skin breaking, but he refuses to let these strangers see it tremble.

Killua stares at the smudged drops of his own blood in the palm of his hand, frustration building in his chest as his fingers curl into a fist. His own words keep repeating in his head over and over and it's annoying, it's annoying because he can't ignore them.

A thousand more just the same, a thousand more. A Thousand More. Thousands. Thousands. Innocent men, women and children one wrong step away from a massacre. All because Killua's apparently only just now recognizing the hate that's always been there.

Killua quit. He quit being an assassin and yet bodies keep dropping around wherever he goes anyway. Almost like, well, almost like a curse.

Can I really withstand… A thousand more?

When Killua looks back up Gojo is staring back at him completely seriously, face devoid of any of the previous mockery and forced extremes. For once, the man seems to really be seeing Killua, and not just some kid that looks 'a lotta' like him.

Killua realizes it doesn't take him very much to say what he does next, that he means it more than he'll ever admit to anyone but himself in this moment. "Thank you. If you hadn't stopped me then…"

Killua doesn't continue, not entirely sure what he was going to say next anyway, because he knows what would have happened if he hadn't been stopped. The blood would be on his hands, and the worst part? Killua would move on.

"I see." Gojo finally mutters, and when his smile returns, it's much softer. Killua can only stare at the unexpected expression, surprised.

The man looks completely relaxed now, hands tucked lazily in his jacket pockets as he grins cheekily at Killua, like they weren't just trying to kill each other. "Well, then. You're welcome."

Ieiri scoffs violently all of a sudden, pushing herself from the wall as she tosses the butt of her cigarette out the open window.

She gives Gojo an entirely unimpressed look before looking back at Killua the same. Her face looks agitated, voice a little stiff as she stares at him. "Now that you're awake Killua, would you like me to heal your injuries for you?"

Killua turns towards her fully at the offer, blinking curiously. His cheek twitches subconsciously at her reminder, tugging at the mark he can feel left from his skid on the pavement and he thinks about it.

"Like…" Killua glances at the grinning Gojo a little suspiciously before looking back at the woman, squinting, "With sorcery?" He questions carefully, a bit stilted, hesitant.

Ieiri blinks at him with some surprise, and the moment is ruined as Gojo bursts out into unnecessarily loud laughter, actually slapping a hand across his knees. "You're hilarious, Killua!"

Killua scowls to stop himself from snapping back. I can't risk losing my temper so recklessly, like that, again. Killua glares through his embarrassment before looking away from the chortling man. Ah. I think I hate him.

Ieiri is smiling slightly herself, brushing her hair back over her shoulder as she looks down at him. She's almost as tall as Gojo with the added height of her high-heels, and with the white coat ensemble, she does look a lot like a doctor. "Yes, like with sorcery."

She steps a bit closer to the bed, holding out one of her palms for Killua to look at and after a second of hesitation, he stops being petty and leans over on the bed to look better. In a flash, a burst of cursed energy burns in the woman's palm, the colour an almost teal blue, edged by black flames.

Killua looks at the energy with wide eyes. He's never seen bloodlust look like that before. His gaze rises up to meet her eyes instead as the energy flame flickers and then dies, the cursed aura disappearing from her palm.

"That was cursed energy, as I'm sure you're aware." Ieiri continues to explain, observing his wide-eyed interest as she returns her hand to her coat pocket. "Using it, I could heal your injuries for you. If you want."

"It's a chance to witness a legendary technique!" Gojo adds in with a finger pointed up towards the ceiling, a bit too happily. "You don't want to miss out on the chance of seeing that, Killua."

"Yes, yes, I'm amazing. Well?"

"Okay, sure." Killua eventually concedes with a stiff sigh, forcing himself to relax a little. If they were going to kill him, Gojo may as well have done it back on the street when he was unconscious. If they were hoping to go the torture route, well, he severely doubts either of these two could break him. He had been trained under the best for such a situation, after all. Growing back fingernails is a pain, though.

Ieiri removes her hands from her coat, gesturing towards him. "I'm going to need to have physical contact with the point of injury to work most efficiently."

That makes sense. Killua reaches for the hems of his shirts and pulls them over his head, letting the clothes flop on the bed next to him. The warm breeze blows against his skin and Killua looks down at his chest for the first time since fighting with Gojo.

