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Final Word Count: 3355

tw// swearing, spelling bees, horror story

If you have any serious triggers or are a sensitive reader/below 13, please skip the story, or at least read the notes at the bottom where the spoiler tws can be found.

–
Potions, Poisons, and Propositions

Maji wasn’t like the sweaty, stinking teenagers who slunk the halls of Mono’s Academy. The smartest 14 year old in the country, the best goddamn soccer player this whole pigsty had ever seen, the most charismatic god you could meet.

A bit of magic only made that easier. He was a prodigy, born and raised, and everyone could only look on in awe.

And now, he sat in the Principal’s Office while the bloody fool rambled on and on about his achievements.

Don’t get him wrong- he loved a good ego stroking. But the man wouldn’t shut up. A “Excellent academic performance” here, a “teachers sing praises” there. “National leagues”, and oh god, Maji was sick of it.

“Tell me why you brought me here,” Maji commanded with a flick of his fingers. “Now.”

The man’s eyes glazed over instantly. “Yes, Majikaruman.”

“Call me Maji, my good man.” Maji smiled. “Is there any particular reason you’ve been rambling at me for half an hour? Or am I that special you just wanted to see me?”

As all men under the Mind-Weave, the principal lacked a sense of humour. “I was going to ask Majikaruman Dōseiai-shadearimasu to join the National Spelling Bea. I signed him up last night, knowing he would agree.”

Maji’s eyebrows shot up. Well, that was something to punish the fool for. But still, interesting. Maji hadn’t competed in a Spelling Bea since he took second in Second Grade-

It was a worthless endeavor. Nothing about it would dictate his future.

But perhaps now- he was competing with full use of his magic. He could find a million ways to… pass the rounds.

He smiled, suddenly in a good mood. “Tell you what- you had a good conversation with him. He was utterly delighted by the prospects and agreed immediately. Understood?”

The man agreed, tumbling all over himself to open the door for his master.

He left the room, humming to himself. The world around him crackled with magic. Something good was coming.

—-

He didn’t like his new room.

The shutters didn’t close all the way. Silvers of light striped across the grainy floor. Perhaps it was his witchhood that did that.

“You know, baby, you’re the most important one in the world to mommy, right?”

Seven year old Majikaruman Dōseiai-shadearimasu wriggled on her lap, trying to peer up at her face. She wrapped her arms tighter around him and drew him closer.

“Course I do, mama,” he mumbled, ceding to her grip. “I’m important to you, so I’m important to the world?”

She hummed, pleased. “Good. Always keep that in mind, Maji. Even after I’m gone, you’ll always be special, because I loved you.”

“If you go, how will I ever be special?”

He felt something clasp around his throat. He gave a yelp, pulling back from her suddenly loose arms to see-

Nothing.

Whatever necklace had been there was gone.

She smiled down at him. “You’re the last witch, baby. And because of that, everything in the world will be less than you. You will not be special, but the most special. I will ensure it’s yours.”

She had blue eyes. And when she sang, it felt like the whole world was bowed at both their feet.

“Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing…”

“You’ll get me a… garnet?” he perked up. “Instead of a diamond? It’s my favourite colour, mama!”

“Find then,” she agreed with an easy laugh. “If the mockingbird doesn’t sing- then I’ll make sure you get the biggest, shiniest gemstone in the world.”

“And it’ll be orange, right? Or a-amber?”

“It’ll be amber, for sure, baby.”

The world was his to control. Every little detail ceded to him, and he owned it all.

And yet those goddamn shutters still wouldn’t close.

—

Round one was brought on by an onslaught of applause. Each contender took their bows.

You’ll all be cheering for me soon, he thought.

Each player was introduced by their name. Maji promptly forgot each and every name. A Shinji here, a Gundham there- Pathetic, honestly. No one tried a bit to stand out.

“Welcoming contestant number #11, hailing from Mono’s Academy, one of the topmost schools in the country! One of our mid-contestants, at age 14. I introduce you to- Majikaruman Dōseiai-shadearimasu!”

“You can just call me Maji!” he chirped. The crowd fluttered at the words, loving the silly boy on screen. So charismatic, so sweet. It made Maji smirk.

Each person stumbled over at least one word. Maji didn’t even know what words he’d spelled thus far- as soon as the judge spoke to him, he let his magic take over, and produce the outcome he wanted.

He didn’t care how it happened. He wanted to win.

Person after person were down. Just him and one last fool, who was about to be taken out like the trash he was.

