A short fic for HunterxPrompt : "New begginings, familiar faces, and a thirst for adventure; it looks like the gang is all back together."
It was inspired by an interview of Togashi who said Chrollo didn't want to be the Phantom Troupe leader at the first place, and some fans who headcanon Feitan as the oldest member.
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Chrollo had been the first person Feitan talked to about his project to found a gang. He was tired of little larcenies that barely allowed him to live a couple of days. He was dreaming of a large group, for big strikes, pile of money, days of laziness and quiet comfort.
Chrollo immediately had been very enthusiastic, and proposed names. Names Feitan didn't know. He was however sure he knew everyone in Meteor City who worthed it. Every fighter, every stealer, every person with a right aptitude to survival. But Chrollo had another vision. People they had proposed owned surprising hatsus. Chrollo had a fascination for others' hatsus. They spended a lot of time observing them. A fascination Feitan didn't get. Maybe it was because Chrollo seemed to be unable to develop one. They were already 16, and nobody ever came upon them using anything but their raw aura. At the same age, Feitan was already responsible for 14 major fires, including the famous one that destroyed most of the West city. Everybody knew it was him and everybody assumed he did it in purpose. The West was the most stinky side, few people lived in there, there hadn't been a lot of victims, and local folks just had to lean to eat plenty of cooked through rats. Feitan lived a strange moment of fame. He had received salutes and familiarities from strangers which fuller stomachs inclined to an unusual politeness. It was hard to scarf he was wearing to protect his nose from the smell rode up almost to his eyes. He tasted popularity, and spitted it out.
Feitan had never lose time wondering what he wanted in life. The answer was easy. Everything. He wanted everything he could reach that wasn't already his. After the West Side Fire, he learned that being at the center of attention was probably the only thing he would never want even if it was offered as a gift.
It was one of the reasons he liked Chrollo. The guy was so good at ignoring others. Feitan and them could spend hours in silence sat next to each other, Chrollo plunged into used books with missing pages, Feitan drawing on packing cartons with ink and charcoal he made himself. The day Chrollo gave him a handful of broken wax crayons, Feitan knew they would be his best friend. He drew their profile, leaned to their book. Chrollo didn't notice anything. Feitan never dared to show them his draw.
But he showed them the spider he had chosen as an emblem. Chrollo found it really cool. Feitan felt encouraged and explained his concept: eight legs, eight members, and a head to lead them all.
Chrollo mindlessly noded, their train of thought already running to another place. Feitan didn't interrupted them. He knew Chrollo was a clever strategist, and were probably thinking of a dozen ideas to improve the project.
Chrollo started to write the names at the back of the spider draw. Feitan could read kanji easily but didn't recognize any name, until two of them. Uvoguin and Nobunaga. Of course he knew them two. The whole city knew them. They were working hard for this. They were a bloody pair or noisy, showy scrappers. And they were drunk every two days. They were strong, of course, but Feitan really wondered if there were anything valuable to get out of them.
He was very surprised when they actually showed up at the first reunion. Two other didn't deigned, and there were only seven. Feitan didn't know anyone. He thought he had met once the massive guy with the strange scar, but he sure never had seen the two girls in his life. The tallest one looked weak, the kind of girl who had no idea she was pretty, and Feitan almost startled when she saluted him by his name. He grumbled "Do i know you?' and the girl smiled in embarrassment, with a shy grin, and muttered : "Ho, for sure you don't remember… Even if I haden't' triggered, a guy like you wouldn't remember a girl like me…" and Feitan regretted his rudeness even if he had no idea what she was talking about.
Feitan had asked Chrollo to talk about the project. They did it well. A group to leave Meteor and take to the outside world what rightfully belong to them. Taking them their wealth, their superfluous, their too-much they care so much about, they cherished like a baby, like a dog, what they called "their human dignity" and refused to them.
Feitan had a very vague idea of what the outside looked like. Chrollo already had left the city a couple of times, for short missions for the mafia, the kind of mission they weren't supposed to come back alive from, and they took from this experience a little acknowledgement of the world, and a lot of contempt for the mob.
The leader election had been easy. Nobunaga and Uvoguin applied, argued, fought, and finally both voted for Chrollo. Everybody did. Feitan had been relieved. The tall and future pretty girl looked at him as if she was considering a vote for him even if he didn't apply for. He didn't even feel guilty for Chrollo, whose irritation clouded their eyes for a second. Chrollo was very good with responsibilities. They just didn't like them.