Since Killua hadn't been able to protect himself with Ken in time, Gojo's blow had swiped his ribcage in a direct hit. He's faster than I realized. The entire left side of his stomach is a deep set bruise, spreading out from the point of contact that suspiciously looks like the side of a boot. Combined with the fading marks of Illumi's brotherly affection, he looks a bit ridiculous.

"I think I cracked a rib. Can you fix that?" Killua looks back up at Ieiri with interest. Nen has limited capabilities in healing, the more strenuous the injury the longer it took to heal, and could not repair certain internal or external injuries once they passed a certain point. Ten keeps Killua in that constant state of accelerated cellular regeneration, but it wasn't a miracle worker. Not like Nanika.

Ieiri merely looks at him with an unreadable expression before sighing. Gojo is at least finally quiet. Killua immediately glances at him suspiciously at the realization but the man only stares back at him blankly from behind his mask.

Ieiri takes a step closer, that teal, singed cursed energy rising up like flames in her palms again. Killua nods when she gestures again towards his chest and she places the palms of her hands on his side over the wide bruise without further hesitation.

Killua twitches at the contact, expecting a flurry of his own cursed energy to come to the surface, just like the last time he made contact with a sorcerer, however the sensation never arrives.

Without pulling away he stares at the woman's glowing hands with fascination, the thick bruises sapping away as if they had never even been there. The scars on his fingers fade to nothing, there's an odd, noticeable crick in his chest, but it doesn't hurt. Was that resetting the rib?

"Most of these are old." Ieiri says without feeling, and Killua's not sure whether it's supposed to be a question or not so he doesn't bother to respond.

Her hands drag towards his back unexpectedly and he flinches, but her palms don't stop pressing on his skin. The soft touches tracing up his spine are making Killua feel a bit awkward, but the feeling of her cursed energy against his Ten is surprisingly… Okay.

It doesn't feel remotely as overwhelming as Gojo's had when Killua had mistakenly grabbed the man's hand to shake. It feels like a buzz of low level Ren, humming over his own nen, but instead of harming it's repairing the burst blood vessels and scarred muscle tissue like a feather. It's the closest thing he's felt to his own nen since coming here, actually.

"All done." She leans back with a step and a hum and Killua sits back up. He looks down at his chest, turning from side to side experimentally in awe. He can noticeably breathe better with his rib set back in place. What an extremely useful skill. Ieiri-san must be pretty strong, too.

"Thank you…" He says with a bit of uncertainty after a moment, attempting to look over his shoulder to see his back and from what he can glance, it looks just as healed as the rest of him. The constant underlining pain of his injuries has vanished completely, leaving behind instead a sore feeling in its place, like tired muscles. He feels like he fell asleep in the sun for too long, nonetheless unharmed.

Killua looks up at the pair, not entirely sure where this leaves them now. After all, he did just try to kill one of them and in return, they healed him of all of his injuries. He'd almost consider them naive, if he hadn't witnessed their strength first hand. But thinking of Gon, the two weren't exactly nonexclusive traits for a person to have.

"No Problemo, chibi! Shoko here is super cool, right?" Gojo hums at him, smirking at the woman playfully. Ieiri-san only rolls her tired eyes at him, looking away from them both to pat down the side of her lab coat and pull out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket.

"Bad! Bad Shoko!" Gojo looks positively scandalized that she'd tried to smoke in front of him, not that Killua could give a damn as he pulls back on his shirts, fixing the sleeves in silence.

They forced him to smoke constantly when he was younger and still in his substance resistance training, something that never really stops in the life of an assassin. The funny thing is, now everytime that Killua gets poisoned his body gains an even stronger immunity than before. His resistance is locked in a state of constant, perpetual motion, just like his nen…

Just like the cursed energy rooting a home in his system, it seems, as well...

"You're going to give my sweet, impressionable son deplorable habits!"

Ieiri-san merely gives the man an uninterested stare as she places another cigarette between her lips and lights it. She then blows a thick wad of the smoke gathered in her mouth at the man, which Gojo sputters at as he waves away the smoke rapidly with his hand, coughing all dramatically like a complete toddler.

