Chapter Text
Killua was sitting in the foyer when the prickling started. He sat up straighter. It was uncomfortable, and the feeling was strange, like someone he had never met before was watching him intently.
It stung. He didn’t know what to make of it.
He did his best to hide it but clearly, not as good of a job as he thought. Out of all the Zoldyck family members sitting with him, Illumi had been the only one to notice his sudden discomfort, but that alone was enough. He turned to face Killua. His dark eyes searched his face for a reason behind his behavior.
"Is something wrong, Kil?”
Killua twisted his hands together. “It’s nothing,” he lied.
"Really?"
"Really."
“Hm. Okay. If you say so.”
In a vain attempt to shake off the feeling, Killua shifted in his seat. The pain was steadily growing. He tried to ignore it, but within minutes, it evolved from a mild discomfort into an excruciating agony. It was enough to make him wince. This time, his father looked up.
“What is it?”
Words came out of Killua’s mouth before he recognized what they meant. “I’m being summoned.”
His mother frowned. “Darling, that simply isn’t possible. There’s no one in the human world who can summon a witch of your caliber—any of us, really,” she tittered.
Every nerve in Killua’s body said otherwise. She was wrong. The pain gave way to power, a power that was unfamiliar. It pulsed with life inside his veins; warm, then hot, then overwhelming. It sizzled into his blood like liquid gold and ate away at him, scorching Killua’s own magic in its wake like a blazing inferno, a dragon licking flames into his lungs and searing his heart.
He was being burned alive from the inside.
And, something yanked on his soul like the gravity of a million stars, a force so strong that not even Killua could resist its pull, simultaneously calling to him and consuming him.
It took all of Killua’s willpower to keep his expression neutral. He looked at his family, who were still staring at him like they couldn’t sense the massive inflow of magic from the center of his chest.
“I’m being summoned,” he repeated firmly. “I have to go.” And then he disappeared.
Gon was exploring the human world because there was nothing to do in the Heavenly Realm.
As it turned out, immortality wasn’t as great as everyone made it out to be. Up in the Heavenly Realm, the gods liked things like order, rules, and consistency; which was entirely opposite of Gon, who liked things like adventure, spontaneity, and fun. It was because of this fundamental difference in mindset that Gon constantly complained to the elders that their world was boring. There was nothing to do. Everything stayed the same as it always was. The sun rose in the same location every day, and the two moons never waned.
But down in the human world, things were different. If Gon could go there—just to visit, he insisted—he could learn more about them. Their world was filled with the unpredictability of emotion, the creativity of the arts, and the fascination of learning.
The Gods’ Association did not approve of Gon’s idea. Their kind was not meant to interfere in the human world, they said, and besides, humans lived such fleeting lives—they were just a blip in the sea of eternity. Their powers were weak and their minds even weaker. There was nothing special about them.
Unfortunately for them, Gon didn’t see it that way at all. Additionally, he couldn’t care less about rules made by elderly gods. So, when the opportunity presented itself, he slipped out of the Heavenly Realm (which was lame and boring) and into the human world (which was unpredictable and exciting).
Because unlike gods, humans had something worth learning about.
Upon materializing in the human world, Gon discovered hiding his presence wasn’t hard, but figuring out how to integrate himself into society with nothing but the clothes on his back was a little harder. YorkNew was not a kind place to newcomers. But, it did have a soft spot for dedicated workers with blindingly bright smiles and positive attitudes. Luckily, Gon just so happened to have both.
He found work under a quiet sorcerer with dark hair and a perpetually untucked shirt. While he wasn’t busy restocking shelves or taking orders, the sorcerer would teach him the fundamentals of human magic. Gon drank the information in like a sponge. He learned the human world was mysterious in its manifested will, which occasionally, not even gods could manipulate. Its magic was a finicky beast. It twisted and turned. It was hard to tame. People could spend years dedicating themselves to understanding the craft and never comprehend a fraction of its truth.
Gon liked it.
Months later, when Master Wing gently told Gon he had nothing left to teach him, and that he should consider opening his own magic shop, Gon could only take the sorcerer’s hand and profess his gratitude towards his first human teacher. He was thankful for Master Wing, because even though he likely picked up on it, he didn’t comment on the fact that for some reason his student had the strength of a thousand men.
If Gon had been worried about making a living on his own, he needn’t have been. Once he took his teacher’s words to heart and set up a small magic shop, people immediately flocked to his little hole-in-the-wall location for all their magical needs. Perhaps it was his godly aura leaking out (which he swore he was trying to get better at), or perhaps it was his bright smile and friendly demeanor (which he hoped it was), but regardless, It wasn’t long before his spells flew off the shelves like fresh hotcakes out of the oven.
