Author's Notes:
PAIRINGS: Leorio/Kurapika (Leopika). Hisoka/Kurapika (Hisopika). Leorio/Cheadle.
RATING: Mature. Violent content.
SPOILERS? Yes, until chapter 390 of the Hunter x Hunter manga by Yoshihiro Togashi. You may want to click off until you've caught up with the Succession War Arc, or have decided that you don't care. I do attempt to explain the context for the uninitiated.
Chapter 38: Summoned demon
Four days until the projected end of the voyage to the Dark Continent, they're finally about to enact the plan to storm King Nasubi's quarters.
Leorio walks the length of the hallway, ready to take his place alongside the Zodiac Twelve. The Zodiacs are tasked with taking down Morena first off, then the other Kakin mafia members who choose to fight with her instead of succumbing to a bloodless surrender.
Leorio clenches his fist as he goes. Sustainable expenditure, as Izunavi taught him. But beyond simply tempering the unruly spikes of his aura, Leorio applies this philosophy to other situations that his mentor, in all likelihood, never contemplated. Leorio is determined not to waste life and health and energy — of others or of his own — unless absolutely necessary. Until he reaches this point of sheer necessity, he can always talk things through, restrict the violence to the volume of his voice. Why else has he been blessed with such a big mouth?
"You'll do fine, Leorio," he mutters to himself, out of the corner of his big mouth. "Don't forget why you agreed to join this voyage in the first place."
"You will do fine, Leorio," a melodic voice beside him reassures him. "You're strong and brave and dependable. When it comes to you, there's never anything to worry about."
Before Leorio can express his gratitude for the compliment, Melody overtakes him, followed by Queen Oito, who has the wide-eyed 14th Prince Woble wrapped in her arms. The 8th Queen is flanked by Bill and Basho. Biscuit skips behind them, looking cheerful to be out and about after being cooped up in the 13th Prince's quarters for practically the entirety of the voyage.
"Hey, don't leave me behind!" Hanzo calls, bounding after them.
Bill, Basho, and Biscuit welcome Hanzo among their ranks.
"How about 11th Prince Fugetsu?" Bill asks Hanzo.
"She opted to stay behind, just like 13th Prince Marayam," Hanzo informs him. "Probably for the best. 9th Prince Halkenburg respects her decision."
Leorio passes by the 9th Prince's camp now, whose members are standing in a circle. The 9th Prince's personal guards gaze admiringly at their leader as he gives them an inspiring pep talk in a low voice. While tempted to listen in, Leorio knows he should move on.
Leorio finally reaches the Zodiacs. At first, he takes his assigned position behind Cheadle. Noticing, however, that Cheadle isn't paying any attention to him, absorbed as she is in her conversation with Cluck, he takes this opportunity to walk even farther ahead. He's been dying to check on Kurapika, who's first in line, standing right by the door to the king's quarters.
"Kurapika?" Leorio says once he reaches him. "Are you feeling better yet? I heard that you've been —"
Leorio cuts his own sentence short as a chill runs down his spine. Leorio is looking directly at Kurapika, addressing him by name, and yet . . . Kurapika is staring straight past Leorio's face as if he doesn't even see him. As if Leorio doesn't exist at all. Is this what it feels like to be a ghost?
Leorio detects a trace of scarlet over the dark eyes as Kurapika moves away to stand on the left side of the door instead, where Hisoka is waiting.
Leorio considers marching over to Kurapika again, demanding that his questions be answered or that his presence be at the very least acknowledged. However, just then, Kurapika seems to fall against Hisoka's chest.
Hisoka tucks a tuft of Kurapika's blond hair behind his ear and leans in to whisper something.
Just one scream. Maybe Leorio should put his big mouth to work and get out one long, wordless scream of rage and frustration. Instead, with his blood pounding in his ears, Leorio stomps away, back to his proper place.
"You're trash," Hisoka whispers. "You're good for nothing. Everybody who loved you has left you. Everybody who loved you, but who never left, is dead. They're only dead because of you. Your weakness. Your incompetence. You failed them. You abandoned them when they needed you most. You should have died protecting them. You should be dead right now. You're a waste of space. You might as well stop breathing. Your home is empty. Nobody wants you."
Shivering, Kurapika rests a palm against Hisoka's chest, then pushes himself off slowly, managing to stand with his own strength again. "Thank you, Hisoka. I needed that."
Hisoka ruffles his blond hair. "If you need another boost, just let me know. This is fun, isn't it? Like dirty talk beyond the bedroom. You naughty little boy, why are you still wearing your contacts? Didn't you promise Daddy that you'd take them off? Strip!"
