(A/N: Oh wow, Kurapika's only ever in character when he's around the other main four who woulda thought. Leorio, stop winning the love triangle game that's not how it works.)

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Chapter Nine:

The Consort's Festival (Part Four)

His face stung a bit from the lemon juice, and he felt an itching sensation in his fingers to rub it off, but the middle-aged leader of the maids slapped his hands away before they could so much as brush against the skin of his cheeks.

"Be patient, Kurapika-nim," she said. "It's important not to dilute the mixture with the oil in your hands. Otherwise, it won't work as well."

"My apologies," said Kurapika, placing his hands back on his stomach, letting Kiya tug back his hair.

"Honestly," the leader tilted his chin back, his neck bending at an unnatural angle. "If you hadn't been late, we'd have more time to do this, but drastic times call for drastic measures. Part your lips a bit?" He did so. They smeared some velvet product across lips, leaving them stained pink. She began to pat his face with rose water, simultaneously removing the stinging lemon mixture.

All of them were on edge due to his tardiness, though most hid it well. The leader didn't bother to hide her disapproval. It was nothing compared to Mother's anger, cold and scarring. Crimson nails would bite into his chin, leaving marks or trails of blood. She never did any lasting damage, mostly due to the nature of his work as a courtesan, but she knew how to make things hurt.

Kiya began weaving silver thread in his hair, gentle despite her own nerves. "Where'd Pairo-nim run off to?"

"Basho came for him," Kurapika replied. With Leorio. That must be quite a party. That familiar sense of loneliness swelled in his throat as Kurapika gazed down at the skin of his wrist.

"Meet us at the food tent. By the desserts, okay? We'll show you what a real festival looks like. And we'll make sure to keep the freaks off you," Leorio had said, meaning one freak in particular. His hand hung loosely around his wrist, a grin on his face, in his green eyes.

He let the gold cuff of his sleeve fall over it.

Why did it feel like he was falling harder?

. . .

"Did you enjoy your trip to the library?" Paku asked. She had surprised him at the door, wearing a glossy purple hanbok with green-eyed forget-me-nots climbing up her skirt. The candles had been newly lit around them, flames casting gold shadows. Outside, the sun was minutes away from setting.

Kurapika pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "It was enlightening. Kakin's politics are intriguing."

"Are you planning on marrying one of them next?"

She was joking, he knew, but that didn't stop the suspicion from showing in the set of his shoulders. "Old enemies are our best teachers, as they say."

"Do they?"

"No, I suppose not."

Paku laughed. If it was genuine, Kurapika refused to acknowledge so. They walked out of the Consort's Palace, the humidity nearly suffocating. From where they stood, the paper lanterns took the shape of stars, lifted up on strings. The Emperor awaited them on the immaculate steps of the Throne Hall. Across the lake, people were already swarming the tents, the scent of honey and lotus paste spreading across the grounds.

"You're not wrong," Paku said. Though she was speaking to him, her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. "There are few people in the world who know us as well as our enemies. Our weaknesses, especially. They do all they can to exploit them. It's cruel, wouldn't you say?"

If she suspected something, she certainly wasn't being subtle about it. Why would she be asking such questions? To throw him off? To convince him he was in the wrong? Doubts had always been his worst enemy.

"The Emperor," she began, "does not have enemies. At least, that's what he likes to say. I always wondered why he thought that way. By my count, his enemies are tenfold. But he's never acknowledged any of them as his foes. Do you know why that is?"

Kurapika was tempted to believe it was pure arrogance. The Emperor could envision anyone as being of the same caliber, and therefore never accepted the idea of an enemy. It wasn't enough. It was too simple for someone like the Emperor. The twisting labyrinth of his psyche couldn't be pinned down by a superiority complex.

"I'm starting to," Pakunoda continued, for she knew it was too early for him to know. "None of them understand his weaknesses. How can they even hope to be more than obstacles, if they do not understand how to make him fall to his knees."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kurapika asked. He could see the Emperor now, his face turned away as he discussed something with Shalnark.

