Rise from the Ashes:
Chapter II:
Blackmail
October 5th, XX21 : Age 20 : In the Spider's lair
Later that night, he woke up to hushed voices outside of the room he currently occupied and a dimmed ceiling of caramel. The mattress beneath him creaked as he shifted slightly towards the voices, and then all movement seized as he held his breath, waiting for their reaction.
"What do we do with him?" a gruff voice asked. Kurapika assumed that he was the 'him' they were speaking off. The pretty blond was understandably interested in the consensus of this conversation. After all, he was a reasonably attractive young man with a genius-level intellect. The world couldn't quite afford to lose him yet. And more importantly, there were villains still at large that he needed to chain down in hell.
"I don't know, Nobu," another voice mocked, annoyed. "Maybe we should do as Danchou said and wait for him to come back."
"Yeah, but what if he wakes up?" So, they hadn't noticed. Could he move? Yes. His movements might be a little jagged and disoriented, but he should be okay in the stealth department. His eyes darted around the room. It was surprisingly well furnished, with a mahogany desk and comfortable-looking swivel chair in one corner. The bed he currently rested on was absolutely heavenly compared to the one in his dorm. Kind of like a cloud compared to the cold, hard ground. He felt warm and safe and ready to fall back into an easy slumber. But no. He had to get out of here. The bay window would lead him to believe they were in a deciduous forest. There were no woods surrounding their city. How far had they taken him? It didn't matter. Well, it did, but not right now.
His phone. Did he have his phone?
As quietly as he could, he checked his pockets. Then, he remembered that that man had taken it from him. Pick-pocketed twice and then kidnapped. What a day! He knew he should've just gone back to the dorm. Skipped class. Not gotten out of bed at all?
"What's there to think about anyway?" Nobunaga continued. "We get rid of him just like we always do when someone catches us."
Ah, shit. They were thieves and murderers? Couldn't they be some kind of Robin Hoods who let you go after giving you some treasure, or whatever it was Robin Hood did? Did he kill people too? Kurapika had never liked that one. Mostly because it glorified a thief.
Great, now his thoughts were becoming hysterical. He needed to calm down. To think.
He could run away right now. Jump through the window and hope the forest wasn't too big. Whatever the case, he had to get out before they noticed he was awake, and definitely before that man - Danchou, was it? - came back.
"Yo, Danchou!" the man said, happily, sounding much like a child greeting its mother. "Yeah, he's still asleep. No, we haven't done anything to him. Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh. Wait, seriously?! Okay, I guess."
"What did he say?"
Yes, yes, what did he say? Spit it out already, so he could plan accordingly.
"He said he'll be here in ten minutes."
Okay. He could work with that.
"But to give him another dose before he gets back."
He couldn't work with that.
"I'll get the tranquilizer."
Shit. He had to go now.
So, with one surprisingly swift motion, the blond quietly slipped to the window and jumped out of it. Straight onto the tree branch right outside.
Dear Grandfather (may you rest in peace),
Thank you for teaching me those 'Tarzan' moves. I will never ridicule them again.
Sincerely,
Your Beloved Grandson (I swear I'm getting to the avenging part)
A few seconds after he'd gotten out of sight, he heard a monstrous, "Shit!" come from the inside. That Nobunaga fellow without a doubt.
He set off through the forest, running as fast and far as his legs could take him, taking care to make sure his movements were random and unpredictable. How long could he keep going? How long would it take for them to find him? Did they even need to go into the forest? Were there people on the outskirts already waiting for him?
He decided it didn't matter. Right now he had to stay alive as long as possible.
How big was this forest? Were there paths? Would they try the paths first?
His foot caught on something, tripping him. He got up, brushing himself off and ignoring the pain in his hands.
Were they really going to kill him? Torture him? What did they mean by getting rid of someone? Whatever it was, it didn't sound too appealing.
"I must say, you're good at running away."
