(Imagine Melody as Deku's mom from My Hero Academia.)
Rise From The Ashes:
Chapter 10:
A tooth for a tooth
December 6th, XX21 : Age 20 : Spider's Mansion
His body went limp as soon as the bullet ripped through his chest. The shot had been perfect, worthy of the most skilled gunman. Blood pooled in the center, his head fell to the side as if he'd fallen asleep. His blue eyes, clear as the blanket of ice on a lake, had been left wide open and dulled. Thin lips parted slightly, caught in the middle of his final breath.
Kurapika felt nothing, except perhaps the embers of his fury still burning quietly somewhere within him, doused slightly by the realization of his vengeance on half his target.
"Kurapika," Chrollo whispered his name, gentle and wary, as if approaching a wounded feral animal. "Give me the gun now." Warm hands wrapped around his, prying the dark pistol from his cold fingers.
Next, people started filing in. First came Paku, then Shalnark, Machi, followed by Nobu and Uvogin, Phinks, Franklin, Bonolenov. Lastly, a tired Kortopi, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and carrying what looked like a pillow in his hand. Feitan and Shizuku were nowhere to be seen for some reason.
"What happened?" Paku asked, eyes surveying the room and coming to their own conclusion.
Kurapika felt Chrollo place his hands on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as he was led out of the room.
"Wake Shizuku up," Chrollo ordered, before locking the office door behind him.
Silence followed, one not knowing what to say and the other not caring enough to say anything. There were scrapes heard in the next room, followed by what sounded like a vacuum starting up and the quiet whisper of voices too quiet and too mingled to pull apart.
Kurapika spoke first. "I'm surprised you didn't stop me."
"You asked me not to."
The blonde looked up, coffee brown eyes taking more of a honey shade in the warm light. On the inside, he still couldn't seem to fester up any particular emotion. It wasn't what he'd expected. Maybe a sense of triumph or crushing guilt. Not . . . emptiness.
"It's normal," said the older man, tipping his chin up. "To not feel anything at first."
"And then what?" Curiosity was all that lay beneath that question.
"We'll see," he answered, nonchalantly, removing his hand. "No one's the same. I gather you'll have nightmares until the end of your life and blame yourself a little more every day."
"Why's that?"
"Because you're not a murderer."
His brow furrowed in confusion, but the man said nothing to elaborate. He just crossed the room and opened another door, this one leading to his own room.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather keep an eye on you from now on," said the man. "And don't worry, my intentions are pure."
He let a curl of exasperation fill him at that unnecessary comment, but he stepped inside the room anyway.
"Mostly."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing," the man sang, following him inside with a cheerful smile.
The room itself was about the size of his own, with books lining the walls and a few - probably stolen - paintings adorning them. It looked almost normal.
"Get some sleep," Chrollo suggested, messing up his hair. "I've still got some work to do, but I'll be along shortly."
Kurapika flattened down his golden locks, glaring at the man. He wasn't a child and disliked being treated like one. "Take your time."
Without further ado, the blond collapsed on the bed and curled into a fetal position. It wasn't as soft as his own, but it wasn't too hard. Something sitting comfortably in the middle, smelling distinctly of Chrollo. A scent he couldn't quite place but was intoxicating and soothing nonetheless. Falling asleep wasn't much of a problem, surprisingly. He had no nightmares, no dreams, and when he woke, it was to the same cold emptiness he'd felt before. Wondering if he wasn't what Chrollo thought him to be, the man picked himself off the bed. He wasn't alright. Being emotionless after a potentially traumatizing event was never good. But . . . it wasn't like he was reacting badly either. Perhaps, after planning and preparing to first see them behind bars and then kill them with his own hands for years, his actions actually catching up with his ambitions had come as no surprise?
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a sleeping dark-haired man spread out on the bay window as if guarding the room against an outside attack. His head tipped slightly downwards, lips forming a thin line of neutrality and midnight hair falling into lidded eyes. The light of the winter sun making him almost seem ethereal. But there were other things Kurapika hadn't noticed before. Like the fact that there were dark circles under his eyes, or that a small, thin scar across his cheek marred his otherwise perfect skin. Or that there was a cross tattoo on his forehead.
Wait.
That hadn't been there before.
With slight hesitance, he reached out to touch the strange mark, but before he could so much as brush his fingertips on the inky black cross, his hand was snatched away. Dark, stoic eyes stared at him, taking him in, before releasing his hand and softening a bit. A small smile graced his lips, an easy, sincere little curl at the edges of his mouth.
"Is there something you need?" he asked.
"I never took you for the tattoo type," replied the blond, conversationally.
His eyes widened a fraction, then glanced away. "It was a long time ago."
"That's the 'branding' you talked about in your book," Kurapika continued, despite the fact it was clearly a touchy subject. "The one the elders gave Lucifer."
"Yes."
He'd never imagined that part was real. It seemed excessive, even for a past like his, and that cross mark had never shown on his forehead before.
"You cover it up."
"I do."
"Why? Are they . . ." He couldn't finish. He wasn't sure if he knew how to finish that sentence. These elders were a mystery even in the books. Who knew? Maybe even Chrollo himself had no idea what their end goal was. Had been. Were they even still alive?
The man shook his head, black hair following the motion as if it had caught on the wind. He looked serious, as he usually did when his past came up. Kurapika supposed that was unavoidable given the circumstances. That didn't mean he didn't want to know more.