Killua's brain can't even catch up with the speed of his own theories and resulting hypotheses. The feeling of this cursed energy invading his system is remarkably like nen, like the feeling of wielding his Ren, only with far, far more power and accuracy. A seemingly manifestation of his killing intent. That bottomless hate that's been growing inside himself his entire life.

Ren is widely considered the potency of a nen-user's killing intent, so when someone asks to see your Ren, what they really want to know is: Show me how badly you want to kill me. How badly are you willing to win? Are you even strong enough?

A fight could already be won simply by the strength of one's killing intent, something Killua has used to his advantage plenty of times, even before he had accessed his nen. Having honed the ability before hand, gaining access to his Ren was like adding an additional level to his killing intent from already being an assassin, and now with this cursed energy slithering around inside him-

If two wrongs make a right, then three must make Killua worse than worse. Something that sounds suspiciously a lot like Hisoka starts to laugh wildly inside his brain.

"Cursed energy," Killua starts haltingly, but upon noticing their shift in attention in his direction again, attentive to listen to what he wants to say, he gains the courage. "What is it, exactly?" Why can I feel it touching my soul?

Despite Gojo's earlier words, the man hadn't actually done much, other than defend himself really. And now they've healed him.

Perhaps this exchange didn't have to be entirely hostile, they at least seemed to be trying to offer an olive branch towards Killua. If it was only to rip it out from under him later, it's not like Killua would give a damn either way, anyway.

Gojo presumedly blinks at him, apparently a bit off-put by his question, despite having been the one to offer to teach Killua all about this stuff in the first place. The man looks completely ridiculous with that stupid blindfold. "What do you think it is?"

Killua rolls his eyes in annoyance at the simpering response, looking towards Ieiri-san but she seems content to let the idiot take over the conversation, her gaze unwavering from the view outside the window as she smokes.

Killua looks back at the man, and seeing only his patiently waiting, irritating smile, he sighs and tries to think about it. It's not like Killua isn't used to dealing with eclectic types, in fact it seems it was a requirement for Hunters, but that doesn't make them any less annoying to barter with.

Well, it's not the same as my nen. There is a distinct difference between them, colliding in his chest like magnets not quite sure whether to snap together or completely repel.

But what it really feels like to Killua, when he closes his eyes and reaches within, a hand outstretches towards a black abyss, even in this darkness. He opens his eyes.

"Hate."

Ieiri-san's lidded gaze slides over in his direction as Gojo seems to stare at him.

Killua shrugs when they only continue to look at him, shifting so his legs hang off the edge of the bed, hands tucking into his shorts pockets. His thumb finds one of his yoyo's, brushing against the carbon-fiber plastic. "What is it then?"

Gojo clears his throat, frowning as he straightens his posture a bit. For whatever reason Killua's response seems to have unnerved him somehow. That's interesting. "Ah, well, you're not completely wrong there Killua. Negative emotions are the source of cursed energy."

"That's not to be mistaken, however, while it is the source, it is not exactly necessary for a Jujutsu Sorcerer to access such strong emotions in order to use cursed energy. Is that making any sense?"

"Sort of." Killua looks over the man curiously, once again appraising the bloodlust like aura emanating from around Gojo like a sort of Ten. It's an interesting concept, even if Killua still struggling to really wrap his head around it. It is once again remarkably like the use of nen. Were these people just using a different form of nen without realizing it? Do they know what nen is? There's only one way to find out.

"I'll be honest, I don't know as much about cursed energy as I do about nen." Killua watches for their reactions. There is no spark of recognition, no straightening of shoulders or shared glance between the two. Either they are both really good pretenders or they really didn't recognize what nen is.

"Nen?" Ieiri-san tilts her head, looking at him curiously. Her posture is completely relaxed, Killua would even go as far to say she looked bored. That is, if he wasn't already aware of the underlying tension that's been in the woman since he first made eye contact with her. Strong as they both were, they clearly weren't assassin's, or at least not very good ones.

Wordlessly Killua holds his palm up much like Ieiri-san had earlier, and like Killua had moved forward in interest, so do the adults to stare at his empty hand. He uses Ryu once more, guiding 50% of his aura to his hand, watching curiously as the two seem suddenly enraptured by the white, spiking nen over taking his hand.