Kurapika whirled around to see a man, half-obscured by shadows. He recognized him. It was that Quwrof fellow. He knew he'd sounded familiar. So, that man was a part of these thieves? Was he their leader, perhaps? He certainly had a sort of authority about him. Something in the persistent ghost of a smile that made you want to listen to whatever made it come about. Something in his obsidian eyes that made you want to solve this mystery of a man. His dark hair in the wind and pale skin glowing in the moonlight making him look almost like an apparition. A good-looking apparition.
Damn. This was no time for poetry! No matter how attractive the man was! He probably killed people. He was definitely a thief. And he definitely took advantage of his frantic, sleep-deprived state earlier today. He might have an amazing body, but he was dead inside!
Kurapika jumped up onto a tree branch. The man whistled.
"A regular man of the woods, aren't you?" he commented from below.
He didn't listen, desperate to get us far away from the vampire-y man as possible. One foot after another, like climbing really steep steps. And then, he'd go from there. There was no way he'd catch him in the dark. The trees were too thick, the moon's light too dim.
Just as he turned to jump onto the next branch. He nearly fell off when he saw what was waiting for him on the other side.
"Unfortunately for you, so am I," the man smiled, the corners of his mouth turned up in a harmless, friendly manner. He sat there casually, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He looked so . . . so . . . unlike a murdering thief.
You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.
Well, he wasn't a fly. Though, the man in front of him strangely reminded him of a spider. Kurapika had never liked spiders.
"Don't run," the man said, unhelpfully. "You'll just tire yourself out. After all, I'm not here to bring you back."
Kurapika almost snapped at him. As if he was going to believe that.
The blond jumped up and took hold of another branch, climbing higher. The man below him suddenly appeared above.
"I have a proposition," he continued. Kurapika glared and fell back to land on another branch. He felt a presence behind him. He turned on his heel to face the man once more. He gazed down at the forest floor. It was only a few feet below now, he could jump down.
He let himself fall into a squat before taking off again. The man followed.
"You're not very good at listening, are you?" he asked, catching up to him without breaking a sweat. Kurapika grimaced. He was the second best runner in school, behind only Killua. What was this guy?
"I'm fine, actually," Kurapika replied, cursing himself for replying to the man. "Just not when it comes to kidnapping thieves."
"Would it help if I apologized?"
"No."
"Didn't think so. You look really nice tonight." The man didn't even seem out of breath. And now he was trying to flirt? Seriously, what was he?
"What?!"
"You look good in moonlight. Not that you don't look nice in sunlight. I've just always preferred moonlight. How about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
Kurapika tried to bite his tongue to stop from replying, but it was rather difficult. The man somehow made you want to talk to him.
"Sunlight."
"Because you're so bright and cheerful?" Was that sarcasm he detected?
"No." Because it was dark outside when they died. Man, his lungs were burning. How long were they going to -
He tripped. He tripped on a frickin' tree root. A tree root! His ankle hurt. Was it sprained? Oh God! Pairo was going to freak out.
While he was inspecting his ankle and his mind was slowly running towards the threshold of a panic attack, the man kneeled down beside him, looking slightly less cheerful. In fact, he looked almost worried.
"Look, sweetie," he started, placing his thumb and index finger on his ankle, appraising the damage. Kurapika's mind came to a stop on just one word.
Sweetie?
"I'd love to chase you until dawn hits, but I've got work to do so you're going to have to listen to me," he said, fingers disappearing from his possibly injured joint. "You're fine, by the way. Get up."
Kurapika almost pouted, but decided against it and stood up. He was clearly at a disadvantage here.
"Alright, what do you want?" Kurapika asked.
"I'll let you go, and you never speak of our encounter again," he offered. "You get back to your life of perpetual boredom."
"I'm not bored!"
"And I get back to stealing from the rich."
"Stop making it sound so normal!"
"And everyone lives happily ever after."
"Except for the people you keep stealing from."
"Yes! Except for them!" He smiled like a teacher would when their favorite student finally got a certain concept right.
Kurapika sighed, dipping his head as he contemplated the implications of accepting. He was planning on becoming a detective one day, for God's sake. How could he just let a possibly wanted criminal off the hook for good just to gain his freedom and possibly lengthen his lifespan?
