Chapter 7:

Music Suggestion: Unintended by Muse

They were a rather quiet pair, really. The tap tapping of the keyboard was answered by the turning of pages, and really, they were quite happy just doing that. Presently, Shalnark rose up from his seat and stretched, then called out to his roommate, "Shizuku, I'm going to bed now, I'll see you in the morning."

No response.

He frowned a little and walked over to where her dark head was bent over the book in her lap. "Hey, Shizuku, you'll get a crick in your neck if you...Ah."

He smiled as he knelt in front of her, taking off her glasses gently. Her soft, rhythmic breathing told him what he wanted to know, and he shook his head merrily.

Carefully, he slid his arms under her knees and shoulders and lifted her from the chair, her book dropping to the floor as he did so. He cradled her to his chest as he brought her into the bedroom and placed her on one of the beds, putting her glasses on the nightstand between. Her eyes flickered half-open as he worked a pillow under her head, and for a moment she stared at him questioningly. "Is it morning already?"

He laughed lightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "It's just past one," he answered.

"Ah, sou desu ne. Where's my book?"

"In the other room. You, young lady, are getting to sleep now. No more reading for you."

She pouted a little. "Shalnark, you're so mean."

His eyes roved over her face as he sat there in silence. Tentatively, he reached out and stroked a stray couple of strands of black hair out of her face. She blinked up at him as he did so.

"Shalnark?"

"Mm?"

"That man in my dreams, he looks the same, but he reminds me of you."

"Am I really that monstrous?" he asked, smiling. She shook her head as she sat up.

"No, I mean, he's so gentle. You're so gentle. I..." she blushed a little, looking away, "I kind of like a gentle man."

"Ah, is that so?" he asked, still smiling. "Well, I hope I'll see you in your dreams, then, Shizuku." He got up, but looked back as he felt a warm pressure on his hand.

"Shalnark?"

"Yes?"

She did not release his hand. "You'll be there in the morning, right?"

"Yes." He bent over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I'll be here."

.

The blankets were soft. The air was warm, and it seemed that music was playing...somewhere?

Kurapika blinked open his eyes and lay there for a minute, staring at the wood of the ceiling and the painted paper fusuma. His body felt fresh and renewed, despite the lingering feeling of poison that always infiltrated his body after sleeping; he sat up and felt his leg. He was sure he had not healed it himself before he had fallen unconscious, but there was no wound, not even a scar, neither there or on his back.

He got up completely, noting the fresh yukata he was wearing, and shook his loose hair away from his face. His clothing was folded neatly on the floor next to his bed, and the katana that had appeared, like a miracle, placed on top.

He picked it up in wonder, turning it over in his hands as he inspected the handle. It was a top-notch weapon, from the Edo period of Japan, if he wasn't mistaken. He slid off the scabbard and ran his fingers carefully along the side of the blade. It was nothing like his tanto; no, this sort of weapon wouldn't crack even if it was struck again and again against hard metal or rock. It was in a class of its own.

As he slid it back into the scabbard, he heard the quiet sliding opening and shutting of a door and looked up as a slender young maiko in a full, beautiful pink and yellow furisode entered, a bunch of folded blankets in her arms.

"Ah, you're awake!" she said, cheerfully, putting the blankets down and standing there with her hands folded femininely in front of her. "Akatsuki-sama seemed very worried when she brought you in two days ago, and I have to admit, that isn't an emotion she wears often. My name is Setsuko, by the way."

"I'm...Kurapika...Two...days...?" Her brisk words seemed to sink in very slowly, and he brought a hand up to his head to massage his temples. "Have I really been...like that...for two days?"

"Yes! But you're feeling better now, right? I'm really surprised she healed you like that; she doesn't normally heal people unless she feels like it. Not to mention bringing you here the way she did."

"She carried me...all the way here? By herself?"

"Well, it's not like it's that hard, you know," replied Setsuko. "You're all of like 40 kg after all; you look like you were drawn by a manga artist."

"Manga artist?"

"You know, someone who draws manga, like Takeuchi Naoko, or Togashi...oh, forget it."

