Chapter IV

The trucks pass under a black archway and take the ascending road to a small hill, where a lone church stands at the top. The surrounding area is grassy, dappled with multi-colored wildflowers that sway with the slight breeze. At the church's entrance, Uvogin and Nobunaga await, wearing amused grins in their faces, both eyeing the black trucks coming to a full stop in front of them.

Shalnark climbs out of the first truck, followed by Machi. They crane their necks to observe the entire structure, but give no opinions from themselves. Instead, they turn their backs and keep their eyes observing but their mouths shut.

Chrollo exits next and offers one hand to his Kurta. With grace, he guides her to the gravel pathway, taking immense care with her right shoulder. The Kurta wobbles in her unsteady feet, and grabs the Spider leader on both shoulders to keep herself from falling.

"What is it?" Chrollo asks the members around him as he feels their eyes boring through him.

"N-Nothing, Danchou!" Shalnark waves his hands cheerfully. "Oh! Here comes Pakunoda's group!"

The second truck creaks and stops. Pakunoda and Franklin jump out at the same time, while Omokage, ever the imaginative one, walks in exaggerated slow movements as if his mind is elsewhere.

Uvogin grins at them from ear-to-ear. "Looks like you guys got yourselves into some trouble."

Machi smooths her short pink hair down her shoulders. "Could've been worse," she mutters.

"Oh, for sure." Nobunaga snorts as he glares at the young woman clinging onto Chrollo's shoulders. She takes one small step after the other, reminding him of an infant. To make things more infuriating, their leader is actually guiding her along her steps. Nobunaga frowns at them. "I was hoping she'd die from her injuries."

"Now, now," Shalnark coaxes. "There's no need to be so mean, Nobunaga!"

"But look at her!" The swordsman points his forefinger at the pathetic scene unfolding in front of him. The other Spiders follow where he points, opting to stay silent than to antagonize their leader. "She's small and weak, and she can't even walk properly or remember her name!" He unsheathes his katana and assumes his stance. "One quick nick and we'll have a complete set of Scarlet Eyes, Danchou!"

Chrollo, who is pleasantly silent yet amused at the exchange, finally lifts his attention from the struggling Kurta and faces Nobunaga's dark look.

"You are right, Nobunaga, if you do so we would have a complete set," he says. "But look at her."

Everyone turns to the girl, whose golden eyes are more focused on steadying her untrained feet, whose hands are tight on their leader's collar, her hair a tumble of pale golden across her back. She is oblivious to the argument she keeps inciting between the Troupe, and even if she does know, none of them think she would even care.

"We have a living, breathing Kurta amongst us−the last of her kind," Chrollo explains, his own dark eyes staring at her face. "She has no memories of her past, thus she cannot hate us. She has no knowledge of the world, and so she would depend on us. It is like creating another person through your eyes. And what could be more beautiful than experimenting with a rare specimen?"

"Hmph." Nobunaga withdraws his sword and scowls. "Fine, then. Whatever makes you happy."

"Indeed."

An awkward silence wears on. Chrollo decides the argument is over and leads the group into the church's main entrance doors. Uvogin and Franklin push the double doors open, which leads to a wide aisle with an extravagant red carpet. Several wooden pews are aligned from the altar to the back, while standing candelabras flank the sides of the granite walls.

The Spiders take their time staring at their new temporary base: there are several banners hanging from the vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows that depict various scenes from the Bible. The altar at the very front boasts an extravagant wooden structure painted with golden filigrees. Candles are burning low, some snuffed out by the wind coming from the opened doors.

Shalnark whistles in amazement. "Where's everybody?"

Uvogin puffs his chest in pride. "We killed them. We dumped the bodies out in the cemetery at the back."

"This would do very nicely," Chrollo comments and turns to face his members. "Unload the crates and set the Scarlet Eyes across the altar. It makes a decent shrine. Shal, tell Phinks and Feitan it is time to regroup. Tell the remaining others to come here as well. Machi and Pakunoda, you two are on guard duty."

"And the rest of us, Danchou?" Omokage prompts.

"Set the Scarlet Eyes on the altar," the leader repeats. He takes his Kurta and walks her down the aisle, rounds towards the back of the altar, and disappears behind a smaller door.

The hallway behind the altar stretches for a few meters. It is dark and cold here, without the presence of the stained windows from outside. Instead, there are only small circular windows that allow the drafts of wind. The walls are of old granite and the floor is made of cobblestones, making their steps echo around the empty hallway. Chrollo traverses the path as if he is quite familiar with the place, but he only follows what his instincts and what he has learned from his books.

Beside him, the Kurta has learned to balance herself on her own, and looks quite proud of herself as she paces after him. She follows him like a lost puppy, turning where he does and enters a room before he could shut the door in her face.

