Chapter Forty-One
Living Ghosts
Content: Continued discussions of childhood sexual assault and victim-blaming.
Engagement? Kurapika seizes internally as Hisoka cackles.
Chrollo's breath – his real, living breath – warms Kurapika's ear. "I wouldn't mind both."
Kurapika is dumbfounded. A few hours ago he saw Chrollo die. And yet, now, right here, Kurapika can feel his heartbeat, pressed against Kurapika's own.
Here they are, two people who haunt each other. Living ghosts. And he wants nothing more than everything Chrollo is.
"He's blushing." Hisoka narrates.
"Which one?"
"Both," Bonolenov says with amusement.
"Danchou?" Nobunaga gasps.
With a spark of sass, Kurapika stands on his toes to press his lips against Chrollo's, which are as soft and warm and welcoming as ever.
In the Kurta tribe, a public kiss before family and friends was equivalent to engagement. Kurapika is certain Chrollo doesn't know that, and he won't assume anything.
But for now, this declaration is meaningful enough to him. He doesn't want to leave Chrollo, never again.
Chrollo's lips travel back to his ear. "Your eyes. Happy scarlet?"
Kurapika nods, and Chrollo pinches his shoulder, sending shivers of delight throughout Kurapika's body.
"Get a room," Phinks says to hide his own smile.
"We're in one, technically." Illumi shrugs.
"Is Illumi attempting jokes now? I'm not ready for this," Milluki grouses.
Illumi looks hurt.
"Illumi's last idea of a joke was telling Master Killua he was gonna kill him." Canary volunteers.
"So what you're saying is his humor's improving," Machi teases.
Illumi cringes. That was just before he made his intentions to kill Alluka and Nanika clear. He's so relieved he lost that contest.
"I like this joke better," Killua says, giving Illumi a knowing smile. He doesn't hold that against Illumi, not anymore. He just wants to know what Illumi is hiding.
Illumi smiles back, but gives nothing more.
"Shall we, then?" Oito claps her hands.
"Divide and conquer," Morel intones.
"I prefer to think it stealing back what ours," Feitan says.
"You can think it hunting, thieving, politics, medicine and a circus if you want," says Beyond. "I can't say any description would be wrong. There's something for all of us to do."
"Here. You'll need this." As the kids file out the door, under the cover of nightfall, Nanika hands a shirt she's created to Chrollo, along with a rag to cover his tattoo. The fabric is thin, but it was all the nen she could manage.
Hisoka doubles over laughing. That's it; he's definitely acting jumpy. How un-Hisoka.
"Thank you," Chrollo says, ignoring his concerns to bow once more to her.
"What?" Nanika frowns, even as she pats Chrollo's head. "Why is Hisoka laughing?"
Machi groans. But her eyes meet Chrollo's, and he nods assurance back to her. He'll handle whatever secret Hisoka has.
Hisoka rubs his hands together. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell him to put a shirt on?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't 'why is Hisoka laughing' always the question?" Knov pushes his glasses back up his nose.
"Don't ask more!" Gon shrieks.
"Gon's still traumatized from Illumi's attempts at education," Killua informs Tsubone, who looks ill at the thought.
Machi and Feitan weren't kidding. This tavern, constructed entirely of crumbling concrete blocks, and stocked with half-drunk alcohol bottles encrusted with rubbish, is crowded despite the bloody bodies lying in the street. Casualties of the riots. Of lost hope and faith. And now the survivors imbibe until they forget their lives, as their reward.
Ikalgo clears his throat. The small orange octopus stands out amongst the seedy folk pouring alcohol on themselves as bathwater or crying into their pints. He seems entirely alone, but behind him, Meleoron, Machi, and Feitan are wholly invisible. Waiting.
"Hey! Can I have more rum?!"
The bartender, who mans a makeshift bar that was probably once a rich child's table, glares at him with annoyance.
Make a scene, Machi had told Ikalgo. Well. This will be a scene.
"Hey, what is this? Octopus discrimination? Chimera Ant discrimination? I could eat you if I wanted!" Ikalgo shakes his tentacles.
The bartender frowns.
"Animal cruelty! That's what this is!" Ikalgo laughs with the self-hatred he, well, often feels as a half-octopus who used to be a man.
"It's also bullshit." He feigns drunkenness as he slides out of his seat and towards the door. "Oh, yeah, easy to be mean to the octopus. Even vegetarians still eat fish! Ah-ha-ha-ha!"
He feigns staggers down the street, only pop behind the next mound of trash. "Well?"
"Sorry," Machi says as they reappear. "No one's following yet."
"You mean I gotta do this again?" Ikalgo grumbles.
"At least there alcohol?" Feitan suggests.
Ikalgo frowns. Alcohol is jus a reminder of how little he can drink now. He used to out-drink everyone in his squadron back in NGL.
He's changed. And so has Gyro, if he is truly the one behind all this, and despite the warmth of this new family, Ikalgo still hopes to reunite with his king.
