Book 2: Malum (Misfortune)

Chapter 13: The Crosses They Carried

FOUR YEARS LATER

"Get off your ass girl, there are some new ruins I want to check out."

The insult was met only by an exasperated sigh and a hiss. "For god's sake don't be so rude Ging. It's like two-hundred degrees out here."

"It's a desert, what were you expecting?"

"It's still hot!"

A twenty-one year old female got to her feet and crossed her arms, perpetual scowl scrawled across her expression as usual.

"I'm ten years older than you, I'm sure you can manage, Rita!"

She figured she should cut her hair soon; it was getting long and unruly, flaming orange blending nicely with light brunette roots. Perhaps the ends had been dyed at one point?

"I'm wearing all black too, let's rest for a moment, okay?"

"For the love of god, I'm leaving without you if you don't get up!"

"Fine, fine, you're so damn pushy!" The girl stood up and jogged a bit to catch up to him. "Geez, Ging, how do you deal with this?"

"I don't." He answered coldly. "It's not something I have to deal with, since I enjoy it, though I'm sure the concept it entirely foreign to someone like you."

She huffed, frowning. "Alright be rude if you insist."

Ging sighed, looking up at the blazing sun and questioning why he ever took the girl under his wing the first place. It wasn't like he was ever lonely; he preferred avoiding human contact if possible, really. It's just that the massacre at the Yorknew Auction had been really bloody and the girl had been impaled up against a tree for god's sake.

"Hey, Rita."

He was met with silence. Confused, Ging looked at her only to find that the female was intent on giving him the silent treatment.

"You little-!" He frowned, putting his hands in his pockets. "Respect your elders for a change why don't you, you little twerp!"

"You act like you're twelve half the time, you're one to talk!" She fired back. "What do you want?"

Ging pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you still not remember anything? It's been like a year."

"Six months," she corrected him immediately, amused. "And no, I don't. Honestly at this point, I don't care if I remember or not. I'm fine with living like this."

"Yeah, well I might not be." He muttered under his breath.

God knows how she was still alive. There was too much blood to even fathom, and she shouldn't have lost so much and been able to survive.

It had been a short, straight sword, driven cleanly and swiftly into her left lower abdomen, successfully pinning her to the bark of the tree behind her. Whoever had done it had been proficient in their swordsmanship and had also been thoughtful enough to pin the back of her dress to the tree so she didn't double over and drown in her own blood.

The situation as bizarre in and of itself, but really, the only perpetrators at that auction had been the Phantom Brigade; why they would have gone out of their way to kill the girl in such a peculiar way was beyond his comprehension.

"And also," she crossed her arms. "Why do you call me by that name? Rita?"

"Why do you respond to it?" Ging questioned.

"Shut up." She mumbled. "How much farther do we have to go?"

"A few miles, maybe more." The male shrugged. "I don't know, I just know where it is."

"Why do I stick with you?" She lamented

"Why do you?" He questioned right back.

For someone who had been stricken with an incurable bout of amnesia, the girl was incredibly talented. She seemed to know nen inherently and she also had a non-nen related power, one he had never seen before; it was creepy as hell, but useful, he would admit.

And such was their loosely labeled relationship, filled with biting sarcasm and constant bickering. Neither felt much loyalty toward the other, only found slight solace in mutually –but barely—bearable company.

But given the short time they had spent together, Ging never felt completely at ease around her. A strange nen clung to her like a curse, thick and difficult to disperse. This girl was not herself, Ging knew that much.

Nearly 20,000 kilometers away, Kuroro Lucifer blinked twice, eyes adjusting to the moonlight of the night. He sighed, putting down his works of Leo Tolstoy; he had been reading by light of the kerosene lamp, finding that the rain pouring down hard outside made the meager flame flicker more than he would have liked.

He despised the rain, though it was something he would never say. It made everything damp and humid and miserable, and most of all, his numerous scars ached fiercely.

"Something wrong Dancho?" The samurai asked from across the spacious building.

"No, Nobunaga." He closed his book, relenting to the fact that he would get no substantial reading accomplished tonight. The gash on his left arm pulsated, on and off and on again, in time with the steady thrum of the sheets hitting the roof. "Nothing's wrong."

He remembered the day he first met her; it must have been a good seven years ago. It had been four since he had last seen her, and fool, he had spent a good three before that becoming attached to her.

"You shouldn't do that." She had said, crawling out from behind her alleyway as he prepared to dismember his poisoned forearm.

He had relaxed his posture, amused by this street orphan's boldness. "Enlighten me." He smiled.

Without a word she had scuttled over toward him.

