He couldn't change things. Not anything. All he could do was take the salt and poison life threw at him and aim it at someone else, grapple for the gold in the midst of muck and pebbles.

He couldn't save anyone. He had too much blood on his hands from one of his first memories, and he saw what happened to those who tried to protect. It was Paku who told him not to.

And Paku...

No one was listening. Any God up there couldn't bring themselves to care about a boy scavenging the streets, shivering and wishing for a coat to ward off the chill he couldn't seem to run away from.

Chrollo stood on the edge of the ship. Clutching the rail, he leaned out. Water stretched out below. His hair flapped. The wind was strong today, but now he had a coat like he always wished he had as a child, keeping him warm. He squinted against the sun.

Steal, or be stolen from.

Kill, or be killed.

There was no other way. He tightened his grip. To anyone who happened by, it would surely look as if he was about to jump. But Chrollo had confidence he wouldn't let go, and even if he slipped, he could use Bandit's Secret to transport himself elsewhere before he hit the glass waves.

When he learned nen, Chrollo knew. They could escape. And he could use it to stop the pimps running part of Meteor City without a risk.

They had pretty eyes. He heard the rumors when he arrived in Lukhso. He wanted them. They were valuable, and he could use the money to pay off the mafia. And he wanted to hold something beautiful in his palms.

He never even learned the tribe's name. Kurta.

He would never be anything, no one from Meteor City ever was, but he could hold something beautiful. He had legs. He had a legacy.

Isn't that fighting fate?

No!

The Kurtas didn't have a legacy anymore, except in Kurapika.

Something lashed itself around him. "Oh, come on!" Chrollo burst out. "I wasn't going to jump!"

The chains only tightened.

He let go. And dangled there, caught up in Chain Jail again. "What did I even do this time?"

He was yanked over the edge and deposited on the deck. Chrollo landed on his hands and knees. He glowered up at Kurapika. Though, thankfully, Chain Jail was now gone and he had access to his nen again. "Really?"

"I didn't want you to fall," Kurapika said, dropping onto a bench. "Also, it was just too tempting. You did say it wouldn't work a second time, and you were wrong." He smirked.

"You give Hisoka a run his money in terms of pettiness." Chrollo got to his feet.

"I suppose the three of us have that in common," Kurapika responded.

Chrollo hesitated, and then took a seat next to him. "Fair. What did you want to talk about?"

Kurapika's chains vanished from his hand. He glanced over at Chrollo. "Are you sure you weren't contemplating jumping?"

"I wasn't, but thanks for projecting yourself onto me yet again."

Kurapika scowled. "I have a goal. I won't die before then."

Chrollo said nothing. He'd seen too many like Kurapika.

No, he'd seen no one like Kurapika. Except, in some ways, Paku. But at least Paku gave her life for someone alive.

Was it worth it? The question filled him with a chill his coat couldn't warm away.

"There's a way off the ship," Kurapika said finally. "A foolproof one. But there's—a lot I need to tell you before then."

"And you're trusting me with this? Not gonna leave us to face the wrath of the Kakin princes, or do you think we aren't capable of holding our own?" Chrollo mocked.

"It's turning into a bloodbath down below, and you know it," Kurapika pointed out. "Listen." He told him about Hisoka's request, about Killua, Gon, and Alluka showing up—why hadn't Kalluto ever mentioned this Alluka?—and how Alluka could get them off the ship with her transportation abilities that were clearly far more advanced than Chrollo's, since he couldn't send people miles and miles.

"Wow," Chrollo said. He gripped his knees. "Hisoka's just looking out for himself."

"Maybe." Kurapika bit his lip. Blond strands fluttered against his cheek. "But there was something—that's an odd request for him to make. And they're here, so."

"I can tell Kalluto," Chrollo offered.

"No," said Kurapika. "I think Killua's already on it." He leaned his head back, staring up at the flawless sky. "I really was surprised they came. I didn't think they would trust me like that."

Chrollo waited.

"I don't think I've been a very good friend to them," said Kurapika finally. "And I'm still not—I don't know whether it was the right thing to do, to ask them to come. I would rather protect them. I don't want to lose any more friends." His voice snagged. "Is that a good friend? Isn't that enough?"