Maji waited as the person next to him spelled out a long word. He didn’t even know what it meant, much less how to spell it. The warm feeling of victory hung just over the precipice. These fools were no match for magic. He was the last witch and he would take what he deserved-

“Tie!” the judge cried.

No.

“Majikaruman Dōseiai-shadearimasu, at 100%!”

“Hisoka Yamanaku matching word for word!”

Hisoka Yamanaku, Hisoka Yamanaku, Hisoka Yamanaku-

He turned and he saw amber eyes.

Back in Grade Two, he’d been high on his newfound power. He’d competed in everything, and won. And when he’d won some, he’d won some more, and he’s competed higher and higher. When he’d first been told he could enter the spelling bea, it’d seemed like just another chance to prove himself.

Until he stumbled over a word.

And a pretty boy stepped forward and boldly spelled it out letter for letter.

Until he’d seen amber eyes, the exact shade as the ones now. A condescending smirk with the same uptilt he saw now. And that horrible name-

The one read out at the one competition his magic had lost him.

Hisoka Yamanaku, his enemy. The bastard who had the guts to leave schools when Maji punished him. The demon who had stolen his victory and ran, taking Maji’s last chance at revenge.

He now smiled at him, victory twinkling in amber eyes. Hair clipped closer to his skull. Cheekbones jutting in his face. Ironed suit, child’s tuxedo left to the decades.

Maji saw red.

“Beat one more round and these two will be moving onto the semi-finals! Give a round of applause.”

The crowd cheered for him, at last, as he deserved, and yet Maji didn’t care. Because Hisoka Yamanaku was smiling at them all, and they were smiling back.

They smiled at the thief.

—-----

Maji stormed back to his hotel room, running through the various hexes he knew. None seemed painful enough. A thousand holes, burrowing into his chest? Tempting, but nothing the rat couldn’t hide. A disease which peeled that tan skin back from his skull until those cursed amber eyes fell out? A beautiful image, but it wasn’t painful enough for that stupid smirk-

“Maji? Is that you?”

He stopped in his tracks. “Hisoka.”

“Ah, I thought so.” Hisoka slipped next to him. He was taller than Maji, but skinnier.

“What do you want? Come to gloat?”

Hisoka seemed genuinely confused. “Gloat? Gloat over what? Tying with you on a match?”

“Yes. No one’s supposed to tie me.”

“Isn’t that a bit arrogant?”

Maji startled. He hadn’t meant to let that thought slip. He considered wiping Hisoka’s mind. But he knew that Hisoka would be delirious with pain soon. He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone.

“Normally why I don’t tell people that,” he said pleasantly. “Not exactly common, though. You must be proud of yourself.”

“Are you?” Hisoka questioned.

“What?”

“Proud. You took first place. Are you proud?”

“Of course not. You beat me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “At least in your mind.”

Maji hoped he died a very painful death. Perhaps the thousand holes was good enough, if Maji could be there to plunge a stake into his heart.

“Just like, in my mind, you won back then.”

Maji startled badly. Hisoka caught him with an arm around his waist. “Hey there. Don’t fall on me.”

“Back then?” he demanded with an embarrassing crack to his voice.

Hisoka faltered that time. “Do you not recognize me?”

“Of course I do,” he snapped, dislodging Hisoka. “You’re the one who beat me. In Grade Two..”

“Yes,” Hisoka agreed. “And you’re the one who beat me.”

Maji blinked. He barely remembered his own revenge on Hisoka. Just that he’d punished him- and he’d had the nerve to run. Everything Hisoka had done.

Nothing about what he’d done.

Suddenly, he felt something, something sick and fearful rising up in him. Why? Because of this bastard? The one who stole his victory- but who he’d tormented to the point that he remembered it decades later?

“That’s what you don’t remember.” Those cursed amber eyes watched Maji intently. “What I became. Who you became. Because to yourself, people are only how you perceive them. Their actions, their atrocities matter nothing to you unless they pave your road or put a bump in it.”

“What do you know about me?” Maji bit back, more for the sake of it than anything. That horrible feeling was getting stronger.

“I was your victim, Maji. You learn a lot more from underneath the shoe than you do above it.”

Maji remembered jamming his foot onto that slender throat. Except it was pudgy- and the amber eyes were bulging and pleading. And the arms which were unwrapping themselves from his waist were instead clawing at his leg.

That might have been the last day that Hisoka was at Hope’s Peak Elementary School.