The room Chrollo chooses is none other than the personal bedchambers of the parish priest. It has a spacious presence chamber with an imposing hearth in the middle, bookshelves on the other side, a set of couch and round table, with a purple velvet carpet in between. He immediately goes to check on the shelf, brushing fingers across dusty volumes and smiling to himself.

The Kurta, however, has another thing in mind. She crosses the presence chamber and heads straight to the curtains. She peeks between a crack, and then opens it further. Chrollo, interested that she is finally doing things for herself and satisfying her own curiosity, joins her at the window.

A cemetery looms beneath them, countless of white gravestones and crosses present. A small mound rests in the corner, black and still sizzling, and at once Chrollo realizes they are the corpses of the priests, nuns, and churchgoers that Uvogin and Nobunaga killed to make room for the Troupe.

His eyes stray back to his companion's face. It is soft and serene, the very face of someone unused to these kinds of things. "How are you feeling?" he whispers.

She flinches, as though she does not expect him to speak. She gives him a surprised look, her golden eyes wide with unspoken allure. Her lips purse as she tries to form the words.

He is patient with her; he knows he has to be. He waits until she gives him a solid answer.

"I hurt," she mumbles, and gains more confidence when he smiles at her. Her eyes light up. "I feel pain… in my shoulder… and on my head… and here…" She points to each part of her body, then her finger stops on top of her chest.

"Your heart?" Chrollo blinks at her.

"Yes." She nods. "Heart."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Do you remember anything before all this?" He gestures around the room and the cemetery.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Do you remember your name?"

She freezes, fiddling with her fingers. "… No."

He smirks. "Would you like to know?"

The Kurta shrugs and leaves him by the window. For a moment there, Chrollo thinks he has lost her attention. She approaches the hearth next, running her fingertips across the surface. She notices the dark soot and blows them away.

In silence, Chrollo merely shrugs and chooses one of the many books in the shelf. It has been a long day, and he could use the quiet time to read and relax. He keeps a quarter of his attention on the girl, who remains walking around the chamber and checking the dead priest's belongings. He is grateful for her quietness, as he doesn't think he could do more from the incessant noise since that morning.

The sun sinks low in the horizon and paints the entire cemetery in a reddish glow. Sensing his companion's discomfort, he closes his newfound book and stands from the chair.

"Let's go," he tells her and wanders to the door.

She follows, hands clasped together in front of her. When the door opens and a large man stands on the other side, she blinks and takes one step behind Chrollo.

The Spider leader says, "This is Uvogin."

She tilts her head to the side. "Uvo… gin…"

The large man in question grins wide and bends down, his hands resting on his knees, as he proceeds to meet her eyes with his hazel ones. "Oh? Lookie what we have here! Finally feeling okay, eh?"

Uvogin gets nothing but silence from her. He is not disheartened, and brushes off her silence as he straightens himself and turns to their leader. "Danchou, Phinks and Feitan are here."

"Good. Let's go." Chrollo leads the way, flanked by his two companions on both sides.

Once they reach the end of the hallway and return to the church's nave, the Spiders cease their murmuring. The place is dark but for the glowing candles erected across the pews. Nobunaga and Franklin are standing close to ravaged pizza boxes and beer containers. Shalnark beams and shoots their leader a thumbs-up sign. On the other hand, Omokage enters through the main entrance doors and leaves a bouquet of white lilies on the altar.

Chrollo rounds towards the altar and admires the way the Scarlet Eyes gleam in the darkness. All fifty pairs of the eyes are aligned on the priest's altar table or on the ground before it. Omokage's white lilies blend well with the reddish glow that comes from the burning candles. The sight is so mesmerizing and soothing that if Chrollo would close his eyes, he could almost imagine a choir singing a requiem for them.

He is about to approach the Scarlet Eyes, hoping to admire their beauty closer, when the Kurta girl sidesteps him and ascends the dais without preamble. Surprised yet curious, Chrollo watches over her shoulder.

She stares at the pair in front of her, barely at arm's length away. Her shaky hands reach out for the glass canister and her fingertips trace the round shape of the eyes. The candlelight illuminates her face in a soft golden glow. Watching her peer at her dead kinsmen's eyes with wonder, not knowing what happened or who killed them, gives a proud tug in Chrollo's black heart.

He remembers that night, the last night of the Kurta Clan.

The plan was simple: draw out the clansmen from their forest through fire, trap them all together in one place, and separate the children from their parents.

Still, caught off guard as they were, they had proven to be strong fighters. Strong as they seemed, they were no match for the strength of the Phantom Troupe. The Spiders had gathered all outsiders who married into the clan, whose eyes did not turn scarlet, and gouged their useless eyes out and squashed them into the muddy earth. Now, that incited the wrath of the purebloods and their hatred made them stronger. It had taken the Spiders some effort to subdue them.

