An Amusing Interlude: Part 12: City: In which Kurapika and Quoll take a
break.
By
Deborah (Kosagi) Brown
Hunter X Hunter is copyright Yoshihiro Togashi. Quoll and Kurapika aren't mine more's the pity.
KURAPKIKA:
"Well, well. Stranger in these parts, aren't ya, pretty
boy?"
I take a step backwards, forced further into the blind alley by the group of young men who've half surrounded me. "Leave me alone," I tell them, forcing my tone under control. "Or you'll regret it."
The leader grins broadly. "Will we? Folk here don't care what happens t'strangers." He moves closer, leering, hand reaching out towards me and I prepare to move. "We got it made here. They leave us alone and we leave them alone."
A soft cough behind the group interrupts the festivities. "On the contrary, the good folk of the City have the sense not to interfere with outlanders unless necessary." Quoll wanders onto the scene, practically drifting like a bit of milkweed on a breeze, dark hair hanging loose over the headband he wears to conceal his tattoo. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and his eyes are amused as he glances around the alley way. "However, we take it amiss when outlanders cause trouble that reflects back upon us."
I keep my eyes on the leader, considering my next move and evade when one of the toughs grab for my arm. The piece of chain I was using – in place of my nen created ones – whips out, bashing him upside the head and sending him sprawling. The others react as I hope, turning to see what I'm doing, giving Quoll a chance to pull out his Skill Book and make his move. Only their leader keeps his eyes on my companion and he doesn't move fast enough to avoid the pile of garbage Quoll transfers from behind me and on top of the gang.
Swinging my chain again, I wallop another gang member as he struggles back to his feet. At the same time Quoll is quietly using his benz knife and quick dodges and thrusts to handle another. Within minutes the gang is down and unconscious.
Quoll and I look at each other and if our satisfied expressions mirror each other, it's only natural. This gang had been causing trouble for weeks before our arrival. Trouble that had risked bringing the authorities into Star City. Moreover, the leader had exaggerated a trifle when he'd suggested that he'd been leaving the inhabitants of this place alone. Admittedly it had been relatively minor mischief compared to what they'd been doing to the strangers they'd captured outside the City and dragged in to 'play' with, but even minor mischief was something these close-knit and careful people wouldn't endure long.
Before Quoll can skirt the mound of garbage and refuse – some of it human – a small group of men and women enter the alley and begin doing what they do best. Scavenge. One glances at him and nods. "Dodake, Dancho. Thee und tha tohto, dodake." Quoll nods briefly in return and cocks his head towards the exit, an obvious suggestion that he and I take our leave.
QUOLL:
"What will happen to them?"
I glance sideways at my companion as we pass a market stall, my hand automatically going out to slip an apple into my pocket. He glares at me and I shrug, tossing a coin onto the table as we move on. It can be trying, sometimes, traveling with someone as moralistic as Kurapika. Fun too, but someday I'm going to have to get him to understand that I am a thief after all.
Before Kurapika can ask again, I tell him, "Probably something embarrassing, but not fatal. It's really not a good idea for those in the City to do anything harmful to outsiders. We live on sufferance, after all." If I formed the Genei Ryodan for any reason it was to act as a kind of protection against the outside. The people of the City – in general – preferred to keep their heads low and not make waves, even when they were being oppressed or misused. "The trouble those ahou caused wasn't enough to justify the risks of actually killing them."
Kurapika nods consideringly as I pause to buy some food, putting the wilted vegetables into the sack I'd found earlier and stuffed into a pocket. You never know when something like that can come in handy. "Why did that man call me your little brother?" he asks after another few minutes.
I shrug. In the last few days I'd been teaching Kurapika the rudiments of Star City's main dialect and though I hadn't gotten to the point of familial relationships, my companion had a way of picking up language details as he went. No doubt he'd learned it from someone we'd met on the way. "I've passed the word you're under my protection. Perhaps that's why." To be honest, I'm not sure what the reasoning is and it puzzles me. Not that I particularly mind. "Does it bother you? I can."
