Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Trial of a Guilty Man
Despite the constant babble, Kurapika can hear nothing save the drumming of his own heart in his ears. Leorio and Oito hold him by his elbows, a sure sign that they don't trust him to control himself – and they probably shouldn't. Right now, he's begrudgingly grateful to them.
Nobunaga and Franklin shove the clusters of odorous, grimy people out of their way so that the rest of the Spiders can pass.
Alcohol splashes onto Kurapika's tunic. He tries not to grimace when he sees the drunkard sneer at him, as if begging for a fight.
"Wonderful misfits, the lot of them," Leorio mutters in Kurapika's ear.
"Up ahead," Phinks says, directly behind Oito. He cradles Woble against his chest, safe from the crowds. "The courthouse."
Kurapika walks on on his tiptoes. He cranes his neck to see a crumbling building with sandstone pillars. It must have been majestic two hundred years ago; now, its beauty is forsaken. Its sole purpose is function.
A ramshackle stage further mars the side of the courthouse. Flies buzz around the lone post, which is crawling with dried blood. Kurapika's anxiety increases when he sees stocks and pillories to the side.
"That's the circus Hisoka used to work in." Shizuku distracts the Kurta by pointing to a rainbowed tent down a seedy side street. Its colors are a shock to Kurapika, who has only ever seen shades of faded tan since coming to Meteor City.
"And the mansion behind it is where he grew up," Nobunaga adds sarcastically.
The crickety house, built of pale wood, is at least three stories tall – two stories taller than most of Meteor City's buildings and three stories taller than the majority of residences, which are makeshift tents and shanties.
"I thought he was poor," Cheadle remarks.
"He was, but his mother wasn't. She became the concubine of one of Meteor City's myriad benefactors," says Machi.
"Mostly mafia members, no doubt?" Oito looks at the house with curiosity.
"Yes. No doubt she's no longer there, though. If she's alive, she's too old and probably down there." Phinks flushes slightly at he points to the sprawling, squat building beyond the circus.
"Huh?" Leorio frowns.
"A brothel." Kurapika says quietly. His heart stirs.
"The next street is Orphan Row." Phinks nods. "Some orphans live there, supplied by the mafia. Trained in servanthood or assassination if they're lucky. Others are trained to be sent back to…the pleasure houses."
Oito looks ill. "Children."
Nobunaga turns his eyes to sear Kurapika's. "Paku was one of those."
"She ran off, dragging Uvo and I from the slave labor division to help her." Franklin laughs sadly. "And later saved Chrollo and Machi from the streets. We kept moving so they wouldn't find us. Eventually we took in Feitan after he escaped from the orphanage, too."
Feitan shifts uncomfortably. "You say too much."
"No, if he claims to care for Danchou, he should know." Phinks pulls Woble closer to his chest. Oito's hand brushes his hips, a gentle reminder that she loves him.
Feitan wishes he could hold Machi and their child close, too, but Machi would hate it. Anyhow, this is his problem, his insecurity. Damn, he hates feeling protective.
"We beat a few tourists into teaching us nen. That's when Danchou came up the idea to form the Spiders." Nobunaga shakes his head.
Franklin guffaws. He has to force himself to laugh, of course. "That's when he first reached out to our rivals. Phinks and Shalnark were our rivals for food where we on the outskirts. We eventually converted both of them."
"Ha! You liar. We converted you," Phinks retorts.
"We're here." Shizuku announces unnecessarily as they step up to the courthouse.
"Outta the way!"
Feitan shoves Kurapika back, as if protective of him for now. A short, squat man walks forward. A band of hulking guards shove the unfortunates out of this important man's way.
Kurapika was expecting someone in expensive embroidered silk, perhaps adorned with luxurious jewelry. Instead, the man is wrapped in a thick down coat that obscures his face.
Perhaps, here, luxury simply means a thick coat.
"Gyro," Phinks growls.
Though the crowd is plenty loud, the man turns his head straight to Phinks.
Melody looks ill.
"Who?" Kurapika asks.
"I can't." Melody shakes. Shizuku grabs the other woman to hold her upright. "He's – his heartbeat – it's the man on the phone – he's terrible!"
Kurapika growls. Of course he's terrible. This man has Chrollo. "Do you know him?"
The spiders glance at each other.
"He and Hisoka's benefactor one and the same," Feitan says at last.
"Hisoka." Nobunaga curls his fist.
"Hisoka never liked to speak of him," Machi says, surprising herself. For once, her instincts tell her Hisoka has nothing to do with this debacle.
A throng of Gyro's guards pass, and Feitan winces when he notices the small one in front, the one out of place.