Kuroro had resisted the urge to jerk his arm back when she put her small hands on it. He watched her cautiously, eyes narrowing slightly as they took in her appearance.

She had been short then, and in surprisingly good shape for a street orphan. Her hair, originally brunette, had been lightened slightly by the scorching sun, and it was long, but slightly unruly; nor orange as he would normally remember her, but still her. She wouldn't turn her eyes toward him.

"What are you doing?" He would ask.

"I don't know," would come the response.

And true, who ever really knew what they were doing nowadays?

Farther hidden in the shadows, Machi watched him with a frown in her expression. For how long will you cling to her ghost?

Kuroro stood up, unbuttoning the sleeves of his white flannel and rolling them down. The darkness had a tendency to make things cold and without the fire and passion he used to have by his side, it had become a bit more daunting to face alone, though for the life of him, he couldn't remember when it had started.

"Have any of you read the news recently?" Kuroro asked into the blackness.

"They've discovered the Ruins of the rumored city of Akasha." Shalnark remarked, recalling the interesting broadcast.

Their leader nodded his head, donning his black trench coat with the St. Peter's Cross. "Correct, the Ruins of Akasha have been found in the outer outskirts of the Minbo Republic."

"That dingy place?" Nobunaga asked.

"Oh please, it's not like you could locate the damn thing on a map." Machi shot him a glare. "Keep your trap shut until Dancho has finished explaining."

Nobunaga opened his mouth to start shouting but found it roughly covered by an enormous hand.

"Now, now, Nobu," Uvogin frowned. "No fighting within the Troupe, especially not in the middle of orders."

Kuroro watched the spectacle, as always slightly entranced by this display of open friendship and trust. He supposed he had something like it too, a while ago, but…

He cleared his throat. "At any rate, some valuable treasures are rumored to be there, especially the remains of some famous emperor and a city of gold, if you're into that kind of stuff. I wouldn't mind checking it out, but it would require some extensive travelling."

"I'm in!" Uvogin raised his arm, simultaneously downing the rest of his beer. "Sounds like an adventure!"

Uvogin, Kuroro realized, might have been the largest member of their group in terms of physique, and by far possessed the most physical strength, but he was also the most childish. The man was straight-forward, and agonizingly honest.

"Me too!" Shalnark exclaimed. "Sounds like a great opportunity."

"Well count me out." Feitan said. "Doesn't seem all that great."

In the end, Feitan and Franklin were the only two that didn't wind up tagging along, and that was because Franklin didn't want Feitan to be the only one being left behind, though it wasn't like he really cared all that much.

The new members of the Troupe were fulfilling their purpose well, Kuroro decided, and for now –and hopefully for a long time longer—that was all he really wanted.

"This place is fucking creepy." Rita commented, looking around warily.

"You know what else is fucking creepy?" Ging asked as he carefully side-stepped the amalgamation of cobwebs that had accumulated over centuries of dust and pristine conditions. "You."

"Well you're fucking rude." Rita frowned; she figured she must say the sentence fifteen times a day, given how crude Ging's sense of humor could be.

"Show some reverence for the ruins of what used to be the grandest city of its time!" Ging put his hands in his pockets and began to walk around, scope the catacombs. "We're lucky we found the damn place, we'd been searching for god knows how long."

"I can't even pronounce its name." The female scoffed, sitting down on a large, nearby rock, crossing her legs.

"A-ka-sha!" The two-star Hunter said pointedly. "Akasha! It finds its roots in several ancient religions, many of which still exist today, including Buddhism, Jainism, and Hinduism. Akasha is known as the fifth fundamental elements and represents balance and peace, also called 'center.' It may also refer to atmosphere, hinting at its omnipresence, also called the aether. Rumor had it there was an ancient civilization based off of this ideology, which is what I hope to prove to be true today."

Ging snuck a glance at the twenty-one year old. Interestingly enough, the girl was beyond ill-mannered when Ging went off about things one would normally find interesting. Things concerning petty theft occurring around, the world, who was where at what time, things of that sort; but the girl went quiet when he launched into intellectual material concerning philosophy, fine literature, and surprisingly, knowledge regarding even his works of excavation.

"Akasha," she repeated. "Akasha." Then she frowned. "Sounds vaguely familiar."

"You may have read about it somewhere. It's not classified information or anything."

Rita smirked. "Yeah, maybe I read about it. What are you looking for Ging?"

"Akasha was allegedly a city of treasures and gold, so basically-"

"Money," Rita deadpanned, turning her head in disapproval. "Of course. Men." She tsked. "How long will we be in this place?"

