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Chapter Eight: Variable Acceleration
Cloud shadows drifted over the water, dimming the sunlight. The high cry of seagulls filled the air around Kurapika; she was still standing on the rooftop, where she had seen the Spider disappear. A cold, salty breeze ruffled her bright hair, and she tasted the lightning-charged edge of an approaching storm.
She pulled out her cellphone, and switched it back on; one new message waited for her.
"We're waiting for you in the D-Road garden! From: Gon and Killua."
Her face was still too frozen to smile, but some of the burned out feeling left her. Chilled fingers tapped at the keys without actually depressing any as she thought. One call to make before she could join them. She flipped into her contacts list. The phone barely rang once before its owner picked up.
"Hello?"
"Senri."
"Kurapika!" the older woman sounded both anxious and relieved. "Are you alright? We had some trouble―"
"I'm alright."
There was a pause.
"You know I can hear it when you lie," Senri said quietly.
Kurapika smiled at that, a bit humorlessly. "Perhaps I should say, I think that I will be alright."
"Good." She could practically hear the other's brisk nod. "That's not as far from the truth."
"I―"
"No, don't force yourself to tell me either," Senri cut her off. "I can guess."
You really have no idea, Kurapika thought with a flicker of loneliness.
"We lost Daltzorne last night," the other added quietly. "When you didn't report afterwards, we thought you might be dead too. If you come back in, Nostrad probably―"
"Not yet."
"It's understandable that you aren't ready to face it," Senri assured her. "Call me again when you reach the hotel."
"I called to thank you."
There was a short pause.
"You're welcome. And, Kurapika?"
"Yes?"
"Get some rest."
The music hunter hung up before Kurapika could come up with an answer that would satisfy her.
She hopped down from the roof to a back alley, stiffened muscles protesting even as she landed a bit heavily on her feet. Twenty-four hours without sleep had not improved her coordination or awareness. I need to find a safe place to recover. Or rather … a relatively safe place, since nowhere is truly secure. But with half the Spiders dead, she felt relieved enough to walk the city without scrutinizing every shadow.
Half the Ryodan is dead, its head cut off – what will Hisoka do now that his target has been killed? She could not come up with a satisfactory answer to that one, but she was too tired to chase the thought to a rational conclusion anyway.
"The answers you want died with Dancho."
Kurapika did not look over her shoulder. No one waited there now.
Shaking it off, she set off for the garden that Gon and Killua had named as their meeting point. It was a famous tourist attraction, easy to locate even in the midst of the city; probably why they had chosen it, since she could make her way there without resorting to a map or the dowsing chain. She looked forward to seeing them and talking in person for the first time in months.
They waited for her by the southern entrance of the park, underneath the coppery branches of a eucalyptus tree. Gon and Killua were scarfing down an enormous pile of snacks in as messy a fashion as possible. Behind them, she could see the top of Leorio's dark head above a newspaper where he sat reading on a bench. A few daring pigeons were pecking at the dirt near his feet.
Some of the tightness in her chest loosened at the peaceful, familiar scene. Her steps slowed, unwilling to disturb it just yet. But then Gon spotted her and jumped up, spraying Killua with bits of food.
"Fuh-ah-pihka!" the boy shouted, through an overly full mouth.
He rushed up to her, shedding crumbs of what appeared to be an extremely unbalanced meal. By the time he reached her, however, he had finished chewing and lost the smile. Looking down into his serious face, she realized that she had no idea what to say.
"Gon."
"Finally!" he burst out before she found any other words. "Aren't you glad?"
Glad?
"The Spiders are all dead! You can finally do what you wanted to do!" His irrepressible grin returned, blinding as sunrise. "Concentrate on finding the eyes of your brothers in blood!"
But they were—
"We're going to help – mphff!" Gon's eager promise was cut off abruptly by the custard that Killua shoved into it.
Apparently, he had taken exception to be covered in crumbs of the other boy's food. Gon didn't seem to enjoy the experience either, though, because he turned and began to wrestle his friend to the ground. Watching them play, a reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. She looked up to exchange a glance with Leorio, knowing they both shared the same thought: idiots.
The tension in her heart finally eased to a point where she could breathe again.
My hunt for the Spiders is over. Strangely, that thought no longer rang as hollow as it had before. I still have a purpose to fulfill. Nothing was lost, because there was nothing here for me in the first place.
And, on a bench in a public park, with Gon and Killua bickering in the background and Leorio reading the paper beside her, she was finally able to close her eyes in rest.
Leorio knew that he was being foolish, but he just couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face.
"It's going to rain soon. And it's past lunch time." Gon said, his hair sticky with dirt and sugar from the impromptu food fight. "Shouldn't we wake her up?"
