Chapter Forty-Four

Save Me

Oh hey. Believe it or not, while I have yet to work out the exact number of remaining chapters, we won't get past Ch. 50. Well, there will be four epilogues. But the conflict/arc will be done by 50.

As previously stated, continued content warning for discussion of childhood sex abuse. And now suicidal thoughts.

"Who the hell are you?" Dull eyes flicker with surprise as Illuna regards the five children crowding her stuffy room. Kids aren't usually allowed above the basement here.

She sways as she presses her palms to his hips, like a disapproving parent. The liquor bottle gets in her way, and she loses her balance. "Fuck!"

"We're friends of Hisoka," the green-haired boy declares.

Gon finds himself stunned by this woman's resemblance to her son. Though her makeup is smeared under her eyes, and lines of misery crease her cheeks, she is undeniably Hisoka's mother.

The largest difference is her expression, which lacks Hisoka's mirth; she has fallen into despair.

"Is that so. And friends of the Zoldycks, too, I presume?" Illuna clucks her tongue. Are these children going to assassinate her? Put her down like a dog?

"They're our parents, except for Gon." Kalluto points to his siblings.

"Aw, man. Don't tell me Kikyo's kids care about her after all." Illuna clenches her teeth even as she forces a grin. Of course. The white-haired brat looks like Silva, and the black-haired trio like Kikyo. Though one of the girls has eyes and a mouth more void than flesh.

"Were you just talking to Gyro?" Gon crosses his arms.

"Mind your own business." Illuna hates herself for sounding like a child. For repeating the words the mafia told her, but she taught Hisoka to ignore.

"Well, Hisoka is our friend, so he is our business," Gon retorts.

"Assassins don't have friends." Illuna rolls her eyes.

"We're not assassins anymore," Killua fumes.

Illuna gasps with glee, with relief. "So Kikyo did ruin her family!"

"Why don't you focus on your own?" Kalluto shoots back.

"You let your lover hurt Hisoka," Killua says, a waver in his voice. "For money."

"Money?!" Illuna leaps forward to catch Killua by his wrists. Her long, chipped faux nails dig into him, leaving scarlet polish and blood along his flesh. "You know nothing of Meteor City if you think anyone here is enamored with money. We're enamored with our lives. If keeping a man's interest in a woman raised to whore herself allowed her to provide food and shelter for herself and her bastard, why would she refuse?!"

"Because he hurt Hisoka. I can tell," says Alluka. "Hisoka can't forget."

"If you know my son, you know he's a liar, just like me. I taught Hisoka lies from a young age." Illuna laughs. Gyro was only interested in girls, anyhow.

Young girls, and now she was too old, but girls. When she was young, she'd been enough.

"You're wrong," says Gon. "Hisoka is a liar, but he's also a friend, underneath the makeup and murders."

"Don't you care about your own child?" Killua demands.

"What right do you have to assume parents should care about their children? Perhaps that was just Kikyo's indoctrination," Illuna mocks.

Nanika sucks in her breath. Kalluto hangs his head.

Killua pauses. Tears fill his eyes. He's surrounded by – by Kalluto, only valued as another useful, easily manipulated child. By Alluka, imprisoned as soon as she lost control. By Nanika, whose village banished her just for questions.

And by Gon. His best friend, his most valued person, whose father still couldn't visit him on his deathbed.

What right, indeed?

Because – because he wants them to. Because they're all hurting, because no one loved them well enough.

Killua stammers. "You – you're adults."

"And still heartbroken over it." Illuna toasts him before gulping down the rest of her liquor.

"Adults should care about their kids. Adults have reasoning and wisdom that kids shouldn't. Adults cause hurting kids by teaching kids to hurt." Killua shakes his head. "It's your fault. You may not have hurt your son, but you didn't save him, and you can't even draw the courage to face your errors!"

"Are you talking about me now? Or Kikyo?" Illuna's gaze smolders. Behind that laughing façade, she is livid.

Hisoka was not hurt.

Hisoka was fine. He left because he was selfish. Nothing more.

"I'm talking abut both of you. And my dad. And Gon's dad and Nanika's village. All of you. Every last one. Fuck you. Fuck all of you who hurt kids." Killua shivers.

Illuna steps forward. She draws a knife from her robe. "I've never –"

"You're not the sort of woman to allow this? You are. You already have," Killua whispers, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Put the knife down! My friends are the best child assassins around!" Gon steps in front of them all.

