*HxH Disclaimer*

Author's Notes: I know I know I am scatter-brained. :3 I haven't abandoned my current fics; in fact, I'm overflowing with ideas that I'm not sure where to begin. xD This one has been cooking in me overnight, inspired by being exposed to "Senritsu-Before-The-Curse" fanart in DA (like Bai-Feng's fanart, for example. She's influenced a lot of my work just as I have some influence on hers. ^^ Plz to go to my profile for the link to her DA account).

Also, the name of Senritsu's friend (Hika Peisinoe) was originally conceptualized by Bai-Feng, with the aid of her friend, Kojika. So I'm actually disclaiming an OC here as well as Senritsu from the HxH canon. ^^;;

Read, review, and don't forget to send in those dark chocolate truffles. :3

Of Dreams and Nightmares
By: DW-chan

One: Children Must Grow Up

This was an all too familiar scenario for Senritsu: being sent for by her father to the study, a dark and dank room that smelled of cigarettes and her father's cologne.

Her auburn-haired mother would sit right beside her father, but it was the man that commanded the most bearing. Everything was always too somber in times like these, especially in times like these. Her parents wore dark clothes; she wore dark clothes. It was like attending the funeral of a stranger whose spirit hovered over the room, watching intently.

Her father was a grim man nearing middle age; he had married older than most men. His hair was graying at the sides; he smoked a cigar absently, just as was his fashion when he was displeased with a circumstance. He placed down the tiny glass of Scotch he had quickly brought to his lips just as Senritsu entered the study: all wood, all drapes, only lit by dim lamps that hung shadows everywhere.

"Take a seat," ordered her father. He was rarely an affectionate man who had stopped doting on his daughter as soon as she had asked hard-earned permission to become a Hunter. That was two years ago. Her father was cold, but he had become colder to her ever since. Senritsu had recently turned fifteen, and her father only showed himself for a few minutes on her birthday, dark-eyed, lips pursed, before returning to retire with his papers.

Senritsu didn't speak. She waited as her father took a sip from his Scotch again; the man whirled the dark golden liquid before setting it on the side table again. Her mother sat up straight, her usually neatly coifed hair askew, her beautiful face somehow lined with sadness. Her mother had thick, luxurious lashes, more like a doll's than a human's, and it was a feature, other than her mother's dark red hair, which Senritsu inherited.

"Senritsu," began the man.

"Yes, father," came her soft voice; vainly she tried to hide any emotion.

"You'll be sent to the University by the end of the year."

Senritsu looked up. She knew somehow that this was what the meeting will be about. It sent a tiny streak of rage in her nerves. "I thought you'd send me when I turned eighteen."

"You will not talk back at me, child."

Senritsu drew a taut breath, and calmed down a bit. However, she did not voice any apology. She continued to sit there, hands tightly curled over the skirt of her velvet burgundy dress.

"Your father and I talked about this," her mother interjected in a voice unlike Senritsu's—it was a feminine voice, but it was forceful. "We'd rather send you now before—"

"—Before I get drowned in my music." It was a statement, not a question on Senritsu's part as she finished her mother's sentence. Her mother frowned. Senritsu didn't want to assert open defiance at that moment as she knew that she would be tired from all this even as she simply sat there. She once again cast her eyes down, her lashes dominating the delicacy of her face.

"I thought this all ended after you took the Hunter's Exam. We thought it was a childish whim you'll grow out of," continued her mother.

"We've gone through this already, mother," Senritsu said, her voice low so as not as to seem too disrespectful. "People risk their lives to be Hunters for as long as they live."

"And for what? To run off with ruffians and vagrants in search for lost treasure and chase idiotic fantasies-?" Her mother was trying to suppress her burst of emotion, but before she could continue, Senritsu's father held up a hand to interrupt her.

"You will go to the University by November as planned. I don't want any more questions. I don't want you disobeying. I don't want you talking back. And most of all, I don't want you risking your life for such nonsense again." He leaned on his armchair and flicked his cigar. "You may go now, Senritsu."

It took a moment for Senritsu to stand up. She felt herself shaking from stifled words she left unsaid. Her small hands still gripped the crumpled velvet of her skirt. She lifted her eyes only to say a "Goodnight, father. Goodnight, mother," before she promptly walked through the study door. When she knew she was out of earshot, she ran into her room, her shoes pounding on the marbled floor noisily, and the shadows of the house watched her.

All children, except one, grow up.