He only grunted in response, the annoyed thought coming to his mind that he was seriously tired of passing out and being treated like a maiden in distress. Speaking of "dis dress", he glanced down at the yukata he was wearing and was a little nauseated that it was patterned with small blue cornflowers. "You do realize that I'm male, yes?"

"Oh, yes, and I don't think that was lost on the maiko who changed your clothes, either."

Kurapika narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Exactly why do you sound so certain?"

"Easy," she chirped. "Only a man who was fully secure about his masculinity would wear his hair like that."

Maybe he should cut it, after all.

He was saved from such ungodly thoughts when Akatsuki herself slid open the fusuma door, kneeling on the floor as she did so. She was the perfect combination of gentle geisha that she was around other men, and daringly confrontational around him.

"Setsuko, that's enough, leave."

Setsuko gave one last sunny smile to Kurapika before she quickly and quietly took her leave. Akatsuki listened to the door close behind her and continued to stand there like that, neither moving, neither looking away. It was the game again, but this time Kurapika was less insistent on winning.

"Why?" He asked simply.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do that for me?"

"Do which for you?"

Crap, it's another game, Kurapika thought. He couldn't for the life of him ever pin down her personality; it was as elusive as sunrays in a shallow pond.

"Saving me. Throwing the katana, bringing me here, healing me...you're a nen healer, aren't you?"

"Only when I feel like it. But the only one I can't heal is myself," she said, approaching and sitting down on her knees next to the futon he was sitting on.

"That's what Setsuko said."

She clucked her tongue lightly in annoyance and changed the subject. "You still haven't told me anything about why you were fighting, in the first place...Kuruta."

He blinking startledly. "You've heard of the Kuruta clan?"

"Of course. Who do you think I am?"

He sighed as he got up and walked towards the paper walls facing what he could hear from the chirping of birds was the garden outside. He slid one side open, pensively, as old memories, which should already have been vindicated, drifted like seafoam on the restless waves of his mind.

He took in the scene of Japanese maples and stone lanterns silently for a minute before lowly answering, "Everything I have done for the last ten years has been focused on my revenge. All my power, all my motivation, is outsourced from it. Even though the ones responsible are dead now, it still haunts me."

She came to join him at the door and caught his gaze.

"And those men two days ago?"

"They were responsible for something else, a different death, unrelated."

"Who?"

He could not utter it, it was too close to his heart for uttering out loud. Instead, he leaned against the wooden support she was standing in front of. Moving forward, that was the only way to forget the past and retain who he'd become.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked huskily, eyes traveling over her face, her creamy painted skin, her full red lips.

"It has nothing to do with anything," she answered cryptically, and moved out onto the wooden patio outside.

He observed her back, her rigid form and delicate upturned chin against the grey haze of the sky.

"You really are like a trapped bird," he said, and was rewarded by her startled look as she turned around.

"Nani?"

"You, barred by convention, a carefully tailored pleasure object, an expensive, talented doll."

She stared at him for another minute before her stiff shoulders relaxed and she smiled quirkily at him. "Yes, that is what I am, and this is my backdrop." She gestured with a little laugh at the garden, at the spread of the house, even her own kimono. "Just a doll, and you are just a well-trained, powerful koma in some kami's twisted game of shogi."

"It is my game, and I am the one playing it."

"You're a piece, nonetheless."

He sighed as he wearily turned to walk back inside. She did not turn around as he closed the door behind him.

.

It wasn't often when he took off his gloves, but today Bolonolev found himself fingering the leather thoughtfully as he stared at the man in front of him. It wasn't that he was any sort of threat, just that Bolonolev was in a bit of a mood to do some actual damage today. Simple attacks like "Batte Cantabile" got boring after awhile, after all, and every musician needed to practice.

He made up his mind at last and slid the gloves off, flexing his fingers experimentally as he did.

"You're very lucky," he informed the thug.

Said thug stared stupidly at him. "What, that I've found such a puny opponent to fight tonight? Haha, yes, you're right, I'm lucky; even if you give up, I won't stop until I've crushed your bony body." He took a step forward, bulging muscles showing through the tanktop shirt he was wearing.