Kurapika gives a husky laugh. His throat must still be somewhat sore. "Okay, okay. You damn dirty talker. Just hang on. I'd almost forgotten."
Kurapika's right hand is trembling, so Hisoka volunteers to help out. Allowing his chained arm to drop to his side, Kurapika stands stock-still as Hisoka carefully plucks out the black contacts.
It's somewhat erotic, really, this act of extracting the dark film to witness the spicy scarlet underneath. Perhaps Hisoka can convince his boyfriend to add this particularly intimate ritual to their bedtime routine.
As Hisoka has suspected, 4th Prince Tserriednich also harbors a significant weakness to the sight of scarlet. Hisoka, who first floated the idea of having Kurapika fight sans dark contacts, already knows that even the briefest visual assessment will reveal that a flesh collector's shelf of scarlet eyes, no matter how well-kept or extensive, can never compare to the live specimen.
The live specimen of scarlet eyes in question is currently darting around, always elusive as a lightning bolt in the thick of battle. Kurapika easily evades the advances of the 4th Prince's guardian spirit, an antennaed beast of bulbous flesh and hawkish talons. The beast, which presents the face of a refined woman, dances around Kurapika on stilettoed feet. Its worm-like neck effortlessly extends and retracts in its repeated attempts to bite Kurapika's head clean off his shoulders.
Over on the other side of the king's bedroom, Hisoka keeps up a relentless stream of card attacks against the 4th Prince. Hisoka needs to ensure that the prince never has enough time to activate Zetsu, in which state he may apparently trigger a prodigious predeterminative ability. Hisoka takes care to liberally coat each card he throws with Bungee Gum.
The 4th Prince, for his part, doesn't even seem to notice that he's gradually slowing down, getting more and more mired down by the rubbery substance. Even as the prince tries to twist away from each of Hisoka's well-aimed cards, most of his attention is devoted to the neighboring battle, which features his invisible guardian, and to the brilliance of red that pervades it.
Once again, the beast bears down its razor-sharp teeth over Kurapika, who manages just then to puncture the roof of its mouth with the syringe of the Steal Chain. As Kurapika drains the beast of its aura — essentially its life force, as a Nen-infused spirit — the creature gapes its maw open, wider than ever before, to release a bloodcurdling howl.
From the shadowy depths of the monster's throat, the head of a child surfaces. The child also shrieks, spitting out a swollen two-pronged tongue, with each prong tipped with a scarlet eye —
It's all over then.
Hisoka watches in wonder as the Nen beast's head, forcefully wrenched from its neck, spins in the air — completing four dizzying loops — and lands on the floor just in front of him. Twitching. Dying. Dead.
Hisoka glances over to where Kurapika was standing before, but he isn't there anymore.
Kurapika is suddenly looming in front of the 4th Prince, landing a powerful punch straight to his chest. Thrown backward, the prince's body sails across the room and slams against the wall above the king's bed. The prince slides down, leaving a glistening streak of red on the intricately stenciled wallpaper, then falls over the bed.
Kurapika approaches the prince, who is now stirring feebly over his father's silken sheets. The prince's fingers root over his own bruised chest, where a chain is already embedded deep in his flesh.
"You're now bound by the Judgment Chain," Kurapika explains, with his voice grave. "I set conditions. You follow my conditions. If you violate even a single one, you will perish."
The prince struggles to sit up. Still in a somewhat disoriented state, his eyes wildly search the room for a way out.
"First condition," Kurapika declares. "Do not use any Nen-based techniques. This of course includes Zetsu."
The prince stops squirming, then fixes his gaze on Kurapika's face.
"Second condition," Kurapika says. "Answer my questions honestly."
Right then, the prince appears to give up on the idea of even trying to escape. Resigned to his fate now, he flops his injured body over his father's pillows again. "I will not lie. I detest liars with every fiber of my being, although I may make exceptions for the cute ones. Are you going to ask me about my collection of scarlet eyes?"
"I would praise you for this astute prediction, if not for the fact that I'm staring down at you with scarlet eyes of my own."
The prince smiles. "I already knew you were coming for me. The Chain Bastard, they called you."
Kurapika hesitates as something occurs to him. "Ah, so that's what that critter meant back then."
"Seems like Nobunaga wasn't talking about warning Danchou after all," Hisoka muses aloud. He notices that Kurapika flinches upon hearing the late Spider's name.