The tent by the circus is now occupied by only four individuals. Kurapika and Chrollo in hiding, until they receive a call from Machi and Feitan.
And Hisoka and Illumi, their unlikely bodyguards.
"So, Kurapika, if I showed you – " Hisoka gestures between his thighs. "Would you be able to size me in comparison to Chrollo?"
"Shut up!" Kurapika lurches back. Chrollo drags a protective hand around Kurapika's shoulders and fixes Hisoka with a glare.
"You didn't even glare that hard when I tried to kill you," Hisoka says with a whistle.
"What if you're smaller?" Illumi asks as he sticks another needle in the ground. He's constructive a doll of needles. Anything to stay busy. Anything to distract.
"I bet I'm still more skilled," Hisoka purrs, running his hands across Illumi's chest.
"Mmm, or you'll kill more of the Troupe for vengeance for losing a fair contest," Illumi says dryly.
"Would I ever?" Hisoka gasps slightly. He's more offended that Illumi hasn't kissed him in ten minutes than anything else.
"Probably." Illumi moves to build another doll, ignoring his husband.
Hisoka pouts. "Well, Kurapika? Is Chrollo enjoyable at least?"
Kurapika squirms.
Chrollo pulls Kurapika practically onto his lap. To be honest, he wants to take Kurapika right now, to give the man he loves the enjoyment he's long denied himself. But he'll settle for holding him tight and burying his face in his shoulder.
Hisoka pokes Kurapika's flushed cheeks. "I'll take that as a yes. Illumi, allow me to prove myself better than Chrollo."
"I'm not sleeping with Chrollo to compare," Illumi murmurs.
"Of course not." Hisoka acts shocked. "I merely want to place only myself in your mind…and," he adds slyly, "in you."
Kurapika curses the luck that made him work with these two. "What is wrong with you two? You're both odder than normal."
"We're not at all," Illumi says, as Hisoka sobers.
"Then let's rephrase," says Chrollo, relieved that Kurapika and Machi have noticed as well. "What are you hiding?"
"Who's this 'acquaintance?'" Leorio presses as follows Cheadle down a dirty road. For someone so short, she walks fast; in fact, her stride easily outpaces his.
"No one I wish to talk to, but certainly powerful enough," she says, as evasive as she had been when she mentioned a "friend, no, an acquaintance" who could help them.
"The tracker I attached to him says in room 203." Cheadle stops before a sagging building that's been painted magenta – likely the only paint they could find in Meteor City. Towels hang where windows should be. A motel that should have been condemned, but then, this entire city is condemned.
"Really, that was the second most satisfying thing I've ever seen. Him walking off, not realizing I can follow his every move." Cheadle snorts as she approaches it, seemingly without fear of the building crushing them all.
"You're devious," Leorio teases.
"When necessary." Cheadle grins. "Think worse of me?"
"No. I think you'll be an even better leader like that," Leorio says.
"Heh." Cheadle huffs, entering the motel. The man at the desk is asleep, and that's just as well. He wears the nicest clothes Leorio has seen here, save for Valdrada – that is, an untorn T-shirt and jeans.
"If it makes you feel better, the most satisfying thing I've seen is you punching Ging. I almost made it my ringtone." Cheadle sniffs.
"Are you kidding?" Leorio feels delighted as they climb the creaking stairs. A cockroach buzzes past Leorio's ear, and he leaps instinctively.
"Careful!" Cheadle grabs his hand as he dangles on the edge of the stairs. "Don't fall."
"I hate bugs," he grumbles, embarrassed.
"I'll save you from bugs if you save me from mice," she says casually. As if she doesn't hold his quirks against him, as if he's not silly.
"Deal." Leorio has to smile.
The sheet taped over where the door should be is coated in dust, though 203 is scribbled on the cloth. Cheadle coughs as she pushes it aside.
A figure lounges in bed, bathed in moonlight filtered through the towel hanging in the open window.
"Evading responsibilities again, hmm?" Cheadle raises her voice. She crosses her arms.
Leorio's mouth falls open. "Bastard!"
Ging Freecs rubs his eyes as he sits up.
"Hisoka, a moment of seriousness?" Chrollo asks to fill in the palpable silence. Dawn breaks outside, peeking through the cracks in the tent door. A dawn he wouldn't see if it weren't for this obnoxious, irritatingly dear clown.
Hisoka purrs. "Always for you, Danchou."
"I'm not your Danchou," Chrollo reminds him.
"You're right, Illumi is." Hisoka points towards his husband, who looks like he's just swallowed vinegar. "Call me that next time we're fucking."
"You mean he hasn't already? I'm surprised," Kurapika isn't sure he's ever uttered something so crude and sarcastic before, but he's also hugging his resurrected lover and former enemy, whilst planning an overthrow of the mafia, whilst befriending Illumi and Hisoka, so really, why not?