Everyone liked him. Gon was a strapping young man with a sweet demeanor and a penchant for unique and useful enchantments. He was sociable, and charming, and the type of man ladies wanted to take home to show their mothers.
Some tried. Gon gently turned down their advances.
And so, his days passed in the human world, and winter turned to summer. After some time, Gon concluded he had been slightly misguided in his original assumptions—humans weren’t just interesting—they were extremely interesting.
They confused him with their conflicting mannerisms. They smiled when they were sad, and cried when they were happy.
They were nice.
They were mean.
They fought. They reconciled. They flirted, they laughed, they loved. They wore their emotions on their sleeves like a badge of honor, and Gon still was drawn to their world with a childlike curiosity. What would it be like, he wondered, to live a life that would end one day? Would he be able to exist as happily as they did? He didn’t know, nor did he think he ever would.
Summertime arrived in YorkNew in a blazing heat wave. Cicadas shrieked in the air, chirping with a faint buzz which signaled the height of the season. Gon was busy writing a litany of cooling spells in preparation for his daily customers. Ink stained his hands. Luckily the human world tampered his powers significantly, otherwise the ink would have been the least of his problems—his parchment would have frozen and crumbled to dust.
The small bell atop of the door jingled. Zushi, a frequent patron of Gon’s magic shop, was the first visitor of the day. Master Wing often sent him over to run errands, but oftentimes Zushi would visit on his own—to ask Gon questions, or just to chat. His short stature hadn’t changed too much over the past few months, but the kid always claimed he was growing. He strolled past the shelves and over to Gon’s workbench, and proudly presented a piece of parchment.
Gon examined his friend's handiwork. He had seen summoning pentagrams before, but there was something different about the one Zushi drew. Something odd and familiar. He filed the information away for later.
“It's my first advanced summoning circle,” Zushi explained, plastering the drawing over the counter. “Master Wing has been teaching me how to draw them over the past few weeks. If you do it well, you can summon animals and spirits to fight on your behalf. I can only summon snails for right now, but he said I’ll get better with more practice.” He snapped his fingers, and sure enough, the pentagram lit up, and a small snail appeared in the center with a puff of smoke. It began nibbling on the parchment.
“You’re already more experienced than I am,” Gon sighed, watching the snail leave a slimy trail. “I’ve never even drawn a summoning circle before.”
It was more out of apprehension than anything. They said that the more powerful the sorcerer, the more fearsome the summoned being. Humans had conjured monsters, chimeras, and ghosts to fight in their wars. If magic-wielders could summon things like that, what could a god summon? Gon wracked his brains and came up short. Maybe a frog, he thought to himself. A big, big frog.
“You should try it!” Zushi insisted. “It’s loads of fun to draw your own circle. There’s something special about bringing something into existence. It's very rewarding.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Gon said sheepishly. “But not sure it's quite...my forte.”
“Master Wing says you’re the most powerful sorcerer he knows,” Zushi replied confidently. “I’m sure whatever you summon, it will be amazing.”
Gon was sure of it too—which was why he hadn’t tried it yet. He weighed his options. There was the unknown, yes...but Zushi said it would be fun. And Gon liked fun. Besides, whatever he ended up summoning, it couldn’t be more powerful than a god, could it? The chances were slim to none. Even if his magic were limited in the human world, he could probably take on whatever came out of his summoning circle.
Gon's confidence was on the rise.
“You really think I can do it?”
”Of course.”
It was this approval, coupled with more of Zushi’s persistence, which convinced him.
Gon would attempt his very first summoning. And whatever he summoned, he summoned.
Gon remembered why Zushi’s drawing had looked so familiar to him. The runes around the edges were in ancient godscript, a forgotten tongue to all except the eternal. Eons past, when the gods had voluntarily interfered in mortal lives, they had left wisps of their language to those who they deemed worthy. Whoever had designed the circle so many years ago must have interacted with a god at some point in their lives.
It was fate, thought Gon. If the circle used godscript, it was only fitting that a god summoned with it.
In the following days, he worked tirelessly on his own version of the pentagram. He inscribed newer, more accurate godscript into the borders. He substituted the recommended ingredients with ones he liked. He let a bit of his own powers seep into the chalk mixture.
Finally, on a dark, starless night, Gon was ready. Only a small handlantern’s flame illuminated his magic shop. His workspace, completely cleaned of scrolls and crushed leaves, stood barren and organized. A gentle breeze whispered through the crack in the open window. It was time. Gon took a deep breath and began checking items off his list.
Step one: draw the circle. Gon looked at the massive chalk pentagram on his wooden floors, fully connected and wildly intricate. Check.