That was a line Senritsu remembered from a fairy tale she read as a child. At that moment, she wished she were that child who never grew up. "A childish whim," was what her mother said. As long as she was a child, they would think that everything she did was fleeting and temporary—and they would let her do what she wanted, because eventually those whims would disappear as soon as she grew older. Now that she was older and very near womanhood, and had not outgrown her "childish whims," there was more than alarm that clutched at her parents.

But she was glad she was not alone.

Hika Peisinoe was more or less a childhood friend who moved in next door when she was nine. Senritsu had been playing her violin in a study very unlike the one she had just met her parents in. She had been under the clumsy playing of someone still trying to get hold of a new instrument. A crumpled ball of paper came flying into the study that afternoon, right at her feet. She was nine and as curious as a bee; she hastily picked up the crumpled paper, realized that it came from the open window next door, and she unfolded it to read it.

You play horribly, said the note.

Senritsu had pouted, and on the other side of the paper, with a scrawl of righteous wrath in green crayon, she wrote something back. She threw it across the window as it landed next door from whence the paper came.

A boy of about eleven emerged from the window—lanky, freckled, and brown-haired, with the biggest blue eyes she had ever seen on a young human being. The boy seemed livid with what she had written back on the paper. She had noted with satisfaction with how the boy balefully glared at her as he shot out his tongue. She thought that she had won the fight, then, until her mother had introduced her to his mother and him.

Children were children. They would hate each other at one moment, and then play again at the next. It was no different for Senritsu and Hika.

"So you think you can play the violin better than me?" Senritsu asked in her sing-song voice.

"Yeah! Naturally!" beamed Hika.

Senritsu scrunched her nose. "Prove it, then!"

And he did. He had started taking lessons when he was four, and simply because he had admired an errant uncle who had played the same instrument to him when he was but a toddling thing. His parents let him have lessons because he had admired his uncle so much to an extent that one day he even threatened to run off with his uncle in his "world tours as a renowned musician." In order to shush him, they let him have his lessons, and he had agreed not to run away from home.

Hika was seventeen now. While he had not taken the Hunter Exam ("it's for desperate people trying to find their place in this world," was his opinion of it, and Senritsu had not spoken to him for weeks), he still thought himself to be at her level, if not slightly higher. He himself would be going to a prestigious University in a year, but that was where the similarities somewhat ended. Senritsu abhorred the thought of being chained to academics for four years or more in a manner she had little control of; Hika, on the other hand, decided that it was inevitable, and still had about a year to think about it before setting his mind entirely to it.

They were by the swing sets which Senritsu's father had installed for her when he was still an adoring man to his daughter. The trees and vines obscured the view of everything else around them, so they were wrapped in its cool shade under the late afternoon sun.

"What did they want you to be?" Senritsu asked of Hika.

Hika shrugged. "A lawyer."

Senritsu scoffed.

"Hey, it might not be too bad! I also had an uncle who's a lawyer. My dad's side this time. He's saved lives, you now. He had clients who were on death row."

Senritsu absently nodded.

"It's the least I can do, since you've got a Hunter's License and can practically do anything and be everything," said Hika defensively. He was standing on one of the swings; Senritsu sat on the other. The chains creaked; the wind blowed.

Senritsu scoffed again. "That would have made more sense if my parents actually let me use it." She stared blankly at the sky above her. A small blimp hovered overhead, trailing white smoke.

"Well, I still don't understand why you went straight home after the Exam. You could've just made of and run away, you know?"

"Lovely advice from a good friend," remarked Senritsu.

"That's a fact. I know you, Sen."

"Oh, do you?"

"Well, maybe not as much because I still don't understand why you decided to play dutiful daughter all of a sudden."

Senritsu was silent for a moment.

"You're really going to the University next year, Hika?" she asked.

The boy nodded matter-of-factly. "I don't have to like it right away, Sen. But I'll get there."

"Oooh look at that, you sounding so mature and all," jeered Senritsu in her sweet, soft voice. Sometimes it frustrated her that she wouldn't express jest and fury as potently as she wanted because her voice soothed the negativity and frolic out of her intentions.

Hika made an unappealing, airy sound between his teeth. "And what did your parents want you to be?"

Senritsu honestly didn't know. "Scholar. Engineer. Bookkeeper. Who knows? Anything but a musician and a Hunter." There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"You can always decide what you want to be when you're older. Right now, just do what they want, let them get what they want, and then after that, get what you want…" Hika trailed off, unsure whether Senritsu would agree to the prospect or not.