"What are you two up to?" Illumi's eyes dart between their faces.
"I think you know," Chrollo says, his sorrow building.
"I don't but let's pretend I do." Hisoka's laugh sounds even more high-pitched and desperate.
"You've been acting odd since we mentioned Gyro." Chrollo's eyes linger on Hisoka a moment.
Suspicious eyes.
"You think I'll betray you again?" Hisoka asks sweetly. His heart feels ill.
"No, I don't." Chrollo swallows back his questions. Gyro's flippant confession to what Pakunoda had always alleged never surprised Chrollo.
Hisoka's palpable discomfort at the mention of Gyro merely fits with everything Chrollo already knows. That, and the fact that Illumi's bloodlust rises at the very mention of his name.
"You have enough secrets to ruin Gyro forever, don't you?" Chrollo asks quietly.
Hisoka stiffens. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're far too calm right now for the Hisoka I know," Kurapika says.
"Here I thought I was too much."
"You were until Chrollo asked," Kurapika counters.
"I don't think you want to continue." Hisoka bites off each word.
Chrollo shakes his head. "You're a good actor. I should have known. It's not that you're uninterested in the past. It's that you can't face it."
"I said, stop." Hisoka draws back.
"It's not your fault." Illumi lowers his voice.
And now Kurapika gasps. Because he hadn't realized the obvious issue before – it was too ugly even for him to consider – but suddenly everything makes sense.
"You're assuming far too much." Hisoka knows better. He knows it is his fault. He wasn't a victim, just an idiot kid.
But he still grieves, because he's selfish and because he wishes it didn't bother him.
Were his sexual taunts tonight all just a desire to think of sex in any other capacity than – what he brought on himself as a kid?
He told Illumi that he was raped, and Hisoka almost wants to believe he was, and he knows that even legally it was, but he can't believe it truly was. He wanted it; he'd thought it was love.
And he can't ever, ever bear that truth made manifest.
Ikalgo hums to himself as he waits outside a rotten food stand. It's now noon, and the bodies that crowded the square last have been dumped on the city outskirts. Flies that feast on drops of blood are the only signs that death was ever here.
Machi and Feitan are certain he's been followed since sunrise, and frankly, Ikalgo is tired of waiting.
"Hey friend!" Meleoron 'appears' besides the stand. Two ants now, to sweeten the deal.
"Hey," Ikalgo says, feigning surprise. "I've missed you, dude!"
"Yeah, dude. Really." Meleoron is no good at faking things.
Ikalgo tries not to cringe. "Let's blow this stand. Did I tell ya, I saw our king yesterday!"
"Our king?" Meleoron claps his hands to his cheeks.
From behind the fruit stand, Machi tries to stifle her giggles.
"Calm," Feitan says.
"I think the kid is making me laugh more," she says, touching her slight stomach.
"Excuse," Feitan retorts, but a shiver runs through him every time she mentions the kid.
He killed kids.
Is he much better than the mafia they've decided to overthrow?
He's scared. He wants to lock himself in a room with Machi and kiss her stomach and freeze time so they stay there, waiting for their kid, forever.
"I'm pregnant and angry. Let me laugh."
"Excuses!" Feitan shoots back, harder, and they exchange smirks.
Machi's head whips around. "Here we go." A figure, masked except for their eyes – not at all unusual in Meteor City – approaches their ant friends. His shadow blocks the sunlight. In this heat, she's not complaining –
But her instincts scream.
Machi sends a hasty text to Chrollo, and her blood chills. She looks up, expectant.
"Feitan."
He barely has time to turn around before a faction of masked men surrounds them.
"More Spiders?" asks one.
"Ant guardians, actually," Machi says breezily, nodding to a horrified Ikalgo.
"Good. You'll be coming with us." The man reaches out to crush Machi's cell phone. Two more hold Feitan.
"That's expensive. You should have at least sold it," she jokes.
Feitan feels a surge of panic as the man punches her in her stomach. "Machi!"
Kikyo wrinkles her nose as she passes through the narrow, infested halls that smell of urine and tears. Silva barely squeezes through behind her.
She broke into many a brothel to kill. Save an acquaintance an unfortunate lover, kill someone in their most vulnerable state.
These are worse than she remembers. She almost hates herself for forgetting.
This is the fourth brothel she's visited, each farther from the center square, which means each is worse than the last.
Second on the right.
Kikyo pushes open the door, refusing to allow herself hesitation, refusing to allow Silva to think her weak.
Even after a quarter-century of marriage, she doesn't trust him, does she? She's never escaped this place.
A tall woman with red hair and high-cheekbones rolls over, wearing nothing but stained satin sheets. Those yellow cat eyes are unmistakable, even though they're glazed from alcohol and, judging by the syringe on her nightstand, D2. "I told you, I don't want customers –"
Kikyo yanks off her visor as Silva closes the door behind them. "Illuna."