Who did I kill? Chrollo pressed his palms together, lacing his fingers.

"Do you know why I wasn't there? When you slaughtered everyone?"

No, but you're going to tell me.

"Pairo was—he saved my life when we were kids, dragged me back from the edge of a cliff that I almost fell—he wound up hurt. He couldn't walk right, see right—he helped me cheat to pass the exam to be allowed to leave—I wanted to leave, we wanted to leave—to explore the world before—and then I wanted to help him. I wanted to find treatment, so we could explore the world we read about in a book. An outsider needed help and even though we weren't supposed to, as kids, we helped her, and she left us with that book." Kurapika buried his face in his arms.

Chrollo's throat burned. There was nothing to be said. He killed Pairo, hadn't he?

"He had scarlet eyes," Kurapika added.

Chrollo lowered his face.

There was no point to regret. He learned that at any early age. Regret killed, and what was written, was written. You were only following the paths—but then—Shalnark—Kortopi—wasn't there any way they could have lived? Or had it always come down to Hisoka? To him?

No!

"I'm sorry."

The words he never said, not in years, flitted into the air. Fragile and flimsy, just words, sounds in a language men created because they wanted to have a way to justify themselves, to pretend they had any control.

He looked into Kurapika's eyes, red now in both pupil and the white parts, streaming. He couldn't mend it. But…

I wish I hadn't done it. "I'm sorry," Chrollo said again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Melody's words floated into his mind.

Kurapika gaped at him. Chrollo felt something wet on his cheek. Salty water. Not the ocean, but tears. He wiped them away. "You want them back," said Kurapika.

"I can't have them back."

"You don't want to lose anyone else."

Chrollo shook his head.

"I don't want to lose Gon and Killua. And Alluka's just a kid—"

"Trust them," eked out Chrollo.

"Hm?" Kurapika blinked. He sniffled.

"They trust you. So trust them. They want to be here just like the people I—my troupe—they want to do this. Protect them by trusting them." Chrollo gripped his skull. "Paku…"

Her decision wasn't wrong. It was right for her.

Right?

"I'm sorry," whispered Kurapika.

Chrollo shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

Kurapika glared at him.

"Maybe it does," Chrollo said. I want it too. But that doesn't mean it does.

"If you were to lose everyone, what would happen?" asked Kurapika.

Chrollo's stomach clenched. "I—" Wouldn't matter.

Nothing would matter. He might as well jump, then. But fate, but fate—he didn't want it to be so cruel to him.

It's hopeless.

"Come with us," said Kurapika. "When we leave this ship. I'll ask Oito. She'll agree and we know it. Take your troupe, and leave."

Leave Hisoka.

"He won't stop," said Chrollo. "Or will you leave the eyes?"

Kurapika managed a frail smile. "I guess we try our hardest to achieve our goals until the end, and then—"

"Then we leave." Chrollo swallowed. He couldn't force his troupe to go.

Maybe just this once, he could try. He met Kurapika's gaze. "Okay."

Kurapika held his hand out. Chrollo shook it. And then Kurapika stiffened.

Chrollo peered past him. Ahh, Tserriednich, the pervert. He was passing by.

"I hate him," Kurapika commented. "I hate seeing the strong prey on the weak."

"The world isn't kind to the weak," Chrollo agreed. "If there's one thing you learn in Meteor City, it's that." That's why you use Emperor Time, isn't it? You're smart enough to know you need it for your goals.

Are they worth it, though?

"It's wrong," said Kurapika, clenching his fists. "It's wrong."

"It's the way it is."

"It shouldn't be."

"Does it matter, if you can't change it?"

Kurapika glanced at him. "I want to find something to do. And I need to get into his cabin anyways."

Made sense. Chrollo studied his shoes. "If I had an idea of a way to get information about how to get into his cabin, and how to perhaps stop him, would you be game for it?"

Kurapika's eyes widened. "Do you have an idea?"

Chrollo plucked out his phone. "There are advantages to not dealing with life completely alone." He winked.

"I'm concerned," Kurapika remarked.

"Don't be." Chrollo pocketed his phone. "I'll let you know."

Kurapika swallowed. "Please tell me you're not going to—"

"Trust me."

