Chapter II
Six weeks later
It is almost hard to imagine that Kurapika has been gone for six weeks.
In the past twelve years of her life, Valaerys has known the little boy−from his cradle, to his first attempt at riding a pony, his first haircut, the first time his Scarlet Eyes activated. It seems all her life has revolved around watching over him, and Pairo, as she yearns to have brothers of her own. But that could never be.
If only her mother had lived, perhaps she could have brothers by now. Younger brothers to look after, to care for. Instead, she has Kurapika and Pairo. She would never have asked for more than that.
Once again, she leans against the trunk of the tree, looking down at the book in her lap. Kurapika gave her the book he and Pairo found. The Adventures of D Hunter. She opens the book, but she sees nothing. The past few weeks have been nothing but her grandfather being in talks with Chikuta-san and his son, Tokuga. She had kept away for most of the week, deliberately coming late for her duties and chores.
A small part of her mind wants her to take the test. If Kurapika passed, then she would too. Pairo can even take the exam with her if he wants. She knows he wants, despite his increasing blindness in both eyes. Kurapika had promised to bring back a good doctor for him. That was the last thing they heard from him−his promise.
She turns her gaze downwards, to admire the greenery her home has to offer. Wild animals lurk in the darkest, deepest corners. According to some outsiders who married into the clan, their forest is plagued with deep ravines, cliffs, and unnoticeable crevices. There had been reports of Kurta villagers missing and never returning home. One of the many reasons her grandfather dislikes wandering about the area.
She drinks in the sight for a moment, before once again turning up to the skies. Something seems odd today: in the forest, in the very air. The skies are clear and there is no sign of the sun, and the winds are clammy and cold, like an ominous warning. She shivers under her orange robes and tucks her hair gone astray. The hill is eerily quiet. Usually, she would appreciate the peace, but not this time.
The stillness bothers her.
She waits for a few more minutes, knowing well enough that supper is starting and she is late again. Not that her father would mind. He is always as stuck-up as the old geezer is. No surprise in that. They are father and son, after all.
She sits back up, her long sleeves swallowing her hands, and she stands, one hand on the tree trunk, one hand around the book. Trees stretch as far as the eyes could see, separated by the long winding river in between. Apart from that, nothing else. She glances to her right and stares longingly at the white clock tower in the horizon. Perhaps she should take the test.
Still sightseeing, Valaerys pauses. How odd that Chikuta-san did not come to tell her that supper is ready? Or that her grandfather is beside himself again for her tardiness? Pride swells in her at the thought that she is not late this time.
The clouds gather over the forest, the impending rain threatening to fall any moment. She could smell a great thunderstorm incoming. Good. They never had a proper rain for months now. The crops and the livestock could use the refreshment. Her, too, since she loves dancing in the rain. Without Kurapika, however, it would not be as fun as it used to. She should see Pairo and ask him to join her.
The first thunderclap earns a yelp from her. As much as she loves rain, she hates thunder and lightning−loud, vicious things that always terrified her when she was young. She puts both hands against her ears to drown out the sound of thunder rumbling across blackened skies. She braces herself for another booming noise, but it does not come. No lightning either.
What she doesn't hear makes up for something she smells.
Too faint to discern what it is, but she knows something is burning. Still cautious of the thunder and lightning, she rounds the tree and spots a red-orange glow on the other side of the forest. It is still too far from the main village, but with enough winds, the flames will grow and spread. She gasps at the realization and starts running down the hill, almost stumbling from her own legs.
She hits the grassy floor and pushes herself off to a sprint, passing by columns of trees. As she turns a sharp corner, the blazing tree trunk collapses and blocks her path. Eyes wide, she realizes that another fire has started on this side of the forest. In no time, the two sides would meet, engulfing her village in the middle. Her heart races, her mind blank with nothing else but fear. What to do? Where to go? Ask for help? Go forward and search for her family?
Another trunk collapses behind her. The embers scatter and land on her robes, singeing them. Screams follow next, a deadly melody laced with horrified cries. Valaerys finds a way around the burning forest, but is trapped again when more trees block the road. The bushes are on fire, and the grassy floor is hot as cinders. The heavy smoke clouds her vision and makes it harder to breathe.
"Grandpa!" She coughs as she walks around the place, dodging falling branches and canopies. In a distance, she hears the continuous rattle of guns and the dismantled cries of her clansmen. "P-Pairo!"
Overhead, the thunder rumbles. The black skies unleash the heavy rain, smothering the forest fire. Valaerys finds a small crevice and pushes herself, spending a few minutes there, waiting until the fire is out and there is nothing to hinder her but thick white smoke. Her lungs are constricted from the smoke, and tears keep brimming from her eyes as the sting continues to hurt.
