Author's Notes:
PAIRINGS: Leorio/Kurapika (Leopika). Hisoka/Kurapika (Hisopika). Leorio/Cheadle.
RATING: Mature. Violent content. Sexual 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.
Special thanks to Caasi, whose crucial advice helped me with Chrollo's characterization.
Chapter 39: Deluge of emotions
Hisoka is hard again at the moment that he lays his eyes upon the man who killed him once upon a time. Chrollo is facing away from him, the pointed gold of the cross on his coat looking almost luminous in the candlelit cabin.
When Chrollo turns to face Hisoka, his expression is blank, his hands empty.
Hisoka wilts a little when he sees this. "Well, don't just stand there and stare. Fetch your book and fight me."
"Paper is a wonderfully symbolic thing, isn't it?" Chrollo replies. "It can convey messages. Act as strategic weaponry for Nen users like you and me. Sever into shapes that trigger painful memories. Like a spirit, paper can fold upon pressure. Like a heart, it can tear into shreds." Chrollo now moves toward the candle on the table. "Like a life, it can go up in smoke."
Hisoka gasps and glances at the candle. "You didn't."
"But I did. You left me a letter written with Bonolenov's blood. You asked me to give myself up. What more do you want from me?"
Hisoka is disgusted now. "I never asked you to burn your book. How else are you going to fight me?"
"I don't want to fight you, Hisoka." Chrollo takes a seat at the table. "Why don't you sit down? We can talk."
Hisoka suspiciously eyes the chair opposite Chrollo's. "I'll pass. I have no interest in playing with broken toys. Or engaging in idle chitchat with them."
"If you never wanted me broken, then why did you go to such lengths to break me?"
"I was only trying to make you angry. I wanted to rattle that flawless composure of yours." Hisoka parks a fist on his hip and twists his lips into an ironic smile. "You know what? Maybe if I wrench off your four remaining legs, you'll change your mind about giving up. Even without Skill Hunter, your mastery of Nen should make you sufficiently diverting as an opponent. What do you say?"
Chrollo's voice is calm. "You won't lay a hand on Illumi and Kalluto. You've had plenty of opportunities before now to target them, but you haven't so much as scratched them. As for Feitan and Shizuku, they're not on the Black Whale anymore. I've already sent them away on a small boat."
"I can always hunt them down. Haven't you heard? We Hunters share a particular unfortunate habit. We'll stalk our prey till kingdom come, no matter how much they try to run."
"To what end now?" Chrollo inquires. "I've officially disbanded the Troupe. The remaining legs gave me, as the head, their word that they would never attempt to revive the Spider. You see, once I pass, Feitan will be the only founding member left. I want to keep it that way. You can kill me, Hisoka. Torture me. Do whatever else you want with me. I don't care. You must promise, however, to end this rampage for revenge once and for all. Leave the surviving Spiders alone."
Silence follows Chrollo's supposed dying request. "Tell you what," Hisoka says after a while, "why don't I let my boyfriend decide how to handle you and your whining? Given that his grudge against you is a million times more powerful than mine, who knows what he's capable of doing? If you're seeking to be tortured. . . ." Hisoka licks his lips and grins. "My boyfriend can certainly give you what you want. He has a burgeoning talent for torture. I've seen his sadism in action while hunting down the Spider's legs together. Someday he'll give even your beloved Feitan a run for his money, mark my words."
Chrollo clasps his hands over the table. "As you wish. Bring me this boyfriend of yours. I'll wait right here."
"After this joyful reunion, you may think twice about surrendering. I'm hoping to ignite a spark of vitality in you yet."
Hisoka has to explain the situation numerous times before it finally gets through Kurapika's stupor. As the words sink in, Kurapika jerks out of the indescribable emptiness that permeates his every muscle and bone. His fury upon hearing that Chrollo is serenely awaiting his judgment equips him with a new sense of purpose.
Carefully, Kurapika wraps his childhood friend's head in the bloodstained blanket and struggles to his feet with Hisoka's assistance. "That murderer must pay for every life he's robbed from me. Lead the way, Hisoka."