"No, let her sleep," Leorio said, laying a protective hand on Kurapika's golden head.
Killua, the smug brat, gave him a knowing look.
So he might have a silly smile at the moment. He might be enjoying the fact that the normally reserved and self-sufficient Kurata had unbent enough to sleep with her head on his shoulder. He might even have what could be called a mild thing for her. There wasn't anything wrong with that, was there? Surely not. She was attractive, and he was attracted to her. Perfectly natural.
Just because he knew better than to say anything yet, didn't mean that he couldn't be happy that in some small way she relied on him. Even if only in her sleep.
And beyond that, she was tired and troubled; he could diagnose fatigue as well as the next doctor-in-training. Though he couldn't fight her personal demons for her, he could at least make sure that she got a little rest. Especially if it meant that he got to enjoy the warm weight of her head on his shoulder and the feeling of her resting at his side.
Although Killua's smirk was an aggravating nuisance. Hah. Just wait until the brat found some girl that he liked, and then he wouldn't be nearly so superior. Fortunately for their sanity, that day was probably a long ways off.
Let's stay this way. Leorio settled back to re-read the paper for yet another time. Just a little longer.
Kuroro rested his chin in his hands, expression neutral.
The Spiders sat and sprawled across the gathered treasures around him – but he could sense the tension gathering like the storm outside. Even though it had been headed off, Nobunaga's lapse of insubordination threatened to spread.
This is one of those times, he reflected inwardly, that a lesser man would be sucked into a pointless struggle for control. However, allowing himself to be challenged on an ordinary level meant admitting that he felt compelled to respond to such a challenge. It would show weakness. Kuroro had arguments much more convincing than mere force.
We've already sent Ubo off in style. Let's not get dragged into a self-destructive cycle of petty revenge. Since it ends with us dead.
He rubbed at his mouth. That had been his first conclusion: strike the last auction early, take everything and vanish back into the shadows. They would leave before the next week began and his prediction came true … Unfortunately, that is no longer a viable solution.
Kuroro had always found that a certain level of urgency and danger sharpened his mind. It was no exception now. The only solution to their predicament had come clear: before the end of the day, before more doubts threatened their coordination, the enemy must be eliminated. Especially since Nobunaga and Shizuku had both turned up predictions quite similar to his own.
For Nobunaga:
"Part of the precious paper will be lost.
January, new and worrying, goes and continues going
to the reunion of those who have no place to return to
and those who desire it all
on the ground of red eyes stained with blood.
'Which of us has suffered more?'
the tombstones will read under the eclipse.
Pages of all the years past will be torn from the calendar
when the moth catching fire on its wings
will burn the spider in its web."
And Shizuku: August falls peaceful, together with the leaves at the reunion … 'Solitude is more frightening than darkness' the tombstones will read under the eclipse.
The same ending for all of them. Kuroro knew with certainty that they were on the near edge of disaster. However, acting shaken or weak would further diminish their confidence. And the entire Ryodan needed to move as a cohesive unit in face of this threat. Suspicions and betrayal threatened not only the efficiency of the group, but its chances of survival as well.
Kuroro glanced over at Hisoka, who had settled back into his previous seat, putting away his cards in favor of balancing his cellphone on one finger. Whatever he knows, we can't access the information from that angle … The revelation of Hisoka's dilemma was not only a tactical disadvantage, it was also a huge blow to group morale.
Originally, he had been content to slip away: the Spider disappearing into the night and avoiding the threat … forsaking personal vengeance on Ubo's killer in favor of the group's survival. But Hisoka's prediction proved that their nemesis would not be content to let things rest at that — an avenger himself, he would chase them all the way to Shooting Star.
"The pilgrim with red eyes will visit you,
half angel, half god of death
as you lay the path to a different altar.
You will pave the way with secrets of the moons,
to the sorrow of November.
The legs of the Spider will grow homesick,
but the fiery moth flutters after wherever they run.
Pages of all the years past will be torn from the calendar:
your part of the precious paper will also be lost
at the reunion under the eclipse."
The chain-user, whoever he was, had killed one Spider and captured another – twisting the magician into a weapon against his own compatriots. Kuroro's eyes narrowed, the faintest sign of his growing determination. We need to settle this here, in York Shin.
"I'm going to predict the future for each of you," he decided. "We might find ways to avoid the threat."
"Aside from the tombstones and the spider, I don't get any of this," Nobunaga muttered.
"The month names correspond to our numbers in the Ryodan. I'm August, the eighth; and January is Nobunaga," Shizuku said promptly, as though it should have been obvious. "The calendar and the eclipse refer to our deaths, and the epitaphs probably hold personal meanings. As thieves, we might also be 'those who desire it all' – but I don't know about this 'red eyes' person."
