Disclaimer - Hunter x Hunter does not belong to me, all characters and such are the marvelous product of Yoshihiro Togashi.

Notes - This is my second fanfic (and the first one I wrote was at least 5 years ago :P) so please give as much input as you can. I imagine the characters are rather OOC but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.

Illumi's latest assignment was to eliminate Hisoka, did he go through with it successfully and what happened afterwards?

An Untoward Affinity

Illumi walked into his room, the weigh of the body which he was carrying placing no strain whatsoever upon him. He placed the bundle on his bed and regarded it with part scorn and part worry.

Why didn't I finish him off? I could have done so while he was unconscious, I could still do so now. There had to have been some reason why he lugged Hisoka all the way back to his abode. Ilumi refused to believe the reason was for some feeling of closeness, after all, what does an assassin need friends for? Friends are just an unnecessary burden. He was reminded of his younger brother, Killua.

As he inspected Hisoka's still form he continued reflecting on Killua's intense devotion to Gon. Killua could have been the best assassin in the family, there was so much potential. But what was he doing now? Running around somewhere with Gon, probably still on that fool mission to find Gon's father.

And now what was Illumi doing himself? It was simply an assignment to eliminate Hisoka. The pay was definitely sufficient for someone of the assassin's skill and he already knew where his target resided. Truthfully, it gave him an excuse to test out the magician's strength himself.

When Illumi spoke to Killua those many months ago at the Hunter exam he may have very well been speaking of himself. When someone's strength is potentially on par with one's own powers it is only natural that one day the two would clash.

It was an excellent battle, although at the end he did gain the upper hand, perhaps it was due to his years of training, training which Hisoka, as skilled as he was, did not possess. A mass murderer is still an amateur when compared to the Zaoldyecks.

The sound of pained breathing from Hisoka pulled Illumi back to the present. So, he is still alive. Without treatment of his wounds he surely will not live past the hour.

Illumi was reminded of when he was grievously wounded from an assignment several years ago. He was left to tend himself, his family did not even know how he was fairing until his father called to see how work was progressing. Even then they didn't do anything, his father ordered him to execute his missions with more care, then immediately hung up the phone. Leaving Illumi to care for his own wounds, never mind that he could barely move.

After the first day of painfully laying on the cold bed Illumi gradually worked his way to the dresser where he kept all his necessary medical supplies for such an event. No one has ever managed to damage my body this much before, I must have been careless. If I had enough strength I could mend my own body. I wonder if I will live through this. I completed the job, dying like this surely would make my family prouder then any other method of death.

The ringing of his cellphone broke through his reverie. It was Hisoka. Just want I needed, what does that demented magician want now? "I'm busy," he managed to rasp into the phone.

"I was wondering if you were doing anything interesting. You know, like how you ended up taking out the 10 Godfathers." Hisoka was amused by how the Zaoldyecks had worked both sides. "By the way, you sound terrible," added Hisoka. "Are you doing alright?"

Listening to the voice on the other side Illumi reflected on how the magician was pestering him even this close to his death. "No, go away. Good bye."

Before he could hang up he heard Hisoka say, "I should drop by and see how you are doing! It will give me something to do for now." Illumi didn't fight this since he knew there was no convincing the magician not to pursue a path he has already decided on. He was too tired to resist much anyhow.

"Besides, not like anyone else is there to look after you, we both know that." Hisoka actually sounded as if he genuinely wanted Illumi to be well again as soon as possible. Illumi suspected it was because Hisoka wanted to drag him off for one of his games, but it was still nice to know someone gave a damn.


Hisoka really did come to see how Illumi was doing soon afterwards. Inwardly the assassin was relieved, though he let none of that feeling show on his neutral façade. He remembered how the magician's lips were not curled in their usual sneer, instead a concerned frown presented itself when he entered Illumi's room.

"I see that your room is as…welcoming as ever." Hisoka noted sarcastically as he glanced around. As usual, Illumi's room was devoid of anything which could have made it comfortable. His room composed of a simple table, a dresser, a chair, shelve full of countless books, and a bed. From the bed Illumi eyed the bag Hisoka was carrying.