"There are kids right below us, and you've allowed it!" Alluka cries, yanking Gon back. "You have!"

Illuna sputters. "No, I –"

"You called Gyro just now, hoping he'd let you love him again," Kalluto accuses. "Because you want someone to save you. Well, your son wanted someone to save him, and you could have, but you didn't."

He wanted people to save him, too. Machi and Feitan had.

"Nanika," Gon says. Confronting Illuna was hopeless. They were going to lose control.

"I'm ready." Nanika's aura begins to glow from every node on her body. Alluka shimmers next. Killua's aura spills open, and Kalluto's.

Pinpricks spread across Gon's. To his own amazement, new aura nodes split across his arms and entire body to emit radiant golden light. "What?"

Me?

Is his nen back?

No. This is new. The nodes are different. But they exist. So that he can help the kids they came to rescue. Power surges through Gon. If Nanika can save children, he'll enhance her nen with everything he has.

"Good bye," Nanika says formally to Illuna.

In that moment, every enslaved child in Meteor City, from the farthest away to the ones in the cellar of the brothel, found themselves sucked into a nen warp.


A golden, familiar glow envelops the city, stealing Kikyo's breath.

"That nen," Kikyo says urgently.

Silva turns back to the brothel, which looms in the distance. Something niggles in the back of his mind – but he can't quite place it.

"It's Alluka's." Kikyo sets her jaw.

"Are you sure?"

"I recognize it," Kikyo insists.

Silva smiles faintly. Of course Kikyo would recognize her children. She's the perfect mother, despite her shortcomings.

Kikyo claps her hands over her mouth to muffle a shriek. Were they – were her children there? Why? Not even Alluka deserves this fate!

She prepares to run, but a broad-shoulders man with silver hair jumps into their path. He casually holds an enormous pipe over his shoulder, and wears an unsuitable smile on his face. "Pardon me, but you're not allowed to interfere in our mission."

"If you're worried, your kids are tough," adds a curly-haired man eagerly, emerging from an alley to further block the street. A scrawny, bespectacled man and a one-armed man dressed in a purple robe accompany him.

Behind the Zoldycks, a man wrapped in bandages, a hulking man with extended earlobes, and another purple-robed man with a ponytail – albeit with darker hair – leap down from the mountains of trash. Surrounding the Zoldycks.

Silva curses. His wife is in no shape to fight, and he completely overlooked his surroundings, for the first time since he was a boy. That bitch – Illuna – it's her fault for upsetting them.

Or is it his fault? He'd punish the kids if they made such a mistake, no matter the reason. Silva pushes the thought from his mind.

"Who are you?" Kikyo shrieks.

"The Spiders." Silva eyes Bonolenov, Nobunaga, and Franklin.

"And the survivors of NGL's Ant mission. Well, some of them." Morel Mackernasey slaps his pipe. "We'd rather not fight you, but if we do, you're guaranteed a long duel."

"Don't get in the way of my kids!" Kikyo hisses.

"We're not. Rather, we're preventing you from getting in the way of your kids," Franklin explains.

Nobunaga sniffs. "They're great kids, by the way."

"Though how anyone could hurt little Alluka and Nanika befuddles me," says Morel, glaring at Silva.

"Nanika slaughtered many," Silva says tersely.

"And yet, who caused Nanika?" Shoot looks sad as he touches his stump of a shoulder.

Nobunaga eyes the man who looks so much like him. Minus the arm, yet still powerful.

He admires these hunters. People who are undeniably strong, yet care for more than their own. Perhaps – perhaps these are the people the Troupe should look to become.

Silva responds darkly. "No one –"

"Stop lying," Nobunaga says.

"We know the truth. Beyond Netero told us," Shoot informs them.

Silva turns white as a corpse.

"We will not let you pass. It's your choice whether you wish to follow us, but we've planned too much to accept interference," Knov says calmly.


"Would that Melody were here," Chrollo says, watching Kurapika's dowsing chain sway forward, in the direct of both Meleoron and Feitan. Apparently.

Kurapika's heart warms that Chrollo values his hunter friends, too. He knows, intellectually, that Chrollo does. But hearing his compliments towards someone as precious as Melody triggers waves of gratitude for Kurapika.