"For over four weeks," the 4th Prince is saying now, "I have eagerly awaited this chance to scoop out the scarlet eyes of the last Kurta survivor with my own two hands. No, perhaps with the silver spoon that I use to stir my tea. Does that not sound aesthetically pleasing?"
Kurapika flicks his right hand, and the prince gasps as the chain squeezes painfully around his heart. "Don't speak as you please. Where are the scarlet eyes now? I'm here to retrieve them."
"I cannot give them to you."
"The eyes rightfully belong to me. They're the remains of my family."
"Be that as it may," the prince says, "I cannot return them to you. The scarlet eyes are gone."
Kurapika's eyes flash dangerously. "Gone?! Where are they? Explain!"
"During the nominal ceremonies, I had a fateful conversation with those thieves who bear a grudge against you, the so-called Chain Bastard. We agreed upon a trade back then. They would furnish me with treasures the likes of which I had never seen, while I would —"
"Did you give the scarlet eyes back to the Phantom Troupe?!"
The prince snickers. "My, you offend your own flesh and blood with such a suggestion. Of course I would not sell the scarlet eyes for any price, would not barter them for any earthly treasure. I did, however, consent to relinquish the eyes in order to assist the Spiders in accomplishing a most deliciously sadistic move against the last Kurta survivor."
"And what would that move be?" Kurapika asks stiffly.
"Since returning from the nominal ceremonies, and sporadically throughout the voyage, I have instructed my men to periodically cast out the components of my prized collection to the waters below. I personally threw out the last pair of eyes only three days ago."
Kurapika's voice is devoid of emotion now. "You threw all the eyes away, then."
"Yes, and I have been patiently waiting for you ever since. How else can I excite the deepest fury from the final survivor, thereby bearing witness to the scarlet in its most scintillating state?"
Hisoka expects Kurapika to start screaming bloody murder right then, but to his surprise, his partner's voice is as level as can be when he asks his next question. "Where's Pairo?"
The prince only raises an eyebrow. "Pairo? Who or what is Pairo?"
"The head. The boy's head. I know you have him in your possession. Why else would you bastardize Pairo's memory with a hideous imitation of his beautiful face inside your Nen beast's filthy mouth?"
"Pairo. . . ."
Kurapika's voice wavers with repressed grief as he speaks. "I've been searching all over for Pairo's head. I've sworn not to rest until I find my most precious person."
"Pairo. What an exquisite name indeed. It suits him wonderfully."
"Where is he?! Answer me at once!"
The prince jerks up in bed, wheezing as his fingers scrabble uselessly over his chest. Kurapika is smothering his heart with the Judgment Chain. Tighter. Tighter still.
Hisoka moves closer to touch Kurapika's shoulder. "He's going to die if you keep doing that. If the prince dies now, you won't be able to get the answers you need."
Kurapika grunts, impatient, then jerks his right wrist again. Once Kurapika has slackened the chain around his heart, the prince sucks in gigantic gulps of oxygen.
"Answer me," Kurapika repeats, his voice quiet now.
The prince dabs at the sweat pouring over his face. "You need not get so worked up, I assure you. Just like you, I am quite the avid connoisseur of Pairo's beauty and companionship. I may have thrown away the rest of your brethren's remains in a concerted effort to spite you, but I could not bear to part with my beloved Pairo. You see, even as I grew increasingly paranoid with the women who shared my bed and sated my lust — I would flay them and fillet them for the slightest impertinence — Pairo alone remained a flawless bedfellow."
From the tangle of silk sheets, the 4th Prince unearths a lump which seems like yet another pillow, but which is actually the head of the long-lost Pairo. The prince takes on a nostalgic tone of speaking, as if recalling fond memories. "Dear Pairo. He was steadfast, he was silent, he alone could satisfy me. His company far surpassed the corpses of every useless woman my men would procure for me. Believe me, I have held other heads — coalesced with them to test their chambers and shapes around me — but nobody gets me quite like Pairo."
Kurapika leans forward to take Pairo from the 4th Prince's arms. Hisoka remains close by to ensure that the prince won't try to take advantage of Kurapika's temporarily distracted state. But the prince is only beaming, captivated by the fiery shimmer of Kurapika's eyes as he reunites with his childhood friend and first love.
Here, at long last, is Pairo — skin waxy, brown hair matted with white goo, mouth gaping open and dripping with the same sticky substance, eyes forever aflame. . . .
"Hisoka?" Kurapika's voice is soft. "Will you please take care of Pairo for me?"
Hisoka receives the desecrated head and steps away, already anticipating the prime entertainment that he knows is about to unfold.