As punishment for their struggles, the children paid for it: whipped from head to toe, their fingernails ripped and their skin flayed from their bones. The youngest one had his whole head dismembered for his elders' mistakes. The rest happened in a flash: the Spiders gouged out the eyes of both parents and children, and dumped their bodies in pools of warm blood mixed with the raging downpour of the rain.

Chrollo ceases his reminiscence and climbs the dais to join her. She still checks each of the glass canisters and brushes her fingertips against them. He finds her cluelessness a great delight−a malicious one at that.

"Do you know what they are?" he asks under his breath.

"No." Golden eyes reflect the livid scarlet from the canisters. "Would you tell me?"

"If you insist."

Smirking deviously, he steps closer behind her back, his chin inches from her wounded right shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her body, smell the enticing scent of her dishelleved hair. His arm stretches out to touch the glass and swipe his thumb over one eye.

"These are the Scarlet Eyes of the Kurta Clan. When their emotions are perked, such as excitement or anger, their eyes turn into this. These eyes are considered one of the most beautiful colors in the world." He steals a glance at her face. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose," she murmurs, stepping away from him. She shoots him a suspicious look.

He shoves both hands into his pockets and climbs down to unite with his awaiting members. "You must be hungry," he says to her over his shoulder. "Come along now."

The girl descends the short flight of steps. In a blink of an eye, various people already surround her.

Feitan is the first to approach her. The dark bandana above his mouth is pulled down to show the deep frown he wears. He stands short beside her, only coming up to her shoulder.

"Hmm? I thought you already dead," he says by way of greeting. "Die sooner."

Nobunaga, still annoyed from the confrontation that afternoon, groans aloud. "Exactly my thoughts."

"Maybe she's tougher than you think," Pakunoda interrupts.

"That's right. I did read that Scarlet Eyes can grant extra strength," Shalnark points out.

"She doesn't really look that special to me." Phinks pats the girl's head as if he would to a puppy. "Apart from the pretty face and, obviously, the rare eyes, she can die out in the streets for all I care. One less mouth to feed, you know."

"Or dismember her and sell the body parts in black market," Feitan suggests. "More money for us."

"Yeah. More money to feed Uvo 'cause he finished our previous stock," Franklin teases.

Uvogin clenches his fist and stomps his foot. The marble floor shatters under his weight. "Hey! You were also eating too much, Franklin! And I already brought back more supplies so quit yapping at me!"

Shalnark jumps between the two arguing Spiders. "Come on, you two! No time for a fight!"

"Exactly." Machi crosses her arms above her chest. "Give us some peace and quiet for a while."

"This is getting to be a bit too noisy." Chrollo sighs as he snatches an unopened pizza box, a whole container of beer, and a box of cake topped with chocolate and fruits. He leaves the members arguing; the disagreement about the Kurta's presence has now turned to issues of Nobunaga's tardiness and Uvogin's habit of snoring in his sleep. He finds the bickering ridiculous at best, but that is one of the reasons why he loves being in the company of his members.

The Kurta follows the leader out of the nave and back to the dim hallway that leads to the priest's chamber. Inside, she catches the dark-haired man in the middle of lighting the iron hearth in the middle of the room. She seats herself on the couch, the window with its silver full moon behind her, and Chrollo joins her there.

"You have been sleeping for a week," he says, undoing the ties on the pizza box. "You must be starving."

"Ravenous," she corrects him and has the pleasure to see him taken aback.

"Right. Ravenous, as you say." He sets everything in place, from the pizza to the fruitcake and to the canned beers. He has no qualms on Uvogin and Nobunaga's choice of food and drinks, but he is quite concerned when the Kurta sips the beer and almost chokes from the nasty taste.

"You said something about my name a while ago," she says out of blue.

"I did." He nods and tucks his book away. The food is half-finished and the beer is barely touched. He makes a mental note to ask the others to find something more tolerable, probably coffee. His dark eyes meet hers in an intense match. "Would you like to know your name?"

She snorts, as if she doesn't believe him. "How would you know my name? Who are you, anyway?"

A small, knowing smile forms in his lips. A few hours ago, this girl had difficulty in speaking and walking. To think that an exposure to outside elements−the attack in the outpost, the Scarlet Eyes, and even the Spiders−would shape her mentality in a short period of time would result in something akin to suspicious curiosity, it makes Chrollo more determined to shape her according to his desire.

