I want to warn that this fic could be triggering for people, as it will deal extensively (though not graphically) with topics including child abuse, trauma, depression and suicidal ideation, as well as sexual assault. I will put warnings before specific chapters that I think could be triggering, and as I said nothing will be graphic (most of it will be implied rather than explicitly shown), but please note that the fic as a whole will be dealing with these topics and therefore could be disturbing. Please take care of yourself.

Swish, slush, hush.

Slap, slip, lap.

Shush.

Waking up every day in an encased maze, shaped like a living whale despite the fact that it was manmade, waiting for assassins and thieves determined to kill you to finally find you and attack would not be most people's idea of a fun time. But most people were not Hisoka Morow, and most people were boring. The water barely rocked the boat, and yet Hisoka could still hear the sound of it swirling around them.

Hisoka smirked as he rose in the cabin he'd pilfered in tier 2. Among royalty and celebrities, mafia (who had no idea of his association with the Yorknew massacres) and Hunters, he was hardly hiding. The Phantom Troupe would surely make their way here eventually. They'd figure out how to just like he had. Unless they really were pathetic.

I'm waiting, Illumi.

He sauntered out onto the deck. The sun's harsh rays didn't bother him, because half of him was bungee gum and texture surprise anyways. The living dead. How unexpected.

He drummed his fingers on the rail. A woman with two scars over her eye glanced at him, and then looked away. She wasn't bad looking, but the question was her nen. Hisoka could use a warm-up fight. He didn't want the bloodlust still roaring inside of him to fade. Not that it ever had.

A child's laugh rang out on Tier 1, above. Hisoka rolled his eyes. What a waste. They'd all be dead before they could ever develop their nen properly. Royal fuckwads.

He strode through the crowd. You'd think with at least two death battles going on things would be a little more exciting. He paused as a familiar aura caught his eye. A young man in a suit, golden hair flapping in the wind, spoke into a cell phone. He continued past Hisoka, not noticing. Focused.

"Hm," Hisoka mused. Kurapika. He'd always wanted to see that boy mature and grow, just like Gon and Killua. And it seemed he had. He also looked more miserable than Chrollo Lucilfer would be soon enough. He might be a worthy opponent. Maybe.

Goddammit, he needed to practice. It'd been too long. Hisoka kept note of where Kurapika headed. He'd follow him later. Track him down. Since he apparently had way more skill at tracking than the dumbass Phantom Troupe.

Hisoka swung himself up on the rail. A pair of men watched Kurapika disappear into the crowd. One of the princes, according to what Hisoka knew. A man with stringy hair and a dark aura that Hisoka found interesting in the same sense that a sinking ship would be interesting.

"Do you have any interest in that one?"

The voice rolled in around him. The salted, humid air suddenly felt suffocating. Hisoka narrowed his eyes, spinning around.

A short man crossed his arms, staring at Hisoka. The sun reflected off the top of his stupid bald head.

"Because if you don't plan on fighting that prince, I might have use for him," continued the man. "He's too raw and untrained for you, hm?"

Hisoka narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you?" He kept his tone light.

"We both know you do."

"I tend to forget any face that's not immediately relevant, and the number of people that are is quite small, so I must've deemed you irrelevant. Unless you want to fight now. I could use the practice." Hisoka flicked his fingers. A strand of bungee gum flickered.

The man shook his head. "I don't think you're any more useful to me than you've deemed me useful to you. Also, you're a good liar now. I'm impressed."

Hisoka withdraw a card and tossed it into the air. "Are you, now?" A smile played with his lips. He would love the opportunity to slit this man's throat. If he fought against him now, the Phantom Troupe would certainly hear of it. And then he could fight all of them. He could live, before he died. Or he could play a waiting game. See what his game was, and figure out how to beat him at it. Especially if he had to wait for the Phantom Troupe to actually use their brains.

"Indeed." He smiled, lips cracked. And then he sauntered over to the prince with long hair.

Hisoka watched him go, tightening his fists. Option two it was.

He tossed the card again and caught it. A cloud cloaked the sun.

"She wants you," Oito said with an apologetic laugh.

Kurapika stopped by the door. Woble held out her arms for him, cooing in her baby language. He was supposed to teach nen again that afternoon, and he had to think. He had to prepare. And he had to plan for…

But Woble grinned at him, and his heart melted. He took the baby in his arms.

He couldn't fathom that her own siblings would want to harm her. Woble reached up and placed her damp palms against his cheeks. Kurapika snorted. He poked her nose with his free hand.

