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We rest in a forest outside of Antokiba, which Bisky pointed out when we were near the city. She advised us to drop into the river and swim to shore to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. As I let myself fall from the sky, I watch the wambari fly high and it's like time slows down. Their majestic wings hug the crystal blue air as daylight grows nearer. Sunlight glows between the gold of their wingtips. Their squawks fill the space as they continue on wherever they're going.

How can they look so free after being trapped so long? Bodies reborn, spread wide like this vastness belongs to them. Would I ever be able to feel that way again, or will my body always feel like it belongs to someone else? My past. My nightmares. Now Mattheo.

Even after swimming in the river for half an hour, water reaching every crevice of me, I still feel his flesh on mine. The way he stroked his erection against my backside and pulled my panties to the side. A room full of men were prepared to stand there and watch, thinking he was justified for putting me in my place.

I hadn't felt that powerless since I was a child. Okay, maybe a few times over the years when I was still building myself up as a hunter. But I've always found an escape, a way to outsmart or overpower my opponent. Even when they had the advantage. This was the first time in a while where someone took away my choice and all I could do was accept it. I didn't recognize myself.

It scares me to think of how many other women Mattheo likely assaulted. Women with less strength, agency, and resources than me. I could tell by how strong he became when I was subdued that it wasn't his first time. Humiliating and breaking people turns him on. Like some creep who kills animals in a tool shed. For this reason, I need to make sure he dies. So that no one else has to suffer at his hands again. Thankfully, my contract says I can bring him in dead or alive.

An interrogation is mandatory. I'll have to see what he knows about my dad. Come to think of it, I don't know what he did for a living, but it bothers me to know that he worked with someone like Mattheo. Were they friends? Did he know Mattheo the way I did? I'm always jealous of anyone who got to know my father in ways I didn't. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really wanted me. Mattheo knew enough about my dad to know mentioning him could hurt me, so I plan to have fun turning the tables.

The river is so green with algae. Water snakes ripple through the waves while turtles rest on the ground. Our arms and legs fan out between us as a run of salmon swim past and kick up dirt like we're not even there. Rust colored stripes decorate the sides of their olive bodies.

When we get to shore, we set a fire, and wring out our clothes. Afterwards, Gon and Bisky get some rest while Killua and I keep watch. Sleep is the last thing on my mind between the nightmares and what just happened, so I'm happy to have a reason to stay up. Besides, you never know what bandits might come through the woods looking to steal some cards or...something else.

I'm hyperaware of everything around me. Each smell and gesture down to the breeze. The flutter of a fly's wings slow down before me. How light fills the trees. The whistle of leaves. Anything that has flesh and can touch me. Anything could be a deception. It's hard not to be sensitized after being pinned down and trapped like an animal.

I'm thankful for Killua's silence as the morning slowly presses on. Some monotony to balance out the crazy. I notice him playing with the card I gave him at Heaven's Arena.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

I look at him and feel myself blush, feel my weakness being exposed. "You saw what happened?"

He nods his head.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

He looks down, his hair and shadow hide his eyes. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. I'm just sorry I didn't get there sooner."

I watch him shift his weight from one foot to the other. The conversation makes him nervous. He can't even look at me, yet he brought it up anyway because he thought it's what I needed. How sweet. And brave. Most adults would be afraid to broach the subject. "That's kind of you, but it's nothing you need to worry about," I say, rubbing his shoulder.

"Please don't worry about me. I'm fine. You were the one who—" Killua's teeth clench as he shrinks back.

I shrug. "Almost got raped. It's okay to say it. It's just a word. And I'm fine. It didn't actually happen. Try not to dwell on it. No kid should have to think about it."

"Please stop talking to me like I'm a kid."

"But you are."

"I'm a hunter dammit."

Oh that's cute. His little piercing blue cat eyes and rosy cheeks. If I didn't think it'd hurt his feelings, I'd laugh out loud. "What are you? 12?"

He crosses his arms. "And a half."

I can't hold back my smile any longer, which means a lot right now. I bend down to face him. "Look, you're many great things, but a man isn't one of them. Not yet at least. You should really try enjoying your childhood."

"I don't know what that means. My family raised me to be an assassin since I was 3."

I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. "...I hope I'm not the first person to tell you that that's deeply disturbing and not normal."

"That disturbs you, but Hisoka doesn't?"