The Owl from Yorknew.
The Owl's eyes land on his, and Feitan does his best to sneer.
He can't say he blames the man, but still. That was past. In present, Owl hurting Feitan's boss. Feitan will not forgive him. And he won't feel guilt.
The guards part as they enter the courthouse, revealing a figure between them. His hands are behind his back, and he's pulled forth by a chain that wraps around his neck like a dog.
Kurapika's pulse races. He only glimpsed his back, yes, but he knows Chrollo's body. Probably better than most – a fact that embarrasses him a little.
His voice is ravaged with grief. "They already took him in."
"We expected that." Feitan fixes his gaze on Kurapika. "Everyone, in your positions. No movement until I give the signal, and that won't be until we know what this fucker's plan is."
As the group disperses, Machi lingers besides him a second. "Say it."
Feitan growls. "We can't conduct an escape in this crowd."
Chrollo well remembers the musty smell of rotting wood mixed with he sour scent of sweat. He once to snuck into a court trial when he was six. The man screamed and begged for his life as he was sentenced to be torn apart. It was pathetic, and the mafia used that example for months. Never disobey the mafia.
So much of his life he's done exactly that. Funny how one incident affected him that much. At the time, he'd just cried a little when he ran home, and his mother had kissed away his tears.
Chrollo is pushed onto the lone stand before the judge's pulpit.
There are two levels to the courthouse, both without seating. Not even the judge will have a place to sit. Well, both the judge's spot and the first level were rumored to have had seating, but even the most uncomfortable seats were all robbed. Now, both levels are packed with standing people held back by rickety gates.
Some are eager to see the infamous leader of the Phantom Troupe; some merely wish to escape the heat for an hour or two. After all these years, Meteor City remains the same.
The Owl fastens the chain around Chrollo's neck to the stand.
He remembers. If he tries to flee, the stand will trigger a mechanism that drops a blade from the ceiling. He'll lose his head if he's lucky, or bleed out after the loss of a limb if he's not.
And he's not going to give Gyro the satisfaction.
Gyro retreats into the crowd like the coward Chrollo always knew he was. The guards remain surrounding him.
"Attention!" cries a reedy voice. "Make way, make way!"
This is the man Kurapika expected Gyro to be. An overweight simpleton with a ridiculous wig and aura of self-importance, trampling his way through the crowds to the first floor. Kurapika yanks a child away from his kick.
"Bastard," he growls.
The little girl does not thank him. She jerks away and disappears into the throngs. Kurapika can't help but wonder if she works for the mafia, too.
"Stay calm," Leorio hisses to Kurapika. He, Cheadle, and Machi stand the closest to Chrollo, in the third row from the gate.
Kurapika takes a deep breath. It will do no good if he reveals his scarlet eyes now. Though a distraction might –
"Don't you dare." Machi elbows Kurapika. She's clearly here as his babysitter, and he resents this.
"We have a list of crimes against both those from Meteor City, and those not. Those from will take precedent, as usual." Judge Valdrada – who is only a judge in Meteor City, by Meteor City standards, which means the mafia leaders like him enough that his daughter lived long enough to become one of their wives – scans the papers in his hands.
"Does that mean their lives have less meaning?" Chrollo asks drolly. If the trial of a guilty man is starting, he might as well say what he likes. He raises his voice, so that the entire crowd can hear him.
Kurapika shakes. He asked Chrollo that question, over and over and over.
And before, Chrollo's actions altogether answered No.
But now – it's only words, and the implication of those words, instead of action – but now Kurapika desperately wants them to show that Chrollo's answer has become Yes.
Valdrada ignores jab. "I see you're another nameless one."
"On the contrary. I named myself Chrollo Lucilfer." Chrollo hopes people are listening. That you can choose your own name, even if your parents were too poor to give you one.
"How dramatic." Valdrada rolls his eyes.
Chrollo winks, because he will not be intimidated. This will be his legacy, if nothing else.
Valdrada points behind Chrollo.
A guard steps behind him and easily snaps the pinkie on his right hand to an unnatural angle.
Chrollo's felt worse pain. He rolls his eyes, despite the fact that his left little finger is then now broken. It's worth it.
Magistrate Valdrada, that fat, pompous ass. No one honest is overweight in Meteor City.
Chrollo cocks his head, waiting for Valdrada to continue.
Valdrada scowls. No doubt he wanted Chrollo to cry. Unlike Gyro's collected cruelty, Valdrada boldly revels in his sadism. "There's quite a lengthy list."
Chrollo forces himself to stare straight ahead. If he makes eye contact with Kurapika, or any of the Spiders, this will not end the way he's decided.