Step two: arrange the materials. He carefully placed five jars on each of the star’s points: snake fangs, powdered zinc, mint, a flame, and starthistle. Check.
Step three: a piece of the user. Gon enchanted the knife in his hand and sliced open his palm. The blood of gods, golden like honey, dripped from his wound and into the circle. Check.
With the final piece in place, the pentagram lit up. Gon’s blood travelled the length of the summoning circle mirroring water through a channel, lighting the way in a flash of brilliant sparks until the entire circle glowed.
The spell activated.
“It’s working!” Gon said excitedly to no one in particular. However, despite all his preparations, he failed to account for one tiny detail—the human world wasn’t built for powers like his to be used in such magic. The floorboards in his workshop trembled and snapped under the weight of his energy, and a wind picked up and sent the papers resting in the corners flying through the air. The handlantern’s flame snuffed out. It was as if a storm found its way into Gon’s magic shop—the air jolted with electricity and set his hair into staticky spikes as magic continued to churn through the atmosphere, pushing and pulling in a flurrying whirlwind.
The eaves creaked and groaned. The walls shook and wobbled. And through the chaos, something sharp snagged on Gon’s heart. It wrenched deep inside his soul, like it was determined to tear him apart. Gon’s hand instantly flew to his chest—he hadn’t felt pain in so long, he had forgotten how awful it was—and it wasn’t subsiding, rather, it was rippling through his entire body like the pressure of the deep sea.
Gon didn’t know what drowning felt like, but as he took desperate breaths and inhaled nothing but raw magical power, he thought he was pretty close to experiencing it.
Just as he gained control of his breathing there was a bang and a flash of blinding light which left him momentarily disoriented. Through his hazy vision, Gon could tell that the storm in the room had finally ceased. The parchment, which had been fluttering wildly through the air, was calmly settling to the ground. The crackling of magic had faded away to silence. He rubbed his eyes and blinked.
The first thing he noticed was that the sky was supposed to be starless that evening, yet, through the small window, Gon saw pinpricks of light shining through the shadows, twinkling and glittering like moondust in the darkness. Someone had set the stars alight in the night sky.
And then, the second thing he noticed was that if the gods had ever given such stars a life, the person standing in the middle of his summoning circle would be it.
The young man glowed with an otherworldly luminescence. He was slightly smaller than Gon, but his stature spoke of hidden strength and unimaginable power. The pointed, wide-brimmed hat upon his head settled across snow-white hair—a witch’s hat, Gon dumbly thought to himself, but that wasn’t all there was to the man—because when the stranger looked up and their eyes met, Gon’s entire being shivered from his head down to his toes.
His eyes were blue. Not just any blue—bluer than crushed sapphires, bluer than the sea at daytime, bluer than any color the gods could conjure in the rainbow—they stared at him, waiting, and apprehensive. Gon hadn’t had a favorite color until then, but if he had to pick one now, it would undoubtedly be the color of the witch’s eyes.
The newly-summoned witch glanced at the circle beneath his bare feet, silently appraising Gon’s workshop, observing the disarray and the cramped quarters.
Gon, never one for waiting, broke the silence. “Sorry for the mess,” he said brightly.
The witch looked at him again. “It’s fine,” he said, like he was testing the words in his mouth. “I don’t mind.”
There was a moment of awkward silence where Gon couldn’t do anything else besides stare. He quickly plastered a smile onto his face.
“It’s not much, but I can at least offer you something to drink,” he said. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the witch’s hand and pulling him out of the summoning circle. It was instinctual. He couldn’t have fought the urge if he tried. When their hands made contact (the witch's skin was surprisingly cool), heat bloomed in his palm. “I’ll show you around the place! I’m going to be completely honest, I didn’t know what was going to come out of my first summoning attempt, but I’m glad it was you, and not a really, really big frog. Unfortunately, there’s not too much space since it’s usually just me around, but I’m sure I can—”
The witch resisted his pull and yanked his hand back. He looked at Gon suspiciously. “Your first summoning attempt?” he repeated, “You summoned me? On your first summoning attempt?”
Gon tilted his head to the side. “Is that bad?”
The witch raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know who I am?”
“A witch?” Gon supplied.
“Not just any witch,” the boy said, “A Zoldyck witch. I’m a witch from the highest ranking family in the Witches Circle—a being descended from the celestial dimension, and a harbinger of lightning. I have performed feats of magic incomprehensible to mortal beings. With a snap of my fingers, I can poison a man, strike down a horse, or destroy a house. And you’re telling me that you—a mere human—summoned me on your first attempt?” The last note came out sounding incredulous.