It's a riddle. Kuroro pulled his own prediction out of his pocket and read it once again. The format of mine is different. Because something has changed since last night? But Hisoka's was different as well.
Right now, it is important to take decisive action.
Touchy as some of the Ryodan could be, open and deadly violence rarely entered into their quarrels. However, thanks to the chain-user hijacking Hisoka's knowledge and compromising his abilities, the entire brigade threatened to collapse in chaos. Not that they would … but for the first time, Kuroro recognized that they could — not just theoretically, but in the real and present situation. It was an unpleasant realization.
As unpleasant as the moments when he had confronted the very real possibility that one of their number had sold them out.
Kuroro drummed on his skill-book with impatient fingers, thinking.
"Dancho," Shalnark stood before him. "Do we stay, or go?"
No one should be able to compromise the integrity of the Spider. He refused to see his Ryodan fall apart due to the manipulations of an unseen enemy.
"We stay."
Evening rain pounded on the roof of the public auction house, streaking the skylights with glimmers of grey and silver. Kurapika resisted the urge to walk outside and let it drench her to the skin. The gesture had a good symbolism to it, but she really couldn't afford to make herself sick. Not with Leorio and Gon both watching her with such worried frowns, at any rate.
It's strange to know that someone else is concerned for my health.
"So, your quest for vengeance is over, then?" Leorio broke into her thoughts as the four of them strolled through the booths. "All the Spiders are dead."
"Actually," she said, knowing that prevarication on this point would prove futile, "Only six of the Ryodan were found dead last night."
"Ah! I knew that!" Gon chipped in happily.
"I figured," Kurapika muttered; only Killua seemed to hear her.
"What?" Leorio, it seemed, had not.
"With the death of their leader, I believe they won't prove a further threat."
She could think and talk about it calmly now.
"It's still dangerous for you, right?" Killua interrupted. "You're the chain-user they wanted to find."
"Yes," she admitted and, because it was true that they were already more involved than she wanted them, added, "I'm in contact with Hisoka, and he knows who I am. His goal was to fight their boss, but now that his target is dead … I have no idea in what direction he'll go."
Perhaps because he had terrorized them all so thoroughly during the Hunter exam, they accorded the clown's probable actions a special silence of horrified speculation.
"He's not likely to attack us," she reassured them. "At least, not any more than he was before."
"Hm, you're radiating something," Leorio said, peering into her face. "Self-assurance, maybe?"
"Oh?" She wasn't quite sure what he meant, but that had always been true; sometimes it was impossible to tell what the man really thought. "I don't feel that you've changed that much, though."
"Can't you see that I'm more upset than before?" Half-laughing, he put on a mock-frown. Then he sobered, staring into her face. "Hey, should you be wandering around without your contacts?"
A cold blade of alarm scraped down her spine.
"What?" She raised a reflexive hand to cover one eye. "I'm not wearing them?"
Leorio stepped in front of her, shielding her face from the sight of people passing by.
"No," he said tightly. "But your eyes have been brown all afternoon – until just now."
Peripherally, she sensed Gon and Killua both kicking into a higher degree of alertness as they picked up on her tension. Calm down. She dropped her hands to her sides, taking comfort in the ever-present chains wound around one where could she have left her contacts?
"The bathroom," she realized aloud. "I took them off after the auction last night and never put them back in."
"Do you have another pair?" Killua asked.
"Yes," she remembered with relief. "They're back at the motel." Taking stock of their worried expressions, she added, "It's unlikely that anyone will identify me by my natural eye-color."
But I need to get back in disguise. Soon. There were far too many body-collectors in York Shin.
"Don't worry about it," she added, uneasy with their obvious concern. "It's not too far away. I can be there and back in thirty minutes."
By tacit agreement, they turned their steps towards the nearest door.
"Could anyone have seen you?" Killua frowned at her, obviously disapproving of her lapse of caution.
Kurapika shook her head. "You were the first people I met with after last night."
Was there anyone else…? She couldn't remember. Much of the previous night was a rush of light and sound and color – but she knew that she had instinctively avoided people. And no one could have seen her up on the roof where she had spent most of the time. Alone with the ghosts of the past. If the dead Spider was able to let go of his regrets, surely she could do the same. Another painful thing I would rather forget. Bitterness flashed through her, because she could not forgive.
Kurapika exerted conscious effort to keep her eyes brown, and nodded reassuringly at Gon and Leorio, who still looked upset.
The Ryodan is paralyzed, the mafia in chaos, so I should be safe.
"Besides that, I heard that you defeated one of the Genei Ryodan," Killua turned the subject with an uncanny echo of her own thoughts and flashed his charming, killer's smile at her. "Even though you only just learned about nen, you took him out. How?"
"If the only reason you're asking me is because you want to capture the rest of the Spiders, I won't answer. What I say won't help."