The feeling was gone. Instead something odd panged at his chest. Like he’d lost something. Like something had been stolen from him, and he hadn’t even known until he’d found it, worn and rusted after a decade or so.

Something about Hisoka was dimmed from that pudgy eight year old. Something about him was emptier, something about that biting voice that was more lost, than anything-

As if the man was afraid of him.

But those eyes, they were still the same. Even when they glared instead of begged. They were the shade of his memories.

“I see you’re still the exact same as you were back then,” Hisoka said quietly. He looked at the staircase.“I apologize for bothering you. I’ll be going then.” He withdrew from Maji’s side.

Maji wondered if he could knock him down to get him to stay.

“Want to practice together, later?” he said instead.

Those eyes snapped to him.

—

“I don’t know why you keep inviting me over here,” Hisoka muttered. His eyes were fixed on the cards as he sorted them. “We both could easily study on our own.”

“I like your company.”

Hisoka’s gaze slid over to him, eyes narrowed. “Of course.”

“Would I lie to you?”

“That’s all you do, Maji dear.” He lifted an eyebrow, licked a nicked finger, and set the cards down. “I’m starting to believe honesty is a lost art on you.”

“As is your shuffling skills.” Maji nodded to the cards. “Want me to do them?"

Hisoka raised both eyebrows, but handed them over. “I’d be offended, except I fully agree with you.”

Maji laughed, only half-paying-attention as he piled the cards. He liked Hisoka’s voice more than his words. The brain inside was what had stole his glory.

He began to shuffle the cards. Hisoka watched, leaning back on his hands.
“I’m still waiting for an answer, you know.”

“Oh shut up.”

And shut up Hisoka did. Those amber eyes grew dim as he gazed off at the bars of light the shutters failed to withold.

—

“Why are you here?”

“Because I want to win,” Maji replied instantly. “What else? No one competes for an honour-based competition for any other reason.”

Hisoka smiled faintly. “What else indeed,” he murmured, as if half to himself.

Maji didn’t like that look. The way those amber eyes were half lidded- hiding the colour. He wanted them to be looking at him.

“I’ll return the favour, then. Why are you here?”

Hisoka laughed. “For once, you can follow a social cue.”

“Naw, that’s you. You’re the one who can’t talk.”

“Maybe so.” Hisoka sobered up. “To answer your question- I think some part of me wanted to be. Here, I mean. I’m not sure. But, Maji… I’m not doing this for myself. Not entirely.”

Maji expected that. But still, it made something pang odd in his chest. “The Bea?”

Hisoka nodded intently, his chest rising and falling with each gradual breath. “Yeah… I have a family at home. They need this. If I disappointed them…” He lowered his head, stiffening. “...never mind.”

“What do they need?”

“Victory,” Hisoka said quietly. “We can’t have another loss. It’s up to me.” His fingers were digging into the sheets. He avoided eye contact and instead started examining a afghan.

“You seem enough of a victor for me.”

Hisoka looked up at him, then. “I thought that of you. I guess we were both wrong.”

Maji didn’t feel angry at that. How strange. Perhaps it was because those eyes were looking at him. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Hisoka started laughing.

“What?” Maji started to feel embarrassed. “What are you doing? Why’re you laughing?”

“That’s just so normal,” Hisoka confessed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Nothing like you.” He smiled at Maji. “Fine then. I want to design things.”

“Design?” Maji blinked. “Like what, clothes? I could see you with that.”

“Sure-” Hisoka hesitated. “No. No, not clothes.” He thought for a minute. “I want to design jewelry. Accessories. Maybe designer clothes, sure. But for the most part, I want to work with metal.”

“And stones?” Maji questioned.

“And stones.”

“What about diamonds?” Some childhood memory came back to him. “And garnet?”

“Garnet?” Hisoka gave him a funny look. “That’s an odd one. But yes, I suppose.”

“Design jewelry.” That’s what you’re made to be. That’s what your eyes are made to be.

“I’ll consider it. Now. Your turn. What’re you hoping to be?”

“A magician,” he said. “I’m going to work with stage magic. But more importantly- I want the stage. I want to stare down my audience and have them react to my talent, and not just me. I want to control them all, and yet feel the precipice before I know if they laugh or sneer.”

“Deep.” Hisoka laughed, falling back on the bed. He grinned through his fingers. “You got a laugh out of me there, Maji. I think I can see you on the stage. Doing something bigger than our one on ones.” He lifted the blanket and let it settle over his ribs.