The memory of Tserriednich on the second tier earlier that day seared Kurapika's mind. He couldn't let that man hurt Woble. He was the worst kind of person, collecting human body parts as trophies. His eyes. His tribe's eyes. Someone like that would think nothing of slaughtering family, children.

Tserriednich reminded him too much of the Phantom Troupe. He would like to give that man a dose of his own medicine. See him beg before he gave up the eyes. And he probably would, because he struck Kurapika as someone embroiled in arrogance, the kind of person whom Kurapika would have to break to the eyes from.

Woble whimpered. Maybe she sensed the tension in Kurapika's shoulders. He handed her back to her mother, nodding. "I'll be back shortly."

"All right," Oito agreed.

Kurapika ducked his head, unwilling to look at them as he scuttled from the room. He had to make sure neither of them even found out what it was like to lose the people you cared most about, Oito someone she was desperate to protect, Woble someone who gave her love and security. If anything happened to Oito now, she wouldn't even be able to remember—

"Kurapika?"

He turned in the passageway. Mizaistom hurried towards him. "Is something wrong?"

Mizaistom swallowed. "Is there a place for us to talk privately?"

That was a yes. Kurapika nodded, leading him to his cabin. His heart pounded. "What—"

"The Phantom Troupe are on the Black Whale, and they're targeting someone," Mizaistom blurted out.

Kurapika's jaw fell open. Out of all the possibilities, that was not what he expected Mizaistom to say. "Excuse me?"

The Phantom Troupe. Faces swam in front of Kurapika's eyes. Chrollo Lucilfer, bound in chains. Pakunoda, refusing to fail her fucking leader. And Uvogin.

Get lost, fool.

The weight of a shovel in his hand… Kurapika shuddered.

"I ran into Kalluto and Illumi Zoldyck—"

"What?" Kurapika didn't understand. Killua's brothers?

"They've joined the Spiders now, and Illumi—"

Joined the Spiders. Kurapika gritted his teeth, remembering how they'd kept Killua like he was some kind of prisoner in his own home. He remembered that Illumi. The piece of shit threatened to kill Gon, acted like an emotionless puppet, entranced his own brother to kill. Because killing was all he was, and all he wanted Killua to be. You monster.

Monsters siding together. How fitting. Kurapika's lips curled. But that certainly complicated things. He could hardly harm a member of Killua's family.

Wait. He shouldn't be harming any Spiders at all. He had to focus. Focus on the eyes, and Oito and Woble. They were more important. But if the Spiders were hunting him… was Chrollo Lucilfer so set on revenge? For what, his wounded pride? "Thank you for telling me."

"I wasn't sure if—"

"It doesn't matter," Kurapika interrupted. "It's all—okay. They won't get here, and if they do, I'll take care of them."

Mizaisrom paled. "Kurapika…"

Come and find me, fuckers. He felt his chains on his hand and curled it.

Mizaistom left, and Kurapika paced his cabin. What if the Phantom Troupe endangered Oito and Woble? Shit, he already had to worry about keeping them safe from the other members of the Kakin royal family from hell and the mafia. Now the Phantom Troupe too? Did the universe enjoy conspiring against him?

I won't fail. No matter what it cost him. Hours could bleed away, but Oito and Woble would not die.

"You're not the target," interrupted a voice.

Kurapika yelped. His eyes flashed scarlet. They burned. His chains flew out. A card landed in the wall, a centimeter from his cheek. "What the bloody hell?"

"Long time no see," crooned Hisoka, emerging from under Kurapika's bed.

"What the hell are you doing on this ship? What the hell are you doing in my cabin?" Kurapika shouted. "Why do you have to be so creepy?"

"I was auditioning for the role of monster under the bed," Hisoka replied, brushing away a dust bunny. "I'm surprised you allow dust in your room. It's not orderly."

Kurapika glowered.

"Oh, relax. There's no reason to go scarlet-eyed. I'm not planning on killing you."

"I'm aware," Kurapika responded. "I'm just trying to decide whether or not I should kill you."

Hisoka's golden eyes glittered. "I could use a fight."

"Never mind." He was not in the habit of giving Hisoka what he wanted.

Hisoka exhaled. "Fine. Be boring." He leaned back against the wall of his cabin. "From a mafia boss's daughter to a queen belonging to a royal murder family. You're really the peak image of justice, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're not the Phantom Troupe's target," Hisoka repeated. "I am."

Kurapika's eyes bulged. "What did you do to them this time?"

"Chrollo killed me, and it only served to make me realize that the only life worth living is the one on the cusp of death. Only then do you really enjoy it."

"You're insane," Kurapika declared.

Hisoka shrugged. "I hired Illumi to join the Phantom Troupe to kill me. It's our engagement ring."

