Chapter LIV
It is a bright, sunny morning—and the Danchou is nowhere to be seen.
Not entirely nowhere though. Uvogin knows where he is: down in the kitchens with the cooks and that stupidly annoying Elder Koran, rummaging through the half-empty larders and barrels and keeping track of their resources. Food and shelter are free in the church, but only the most desperate come here for help. When they were children, the only good use for the church was a good hiding place during hide-and-seek. Shalnark always lost the game, being one of the two youngest in the group, and he would not stop looking for everyone even after sundown.
Instead of hide-and-seek in the church now, the large Spider sits on the couch up here in the choir loft, spacious and it allows a complete view of the nave and altar over the stone railings. The early morning sun is behind him, spilling through the stained glass windows, and throws long shadows over him and his companion.
Big as he is, Uvogin curls up on the couch and tucks his knees to his chest. He is bored from the inaction, so he peers down on her work.
"What are you doing?" he asks idly.
"I am researching," she answers, curled up on the couch next to him.
"I can see that, but researching what?"
"Toryuhun." She looks up from the brittle book and smiles up at him. "Sound familiar?"
He shrugs and shifts, quite uncomfortable. This is the closest he could get, and the first time ever that he is alone with the Danchou's girl.
Not that he is a prude and shy when it comes to women. Hardly. Uvogin has his fair share when it comes to them: fought and killed and buried six-feet underground.
It's just that… Now alone with Valtiel, his brain finally registers that she is—indeed, no doubt, sworn to the gods—Chrollo Lucilfer's girlfriend.
His first and—hopefully—last.
There is no protocol in the Phantom Troupe what to do and not do in her presence. Is he supposed to stay close or far? How far away? He probably can't touch her either; not so casually or without the Danchou's permission. Is it okay to call and treat her like a kid? Really, there are no rules when it comes to her and Uvogin is losing his mind.
So he scoots a bit farther away, little by little, and keeps his hands in his lap. He looks ahead, towards the stained windows across the church's high walls, and feels her curious stare at him.
She catches his meaning and laughs. "Why are you sitting so far?"
His jaw tightens. "I like it better here."
"Are you sure? Why that look on your face, Uvo-san?"
"Look, kid, can't you just go back to your work?"
"Of course." She sits cross-legged and gathers the manuscript she has been working on since the wee hours of the morning. She is still in Chrollo's gray-green sweater and her own white leggings, her hair pulled up in a hasty bun. "So, does Toryuhun not sound familiar?"
"It sounds a little familiar." He shrugs his shoulders again. "What's it about?"
It turns out that it is a bad question.
Valtiel bounces on the couch and scrambles over to his side. Uvo flinches, but her grip on his arm is surprisingly tight and strong. Caught off-guard, the Spider is dragged towards her and she whispers something in his ear. He nods and nods, awkward in this position where half of his upper body is arched towards her.
Then she lets him go, and he scratches the back of his neck.
"So, it's all about Feitan?"
"That's right! So don't tell anyone!" Her eyes flash at him, illuminated brighter and clearer by the play of the sunlight and stained glass together in her irises. "Shal-san already knows. Danchou knows. You should be the last one to know."
"Stop telling anyone else then," he says with a snort.
She gives him another small smile and returns to her manuscript, getting thicker and longer by each passing minute.
All Uvogin could do is to understand that she enjoys herself in this tedious work, enjoys herself in the trouble of constructing the school and breaking the norms. Any other person couldn't have gotten away with it, but the Elders dare not go against the leader of the Phantom Troupe. He grimaces.
This is a spoiled young woman he is babysitting indeed.
Time wears on, and the sunlight on their back shifts elsewhere. Uvo must have dozed off, because when he wakes, there is another pile of manuscript on the table. The dark chocolate Florentines in one platter are already finished.
For tonight, Chrollo is reading about artificial insemination. Something that has caught his attention since this early morning when he stumbled upon old newspapers in the church's meager library, then researched more about it on the internet. With Shalnark's help overseas, he could read books upon books, researches upon researches about the said topic—and really, this is taking too much of his time but he does not mind at all.
He leans back on his pillows, tablet and newspapers in his lap, the oil lamp burning brightly from his right. Curled up there for hours, he has not risen except to eat and fetch coffee, and sometimes he even does those in the bed. That way, there are no chances that he might lose a word or useful information.
The only thing that is bothering him is Valtiel's quiet attention to him.
Like him, she has been at her desk for the remainder of the day, working on her Toryuhun research and translating the language with the help of Giraud's guide. Sometimes, when her mind wanders, she stares at him, as if he is an ancient puzzle worth solving. He lets her stare and drink her fill of him, but after a few hours of immobility and staring, he's starting to be concerned.