In the cabin, Chrollo shows no signs whatsoever of fighting, escaping, or resisting. Nevertheless, Kurapika whips out his middle finger and imprisons Chrollo with such force that his chair scrapes backward and crashes against the wall.
"Tell me why you did it, scum," Kurapika spits out venomously.
"Did what?" Chrollo only says.
Kurapika lands a punch straight to Chrollo's face. There's a crunch as the man's nose breaks.
Chrollo must be seeing stars, as the impact of the hit has smacked his skull against the wall behind him. Even so, he manages to speak through the blood flowing thick and hot over his teeth. "Within this lifetime, I've spearheaded or personally conducted more socially reprehensible actions than I can plausibly count. You'll have to help me out and be a bit more specific here."
"I'm talking about this."
Kurapika unwraps the blanket that he's brought and positions Pairo's head on the table before Chrollo, who only stares down without any expression.
When Chrollo speaks, he only sounds bewildered. "You're giving me grief about the scarlet eyes again? Hasn't it been years since you last screamed at me over this same old story? Have you been doing nothing since then but encouraging this purposeless rage to fester in your system?"
These words warrant a blow to Chrollo's throat. Chrollo coughs, flecking blood over the table, over Pairo's face.
"Apologize to Pairo," Kurapika commands. "Beg my friend for forgiveness."
"Why should I? I don't even remember killing this so-called Pairo."
"Are you denying that you directed the genocide that took Pairo and my clan from me?"
"I'm just saying that this genocide — if that's what you want to call it — was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Your clan was but a drop in the vast ocean of the Phantom Troupe's enduring legacy. We've visited our chaos upon dozens of clans, upon hundreds of families. It's logistically impossible to commit every life that we took to memory. As for this boy. . . ." Still bound by Chain Jail, Chrollo bends his neck to more closely examine Pairo's head. "I don't believe I've ever laid eyes on him. Or if I have, I've forgotten completely. Compared with the rest of the scarlet eyes — or yours, for that matter — this child's eyes are cloudy, uncommonly dull. It doesn't help that his physical features are so nondescript."
With a roar of rage, Kurapika begins in earnest to pummel Chrollo with his fists.
In a shadowy corner of the cabin, Hisoka strokes his throbbing erection to the rhythm of his partner's unmitigated violence. Hisoka snuffs out his lustful moans as much as he's able, but neither Kurapika nor Chrollo pay an iota of attention to him. How can they, at this point?
Hisoka's masturbatory bliss is interrupted when Kurapika abruptly halts in his assault.
Kurapika's eyes are wide, mystified. "You're crying? None of the others cried when I beat them like this."
"It's all my fault," Chrollo moans through a mouthful of blood. "I did this to my family."
"Your family," Kurapika repeats hollowly.
"I led this useless quest for revenge. I may as well have signed the warrants for my family's deaths. I —"
The remainder of Chrollo's sentence is drowned out in a groan as the Stake of Retribution suddenly sinks into his chest.
Kurapika is yelling now. "How dare you! How dare you mourn your family when you shamelessly stole my clan from me! You refuse to apologize, and yet you have the audacity to blubber like this in front of me? Don't be such a fucking crybaby!"
Kurapika jerks his right arm backward to withdraw the Judgment Chain, then dispatches the chain once more. He does this any number of times, effectively stabbing the shallow surface of Chrollo's chest, over and over again. Blood is pooling gradually beneath Chrollo's chair as his wounds gape wider.
Such beauty. What a bewitching display of brutality. With a satisfied sigh, Hisoka resumes whacking off in time to Kurapika's stabbing motions. There's something undeniably . . . phallic about the Stake of Retribution, isn't there? Perhaps Hisoka can convince his boyfriend to pierce him with the Stake the next time they have sex. Sure, the Judgment Chain can only be used in conjunction with Emperor Time, but some sacrifices need to be made in order to attain the pinnacles of pleasure, carnal or otherwise.
These fantasies are cut short when Leorio, of all people, barges inside the cabin. Hisoka stuffs his boner into his pants just before Melody enters behind Leorio. Tch, she probably utilized her amplified hearing sense to assist Leorio in locating this cabin after they discovered the 4th Prince's headless corpse. Is the mission in the king's quarters already over?