I stand up to my full height and step back from him. "I'm not doing this with you again. I'm not in the mood and this talk isn't about him." It's not about Killua either, but I'm also not interested in talking about myself. I miss the silence. It didn't judge or ask questions. It just let things be. That's the greatest appeal of nature to me.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I just—" Killua looks down at his feet, "you're so beautiful and strong," he lightly kicks pebbles on the ground, "the thought of anyone violating you..."

"No one deserves that. But I'm grateful that you and Gon were there to save us." He's not going to let up unless I distract him, so I kiss him on the cheek, look in his eyes, stroke his hair, and soften my voice. "And I'd be happy to start training you whenever you're ready.

His face grows warm and flushed and his eyes expand to the size of a baby doll's. His mouth twitches like he's about to have a conniption. "You—I—uh—well. I'm just gonna—yeah." He speeds away from me faster than I've ever seen him move.

Bisky approaches and rubs sleep from her eyes. "Uh ma'am, were you flirting with that child?"

"Just enough to shut him up," I said stretching my arms up and cracking my back. Of course I knew Killua had never hung around a girl, let alone touch one, so it made sense he wouldn't know what to do with himself after I did that. "I got tired of him playing therapist. Speaking of which, please don't—"

Bisky raises her hand for me to stop. "If you wanna talk, you'll talk. We all deal with our emotions differently. Just know I'm here if you need anything."

I nod knowing I have no intention of taking her up on her offer. "Thanks. Let's move out." 

***

We walk along one of the paths into town. The boys need to earn more cards. I should too. Mattheo likely went to a place that's harder to get to and requires a higher level in order to gain access. Antokiba's getting ready to have their monthly contest for a giveaway card so other players have made their way here too no doubt. For this reason, there's a good chance the Bomber and nen exorcist will be here. It's nice to focus on work again. Someone else gets to be the target.

Everything in town is brown and brick. The buildings and roads give it an old time peasant feel. There's a fountain in the middle of the town square where people are gathered, some for the market, others just stand around like they're waiting for further instructions. Seagulls circle overhead, looking for scraps of food in the crowd. The sun is high and hot, but the air's more breathable than last night's jungle. Horses trot with carriages on the path beside of us.

So much bustle. It'll take me a minute to adjust to all the stimulation. People touch shoulder to shoulder as they move around. They're harmless, but still, I don't feel like being touched, not even by myself. Touch feels constraining, like it'll trap me. I hear myself breathe as I try to calm down. Everyone's voices crash against the back of my neck like buzzing flies. What is wrong with me? I've never felt like this before.

I know most of these people are civilians and non-threatening, yet I feel scared. My nen powers up without me even commanding it to.

"Oby are you okay?" Gon asks and touches my arm.

My stomach lurches and I flinch away. It takes everything in me not to hit him. The thought makes me feel terrible, but I don't know how to get rid of it. I close my eyes and try to center myself. "I'm fine."

Miraculously, a speaker approaches the middle of the square and tells us about this month's contest, silencing my anxiety for a minute. He's about my height, pudgy, and dressed in a jester's outfit. His hair is slicked into a heart shape.

"Alright ladies n gents, this month's contest will be..." he looks around for dramatic effect "a singing competition!" Game show music plays once he says this. Gon, Bisky, and Killua look at each other nervously.

"Please tell me one of you can sing," Bisky pleads as a vein appears on her left temple.

"About as much as a cat underwater," Gon replies.

"I got this one," I tell them.

It's been a while since I sang. In fact, I really did it the few times I went to church as a kid. My mother made me because she liked the attention we'd get from my recitals. Members from the congregation would tell her how blessed she was to give birth to a songbird. She didn't get a lot of compliments in life, so I guess she took them where she could get them. One of the softer memories I have of my mother is I'd sing to her. Sometimes that calmed her to sleep.

There were times where I thought it'd be my voice that saved me. Then Gin came along and hunting and dance took over. Back then it didn't matter what talent I used, just as long as I got out of that hellhole. But later I learned that dance shows a beauty and confidence I didn't always have and I've been happy with my choice to pursue it ever since. Still, it's nice to have some other skills in my repertoire.