"The list mostly concerns one event: your massacre of the Kurta clan. Now, our humble, great City never had interactions with them, though I'm told the mafia still views your extinction of the clan as treason against our City. Something about money for the eyes that could have helped us impoverished." Valdrada blinks innocently. "But they have not elected to charge you with that yet."
"Instead, most of their charges concern what came after. All involving your prize from the massacre: those legendary Scarlet Eyes."
Chrollo's heart palpitates. He guessed correctly.
Your loyalties will destroy you. Gyro is playing his trump card, and Chrollo is merely a bystander, not even a part of the true game. Only his Spiders, and Kurapika, are.
Please remember what I taught you, he prays to Machi, Feitan, Kalluto, Phinks, Oito, Shizuku, Franklin, Bonolenov, Illumi and even Hisoka.
For Kurapika, Chrollo prays again for the atonement he's already received. He hopes Kurapika grants him this for as long as Kurapika lives, and he hopes it's a long time. Forgive me.
Valdrada drones on. "I see one of your most famous victims, the daughter of Light Nostrade."
Her name was Neon, Chrollo thinks bitterly. If you're going to pretend to care, at least say her name.
"She was not a subject of Meteor City, but her father often hired folks from here. When the Nostrades fell, she was assaulted and died from a single blow to the head." Valdrada clears his throat.
Kurapika swallows thickly. He can feel Leorio's heartbreak, Machi's revulsion.
Valdrada continues to read, as if Neon's death is simply words and not the extinguishment of a person. As if she doesn't matter, despite the fact that he's trying Chrollo for her death.
"I see you had been infiltrated her guards. Most likely you were interested in her treasure, no, and once you had that, you left her to the mafia."
The room is still, but to the Spiders and especially to Chrollo, Kurapika's dawning realization creeps over their skin.
Chrollo swallows.
Neon was Chrollo's victim far before she was Kurapika's. Chrollo deliberately took from her; Kurapika merely neglected his duty. If only Kurapika can see that nuance.
"I left her to the mafia? Are you not a member of the mafia?" Chrollo responds to the judge.
Valdrada rolls his eyes. He snaps his fingers, and Chrollo feels the guard grab his left index finger, and twist, and twist.
His finger snaps. Chrollo does his best to squirm as little as possible.
"There will be more of those if you speak out of turn again," Valdrada says casually.
"You'd like that."
Valdrada makes good on his promise. Chrollo's right thumb is now useless.
"A teacher whose wife was from Meteor City. He used Scarlet Eyes for his biology classes. You burned his hand with acid in order to steal them."
Chrollo is dimly aware of a rustle in the crowd. He doesn't need to turn around to know Kurapika understands now, and yet his friends won't let him come forward and doom himself.
He's counting on them. Leorio, Melody, my Spiders – please save him.
"The lawyer who tried to save a falsely accused Meteor City inhabitant's life ten years ago. You sold him out to the assassins seeking his life, until he gave you the eyes."
"The musician whose only means of work you stole alongside the eyes his late father had given him, so that he fell to drugs. He wound up here shortly before he died."
"The investor whose children you threatened. He was not from here, though many of his servants were."
"The doctor who wished to use the genetics of Scarlet Eyes to cure visual disorders. You burned his results without a care for how many in meteor City could have benefited."
"The board members you trapped in a burning building. They have sent aid here in the past."
"The tycoon who killed himself a day after speaking to you. He was not connected to Meteor City, but he may have been had you not shortened his life."
"The founder of a religion, the woman who'd finally restored her life, who worshiped beauty and humanity. The woman who inspired many other young women from Meteor City. You revealed her past to her followers until they deserted her."
"The politician who gave you everything to cover his affair. His wife originated here. She is no longer his wife."
"The artist whom you made draw in his own Scarlet blood. That's a particularly grotesque one. He came here trying to kill you. We killed him instead."
Drawing in someone's own blood. That's something Feitan would have made his victims do. Chrollo's heart aches. Kurapika, what have you done?
He knows these are the secrets of the man he loves. He's not even surprised. After all, Chrollo himself has done far worse.
But it still hurts. Because, deep down, Chrollo truly does think of himself as evil. And he does not think that way of Kurapika; he never has.
There is something inherently good about Kurapika, in his core essence, and Chrollo loves that. Maybe because he's not tainted by Meteor City; maybe it's because he has special eyes; maybe it's all in Chrollo's head because Chrollo loves Kurapika. Chrollo doesn't care why; he just knows he wants to preserve that goodness, strengthen it, regain what Chrollo stole from him when he slaughtered the Kurtas.