"I don't even want to know what that means," said Kurapika. He did not—did Killua know? Did Gon? "I thought Gon was your ultimate opponent." Although it wasn't like Kurapika had made an effort to keep in touch with Hisoka. He didn't have time for the man.

Then again, he hadn't made much of an effort to keep in touch with Gon or Killua, either. Or Leorio. Or answer calls from... anyone.

Hisoka cussed. He reached past Kurapika to pluck the card from the wall and shuffled his deck. "He's lost his nen."

Kurapika crossed his arms. "So he's useless to you?"

Hisoka turned his eyes towards Kurapika. "I helped get Alluka to him. Sort of. Tell me, what did you do, Kurapika? Who did you torture to get the eyes from? How many pairs do you have left, hm?"

Kurapika felt the blood drain from his face. "You bastard."

"I just thought you should know." Hisoka rolled his eyes. "Oh, and if you're interesting in teaming up again—"

Oh hell no. "That didn't work out so well last time."

"For me." Hisoka plucked an ace from the top of the deck. "Worked out just fine for you. Just don't take his nen again. Or do, but let me kill all the others."

"They'll kill you, you know. Between them and the Zoldycks—"

"We'll see." Hisoka squared his shoulders. "I'm stronger than you think. And you don't look like you're in any better shape. Had a brush with death recently, have you?"

He walks with death every day.

No, fuck that. Melody said that about that bastard Lucilfer. Not him. The clock pinned to the wall ticked and tocked. "Why would you invite people to try to kill you?" Kurapika snapped. Of course, it wasn't as if Hisoka had people who cared about him, besides maybe Illumi, or not. The puppet couldn't care about anyone. "Why do you want to die?"

Hisoka snorted, strolling towards the door. He paused. "Have you looked down at the ocean, Kurapika? It's a giant mirror."

Ah, so that man hadn't arrested them after all. Illumi exhaled, perusing Tier 3 for any sign of red hair, a deck of cards, a man dressed like a joker because Hisoka would be getting too impatient to conceal himself. Especially once rumors of the Spiders being aboard starting spreading through the ship. A swarm of people always spread things. Disease. Secrets. Once unleashed it wouldn't stop.

Of course, Kalluto glared at him for a solid hour after he said that, but the boy just didn't understand. He'd learn. Now that Illumi was a Spider too, he could help mentor his littlest brother. With only the Phantom Troupe around, he might have started to embrace chaos a bit too much. He was too young for this type of life, and yet.

"I'll get food, Nii-san," Kalluto said, stomping off.

Fine. Illumi restrained himself from rolling his eyes.

An assassin never reveals what they're thinking.

An assassin seldom has to think.

You learn. You act. On instinct.

He wasn't sure if the voice was his or his father's, his grandfather's or his mother's. It did not matter.

The scent of unwashed bodies was unwelcome. Did people not know how to properly shower in the Kakin Empire? Illumi wished to be back outside. But there was some sort of murderer on the loose. How dull. Illumi could probably destroy whoever it was in ten seconds. Or less.

Speaking of time, Kalluto was taking a while. Illumi checked his phone. No new messages from the one everyone called Danchou. Chrollo. Illumi would not be using that title for Chrollo just yet. He was his own boss. He was a Zoldyck before everything else.

"We both know how this ends," Hisoka had said, staring at him with his hair down, damp. "Why not spice it up with a challenge?"

Illumi rose, peering through the crowd. He spotted his tiny brother chatting with a stranger. A bald man whom Illumi instantly did not like. He approached. Perhaps the man was another guard determined to—

"Oh great," complained Kalluto.

Illumi blinked, weaving around an older couple and pausing behind Kalluto.

"This is my brother," said Kalluto with an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure he'll demand to know exactly what you were just telling me."

The man's eyebrows, too bushy for a bald man, rose. If only more of humanity learned that shaving your head did not make you more intimidating, it would lessen the strain on Illumi's eyes. "That's a secret, and it's up to you whether or not to share. Take care." He lifted a hand, disappearing into the crowd.

Kalluto watched him go, pink eyes dark. Illumi grabbed his brother's shoulder. "What—"

"It's about Hisoka," Kalluto reported, voice dull again. Flat. "He claims to have seen him on the second tier."

"I see my plan is already working." Illumi felt pleased. A smile settled on his lips. Granted, that was fast, but—

"Not hardly," Kalluto snapped. "He said he saw him and knew people just had to be looking for him. I think Hisoka pissed him off sometime, too."

"Language," Illumi said automatically. How unsurprising that Hisoka had made so many enemies. Throughout his entire life, and especially lately. Your entire life, you knew how it would end, didn't you, Hisoka? A grand finale. Achieving the ultimate pinnacle of life before I crush it.