The contest host begins explaining the rules. "It'll work like karaoke except I'd advise you against sounding like a drunken monkey when it's your turn. You'll each be able to choose your music based on our playlists. The judges will rank you based on voice, performance, and crowd reaction. The judges will also remain anonymous for protection. Last month we had an unfortunate altercation that resulted in a hospitalization. For those of you who were here last month, you'll be happy to know that Phil has feeling in the right side of his body again." He gives a thumbs up.

"Jeez it's just a competition. People need to lighten up," Killua says.

"The contest will start in an hour. Please enter your name and choice in this box and we'll choose at random who's going," he says.

I start walking up to the front and think of what I'd like to sing. It should be happy and upbeat to take my mind off things, but also show my voice's strength and range. Something I could dance to...a few beats start playing in my head and I hum to see if any of them stand out.

When I get in line, a familiar soft voice comes up from my side. "Are you sure you wanna do this? Gon and I can figure something out if you need—"

Bisky walks up to my other side. "Killua, you already saved her. She's good now. If Oby says she's got it, she's got it."

Killua points in Bisky's face, his hand brushing against my waist. "Listen you old hag, no one asked you!"

Bisky grabs his finger and squeezes it until it cracks. Nothing broken, but obviously it's painful by his wincing face. "Don't make me embarrass you in public."

My brows raise as I separate their hands from each other. "No need to fight. I'll win the prize for us, honey. No worries." I rub the back of Killua's head and watch goosebumps prickle down his neck. "Now go wait with Gon."

"Okay," he says in a in a nervous pitchy voice before walking away.

Bisky gives me side eye. "Laying the temptress act on kinda thick aren't you?"

"The only thing I'm trying to tempt him to do is mind his business and stop treating me like some fragile object," I reply.

"It is kinda cute in an annoying protective chihuahua sort of way."

I smile. "Ain't it?"

"So what are you thinking about singing?" she asks as we look at the selection list.

Songs that have already been picked are crossed out, but there's still a wide range. "River Deep, Mountain High" by Tina Turner. "Ray of Light" by Madonna. "Bleeding Love" by Leona Lewis. "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus. "Reflection" and "Beautiful" by Christina Aguilera. The songs are organized by decade and genre.

Since a lot of contestants picked contemporary pop songs, I decide to switch it up and do something retro. Let's do... the 70s. I love the hair and clothes from the disco era. Still, the song has to have strong vocals. Jackson 5. Al Green. Marvin Gaye. Dionne Warwick. Maxine Nightingale. That's it. "Right Back Where We Started From." That song was my jam when I was 8 years old. I click on it and hear a remake of it. Nothing I can't handle.

"This is the one," I tell Bisky.

By the time everyone's picked a song, we have 30 minutes left. I listen to my song on my phone. Get into its rhythm and memorize the lyrics, but it'll mainly be about stage presence. I can feel the percussion and wind instruments, the smile in the words, the jumps and steps of the choreography.

Killua panics like he's the one who has to go up. "How can you turn yourself on and off to perform without any practice?"

"I get it," Gon says rubbing his chin, "it's like fighting. We might study our opponent's technique, but once you get in the ring there's no predicting what can happen. That's part of what makes it so exciting. I think the process of performing is the same for Oby."

I nod. "That and I've been doing this for a while."

Maybe it's how he holds his face or the way the light's hitting him, but Gon looks so much like his father. The few times Ging's face was thoughtful like that, he agreed with me about anything we discussed. Funny how charismatic an asshole can be.

Gon nudges Killua's arm with a mischievous grin. "Besides, we saw her dance at Heaven's Arena. We know she can work a crowd."

Killua looks down and blushes. Aww he's embarrassed at the mention of my seductive intro with Hisoka. I grin at the thought of what they said about me after the show.

Bisky clears her throat. "Save the wet dreams for later you two. We're on a mission," she turns to me "Do you need any props, costuming, or anything else?"

I look around at all the other contenders rehearsing. Most of them look so comical, awkwardly stepping on each other's feet, vocalizing scales in flat, tone-deaf voices. Some rush together outfits, trying to get into character. Michael Jackson. Sam Mendes. NWA. But it's so forced that anyone can see they're trying to be someone they're not.

I've been doing this for years and one thing an audience can always tell is if you're being real with them or not. You have to make them believe in you, make them feel everything you feel on stage is true, give them the excitement, beauty, power that's absent from their lives. I am my best self in those moments. My past doesn't exist. I'm just who the viewer wants me to be. It's a weightless sensation that makes me feel incapable of pain or dying. I'm safe there. Transcendent.