But they handle them as if they had always been prepared for it. Feitan had given them a heads-up about the cars. They were waiting at the limits of Meteor City. The mob never entered. They knew where to stop. Four guys, in suits, sunglasses, smoking, or playing with their phone in annoyance. Four guys to guard four cars. Feitan grinded his teeths. Pathetic. The mob was really mistaken them for a bunch of docile and desperate puppies. But it was about to change. The Phantom Troupe was here now. Even if nobody but Fei knew they were named like this because he didn't dare yet admit he found it cool.
It was quick, and easy. Uvoguin and Nobunaga were pretty efficient, and the girl with pinky hair too. The men were killed, striped, the car stolen and driven to a remote town, to a contact Uvoguin vouched for. The cars were in good condition and they obtained a good price. They went to a restaurant, stuffed their faces as they could, drank, went to a hotel, devastated a room, the hotel employees called the cops, Uvoguin and Nobunaga went in custody, escaped, stole video games on the way, Feitan exploded everyone reccord on every games, Machi wanted a revenge on armwrestling and he defeated her again, he went to bed with a headache, woke up at 4pm, to find out that Chrollo used their own share of the booty to pay the damages even if they done nothing, they were out shopping with the girls, and Uvo and Nobunaga had disappeared with the video games. He was left behind alone. So he took a bus ticket to Meteor City, came home, came back to his usual places, and waited.
He waited long. Even Chrollo didn't show up. Ok. So it was it. The dream he was dreaming for years, the project that was supposed to change his own life and many other's ones, lasted two days. No problem. What did he expect anyway.
Only Chrollo disappearance was really troubling. They weren't so left apart for so much time.
And then Feitan understood. Chrollo had been designated as the leader. They were partner now. They could no longer be friends.
This day a massive fire devoured the place of the used books, paper, and packing cartons.
Feitan was found in the middle of the smoking remains. His aura was so dark and dense nobody dared to approach him. Good. He wasn't in the mood. A few kids were playing in the lukewarm ashes. You never knew what you could find after a fire. A little boy found a miraculously intact box. He ran to Feitan, looking so proud and happy. Fuck off, kiddo. I don't care about your bloody box, he thought while the boy stood before him, the brightest smile in his face, handing him the box. A spider was drawn in it.
Feitan grabbed it. Inside the box, a new sketch pad, a box of pastels, and a laconic message, with a date, a location and an hour.
He looked at the little boy, whose smile stretched as large as possible for a human being before the upper side of their head fall down.
"I found you" he muttered, almost without moving his lips. It was pretty creepy. "It was my first mission."
"What's your name?"
"Shalnark."
"Ok Shalnark, bring me back the inks."
The boy's smile became a perfect round without transition. Feitan was sure he heard a sound like a "plop". The kid brought out of his pocket two colored flasks and a pair of quilts.
"You're too strong for me."
The date was today's. Feitan wondered how many time the boy had looked for him. The fact that he didn't give up and sold the box was quite admirable.
And Feitan quickly understood why Chrollo had sent the boy on a long time mission. Far away from them. The boy just wouldn't shut up. You're a drawer? You'll draw my portrait? You'll do Chrollo's one? Who's the stronger between Chrollo and you? And Phinks? Do you know Phinks? Why don't you know Phinks? You'll armwrestle? Why not? You're afraid to lose? It's because you're skinny? Why are you skinny? Why you look at me this way? Why are you stopping? Why did you hit me?
Feitan and Shalnark were the last one to reach the meeting place. Feitan hide his smile under his scarf. Nine. They were nine finally. The whole gang was in.
He looked around. The bulky buddy might be Phinks. He weaved vaguely at the others, who looked far more happy to see than he expected. He didn't expect to feel that happy either.
They were excited. Uvoguin and Nobunaga had told their previous adventure to the two newcomers, with added episodes they probably had just invented. Phinks called bullshit as he was unwrapping the new suits they'd have to wear for their mission. Feitan smiled at their foolish things. Pakunoda was about to laugh out loud.
New beginnings, familiar faces, and a thirst for adventure. Feitan was feeling good. He approached Chrollo who was explaining the rules to Shalnark.
"It looks like the gang is all back together."
Chrollo took the shirt Phinks was handing to them. They undressed their own clothes. Feitan saw in their lower back the tatoo. The skin around was inflamed and still healing. It was new. And it was his spider. Their spider. No doubt about it. But it was different. Far many more legs.
Chrollo put the new shirt on and smiled to him.
"Not yet."