"I was their golden child," Chrollo explained, bitterly. New emotions were popping up everywhere with this man. "But they were scared at the same time. As soon as they lost control of me they decided to cut off our arrangement."
More like tried to cut off your head. "How'd you get away?"
"I didn't. I got strong enough to make them want to run the other way at the sight of me," he said, smiling devilishly, eyes growing dark with the memory. Kurapika felt a shiver climb up his spine but blamed it on Chrollo cranking up his deadly criminal aura. Because there was no way he could be attracted to that.
A few seconds passed and he was suddenly back to his normal self, all concern for Kurapika and no traces of darkness in the shadows of his expression.
"And you? How are you holding up?"
Kurapika shrugged. "I think I'm still in the processing stage."
"You even got to sleep last night. You're more of an enigma than I thought, Kurapika Kurta," the man complimented. Or at least it sounded like a compliment, but with Chrollo you could never really tell.
"It's not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
He shrugged noncommittally. "Feelings?"
Chrollo chuckled a bit. "Hmm, by the way, you might wanna change out of those clothes."
Huh? He looked down at his sleepwear. It looked norm-oh. There were specks of dried blood all over, small and almost invisible on the bluish fabric. He hadn't even noticed. But then, he had just killed someone. Who checked out the state of their clothes right after they killed someone?
"Right," he heard himself say. And right as he was about to enter the scene of the crime, his steps stalled. He shook his head and ignored the nagging feeling. Grasping the brass doorknob, turning it, and walking into his previous living arrangements.
His pulse suddenly became erratic as his eyes fell on the blood staining the pristine floor. The bullet had pierced the wall, leaving a small indent. He'd been the one to cause this. There was a man whose life had been cut short by him.
The life of a murderer, he told himself. That man had burned his family alive. He deserved punishment. He deserved worse.
But was this really a question of what he deserved?
The moment he pulled the trigger, he stopped being a victim. He became a murderer. It wasn't self-defense, he wasn't trying to save anyone. He'd acted because Volkov had been vulnerable. There had been an opening.
He was a murderer. Just like them.
His stomach turned, the feeling of nausea so overwhelming he fell back on the bed, sitting there, staring as his hand came up to cover his mouth. And then he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close.
"And there it is," he heard Chrollo mutter.
"Why didn't you stop me?" Kurapika rarely asked the same question twice, but this time, he felt justified. Chrollo had been five steps away. Why hadn't he taken the gun away? It couldn't simply be because of his request.
"Because you asked me to."
"You're lying."
"And because I rather see you unravel right in front of me rather than alone."
Kurapika swallowed down the nausea and focused on the other man's words. "Why would you want to see me unravel?"
"So I could know the best way to help you," he explained. Kurapika raised a dubious eyebrow, waiting for more. "And so you wouldn't be able to hide it from me."
"I wouldn't hide it -"
Chrollo just gave him a skeptical look and he caved.
"Ok, so maybe I would."
"It's not a bad thing," Chrollo replied. "You're too compassionate to let other people deal with your problems. However, at some point it becomes harmful. I wanted to help both of us avoid that."
"So, you let me murder someone in front of you?" Kurapika summed up, almost incredulously, as he leaned away from the man like he'd sprouted another head.
"Precisely."
Kurapika had been ready to shoot back something catty and resentful, but he was cut off by the sound of a door slamming.
"I came as soon as I heard!" Melody?
A middle-aged woman with dark red hair and orange eyes suddenly took the young man in her arms, hugging him tightly, before pulling back. She was a little shorter than Kurapika, chubby and rather cute.
"Are you alright?" she asked, taking his face in her hands. "Pairo told me everything. I always knew that fire was fishy. Oh dear, you look so pale."
"I'm fine," he answered, despite the fact he felt his face was being squashed. It was strange seeing his guardian so worked up. She was usually so calm and quiet. "Are you?"
She breathed a sigh of relief, placing her hand over her heart. "Oh dear, you nearly gave me a heart attack. As soon as Pairo told me about what happened. Oh goodness, you're a troublesome child."
"Gee, thanks," Kurapika muttered. "Did you come all the way from the Orphanage?"
"Pairo came to pick me up," answered the woman. "You should go talk to him. He's waiting outside, not sure what to do with himself. Try not to laugh at him reciting what he wants to say to you."
Kurapika rolled his eyes, but the shadow of a fond smile flit across his face. "Will do." He got up, ended up being hugged by Melody one more time for good measure, cast Chrollo a meaningful look, and then went on to meet his anxiety-ridden boyfriend. He'd ask Chrollo how said boyfriend figured out about this later.
The blond caught some of the members giving him a variety of different looks. Some looked worried, others pitiful, many others either proud or full of a respect he hadn't seen before. Then there were the others, Feitan in particular, who gazed at him with little emotion at all.
He ignored them, focusing instead on the lean, muscular figure of the man outside. Pairo was pacing from one side of the porch to the other. The avenger crossed the threshold with little hesitance. He couldn't stop to think because then he might lose his courage, and that would make him a coward.
"Hey."
Pairo jumped a bit, before turning to him, and suddenly all his anxiety blew away with the wind. The man simply gathered the smaller blond in his arms, holding him so close and tight Kurapika could swear he felt his ribs cracking.
Then, he loosened his grip, holding him at arm's length, and Kurapika saw tears of frustration and relief welling up in his eyes. The taller man took his face in his hands, much like Melody had a few minutes prior, though not as tightly.