That kind of passion isn't something you can practice. You either have it, or you don't.

"No," I say with a smile, "I'm good."

***

Gon and Killua spend the last few minutes telling me about their training with Bisky. Holding boulders in their sleep, chasing raptor-like reptiles, standing under the Snow River waterfall, one of the coldest, strongest currents in the world. All while harnessing their nen. Tough, but necessary. Sounds like Bisky's been doing her job.

It's strange, when I look at her she appears to be an adolescent girl, but when she transformed at the safe house, it was like her true age and strength came out. I'm tempted to ask her about it, but I'll wait til we're alone.

A bell rings at the center of the square and we see that a stage has been set up out of nowhere.

The host steps up. "Alright, folks. It's that time! When your name's called, come to the stage and show us what you got!"

I can feel the tension in everyone around us, how nervous some of them are. A guy with spiked green hair and several piercings grabs a poor old woman's hat and vomits in it. Other people stretch and massage their jaws, run through scales and tongue twisters.

"Near an ear, nearer an ear, a nearly eerie ear."

"Lesser weather never weathered wetter weather better."

"A skunk sat on a stump and thump the skunk stunk, but the stump thunk the skunk stunk."

I giggle at how ridiculous they look, though I understand everyone's process is different. I shouldn't underestimate my opponents. There could be a diamond in the rough somewhere.

The host pulls name after name. On the bright side, it's been a while since I've been this entertained. Kudos to everyone for getting out of their comfort zones, but after seeing the stiff choreography and hearing scratchy voices annihilate songs, it's clear they need to go back where their comfort resides. I don't understand why people try to be Whitney Houston when they're not even Flavor Flav.

A few people forget their lines, others get stage fright and run off completely. One poor girl literally pees her pants and has to be escorted off the stage by security because her legs are so jittery. A few people try to bust out some dance moves and it's just that —a bust. Some guys with no sense of flow decide to rap Notorious B.I.G., Kendrick Lamar, and Slick Rick. It's so bad it's disrespectful.

They must not have friends. Because if they did, their friends should've told them the truth. Just because you listen to the song at the gym or sing along with it while cleaning your apartment doesn't mean you're ready for the public. Honestly, I don't think most participants ever sang or danced without being drunk. As you can see, I'm hard to impress, very biased, and perhaps even a bit of a bitch...but it doesn't mean I'm wrong.

I laugh as I think about what Ging would say to humble me right now. "Don't act like you didn't come from a rough start. I knew you when you only had two seconds of hair, no lashes, and skin like sandpaper. Give people a chance." Have to hand it to him, sometimes he tells me the truth when I need to hear it.

Finally, my name gets called. My group cheers me on as I go up.

"Good luck!"

"Go get'em!"

"Hurry up and win this thing so we can get out of here," Bisky says in a bored voice while looking at her nails.

When I'm at the corner of the stage, the host whispers in my ear like he doesn't want anyone to notice. "I'm such a fan and definitely rooting for you!"

I roll my shoulders back to loosen up and take the mic from the stand. Just as I expect violins to sound, the track comes out in garbled tones, skipping sections before flattening out. I don't know what to say or do for this. All my limbs are frozen stiff with anxiety as I try to think of a backup plan. The crowd looks just as confused, while Killua and Bisky appear horrified, all the color drawn from their faces like ghosts.

"Whoops! Guess that was a bad track. Do you have a backup song?" the host asks.

I try thinking of a song I know all the words to fast.

"The judges agreed to give you 10 seconds to decide before you're disqualified."

"What!" I shout back.

"Wait that's not fair! Someone's clearly trying to sabotage her!" Gon shouts.

There's a good chance that's true, but who here would go out of their way to try and eliminate me? Calm down. Focus. Breathe. No it doesn't make sense that I'm being put on the spot last minute, but there's no use wasting the little time I have left arguing about it. It won't change anything. Looking around for anything to give me inspiration, I notice a man with a platinum blonde bob-styled wig on and I name the first artist that comes to mind.

"Sia!" Shit what song? I see another person wearing shiny glass earrings. "Umm, "Chandelier" by Sia."