In her memory, her teacher's voice echoed: "I respect what you are trying to accomplish, but you must know it's impossible." Her stomach twisted with remembered pain.
"We want to increase our nen," Gon told her boldly, dragging her back to the present. "Of course, we want to capture the rest of the Ryodan too. But I think right now mastering nen is the top priority."
"That's what I thought. Forget it."
"But why?" Killua protested.
"Nen is a force very influenced by the psyche," explained Kurapika, hoping to lose them in a theoretical discussion. "The weight of the user's determination increases his power. Your own will is the most important factor in any battle."
"Will power … like fighting spirit?" asked Gon.
"Correct," Kurapika nodded, raising the chains around her hand. "That spirit determines your power, and the form of your abilities. The more you know about yourself, the better you can control and shape your nen."
She frowned, debating how much to say – it had to be enough to satisfy their curiosity, warn them about the dangers, and keep them from throwing themselves down the same path she traveled. They don't need to seek out my kind of power.
"High quality abilities contain a high risk: conditions to obey and prices that are owed. These things no one else can determine for you," Kurapika met their eyes seriously. "No one else can choose in your place. But if you misuse your nen, it can rebound on you or others — Consequences that can last even after death."
For a second she hesitated … then plunged ahead.
"Some cases that people attribute to ghosts or spiritual phenomena are actually the product of a dead person's nen."
Sometimes, more than just nen lingers— she cut the thought short.
"Really?"
"Yes," she answered Gon. "Such occurrences, while rare, are known as 'death-curses' because the ideal focus for the lingering power is another source of nen … with strong emotional or spiritual links to the dead man. Regret, born of hatred or despair or some unfinished task. Of course, the strongest forms of regret often result in a 'curse' on whatever was responsible for those feelings. "
Very few humans had the power and the motivation – perhaps the innate aptitude or nature – necessary to generate a killing curse, though.
"Interesting," interjected Killua, in a voice that said he was bored. "But what about us? You can help us learn to use our own power more effectively."
"My own abilities share—"
In her pocket, the cellphone chirped at her.
"Excuse me a second."
"Kurapika?" Unexpectedly, it was Senri who had called her. "Sorry to bother you, but Mr. Nostrad wants to talk to you."
"When?"
"Now. He insisted that it was urgent. From what he said and the sound in his heart, I believe it."
Is that all? It seemed so trivial – but she would have to deal with it. Take responsibility for getting involved with them.
"Kurapika?" Senri asked, recalling her to the present. "I take it you've heard the other news then."
"Heard what?" She dragged her reluctant mind away from grey thoughts. "If there's been any big changes, I've been … occupied."
"The mafia canceled the rewards on the rest of the thieves."
"What?"
"They autopsied the bodies from last night and found out that they were the Ryodan – and from Shooting Star City. Nobody, not even the godfathers, wants to mess with them anymore."
Not that it matters now that they've been scattered. But that was another dark thought, the kind that she didn't really want to have. She had never relied on the mafia to do anything effective against the Spider anyway.
"I see."
"Kurapika—"
"I know. I'll meet you at Neon's hotel, then."
She hung up without waiting for an answer, and watched people splashing through the rain outside.
"What was that about?" Leorio demanded as she flipped the phone back into her pocket.
"Business," she said shortly. "I'm technically allied with the Nostrad mafia family."
For the moment.
"You work undercover in the mafia?" Gon asked. "Cool!"
"It's more of a pain than anything else." But she was able to smile for him. "Hopefully it won't take long to sort out. I'll pick up my contacts and call when I can."
"We'll stay in the area," Leorio promised, squeezing her shoulder before letting go.
Killua frowned, "And you're definitely going to finish telling us about nen."
"Hm," she replied, noncommittally.
"See you!" Gon called as she ventured out into the rain.
Briefly, she waved. They stood on the other side of the glass doors, but even through the barrier she could see that their smiles were strained. They're worried. About me? I can take care of myself. And I can certainly deal with the Nostrads. She glanced back one more time, but the pouring rain had erased their faces.
There's definitely not enough money in this. Machi worried at a loose thread, adjusting and readjusting her gloves.
She had always known that Hisoka was trouble. And not just because he likes to irritate me with his sick attentions. It didn't take a fortune-teller to see that the clown had been and would always be a threat. But she also knew, with disappointed certainty, that the chief would never allow her or Nobu to kill the magician without absolutely solid evidence against him; even then, he would want to finish things himself.
Shit. My feelings about him get worse all the time. Uneasy, Machi listened quietly as he worked to piece together the odds and ends of information that they had to work with.
"Given that Ubo first met the person we are assuming killed him, the chain-user, right on the outside of our territory, we should assume that our base may already be compromised," commented Kuroro. He lapsed back into thought, but he had already reminded Machi of something important.