"Nonetheless." Machi strains into the dim green darkness. She's those are footsteps, far back in the inky blackness. "Someone's coming."

Chrollo whips out Fun Fun Cloth and shrinks them all to the size of normal ants. They look like nothing more a crinkled, discarded handkerchief.

"Make sure he stays there. Not a kind word!" Gyro stalks by. A young companion, a female in a yellow dress, has to run alongside to keep up. She whimpers in agreement.

"I know her!" Ikalgo slaps Chrollo with his tentacles.

"Is she trustworthy?" Kurapika whispers.

"Not unless we give her the chance to be, I suppose," Chrollo muses.

Kurapika hold his hand out to calm Machi as Gyro slowly climbs the wide stairs. The girl stands at the base, watching him, shaking.

"Hina," Ikalgo says quietly.

"I have more self-control than you did," Machi hisses, glaring at Kurapika.

"I know. I just thought you might need a hand. Waiting is hard," Kurapika replies, and Machi softens.

"Apology accepted, Chain Bastard." She offers him a half-smile.

Chrollo bites the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling too much. He loves seeing Machi and Kurapika value each other.

"Now." Gyro has vanished beyond the stairs, and the girl – Hina – makes no effort to move.

Chrollo lifts the cloth, and the world roars back to full-size around them.

Ikalgo propels himself forward to slap his tentacles around the Hina's mouth. "This may not look like it, but it is a rescue."

Hina blinks. She remembers his face, or not even really. Only his orange octopus form. Definitely not a name. "You – uh – "

"Ikalgo," he says proudly. "And you're Hina."

"Uh-huh." She looks from Chrollo to Kurapika to Machi.

Kurapika's heart hurts. She doesn't recognize Chrollo, meaning she's likely not been outside recently. And she's young – young enough to explain why an ant has been serving Gyro instead of taken to the experiments.

All she recognizes is fear, and despair. She came to Meteor City to find her beloved leader, and she found him, and he used her and imprisoned her and hurt her friends.

The sme despair Kurapika felt when he killed Uvogin, the despair in Gon's eyes when he mentions Ging.

The despair of a child who found what they were looking for.

"Hey." Unfazed, Chrollo places his hands on her shoulders and looks into her sorrowful eyes. "We're going to get you out of here, and everyone we can. We promise."

"I'm an ant," she recites, rocking back and forth.

Ikalgo looks sick – this is not the Hina he remembers. "Good, because we're rescuing all the ants."

In response, Hina throws her arms around Chrollo and begins to sob.

Chrollo gingerly pats her back, shooting Kurapika a nervous glance.

"Hina, did you see a small, black-haired friend of ours?" Machi's instincts already know the answer.

"He's back there." Hina turns her tear-streaked face to the pink-haired woman's. She raises her finger to point, however shakily. "Are you Machi?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Machi inhales deeply.

"Let's rescue him." That makes their first decision easy. Chrollo lifts Hina into his arms, and turns to follow Machi down the hall.

"What if he comes back and traps us all again?" Hina cries.

"We'll still rescue you," Kurapika vows. "Machi, take the lead. Ikalgo and I will walk behind Chrollo and Hina. Just to protect her."

She offers him a watery smile, and he smiles in return.

"Why was Feitan separated?" Kurapika asks as they stop before a double door fastened with chains. Orbed heads are carved into the doorknobs, and he has the funny sensation he's seen these before.

"Mr. Hill takes most of the people and ants, but Gyro gets a few to play with if he asks nicely." Hina sniffles.

"Hill?" Kurapika sucks in his breath.

A muscle twitches in Machi's jaw. "These chains."

"Here's the key." Hina fishes around her neck for the chain.

But Machi has already kicked the door in.


"You!" Bizeff rears back into the crowd, but her fat companions hand latches onto his wrist, so that he can't lose himself milling amongst the filthy hordes.

Her hair is darker and an orb adorns her forehead, but there's no mistake – this is Sinker Belle. Bizeff hacks for air.

Palm loses touch with her limbs. She can't move. Hate pours from her lips. "You – you survived."

How, when Komugi and Mereum died, when Chairman Netero blew himself up in a poisonous rose – how did this worm escape?

"You know him?" Milluki frowns. There's something unsettling about this man; he doesn't look like someone from Meteor City. He's too slick. Too prissy. Too cowardly, as he hunches his shoulders, and sweat beads his ample brows.

