Chapter 6

The afternoon sun bears down upon them with a vengeance as Kuroro guides him through unpaved roads and rubbish mounds smoldering beneath the intense heat. Despite not leaving Kuroro's apartment for long, the putrid stench rising in the air is beginning to make Kurapika feel ill. They follow a path towards the outskirts of the city, keeping to its less populated streets but more suspect alleyways. If Meteor City is dangerous at its best, its backstreets are even worse.

Kurapika senses hunger from the people lingering in the darkness. They search his face for evidence of inexperience as they impede his passage, only stepping aside when Kuroro intends to pass through. Rather than paying him deference, it seems that they know better than to provoke Kuroro. Even at his young age, Kuroro's reputation has reached even the most obscure parts of the city.

Overhead, the outdoor staircases from the apartment buildings tighten the space around them. Kurapika follows closely behind Kuroro, more closely than he would prefer, as they navigate around unconscious bodies and scavengers searching through the discarded trash. The narrow alleyways eventually fall behind them and give way to a vast landscape of ruined buildings. An impenetrable blood-orange smog drapes over the district, obscuring his visibility of the structures in the distance.

Even with the lapel of his suit jacket pulled over his face, Kurapika struggles not to cough whenever he breathes. He managed well enough yesterday, but somehow, his airways are finding it more difficult today. Smoke and dust settle over his hair, his face, and even the black fabric of his suit, clinging onto him like a second skin.

A sudden wind carries the stench of human waste and decomposing garbage across their path. Meteor City's miasma continues its inhumation, seeping into his lungs and his bones. It may as well be draining his lifeforce.

Soon enough, a cough escapes him.

Kuroro's movements slow, and then still when he realizes that Kurapika has fallen behind him.

Kuroro looks back at him with an expression of faint concern. "Are you alright?"

Kurapika is hunched over, his fingernails digging into his knees, nearly leaving marks in the fabric of his trousers. His eyes sting with the threat of tears.

Drawing in a futile breath, he composes himself and nods. As much as he tries to summon a response, no words leave his desiccated throat.

As Kuroro braves the harsh environment without faltering, there is no doubt that Nen users possess an advantage here. Those unable to protect themselves are left to wither and die in the dust. The decay festers beneath his skin, and Kurapika needs to get rid of it. After remaining in a passive state since the previous day, he releases his aura. A protective cocoon of warmth engulfs his entire body, mitigating the consequences of the poisoned air and allowing him to breathe again.

It takes a moment to pull himself back together. As the tightness in his chest eases, he can breathe without the weight smothering his lungs. He should have done this sooner.

When he catches up to him, Kuroro deliberately falls into step beside him.

While walking alongside Kuroro, Kurapika realizes the absence of height disparity between them. From what he remembers, Kuroro always stood above him—only now they're on equal ground. Despite their similarities in stature, he frowns at how oversized the clothes he borrowed from Kuroro were.

Kurapika expects more questions from him, but only silence rests between them. Perhaps he's considerate enough to allow Kurapika to catch his breath instead of forcing him to speak.

If Kuroro notices him staring, he doesn't make his awareness known.

They traverse the landscape, only coming to a stop in front of what appears to be an abandoned church. Rather than resembling an impressive cathedral or basilica, the towering stone edifice is verging on structural collapse. With a metallic creaking sound, Kuroro pushes the rusted door open and leads him inside.

In the corner of the entrance, a lone spider spins its web. Before the familiar scarlet can reach his eyes, Kurapika averts his gaze and follows Kuroro inside.

He breathes in deeply, finding some reprieve from the dust and smog outside. The air smells stagnant and musty, but he catches the faintest hint of incense, as if a ceremony had been held earlier in the day. Kuroro had mentioned they laid their fallen comrade to rest, after all.

Stillness reigns inside the sanctuary, broken by the sound of their footsteps on shattered glass. The stained glass windows around them are all smashed, allowing faint daylight to permeate the darkness of the congregation area. Votive candles are burning with offerings for the dead, lighting the way like fireflies as Kurapika accompanies Kuroro further down the aisle. The candlelight flickers across Kuroro's youthful face, lending his pale features the illusion of color, as if making him mortal to greet his faithful followers.

Eight Spiders are awaiting them on the steps of the altar, their solemn forms shrouded in funerary wear. Pakunoda. Machi. Kortopi. Feitan. Franklin. Phinks. Nobunaga. Uvogin.

Three appear to be missing. Perhaps Kuroro hasn't recruited them yet or they have yet to arrive.

Behind the altar, the chancel window is the only intact stained glass pane in the sanctuary, bathing their features in a kaleidoscope of light. Their cold eyes appraise him, as if belonging to statues of impassive saints guarding a place of worship. Kurapika has grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of disdainful stares. This time is no different.

The Spiders maintain their distance from him. Only Kortopi comes forward to meet him, wrapping his arms around his leg. "Mister Kurapika!"

Kurapika has a moment of hesitation, before patting him on the head. It seems that Kuroro already told him his name. "You can just call me Kurapika."