"May I say something?" At his nod, she continued. "We must not forget that those kids also know of this place. It's true that in principle they have no connection with the one we're searching for, but I still don't like it."
"Kids?" Kuroro asked blankly.
"I forgot about that, Dancho!" Nobunaga jumped in enthusiastically, pulling the discussion off course. "I highly recommend them for the Ryodan!"
How can he be thinking about that in this situation?
"That's not why I brought it up!" Machi snapped, trying to keep the idiot from going on a complete tangent.
"A pair of boys tailed me and Machi yesterday," the swordsman continued obliviously. "Really impressive zetsu for their age!"
"They were hunting us for the reward money," Machi reminded him. "And they refused when you asked them. And besides that—"
"They escaped, too!" he rushed on, sounding proud of the fact that a couple of twelve-year-olds had given him the slip. "The black-haired one was just like Ubo! And the other one had some nice skills as well!"
Machi crossed her arms and glared. He had exactly three more seconds to shut up before she started to stitch his mouth closed. Kuroro caught her expression and nodded.
"It's true that they seem interesting, but it sounds like they don't want to join the Ryodan," he cut into Nobunaga's rhapsody.
"I'll convince them! And I can bring them here if you want to see."
And she could see in the chief's face that he was actually considering Nobunaga's insanity. Alarm bells rang in her head. It's way too dangerous!
"Dancho! We shouldn't do that!"
He looked back at her, inquiring, "What do you dislike about it?"
She faltered, unable to explain the source of her conviction that allowing those children free-run of their base would be wrong.
"Er … I don't really know."
"Intuition?"
She nodded, relieved that she didn't have to say that all she had to go on was a bad feeling.
"I know we can rely on it," Kuroro said with heart-warming faith in her instincts. "It's not impossible that these kids are important. Any team that encounters them should act in whatever way they deem necessary under the circumstances." He frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Still, just to be safe, we'll increase the number of copies of this building. Coltopi, can you make another ten?"
"I can do another fifty, no problem," the midget replied instantly.
The chief nodded and sent him out, with Nobunaga as a guard. Maybe the rain will cool his moronic head, Machi hoped. But she knew that it wouldn't. The swordsman was far too willing to rush off in every direction, chasing his own enthusiasm. He and Ubo had worked well together, she believed, because the combined weight of their own stupidity was just too great for them to ignore if they wanted to survive.
And then Ubo had gone out alone – and he obviously wasn't coming back.
She followed Franklin and accepted her slip of paper back from Kuroro after he had written her future on it. Next in line, she could hear Pakunoda's report of her own personal data.
"What's it say?" Shal asked Machi.
The shrill ringing of Pakunoda's cellphone interrupted before the other Spider could begin. She grimaced, waving an apology as she took her prediction from Kuroro and moved away to answer the phone. Machi stepped out of the woman's path and turned back to the main action.
"What does your prediction say, Dancho?" Franklin asked.
"More of the same, but one passage is different." He read the last three lines to them, "'If you would not be cast down as the stars thrown away by heaven, seek the thrice-cursed secrets entombed in the ground of red eyes stained with blood.' It sounds as though there's a way out, but the newer predictions seem to indicate that it's disappearing."
"Do you think—" Shalnark started, but his question was cut off by Pakunoda.
"Dancho."
She had rejoined the half-circle.
"What is it?"
"That was Zenji," she said, her frown thoughtful.
"What did he want?"
"To offer me his condolences on your death and … a job."
Phinks made a suggestive noise. Pig. If Machi had been in range, she'd have hurt him. But she settled for a glare.
"Not that kind of job!" Pakunoda snapped. "For him to contact me after last night means that either he wants something badly enough to ignore what just happened, or he's planning a trap."
"Read your prediction first–" Kuroro decided, "–and we'll see what it says."
Machi watched as the other woman read her future, and the page rustled in her suddenly clenched hands.
"Paku?" Phinks asked, flicking a pebble at her. "Oi, Paku!"
Wordless, she handed it back to Kuroro for him to read aloud.
Kuroro raised an eyebrow at Pakunoda's unexpected silence, but he read the prediction without comment.
"In one small room you will hold two choices,
balancing a blade with death on either side.
If you would choose life, you must accept everything:
'Let not one thing be lost' the mournful will pray
in remembrance of those forgotten.
Secrets and the division of memories
will betray you to friend and enemy alike.
An empty throne waits to be filled,
but you will hunt those who hunt the gods
across ocean and field.
To unbury the bones below the ground
of the red eyes stained with regret,
you must be prepared to race starvation's shadow
through the labyrinth of devouring
as the feasts of the harvest commence."