When she goes out of her hiding place, she coughs again and looks around her. The once beautiful greenery has turned into nothing but a smoking wasteland. The embers are blinking red-and-orange, the thick smoke unrelenting.
Everywhere she looks, there is nothing but charred houses and trees. The rain pounds harder above her head, but she doesn't care. With her hair plastered on her body, she runs around searching for people, screaming their names, fighting off tears at the same time. At the last round, she hears a faint cough from underneath the pile of rubble.
"Chikuta-san!" Valaerys removes the debris on the older man's chest and kneels beside his broken body. Carefully, she lays both hands on his shoulders and helps him to sit up. He wheezes and coughs more blood on his chest.
"Va… Val…" Chikuta manages between short gasps. There is a deep gouge in his stomach, the flesh red and the muscles beating. He grips her hand with his own, bloodied as they are. "Run… Run away… Now."
"What's happening?" she demands. "Who's done this to us?"
"Outsiders…" Another wheeze. Blood bubbling from his mouth. "Very… powerful…"
She freezes, unable to understand for a moment. Her eyes trail to where she laid the book, detailing the adventures of an outsider called Hunter. How could such a person do that to them? She shakes her head, shivering from the cold rain. "I will get you out of here, Chikuta-san… Come on. Let's get you up."
His fingers grab at her robes, staining them further. "No! You mustn't take me! Go… Alone… Hurry!"
"I will not leave you here to die!"
"You must…" He gasps for air, but gets nothing but the rain. Valaerys shields his face using the book, careless if the pages are soaked and unreadable afterwards. "Please… Hide. Run. Never come back… Outsiders… too powerful… took others near the cliff… Run, Val."
She doesn't know whether it is the rain or her tears falling down her chin. "I can't, I won't leave you."
Chikuta, already weak and slipping away, takes the book and presses it to her chest. The rain soaks his dark hair and clouds his already weakening sight. "Go… Read your books… Be s-safe…"
Lightning crashes as his sighs his last breath, surrounded by the remnants of his destroyed home and a young woman who might have been his daughter-in-law. Blood continues spouting from his gunshot wounds. The bones of his hips and down are broken and twisted. Valaerys sobs over his head, never having felt this alone before.
She moves again, when screams echo into the darkness. She arranges Chikuta's lifeless body and comes across his sword. She picks it up, the dreaded weight of the blade so unfamiliar to her, and tucks her book under her arm.
Chilled to the bone, fearful more than ever, she creeps further into the place she once called home and tries searching for survivors.
It is a long walk−from the outer ring of the village to the village proper. Some bodies are black from the fire, and their limbs are broken like gnarled tree roots. She approaches one gnarled body and covers the gasp coming from her mouth. The burned skull is split open, the dentures pulled out and the eyes gouged from their sockets. The eyes are discarded on the ground next to the body and squashed under someone's boot like a rotten fruit.
A vomit threatens to escape her. She smells the disgusting stench of blood hanging in the air, mixing with the rain. Death clings to her like a second skin, and she is afraid to breathe louder than she should, afraid that the outsiders might hear her.
Approaching the village proper, her eyes begin to water again: the lovely homes are destroyed; their supplies thrashed on the ground, even their house pets murdered and left lying in their own blood. She could feel the anger rising inside her, but there's no red in her sight yet. Much better.
The pleading screams grab her attention. Like Chikuta said, the outsiders took the villagers to the cliff, the highest elevation in the Lukso Province.
Clutching the sword tighter, she follows the sound, drowned out by the occasional streaks of lightning.
Valaerys approaches behind the trees and bushes not damaged by the fire. The rain muffles out her footsteps, squishing in the mud, as she crouches and peeks between the leaves.
Her eyes narrow at the amount of outsiders standing around as if they own the place. She counts nine outsiders: seven males, two females. All are dressed in strange clothing, stranger than her own. Outsider's clothes, no doubt.
Around the outsiders, all the Kurta members are separated according to age: adults on the left, children on the right. Everyone seems bound by some kind of rope that she could not see. Despite the separation, there is one thing common between the hostages. Deep slashes crisscross every inch of their bodies, with the children receiving more from a short, dark-haired man. He whips them all with a cackle in his lips, the hunger in his dark eyes.
The parents are shouting and thrashing, but a man and woman silence them with guns and swords in their faces.
Valaerys holds her breath, clutching the sword against her chest.