Kurapika doesn't disappoint. The moment he entrusts Pairo to Hisoka, he turns back to the 4th Prince and beats him down on the mattress. Kurapika pounces on top of the bed, wedges his knees against the prince's broad chest, and punches the prince repeatedly — ruthlessly — on the head. Blood is squirting out from the prince's face, broken teeth are flying everywhere, and Kurapika is yelling, again and again and again — how dare you, how dare you, how dare you. . . .
Everything is red now. The sheets, the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the very air that Hisoka breathes. The scarlet is spreading, tainting every atom of the room with brutal bloodlust.
As he embraces Pairo's head, Hisoka groans in unadulterated pleasure. He's rock-hard as he relishes this most exquisite scene. Yes, this is exactly what Hisoka has been waiting for all this time, the true reason that he's stuck by Kurapika's side. He's always known that Kurapika was capable of such sublime carnage. All it would take was a push here and there, a voice to echo the darker thoughts, an external force to actualize the most violent fantasies.
Shoved to the brink this way, sanity frayed and waiting to snap, the red-eyed demon that hooked in Hisoka in the first place — leaving him addicted to flashes of resplendent red, to this promise of more — can finally reemerge. Hisoka and this demon he summoned, they can fight side by side from now on, obliterating everything that displeases them on their destructive path to hell.
Kurapika only gives pause when his fists, bleeding from cuts from the prince's teeth and shards of skull, are punching nothing except the pillows. He sits back on his heels, glaring down at the space where Prince Tserriednich's face used to be. All that's left now is a crimson pulp, purplish tatters of skin.
A minute passes. When Kurapika speaks, his voice is soft again, the way it was earlier. "Hisoka. . . ."
Hearing how lost Kurapika sounds, Hisoka hurries to his side and lifts him up from the 4th Prince's corpse. Kurapika half-collapses by the king's bed and stays there, plaintively asking for Pairo again.
Crouching next to Kurapika, Hisoka snatches the blanket crumpled beneath the prince's legs. He meticulously wipes off the fresh blood drenching Kurapika's hands before allowing him to hold Pairo once more.
Hisoka glances at Kurapika's wristwatch. "It's nearly time to meet Danchou. Are you coming along?"
But Kurapika can't hear Hisoka anymore. With eyes like melting scarlet, Kurapika hugs Pairo close to his chest. Rocking forward and backward, he apologizes incessantly. For failing Pairo, over and over again. For losing his way. For taking too long. For so carelessly permitting all the evils of the world to disable Pairo, to destroy him, to defile his purity so irretrievably.
As Kurapika continues mumbling to himself, Hisoka caresses Kurapika's blood-flecked face. "Listen, Kurapika. I know that the 9th Prince requested that his half-brother be neutralized instead of killed, if at all possible. But don't worry about it, okay? If push comes to shove, I'll take the fall for the 4th Prince's murder. I'll keep everything that happened here a secret. I'll protect you until the end."
Kurapika, of course, doesn't respond.
Hisoka kisses Kurapika on the forehead. "I have to go now. But I'll come back for you as soon as I can."
Hisoka drapes the bloodstained blanket over Kurapika's shuddering shoulders before he gets up to leave the king's quarters.
It's time to face Chrollo for the second round. Hisoka may have lost once, but he now has tricks up his sleeve that he didn't have before.
Chrollo is waiting in the designated meeting place, the cabin that Illumi and Kalluto took as their own after dealing with its previous inhabitants.
Something white rustles beneath his boot as he paces. He kneels to examine it.
Paper dolls, with hands joined like the happiest of families. There's a dull blow somewhere in the vicinity of his rib cage as he recognizes the silhouettes.
Nearly every member of this found family — each handpicked by himself from the dredges of Meteor City — is gone now.
"Hisoka is on his way," says a toneless voice by the entrance.
Chrollo slips the paper dolls into an inner pocket of his trench coat, somewhere close to his heart, before he turns toward the door. "Thank you, Illumi. Remember what I said before. Now that your job here is finished, you and Kalluto should escape as soon as possible, just like Feitan and Shizuku have already done."
"Oh, we're not at all worried," Illumi says lightly. "Hisoka and I have a long history and a reasonably strong bond — one that isn't likely to be derailed by bad blood among mutual acquaintances. At least, not just yet. You're the one who needs to be careful, you know? Do you have a plan?"
"Something like that," Chrollo replies. "Regardless of Hisoka's response to what I'm about to tell him, this all ends today."