"Hey, yourself," he replied. "How are you doing?"
Kurapika shrugged. "Fine, I guess."
"Are you sure? You have just killed a man?" Pairo whispered, voice gentle despite the subject, not a single layer of disgust in his tone.
Kurapika winced nonetheless. "How much did they tell you?" How can you look at me like that knowing all I've done?
"Just that you were attacked by one of the twins, and that you killed them. In self-defense," he tacked on the last part, hastily, and Kurapika felt his heart sink. He didn't know. He was the one who would have to tell him. To see the emotions flash across his face as he tried to make sense of everything.
"Chrollo had already shot him in the leg," Kurapika confessed, backing away and wrapping his own arms around himself, trying to keep out the cold threatening to engulf him. "He had already been immobilized when I killed him."
And then he would say . . .
"What are you trying to get at?" His voice incredulous, like he couldn't believe the man he loved could have sunk so low.
"I killed him when he was already down," said the blond. One word ran through his mind.
Murderer.
The man replied, "well . . . that's . . ." He swallowed thickly, trying to unplug the words that had stuck to the walls of his throat.
"Horrible?" Kurapika tried for a joke.
"No!" Pairo quickly refuted, before lowering his voice. "I mean, no. I mean, it's just a bit of a shock is all."
You don't have to pretend.
"I'll get used to it."
You shouldn't have to.
"We'll work it out."
Is it something we can work out?
Kurapika smiled, pink lips curving back into a charming smile, as the winter wind caressed his blond locks. "Right. Of course, we will."
Pairo stepped closer then, moving to place some loose hair behind his ear, to no avail since the wind was a stubborn force and kept picking it back up. He didn't seem to mind, as their foreheads touched and his arms went to wrap around Kurapika's waist again.
"I love you."
"Hmm," he hummed in acknowledgment, enjoying the warmth.
. . .
December 8th, XX21 : Age 20 : Spider's Mansion
"Leave?" Kurapika asked, finding the notion absolutely absurd. Running away was never the answer. Your past always ended up chasing you down, pinning you to the ground. The man currently acted as almost an instructor, what with his pristine suit and the presentation board. And these seats! Did they steal them from a high school or something?
He acknowledged him with a half-amused, half-annoyed expression that left Kurapika with a mixed bag of emotions he didn't even want to start to pick apart. "Yes. Leave. Only until we get rid of the other one. After that, you can do whatever you want."
"What about you?" queried the blond. Not because he was worried, he wasn't! Alright, maybe a little, but to be fair, these people had almost killed him a few weeks ago. He was understandably concerned for the man who'd saved him.
"I'll be fine," Chrollo waved away the tense atmosphere. "I've taken a shot to the chest and two to the stomach before and lived."
"You have?"
"No."
Kurapika scowled. "Will you please be serious about this?"
"I am serious. Anyway, back to the plan," Chrollo replied, looking quite serious, as he focused back on his Spiders. "Nobunaga will take Kurapika to the hideout. Paku, Phinks, Shal, and Machi will act as decoys. I will head over to the Volkov mansion with the rest of you. We'll take out Vicky and then get Kurapika back."
Nobunaga raised his hand as if he was a schoolboy.
"Yes, Nobu?"
"Why do I have to get stuck with the kid?" the man whined, and Kurapika proceeded to burn holes into his back.
Chrollo sighed, placing the presentation remote on the desk beside him. "Because, out of all of you, you're the one least compatible with Kurapika, and therefore believed to be the least likely to be the one driving him to Headquarters."
"But - But," he spluttered before his eyes settled on a target. He pointed at Phinks, "He put spiders in his bed!"
"Hey, I apologized!" Phinks yelled back.
And so, the fighting began.
"Are you sure you want them to look after me?" Kurapika asked again, ducking as a chair was sent flying over his head.
Chrollo winced at the clattering noise, giving the chair an exasperated look like he was planning on reprimanding it for being so loud. "Of course. I trust them."
"I don't."
The man smirked. "Would you prefer to put one of your friends in danger instead? Pairo? Wouldn't you much rather have a professional thief lead yo through such a covert operation?"
He hated when Chrollo was right. This happened more often than not in their arguments.
"Alright, just make sure not to attract attention," Kurapika said, eyeing the self-proclaimed samurai skeptically.
Nobunaga growled, "I don't need you tellin' me that, brat."
"Which means no swords," Kurapika continued, skillfully ignoring the impudent man. Months of spending time with Chrollo had polished his senses.
"What?!"
"Or robes."
"But!"
"Or palm tree hair," Kurapika added.
Nobunaga started spluttering curse words in his native tongue, held back by Phinks and Shalnark, as Uvogin laughed his head off. Kurapika massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to block out his surroundings. But behind the irritation and mind-numbing exhaustion, a small part enjoyed the company of this rowdy crowd. He'd seen more humanity in them than with most other people, despite their thieving ways.
"Well, now that that's all settled," Chrollo interrupted. "Get ready. We're leaving in the morning."
"Tomorrow?" Kurapika asked, a bit too loud. He hadn't expected it to be so soon.
"Yes. And no telling Pairo, understood?"
Kurapika pursed his lips. "Of course."
. . .