"No. It's okay. Just strange. I always wanted a big brother when I was a kid," Kurapika answers quietly. "You're not quite what I would have asked for, but it doesn't bother me either." He doesn't add that it certainly would have two weeks ago, but the last two weeks have shifted alliance pretty thoroughly. His blue eyes glance around us, eying the stalls and eateries that line the edge of the street. "Anyway, how much longer will it be before we get to that place we were going to?"
I continue walking, "Not far. We'll be there before nightfall. I'd give you directions, but I'd rather not risk someone overhearing me." Scanning the street I note that they've made some changes. Several stalls that had been here two months ago are gone. Maryse's husband must have finally drunk up all her profits and Shofa had obviously been close to a breakdown after his children had disappeared. The other stalls look pretty much the same and it is with some relief that I finally spot the one I'm looking for. "First, though, we need to handle another problem."
Kurapika raises a brow and I add, "Unless, of course, you want to have our friends from a week back finding us again already."
KURAPIKA:
I follow Quoll into the tent and sneeze several times as
the incense fills my nostrils. Then I look around as my companion murmurs
"Gedzuntheit." Though the tent is rather large – especially in this place
of impoverished thrift – the interior is close and tight, made so by the
sheer number of things that fill it. Bottles here, emptied and flattened out
soda cans there. Boxes upon boxes, each labeled in the Star City alphabet. A
junk store, but one so carefully laid out that despite the sheer amount of
things I had a feeling it would be easy to find exactly what was needed. The
lighting is surprisingly bright, sunlight streaming in from a series of
openings in the roof.
"Wilcommen. Entre ni." The voice is elderly and rough.
"My companion does not speak our language well, Johan." Quoll makes his way through the maze of stuff, pausing a moment to examine a pile of books. "Oh, I'm glad to see you found this. I meant to ask you about it again."
I frown at my companion. "Is this really the time for browsing?" Honestly, get the man anywhere near a book and he forgets what he's doing.
A deep, rich, chuckle comes from behind a low stack of fabric. "He has always been that way, even as a boy." A thin fragile looking hand, wrinkled and pale beneath a constellation of age spots grasps a piece of polished wood and assists its owner in rising. "Welcome, young sir. Welcome home, boy."
I am instantly reminded of one of my village elders, though he doesn't look particularly like them, except in age. Bald, but for a top knot of pure white hair bound by a piece of metal that I rather suspect of having once been a bottle cap ring. Sunken cheeks and pale watery eyes that peer at the two of us over a pair of thick spectacles. He wears a T-shirt that proclaims him a "foxy lady" and a pair of jeans several times too big for his skinny legs. The latter are tied around his waist with a piece of rope and his bare, broad feet stick out from under the faded blue fabric, gnarled toes curled against the fabric of the felted carpet.
"It's good to see you too, Johan." Quoll moves out of the way and lets his friend take a seat on one of the steadier piles of junk. "This is Kurapika. He is Kurota."
The pale eyes turn to look me over consideringly. "One who has come to terms, it seems. Or he would not be so calm at your side. Nor would you have brought him here otherwise." He bows his head slightly to me. "Well enough. Yet you have not come here merely to socialize, nor to look for a book that you have only minor interest in. What need have you? Or is it Kurapika whose needs must be fulfilled?"
I glance at Quoll, waiting for him to answer. I can guess at his plan, if not at the specifics and rather suspect that much of his silence has been due to the lack of privacy we've had in the last few days. There were, quite simply, too many people around to discuss anything.
"We need a shield. Something to conceal us from someone searching for our specific nen. Can it be done?"
The old man frowns. "It will cost. To find someone with the right nen will take time and"
With a chuckle, Quoll finishes, "time is money."