"Nii-san," complained Kalluto.

"Mother will have my head," Illumi pointed out.

Kalluto exhaled. He plucked his fan out from his waistband and moonwalked backwards. "Ah, but she's not here, and you are!" He grinned, and then dashed off to buy himself some sesame candy as if daring Illumi to stop him.

Why must his younger siblings be so troublesome? Illumi scowled. Not a single day went by when he didn't think about how he could gain control of Alluka, get Killua back. Was this punishment for not helping him out with the ant crisis? Well, that was proof Killua was looking at it all wrong. Illumi trusted Killua to handle himself, had faith in his strength. And it paid off. Killua wasn't the one who almost died. Well, he risked his life to save that idiot person he hung around.

I have issues, but you're just as bad.

Illumi sighed and removed that unpleasant memory, tucking it in a drawer for later. When he finally went to kill Hisoka, it would come in handy. Because it wasn't true, but that was the worst kind of lie, a lie coated in acid that seared.

I care. I care a lot, Killua, and you care, and I'll make sure you know it no matter what. I'll make sure they all do. No matter what I have to do. Live, die, whatever. Kill my own—whatever Hisoka is—to show you you can do it, too, that it won't destroy you. You'll be okay.

He just wanted his brother back. Killua did love him more than anyone. Hisoka was wrong. He was right. Killua loved him. He did.

"Me too," said Kalluto the first night after they had met up. "I just want him back."

They'd get him back. Illumi's phone buzzed. Chrollo. He sighed as he peered through the crowd. "Oh, where did you go now, Kalluto?"

"Mm, well, you can pass along the message then," Chrollo said, leaning against the wall in the cabin he shared with Bolonenov and Shizuku. Shizuku vacuumed up the remains of whoever used to occupy it. "We haven't found a thing, but we heard that there is a—"

"Murderer in Tier 3," Illumi answered promptly. "Yes, Kalluto and I are aware."

"Well, good." He was confident the two Zoldycks could hold their own against someone like that. Illumi was their ace card, after all, the one Hisoka wanted to die to. Which is why Chrollo wanted to beat Illumi to it, but whoever killed him didn't ultimately matter. He just had to die.

Chrollo tightened his grip on his phone. Shalnark's phone…

Shut up.

"Kalluto did tell me he was speaking with a man who appeared to have a grudge against Hisoka as well," Illumi said. "He mentioned seeing him on Tier 2. But I've no idea who he is, and he did not offer details."

"If he's not one of us, I have no concerns about him getting to Hisoka first," said Chrollo. See, this just proved what a shitstain Hisoka was.

He couldn't get over the sight of Shalnark's body. Kortopi's head. The blood, the unceremonious, undignified—

The phone. Those abilities, now blank pages.

They were so much more than just their abilities, and Hisoka killed them without even a chance to defend themselves. Bastard.

If only he could still use Lovely Ghostwriter. Alas, that too was a blank page now. And Chrollo hated wastes. A blank page was a waste.

His heartbeat echoed inside his chest as though it were empty.

"Indeed," said Illumi. "Well. Talk to you later."

"Bye." Chrollo hung up.

"Nothing?" asked Shizuku. "Or something? Do tell." She admired the bracelet she'd stolen. It had diamonds. It was pretty. Chrollo wished he could appreciate it, but he could only think how they looked like shards of bone.

You need more than bones to make a body.

You killed them.

"Someone else is after Hisoka," Chrollo said. "Maybe. Or he was giving that information to Kalluto. They saw him on Tier 2. We have to get there."

"Ooh." Shizuku examined Blinky. "Well, I hope Blinky still gets to eat him."

"Don't feed Blinky trash," interjected Bolonenov. "Blinky'll get sick."

"Blinky's got a strong digestive system," Shizuku retorted. Chrollo could almost laugh. Almost.

But Shalnark loved to tease, and he was gone.

Chrollo stared at his hands and could almost imagine his fingers dissolving into ash one at a time. He used to dream that, at night, shivering as he slept in one of Meteor City's stinking alleyways. He dreamed his body was slowly fading, decaying, and he could do nothing to stop it.

But he did stop it. In his waking moments. He was the head, and they were the Spiders. They kept each other going. They were each other's legacy.

Hisoka would not take that away from him.

His life would not be a blank page, but a written one. All lives were written. His included. And Chrollo was going to make certain the last line on Hisoka's book was killed by Chrollo Lucilfer.

"Let's head up to the second tier," Chrollo said. "I want to have that party with Hisoka's head."