December 9th, XX21 : Age 20 : Spider's Mansion
Kurapika awoke an hour before the appointed time to the familiar jolt of nerves. Wrapping his arms around himself, he turned on his side in an attempt to hasten the coming of sleep . . . to no avail. His nerves had been stretched so far, he could feel the strings of his sanity about to break. The source of his anxiety, Kurapika couldn't quite place. Perhaps, it was the murder still sitting in the back of his mind, questioning his humanity. Maybe it was the impending journey. It was most likely both.
After five minutes of zero progress, he propped himself up and took the thick, red book from his desk. With all the blood and violence in Chrollo's retelling, you'd think it'd be harder to fall asleep. You'd be right. But Kurapika didn't want to sleep.
He lost himself in the prose, imagining Chrollo's calm, silky voice speaking the words. Would his tone change at all? It was hard to believe a man so composed could ever be anything more than that.
Michael had fallen into a critical state. With his lung collapsed and reportedly drowning in his own blood, my brother would be dead by sunrise. Usually, it wouldn't have escalated so quickly, but in Meteor City, we pride ourselves on some of the most inexperienced doctors in the world. I finally decided I had to move him to another ward outside of our home, but that was easier said than done. The one hospital in Meteor City already took more than three-fourths of the money I received from the smuggling ring. The rest of us could barely survive on that alone. As much as it pained me, I couldn't give my entire salary to my ill brother. I had twelve other mouths to feed, not counting myself, and I wasn't about to let any of them be pulled into the Council's inner workings. There had to be some other way.
Kurapika smiled despite the dark context. Chrollo's selflessness. He hadn't fully understood before he read his life story. It was an interesting contrast to his thieving persona.
The door to the studio room next door opened.
'Speak of the devil.'
The older man poked his head into view. "I saw the light was on." Recognition rippled across his pale face as he noticed the book in his hands. "I'm flattered, but I won't be responsible for your half-dead state when we get this mission on the road."
"I just woke up," Kurapika defended, turning his nose up in the air almost haughtily. "Couldn't get to sleep again. Wait, what are you -"
Before he knew it, the man had slid into the spot next to him, pulling the covers up to his waist and letting their shoulders touch. Kurapika ignored his heartbeat and tried moving away, but an arm wrapped around his waist.
"We'll stay up together," Chrollo announced, eyes on the book. "Where did you leave off?"
Kurapika pointed out the paragraph, all the while acutely aware of the other man's breath on his ear and the scent of old books and something equally comforting. They spent the rest of the time quietly reading, Chrollo finishing each page a bit faster as Kurapika tried to let everything sink in. The blond felt his hand move instinctively each time the man started turning a page he wasn't quite finished with and Chrollo would linger there, relishing his touch. The encounter felt more intimate than Kurapika than all his encounters with Pairo as of late. It's like they'd lost all common ground, their mutual love and respect for each other being the only thing keeping them together. What would happen if even that love started to fade?
The book closed suddenly.
"It's time."
Kurapika picked his head of Chrollo's surprisingly comfortable shoulder. "Right."
Chrollo gave him a fond expression. "Nervous?"
The blond nodded, slowly. He had a high-strung personality, so anxiety was nothing new, but he usually didn't feel it to such an extent.
"Just stick to the plan and you'll be fine," Chrollo reassured, threading pale fingers through platinum hair.
He hoped so, he really did.
. . .
"Okay, brat," Nobunaga started as soon as they headed out to the car. "Let's set out some ground rules."
"Agreed," Kurapika replied. "I decide on the music, am in charge of when and where we stop on the way, and how fast we're going."
Nobunaga seemed confused for a second, muttering something that sounded like an, "okay," before catching on. "No way am I letting you take charge of anything, bastard!"
"Why not?" Kurapika asked, trying his best to sound genuinely curious.
"Well, I . . . be-because,"Nobu stuttered, before catching Chrollo out of the corner of his eye. "Because Danchou put me in charge!
Kurapika smirked as a solution formed in his mind. "Heh? Well, I guess we'll have to change that. Hey, Chrollo!" The man stopped packing stuff into the back of his own vehicle, eyes meeting' Kurapika's. He immediately understood. "Can I be in charge instead?"
"You can be whatever you want, sweetie!" he called. "Just get there safe."
Sending Nobunaga one smug grin, the blond turned on his heel and gracefully slid into the passenger's seat.
"At least I'm letting you drive."
Nobu snorted, unamused as the engine started.
. . .
Kurapika amused himself with the scenery as the two of them drove by the mountains. It reminded him a bit of his hometown in Lukso.
Something silver caught his eye. Flashbacks of that night filled his vision and he blinked them away, unconsciously reaching for the gun. He inspected it closely and took it for the same model he'd used on Volkov. Used to murder him.
"Oi, put the gun down," Nobu ordered, nervously.
Kurapika didn't do as he was told, instead using it to his advantage. He had some questions he wanted answered. "About Chrollo. What is he really planning?"
"Huh?"
The blond pressed his lips into a line. He didn't much like this interrogation business. "He held another meeting a few hours later. Why?"
"No reason," Nobu replied, tone terse and cold.
He wasn't buying it for a second.
"It's about the operation with the twins, isn't it?" Kurapika concluded. "What's going on?" What could be so terrible that he wouldn't tell me?
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," Nobu assured.
It couldn't that he . . .
"He's going alone," Kurapika whispered, breathless at the revelation.
Nobunaga scoffed. "What? No! He's just -"
"Why?" If it was a good enough reason, he might consider letting him go through with this idiotic notion.