While Melody chooses not to intrude further upon the grisly scene, Leorio barrels right between Kurapika and Chrollo. With his back to the chained and severely injured Chrollo, Leorio defensively throws out his arms.
Hisoka huffs in shock. Is Leorio actually shielding Chrollo?
"Stop this, Kurapika," Leorio says, his voice firm.
Kurapika is mottled all over with blood — both the gleaming vermilion and the drying maroon varieties. In all probability, Kurapika's eyes see nothing beyond the crimson mist of bloodlust now. Despite this, the sight of Leorio instantly causes Kurapika to cease his attacks.
Kurapika lowers his right arm. "Stand aside. That bastard behind you is simply accepting the punishment he deserves. I'm acting in the name of justice here."
"No."
"Move. I don't want to hurt you, Leorio."
"You're not going to hurt me. You're physically incapable of hurting me, aren't you?" Leorio grips Kurapika's shoulders, stares deep into his scarlet eyes. "How long have you kept Emperor Time activated? Have you deactivated it even once today? Tell me."
"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now."
Leorio's face crumples, pained, but his voice is as determined as ever. "Of course it fucking matters! I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore! You're not throwing away your life like this, not if I can help it! Deactivate Emperor Time. Do it now."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. This . . . whatever this is, it isn't you in the first place. You're forcing yourself to turn into something you aren't. Don't become the monster you never were."
"You have no idea who or what I am," Kurapika says harshly. "What I've already done."
"How can you even say that? Kurapika, I know you better than anyone. You're my best friend. You're the person I care about most in the world. There are so many things weighing down your heart, but that doesn't mean your heart isn't big. I've seen it. I know there's so much more to you than this. Deep down, you don't want to fight anymore. You don't want to hurt anyone anymore. Not even a Spider like him. So just stop this. You're only hurting yourself now."
After a long pause, Kurapika speaks, his voice soft. "You don't understand. It's already too late for me, Leorio."
"Listen to me. It's never too late for you. Never." Unafraid of the red glare fixed on him, Leorio brushes back Kurapika's blond bangs, then gently bumps their foreheads together. Leorio doesn't break eye contact until, eventually, the vivid scarlet succumbs to a mild brown, and the chains vanish all at once.
Relieved, Leorio pulls Kurapika into a tight embrace. Kurapika hesitates for just a second then reciprocates, wrapping his arms around Leorio's waist.
"Let's get out of here. Okay, Kurapika?"
"Leorio, I. . . ."
Hisoka observes as the two of them stare silently at each other, with Kurapika looking ashamed and Leorio appearing simply confused as Kurapika refuses to move. Hisoka finally volunteers the information that Kurapika has been too proud to admit to anyone else. "Kurapika hasn't fully recovered from his latest stint as an invalid. With Emperor Time deactivated like this, he barely has enough base strength to continue standing up, let alone walk anywhere with you."
Terror crosses Leorio's face, but he manages to stifle his instinct to lecture Kurapika. Without a word, Leorio sweeps up Kurapika in his arms and, carrying him bridal-style, marches out of the cabin. Melody follows them out, closing the door behind her.
Alone with Chrollo again, Hisoka nurses his deep disappointment over this anticlimactic, sputtering stop to the promising momentum of the day's events. Instead of the explosive ending that he was expecting, he's blue-balled yet again by a confrontation between Kurapika and Chrollo. If only that goody two-shoes didn't get involved at such a crucial moment. . . .
"What in the world should I do with you?" Hisoka wonders aloud to Chrollo, who has slumped over his chair, crimson streaming from his mouth and from the smattering of holes over his heart.
"End me," Chrollo groans. "I don't want to be anymore."
Hisoka wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Is this what the revered Danchou has been reduced to in the end? Begging for death?" Hisoka reaches into his pocket for what Kurapika once called an extremely advanced anniversary gift. Hisoka twirls the fountain pen around his long fingers and surveys Chrollo thoughtfully. "As you know, broken toys only bore me. But considering that you've already taken one of my lives before . . . I suppose, just this once, I can return the favor."
With impeccable efficiency, Hisoka drives the fountain pen deep inside Chrollo's skull. The man totters backward and drops to the floor with a massive thud.