Gon was supposed to keep his identity as a god a secret but he was tempted to reveal himself. Only the threat of being discovered by the Gods' Association and dragged back to the Heavenly Realm kept him from doing so. “Well, I suppose that’s how it turned out, isn’t it?” he said.
“I don’t believe you,” the witch said, crossing his arms. “You have to be lying. You’re barely an adult. Where’s your master?”
“You don’t look much older than I do,” Gon countered, “And I have no master. I run this place on my own.”
The witch snorted. “You’re good at weaving tales, human. Unfortunately, I have no interest in young apprentices who don’t know who Zoldyck witches are, and even less interest in those who lie. if my original summoner isn’t here, that means there are no wishes to be had, and therefore there’s no use for me here. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I’ll take my leave.” He tipped his hat in a mock salute and stepped back into the center of the circle.
But Gon didn’t want him to go. They had barely just met. He wanted to surround himself within the warmth of the witch's light for just a little while longer. “Wait, don’t—”
His request went unheeded. The witch grinned like he knew what Gon was about to say and was taking great pleasure in leaving anyway. With a snap of his fingers, the witch blinked out of existence—
—And then blinked back once more, stumbling slightly, as though he was anticipating a different type of flooring. The witch frowned when he noticed he was in the same room again.
“Odd. That’s not supposed to happen.”
He tried again—snapping his fingers, disappearing, and then returning as quickly as he had left. A beat passed.
The witch looked at Gon.
Gon looked at the witch.
The witch averted his gaze.
“Interesting,” the witch mumbled, fixing his hat and trying to look anywhere except for Gon’s smug face, “It seems you were telling the truth. If you’ve paid the price for summoning me by offering a part of yourself, I can’t leave until I fulfill your request.”
Gon hadn’t learned anything about that before. He was just glad the witch hadn’t left. Also, he was staring again. “What request?” he asked.
The witch looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If you know enough about old magic to summon me, surely you know the basics of summoning circles? At the lowest level, things like insects and fauna can be controlled. At the middle level, spirits can be ordered to fight for you. And then, at the highest level, magical beings like myself can fulfill a wish, if within our power. So, what do you need from me? To kill a competitor for your lady’s affection? To smite down an army?”
Gon wondered why all his options were so violent.
“I will warn you, however—my magic isn’t free. For any task you wish me to accomplish, I’ll need some of your life force. Usually I'd get it transferred to me via ley lines, but since humans can’t use those, the next best way would be by mouth.”
Gon pondered his words for a moment. “So like, a kiss?”
The witch’s face turned scarlet. “Wha—? No!”
Ah, so it was like a kiss then. Gon wanted to laugh—he was suddenly very interested in the way the young man had lost some of his initial confidence—he was wringing his hands and spluttering like a cat in water. Yet, if Gon only had one shot at his wish, it had to be something worthwhile—something he would remember in all his immortal years to come. Because even if he tried to summon him again, there was no guarantee the same person would come out of the circle—old magic wasn’t good at following conventional rules like that.
After a few minutes, Gon settled on his request. “Alright,” he said. “I’ve chosen my wish.”
“The bigger the request, the more of your life force I’ll take, so don’t go asking for something ridiculous or you’ll die," the witch warned.
Gon hadn't been planning on asking for anything ridiculous in the first place. His heart beat loudly in his chest. “I want to know your name,” he declared.
The witch looked startled. “My name? You summon one of the most powerful witches in the world, and you want to know my name?”
Gon nodded. Silence sat briefly between them as the witch rolled back and forth on his toes and considered his request. He seemed amused from the way his lips twitched at the corners, like he was trying to suppress a smile.
For a moment, Gon was worried he would decline.
But then, the witch’s attempts to suppress his expression shattered and the smile leaked through, and the vision itself was so bright that it surpassed all the sunrises in the Heavenly Realm. It was a genuine smile, one which dazzled and stunned with its honesty. It was enchanting and Gon was put under a spell unlike any other.
The white wisps of the witch’s hair curled around his ears. Gon felt a similar curling in his gut.
“You’re funny, human. It’s a simple wish. I’ll grant it.”
The fluttering in Gon's chest was now a full-blown tempest. Gon stepped towards him, some strange part of his mind suggesting it wasn’t really the wish he was looking forward to, but rather the price he had to pay to get it.
He stood close enough to see a scattering of pale freckles across his companion’s nose. They looked like they could be drawn into constellations.
“I’m Gon,” he said softly, angling the hat away from the witch’s face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Before the witch could renege on his request, Gon leaned forward, dipping his head downwards while the witch watched him, lips slightly parted, as the distance between them grew smaller and smaller. And then, when they were so near to one another that Gon could feel the heat emanating from the man’s pale skin, he cupped his cheek, tilted his head upwards so he could stare into those infinite blue eyes, and pressed their lips together.