"He's not going alone. He's got plenty of back up. They're just gonna be a little further away," Nobunaga lied, and it was obvious. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact,
"Why?"
Nobu scowled. "I'm not telling you."
He raised the pistol to Nobu's head. The car swerved and Nobu scrambled to gain back control.
"Okay, fine!" the man agreed, anxious, as if his passenger had suddenly turned into a madman ready to kill him at any second. Oh, wait. "Apparently, Vicky thinks he killed Vlad. So, instead of coming after you . . ."
"She's going after her brother's murderer." For a second, he almost empathized with the woman. But then he remembered she'd killed plenty before. She deserved none of his sympathy. "You know where he is?"
"No."
"I'll take that as a yes," responded the blond, surprised at his own daring, but one thought overshadowed any doubts in his mind.
I'm not letting them take anyone else away from me.
He was going to make sure that man got out alive.
"Take me to him."
"As if," the man scoffed. It was the wrong move to make.
"Either I shoot you now and you remain immobile for the rest of the ride and end up not being to help your precious Danchou at all, or you take me there and help me get him out of there," he offered his final ultimatum.
Nobunaga scowled, but pulled over anyhow, "Danchou can handle himself."
"Maybe," Kurapika agreed. "Maybe he can. But I'm not going to take that chance. Not unless the possibility of him dying is zero."
With that one declaration, Nobu's face almost softened. "You really care about him, don't you?"
"That should come to you as no surprise."
Nobu scrutinized the barrel of the gun, squinting at it. "Alright. Fine." The subtext was clear.
But if this goes wrong, it's your fault.
Kurapika could deal with that. After murdering someone, every other little misdeed paled in comparison.
. . .
"We'll go in through the back and that split up to look for them," Kurapika ordered, strategic mind already hard at work. "Are you sure this is the place?"
Nobunaga nodded, surprisingly complacent for someone who had been calling the blond man a brat just a few hours prior. "Danchou's got a tracker on him. Only Troupe members know about it."
Smart bastard. Kurapika would probably do the same in his place.
The two of them were immediately met with a fork in the road. Two identical, old oak doors stood menacingly. The place had looked abandoned from the outside, cobwebs hanging from every nook and cranny, but the inside was immaculate. Not a spot of dirt soiled the floor, the walls coloring a calming shade of blue, and the ceiling a spotless beige hue.
"I'll go left, you go right. Get rid of anyone in the way."
"Tch, you don't have to tell me that, brat."
Kurapika was met with a marble staircase, pristine and glimmering in the pale light of the chandelier above. He heard the sound of people approaching and quietly raced up the steps before disappearing into the corridor. So, the Volkovs didn't work alone. They had people on their side. At least in here. He'd suspected this, but having it confirmed . . . what kind of people would be twisted enough to work for those two?
He lingered around, taking in the guards' appearance. They had no uniform or defining traits. Chrollo's cross suddenly flashed across his mind. Perhaps, the Volkovs used something similar to mark their employees? In that case, he wouldn't be able to play it off if someone found him. Best to stay out of their way.
But five minutes later, one of the doors in the corridor opened and three men walked out, all armed with a nasty amount of ammunition.
"Oi, what are you doing here?" one of them jabbed, placing a large, hammy fist on his shoulder. Kurapika slipped out of his grip gracefully, brushing off his shoulder as if the man was a walking virus.
"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, eyeing him up and down with his most suspicious and scrutinizing gaze until he saw him squirm. "Show me your identification."
"Y - you mean the tattoos?" one of them squeaked, clearly intimidated, and Kurapika thought his plan was going quite well.
"Yes, imbecile," Kurapika hissed, venomously, turning the full force of his glare to the tall, gangly stick of a man in plaid. "What are you waiting for? I don't have the time for your antics."
The men shrunk away, before rolling up their sleeves to show a red V contained in a flame.
"I'm surprised Vicky and Vlad would dare hire such amateurs," he mumbled under his breath, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Return to your posts, and this time, try to remember the face of your superior."
The first, and largest, man was nudged by the other two. "Ye - yes, sir."
"One more thing. Where is Vicky? The service in this place is as awful as ever and I wish to offer my condolences," Kurapika said, hoping his cluelessness wouldn't show.
"She's in the sunroom," one of the goons answered, pulling at the cuff nervously.
"Which one?" He wasn't sure if there was more than one, but the mansion was huge, so maybe they didn't either. They looked like rookies.
They gave him blank stares before the shorter two nudged the main guy again. "The one at the end of the East Wing. She came with some guy. There's guards there, so just give them the password and you should be fine."
"Yes, yes I know," Kurapika sighed, turning on his heel and waving lazily. "Now get out of my sight."
A sunroom, eh? He might have better luck going through the forest.
The blond trickster opened one of the doors in the corridor and crossed the dark room. It was empty to the point where he couldn't tell if it was meant to be a bedroom or an oversized closet. The afternoon sun filtered through the single, small square window. Kurapika pushed it open, measuring the drop down to be around twenty feet. He'd rather avoid that. If he jumped far enough, he might be able to reach one of the branches.
Pushing down his nerves, the man crouched down on the window sill and pounced. Apparently, he overestimated the distance and was met with a branch to the stomach, leaving him gasping for breath as he climbed up and balanced himself on the tree. Alright, then. Remember Chrollo. Just focus on getting him out of here. Think about how good it would feel to punish him afterward. Blah, bad choice of words. Reprimand, yes, yes, reprimand him afterward.