Then another man comes sauntering; he is the biggest man she has ever seen, with spiky grey hair and wearing fur over his powerful back. He grabs two men by their necks and shoves them facedown to the damp earth. As the two Kurta try to scramble away, another outsider−another gigantic man with strange lip piercings−puts out both hands and guns them down. The first man laughs and claps the second on the shoulder, while the rest of the group chuckle to themselves.
A powerful crack of the whip sends one of the children flying. Valaerys flinches as Pairo, bound by the invisible rope, struggles to his feet and faces his assaulter. She grips the sword and the book tighter. She knows she doesn't stand a chance. She knows there are no chances of getting out alive. But if it means saving Pairo? Saving at least one life against these savage monsters?
One of females breaks from the group. A petite, pink-haired woman must have sensed Valaerys's presence and stalks towards the bush, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Then the woman stops her approach, turning to look at someone else.
Just then, someone emerges from the shadows. Hair dark as raven, eyes even darker−the young man approaches with cold grace. He wears a black trench coat as protection against the pouring rain, with a white shirt underneath the coat. When he joins the group, the others make way, nodding to him.
"You…" A feeble voice comes from the crowd. Valaerys knows that voice anytime, anywhere. Her grandfather sits among the elderly, hands bound in front of him. For the first time in years, his usually dreary brown eyes are now a brilliant scarlet. "You're the leader, aren't you…?"
The lightning flashes. The young man looks down on her grandfather as if he is an old fool drunk in the streets. The silence wears on, and for a moment, Valaerys foolishly thinks the young man did not hear.
Finally, he answers. His voice is like silk. "Yes, I am."
Her grandfather crawls forward, struggling against his bonds. Around him, the other members take their positions, as if an old man can pose such a threat to them. "Then we can talk, leader to leader, man to man," he says. "You understand how much our people mean to us, don't you? For us leaders, they are the world… Please… Take me and the older ones, but not the children… Have mercy on the children…"
The young man tips his head to the side.
"The children… They are our legacy," her grandfather pleads, and it hurts Valaerys so much to hear his desperate pleas. The Elder crawls forward until he kneels at the leader's feet, like a fervent worshipper in a church. He dares to bow before the dark-haired monster. "Please, have mercy on the children, sir."
"I believe you are confused," the man speaks gently. "You are in no position to bargain with us. We take everything. We accept anything. We do not do anything by halves."
There is something in his statement that makes Valaerys angrier. She wants to have a chance, find an opening for a distraction−but what can she do? Against that man with the fur or the other with gun in his fingers, she could not do more than take three steps from her hiding place. Yet, as the leader lectures her grandfather about the consequences of life and death, she grows more anxious.
The villagers continue screaming, thrashing. The mothers are crying for their children's lives. Kurapika's mother thrashes the most, her beautiful face angry and filled with such hatred. Kurapika's father has his face bruised from fighting back. Valaerys's own father sits beside them, one eye swollen from a punch.
The leader turns his attention to them instead, and points an index finger at Pairo. The blood in Valaerys's veins suddenly runs cold.
"Let me set an example," the leader says.
A buffoon with a topknot grabs Pairo by the skin of his neck. He sets the helpless boy down to a bloody tree stump, lays his head across, and unsheathes his katana. Pairo closes his eyes but doesn't scream or cry. Anyone who knows Pairo should know that he is stronger than they think.
"Please! No!" The Elder stumbles on the damp earth, the mud muffling his words. "Pl-Please..! Have mercy!"
"I think not," replies the leader, never taking his eyes off Pairo and the executioner.
As the sword slices through the air, something snaps in Valaerys.
No more hiding and cowering in fear. No more second-guesses.
She emerges from the bush and chargers towards the leader, the sword high in the air. He must have seen her coming, for he turns around to meet her attack. She flings the book at his face and raises the blade−until a gunshot rings out and pain seizes her senses. She staggers from the first shot, blood trickling from her temple, until another one hits her right shoulder. She spots a blonde woman holding two pistols, the barrels still smoking. The momentum reels her backwards, away from the leader, away from the villagers, from her grandfather, from Pairo.
Her unsteady feet hit gnarly roots of an old tree and she falls over the yawning mouth of the cliff. She can hear horrified screams, her father shouting her name, Pairo clambering to get to her. But there is nothing to stop her from falling. She closes her eyes, welcoming the darkness.
Finally, it is over.
After months of admiring sketches of Scarlet Eyes, he finally has the real thing in his hands. He can finally admire the brilliant scarlet hue, the way the irises flicker against the light. He has admired them from afar and now he has his own collection to admire, to do away as he sees fit to these treasures.