The girl didn't. "A time waster and a life waster."

Hika couldn't help but smile. "You should have just run away, you know, when you had the chance."

Senritsu furrowed her brows. She wanted to glare at her friend, although she knew Hika would just ignore it.

"But your conscience wouldn't let you, would it?" Hika then turned to her with knowing airs. "Then that's your own problem to solve, Sen."

The conversation ended there, as they were both called to dinner.

Sweet Senritsu. That's how everyone knew her. That's how everyone wanted to know her. Maybe Hika knew her differently—he was the only person in the world Senritsu kicked at when he would tease her as little children. He was the only one who knew of Senritsu's eager, competitive streak as they had the habit of challenging each other as children, from who would climb the higher tree to who played the piano better. Her mother disagreed with her tomboyish ways but once again, she dismissed it as "childish whims." In a way, her challenges with Hika developed her endurance and stubbornness that aided her through the Hunter Exam.

That, and her strange ability.

"You've such a wild imagination, dear," her mother once said when she took note of the dragon-like creatures Senritsu drew for her one day. "Is it from the books your father gave you?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

Senritsu shrugged.

Her mother seemed rather bothered for a moment, before turning to her daughter again and saying, "Mother wants you to draw some flowers for her, dear. Can you do that?"

Senritsu shrugged again, but she did draw her mother flowers in bold, frivolous colors that made them seem like bursting fireworks instead of flowers. But they were indeed flowers, of a sort her mother hand not seen before.

Her parents had once taken her to see "a nice lady." It was only years after when Senritrsu realized that they had taken her to a psychiatric office. She was all of seven, but it seemed that her parents wanted to stomp out a virulent mind-bug in her before it grew. Her mother had shown the "nice lady" her various outlandish drawings. The lady then nodded.

"This is not unusual for a child her age," said the lady.

"Do you think she'll outgrow it?" asked her father. At that time he still wore light grey suits instead of the usual dark coffee or black.

The lady had taken her glasses off, and had looked Senritsu straight in the eye. It was a friendly glance, nothing more. "Children usually do," she replied. She smiled at Senritsu, then back at her parents.

"Let her draw. There's something special in each child that only needs to be discovered. If this is what makes her happy, let her draw."

She was a nice lady.

But she never saw the nice lady again.

Senritsu, at seven, had two words stuck in her head: something special. If letting her do what she wanted made her discover what that was, then she was going to go through it for all it was worth.

She gave drawing up soon after for music lessons. It was in the music lessons when she realized that she could do something no other person can. She had only done it twice before taking the Hunter Exam, and once during the Hunter Exam, and everything was explained to her after she had passed the exam.

She had played a Pegasus to life one morning. It all stemmed from a painting of a white horse which hung on the study wall, but she wanted it to fly, and knew what it was called, so a Pegasus came as she played the violin. When the strings played, it was as if she were talking to them: Give it wings, give it wings, give it wings.

The room had changed; she was soon on top of a waterfall, and there was the winged white horse perched atop a cliff in all its glory. It stomped once, twice, and then she was back in her study again, the empty study with nothing but the sofas, the piano, and a wash of music sheets.

"I want stars to fall," she whispered to her flute at another time. Warmth spread through her body; there was a slight buzzing in her ears, and as she expected, the inkiness in her room melted and there were tiny dots twinkling upon her feet.

During the Hunter Exam, she had brought a tiny panpipe. She now had developed the ability to play any musical instrument that came within her reach, which revealed to her that she was a prodigy in that field. Something special; the words rang into her head. She had been surrounded by fellow exam participants—they were at each other's throats. It was a Battle Royale of sorts and there were limited rules, but for as long as they can get from one gate to another, they should be fine. They would pass and move on to the next stage.

She remembered the drawings for her mother—the dragons, the basilisks, the twisted angels. "Come to me," she whispered in her mind, and she had played the panpipe—she had her eyes closed, so apart from her music, she heard roars, and shrieks, gasps, and screams, and sounds of bodies scuffling away desperately. She opened her eyes to a wide, open field, and she had run to the next gate without further interference.

Not long after the Hunter Exam, a teacher came to her: a man neither young nor old, and explained to her that she was an Emitter. "Be careful," he had said. "Imagination is a powerful thing." He had smiled, and had deliberately ordered her to return home, which she obliged, wondering if the teacher had been a Manipulator. He was not. He was also an Emitter.