"You know, I would simply die of boredom if I stayed here for too long. So I brought some things to entertain myself." Hisoka said as he settled down on the only chair and placed a bag which clanged genteelly as it was placed on the table. "Considering you only have one chair you could have at least gotten a comfortable one." Hisoka grumbled, taking out a deck of cards from who-knows-where, he began to shuffle them.

"Comfort doesn't matter. You shouldn't be talking; I'm not the one who lounges around rubble in broken down buildings." Illumi said as levelly as he could, given how the damage to his neck was still enough to limit his speech to a rasp. "How long do you intend to stay here?" At this Hisoka just shrugged.

"Until you get well enough to tend yourself." Hisoka virtually leered as he said this. Being the incredibly generous person that I am, naturally I will have to stay around here and personally dress your wounds while you are thus detained. At this thought a slight giggle escaped from his lips.

"I can very well take care of myself, I always have." He grimaced as one of his wounds brought itself to his attention.

"You sure do make a convincing argument." Hisoka rose to inspect his companion's injuries. Letting out a whistle, "Oh my, whoever did this must have been very strong." A murderous glint appeared in Hisoka's eyes. Ahhh, someone with enough power to cause such injuries to Illumi. I wonder who it could have been.

"No, I will not tell you who did this. He's now dead anyway." Illumi said this with some pride, he was one of the best, worthy of the Zaoldyeck name.

"Oh?" Hisoka said this with some disappointment. I would have liked to test his abilities, such a shame.

Hisoka removed a canister from the bag he had brought. He popped open the container and poured some of the contents into the lid, which doubled as a cup. Holding it out to Illumi, "Here you go, I made you some chicken soup." Hisoka beamed proudly. "Or would prefer it if I spoon-feed you?" he said with a wicked grin.

Despite his long training in maintaining his expressionless face Illumi raised an eyebrow incredulously. "You made chicken soup? And no, I can feed myself." He snatched the cup out of the magician's hands before the other could find a spoon.

With an embarrassed laugh, Hisoka nodded, "And the chicken made such delightful sounds as I was preparing it."

"Of course." Eyeing the contents of the cup suspiciously Illumi decided that it probably wouldn't do him any harm, he had trained all his life in the intake of poisons after all. Lifting the cup to his mouth his sniffed at the soup. Well, at least it smells good. And I eaten anything since I've been injured.

He took a sip from the cup, "This soup is…awful." Was that a chicken leg that I swallowed? At least it is reassuring to know that this really is chicken soup. He drank the remainder of the soup anyway, grateful for something to fill his stomach.

"I never said it was going to be good. Not like I ever learned how to cook." Hisoka giggled as he poured more soup for Illumi. This time something plunked noisily into the cup.

Picking out what had fallen in Illumi noted with some amusement and a vague sense of horror that it was a chicken's head – beak and all. "You do know that you are not suppose to include all parts of a chicken in the soup, right?"

Hisoka lifted an eyebrow, "Oh really? But they make the soup look so much more festive." Tapping a finger on the canister of soup, "It was tough enough removing all the feathers after the soup was finished."

I suppose I should be glad he decided to remove the feathers at all. Putting down the cup Illumi attempted to move to the dresser to get new bandages. Instead he ended up falling to the ground after two shaky steps.

My legs have not completely healed yet, he observed dully. He felt a warm hand reach around his waist and pull him up. Too shocked by the touch to push the arm away he allowed it to place him back onto the bed. He glared at a smirking Hisoka.

"What? Look at yourself; I don't think you should be moving much anytime soon. And don't worry; I won't be violating you while you are sick. There's no challenge in that." Hisoka flashed his patent smirk, "Here, let me get you whatever you want. Rummaging through your drawers would provide some entertainment in this terribly dull room of yours." With a devilish grin he headed for the dresser.

Glaring at Hisoka, Illumi was about to say again how he was fully capable of looking after himself and how has done so numerous times before when a coughing fit took a hold of him. It passed quickly but it left him light headed and he was glad he was back on his bed, where he promptly collapsed.