"No."

Chrollo scowled, and then Kurapika laughed as if to say he'd just been teasing Chrollo, eyes closing and the sound free.

How beautiful. Something lurched inside him. Chrollo jumped to his feet. "Are you heading back to Oito's cabin?"

Kurapika nodded. They walked back together.

Oito greeted them with a smile. Woble reached for Kurapika, and he swung her through the air. Chrollo watched Phinks try to help Oito with her nen. Nobunaga had a haunted look on his face as he watched Kurapika and the baby play with blocks.

"When he acts like that, he almost reminds me of Shalnark," commented Nobunaga to Chrollo. "Carefree."

The three of them—Nobunaga, Shalnark, and Uvogin—had been scavenging together before they joined up with Chrollo. Chrollo had heard that Shalnark kept slinking behind Uvogin, taking the leftovers of whatever he was able to steal, until finally Nobunaga caught him when they set a trap for him with a shiny phone. He was a teenager at the time.

Chrollo sighed. He checked his phone.

You better pay me, came one message.

Poor Blinky, came the second one.

Chrollo smiled.

That evening, there was a knock on Oito's cabin door. Kurapika opened it and stiffened.

"I take it it was a success," Chrollo called.

"Your Majesty," Machi said to Oito, nodding as she and Shizuku entered. Blood stained Machi's white shirt, but she had a satisfied smirk on her face.

"What," asked Oito, her face white. "Did you do?"

"We took care of Tserriednich for the next week," answered Shizuku. "I highly doubt he'll be able to do anything, but don't worry, the damage isn't likely permanent."

"We may have threatened to come back and make it permanent if he ever attacks another girl on this ship again," Machi said, pushing pink strands back from her face. "I want my money now, Chrollo."

"You didn't—" Kurapika sounded horrified.

"Not hardly; do you think I'd let that shitstain touch me?" Machi scowled. Chrollo dug through his coat, pulling out a bag of coins. "He's just going to be in pain for… a while. And he certainly won't be capable of his favorite activity."

"Blinky took care of all the evidence," Shizuku added, holding her vacuum up with pride.

A wry smile spread across Oito's lips. Kurapika shook his head. Phinks cackled.

We'll be off this ship in a week, Chrollo promised himself.

"It's so strange," commented Oito. "My family growing up—I had so many siblings, and we never protected each other, much less random people. And then, of course, there's this family of royalty. But you all..."

Phinks beamed.

We're a Spider, not a family.

It wasn't true, and he knew it. He met Machi and Shizuku's eyes. "Thank you."

"Thank me by letting me kill Hisoka." Machi smirked and let herself out, Shizuku following.

Kurapika gestured to Chrollo. "Can we talk?"

Chrollo followed him out onto the deck. "If you're going to lecture me, I trust them to take care of themselves—"

"I wasn't going to, but whatever." Kurapika crossed his arms. In the dark, his eyes gleamed like slivers of moon. "If you spared me…" He clamped his mouth shut.

Are you talking to me about sparing Hisoka?

He won't spare us.

I never thought you would, either.

I understand you.

And I understand Hisoka. That's whythat's why I wanted to fight him.

And I didn't, at the same time. He is so very fascinating, but—Chrollo didn't want to pay the price anymore.

"Sorry," said Kurapika, slipping away and leaving Chrollo staring there, at the abyss of ocean.

I don't know what to do.


Killua sighed when Alluka and Gon insisted on coming with him. Not that he really minded, but he thought it was a good idea to recommend they stay with Leorio, but of course, neither of them planned to.

"Kalluto's our brother," said Alluka. "We should help him."

And Killua could only think that Kalluto had never been a brother to Alluka, had never even asked about her. He clung to their mother and spoke to no one else, and now he was joining the Phantom Troupe as if he wanted to antagonize every single member of his family. Even Mother wouldn't approve.

Still, Kalluto was his brother, and he had to find him, had to save him from whatever he'd gotten himself into.

The only interactions Killua really remembered with Kalluto were him being jealous of Alluka. He hoped Kalluto would have gotten over it by now, considering the hell that Alluka's life had been.