It's been a while since I heard that song, but I remember singing along with it a few times when I was in the shower and in one of my dance classes during cooldown. I try to stitch my memories of the lyrics from each place I heard the song together. The hook is repetitive and takes up most of the tune so that's helpful. This is such bullshit! No matter how messy my life is I always come prepared to the stage. Whoever's trying to screw me over is going to pay.

"We have the piano version or the original. Which would you prefer?" the host asks as he flips through the playlist. He looks around at the audience instead of me like it's their call.

Some miscellaneous fool shouts out "Titanium" and a few people in the audience applaud this choice.

"Oooo good choice!" the host says pointing in the voice's direction. For someone who's supposedly rooting for me, he's throwing a lot of curve balls my way.

What the hell is going on? It's like this entire day took a hit of crack. Nothing makes sense. Am I in a dream? The kind where all my teeth fall out or I show up to school in only underwear? I have no control over the outlandish things that are happening. Why am I being targeted?

"Are there really no rules about switching songs last minute???" Killua demands approaching the host.

"No there aren't so take it away!" he responds as he draws a line from the audience to me with his finger, directing all attention to the stage.

Fuck fuck fuck! In the next few seconds of silence before the song begins, time slows down. I can't give into the pit building in my stomach. There's no room for panic. Besides, that's not who I am. Close your eyes. Find the words. You've heard this song before. I'm familiar with Sia's music. Shoot me down, but I won't fall...you got this. The hook is repetitive for this one too.

There are some notes I can hold if I need to think about what comes next — what am I saying? Who thinks when they sing? It's about feeling, so that's what I'll have to rely on. Put all the emotions you feel into the words. I flashback to the lyrics blasting in my ears while going for a run. The breathlessness of pushing myself to keep going even when my chest burned, when even my bones were sore. You shout it out...cut me down...stone heart, machine gun...I can do this. Or I'll go down trying.

Someone wants to see me fail, lately it feels like everyone does. It's my job to prove them wrong. To put up a hell of a fight, but it's so fucking exhausting.

A piano starts to play. I keep my eyes closed focusing on the words and their cadence. They're the only thing that exist now. 

https://youtu.be/ncZLvIu-tSM

You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say

I'm talking loud, not saying much

I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet

You shoot me down, but I get up

The words are armor, a form of resilience against the painful things done and said. But what's the point of armor if you've already been wounded? My thighs still sting from Mattheo. I can still feel the lash mark from Ging's sharp tongue. The pain and exhaustion of my body for fear of what will attack me in my dreams.

And when someone isn't attacking, my mind starts attacking itself, going back to the past, to mistakes I can't change, pains I can't unfeel. There is no ricochet. I've been bleeding for a while now. My voice builds with the chorus, strains to carry the note for Titanium. There's grit to my sounds, that builds with my emotion. I grip the mic as I sing the next verse.

Cut me down, but it's you who have further to fall

Ghost town, haunted love

Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones

Talking loud, not saying much

The longer I sing the song, the more uncomfortable it makes me. My face tries not to crinkle up with tears, but I know eventually they'll come. Am I as ugly as I feel right now? These words are lies, but I have to believe them enough to sing them, enough for everyone listening to feel strong, but my voice breaks while vocalizing. Rolls of thunder come up from my diaphragm and throat.

When I open my eyes and look out over the people staring back at me, I notice a particular set of sunset eyes watching me. He's in the back, leaning against a lamp post with his arms folded, a calm expression on his face. What's he doing here? Once I blink, he's no longer there. My eyes search through the sea of faces, but he's nowhere to be found. Maybe I just saw what I wanted to see. I don't know if I'm more disappointed or relieved that Hisoka's not here.

I feel so tired and weak like I failed at who I'm supposed to be. The warrior who I thought I was is just a scared little girl running from her problems. Fucking and fighting bad guys just to feel better about herself. My cheeks flush as the sun rises to its peak. A few beads of sweat travel down my back.

Stone heart, machine gun

Fired at the ones who run

Stone heart, as bulletproof glass

At this point it hurts to sing, but I know I have to finish. It won't be strong, but it will be raw because that's what I am right now. I wanted a feel good song, something to take away some of what I've been carrying. Instead I've been forced to sing into my wounds and put them on display for everyone to see and judge. I don't even remember what winning feels like. I'm tired of pretending that's the path I'm on. My voice feels guttural, like broken shards of glass are flying out in a painful blast that I try to match to words and music.