Hisoka shook his head as he looked upon Illumi. The stubborn man has no sense of his limits, than again, perhaps it reminds me of myself.

After the fever took a hold of him, Illumi didn't really remember much, the next several days he weaved in and out of awareness. Probably because of that awful chicken soup, he thought darkly afterwards. But he did not tell Hisoka, thinking he might put something even more terrifying in any future concoctions.

All Illumi remembered of the feverish days were vague movements, occasional questions he couldn't understand with his muddled mind, and the feeling that someone was constantly watching over him. In a way it was reassuring, it did not feel like the sterile looks of his family when he was training. He couldn't place what the feeling was, a particular kind of warmth.

When his fever broke five days later he saw that his bandages were freshly changed and that all his wounds were healing quite proficiently. With not much else to do, Hisoka left, probably to pursue the prey he head been neglecting the past week.

After that they didn't see each other much at all, Illumi continued his rigorous schedule of work and Hisoka continued to look for others to fight. Last Illumi heard, Hisoka was back in the Celestial Tower.

end flashback

A slight sigh escaped from Illumi as he decided he simply couldn't let Hisoka die. Though somewhere inside him he must have thought of saving Hisoka, why else would he have brought the man back here.

Illumi settled to the task at hand, grateful for the chance to think of something other then his particular relationship with Hisoka. Illumi was relieved his training as an assassin included the knowledge to treat the injuries he might incur from work. Illumi paused to admire his work. It is a wonder he survived, particularly with that impressive wound at the base of his head. Once he was satisfied with Hisoka's condition, he gathered bandaging and enveloped nearly every inch of the unconscious form before him.

Several days later Hisoka finally awoke to the soft sounds of soft pacing by his side. "I feel like hell." He announced to the world in general, he noticed the pacing stopped.

"As expected, I am a professional." Illumi stated with some satisfaction.

Looking curiously at the tall figure next to him Hisoka asked, "And who are you? No, better yet, who am I?" Clutching his aching head, he rubbed it, trying to figure out what was going on. Why exactly can't I remember a damn thing about myself?

The other regarded Hisoka with an odd expression, if it could be said the other man had an expression at all. "You really don't remember anything?"

If I remembered would I be asking you?" Hisoka responded disturbed by his lack of memory.

Resuming his pacing, an idea materialized for Illumi. If Hisoka does not remember who he is, then technically Hisoka the magician no longer exists. Yet again, Illumi found himself speculating about why he preferred Hisoka alive. He's been enough of an annoyance for me to eliminate him a hundred times over.

Realizing he had been silent for too long without answering Hisoka's questioning gaze, he said "Someone wanted you dead, it would be best if you stayed here for now."

Hisoka considered asking who it was, but decided there was no point since he probably would not remember who it was anyway. Instead, he focused on the person in front of him. "So why are you taking care of me? Are you my girlfriend?" He asked seemingly innocently.

Illumi nearly gagged at the thought, but outwardly maintained his composure. "No," was his firm answer, "I'm not female." Although with his long black hair and slight figure others have made the same mistake before. Those others didn't live long enough to regret their actions towards him.

"Oh," Hisoka continued looking at Illumi. "Then you must be my boyfriend." He said, grinning ever so boldly.

Illumi felt the beginnings of a headache. Even without his memories he's as perverse as ever. I really should have killed him. He contemplated a pin thoughtfully. Trying to maintain his impassive mask and gritting his teeth he replied with, "No, I am NOT your boyfriend. Besides, I don't think anyone could reach your caliber of insanity to become that attached to you."

Seeing the mischievous glint in Hisoka's eyes he knew what the next question was going to be, "I got it! You must be my lov—" Hisoka's voice was quickly cut off by a pin speeding by his ear, thunking into the wall behind his head.

End Notes - The idea arose after reading a couple fanfics where one character or another lost his or her memory. I do not know if I will ever continue this because I have quite a short attention span. Next week I image I will probably be making a million icons instead or something along those lines.