"I should have guessed," Palm says flatly. "Cockroaches always survive." She turns to Milluki. "The Secretary of State of NGL. Gyro, and later the ant's, right-hand man. A war criminal. A monster in human form, if there ever was one."

"With what right do you –"

"All you ever wanted was to live in luxury as millions were slaughtered," Palm says.

"You were a spy."

"I thought the name Sinker Belle was fairly obvious, but there's no accounting for stupidity when you think with your cock." Palm crosses her arms.

"Sinker Belle? That's marvelous." Milluki's eyes light up.

"Planning another coup?" Bizeff sputters. "I'll – I'll tell them all! You can't very well murder me here, anyhow!"

Milluki's eyes harden. This idiot could somehow ruin their plans. Just like Father always warned them: there's only one thing more dangerous than a smart target, and that's a dumb one.

Behind them, Tsubone, Canary, and Amane sweep inside before Raissa Valdrada. The council will begin soon.

They don't have time for this politician's stupidity. Milluki's mind whirs.

Morel and Knov, Knuckle and Shoot squeeze into the crowd. Morel's eyes widen at the sight of Bizefff.

Nobunaga, Franklin, and Bonolenov file inside, two figures between them – a waifish woman and a towering man.

Mother and Father. About to watch him fail again. Milluki's face heats.

Knov knows, everyone does, Palm thinks. But he's never mentioned it to her. No one of her friends has treated her differently yet.

But these Spiders – these servants – the proper, if bratty, son beside her – they might think of her in the manner of the Hunter Association. A crazy sap who lost her humanity alongside, well, her virginity.

Cheadle and Leorio stumble closer, dragging Ging Freecs – of the onlookers, the one person neither Palm nor Milluki hold in any regard.

But Cheadle's eyes warm at the sight of Palm, and for now, another woman's support is enough for her.

Palm laughs right in Bizeff's ugly face.

"You know I'm right." Bizeff puffs his cheeks. He draws himself up. "I can ruin you and your plans, so don't go thinking about revenge."

"Too late," says Milluki.

Sass isn't strength. Father glared down at the chubby six-year-old crying on the floor.

"Okay, fatty." Bizeff cocks an eyebrow at this pig's immediate defense.

Milluki stutters.

Just let him eat himself to death. He's pathetic, Father said, shaking his head in disgust at the twelve-year-old who only felt happy when he ate something sweet.

Milluki's face reddens. He doesn't – he doesn't want to – fail, not now, not in front of his new friends, not in front of his parents – not in front of Palm. But he doesn't know what to do.

That's why he prefers computers. A screen gives him time to think, to plan.

"Don't you know, glutton?" Bizeff laughs. "She seduced me to infiltrate the palace. Like an inexperienced harlot."

Palm raises her fist to punch him straight through the Hall of Elders, but Milluki grabs it first.

Strength was never really his thing.

"Is that supposed to bother me?" Milluki laughs, and suddenly words spurned by fury pour out. "I was fifteen when my parents decreed I offer myself up to be raped for a job. I don't give a fuck what Palm did. It's your fault, you monster. Palm is brilliant and kind, and she knows what everyone else needs to learn: strength doesn't matter in the end."

His voice breaks. It's all he's ever wanted to hear.

Palm goggles at him. She wraps her hand around his stubby fingers.

"I'm glad you all like Palm," says Canary, breaking into the silence, "but I personally am done with men like this."

She sends her staff straight into Bizeff's crotch.

"There are six Zoldyck children work with us," Morel adds sweetly, coming over to drape an arm around the man. "Don't say a word or your precious survival skills may come to an unfortunate end."

Shoot and Nobunaga turn around to grab the Zoldyck parents, to force them to the second floor overlooking the hall, far away from their children.

The rest of their group gathers around them. Gittanracker and Captain Baha motion them into the hall.

They're his friends. They've been reminded how worthless Milluki is, and they still supported him. He wants to live in this moment forever.

"Let's go into the hall." Palm suggests softly, tugging on his hand. Her eyes wash him with compassion.

Milluki nods. For the first time in his life, he feels – worthwhile.

"Make way!" calls a voice familiar to anyone who watched Chrollo's execution. But this time, instead of a magistrate eager to condemn Chrollo to death, the elders of Meteor City march into the building, their wives and mistresses and husbands by their side.