You shoot me down

But I won't fall

I am Titanium

As I hold the last note, singing out as big as I can, I feel all my shame and hurt go into it. Suddenly I hear applause. It feels so foreign to the voice inside my head. I've been a blithering mess and they like it? This feels like a confession of all my shortcomings including letting down my current team. I echo the chorus. I am Titanium. My voice softens with each repetition. I am Titanium. The edges are smoothed into a soulful whisper. I am Titanium. I play with the note until it leaves my mouth feeling hallowed. I am Titanium. The last of my energy leaves my body as I finish the song. The applause returns, a few shouts and whistles, but for the first time ever, I don't care. I'm too tired. Too angry. Too humiliated. This song destroyed the little that was left in me. It's all I can do to walk off stage and leave before anyone can catch up to me.

Running into town I hide in an alleyway to escape it all. The crowd, the sun, my team, my thoughts. It's too much. I don't have enough face to show anymore. I want to be nothing but my tears for a few moments. To be something simpler than human that can reset like another day. No room to take yesterday with me. Bodies can carry history just as minds do. I can't change that mine is sad as hell, but I wish it wouldn't rain on today so much.

My face stays hot with tears as I slide to the ground by the dumpster listening to the clutter of paper and glass on the floor moving with the wind. Part of me can't help but hold onto the applause. Pretend it can hug me and wipe my tears when I'm done. I know Bisky and the boys are looking for me, but I don't want to be found yet. My torso shakes against my knees, but I refuse to make any noise. I don't need my cries drawing attention and making things worse.

***

When I'm done and the puffiness of my eyes has gone down, I dust the dirt off my shorts and go out ready to pretend the last 20 minutes didn't happen. Taking the long way around takes me to the back of the crowd so no one will see me. I think of firing up my nen and using In as an added precaution but who has energy for that?

https://youtu.be/o-0ygW-B_gI

A guitar plays a few fiery chords along with drums and a synthesizer. A tall thin man is on stage now. Beaver brown skin, almond-colored eyes, dark blue pants. He wears a wife beater and a buckle around one of his muscular arms. Not hard on the eyes at all. He slips and slides to the beat , getting into character. The rough edges of his voice are magnetic. It's clear he's singing "Radio Ga Ga" by Queen and channeling his inner Freddie Mercury pretty well actually.

So don't become some background noise

A backdrop for the girls and boys

Who just don't know, or just don't care

And just complain when you're not there

I feel the power radiating through his fingertips as he sings out and balls them in a fist, demanding our attention. The veins in his hands pulsate when he thrusts his hand out in our direction. He puts the mic on the stand and claps during the chorus. The energy pulls some of the audience in and they clap too. His vocals continue to build strength.

All we hear is radio ga ga

Radio blah blah

Radio, what's new?

Radio, someone still loves you

This is one of my favorite rock songs. I remember listening to it on the radio at school or sometimes at a neighbor's house. It taught me how music can see someone when the rest of the world doesn't. How people can come and go from life, but music, art, will always be there.

There's something magical about his presence, how uplifting it is. He jumps out into the audience, surprising us all and waving his free arm around as if to include us in the words he sings. By the next chorus section, I realize he's going to win the contest.

More of the audience, including me, claps along until the song draws to a close with him walking back to the stage and striking a signature Mercury pose. His legs spread coquettishly, face raised to the sun. Very dramatic and true to form. I smile knowing I needed these last few moments outside of myself and feel grateful to him for giving this to me.

By the time applause erupts, Killua runs up to me. "We've been looking all over for you. Are you okay?" Bisky and Gon follow shortly after.

"Of course," I answer, trying to keep my face as neutral as possible.

"We weren't sure if you were getting emotional for real or if it was just part of the act," Gon says while moving closer to me.

"I mean you kicked ass, especially considering those douches changed the music on you," Bisky chimes in with a nudge.

"Where'd you go afterwards?" Killua asks.

This little shit really doesn't give up, does he?

"I took a minute to recuperate."

"But are you sure—"

I return his gaze for a moment before leaning over and flashing some of my cleavage to distract him, which works instantly. "Honey do me a favor and watch the rest of the show."

His eyes bulge with titillation before he turns back to the front, torn between what to focus on. Bisky rolls her eyes and looks forward too. We watch the last few acts which are lackluster except for one who does the cover of Adele's "Skyfall." She has a soulful voice that could get a contract and work well with acoustics, but it's not winning this competition.