"How does the prisoner respond to these charges?" Valdrada smirks.
Chrollo lowers his head. His Adam's apple bobs up and down. The room grows quiet, save for the snuffly breathing and coughs that plague this dump.
"Speak, prisoner."
Chrollo lifts his head. His dark bangs fall back to reveal the cross prominent on his forehead.
His heart hammers. Leorio, Melody, please finish what I've started.
"There's no need to continue."
Chrollo's middle finger is crushed next. Damn, he could have used it.
"I'll decide that," Valdrada declares shrilly.
"What I mean is I confess."
The crowd gasps.
In the crowd, Gyro scowls, and Valdrada coughs to hide his flummox. "Huh?"
"I lost several members due to the Kurta Clan Massacre. Of course I wanted the eyes back. Something so dangerous does not belong in the hands of ordinary people." Chrollo smirks. "I wanted to eliminate them from the world, thereby keeping everyone safe from the violent effects of their beauty."
Kurapika finally wrestles free to land a punch square on Leorio. When he friend stumbles back, Kurapika rushes forward.
"Oh no, you don't." Machi's nen stitches wrap around his ankles, tripping him, hindering him –
"Stop! I have to – I have to get there!" Kurapika clamors to his feet.
In any other city, someone falling to the ground and shrieking during a trial would be sensational. In Meteor City, it's typical. Perhaps he's on drugs. Perhaps he's crazy. No one expected differently.
"Then this court sentences you. I, Judge Octavia Valdrada, sentence this nameless man to one-hundred-twenty-eight lashes, followed by public execution." Valdrada draws himself up, a prim smile on his face, as if he's ordered a hamburger and not death.
Kurapika opens his mouth to scream. He can, and he will, scream louder than anyone here.
Strong arms wrap around him, pinning him to the ground. Machi's pink hair clouds his vision.
Kurapika struggles, but of course he can't hurt her – not when she's carrying a baby – but – but – "Let me go!"
"He's doing this for you – don't you dare throw it away!" Machi hates the tears running down her face. She hates that she has to save Uvo and Paku's killer. She hates that she's powerless. "Don't you fucking dare."
"He can't die for me! That's me! Those are my crimes!" Kurapika rolls out from under her to seize her by her shoulders. He shake Machi until her teeth rattle. "Don't you see – I've been a hypocrite and a villain all this time! It's my fault. I deserve punishment, not him."
"Not him?" Franklin scoffs. He and Feitan rushed over once they saw that Leorio's prediction that Kurapika would go rogue was inevitable.
"And here I thought you wanted us to suffer for our massacres." Feitan grabs Kurapika by his hair.
"If you deserve to suffer punishment, don't we deserve more?" Sweat runs down Nobunaga's forehead as he, too, approaches. Tears fill his eyes.
"We have to save him! I'll – I have proof that I did it." Kurapika fishes around for the Scarlet Eyes in his pocket. Pairo, I'm sorry.
"Wow, you're choosing Danchou over your eyes," Bonolenov observes.
"He's – still alive." Kurapika gags.
Since he lost his home, he's been living for the dead. He made his home death. And now – now he realizes how wrong he was.
Kurapika spies Leorio in the Spiders surrounding him, blocking him from seeing wherever they're taking Chrollo. Leorio's jaw swells with purple blood.
"Don't you hate me?" he begs. "Now you know everything I've done. I'm sick and evil and – and – "
"You can't make me hate you," Leorio says, avoiding Kurapika's eyes.
"Look at me!" Kurapika screeches.
Leorio obeys. His eyes are hurt, stunned, repulsed, even. But they're also crying, for him and for Chrollo. "I'm still your friend."
"Then let me turn myself in," Kurapika begs.
"Nope." Cheadle crosses her arms.
Kurapika flounders. Panic takes over. This is why he should be alone, work alone. "Emperor Time."
Phinks squeaks in fury.
"Fuck, he's strong." Machi doubles down on her grip. She knows he won't hurt her, and Kurapika loathes her for it.
"Kurapika, stop."
Oito's voice stabs through his heart. He can feel her anger, her despair. Blasted manipulator.
" If you want to waste everything Chrollo has given back to you, that's your prerogative," Oito says. "But don't expect us to sit back and watch both of you die."
Kurapika crumbles. His Scarlet Eyes dissipate, though his scleras are now scarlet from tears.
"Aren't you going to play your flute?" Kurapika spits towards Melody, in one final act of desperate self-destruction.
She shakes her head. Large tears run down her beautiful face. "I can't tell you to be calm right now, because I don't think any of us should be."