It takes a fair amount of Killua's focus to suppress the cursed energy inside himself wanting to burst forth under a layer of Zetsu, struggling against the suppressing nen barrier like water pouring through the micro holes in a plastic balloon. He hasn't struggled this much to hone his nen since he first started to train it in Yorknew after the Hunter's exam. This cursed energy, it's like I've unlocked my nen all over again, except, it's a completely different source of power compared to my nen, which runs on a nen-users life essence. The soul.

But a separate mass of power, entirely run on negative emotions? It's no wonder.

Suddenly, the existence for people like his family, like the cinemera ants and like the Phantom Troupe, is starting to make a lot more sense. Is this what his family, what Illumi, wanted from him this whole time? To unlock Killua's cursed energy? To finally turn him into a complete, unstoppable monster?

A thousand more. It's no wonder, Gojo had looked at him like that back on the street. Like for one, split second, the man was staring at a calamity.

Because just like how Killua's nen is in a state of constant, perpetual motion, so was his hate. A bottomless curse has been cultivated in Killua since the day he was born, and he had no idea. It's no wonder. A thousand… more…

Killua releases the nen from his hand before his cursed energy can take over, curling and twisting in his chest like a roving twine of thorned roots. He may not need to feel the hate to access cursed energy, but it seems to have the result nonetheless. It burns at him like a physical touch. "That was my nen. It's… similar, in some ways, to cursed energy, and yet, you two don't seem to have a clue what I'm talking about."

"Are you trying to say it's not cursed energy?" Gojo probes curiously, hand on his chin in a thinking pose as he considers Killua from behind his mask, lips pursed thoughtfully.

The man had jolted a bit at seeing his nen, staring intently at the white wisps and coupled with Ieiri-san's lasting appraisal, it's really beginning to seem like Killua actually might be the odd man out here in Tokyo. Killua might be the only one on this continent with the ability to access his nen, and that's a dangerous precedent. He'll just have to be careful with what he chooses to reveal from now on, the last thing he needs is to put himself at an even further disadvantage or have power hungry fools lapping at his heels.

"Something like that," Killua says instead, vaguely. He stares at his own hand, remembering how the cursed energy had been coiling around his nen, functioning in a bloodlust infused tandem. "I'm not exactly sure why, but my cursed energy seems to be a bit different than yours."

"I've never seen such pure cursed energy before," Ieiri-san muses in a strange tone out of the blue, and Killua finds his gaze meeting hers in surprise. "Actually, it's remarkably similar to the sensation of my reverse curse technique."

"Ah. That. I thought it looked familiar." Gojo mutters, not seeming surprised in the slightest even as he admits that. He turns to face Killua again, looking down his nose at his form on the bed. "Remember that funky little trick Shoko here did to fix you up? That's what she is talking about, and I have to agree. Though, I'm assuming you don't know what a cursed technique means, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"You really are clueless!" Gojo mocks with a boastful laugh suddenly. Killua scowls darkly at the man once he gets over his initial shock. This idiot…

"The reverse curse technique is the process of turning negative energy," Ieiri-san goes on to blithely explain, staring down at him with levity. She's as still as a statue compared to Gojo's exuberance. "Into positive energy."

"It's a rare technique," She adds quietly, almost more so to herself as she seems to be getting lost in thought.

Gojo glances at her from beneath the layer of his blindfold, collecting himself once again into that calm facade. There's a fine, nearly unnoticeable twitch in the line of the man's shoulders however, his hands shoving into his jacket pockets in a lazy position that doesn't quite convince Killua.

He looks at Killua and seems to pause, as he notices Killua's attention already watching him like a hawk.

Gojo Satoru seems like a childish man to Killua, following only the whims of his own emotions and letting that guide his interactions. It could be a front for the ulterior motive, the real reason why they were bothering to explain this all to Killua in the first place, why Gojo seemed steadfast in trying to convince him that he was his father. All it really does is solidify in Killua's mind that these people are not to be trusted.

However it seems like Killua has no choice but to play into their hands for right now. And fine, if he wasn't going to be left with any other choice, Killiua would discover what they really wanted from him, get the information he needs from them, and then simply move on to the next lead from there.

If they try to make him stay afterwards well, there's nothing stopping him from killing them all to clear his way through. It's not the first time he's had to make such a decision, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Chapter 1036 - 2-3