After a 15-minute break for the judges to come to a decision, the host saunters back to the front to deliver the results. Ominous music starts to play as he speaks. "Well folks, it's that time. We've had some highs, and mostly lows, but we'll only have one winner."

"Omg just tell us already," Bisky mutters.

"It was a close call, almost a tie. The judges actually considered flipping a coin."

Killua shakes his head. "Whose hair-brained idea was that?"

"The winner of Antokiba's contest this month is..." the host pauses again, looking around at everyone's face as if it could be any of us. The background music's volume picks up a bit, thumping like a heartbeat.

"Spit it out!" Gon says through gritted teeth.

I turn to walk away. I already know who won. No need to drag things out further. The rest is just—

"Oby-y-y-y-y Nwaikee-e-e-e!" he shouts dragging out the letters in my name.

The reaction is mixed. Some people clap for me, others boo. The boys hoop and holler, jumping all over me like puppies and almost knock me over.

The host raises an arm and a golden card appears between his fingers. "Come on up and claim your prize!"

Stunned, I walk back up to the platform as path clears for me. A few pats on the back come, including from the guy who sang "Radio Ga Ga." I can't believe it. I thought my voice sounded wounded and ugly. Not like anything worthy of praise. Out of my peripheral vision, I see a familiar set of amber eyes and pale skin for a split second. I turn to see if it's Hisoka, only to see a bunch of strangers. Did I imagine that? I didn't even know I wanted to see him.

"Whenever you're ready," the host says.

Someone pushes me forward. I go up and take the card and he hugs me close to whisper in my ear. "Like I said, I'm always rooting for you."

As I look at him, I know he's the judge that broke the tie. "Thank you," I respond.

He makes some follow up announcements about other events and when the next contest will take place. On my way back to the group, a man approaches me, the one I think should've won. He flashes a slight grin. "Hey."

"Hey," I return.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks.

A pale force moves between us. "Excuse me, but we don't know you," Killua starts, "and if anyone is going to get her a drink, it'll be—"

"The grown ass man in front of me, thank you." Killua looks up at me with big angry and confused eyes with his fists balled up. I really don't want to embarrass him, but he needs to simmer down. "I'll meet you all back in the square in an hour. I look from him to Bisky and Gon to make sure we're all on the same page. They both nod while Killua gives the man a dirty look. I know he's going to watch us from a distance no matter where we go. The smile hits my face before I can do anything about it. His loyalty truly is adorable.

"There's a bar just up the street," the man says ignoring Killua's outburst. He tilts his head in the direction for us to head.

"Let's go," I say. Once we get out of the crowd, I notice he smells like almonds, which goes with the color and shape of his eyes. "I didn't catch your name."

"Abengane," he replies, reaching his palm out, "Nice to meet you, Oby."

I reach out and shake his hand. "Ditto."

His touch is warm, but I don't plan on having more than a drink and conversation with him. Looking around as we make our way over to the bar, I can't help but hope Hisoka's nearby, that he wasn't just a figment of my imagination earlier. His neutral demeanor would be a great distraction right now. He wouldn't impose uncomfortable questions on me...then he could take me home and we could finish what we started last night, which feels like ages ago now. He might even be able to put me to sleep, a nice, peaceful one. But alas, he's nowhere to be found, so Abengane will have to do in the meantime.

It's just nice to be around someone outside of my life, to be around someone who isn't a reminder of what I've been through. To have some mystery again. Wonder what he wants. I don't get the feeling it's anything too cheap and easy. That'd be boring. He might also know what the deal was with my music and if anyone was involved. I just hope he and that drink are worth my time.

Author's note: This chapter is longer than usual, but you guys deserve it after waiting so long for my next installment. I thought after the turmoil of the last chapter we'd switch things up and have a lighter plot here, hence the singing contest. Let me know if you have feedback. Is this chapter too long n descriptive in some areas? What do you think of the song choices? Are there particular questions you want(ed) answered? My sole goal for the next few days is finishing two more chapters for you this week! As hinted here, Hisoka is around and we'll all be seeing him shortly!

Take care of yourselves. The pandemic's been hard on so many of us. Know that you're not alone, that you're loved, and you're all in my thoughts. xoxox