A faint, cold smile tugged his lips. Got you. Three verses, for the three remaining weeks of the month, and no hint of the disastrous ending that threatened the others.
"Did the format just change?" wondered Shizuku, never afraid to ask the obvious. "What changed it?"
"Zenji's call," Kuroro said decisively. "The phone rang right before I started writing."
Pakunoda, surprisingly, looked away from him – her expression hidden behind pale, colorless hair. Kuroro wondered at the reaction, but chalked it up to dislike of Zenji. Too bad, there's no getting out of dealing with him again. With the answer in reach, his usual confidence and humor were returning – along with satisfaction at the thought of catching up to Ubo's killer. Soon, the chain-user would be out of their way for good.
"Feitan," commanded Kuroro, setting his sights on the nearest of the three remaining unknowns. "We'll tell your fortune next."
"I don't know my birthday," Feitan replied, hands in his pockets and face obscured by the scarf.
Coltopi nodded, "Me neither."
"And I don't know what my blood type is," Phinks put in.
Kuroro glared at that last one. "Excuse me?"
That's just careless. A faint smile quirked his mouth, even though they would not be able to check if the changes to Paku's fortune applied to the rest as well. Despite it all, Neon's predictions existed to help people escape the darkness looming in their futures. Even without the advantage of knowing everything he was more than confident that the situation could be turned to their advantage. We've been fighting the odds since day one, after all.
A spatter of rain from the broken skylights above gusted over him. The Spider curled his fingers into the warmth of the white fur lining his cuffs. Try as they might, neither the chain-user nor the weather would drive the Genei Ryodan out of York Shin before they were ready to leave.
"Dancho," Coltopi spoke up, such a rare occurrence during a meeting that everyone stopped to listen. "I don't know if this is relevant, but I meant to tell you last night – there was a weird nen-surge from one of the copied items just after the auction."
"Nen surge?"
"Like someone was … trying to destroy it or something," the midget's single visible eye blinked, expressionless. "Just for a second, but it felt really bad."
"Why didn't you say something?" Shalnark demanded. "That could be important!"
Coltopi shrugged, a rustling shift underneath his long hair. "It disappeared so quickly, I thought I might be imagining it."
Kuroro raised an eyebrow. "Which item?"
Coltopi thought it over, taking his time.
"The last one," he said finally. "The Scarlet Eyes."
Interesting. Kuroro glanced over the crates – though he couldn't tell which was the one they wanted. A faint mist curled up from the ground, long white fingers reaching around the edges of the tumbled collection. Something – an idea or a half-forgotten memory – teased at him. But it slipped away, as nebulous as the mist, when he tried to examine it.
"Red eyes in the predictions … could be the Scarlet Eyes," Phinks said from where he leaned on top of the crates.
"Yesterday," Machi spoke up suddenly, addressing Nobunaga. "You said that you thought the chain-user wasn't working with the mafia because he wants revenge on us for something."
"The Kurata clan?" Feitan asked, attentive now that they had a potential target. "So there were survivors."
Shalnark had his cellphone out, tapping excitedly against his palm. "And the person who bought the copied pair from the auction was …"
"Zenji," Kuroro finished, miles ahead of them and well into formulating a plan. "Paku, I think you'd better take him up on that job."
The Spider nodded, looking unusually grim.
When he first noticed the sensation, Killua felt as edgy as a cat faced with a strange dog. But then he remembered that this was Kurapika he faced, and he calmed down enough to hope that he could learn from her. She gave off the same quiet, suppressed and lethal aura that Killua had picked up on in the Spiders. A similar impression emanated from his older brother Illumi.
He wanted to know whatever it was that they knew.
Then she had broken off her explanation of nen and abandoned them for her job. Leorio complained about it, but Killua understood; he had shouldered enough responsibilities in the line of family duty and work himself. Besides, he knew the real reason that Leorio was being so sensitive.
He shot another sidelong glance at his friend. Sure enough – he still wore that mooning expression he had whenever Kurapika ignored him for something more important. Killua snickered.
"Stop it," Leorio demanded, scowling. "Your face offends me."
"Eh?" Gon said, staring confused between them. "But that's how Killua always looks!"
After a brief tussle, just to prove that he wouldn't stand for that kind of disrespect, Killua got back to what was really important.
"Where are we with the auction money?" he asked. "What did Zepairu say?"
Leorio gave them a small salute. "We made three-hundred and fifty-five million on the chest!"
We're falling short.
He turned schemes over as they ate dinner. Even if the Kurata wanted to focus on finding the Eyes of her clan before chasing down the Spiders, she could probably be convinced to arrest them while they were so close. From there, it would be a simple matter of using Gon's earnest sincerity, and a little of Killua's own good sense, to get her to spill what she knew about the group.