He has to admit: it is not an easy job. Locating the reclusive Kurta Clan was hard enough as it was. He had to rely on Shalnark's Hunter License to give them a vaguest idea where the clan lived. Once the location was determined, he called upon members of the Troupe who conveniently had no other businesses. It is always so relieving to get to reply from his members, his legs. He is, after all, their head.
"Danchou." Pakunoda approaches from his left. Her short blonde hair is whipped up by the strong wind and rains, plastered around her shoulders and pale blue blouse. "We have already collected all pairs. Uvo and Franklin are loading them into the crates."
"I see."
"May I ask something, Danchou?"
"Of course." Chrollo does not bother glancing at her. Ever since the appearance of the Kurta girl, his sights are ever to the cliff she fell into, the abyss that consumed her. Even now, hours after the last member is killed, he stands on the precipice and looks down, as if hoping by some strange miracle that the girl survived.
Pakunoda, ever the perceptive one, studies his serene face. "Is there anything wrong?"
He remains rigid. "Thank you for saving me," he murmurs, as if it is a big deal anyway. He knows he could have dodged; he sensed her presence long before she charged, yet he allowed her to attack.
She blinks at his strange words. "It's-It's nothing, Danchou… I was only doing my part…"
"Then you shall do more for me." For the first time since the girl's disappearance, Chrollo moves from his spot and beckons for Shalnark. The bubbly Spider is more than happy to oblige and comes running to the leader. "Do you still have that flashlight, Shal?"
"Right here!" Shalnark spins the flashlight between his fingers.
"Good. You two are coming with me." Chrollo faces the other Spiders. "The rest of you stay here and keep filling the crates. No one leaves behind a single eye. Am I understood?"
There is a collective "Yes, Danchou" from everyone.
Nodding to his companions, the Spider leader jumps off the cliff and narrows his dark eyes for any signs of his target. To his surprise, it is a steep cliff, badgered by sharp rocks and some overgrown roots. He jumps from one boulder to another, calculating his descent. Hands in his coat pocket, he lands on the riverbank and looks around the area.
Thick fog surrounds the place. He could see no more than ten feet away from him. As Shalnark and Pakunoda land behind him, he starts in observation. The body should be around here somewhere. The fall should not have thrown it too far, no matter the altitude. The valley is narrow, accompanied by a shallow river. If the girl died, and Chrollo looks forward to see her corpse, she should be close.
He notices an orange fabric caught between sharp tree branches. He takes it and rolls it between his fingers.
"Paku."
"Yes, Danchou?"
Chrollo hands her the fabric and moves on.
Shalnark, equipped with the flashlight, waves it over his head. "Danchou! I found something!"
The leader joins him as he stands in the mouth of a large cave. Shalnark shines the flashlight on the ground, the mud mingling with fresh blood. Then he shines the trail of blood that leads into the cave. Pakunoda stands from behind, the fabric still in her hand.
"She's inside," she says. "I know it."
"Then let's go!" Shalnark excitedly punches the air.
Water ripples somewhere inside the cave. The three of them, walking close together and following the light, hear their own careful footsteps resonating and bouncing off the ceiling. If it is cold up there after the terrible rain last night, it is colder down here. The deeper they go, the colder it becomes.
The bloody trail drags on for a few minutes, still fresh and quite profuse. Pakunoda eyes the blood and reminds herself that this is her doing. She shot the young woman threatening to kill Danchou, even though she was not much of a threat.
The light catches something iridescent in the darkness. They stop walking, and Shalnark directs the beam of light up ahead. They all see her, Chrollo even more so.
Her Scarlet Eyes are bright in the shadows, like a wildcat's eyes flickering in a dark jungle. When the flashlight shines on her face, she gives a hiss and puts up her bruised arm to cover her eyes. Chrollo frowns then: he wants to see her eyes. He wants to see the Scarlet Eyes in the head of a living, breathing Kurta. She is the last of them, the rest are packed in glass canisters and crates. One pair is still inside the head of the young boy. All of those eyes are beautiful, but there is something else to the one that is alive.
"I can't believe it," Shalnark murmurs. "She's actually alive. I had thought the fall would kill her."
"Scarlet Eyes grant strength," Chrollo whispers back. "Perhaps they are the reason she's alive."
"Shall I take her out then?" Pakunoda loads her pistol again, ready to finish the job.
