A/N: I nearly tagged this as a pairing but that would be misrepresenting this more than a bit, first and foremost this is a dual character study and a look into the dynamic. There is no real resolution, just a conversation. I showed my friend this and they said it was similar to interrogating god or the devil, and I hope that's how it feels to other readers too.
It took Kurapika more than half his life to run himself well and truly into the ground. More than twelve years after the death of his people he had finally allowed himself the time and space to reflect, to really consider who he was and what he was doing. For the past twelve years there had been one person he strove towards, one person he thought of constantly, and thirteen he wanted to put in the grave. He'd succeeded with a few of them. Now he wanted to know why this didn't help him find peace or rest or comfort, only more dirt piled up. He warmed his hands on the mug of coffee between them, squeezing it nearly to the ceramic's shatter point.
It wasn't that he had invited Chrollo to sit with him so much as he had not hidden his presence or avoided crossing paths. On the third day of sharing a city they convened at the café to sit across from eachother at a laughably small table too decorative to do more than act as a barrier. Kurapika looked up from his drink to take in the sight of his nemesis, his creator. Often times he felt as if whoever he was had only begun the day Chrollo had unleashed evil over his life, blotting out the sun like the erupting earth. It wasn't an inaccurate thought.
Chrollo watched him with equal intensity, though he seemed calm and unbothered as the first time they met. He stirred sugar into his coffee before bringing it to his lips to blow the steam away, the breeze snatching it to the left before it could reach Kurapika's face. He looked patient, knowing Kurapika had something to say and simply waiting for it to come out.
The sun came up above the lower buildings, throwing direct and very orange light in long, slanting threads across the café patio and making Kurapika flinch, tilting his head so his hair fell in the way. He spoke, "Why didn't you make my death a priority?"
"You mean the way you made ours yours?" Chrollo asked as he took his first sip from the cup. "Because it wasn't important. You killed a few of us, but Hisoka was more dangerous. You, unlike him, would run out of steam eventually." As if the wind was bewitched it changed direction so the steam off Chrollo's drink wafted back and lightly obscured his face. He smiled at Kurapika's noise of disgust.
"As cocky as ever. I've killed four of your members, four limbs, and you don't care? What about that stunt you pulled in Yorknew?" His brow was furrowed and he glared across the small table, shifting in his seat and displeased when his knees bumped the other's.
"You were simply outmatched. It isn't that I didn't notice or care, but that I knew those limbs would grow back, and that there was a much worse opponent seeing to it that the other legs were removed too quickly to be replaced." He set his drink down, dark eyes seeming indifferent to the light of the sun, remaining deep and matte and unknowable. "I doubt how much it will mean to you, but I do care about the dead."
"Your dead." Kurapika spat back, finding it increasingly difficult to remain civil and quiet. "Not the dead as a whole categorically, you only care for your God damned spiders."
Chrollo tilted his head in acquiescence. "Yes."
"Deceit is truly a disgusting practice, and yet it's so natural to you that you employ it even when trying to admit a truth." The mug in Kurapika's hand squeaked dangerously before he set it down to join Chrollo's on the table, allowing his hands to form fists on the surface either side of the mug. Chrollo smiled at him softly and it turned his blood to ice.
"You've employed it many times yourself, is mine so different?"
"Yes." Kurapika was sure he didn't like what Chrollo was getting at, it was insulting and made something in his core want to turn away. "Yours is to benefit yourself, mine is to-"
"Kill me?" Chrollo laughed softly and picked his drink up for another taste, and set his elbows on the table. "Which is to the benefit of you and your desires. You don't want me dead for anyone else's sake but yours."
"I want you dead because you're a monster." Kurapika waved his hand dismissively, as if to brush away the entire idea forming between them. It didn't stop what they both knew was to be said next.
"That's not the only thing you've learned from me."
Kurapika stared at Chrollo's forehead, the strange tattoo there that seemed more like the perfect bullseye. His gaze slid down to meet Chrollo's and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't."
"But I will. I'm curious, Kurapika, how aware of it are you?" Chrollo seemed vaguely delighted with his discomfort, watching him straighten in his seat and scowl. "You've called me cold before, and heartless and selfish. I'm a murderer and a thief, but what are you?"
"I am avenging the deaths of my people and taking back things that belonged to me in the first place, it is nothing like your greed." He knew what Chrollo was getting at, though. How far Kurapika had gone to match him, step for step, to kill his gang members and track him as well as finding and acquiring the eyes. Their motivations might be different, but the gulf in their actions shrank as time went on. "It's not the same."
"What is it, I wonder," He paused to take another drink from his cup, the coffee cooling enough that the steam had dwindled down to wisps. "That you want from me?"
Kurapika ground his teeth together and unclenched his hands to stretch the muscles, only to ball them right back up. "Remorse would be a nice start."
"I don't feel remorse. Or rather, I don't bother with it. While I didn't mean for you to grow up the way you did it doesn't make me wish I hadn't taken the Kurta clan apart, piece by piece." Chrollo did blink, but as a rate that seemed unnaturally lower than average, and in those few moments' absence Kurapika was beginning to feel increasingly pinned. The words themselves were callous and made his skin crawl, but they were not the main source of unpleasantness. "In fact, look at you, having grown up into a fine fighter and strategist. Why would I feel bad about being your catalyst?"