QUOLL:
I open my zetsu sense as wide as possible, making
certain the only life forms in the area are myself, Kurapika and the various
wee beasties that live throughout the ruins of the city. Beside me, I can feel
Kurapika doing the same and we nod at each other briefly before I push through
an opening in the fallen masonry that I know doesn't look wide enough to permit
someone passage. "We'll have to crawl," I say a minute later, dropping to my
knees in front of the passage.
"I hope this isn't the only way in or out of the place," Kurapika mutters. "I'd hate to get stuck here if we had to run." He pulls off his outer tunic and folds it up, putting it away in his bag.
Raising a brow I ask, "What do you think?"
He's silent a moment as we work our way past several sharp rocks and into the passage itself, then says. "Good."
The rest of our crawl we're too busy trying to get through without hurting ourselves, so conversation is limited to my warning him of hidden dangers. At last, however, we come out into a brightly lit open area. Sunlight streams through the wreckage of the building surrounding us, casting deep shadows and almost blinding after the darkness of the passageway.
"This used to be a shopping complex, before the city was destroyed in the earthquake." I gesture at the shattered roof, "I think this was the food court."
Kurapika gazes around, looking at the broken signs and nods agreement as I walk up a set of makeshift stairs. There used to be a second level to the mall, but most of it had been ruined. Only one shop had managed to remain – mostly – undamaged and I'd immediately claimed it for my own when I'd found it. Passing under the sign saying "" I push back the cloth covering the doorway, then the other draperies over what had once been glassed in windows showing the shop's merchandise.
"Quoll. I don't think you have enough books." Kurapika stands at the entrance and stares into the room with a raised and sardonic brow. His eyes move from shelf to shelf as he examines their contents with a mildly amused expression. Paperbacks, hardbacks, every book I've been able to get my hands on, all carefully shelved. Stacks upon stacks in shelves so tall that you need a ladder to reach the higher ones. In the darkness, the colored spines of the paperbacks are muted, but it's still possible to see just how big the room is and just how many books it contains. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though. Where else would you hide out but in an abandoned bookstore?"
I grin at him. "I'd have more books if someone hadn't left them behind two weeks ago," I point out, leading the way into the back rooms of the shop, where there was a makeshift kitchen and sleeping area. As I enter, I start lighting the lamps, covering them quickly to keep the breeze that flows through the building from blowing out the flame. There are no windows in this part of the building, but there are huge cracks everywhere.
"I'd have been there all night." Kurapika's tone is ironic as he helps me light the room and brushes dust off a chair so he can sit down. I haven't been in the place for a month, more than enough time to allow far too much to collect. "So, what now?"
"We'll have to wait for Johan to find a nen user to help us with our one problem. In the meantime, though." I go to a cabinet and open it, fighting down the surge of panic that doing so always creates in me. Inside are cylinder after cylinder of scrolls. The accumulated knowledge of Kurapika's tribe, all carefully noted down and all nearly impossible for me to read without risking awakening things I can't control. "I'll fix supper," I tell Kurapika and can hear the tense note in my voice as I speak. "The notebooks on the bottom shelf contain the other information you wanted."
Kurapika gazes at the scrolls and notebooks for a long moment, then searches around the room for a quiet corner, pushing his chair over. "All right," he agrees. "Let me know when it's ready."
KURAPIKA:
Quoll spins and rolls under my attack as the chain in my
hand whips around the piece of wood he's found to defend himself. I do a
spinning kick that narrowly misses his chin while I tug his weapon free of his
hands. His hand comes up, jarring my wrist and knocking me sideways. Damn,
he's fast.
An opening presents itself but I know him too well to trust such an obvious chance. I feint, pretending to be taken in, then corkscrew downwards, intending to dodge below the only defense he could offer such a move and find myself being grabbed by the ankle and sent sprawling.
My chain whips around his wrist though, more by chance than actual intent, and we end up in a heap at the foot of the wreckage, bruised and aching. At least I am.
"Ow." Quoll's voice confirms that he took a fair amount of abuse from our tumble as well. "Good save."