Chrollo raises a fist, signaling her to stop. He examines the girl with a connoisseur's gaze. His dark eyes travel to around her body, first to her feet and legs, to her orange robes decorated with golden swirls as in the manner of Kurta culture. Then he stares at the deep purple bruises standing out against her alabaster skin, shining wetly against the flashlight. There are more scratches on her cheek, but they are nothing compared to the bleeding right shoulder which she now holds delicately with her left hand. Another trail of blood gushes from her right temple, the blood dripping to her chin and then to her chest.
Next, he examines her eyes. Scarlet Eyes−how extremely beautiful. Framed by thick platinum blonde hair, they look even better. He nods, stroking his chin, like a curator observing a rare piece of art.
"What shall we do with her, Danchou?" Pakunoda's voice sounds faraway.
Chrollo studies the girl's face and expects hostility from her. Instead of anger, he senses something else. He could see it in her eyes. She is not angry or hostile. She is confused and exhausted.
Kneeling on the cavern floor, he tilts his head. "What's wrong?" he asks her. "Are you all right?"
The girl scrambles away from him. She breathes heavily, but winces every time she does. The gaping wound on her shoulder must sting with every breath she takes.
Chrollo, his strong curiosity taking over, pushes onward. "Do you understand what's happening here? Have you any idea what happened to your family, your friends?"
No recognition dawns in her eyes. His dark heart flutters. A good sign. "Do you know your name?"
She hisses back. "Na-Name…?"
He nods in encouragement. "Yes, your name. What is it?"
Behind him, Shalnark and Pakunoda exchange incredulous glances at one another.
"…Name," the girl mumbles under her breath, eyes cast down. "Your… name…"
"Not mine." Chrollo shakes his head, amused. "Yours. I mean yours."
"Mine?"
He nods again.
She looks around the avid faces waiting for her answers. It takes an effort to force the words out of her mouth. When she does, she seems all the more confused. "V-Val…"
Shalnark wags his finger in the air. "Your name is Val?"
The girl winces again, clutching her wound harder. "Name… Vale… Val…"
Pakunoda sighs and inspects her nails. "Obviously, her name is longer than that."
"No matter." Chrollo stands up again and turns to her. He is back in his usual reserved self. "Paku, can you check her? I want to confirm something."
"Sure." The blonde woman kneels next to the Kurta girl and waits for her orders. "What should I check?"
"Everything."
Pakunoda puts one hand on the girl's forearm and closes her eyes. She concentrates on her abilities and comes across some blurry memories. She waits, and waits, and then−nothing. She gasps and snatches her hand back from the girl, as if she electrocuted her.
Shalnark immediately comes to her aid. "Paku! You all right? What did you see?"
"How strange," she mumbles and looks up at their leader. "There is nothing to see, Danchou. All I saw is the moment she woke up from the fall, then her crawling into this cave, our faces when we found her."
"And beyond that?" Chrollo prompts. "The attack on the cliff, you shooting her?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing. Her memories are blurry at best, but I promise you: there's nothing more except the moment she woke up. I didn't even come across a name."
That proves his theory, then. Satisfied, he nods his thanks to her and approaches the Kurta girl again. She bares her teeth like a cornered animal, but then winces at the pain of her wound. Her irises remain a livid scarlet, glaring at him despite her confusion. He loves the way it looks in her pretty head. If he had known that a living Kurta looks more beautiful like this, he would have spared one or two more.
"Um, Danchou?" Shalnark mutters.
Without words, without explanation, Chrollo Lucilfer removes his black coat and puts it around the girl's smaller frame. He carries her in his arms, bridal style to make it easier for him, and turns around to exit the cave without so much as a glance to his companions.
Author's Notes: Thus I return with the second chapter! I thank everyone who read, followed, faved, and reviewed the last time. It means a lot, like a lot!
I will also make it a habit for replying to everyone's reviews. I'd like to make more friends in the HXH fandom, because HXH is life!
*xenocanaan - Thank you very much for reading!
Here we also have the massacre of the Kurta Clan. I tried to make it gruesome, since there were not much information or details how the members met their end except for the gouging of the eyes part. I am sure the Troupe handled this more violently, but for little Pairo's sake, I left out the horrid details and leave them to your imagination. With Feitan in the fray, I bet he had a wonderful time.
As for the Phantom Troupe... *pterodactyl screech* I love them and I'm looking forward to writing more of them.
Has anyone seen the latest chapter? Because Prince Halkenburg became a rebel so fast and finally utilized his Beast's ability. MVP right there. With the banquet coming next week, I hope we get to see the Spiders attending the event. L̶o̶w̶-̶k̶e̶y̶ ̶h̶o̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶D̶a̶n̶c̶h̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶p̶p̶e̶a̶r̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶u̶i̶t̶.̶