Leorio had explained to them the contest to kill Hisoka. Killua checked the information he had from Cheadle about the cabin Kalluto was staying in on the third tier. He paused in the hallway.

"I don't like how this place feels," Alluka whispered. "Onii-chan, it's—scary."

"Really?" asked Gon with a frown.

"We'll be okay." Killua couldn't agree more, though. The air was damp, and cold, and the only sounds he heard were bickering. There was nary a laugh to be heard. Leorio had warned about several serial killers on the loose, and that in addition to the Phantom Troupe, and Hisoka.

Killua gritted his teeth. Stupid Kalluto.

The door to the cabin Kalluto was staying in opened. Killua froze.

But Kalluto didn't emerge. Illumi did.

"Oh no," whispered Gon. Alluka clutched Killua's shoulder.

Killua pushed them back, behind the corner. He peered back around. Illumi wandered down the corridor, heading in the opposite direction. His shoulders were slumped, though, and his head lower instead of having his chin thrown high like normal.

"What happened to him?" asked Gon.

"No idea." And Killua was afraid to ask.

He wished he could ask. When he was younger, he might have been able to. Illumi looked sad somethings, when he had to train Killua, but only briefly. And now Killua was left with wondering whether or not he'd imagined any regret when Illumi trained him, or if he was only imagining it because he wanted the pain to stop.

But Illumi was also kind, sometimes, and would play with him—before he turned around and poisoned or whipped him. Though he clearly took no pleasure in it like Milluki. Not that Illumi ever took pleasure in anything. Killua didn't know if he'd ever seen his brother smile.

Then again, Dad did the same to Illumi. And Illumi yelled at Milluki for pushing Killua around.

"He's the heir!"

"He's your favorite!" Milluki had retorted. "You love him more than you love me!"

"Maybe ask him where Kalluto is?" Alluka suggested. "You don't have to tell him about me."

"Or me," Gon added. He looked worried about being dead weight. But he wasn't. Neither him nor Alluka were.

Because as worried as Killua was for them, he wanted them around him. They calmed him. They reminded him that he was more than just a Zoldyck, more than his family and what he had done, what had been done to him, and whatever had happened had good things too. They anchored him.

"No," said Killua. "It's okay. We'll find Kalluto on our own." He could not risk it. Illumi would probably accuse him of either not bringing Alluka aboard and therefore going against his promise to be responsible for her, or figure out that she was here and hunt her down for Nanika. And Killua would rather die than have that happen.

Illumi paused at the edge of the corridor. And then he vanished around the corner. Killua exhaled.

Screams erupted from behind them. Alluka jumped. Gon flinched. Killua stayed calm. It was part of his training. Count his heartbeat, use any adrenaline that surged.

"Another murder!" wailed a voice. A hysterical one joined in, screaming about a dead husband. Gon cringed.

Killua crept closer to the commotion. A market place. The scents of roasted meat and sweet fruits were overpowered by the stench of blood.

"At least we know Illumi has an alibi," Gon tried to joke.

"If you were doing your job better, you would keep people safe!" A man stood up, pointing his fingers at what looked like Kakin guards.

Get out. Killua could already tell where this was going. Alluka cocked her head. Gon took a step back.

"I can help," Alluka called.

"Alluka, no!" Killua grabbed her arm.

She spun to glare at him. "Killua!"

"No one can help!" screamed a hysterical voice, one of many shifting people in a crowed. "We're all going to be slaughtered! Maybe that was their plan! The Kakins! Maybe the ants weren't killed and they've taken over and we're all—"

Shame filled Gon's face. He lowered it.

"Shut up!" shrieked a voice, and then it started. The pushing, the shouting, the blood.

Get out.

This time, Killua was sure Bisky would not mind if he ran away. He grabbed Alluka under one arm and Gon under the other, using Godspeed to fly away from the riot. Up a stairwell, over a railing, into Tier 2. He set them down, gasping.

Alluka hit him in the chest. "What if Kalluto's there?" she shrieked. "Why did you stop me? We could—" Her eyes, blue like his own, filled with tears. "Those people—"

"You can't help people who don't want to be helped!" Killua snapped.

Gon clutched his knees. "Hisoka clearly wasn't exaggerating."

"No," came a voice behind them. "I clearly wasn't."