But he was a self-preserving prick deep down inside, so unless it was to kill that other prick who killed his family, he wasn't dying just yet.
Still.
"What if I refuse?" he asked because he had to know at least.
"Then, I'll let my less civilized comrades deal with you. Feitan, in particular, starts by peeling off your fingernails first. He makes it excruciatingly long, though it also happens to be extremely effective."
His fingers suddenly stung a bit. Strange.
"How do you know I won't lie to you?" he asked.
"Oh, I might stalk you for a while. Don't worry though, it'll only be for a little while," the man assured. He was smiling again as if he hadn't just told him one of his partners in crime liked to torture people for fun.
"Stalk?"
"Don't worry," he said, trying to wave away whatever worries he might have. "You won't even know I'm there. Unless, you want me to be there, in which case, just call my name."
"Your name?"
"Chrollo. Chrollo Lucilfer." How fitting.
"I thought it was Quwrof Wrillcyfur," he said, knowing that he had pronounced it wrong. "Are you Welsh, by any chance."
"I'm Italian, technically." Was he going along with it? Kurapika had to admit the man had charisma. "On my mother's side. Though, I never actually knew her. I found out through the internet. My father was from London apparently."
"I did not need to know that."
"Eh, wouldn't you like to know more about your stalker?" the man asked, innocently, eyes wide with mocking curiosity. Kurapika rolled his eyes away from the dashing grin.
"Not particularly," Kurapika said, eyes glaring at the hand on his shoulder. When had that gotten there? "Mind letting me go now?"
"Yes, but I suppose that doesn't really matter," the criminal said, releasing him. Kurapika promptly started walking away from him. "Will you agree to my proposal?"
His steps halted, and his eyes studied the darkened falling leaves of orange and yellow. He bit his lip in deliberation.
"Yes."
He had failed as an aspiring detective, a defender of justice, but hey, at least he got to live?
October 5th, XX21 : Age 20 : In front of Kurapika's Residence Hall
"So, this is your home?" the thief asked, eyes darting as he memorized the place. At least, Kurapika suspected he was memorizing it.
"Yes," he said, removing himself from the ridiculously expensive car. Sleek, black, probably stolen. The poor blond felt uncomfortable just looking at.
Chrollo started getting out of the car as well, fitting in well with his expensive suit and weird earrings. Just another privileged rich college student.
"What are you doing?" Kurapika asked, voice slightly condescending as the man walked past him and towards the front doors.
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, "I'm walking you to your door. I can't let a dashing young man like yourself walk through such dangerous halls by yourself."
"I've walked through them plenty of times before, trust me," Kurapika answered, copying the man's carefree tone.
"I also wanna see where you live."
He wasn't going to get a wink of sleep tonight, was he?
. . .
October 6th, XX21 : Age 20 : Dorm Room
He slept surprisingly well that night, well, morning. Probably from all that running. A few hours later, he woke up, feeling quite comfortable on a Saturday morning. No classes, no stress, just studying. Oh, he had that date with Pairo too.
He smiled. Today was gonna be a great day.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" Someone pulled open the curtains, letting the sunlight stream in. Kurapika groaned. The good thing about Saturdays was that one could laze around as long as they wanted. Who had the audacity to take that away from him?
He was suddenly rolled over onto his back. A pale face loomed over him, dark hair brushed his face. A grin tugged at the corner of the criminal's face.
Kurapika sat up, rigid and stiff. "How did you get in?"
Chrollo raised an eyebrow at that comment.
"Right, thief." Flimsy locks plus thief equals breaking and entering.
Kurapika yawned, pushing some blonde hair out of his eyes, only to have something shoved in his mouth.
"Pancakes. Chew. Swallow. Tell me what you think," the man ordered, eyes wavering in anticipation.
Kurapika savored the taste, letting the flat cake melt in his mouth. It was delicious. The texture fluffy and soaked in maple-syrup just long enough. For a second, Kurapika almost forgot this was a criminal feeding him.