Hisoka takes Pairo's head from the table and, for a minute, lets the scarlet eyes stare down at Chrollo's dark ones, lifeless now. "Will you look at that, Pairo? That despicable criminal murdered your family, your friends, and perhaps even you yourself. I feel nothing at all, so will you do me a favor and rejoice on my behalf?"
Unsurprisingly, no one responds. With the most delicate of sighs, Hisoka prepares to exit the cabin. Under his arm, Pairo's head is swathed in a trench coat, still warm, collar and cuffs engulfed in fur.
In a mercifully empty room in the medical ward, as Leorio treats the cuts and bruises on Kurapika's knuckles, Kurapika confesses everything he's done. All the unspeakable crimes that he's committed or facilitated against 4th Prince Tserriednich, against the other princes and their camps, against the members of the Phantom Troupe . . . every secret comes spilling out in front of the one person that he never intended to taint with his darkness.
"I pretended not to know her name, but I did," Kurapika admits. "Machi. That was what she was called. Machi was a part of a family that cared about her, and yet I murdered her in cold blood. And I'm so deeply ashamed of what I've done. All those people I've threatened or tortured or permitted to die or killed with my own hands . . . I regret hurting them. I regret everything."
Once Leorio finishes bandaging Kurapika's hands, he hugs Kurapika tightly once more. He rubs Kurapika's back and quietly listens to the continuing confessions, apologies, confessions, apologies.
When Kurapika finally lapses into silence, Leorio murmurs, "It's okay. It's going to be okay from now on. I'm here. If you forget who you are again, I'll remind you. I'll say it as many times as necessary for the truth to sink in."
Leorio's body is so warm, his voice so gentle, his heartbeat so impossibly soothing . . . that despite all the nightmarish events that have occurred over the past two months — all the horrible things that Kurapika himself has done — Kurapika is beginning to believe what Leorio is telling him. Everything will be okay, and how can it not be, in a world where a person as precious and beautiful as Leorio still exists?
Before Kurapika realizes what he's doing, he's crying against Leorio's chest. Even though he hasn't shed a single tear in seven years, he's sobbing as uncontrollably now as he did as a small child.
Leorio is here. Leorio is holding him. Leorio is keeping all the monsters at bay.
Of course, Leorio, being Leorio — he takes one look at Kurapika's crying face and commences bawling too, at the top of his lungs.
In spite of himself, Kurapika smiles at the familiar sight of Leorio's scrunched-up face. He pats Leorio's cheeks, shining with tears, with his newly bandaged hands. Grumbling in embarrassment over having undermined Kurapika's sorrow with his own, Leorio buries his face in Kurapika's hair. Leorio remains right there, for the time being.
Even though Leorio has successfully reigned in his noisy sobs, Kurapika can still feel his lips trembling, the sticky heat of tears and snot soaking his blond hair. This sloppy, dripping sensation over his head . . . Kurapika can't imagine tolerating this from anyone else in the world, but because it's Leorio, Kurapika loves how it feels. Kurapika loves the way Leorio always embraces him too tightly like this. Kurapika loves —
"I love Leorio, don't I?" Kurapika says, only inside his head. "Haven't I been hopelessly in love with Leorio this whole time? Even though his face must be a mess right now, I wish I could stare at it forever. How can I not adore his face, his body, his strong arms, his pure heart . . . every single part and angle and facet of him?"
Just then, Kurapika hears Pairo's voice inside his head for the first time in weeks. "You've finally stopped lying to yourself, Kurapika? About time! How dense can you possibly be!"
"As dense as you were with me, Pairo," Kurapika mumbles.
"What did you say?" Leorio asks, his lips still pressed against Kurapika's hair.
"It's nothing, Leorio."
Kurapika wishes that he can let Leorio know about his newly confirmed feelings. Kurapika is dying to tell Leorio that he loves him, wants him, wants to date him, wants to hold his hands, wants to kiss each knuckle of his fists, wants to kiss his lips until they're both breathless — Kurapika wants to run from cabin to cabin and implore everyone on this goddamn ship to listen to a litany of every blessed thing that he knows and cherishes about Leorio — but something holds back this deluge of emotions.