"I don't know." Pakunoda's expression softened. "I have hope, I suppose. Kuroro has been through a lot. Is it too much to ask for at least one thing to go well for him?"

Kuroro.

No one had ever spoken his full name before. Kurapika had almost forgotten he had one. It was probably for the better. Names created attachment and attachment bred brittle resolves.

"Again?" the Emperor sighed, staring down at them from the top of the steps. He leaned against the banister now, arms crossed.

"I was fine yesterday," Pakunoda said, placing a hand on Kurapika's shoulder. "Besides, if I wasn't there, who would keep your darling consort company?"

The Emperor descended the steps and offered a hand to Kurapika. "You're being reckless." Kurapika slipped his hand into his, and then he was being led down the red carpet to the Pavilion.

"Aren't we all?"

. . .

They were seated back in the same crimson throne, with platters of cream-filled pastries circulating around the Pavilion. Kurapika was content with sitting back this time, though Leorio's words still lingered, managing to block out much of the surrounding voices as Kurapika fought back the urge to search the crowd for him.

"I would offer you a little more freedom to enjoy the festivities," Chrollo said, "but under the circumstances, I have to take precautions."

"Don't worry, I have no desire to have our paths collide once more." Kurapika took an amber honey cake off one of the platters. A chrysanthemum had been carved into it. He thanked the servant, though he wasn't particularly fond of sweets. His fingers gripped the edges, and the cake broke in two, a few crumbs falling to his lap. He offered one of the halves to the Emperor, who gave him a look of skepticism. "What?"

"You can't expect me to not be slightly suspicious when my self-proclaimed assassin has given me something purely out of the goodness of his heart."

Kurapika rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't do it in front of all these people. Sweets have never sat well with me."

"Why did you take one of the sweetest dishes we have to offer then?"

Kurapika stiffened and averted his gaze, something akin to embarrassment coiling in his stomach. The servant passing out the treats continued to do so, now lingering near Shalnark and Machi. Shalnark took three at once and got a smile from the servant girl. "I just felt it was a nice thing to do."

"She reminded you of someone you're fond of," the Emperor said. "Your mother?"

How did he see through him so easily? Kurapika knew he was a better actor than that, and yet, the Emperor managed to grasp everything. "Honey cakes were her favorite to make." The dough began to stick to his fingers. "I always hated them." But she'd laugh anyway, even though she'd spend days perfecting her creations. He never minced words with them. What would they say if they knew all he'd sacrificed now. His dreams, his chastity, his friends. Would they blame themselves, or would they enjoy seeing him like this if it meant the Emperor's demise. He had to believe the latter.

The second half of the cake vanished, leaving his hand warm and gummy. "You're terrible at masking your emotions."

"I sometimes doubt you have any," he snapped back.

The Emperor sighed, though it bordered on a chuckle. "I suppose that's my own doing. Who knows? Perhaps I don't feel emotions the way most do."

Kurapika scoffed at his fickle reasoning, turning away from the Emperor and his ruthlessly elegant way of eating. He only realized someone had approached them when the whispers started. A bald man in a soldier's uniform had leaned down to murmur something in the Emperor's ear.

"Right now?"

The man nodded.

"Very well," the Emperor said, his voice turning tired, "let them in." His gaze fixed on Kurapika, cheeky again. He leaned down to whisper, "A stroke of luck, my Prince. Go find your friend. I'll keep them here as long as I can."

"I wish you'd stop that," Kurapika muttered. He stood, though, and took the soldier's cloak.

"You can't think of me as a monster for all eternity, my Prince. That's where they all get caught up," the Emperor replied, following him to the dimmest edge of the platform. Kurapika tied the cloak around himself. "Be careful." They were close now, as the Emperor slid the hood of the cloak up over his head. He leaned in as if to kiss his forehead. "Go back to your room and change clothes. We can't have any half-baked disguises this time. If one of his men spot you-they wear eagles-have your friends speak for you and feign illness."