"No," said Bolonolev, stopping the other man short. "I mean, you're lucky that you'll be able to die so beautifully."

"What..."

Bolonolev gracefully floated his fingers through the air, wrist following in slow arches as he directed, composed, and performed at the same time. "Tonight I will give a concerto, and you will be the accompanying fireworks."

Like that, he went to work, the melodies weaving with only his hands, until bright light danced into being, beginning its hypnotizing dance of azure and gold and indigo. It formed mountain butterflies, tiny wildflowers, evanescent hummingbirds, until they surrounded his stupefied foe and enveloped him in refracting rainbow shards.

The last sound the man made was a strangled laugh as all of the molecules of his body succumbed to the explosion and burst out into sparkling chasers of darkness.

Bolonolev picked up a glove, considered it, then put off putting it back on. For a few minutes, he only ran his hands in rhythmic circles, for the first time since Phinks had died.

Phinks had liked listening to his music. Bolonolev remembered the Egyptian's expression, which softened from sarcastic smirks into peaceful smiles. Since his death, had he even played a note just for beauty's sake?

He sighed as he replaced the boxing gloves. Perhaps, if he had been born earlier, or later, in a time when Kuroro had not discovered him, in a family where he could just have been yet another greatly skilled dancer-musician, he would have lived for nothing but beauty, only making music for the enjoyment of others.

But that was the farthest thing from reality. He was a Spider, and he had left behind that sort of life in favor of beautiful destruction.

.

"You're leaving?"

Kurapika looked up as Setsuko, setting down a tray of tea, observed him, dressed in his mended outfit, taking one last glance at the garden adjacent to the room he had been staying in.

"Yes. Thank you for your hospitality."

The young maiko blushed a little, even under the makeup she wore, and fluttered her hands embarassedly. "No, no, not at all, it is my honor to have served you." She flashed him one of her happy smiles. "But Akatsuki-sama will be so disappointed to see you leave. Should I get her?"

"No," he answered. "There is no need to call her."

Evening fell, and reluctantly the waning moon, just a sliver now, heaved itself from the eastern horizon to hang in the sky, its last journey before it died and was reborn.

And still he waited on the crest of the hill. Stars passed in their slow journey overhead; Regulus of the Lion appeared and then dropped down hours later.

And still he waited.

Presently, he became aware of a presence behind him, but did not glance back. "You came."

"You waited."

He stood, then, and walked over to where she stood, illumined in her white garb. "You're leaving," she said, softly.

"Even the king must move from one square to another."

"And the doll must stay mounted against a painted backdrop."

"Not if someone picks her up and moves her." He closed his hands around her shoulders and drew her against him. "Come with me."

She felt the erratic beating of his heart, her head pressed against his chest, the layers of her kimono and obi still not shielding the strength in his slim form. She closed her cherry-wood colored eyes and moved her hands to enclose around his neck.

"I can't," she breathed.

"You can. Leave behind the life of the doll, come live the life of many adventures in many countries, come join me in my quest for justice in this world."

"Your vengeance will never be fulfilled," she murmured, reading between the lines. "It doesn't matter how many you kill, can't you understand? It's a neverending dance, restless, ceaseless. You will never be happy as long as you pursue it."

His body stiffened at her words. "What do you know." Tenno returned coldly as he pulled away from her and stood, not touching her. She did not restrain him, but the wall behind her eyes returned.

"In your lifetime, you can't know the volume that an immortal can," she mocked him.

"Didn't I already tell you? I am Tenno. I am above this world." His proud features gave glint of red as he glared down at her.

She smirked and turned away. "Sayonara, Tenno." His steps haltingly walked away from her, then less hesitantly, and he was gone.

Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remembered.

Author's Notes: I realize Kurapika isn't very likeable right now, but I've been trying to draw out the characteristics of the rest of the Spiders. Obviously, the Shalnark/Shizuku duo, but I always really liked Bolonolev (as musicians will) and wanted to show him actually enjoying his own music for once.

Argh, I'm really starting to regret destroying the Palace of Westminster; it was necessary for demonstration purposes, but a bunch of people don't like it. Hell, I don't like it either, what's the matter with you, Kurapika? lol