"Not really," I disagree. "The chain got you by accident."
With a laugh, Quoll rolls to his feet and brushes himself off. "And since when was chance not a valid part of fighting. Never underestimate the value of luck, both good and bad."
I'm sour as I rise and wrap my chain around my waist. "As long as you don't depend on it." I look at him, seeing the pure enjoyment in his eyes. He's having entirely too much fun. Like a big kid. Sometimes I have to wonder which of us is really the older. I wonder too, considering the kind of life he's led, how he can possibly take life in stride so easily.
Quoll climbs up to where we left our lunch and gets a bottle of water, tossing it to me after taking a large gulp. "Feeling better now?" he asks. I'd needed this more than he had, really, having spent the last three days poring over the oldest of my people's texts and those infernal notebooks. I'd been rather relieved when he'd proposed a workout.
I nod, sipping thoughtfully at my water. "I only wish I could talk to you about what I found," I say finally. Most of the scrolls simply recorded important events, births, deaths, marriages and the like. A goodly number, however, detailed some of my people's philosophies. The precepts I'd been raised on. Precepts that didn't sit well with what had happened to Quoll and his Spider when they'd come to visit.
Only there was one thread throughout the texts that made the Elders' reaction understandable. A prophecy by one whose prophecies had seldom failed. A promise that a half-blood would be the end of the Kurota clan. I remembered old Marva's explanation of the schism between her people and mine. The fears that had forced my ancestors to hide.
Nothing I'd found in my people's texts, however, really answered the question of who and what Quoll was and I'd finally set them aside in favor of the notebooks. Ream upon ream of computer printouts, written in a more modern language and printed much more clearly. Even so, it was taking me much longer to decipher what they were saying. I wipe sweat from my face, watching Quoll's face and add, "I'm beginning to think science is a language in and of itself."
Quoll chuckles. "Well, it is, really. There's a story where people learn to translate a dead alien race's texts using their science journals." At my expression, he grins. "Sorry. I suppose you aren't very interested in talking literature." Climbing down, he adds, "But I can talk to you about the printouts now that we're here. It's the scrolls I can't handle. The notebooks are a bit easier. They're just dry facts – they don't feel like people to me. Not the way the scrolls do."
From the way his voice shakes I can see that those scrolls really do give him a lot of trouble and I wonder why he keeps them. At my frown he seems to guess the question and adds, "I keep hoping to find a way to clear out what's stuck in here." He points at his forehead and gives me a rueful look.
I nod and quickly shift subject back to the notebooks. Not because I don't want to talk about his problem but because I don't have a solution and – more importantly – because we're treading a minefield every time we do. The one thing I don't want to do is set him off until he's trained to deal with his ability. Training I can't give him until we've found a way to protect ourselves from our enemies. "All right, I think I understand that there was some sort of breeding program going on. What I don't understand is why."
Quoll hands me a sandwich and sits down on a piece of broken wall, gazing consideringly off at nothing. "What is the purpose of any breeding program?" he asks. "Improvement of the species."
"Oh yeah?" I shake my head. "What kind of improvement of the species is something that goes berserk everytime it uses its ability?" I'm not sure why I said that. Somehow the whole thing seems an insult, both to my people and to whomever else was used to create Quoll. Not to mention the twelve other 'samples' they bred.
A wry smile crosses Quoll's face. "Still some bugs in the system, I guess." He shrugs and bites into his lunch, chewing thoughtfully. "It's not like I defend what they were doing. I certainly would be much happier without their little 'improvements'. On the other hand, it's fairly certain I wouldn't exist if they hadn't been fooling around, so I can't be entirely ungrateful. I'm rather attached to being alive, after all."
I can't help but raise a brow and give him a disbelieving look. "You certainly didn't seem to value your life a month ago." It's hard to reconcile his statement with the calm with which he faced death. Did he really know I wouldn't kill him? Or just believe it so firmly that he couldn't be scared?