"You seem quite intent on this," Kurapika whispered, eyes shutting close as the Emperor's lips pressed to his temple. A familiar wave of disgust and lust welled inside of him, but he pushed it down. It was becoming easier now, but there was always that initial onslaught.

"Of course, your affiliation with a brothel won't do me any favors," the Emperor said. His stance turned thoughtful. "Though perhaps a part of me desires your safety as well."

Kurapika would have to add his lack of self-awareness to the list of possible weaknesses.

. . .

He watched him leave, disappearing between the Emperor's Quarters and the Consort's Palace, the drab brown cloak concealing him from prying eyes in the encroaching darkness. His Prince was proving to be more troublesome than previously thought, and yet, Kuroro could hardly believe his own luck. Not only was the boy intriguing, but he also held the key to getting rid of Tserriednich once and for all.

"You're looking cheerful." Paku stood behind him, leaning against one of the stone columns.

"What can I say? I'm a man in love," Kuroro said, shrugging as he moved past her.

"Liar," Paku drawled, sipping on a glass of champagne.

Kuroro eyed her, cynical. "Don't drink too much. I'm not about to carry you to Cheadle's office." She downed the glass just to spite him. Why must he be surrounded by such petty blondes?

Hanzo still stood next to his throne, awaiting his orders, though it was clear he hated sitting still. He'd make better use of him on the battlefield.

"Bring them here," Kuroro said. "We'll talk on our way to the Throne Hall."

There were five Hui Guo Ruos who'd come to greet him, undoubtedly the rest didn't bother with formalities. Nasubi, and his four eldest children, all dressed in traditional Kakin attire. Camilla was the most heavily ornamented, her clothing layered in expensive fabrics of only the most difficult dyes to produce. Her dull blonde hair heavy with pins and hair clips, the woman had dressed as if she were one of his consorts, being put on display for the whole country to devour. If Camilla had taken it upon herself to outshine all others, Benjamin had taken it upon himself to not put in any effort at all. He wore a formal navy hanbok, but it was no more extravagant than what he'd worn when Kuroro had been ambushed by him and his men. The message was clear. Kuroro might be royalty, but he remained on a lower pedestal than Benjamin. Zhang Lei gazed up at him with rectangular eyes, resembling a Kakin monk down to his taste in shoes.

Tserriednich was smiling, but Kuroro could sense the bloodlust clinging to him.

He'd humor him for now. The Hui Guo Ruos would be staying on Palace Grounds for another week. In that time, Tserriednich would undoubtedly be prowling for new victims, and hopefully, he would be taking them to the same place he took Kurapika. He was arrogant, after all. Missteps such as failing to change locations were common among his type.

"Emperor Kuroro," Nasubi bowed to him, his actions replicated by his children. "What a lovely ceremony you have," he glanced towards the other consorts, and Kuroro didn't even bother imagining what he must be thinking, "and even lovelier consorts."

Oito certainly had a lot to deal with. It was unfortunate she was so infatuated with the wealth her status gave her. Kuroro could easily offer her a place here, but that would bring up the question of their relationship. He couldn't let there be another heir, even if she was illegitimate. That meant keeping Oito's ancestry a secret, even from herself. It was for the best.

"Only the wisest," Kuroro replied. "They're all a great help."

"Where's your favorite?" Tserriednich asked, scanning the faces on the pavilion. "The blonde. I was looking forward to meeting him. Benjamin said he was an insolent lout, which is always a plus in my book."

Kuroro chuckled, leading them off the platform. "I'm afraid he's caught a summer chill. Our doctor assures us it's nothing too serious, but he starts to feel ill after spending too much time in this heat."

"Well, hope he heals up soon," Tserriednich said.

He wasn't certain before, but now . . . "Why the sudden interest? You're not planning to steal him away from me, are you?"

"Nah, I'm not really into that type."

"Well, I'll consider myself fortunate then." As if he'd ever hand over any of his consorts to someone like him. Hell, any of his people.