"I don't know, stop asking so many questions, will you?" The Hunter groaned. "Until I get everything in order and make preparations in order to have it properly conserved!"

"It was only an inquiry."

"Like every other thing that comes out of your mouth."

"Should we be expecting anyone?"

"There you go again!"

"Ging!"

He sighed. "I suppose. It's an enormous discovery so reporters and people of the like should be flocking here in perhaps 24 hours' time. But the Hunter Department should be able to hold back the majority of them. Only special people with special identification or position will be allowed in here."

"There's always the possibility of brute force."

"Only idiots would do that." Ging laughed. "Idiots that don't realize the beauty of these artifacts."

Rita stared at him for a moment. For someone so miserly, irritable, and carefree, Ging was surprisingly passionate about his excavation and preservation work. The girl narrowed her eyes, seeming to recall this envy of watching people with a certain zeal, this envy in which she wished she could display the same passion…

"What are you looking at, brat?"

"I'm twenty-one Ging." She laughed. "You can't call me that anymore."

"We'll be landing in the Minbo Republic shortly." Kuroro announced.

The other members of the Troupe nodded their heads once, swiftly.

"Take what you want, try to minimize meaningless slaughter and," he smirked. "Don't damage your surroundings too much. There are eons of history in these ruins."

He looked to the starry night sky. Here in the rural countryside region where sprawling civilization had yet to contaminate, they were so numerous, so bright.

"Paku," he breathed. "Start lowering the hot air balloon will you?"

The woman wordlessly assented.

Ten minutes later found the band of thieves safely landed on the ground stretching and prepping. Kuroro carried only a single book with him; it was all he really needed.

"We meet back here just prior to sunset." He set the rendezvous time. "Or earlier if need be," he smirked, "though I doubt that will be a possibility." When he was met with affirmation, Kuroro nodded once: "Disperse."

Like shadows, comfortable in their surroundings, the Spiders stole through the night.

An enormous crash reverberated through the catacombs.

"Twenty-four hours my ass," Rita scoffed, "it's barely been twenty-four minutes."

The two-star Hunter raised his hand to his mouth, worry creasing his brow. "Who on earth could have gotten here so fast?"

"I believe the real question is who is idiotic enough to try to bust into here?"

"Probably someone Hunter-level." Ging considered. "Maybe higher. Anyways, brace yourself for a fight."

"Who said I was going to help defend your precious ruins?" Rita suddenly found her nails to be absolutely captivating.

"Your conscience." He deadpanned. "Now get on your feet and lend me a hand."

She laughed. "You're right. Alright," she dusted herself off and started rolling her shoulder-blades.

"What I don't understand is how you fight in that outfit." Ging eyed her disapprovingly.

Rita found it slightly preposterous that his precious artifacts were about to be obliterated, and yet the old man found time and focus to rank on her choice of clothes.

"Hop off will you?" She crossed her arms. "I like the black."

"Well I wasn't referring to the color, but alright."

She didn't find anything particularly wrong about it. It clung to her like a second skin—and maybe, just maybe it Ging could hate on how tight it was—but that was the point; minimizing wind-resistance and this maximizing speed and power.

Other than that, it covered every part of her; unlike haughty men, Rita didn't like showing off her battle wounds.

Another ear-shattering boom split the air.

Hurry up and get here already, I'm irritated and I haven't been able to punch anything in weeks.

The west wall suddenly fell in on itself and a cloud of dust obscured her vision. Rita heard vague coughing coming from Ging as well, as they waited for the blasted dirt to clear.

A silhouette suddenly became visible through the cloud of brown dust, clad in all black just like her.

The figure was carrying a book under his left arm and had across on his forehead; he seemed pale, almost to the point where anemia could have been a valid inquiry to make.

"Now where was the treasure room again…?" The figure mumbled, pulling out his phone and staring at it curiously.

Rita clenched her fists and flared her aura in order to catch his attention.

The black-clad figure whipped around to face her, demonstrating his terrifying speed, but...

The girl sneered.

Baring down on him was now an enormous wall of red-hot flames.

TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: Holy crap, a double update! Am I even me? I've never written so much in one day, I am so exhausted. -_- I hope this new beginning is to your liking! As you can see, there was been a time skip, and our heroine as suffered memory loss! Get used to the name Rita! Please read and review, and if there's anything confusing at all, please mention it! I banged these last two chapters out in one day so it will probably seem incredibly rushed! Also, I think for this chapter only, I'll skimp out on the quotes! Haha, it's 2:20ish in the morning right now, so please cut me some slack! Again, thanks again for your recent support! See you guys soon!