Behind them, the Eight queens of Kakin, with select princes, follow. Oito's eyes meet Palm's, and she winks as Phinks leads the rest of their crew to stand besides Milluki, Palm, and the others.

As the hall fills with people, no one notices a willowy, redheaded woman slip inside.


Feitan fixates on a sharp crack in the floor. He yearns to throw himself upon it, to burst the blood in his veins, to release the world from the presence of someone as evil as him.

Why does this hurt so much?

He's always been this person, whether he knew it or not.

No, it hurts because family has always been a mystery of endless possibilities. He could torture and kill because they weren't family. He could strike up a killing contest with Phinks, wiping out family after family, and never bat an eye.

The crippled Kurta kid. Chrollo mentioned him once, and Feitan knew immediately. Feitan remembers skinning Kurapika's best friend.

And he never knew why.

But now he knows why.

He knows that he is exactly the sort of person who should butcher children. The son of a dictator who raped his mother when she was too young to defend herself.

If he lives, he hurt his kid? He hurt Machi? No, Machi can defend herself, but –

It hurts because Feitan's always known he was evil, but now he feels as though he never had a chance to be good.

He feels damned.

The door crashes open, and Feitan forces himself to look stoic, be stoic, feel nothing –

Feitan barely registers Danchou and Machi. His gaze is helpless, surrendering any pretense of strength or defiance. He is broken, and no physical torture was even necessary on the Troupe's infamous torturer.

What sort of family torture their kid? He had once yelled when Kalluto expected pain. In hypocritical indignation.

My family.

"Fei." Machi, for once, is dumbfounded.

"Don't free me." He deserves the chains stringing him along the wall.

"Feitan," Kurapika says, stepping forward with alarm.

Maybe the Chain Bastard will kill him.

"The baby is okay, I think," Machi says tentatively.

"It won't be." Feitan shivers violently. "Keep me away from it."

"What are you talking about?" Ikalgo's face scrunches.

"He's his dad. Gyro," Hina says from Chrollo's arms. "He told him."

The shock that crosses Machi's face sends pain springing down Feitan's limbs. Though he can only look at the floor, tears begin to roll down his cheeks, tears of shame and fear.

"I sorry," he tells Kurapika. "I sorry. I hurt kids. I kill Pairo."

Kurapika starts. His heart sinks. Chrollo meets his eyes, confirming.

"I am the son of a monster. I hopeless." Feitan hates himself, because he wants Machi, he wants his child, he wants to stay with them forever and ever. And he doesn't deserve it.

"Fei." Machi steps forward and kneels before him. She reaches up to wipe his tears, one by one, with those velvet hands that have always entranced him. "I bet you're not the only one who is the son of a rapist. You are not doomed to repeat your father's mistakes. You're a great Father to Kalluto already, and you know that."

She removes his shackles, one wrist at a time. Finally, the gag, so he can speak clearly. "Fei, I want to raise our child together. I am not afraid of you."

"Neither am I."

Feitan is startled to see Kurapika behind Machi, holding forth the eyes with the specks, the eyes Danchou had given the Chain Bastard at the start of this crazed adventure.

"P – Pairo and I, we would always complain. About how unfair it was that we were judged by who our tribe was. You should not be judged for your parents, no more than Killua and the Zoldycks, or Hisoka, or anyone else." Kurapika squeaks.

"And if you were a monster, you wouldn't remember killing Pairo." Kurapika begins to weep himself. "I forgive you. And Pairo, if he was as I knew him, would want the same."

"Feitan." Chrollo says nothing more.

"What's your name?" A smirking kid with ash smudged on his forehead blocks Feitan's path, clutching a book like it was food.

"Feitan." He glared. "Get out of my way or I go through you."

"I'm Chrollo. Chrollo Lucilfer."

"That dumb."

"Well, I'm going to call you Feitan Portor. The name of a magical gate in this fairy tale." He waves the book. "Portor."

"No you not!"

"Then be my friend and make me change it." The kid darted off, Feitan on his heels, yelling obscenities in the inverted language that consistently earned him beatings before he escaped the orphanage.

"We're your family," Machi begs.

He throws his arms around her, squeezing her so tightly she gasps.

He's damned, but – but – he still has to pray to Machi.

"Save me."