Benjamin cleared his throat, his temper already riled.

"My apologies," said Kuroro. He passed through the middle aisle of the Throne Hall's staircase. The rest stuck to the far right, as only the Emperor was allowed to walk through the center. "The preparations for our infiltration of the enemy's headquarters is underway. The rest of the Zoldyck family is to arrive tomorrow."

They were in front of the Phoenix Throne now, cold black tiles being tread underfoot. The throne was elevated upon a platform and protected by four columns at every corner, topped with a vividly decorated ceiling that spilled over the sides in the form of handcrafted spirals. Behind the throne sat a tri-fold screen. The only wall was painted blues and greens and created a view of snow-capped mountains, though there were no mountains near the capital city. Crimson and gold took most of his view, and he knew it was meant to allude to the Phoenix. To him, it looked to have been bathed in blood.

He didn't bother taking a seat. Kuroro didn't need to look down on someone to make them feel small, that much he knew.

. . .

"Kurapika!" Leorio yelled, waving vigorously. He'd gathered a crowd around himself now. Pairo stood beside him, Basho close behind. That was to be expected. What had not been expected were the three children standing beside them with abnormal amounts of pastries in their arms.

"Huh," one of the children spoke through a mouth of skewered rice cakes. He was pale, a wild bush of silver hair on his head, and his eyes were feline-like and cerulean. A playful spark took them now, and he shifted in his light blue robes. "Wow, you're right. He's totally out of your league."

Leorio went slack-jawed, waving ceased. 3, 2, 1.

"Excuse me?" he said. Yelling would be a better word, but Kurapika knew he was hardly aware of how loud he was being. "I never said that! Besides, he's not all that amazing. He's an 8 at most, and I'm like a 7 and a half, so that's only a half-point difference!"

"As if. He's a ten, you're like a six at most," replied the boy. The girl beside him seemed captivated by the conversation. She wore a pink kimono, and with her blue eyes and pale skin, Kurapika could venture to infer that she was related to the other boy.

She pulled on the other boy's sleeve. "Hey, brother? What am I?"

"Pfft, you would break the scale, Alluka. You can't be judged by the same criteria. You'd put the others to shame," the boy said, jabbing a thumb toward Leoro. "He'd look more like a 1 in comparison to you."

The girl, Alluka, giggled. "I guess Gon would break the scale, too, huh?"

The other boy, dark-skinned and amber-eyed with an evident preference for lime green, looked at them curiously. "Eh, if that's the case, Killua would break the scale, too."

The silver one turned red. "Yeah, whatever."

Leorio whispered something under his breath, probably thinking no one would hear. But Kurapika heard.

"Brat, sure, Kurapika might be a ten, but I'm a seven at least." Their eyes met, and now realizing he'd been discovered, Leorio's face reddened to the point where it rivaled Killua's. Kurapika took his hand, definitely not pausing to ponder how much larger it was. He could feel Leorio's breath hitch, as he intertwined their fingers.

"Don't get too cocky. This is purely a platonic gesture," said Kurapika, his eyes fixed on a pair of workers manning a table of hotteoks. They seemed to notice, for they waved them over soon after.

"Right," Leorio said, though it seemed to be for his ears alone. Kurapika said nothing in return, not even when Pairo gave him a pointed gaze.

Shut up. I'm not doing anything a friend wouldn't.

Pairo rolled his eyes in response and took hold of Basho's hand. Kurapika's face must've been quite laughable for Pairo could hardly keep his laughter from bubbling out of his mouth like a boiling kettle.

That's not funny.

As if Kurapika would ever allow his best friend to be enamored by such an uncouth individual.

. End of Chapter .

Yeah, I'm back already. Surprise.

Don't worry, the plot itself will start back up soon. I'm just putting the various chess pieces into play now. Also establishing Leorio as a serious threat, and introducing Killua, Gon, and Alluka, who obviously sneaked out early.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.