"It's great. Now get out."
The man pouted. "You're so mean, Pikachu."
"What did you just call me?" he asked, tone icy, gaze frigid. The whole room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature.
"Bringing up bad memories?"
"Don't you dare call me that again," Kurapika threatened, getting uncomfortably close to the other man. The blond smiled. "Understood?"
"Yessir, you won't be hearing any distasteful nicknames from me, Sir, no Sir," he joked, but the blonde simply sent him another glare, took the plate of pancakes and slowly backed up against the headboard. He couldn't just let good food go to waste. People were starving all around the world. It would be ungrateful to turn his nose up at food.
The man watched him eat, a wide smile on his face.
"I thought I told you to leave."
"I know. I ignored you. You're cute when you eat." He certainly didn't beat around the bush, did he? Perhaps, he should tell him about Pairo.
"I'm in a relationship with someone," the blond avenger said, monotonously, as he popped another piece of pancake in his mouth.
"Oh, what's her name?"
"It's a he, actually," Kurapika replied, completely enraptured in the fluffy fluffiness of the fluffy pancakes.
"Ah-ha! So, you do swing that way!" Chrollo said, far too excited for Kurapika's liking.
"And I'm dating someone," Kurapika enunciated.
"Oh, I can work with that," Chrollo said, waving the fact away. That didn't bode well for Kurapika.
"I'm done now." The blond held out the empty plate for him to take. Every last piece had disappeared in a matter of minutes. "So you can take your leave. I need to shower."
"I'll come with you!"
"No!" He slammed the door.
. . .
October 6th, XX21 : Age 20 : In The Courtyard
"Are you okay?" Pairo asked, as the blond wrapped his lithe arms around the taller man. A hand traveled up to his honey-colored hair, stroking it.
"I just . . . need to forget something terrible," Kurapika mumbled, burying his pretty, pale face in Pairo's black jacket. He smelled nice. Kurapika couldn't quite place it, but it felt safe somehow. Like if safe had a scent it would be Pairo.
"Bad morning, hmm? What happened?" he asked, kissing his temple.
"Cinnamon," the blonde finally realized.
"Cinam - oh, yeah, Cyrena made me help her bake another batch of snickerdoodles. Mostly me actually baking, and her looming over my shoulder to see how far along I was." Pairo cringed at the memory.
Kurapika laughed. "Was it that bad?"
"Worse."
Another laugh.
"C'mon," Pairo said, shifting to stand beside him, one arm circling his waist, "we should get going. What was that place you wanted to see?"
"Madame Simone's Bookshop," Kurapika answered.
"Again?"
"Yes, again. They just got the newest collection of nineteenth century classics. Crime & Punishment, The Count of Monte Cristo, Anna Karenina, the Tale of Two Cities, Les Miserables, Hunchback of Notre Dame. But most of all: All of Jane Austen's and Oscar Wilde's works. Every! Single! One!"
"Don't you own all of those already?" Pairo asked, smiling at the blond's enthusiasm as he pulled him to the bookstore.
"But not in this edition!"
"And who's going to pay for all that?" Ah, the dreaded question.
"So, I might have to cut my wishlist down a bit," Kurapika said, running a hand through his hair as he often did when he realized how carried away he'd gotten.
Pairo smirked. "Just a little."
The two of them spent hours in Madame Simone's Bookshop. Madame Simone herself knew them well and offered a lower price for the books Kurapika planned on getting. The blond had initially refused, but the woman was a tough nut to crack. She dug her heels in on that one, and in the end, Kurapika got at least half the books he'd wanted. Half because even with the lowered price, if he'd gotten any more, both Pairo and he would be bankrupt. And they liked being able to afford food.
Of course, through all those hours, Kurapika felt eyes on him. Black, bright eyes that followed him everywhere and made it hard to focus on the books. Something told him the owner wasn't simply making sure he didn't tell anyone about his little encounter with his band of thieves. The guy was clearly checking him out. He hardly interacted with him though, save for a few comments on his choice of books when Pairo was elsewhere, ranging from "I didn't take you for a romantic" to "the third edition of this one is far better than the fifth. Don't waste your money."