“I think you’re better than an audience of a thousand,” Maji lied.

“Mhm. Sure.”

“Really.”

“Shut up, I’m going to take a nap.”

—

“And once again, the two tie! Can either of them beat the other? Perhaps it will come down to time… But that concludes the semi-finals! On we go, folks!”

—
“I can’t wait to go back home,” Maji remarked.

“Mhm.” Hisoka shifted, looking up at the clock. He kept doing that.

“And then you can come see–” Maji stopped. What am I saying? That this sick, arrogant, lowly… this creature coming with me?

Hisoka went rigid. But when he tilted his head back, his face was smooth and untroubled. “...You? Someone else? What, Maji?”

Maj smile. “It’s nothing, don’t worry a thing about it. You can come see me win. That’s what I wanted to say.”

There must have been something about Maji’s tone. Hisoka didn’t look very happy, as Maji anticipated. He was so nearly silent, you could barely even hear him breathing. There was this twitch that kept running through his shoulders, as if he were trying so hard not to show something.

His eyes caught a glint of something, a glint of unexpected color. Maji looked to see it was… his bag. What had Hisoka seen in there…?

“Are those… matches?” Hisoka asked him in a quiet, hesitant voice. “Do you… smoke, Maji?”

Maji smirked, while inside he wondered at that tone. “Naw, I let my lungs live, and they let me breathe. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”

Hisoka didn’t smile. “Why do you have those?”

“Just in case I need them for anything. You never know when you might need to light a candle or cauterize a battle wound. Heh.”

Hisoka paused. “I need to go. It’s been… pleasant talking to you, Majikaruman.”

The witch didn’t respond, as he walked away, but couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Hisoka’s amber eyes…

—
“Wish me luck?” Maji asked.

Hisoka didn’t look up. “Good luck.”

Maji felt a tingle of unease.

—

“The words are depleted! Hisoka Yamanaku and Majikaruman Dōseiai-shadearimasu, are the final contestants. And by time, the winner is-”

Maji’s heart sunk in his chest.

The words ripped it straight out.

His magic hadn’t accounted for time. His brain hadn’t been able to produce the spelling of Escharotic before Hisoka’s hours of studying had. Those stupid cards-

“Hisoka Yamanaku! Hisoka Yamanaku!”

He was sick of hearing that name.

—-

“It’s not my fault I studied harder than you did.”

Maji paced around the man, fighting the urge to rip him apart. “I was supposed to be win. You were supposed to be second. We were going to go home and we were going to-”

“Home?”

Maji stopped short.

“We attend different schools Maji. I assumed we wouldn’t see each other after our study sessions.”

“Oh?”

“It’s only natural. One of us was never going to forgive the other. It’s the nature of competition- of people like us.”

Maji stared at the bars of light on the floor. The shutters were draped, but the light was still there.

He reached out-

And he snuffed it out.

“In any case,” Hisoka continued. “I’m leaving. My sister is expecting me, and I have a job back home. And a social life, though-” he cut himself off. “Maji?”

“The light,” Maji said softly.

“What light?”

“You never noticed it? How the curtains never fully close?”

“Is this some metaphor for the stageshow? I know you’re planning to be a magician, but honestly-”

“The dorm curtains. They’re always open, just a bit. Always just a bit of light, coming in.”

“Maji, are you mad? What are you saying? Calm yourself-”

And Maji turned and with a flick of his wrist he smothered the rest of the light in the dorm.

—-

Maji supposed there was really only one thing he missed about his childhood punching bag.

He hummed as he walked down the hall, suitcase bumping against his thigh. The old tune of his childhood came back to him-

Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, she’s gonna buy you a diamond ring…

He strolled down to the entrance. The flocks of humans were thinning. Everyone was gone. The winners had been named. No excited parents or judges bothered to remain. It seemed only the janitors remained to clean up.

This whole place might be a tough job.

He paused by the door. The suitcase stilled against his hip. Closing his eyes, he drew forth the image of his treasure inside.

The one thing in the world he’d needed.

He smiled, patted it, and continued on.

—

The corpse of Hisoka Yamanaku would be found hours later. The many stab wounds to the face occurred while the victim was still alive. The crushed state of the body rendered it mostly unrecognizeable as a human form.

But the most disturbing thing by far were the empty eye sockets, lovingly cauterized by a match to staunch the bleeding. His eyes were once amber, they said. Perhaps some twisted serial killer wanted it for their collection.

The amber had certainly been envied by many.

---

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