"Kurapika," Kortopi repeats shyly. He clings onto Kurapika's pants with his small hands, and for some inexplicable reason, Kurapika lets him even when he should be pushing him away. "I'm Kortopi."

Kurapika rests his hand against Kortopi's silver hair. "Hello again."

Pakunoda folds her arms beneath the swell of her chest. "You're late, Danchou."

"My apologies. We were having breakfast," Kuroro explains, earning the incredulous stares of his companions. Without elaborating further, he turns to face Kurapika. "My informant Shalnark hasn't returned yet, so we'll have this meeting without him."

"Did something happen?" Pakunoda casts a wary glance at Kurapika. She descends the steps to approach them, her heels clacking against the wooden floor. "Is everything alright?"

Kuroro smiles as if he doesn't know why that wouldn't be the case. "Yes?"

There's an undeniable closeness between them, because Pakunoda reaches out, gently touching where Kuroro's black eye is still visible against his pale skin. A bruise that wasn't present when Kuroro convened with his members earlier.

Pakunoda's lips press into a worried frown. What she says next is inconceivable.

"You can always rely on us if you're having a problem with your boyfriend."

A violent cough seizes Kurapika. Witnessing their leader with a newfound injury must be suspicious—but somehow, they're under the impression that Kuroro is a victim of domestic abuse, and himself, the perpetrator.

They aren't wrong about the latter, but how long are they going to misunderstand his relationship with Kuroro? And why is he the one at fault?

Kuroro blinks in confusion. He takes her wrist and moves her hand away. "I appreciate the concern, but Kurapika isn't my boyfriend."

Despite speaking truth to their situation, Pakunoda doesn't seem to believe him. Her protectiveness makes sense, because she has correctly discerned that Kurapika harmed Kuroro even if she doesn't understand why.

"So he's your sugar daddy?"

"What," Kuroro and Kurapika say at the same time.

Neither of them share the embarrassment that boys their age would have at the idea of being involved together. Kurapika doesn't know if he still has the capacity to choke. But if he weren't in more control of himself, the words leaving his mouth would have been what the fuck?

"He looks too nice to be from around these parts," Machi elaborates upon seeing their incredulity. Her cool gaze assesses Kurapika from head to toe, focusing on the tailored lines of his suit. Even though the rest of the Spiders are similarly dressed in formalwear, there's a visible difference in the material and fit of Kurapika's attire, apparent through the eyes of a skilled seamstress. "We could use the funding."

As Kuroro mentioned earlier, wealthy men searching for vulnerable companions is a common occurrence in Meteor City. Being associated with men like Nasubi Hui Guo Rou undoubtedly makes him feel unpleasant.

A heavy hand clasps Kurapika on the shoulder, and he suppresses the instinctive urge to flinch. He should be more cautious, because if it were Pakunoda who touched him, he would have revealed everything about his existence here.

"He doesn't smell like money," comes a familiar voice beside him. "But he smells like you, Danchou."

Kurapika looks up, ignoring the insinuation about his relationship with Kuroro.

Seeing Uvogin this close makes his heart pound painfully in his chest. His face is considerably younger and his hair is coiled instead of fanning around his face in a mane, different from the monster in his nightmares. The Uvogin here isn't one of his clan's murderers—at least not yet.

A wave of nausea washes over Kurapika with the memory of his first kill. The sound of bone splintering beneath his hands and the smell of blood in the air still remain with him despite the years that have passed. Even now, the phantom tang of blood lingers at the back of his throat.

Uvogin's pleading echoes in his mind. Kill me, kill me, kill me. His last words before his imprisoned heart was crushed by his chains—

Go to Hell.

Kurapika exhales slowly, trying to steady the frantic beating of his heart. He slaps the offending hand away from his shoulder. "Don't touch me."

"What's his problem?" Uvogin looks at him disparagingly, despite staring into the eyes of his future murderer. Kurapika doesn't bother pretending to be friendly with people he neither cares for nor respects. "Danchou, are you sure you want him to join us? He looks like a weakling."

The Uvogin he remembers is a corpse buried in an unmarked grave. If their circumstances force him to, Kurapika knows he can kill him again.

Machi continues regarding him with her cold and steady stare. "He must be strong if he can land a clean hit on Danchou."

But Uvogin doesn't seem convinced. "That doesn't mean anything—"

"In a fight between you two," Kuroro calmly interrupts, glancing at Kurapika with a strange interest, "I wouldn't know who would win."

Kurapika keeps his expression blank under their scrutiny. Kuroro's words leave him stunned, but he doesn't know if Kuroro actually believes in his strength or if he's only trying to appeal to him.

"Danchou!" Uvogin's voice echoes throughout the sanctuary. Kurapika finds his presence too overwhelming, his voice much too loud. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Don't tell me you're taking his side!"

"I'm not taking anyone's side." Kuroro smiles humorlessly, his unreadable grey eyes reflecting different colors in the prismatic light. "But enough, I want you all to meet Kurapika properly. He's neither my partner nor my benefactor as you seem to be thinking—" Machi shrugs her shoulders. "But he's someone who might become our new teammate."