In the end, his little comments proved to be rather helpful in deciding which books to take.
So, he was still a horrible person, just a horrible person with good taste in books.
"Ah," Pairo mumbled, as he gazed down at his phone. They were walking to their favorite coffee shop now, Kurapika having a sudden craving for a latte. "I have to go. Leorio says that Cyrena is trying to burn the apartment down again."
Kurapika stiffened at the word 'burn,' and Pairo looked down at him apologetically.
"Sorry, I keep forgetting to stop mentioning fire around you," he whispered, tightening the arm around his shoulders. "You okay?"
Kurapika nodded. "I'm fine." It was so long ago. He couldn't be afraid of fire forever, but every time he saw a flame, heard someone mention something burning, he froze and the cold fury bubbled back up. His throat would grow thick, and speaking would become a challenge.
And it was all that arsonist's doing.
"You go," Kurapika smiled, placing an encouraging hand on his. "I don't mind."
Pairo pursed his lips, reluctant to let him go, but then bent down to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.
"I'll see you later," he whispered in his ear.
"Okay."
The blond watched him leave and then allowed himself fall back on the bench behind him with a long sigh.
"It's been so long." And yet, he couldn't help but be happy that his rage hadn't faded.
It meant he still had the determination to utterly eradicate the targets of his fury. What he had worked since he was thirteen.
"You guys are pretty cute, I gotta say," the man sitting beside him on the wooden bench suddenly lost his grip of the upper half of his newspaper, letting it fold of its own accord before dropping it in his lap.
Kurapika nearly fell off the bench.
"Stop sneaking up on me like that!" he scolded, not even bothering to confirm who it was.
"Sneaking up? I've been here the whole time, you just didn't notice," Chrollo defended, sticking his nose in the air and placing a hand to his chest as if he was disgusted that one could throw such accusations at him.
"That is not the point," Kurapika replied, as he quickly regained his careful composure.
"Well," Chrollo said, looking up at the sky, "I suppose that just proves what an incredible stalker I am. I mean, I was right next to you, and still you didn't notice me."
"Perhaps, you just have a thin presence," Kurapika muttered, placing one elbow on the back of the bench and supporting his chin on his hand, still looking away from the man.
"Oh?" Chrollo uttered, voice just a tad deeper than usual. The man suddenly leaned in so the blond could practically feel his hot breath on his ear. It took every shred of his self-control not to shove his face away. "Would you like me to make myself more conspicuous."
Kurapika grimaced at his seductive tone and quickly pushed himself off the bench. "You really don't know when to give up."
The man shook his head, smiling charmingly all the while.
"I hope you learn," Kurapika said, coolly, shifting all his weight to one leg and placing a hand on his hip.
"Unlikely," Chrollo muttered, before leaning back on the bench and fixing him with a curious, quizzical look, "so, what's your thing with fire."
Kurapika froze again.
"That bad, hmmm?" Chrollo said, looking him up and down. "Well, I suppose it's not too important."
And somehow, someway Kurapika told him anyway. Because he wanted to tell someone at that moment. Heck, he needed to.
"Almost seven years ago," he started, voice thick with fury and grief and all the years of suffering that followed just one day, "I had been at the library at the time. It had already gotten dark when I heard about the fire. The firefighters had tried to put it out, but it was too strong. In the end, no one got out. Few weeks later, it was revealed to be an arsonist's doing."
They both sat in silence for a second, as if honoring Kurapika's friends and family who had burned in that building.
"My condolences," Chrollo said, getting up and walking past him, placing a passing hand on his shoulder. "It must've been difficult."
There was something off about his apology. Something far too understanding. Like he knew more than he was letting on, and was hiding it behind a facade of patronizing pity.
With a sudden purpose to his movements, Kurapika jumped in front of the taller man.