Quoll's gaze meets mine, dark eyes level and completely serious in a way that I seldom see from him these days. "It's precisely because I value my life that I was ready to give it up," he tells me. "If my life had no value it would have scarcely been much of an exchange for my Spiders, now would it?"
His calm statement shakes me entirely, particularly since I realize that – on some subconscious level – that I'd known that to be the case already. My mind flashes back to that night, to my berserk rage and the deep understanding that he was sacrificing himself for his friends. He knew. He meant me to take him and I knew it. Knew it and hated him for it. If it hadn't been for Leorio, if not for the fact that my own friends meant more to me than even my vengeance, I would have become something utterly repugnant, even to myself. Would have become something far worse than the Spider.
My expression must show my thoughts, for Quoll continues, "Kurapika. It didn't happen. You stepped back from that edge. It's over and it's done."
Before I can open my mouth to speak, another voice interrupts. "Over and done? The hell it is!"
We turn and look up at the man standing amid the wreckage across from us. Medium height, with a carefully trimmed goatee and mustache. He wears a simple robe and carries a katana. As I stare blankly at him, Quoll rises and moves to stand between the two of us. "Nobunaga."
To Be Continued
(Bows deeply and apologetically) The dog ate my homework er I mean I came over all dead.
More specifically, September has been the month of the Cold That Will Not Die. This has resulted in a complete lack of inspiration that has ensured I can only write really angsty stuff. (Never let a partially lobotomized psycho into your cast of characters unless you enjoy the havoc he'll create.) In any case, I finally managed to move the plot forward – more talking heads this time – and next episode should (I hope hope hope) be coming out much sooner. (winces).
Anyway
XD: The art is Grand Grand Grand. It catches Quoll and Kurapika's personalities so beautifully. I'd like to set up an area on my website to put it, if you wouldn't mind?
Yukitsu: Run on sentences are probably one of my worst writing habits. Except if I don't do them that way I end up with sentence fragments. I just can't win. Re: Sucking eggs. This may be a purely western proverb. It's saying don't tell someone how to do what they already know how to do. (Don't ask me exactly how the phrase came about, though. No clue.)
Shinomori: I'm not sure if Quoll's so much gone soft as become deeply stressed by the events of the last two weeks. He's gone from being under Kurapika's geas, and Kurapika's enemy, to finding himself and Kurapika becoming friends. He's been forced to remember really traumatic stuff and had his mind and Kurapika's entangled up with each other and he's just discovered that he isn't even quite what he thought he was. I hope to show him rebalancing in the next episode.
Lynlyn: The link is generally good for the two of them but there are still those dark nasty little feelings they have over their pasts that come out when they're dreaming. It creates a feedback effect that means they're not going to be able to sleep at the same time without risking hurting each other. The Kal, having sensitives about, were able to pick up on that and Marva simply didn't want Quoll and Kurapika's issues to affect her clan.//See my comment to Yukitsu about the sucking eggs. I'm just going to have to remember that some proverbs aren't readily recognizable on an international level.//I was soooo tempted to find a way to include the Wife in the story somehow, but decided that it wouldn't be worth the trouble. I'm rather glad to see she's gone, though.
Shaoli: I'll probably have an explanation for Ubo's apparent ignorance of what happened to the Kurota in the next episode, so stay tuned. As for why Quoll and the others can kill outsiders – the point I got from his statement is that it's much easier to kill someone you don't know and have no emotional ties with than someone you know. A point I've been trying to keep in the story, in fact, is that the Spider is tied together by bonds that are exceedingly important to all of them.//Don't worry about how long you keep the fic in your favorites. I don't often bother looking at that because while I want people to enjoy the work, I want to write without worrying over whether or not they do.
Sylphmuse: Thanks! I explained my use of Quoll a while back. I'll note too, that it seems to be considered a valid spelling on some sites, so it was just a matter of choosing something that worked for me. Anyway, I hope to be updating again sometime in November.