He introduces his companions to Kurapika one by one. Unlike the Spiders who rarely remember the people they have killed, Kurapika remembers all of their names and faces. Out of all the members, Machi and Feitan are the most apathetic to his presence, remaining aloof to the idea of him joining them. Similarly, Franklin and Phinks are regarding Kurapika carefully instead of questioning Kuroro's leadership. Pakunoda leads Kortopi away by the hand to purposefully distance him, despite his willingness to remain by Kurapika's side.

Nobunaga barely acknowledges him despite being the subject of their discussion. "What makes you think we would accept him?"

"I'm not asking you to."

Nobunaga doesn't flinch at the coldness in Kuroro's tone, but his shoulders tense at the sudden pressure from Kuroro's aura. The air is so heavy and oppressive that it steals Kurapika's breath, reinforcing that Kuroro's decision is meant to be unquestioned.

Still, Nobunaga doesn't retreat in the face of unspoken consequences. His hands are clenched at his sides, slightly shaking. "How could you recruit a new member so quickly? Without even asking us?"

Kurapika isn't bothered by the opposition to his membership.

They're upset that their former companion is being replaced so easily. Kuroro might be the Spider's head, but not accounting for the limbs while making an important decision seems like a mistake—potentially why mistakes like Hisoka were allowed to happen. The strange atmosphere between them makes Kurapika feel like a stepfather whom Kuroro is shamelessly introducing to his children—only a day after their parent died.

"We need to be prepared to pursue Silva Zoldyck's client. If we found a new member tomorrow or months from now, the number eight position was going to be replaced regardless," Kuroro explains. "Am I wrong, Nobunaga?"

"It's only been a day," Nobunaga tells him, his voice pained with grief and betrayal. Kuroro's gaze makes it clear that he will not tolerate his insubordination any longer.

Judging by his reaction, this must be the first time that they're replacing a Spider. Kurapika is aware of the camaraderie between the members, but he still finds it strange to see them with such humanity.

"How can we trust him when he showed up right after number eight died?" Phinks asks as Nobunaga lapses into a displeased silence.

"Well," Kuroro says, pausing for a long moment and considering his words carefully, "I think it might be fate."

Kurapika lets out an unexpected snort.

All of their eyes land on him, their suspicions refusing to abate.

"Because he helped us twice," Kortopi says, breaking out of Pakunoda's grasp and coming to his defense again. Kurapika assumes that the first time must have been when he saved Kortopi. "And he's a lot nicer than you, Phinks!"

As Phinks rises to his feet with a threatening glare, Kortopi hides behind Pakunoda's leg.

"I'm not blindly recruiting Kurapika," Kuroro explains to reassure his members. "Since he hasn't earned his membership by killing one of us, he'll need to fight me for a place on our team. I'm certain you'll all be convinced once you see his abilities."

His gaze speaks of his unfounded expectations, but Kurapika wonders what will happen if he isn't so impressive. Surely Kuroro will try to steal his Nen before allowing him to leave.

Uvogin cracks his knuckles loudly. "Why don't you let me fight him?"

"No," Kuroro says, striking him down. "As part of our agreement, I'll be the one to fight Kurapika. Isn't that right?"

As Kuroro turns to face him, his alabaster features enlivened by the candlelight, Kurapika falls into a contemplative silence. Kuroro stands against the stained glass background ornamented with the Son of God nailed to the cross, his head encircled in a corona of light. In a place abandoned by faith, he awaits the resurrection of his fallen Spider. Kurapika finds the juxtaposition of these two images to be jarring.

"That's right," Kurapika answers.

Satisfied, Kuroro goes over to where Machi is sitting on the steps. "A hair tie, if you please."

Machi blinks up at him in mild annoyance. "Another one?"

Pulling the turquoise ribbon from her hair, she releases her fuschia hair over her shoulders and passes the cloth over to Kuroro.

"Thank you," Kuroro says with a small smile. He unsheathes the Benz knife at his hip and ties the ribbon against the handle, before raising the blade towards Kurapika. "As part of the assessment, I want you to steal this hair tie from me before sundown. You can use whatever means necessary to do so. If you succeed, I'll grant you one of your requests if you choose not to join us. But if I win, you'll become my Spider as promised."

Stealing from a master thief.

Kurapika supposes that it's more appropriate than having to beat the living daylights out of Kuroro, but also more troublesome. Although that doesn't mean he's going to abstain from doing so either.

"Alright," Kurapika answers with clear confidence, "I accept your challenge."

Notes:

Hello, it's been a while. I hope that you've been staying safe and healthy in the past year.

Life has been busy but I was happy to see so many readers interested in this story. I hope that you like this quick update too. :')

The next chapter will have more action, but I need a little help with Kuroro's Nen abilities so feel free to let me know if you have any ideas or headcanons about his stolen abilities.

I'm hoping to update sooner this time. I'm also planning on updating my other two time travel fics soon so you can expect those updates as well.

Please leave a comment! I would love to know what you think about this chapter.

You can also reach out to me on Twitter (ryuuseigai) or Tumblr (seiyuna).