Glass Girl [KilluaxReader]

A Life Worth Living

(Y/N) POV - 2562 words

I take a deep breath, "Do you want the details or just the need-to-know."

"I'll take the details, if you don't mind giving them to me."

I nod and say, "I trust you."

As a fellow assassin, Killua knows how precious trust is, and how hard it is to come by these days.

"It started when I was a child. As I'm sure you know, our families worked together, back when neither were known. This was over a hundred years ago. We worked together, gaining names for ourselves. As both of our families grew in renown and power, we began to become to strong to be close to each other. What was once a simple disagreement could turn into a death match. With two families of assassins, it wasn't a safe situation for either, especially with how strong they were. Since then, we've rivaled each other, fighting for the title of the most feared family of assassins. The only time we heard from the other was through rumors of successful jobs and high stakes missions.

"Your family stuck to the shadows, never showing your identities. We were less hidden. The only member of the family unknown to all, was me. People heard my name in the streets, but were never able to confirm whether or not a second child of the Glassi family existed. I remained a rumor whispered on the wind until two years ago, when our name was dropped entirely. It became taboo to think it, nonetheless utter it aloud," I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. The bed shifts and creaks a bit as Killua lays next to me.

"I'm sure you know all this already, so consider it a review." I close my eyes, savoring the memories, "When I was born, my parents were overjoyed. They'd produced a child stronger than any which existed in this world before and since, or so they said. They always used to tell me they felt a spark the second I took my first breath, like the world had started its clock towards the end. I always thought it was bullshit. From that second forward, they taught me how to be an assassin. They started by making me stronger, withheld food when I couldn't do what they wanted me to. I learned quickly the effects hunger could take. Before the age of four, I could go over a month without food or water. Now, I can go even longer. The training was ruthless. Once I was old enough to know the fear of pain, I was trained against torture, poison, the like. As all assassins do, I learned through exposure.

"I became stronger, quicker. One day, when I was six, everything stopped being challenging. Skills the top assassins had yet to master were child's play for me, and I even created some of my own techniques—like the Shadow Blossom you saw. My father tried to withstand the bloom and was hospitalized for two weeks. It's not the only trick I have up my sleeve, of course. Some of the things I can do may seem like magic to someone who doesn't know the hidden ways of the world," I refer to Nen in the most vague way possible. Killua needs to find out about Nen on his own.

"I'm trained against burning, lightning, drowning, fear, suffocation. Anything and everything. I was trained against everything my parents could think of, and they know a lot of ways to kill someone. They called me a prodigy, able to master something from only hearing the concept once."

"Damn," Killua whispers, "Is there anything you're not trained against?"

I give a derisive snort, "Well, my parents always said my compassion would be my downfall. I was hidden away from the world, kept a secret, so my weakness could never come to light. I was punished anytime a hint of empathy showed through, they were training me to be an object rather than a person. I went along with it, after all they were teaching me to survive. I should be grateful they're taking the time to do this. I shouldn't complain.

"Now this is where it ties into you, sort of. When I was eight, and you know this part of the story, my parents told me we were going to the Zoldyck mansion. I still remember this because I kept repeating it to myself over and over again on the way there. They said, 'The Zoldyck's claim to have a prodigy of their own. He's your age, supposedly ruthless and skilled. We're going to reveal your identity to a select few of their household, and test your skills against his.'