"Do you know who they are?" he asked, eyes wide with something. Something foreign. Excitement, perhaps. The type that chilled you to the bone and sent your blood boiling all at once. The feeling that your goal was getting impossibly closer.
"They?" Oh, he did. He knew them well, too.
"The arson. You know them, yes?" Kurapika asked, his accent showing in the midst of his enthusiasm. The man in front of him tried - and failed - to fend of the smile forcing its way onto his face.
"I've no idea what you're talking about," Chrollo answered. "That accent. You're not a native speaker, are you? Let me guess, uh, French?"
"A village on the coast called Lukso, and you're trying to change the subject," Kurapika said, crossing his arms, ignoring the people who had to walk around them. The man in front of him finally swapped the careless visage for something more stoic. "You can't fool me. I know when people lie."
"A built-in psychic lie detector, perhaps?"
"Something like that. Where I'm from, we just call it talent." It was actually a family gift, but he didn't need to know that.
"Fascinating."
"I'm not a museum exhibit. Now, spill!"
"I am under no obligation to tell you anything, blondie," the man said, and tried to move around him. Kurapika simply followed him, blocking his path each time. Was it childish? Yes, but Kurapika thought he could let himself slip up just this once.
"And I am no longer under any obligation to keep your little secret. You might have an advantage over that forest. This city is my territory," the blond snapped, eyes almost glowing with determination. He was not letting this chance pass by, dammit! He'd get him to agree even if it took weeks. Months. Years.
Chrollo stepped up to the blond almost menacingly, and lifted a hand to his cheek, his fingers mingling with his golden tresses. Kurapika stared back, undaunted.
"You forget yourself, little one," he whispered, almost lovingly. An act to fool the passers-by, no doubt. His fingers clutched the hair they were tangled in and pulled just enough to send small bouts of pain in an attempt to sway him. Kurapika stood still, not even wincing in pain. Staring at the other man with adamant coffee eyes, prodding the man's mind into submission.
"Am I? This is just business, after all. The way I see it, we both have something the other wants. My complete silence for some tiny bits of information," Kurapika said, voice steady and equally friendly despite the pain in his skull.
"I could silence you right now," the man threatened, almost losing that calming timbre.
Kurapika gave a light laugh, and he praised himself for his amazing acting abilities. A dash of psychotic laughter was just what he needed to get his chess pieces in position. "Trust me, this is one dead man you'll never be able to silence."
Obsidian eyes scanned his face, probably for signs of bluffing. Kurapika smirked inwardly. He never bluffed. That just wasn't his style.
"Victoria and Vlad Volkov," Chrollo finally whispered. "They're twins. Used to be one of us before I kicked them out."
"Why'd you kick them out?"
"Don't interrupt me," Chrollo chided. "I kicked them out because they had distasteful methods. I'm a thief, not an animal. Anyway, they're both pyromaniacs. By age ten, they'd already burned down half their village."
"And no one has ever caught them?" Kurapika asked a bit too loudly if Chrollo's inwardly-scolding expression was anything to go by.
"They're never in the area when the fire occurs," Chrollo explained, his voice still barely above a whisper. "Only the underworld really knows about them, and even that's just a handful of people. Either way, you'll do well to forget about whatever schemes you're plotting against them."
"And why would I do that?" Kurapika scoffed as the man finally slid past him, the hand gripping his hair disappearing.
Chrollo turned back oh-so-dramatically, smiled, and said, "because the Volkovs don't leave survivors."
Well.
Shit.
. End of Chapter .
A/N: What will happen? Chrollo refuses to help Kurapika. Kurapika doesn't show any signs of giving up. KuraPairo is being adorable and it makes me feel bad that I might have to break them apart eventually. Anyway, I've got two more chapters written for this fic. They're just waiting to be edited. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review, follow, and favorite this story! Every little bit counts : ). Oh, and I hope none of you mind me using Chrollo instead of Kuroro. I see Kuroro used more often by the fandom, but the manga and anime call him Chrollo. Meh. They're both better than Quwrof. WTF are those names, Togashi?