The branch creaked under his foot and Kurapika winced, before hastening his steps and grabbing onto the trunk. The snow and ice proved to be quite the hindrance. He wasn't expecting it to be this bad. He might do better on the ground.
The sound of a gunshot ripped through the air. Kurapika's breath hitched, pulse quickening as he went from limb to limb before reaching the ground. Too slow. He was too slow.
Oh, God.
He ran through the trees and the several feet of snow, hoping he wouldn't fall waist-deep into it and end up with another dead friend thanks to his own weakness.
Don't be dead. Don'tbedeaddon'tbedeaddon'tbedead. Don't leave.
He got to the sunroom in under three minutes, strengthened by the panic and fear he felt rather than the determination to get there in time. Chrollo looked uninjured, but the woman, dressed in a clashing pink dress and a black scarf, held a gun in her hands and she looked ready to use it. Going by the whole in one of the windows, Victoria had already used one shot and missed, probably on purpose. Something told him this time she wouldn't be so merciful.
To be quite honest, the blond didn't feel like sparing her death either.
He wouldn't kill her out of spite, like he did her brother. She was suffering, he could tell, from the death of a loved one. Lost her purpose and only guided by a flighty revenge. This was the greatest mercy he could give her.
Or at least, that was what he told himself to justify another murder at his hands.
She crumpled to the ground, and Kurapika felt a stab of guilt that hadn't been present the last time. No period of shock came, no surprise at what he'd done, or questioning of his humanity. His body count had risen and all he felt was sympathy and the slightly sickening feeling as he watched blood pool on the wooden floor. He knew what he was capable of.
I'm sorry. You should've picked someone else.
He felt eyes on him. Chrollo had caught sight of him, black eyes widened in a myriad of emotions. Kurapika felt his thirty layers of anxiety fall away, as his companion climbed through the window and ran to him. Ran, not because he was eager to get to his beloved, but because there were still people in the mansion who could catch sight of him.
"You," he breathed, "are late."
Confusion contorted his face. "What?"
"You were supposed to show up ten minutes ago before she fired the first shot," the raven-haired man elaborated, easily.
Kurapika blanched, right before feeling a furious fire rise in him. "This was your plan?!"
"I knew you'd be mad, which is why . . ." He took a piece of folded paper from his pockets. "I made a list of all the reasons this was the only option. Purely because I believe this is a partnership and you deserve to know the whole plan."
"After it's over and done with," Kurapika replied, crossing his arms.
"Of course. I needed your acting skills to be perfect. Which is reason number one, see?" He pointed to the first item on the list, but Kurapika pushed his hand away without even attempting to read it.
"I can't believe you manipulated me."
"Excuse me?" Chrollo said, having the gall to sound aghast. "I did nothing to manipulate you. You came here on your own like the adult male you are."
Kurapika knew where his eyes were directed without even having to look back.
"Chrollo, you walk in front!" Kurapika ordered. The man sighed heavily but did so anyway.
"Would you like to talk about your second murder?"
"No."
. . .
December 12th, XX21 : Age 20 : Spider's Mansion
"What's this?" Chrollo asked, glancing over his shoulder at the screen.
Transfer applicants.
Kurapika felt him stiffen for a millisecond, but his cool, relaxed facade quickly replaced any nervousness.
"I'm planning to finish my degree in France," the blond explained, not meeting his gaze as slender fingers continued filling out the application. "My counselor said it'd be pretty much a win-win in my situation."
"And your scholarship?"
"It'll transfer over."
The man straightened, bringing the coffee mug to his lips. "That's . . . great."
Kurapika snorted. "Please contain your enthusiasm."
"I can't exactly be enthusiastic about something that will inevitably put you out of my reach," Chrollo pouted at the thought. "But if it's something you want, I suppose I can't stop you."
Kurapika nodded, satisfied with his answer, before finishing off the last part of the application. "There. Well, I suppose I should turn in for the night." No panic attacks, hopefully. As well-adjusted and rational as Kurapika was, the events of the past few months, hell, the events of the last half of his life, were hard to reconcile. Knowing he'd murdered two people. One already in the process of dying anyway. The Spiders cleaned up the physical remnants but you couldn't exactly clean up the emotional mess that was Kurapika. When he had nothing to focus on, he remembered. And when he remembered, he panicked. So, in short, he dreaded sleep.
"Kurapika," Chrollo started. The blond turned to look at him, but the thief seemed at a loss for words. In the end, he settled for actions.
Arms wrapping around his waist, Chrollo brought him closer, before pressing his lips to blondie's. And Kurapika, poor, sleep-deprived Kurapika, had absolutely no idea how to respond. It seemed his desires and his responsibilities were battling it out even more than usual, leaving his mind confused and unable to come up with a suitable compromise.
Eventually, he managed to wrap his arms around him, right before remembering he should be pushing him away.
"I swear if you cut off all contact with me after this, I will hunt you down," Chrollo whispered, minty breath hot on his lips, hands on his hips.
"I don't know if that's supposed to be romantic or disconcerting."
"I was going for threatening."
"Hmm," he hummed, contently, before untangling himself from his arms and slipping into bed. "Get out of my room."
"Aw, I thought you wanted me to stay," Chrollo remarked, not budging from his spot.
"Goodnight," Kurapika called. The other man chuckled before making his exit.
. . .