Besides, the Spiders are a threat to her survival. Killua knew that nothing was more motivating than your own personal safety – and the safety of your friends.
He cuffed Gon absently on the back of the head, just because he could, though it was more a sign of affection than anything else.
I could get used to living like this.
Kuroro tapped his fingers against the his skill-book, trying to hold onto whatever it was that eluded his notice. Something's not right. He'd overlooked something, some vital clue to the chain-user's identity or actions … something that would explain the inconsistencies of the enemy's actions. Strong enough to defeat Ubo, smart enough to get away — So why the conspicuous absence last night? The entire Ryodan had run around in the open, splintered into small groups and practically lit up the sky with an invitation to fight.
"What are the epitaphs on the tombstones again?" he asked Shizuku and Nobunaga.
The swordsman looked down and read, "Which of us has suffered more?"
"Mine is: solitude is more frightening than darkness," Shizuku added.
"Do they mean anything particular to you?"
"Not really," Nobunaga crumpled the paper. "Damn."
"Paku had a similar line," Bonorolf offered. "Let not one thing be lost."
"Maybe it's how they'll feel about their deaths?" Shalnark suggested.
"I'm going to die in pain and Shizuku's going to die alone and Paku's going to die … er, lost?" Nobunaga snorted. "If we all get it during this eclipse thing, then at least Shizuku's doesn't work. And I'm sure Paku will come back here before next week."
"Next week starts tomorrow," Franklin pointed out.
"Technically," Shalnark corrected him, "it starts tonight at midnight. Which isn't too far away."
"What if it's how the killer feels about our deaths?" Shizuku asked. "We can't write our own epitaphs if we're dead."
No one knew quite what to do with that.
There were a lot of people who wanted the Spider eliminated, for various reasons, Kuroro reflected. He could understand the desire to honor the dead. Respect it, even. Not that it stopped him from killing.
"Revenge, huh," Franklin rumbled. "What a thing to throw so many years of your life away on."
"How the killer feels … we can't write our own epitaphs." Shizuku's words from moments before echoed back to Kuroro. And then Coltopi's voice joined hers. "Like someone was trying to destroy them."
His hand ceased its rhythm on the book cover.
At that, the entire pattern that had been eluding him sudden took shape in his mind. The whole structure of their enemy's movements rose up around him – crystallizing as he recognized details that had seemed insignificant and now took on a new meaning. He rubbed his chin in his hand, sitting down suddenly to think.
"Shizuku, Coltopi," he said absently, once he had a firm enough grasp on the big picture to speak again. "Congratulations."
Because of course a survivor who wanted revenge would also want to reclaim the eyes of his clan. That was the motivating factor he had failed to consider.
"I was stupid," he admitted aloud.
Damn — why? He had blithely assumed that the chain-user would be single-mindedly obsessed with finding the Ryodan to the exclusion of all else … How self-centered of me. A hard smile stole across his mouth.
"Why didn't he attack last night? If I had thought of it earlier, we could have tracked him down much more easily." He looked up and the smile turned to a grin. "The mafia's underground auction is famous for trafficking all sorts of illegal goods ― contraband, stolen antiquities, and parts of human bodies."
"Parts of – oh!" Shalnark was the first to catch on. "The Scarlet Eyes!"
"Yes. Our target has two objectives: getting revenge and getting the Eyes."
And now they knew which was more important.
"Shalnark, who besides Zenji bid on them? Anyone who seemed particularly eager?"
"Hm," Shalnark scratched his head. "There was a pretty intense bidding war between just two customers at the end, since they were the last piece and all and I remember …"
"What?" Machi snapped, impatient.
"Nope, I forget."
"What, are you Shizuku now?" Bonorolf grumbled.
Kuroro listened to the Spiders speculating in the background, filling in the gaps in the predictions that they brushed over. It was true that "red eyes stained with blood" appeared over and over again in the predictions … and from what he remembered, the Kurata had been a tough fight … so a survivor who had spent the last four years planning would probably have a good chance at taking out Ubo.
And the rest of the Ryodan, evidently.
"We need to move quickly," he concluded. "But never alone. We'll break into four teams; two teams will go hunting, two will stay here to see if the enemy comes to us."
He leapt to his feet on the stairs.
"Paku, Phinks, Feitan. Your group, as well as another team consisting of Coltopi, Bonorolf, and Machi, will track down Zenji. If he doesn't have the copied pair of eyes with him, go after them next. Nobu, Hisoka, and Franklin. You three will stay here with me and my team of Shalnark and Shizuku."
"I'd like to go hunting," Nobunaga said, with blockheaded stubbornness.