"My name is Chrollo Lucilfer," he says, his voice debonair and smooth. "I am the leader of the Phantom Troupe, though we also call ourselves the Spider. We steal whatever we want; we kill whoever interferes; we do everything we please. No one in this world could deny those to a Spider."

"What does that make me?" she asks.

"You are one of us."

"But the others−"

"The others are all but being disagreeable," he interrupts. "From now on, I want you to think and feel that you are one of us. The Spider is your family and your only sanctuary. I am your leader now, and my orders are your utmost priority."

She seems hesitant, but there is one more thing she wants. "And my name? You said you know it."

The flames in the hearth emphasize the growing smile on Chrollo's handsome face.

"Valtiel," he says. "That is your name."

The next morning comes cold and foggy. Chrollo had slept in good spirits for the first time ever since last week, when they started camping out in the forest and had to stay in the cramped bamboo outpost in the middle of nowhere. He stretches like an indulgent cat across the couch, his book open above his chest, his one arm tossed over his sleepy eyes. The presence chamber is cold without the blazing heat from the fireplace. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he rises from his makeshift bed, yawns, and heads towards the other side of the room where the bedroom is located.

He opens the door a little, peeking like a mischievous child. He finds the Kurta curled up on the priest's canopied bed, nuzzling under layers and layers of blanket. He enters to observe the spacious room, only to find the windows open and the cold winds gushing forth. He closes the windows.

"Hey." A sleepy voice inquires from the bed.

"Good morning," he answers with a smile. His eyes wander throughout her whole body as she sits up from the bed, her platinum blonde hair a mess. Her orange robes, dark with the stains of her blood and tattered from the struggle from the past few days, slip off her shoulder, with her skirt hiked up almost to her waist.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing." Realizing his rude staring, he clears his throat and puts his hands in his pockets. "I was only wondering whether you'd like to have some change of clothes?"

"My clothes?" Blinking, she raises her arm and the long sleeves slip downwards.

"You could use a change of clothes," he decides and beckons her to him. "Come. We can ask Machi and Pakunoda to find you some in town. Also, we are in dire need of a proper breakfast. You are no better than you were last week. You would need nourishment if you want to live longer."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Whatever you say, leader."

He raises a dark, elegant eyebrow at her. "I believe the term you are searching for is 'Danchou'."

Now, it is her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Danchou?"

"Everyone calls me that," he explains without much interest in his voice. "You don't have to call me that. I really do not mind." He leads her to the hallway and back to the nave again.

"Yo! Danchou!" Uvogin roars despite the other Spiders are still sleeping.

"Pipe it down, idiot!" Someone complains in the shadows.

Chrollo looks around the place. "Where are Machi and Pakunoda?"

The larger man scratches his chin as he thinks. "Out on guard duty, I think? They're not here. They're probably patrolling the area for signs of those Hunters from yesterday. You need something from them?"

"More or less," the Spider leader murmurs. He glances at the girl, then to Uvogin, and judging by the way that the large man stares at her exposed skin is enough for Chrollo to demand new clothes. He would not stand and watch while the male members of the group ogle at her, especially not Omokage, whose desire to make a puppet out of her has increased since the scene at the altar yesterday. If Machi and Pakunoda are not around to assist him, then he would have to ask the other guys.

"Danchou?" Uvogin prompts.

"Is there anyone else already awake?"

"Nobunaga and Feitan."

"All right. Take them both and go downtown. I need a girl's clothes for Valtiel."

Uvogin looks lost. "Who?"

Chrollo gestures to the young woman standing next to him. "Her name is Valtiel. As you do remember, yes? Now, I want you three to find decent clothes for her," he says hurriedly, before the other could interrupt. "Key word: decent. Nothing too short or too skimpy. Anything black would be appreciated. Do you understand?"

Feitan and Nobunaga approach them. "What's this I am hearing about?" Feitan asks.

"Danchou wants us to find clothes for the lady," Uvogin answers, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Something something something about not too short and skimpy, right?"

"Can I count on the three of you?" Chrollo turns to them with an expectant look.

"Leave it to us," Feitan grumbles under his bandana.

"Sheesh! If we only killed her before, then we don't have to find clothes for her!" Nobunaga stomps away.

"You are very kind, Nobunaga," Chrollo says in a slightly sarcastic tone. "Thank you for your consideration."

Author's Notes: Hi, guys! Thank you very much for reading and all the support! For all the new readers and followers, many many thanks to all of you! We see in this chapter how devious Chrollo can be. And really, what else could I expect from this man? *sighs*

*xenocanaan - Ooh! You're in for a long journey if you want to find out! :D

*hisoDAMN - Thank you so much! I was a bit anxious about my writing because this is the first time I write in present tense. Also, I adore your username!

*Rikkin- Another Danchou and Spider fan, eh? We'll get along well!