December 24th, XX21 : Age 20 : Spider's Mansion
Christmas Eve brought strange things to the Mansion. Apparently, the Spiders had an annual tree decorating contest in which they take twelve trees and garnish the shit out of them. Which is a lot more dangerous than one would imagine when the ones doing the decorating were twelve spiteful criminals. The competitions didn't stop at the trees, though. Oh no, they extended to the meals and snacks and music for the inevitable party. Pretty much anything that wouldn't annoy Chrollo too much was fair game. Which set the bar pretty low since Chrollo just didn't care what they did as long as they lived.
In the end, Kurapika ended up having to barricade himself in his room to get away from it all.
And each time he thought he was alone, Chrollo would jump out of nowhere and ask one simple question. "Have you told him yet?"
To which he would reply, "no. Please leave me alone, you persistent little maggot."
So, he hadn't told Pairo yet. Was that so bad? Well, yes, but this was a tough thing to get out. He'd definitely do it tonight though. Probably.
Tonight came and it seemed all his friends and Melody had come to the Spider Party, much to his delight and horror. Chrollo's response had been that they needed someone to eat all the food his comrades made, but Kurapika had seen Uvogin eat before, and he ate for ten people. No way they had enough to keep both Uvogin's and Gon's hungers at bay.
"Wow! You're so tall!" Gon cried, gazing up at the eight foot tall monster of a man. Uvogin seemed to like the praise, and if it was physically possible, his head would've swollen with all the ego contained in it.
He barked a wild laugh. "Yeah?! I got into a fight with a world champion of some fighting shit once. I won within five seconds. That was the day I learned -"
"Gon," Kurapika called, not exactly fond of his already morally-ambiguous friend fraternizing with criminal circles. "Could you help me with these dishes?"
"I thought you said you were fine," Nobunaga accused from behind his stack.
"Just take the first half," Kurapika said, ignoring the palm-tree samurai, as Gon walked over to them with that huge, eager smile of his. "Thanks. I was getting a bit sore."
"You said -" Nobunaga's face contorted in pain as Kurapika's heel crushed his toes.
As soon as the dishes were set out on the table, he felt a pair of arms encircle his waist. Between Pairo and Chrollo, Pairo was the only one who had been willing to wear those sweaters he bought for all his friends. Chrollo had called them a complete disaster, ignoring how soft and comfortable the fabric was. Pairo had been an understanding sweetheart and wore them - he'd bought five for each member - whenever he could.
"Hello, gorgeous," Pairo nuzzled into his neck.
"Are you drunk already?"
Pairo laughed. "Not at all. I'm trying to seduce you."
"At the dinner table?"
"I suppose you're right. Join me outside?" Pairo suggested, tightening his grip.
"Gladly."
Pairo's lips pressed to his and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chrollo watching them with a hint of jealousy and resignation in his amused expression. Kurapika didn't have much time to process it, as his boyfriend led him out of the room.
"It's a bit chilly, so -"
"I'll be fine," Kurapika cut him off. "Trust me. I've been through worse." His home in Lukso wasn't exactly airconditioned, and sometimes the fire died, leaving him cold in the night. When that happened, he'd waddle over to his parents' bedside and cuddle up with them in search of warmth. Other times, he wouldn't want to sleep, and they would all go outside and watch the stars, wrapped in several blankets and some hot beverage in their hands. Nights like these, when he'd go out into the snow and see every little dot in the sky, reminded him of those times. If someone had told him he'd be left alone in the world in a few years, he would've stepped on their toes and ran away, thinking they were complete psychopaths.
"I know that look," Pairo said, brushing away the golden hair obscuring his face. "You're thinking about your parents again."
Kurapika smiled and shrugged, "there's a lot that reminds me of them."
"You never fail to amaze me," the brunet whispered as if the very sight of the avenger was too breathtaking for him. "Even after all this, you refuse to break. I love that about you."
He was making this a lot harder than Kurapika expected with all these heartfelt words. How was he supposed to break this to him?
"I have something to tell you," Kurapika finally got out. That was a good start, right? "I'm thinking of studying abroad."
Silence. Pairo stood still, face emotionless, reminding Kurapika of Chrollo's own facade whenever something unpleasant came up.
"I need to get out of this town," Kurapika went on. "I should've left the moment I found a chance."
"I'll wait for you," Pairo said, finally. "If you want me to."
Kurapika shook his head after going over the prospect. He didn't want anyone else held down by this decision. "I don't."
"Alright, then," he tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, squaring his shoulders. "Well, I suppose I should be a little happy you chose yourself and not that man."
Kurapika jumped at the chance to lighten the mood. "Ah, well, Chrollo's a nice guy, but he's a bit too shifty for me."
Pairo smiled back, and it was warm and genuine and sweet, just like a Pairo-smile should be. "Merry Christmas."
Laughing, the blond replied. "Merry Christmas. And just so you know, this does not mean you get to ignore me."
"I would never dream of it."
. . .
January 5th, XX22 : Age 20 : Airport
"Are you sure you have everything," Melody fussed, looking him over nervously. "Your laptop, warm clothes, emergency money?"
Kurapika gave her a fondly exasperated look. "Trust me, Melody. I have everything, and even if I don't, Chrollo gave me a hundred thousand euros as a Christmas present. I can buy anything I'm missing there."
Melody smoothed down his collar. "I know, I know. I'm just a little worried, that's all. I mean France. That's so far away."