Now all of this she has to throw away, because her parents had astutely, gravely given her their last word. It's time to put away these fantasies. It's time to stop the madness before it goes too far. It's time to be more responsible. It's time to grow up.

"Imagination dies as you grow older," Hika told her, his face holding a funny expression. "You'd have to work harder for it, then."

"So what happened to your imagination?" Senritsu mildly quipped.

"Hey, I'm only two years older than you. Maybe when I'm a lawyer, it'll completely disappear."

"Is imagination really a bad thing?"

Hika's lips twisted into a silly smile. "Not really."

Senritsu felt that a lump formed itself in her throat, but she remained as casual as a lady out to tea. "I guess it's really nice to imagine you and Isobel together, right?"

A week before, Hika had mentioned in passing that he had met a "cute girl" in the park when he was running errands for his mother. Her name was Isobel; she was a year older than him, she sometimes worked at a café nearby, and taught kindergarten children. Senritsu noted the dull nature of Isobel's life, compared to that of what a Hunter's could be, and wondered what Hika found so interesting in her other than her face. At that moment, she almost considered going to the University if only to get away from Hika and his lovesickness. For a while, she had resented Hika, and she was not entirely sure why.

"Hmmm?" Hika then turned to her upon mention of Isobel's name. Like a twitter-pated fool, he dumbly nodded. Senritsu shook her head. She wanted winged horses and lions that breathed fire. She wanted steam ships that floated many leagues under the sea, and an army of sirens singing a war song at the top of their lungs. While Hika—silly Hika, stupid Hika—all he wanted was to be with one girl he barely knew.

"Isobel says that she'll also move to the city and maybe go to University soon after," Hika said, unbidden. "That's when I'll be at University. Is that a great coincidence, or what?"

Senritsu sighed and rolled her eyes. She was not about to hear Hika's own version of his life's fantasies. "Yes, imagination is a bad thing." She got up from her swing (as they usually talked in the afternoons by the swing set) and was running back into her home when Hika ran after her.

"Senritsu!"

"What?"

"Are you mad?"

"Hmph."

Then, with a hint of jibe, "Are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Then why are you mad?"

She thought before replying. Wordlessly, she took out the flute from within her dress pockets—it had been a habit, so far, to take a musical instrument with her wherever she went, even when she was just within the house. With a look of amusement towards her friend, she began to play.

Hika stiffened at first. He backed away from Senritsu a little, not knowing really what to expect. Suddenly, a strange smell of animal pelt filled the air. And then there it was—the growling.

Senritsu heard Hika's surprised scream—it was surprise rather than fear—when a huge, black panther emerged from thin air and landed on top of the astonished boy. The animal was too huge to be just an ordinary panther. The creature rumbled on top of him, its snake-like eyes bearing into Hika's before it leapt away once more, into thin air. As if nothing happened, everything returned to normal—the smell of late spring, the sound of birds, the low hum of a blimp flying overhead.

Hika was panting, looking more like a ragdoll than a teenage boy on the ground, eyes wildly scanning the area for more otherworldly creatures to pounce on him. He only returned to his senses at Senritsu's light giggle. With a trail of indignation, he shot up from the ground with a confused and poisonous glare at her.

"You used your Nen on me!" he said to her shrilly.

"So? I never said I wouldn't." Senritsu smiled good-naturedly, and a bit wickedly.

"Well, I'm your friend and friends don't use Nen on their friends—"

"Says the lawyer."

"You're angry, Sen! Admit it!" Hika cried, still confused.

"No, I'm not."

Senritsu suppressed another giggle and was about to enter her home when Hika piped in, "But—"

The girl turned to him, rather perplexed.

"I have to admit," said Hika finally, scuffing a shoe. "That was pretty cool." He grinned at her.

Senritsu tried to keep a straight face. "I know," she simply replied, and disappeared through the door, but not without hearing Hika calling at her, "Show off!" and running off with a light-hearted step.

Children grow up someday, Senritsu thought, her heart pumping from Hika's praise. She then calmed down. But not today.

Not today.

A/N: I'm sure Bai-Feng has her own version of Hika which she had mentioned in some of her stories. ^^ I really found his character interesting so I took some liberties. xD

Also, the line "all children, except one, grow up" is the first line from J.M. Barrie's "Peter Pan." :)

This story will simply be in two or three parts, so I don't have to dwell so much on this, I think. Hehe.

Send in those reviews, luvs!

Cheers!

DW-chan :3