Gon, as an immortal being of pure magic, had experienced many things. He had seen the world torn asunder and rebuilt again. He had felt the crunch in the air when a new deity was born. He had tasted rain, sunshine, thunder, and moonlight. But nothing, in all of his infinite years of existence, had prepared him for the feeling of kissing the witch in his arms.
He couldn’t put it into words. It was like the old was turning to new, like death was turning to life, like the mundane was turning to magic. It was the explosion of a supernova in the depths of space. It was the touch of a fairy’s wing on the first snow of winter. It was the dappled rays in the quiet forest, the smell of lightning before the storm, the spray of seawater upon marbled rocks. The feeling flickered on his lips with the brush of a blue moon: calming, sweet, and mystical.
The witch tasted like eternity.
He tasted wonderful.
A desperate part of Gon screamed to never let him leave, to never live a life without his existence ever again.
They broke apart.
All the silence in the world couldn’t have filled the void which seemed to open up at their separation. It wasn’t fair, Gon thought, that the witch somehow looked sad, like he hadn’t wanted the moment to end either.
But Gon had paid the cost. There was nothing left to bind them.
If he had known he would meet someone like this during a summoning, only to have them disappear shortly afterwards, Gon wouldn’t even have attempted it in the first place.
The witch, with a wish and some of Gon’s life force, was going to leave. And Gon would never be the same again.
The witch slowly backed away from Gon. His eyes lingered on his, like he had felt their connection as well, but wasn’t sure what to make of it. Gon had to physically hold himself back from pulling him in for another kiss. And maybe another. And another.
It was just prolonging the inevitable. No matter how long they stared at one another and ran “what-ifs” in their minds, the truth of the matter was that whatever fate had brought them together was now tearing them apart, and Gon hated it. He hated it more than anything he had ever felt, he wanted to resist fate and tell it that he was a god and that gods did not bend to the wills of the predetermined. He wanted to grab the witch and kiss him again and again and again until he figured out for himself what it was about him that made Gon desire him above anything else.
He watched as the witch walked back into the circle. The instant the his feet centered themselves, the wind that had accompanied his arrival signaled his departure. Electric sparks danced in the pentagram, drawing magic from himself and from the surrounding air, and with a wistful smile that Gon wished he could kiss away, to make it so he wouldn’t look so, so sad, the witch whispered—
“—My name is Killua. It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Gon. Goodbye.”
Killua. It was a beautiful name befitting of a beautiful witch.
Something hard caught in Gon’s throat. He wanted to stop him, to tell him that no matter where he was returning to, Gon could find a place for them which was better. Because if they were together, Gon was sure he could do anything. But, it wasn’t his place, and for all intents and purposes, he was just a human. A human, who was actually a god, who pined for a witch who couldn't be his. Killua had come to him because he was summoned to fulfill a wish, and now that he had, there was no reason for him to stay. But Gon would remember his visit. He would remember it forever.
He would remember it so that if he ever thought there were no mysteries left to uncover, he would recall the time when he met an enchanting boy on a starless night, who tasted like all the beautiful things in the world, who left in the wake of a summer storm, vanishing bit by bit until nothing remained and the room was empty once more—
—Only for him to reappear in full force, smacking Gon straight in the chest with enough impact to send them both toppling to the ground. Gon, although surprised, wasn’t one to complain about the new development.
“Back so soon?” he grinned. Killua’s hat tickled his nose.
The witch quickly scrambled up, completely and obviously embarrassed. “I—I don’t—that’s not supposed to happen!” he said, flustered. “Let me try again—”
But Killua tried, and tried, and tried, and each time the result was the same—he would disappear, and then reappear beside Gon, sometimes smacking him in the chest, sometimes bumping into his side, occasionally fully sprawled over his lap. Gon, amused, let him try as many times as he wanted, but finally as the sun started breaking over the horizon, Killua had tried enough.
“My magic won’t send me back,” he groaned, burying his face in hat.
Gon didn’t tell him that he had tried to help out once or twice by adding his own powers to the mix, but nothing had happened. Instead, he merely clasped his hands together and said cheerfully, “Well, I’m always looking for help around the shop...if you’d like to stay?”
He really hoped Killua would stay.
He really, really hoped he would stay.
Killua dusted his hat off and put it back on his head. “I suppose,” he said offhandedly.
His ears however, betrayed his nonchalance. As Killua turned away, Gon caught a glimpse—they glowed pink like camelias in spring.