"Don't worry, Miss Melody, I'll have people watching over him," Chrollo intervened, charmingly. "He won't be getting into trouble, I can assure you of that."
"Oh, don't go to all that trouble," Melody pleaded. "I know Kurapika wants to do this on his own, so we should respect his decision."
Chrollo leaned in to whisper in his ear. "She's just like you. Stubborn to a fault."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Melody replied. "Kurapika is a thousand times worse than I. In fact, I think my stubbornness came from looking after him."
Upon seeing his surprised expression, Kurapika chuckled. "Melody is known for her crazy hearing. You can't get anything past her."
An easy smirk spread across his lips. "I see. I suppose I'll need to watch my mouth then."
"You should already be watching your mouth," Kurapika remarked before he felt his airway blocked by two long, gangly yet surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his waist. "Leorio!"
The doctor-to-be had been sporadically breaking down into tears the whole trip to the airport. Strange, since Kurapika was the one who made his life a bit of a living hell at the time. Their friendship seemed stronger than all those little arguments now.
"I'm gonna miss you!" the man blubbered, and Kurapika didn't even reprimand him for getting snot all over his new jacket, simply settling for rubbing his back comfortingly. "So much, man! It's gonna be like a total eclipse of the sun, ya know!
Ah, song references. This was definitely Leorio.
Kurapika suddenly felt someone attack him from behind. The spikes of dark green hair were telling.
"Gon." Looks like this was going to be a group hug then. All that was missing was, nevermind, Killua joined in after much arguing with Gon. Kurapika could see Pairo lingering on the side and he gave him an expectant look. Pairo was part of their circle as well, after all. The brunet tried to resist but the blond simply had too strong of a stare, probably all thanks to his ancestry, and Pairo soon joined them.
"There," Kurapika sighed, comfortable in the arms of his friends, "I officially feel properly loved."
"Flight #3 to Paris, France is to leave in ten minutes. Passengers, please get to your seats in an orderly manner," a dull voice droned.
"That's my cue," said the blond, removing himself from the circle, only to be tackled to the ground by a group of friendly Spiders. Nobu, Uvo, Shalnark and Machi, though Machi seemed less than enthusiastic, and a small Kortopi hanging onto his leg. "Yeah. This is just ridiculous."
Chrollo chuckled above him, with an amused Paku at his side. "You will be missed."
Kurapika stood up, with little help from the five criminals. They thankfully got off him, though Kortopi continued to latch onto his jean-clothed leg.
"I've got ten minutes, so give me your goodbyes now."
The man chuckled at his impatience, before reaching into his pocket and bringing out a red velvet box. It was about the size of a standard ring container, and Kurapika hoped the man didn't plan to propose but also wouldn't be surprised if he did. But instead of there being a ring like one would expect, the box opened to reveal a drop earring. A red crystal hung off a silver chain, glimmering in the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the airport.
Kurapika looked up at the man, forehead contorted in confusion.
"It was my brother's," Chrollo explained. "I'm letting you borrow it for now."
The blond smirked, understanding perfectly.
I'm letting you leave now, but you better come back eventually. And when you do, I'll be here. And if you don't, I'll deploy my mini army and bring you back by force.
Rough translation from Chrollian to English.
"Thanks," Kurapika said, snapping the lid shut again. "I'll try not to lose it too soon."
This got a genuine smile out of the man. A hand reached to push his bangs out of his eyes before a pair of lips pressed gently against his forehead.
"I'll see you soon, my avenger," he whispered.
"Hmm," he hummed, contently. "One more thing. Do you mind taking your child Spider off my leg?"
Chrollo chuckled, before kneeling down to Kortopi's height. "It's time to let him go, Kortopi."
The child pouted, tightening his grip. Which really wasn't saying much.
"We'll see him again soon, but if he stays here, he'll be sad," Chrollo guilt-tripped. "Do you want to see Kurapika sad?"
The boy shook his head, before reluctantly letting go of Kurapika. Shalnark came over to him and pat his head comfortingly.
Chrollo gave Kurapika one last look before leading his Spiders away. That was it. No hugs, no last-minute kisses. They weren't like that. They probably never would be, but Kurapika felt that couldn't be too bad. The kiss they shared in his bedroom could be the last one. And that was okay.
He looked back to his friends, Pairo in particular, and mouthed the words, "I'll call you when I get there."
They didn't seem too convinced for some reason.
"Five minutes until flight #3 to Paris, France leaves," the voice announced. Kurapika blanched.
Oh dear. Between murders and being late, he'd choose murders.
. End of Chapter .
A/N: This was such a long chapter, but if you read any of my other stuff on you'll know last chapters are always long for me. This also means there might be more errors than usual. I don't have a beta reader so between school and my other projects, there's a limited time for editing. And then there's the fact I'm not a native english speaker which complicates things when I'm trying to be poetic. Anyway, I hope you liked it to some degree. I'll get back to it to edit a few things later (which usually turns into never so don't bother checking).
Acknowledgements: Thank you to all those wonderful people who reviewed, followed, and favorited on Fanfiction, and Kudosed and commented and bookmarked on AO3. The support really meant so much to me and really motivated me to continue this fic even when I felt like quitting. Special thanks to Unreadable0, Sweets Dreamer, Medusa Legend, Saria19, and KuroKuraForever on Fanfiction, and to Lua, sugay, and Hello_Sleepwalkers on AO3. You guys were awesome throughout the story and I'm gonna cherish all your comments forever.