For a moment, Kuroro just studied him. But the expression on the other man's face was calmer now, and his request was no longer an unreasonable demand. Besides, one group is just as likely to find the chain-user as the other. They had gathered all the information they could from the predictions … without anything else, it would be difficult to put together an accurate picture of the enemy's likely movements.
"Dancho. Please."
"Alright," Kuroro agreed. "Switch places with Machi."
Can we all die at the same time if we're not in the same place? Kuroro shrugged off the thought. In just a few minutes, they could begin their hunt and eradicate the threat.
A taxi would have been faster, but Kurapika took the subway to the Nostrad's hotel in order to give herself some extra time to think.
On the subject of nen, Leorio would be easier to discourage than Gon and Killua; the two boys seemed dead set on chasing their own destruction. Isn't that what you're doing? a little voice in the back of her head whispered. She scuffed a foot along the rubber treads of the subway car. It's not the same. Gon and Killua were free and should enjoy that freedom. They don't need the kind of power I have. The chains clinked around her hand as she frowned at them.
Not the same at all.
By the time she reached the hotel, her tentative relief had washed away with the rain. She climbed the stairs and strode determinedly down the hall. Whatever was going on with the mafia, she knew herself to be capable of handling it. She raised her hand to knock.
"Please come in," Senri called through the door. "It's unlocked."
Kurapika turned the handle and crossed over the threshold.
"Mr. Nostrad left to pick his daughter up from the hospital," Senri explained, the door clicking shut as she spoke. "It appears that Miss Neon could not wait until after your meeting. They should return momentarily…"
But Kurapika was not listening. Her gaze had already been drawn to the far side of the room. The fake Eyes were standing on a table across from the door. Her reflection wavered, super-imposed over them, in the glass of their container. Dead and dust and false. For a bleak second, Kurapika could see and think and feel nothing but the vast, lonely emptiness of being the last, the only survivor—
"Zenji – I heard you had a run-in with him – left those here." Senritsu said, deliberately breaking into her thoughts.
Kurapika looked down to find the other woman's gaze solemn and serious on her face.
"He accused Nostrad of sending you to steal them." She frowned. "He got so intent on the subject that I believe he has followed Nostrad all the way to the hospital. I don't even think he realized he was leaving his treasure behind."
In one corner, a grandfather clock clicked through the seconds of a long silence.
"These Red Eyes," Senritsu said finally. "Why do they draw such a sound from your heart?"
Kurapika bit her lip, and tasted blood as she answered.
"I … am a member of the Kurata clan. Our eyes turn from brown to red when something excites our emotions. That color became one of the seven wonders of the world, and it remains after death. I'm searching for the eyes stolen from the bodies of my kin. So I can lay them to rest, no matter what it takes. That's why I turned down this job the first time. That's why I'm hunting the Genei Ryodan."
"And why you attempted to take these from Zenji."
"I succeeded," Kurapika's lips curled into a humorless smile. "And returned them. They're fakes."
Senri drew back a little, probably from the melody in her heart.
The Kurata sat down on one arm of a couch beside the door. "Are you going to report this to your body-collecting boss?"
"I don't want to be killed here." Unexpectedly, Senritsu chuckled and sat down on the couch beside her. "Heartbeats never lie. You might be confessing a secret, but you don't care what you have to do next to keep it."
"I would … prefer not to fight you." Kurapika offered, hesitant. "I owe you quite a lot."
Senritsu smiled. "One day, I might just call in that favor." Then she sobered, her expression turned contemplative. "So, I'm sitting next to one of the seven wonders of the world."
"There are more pairs of the Eyes left than you might think," replied Kurapika. "But I am the last Kurata living."
"Do you―" the melody-hunter stopped in the middle of her question.
What? Kurapika glanced over at her curiously.
"Sh!" She held up her hand to forestall Kurapika's question. "Quiet!"
The small woman slid off the couch, closing her eyes and putting hands up to cup her ears.
"Six nen-users just entered the lobby." She sounded afraid. "I can't detect their auras, but I can hear it in their hearts."
Too many to be the Ryodan, Kurapika concluded, with a flicker of disappointed hatred.
"Who do you think they are?" she asked, leaping lightly to her feet. "Are they here for Nostrad?"
"At least one woman," the melody-hunter continued to murmur to herself. "I can't hear what they're saying, but … they just split up. Three taking the stairs, three in the elevator." She crossed to her flute case and removed the instrument. "They're headed this way."
"Want to call in that favor?" Kurapika offered. "I'll fight beside you."
Although, a group of strong opponents with no connection to the Red Eyes will mean fighting with my weakest abilities. It could be dangerous. Her mouth curved into a half-smile. I won't stop for considerations like that if they threaten the life of one of my comrades. To her surprise, Senritsu had made the jump into that category sometime over the last few days.
It doesn't matter how ― I don't want to lose another friend.