"You-" The very idea that Chrollo could be proud of him sent his mind reeling, disgust pushing against the back of his throat. "I am not your prodigy! I am not, I am not something you get to take any pride in, anything you get credit for, I built myself back up from the ground level you left me at-" realization sank in like lead and left him staring at Chrollo.
In turn, Chrollo set his nearly empty cup aside to lace his fingers together loosely. "You asked me why I didn't make your death a priority, and I believe this is the true answer. I don't want to destroy my own creation, especially not when that creation has proven to occasionally be craftier than me."
Kurapika closed his eyes and let his knuckles go white. Fighting the Troupe was ruining his life beyond repair, he was breaking his body and wasting his life to do this, and yet it was so difficult to stop and move on. It felt like a betrayal he'd never be able to accept in full, like cowardice. Chrollo interrupted his thoughts easily.
"Kurapika, look at me." His voice was sickeningly soft, understanding, almost kind. It made him angrier and that more than anything was why he glared up through his bangs. He saw the way Chrollo's expression smoothed out into a soft awe and knew his eyes must have lit up ruby red. Chrollo smiled at him. "You want me to understand you, to accept your truths and, in some way, validate you. That's why you talk to us, even knowing who we are."
"I don't need your approval, I need your repentance, or your remorse or you to get what you've given." Kurapika hissed and leaned in over the small table, it's cover cloth becoming bunched in his hands.
Chrollo leaned in as well, looking almost smug. "You need me, period." He had to move fast to grab the hand swinging at his face, his own hand wrapped around deceptively birdlike wrist bones. His grip was sure even as he let his thumb move up to where a few chains wrapped around Kurapika's palm, his eyes sliding to look at the thin metal links. They were a hard steel that shimmered gently in the rising morning sun and seemed more like condensed mist than any real metal. A conjurer, and a skilled one at that.
Kurapika yanked at the hold and bared his teeth when it wouldn't give. "Despicable liar, don't say such vile things."
"But it's true." Then, Chrollo's face lit up slightly. "I see. I suppose I've been rather neglectful to you, considering you seem to think I'm all you have left." He had to grab Kurapika's other hand and hold them both steady so they didn't knock the table to the ground. "I'm your creator not your keeper, you are never going to find the fulfillment you seek through killing me and mine. I think you know that, and smart as you are you simply don't care."
"I want to kill you." Kurapika pulled at his hands again but couldn't break free, and he held his tongue when Chrollo lowered their hands to the table to look as if this were some kind of date and not the meeting of two enemies. "I just want you dead, that's all there is, don't push your narcissism on me as if I give a fuck what you think."
That just made Chrollo go back to smiling, a dark simmering thing that fit better on a lizard that had bitten its prey and was waiting for infection to bring it down. "But then what will you do when I'm gone?"
Kurapika didn't have an answer, not immediately anyway. Not a good one. He hadn't spent much time planning for after, having accepted that this path would kill him either in the act or shortly after. He had dedicated his life to this cause and thrown his all into it, and now what? That's what he was trying to figure out and somehow this wasn't helping, or it was giving him answers he didn't want to consider. What if he succeeded in destroying the Troupe and he never felt better? Chrollo tightened his grip painfully but Kurapika didn't flinch, it would take more than even breaking his bones for that.
"You understand, I can see it on your face."
"I do, but you don't."
"You just said you don't care what I think." Chrollo's grasp loosened until Kurapika was able to retract his hands, grabbing his coffee to finish the last of it as Chrollo sat back, their knees bumping again. "You know Kurapika, you have one solid difference that sets you apart from me."
This was clearly bait, just something to annoy him further, but still Kurapika looked up from his empty mug. "I'm blonde and you're not?" His tone was acerbic, and Chrollo laughed softly and shook his head.
"I have friends I can and do depend on. Many of them are dead, but I keep in contact with those that aren't and I replace the fallen." He watched Kurapika intently as his meaning sank its claws in. "You, however, actively run from yours until you don't have any choice. You refuse to replace the dead with the living."
Kurapika looked back down at the few wet grounds at the bottom of the mug, feeling his anger twist into something else. It's absence felt hollow and the replacement emotion grew to fill the gaps, making him shut his eyes and grind his teeth. "They're too numerous to replace, and friends will only try to hold me back."
"From me?" Chrollo reached into his jacket to pull the ends of his shirt together, zipping it up to his throat as more people filled up the patio. Kurapika had his doubts it was for proprietary means.
"From death." His tone was deeper and softer than the norm, and he realized sadness had poured in to fill the empty places.
Chrollo nodded and stood up. "Don't continue chasing us, Kurapika. It would be very disappointing to have to murder you after all this progress. Get over it, get some friends, and stop getting in my way." He didn't stick around much longer, only enough to stand at the edge of the filling streets and watch as Kurapika payed the bill, and then he was gone.