He keeps his eyes on the online article. Artificial insemination, a practice in which the sperm is introduced to a female's uterus to achieve pregnancy, without the need for sexual relations—
Chrollo looks up and Valtiel is still staring, her entire body angled towards him. He licks his lips and leans back on the pillows, stretching his numb legs in front of him.
"I knew it," he says out of the blue, hoping to incense her. "You do like my face."
"Huh? What?" She blinks away her trance, staring dumbly at him. "What did you say?"
"You like my face. Don't you, my love?"
"Get over yourself."
He laughs and discards the tablet to the side. "Did you know that you have been sitting there for hours, but you are spending about one-third of your time staring at me?" He smirks when he catches her rosy blush under the orange light of the lamp. He pats the space beside him. "Come here, let's talk."
Sighing, she abandons her work and trudges like a zombie towards her side of the bed. She flops next to him, bouncing on the mattress and making a clutter of his old newspaper clippings on the floor. She fights the urge to laugh when the Spider leader glares at her carelessness and has to pick up the mess she made.
When he is finished discarding the clippings and tablet to his bedside table, he stretches his left arm for her and pulls her flush against him. She slides easily, resting her head on his shoulder and throwing her arm across his torso.
"How is your progress with the research?"
"Barely moving forward," she grumbles.
"What's wrong? Any difficulties?"
"I don't know what to do with it. Rewriting the books into one whole manuscript is all I can do."
"That's a good start in itself," he assures in a kind voice. "Those books are decades old, and the information in them are ancient. Giraud's work itself is over thirty years old. The libraries could use updated information for the younger generations."
"What am I to do then?"
"Make an outline. A list of what kind of information you want to include. Start from ancient history to contemporary history. It's your work. Whatever you produce, I am sure it will be a masterpiece." He pulls her closer and kisses her forehead. He can feel her smile against his shirt, and his other arm tugs at her waist and he tangles his legs with hers.
"You sound like a professional." She smiles up at him, her eyes tired and her cheeks pale.
"I have read so many kinds of books, after all."
"Why don't you ever write one then?" she wonders.
"I could, but I have no time. Troupe business always comes first."
"Of course." She rolls her eyes playfully. "Troupe always comes first."
"Now, now. Don't reproach me for it."
"I am not!" she exclaims, indignant.
He grins down on her. "But you were thinking about it."
She rolls her eyes again and buries her nose in the crook of his neck. He is so warm and feels so soft that she could fall asleep if she closes her eyes for a minute.
"No, I understand why the Troupe is important. I am not asking you to choose between the Troupe or me. I come with the Troupe—" She wrinkles her nose—"More like the background character number four who has little screen time in a novel, and who would probably die early, but you get my point."
Chrollo gives a little shout of laughter and hugs her tighter. "I adore you," he says, still half-laughing and half-grinning against her hair.
She laughs with him and pushes him back on the pillows. This time, it is her pushing herself up on her elbows over his chest and staring into his bright youthful face.
"You are so easy to amuse."
"You are amusing," he says, rolling a lock of her hair. "With that sharp tongue of yours."
"What were you reading the whole day?" She pokes his cheek to return the gesture.
"Here, I'll show you." Like an excited little boy, he reaches out for the clippings and the tablet and sits up straighter on the bed, so that Valtiel slides downwards until her face is by his lap and he is cross-legged. He spreads the brittle newspaper between them and hands her the tablet. "Are you familiar with artificial insemination?"
"I know what it means," she begins, her eyes glossing over the decades-old news about a medical breakthrough. Images of doctors, all grinning proudly. "But why are you researching it?"
"Would you like to guess?" His tone is mischievous and challenging—a bad combination.
She narrows her eyes at him. "You're not planning on undergoing the procedure, are you?"
Deep laugh rumbles from his chest. "Of course not. What do you take me for?"
He shows her the online article and points to the phrases he highlighted. "It seems the church is considering artificial insemination for their priests and cardinals. Since the process doesn't require the 'pleasures of the flesh', priests can actually experience fatherhood without breaking their vows of celibacy. A cross between science and religion."
That deadly look in her face vanishes and turns into something of wonder. She bounces on the bed. "Oh! How marvelous for them, then! Wouldn't it be sweet if a priest and a nun have a child through insemination together? Like how the Virgin Mary conceived. Their child would be considered miraculous!"
"Why, yes." He is elated that she, too, is enjoying his interests. He mirrors her smile. "I never thought of it that way. Nuns conceiving like the Virgin Mary. It would be chaste, not something out of sexual pleasures."
"And what a joy for them to experience motherhood," she murmurs, nodding at the article.
He stares at her bright face in wonder.
"Would you want to have children?" Chrollo Lucilfer asks out of curiosity.
She blinks, caught off-guard by the question. "Why do you ask?"
Valtiel sits up straighter, Chrollo pulling her onto his lap, as she is mulling over her words.
It should be obvious, right? In the way she cares for Warren, Julia, and the army of other parentless children in the streets. In the way she advocates for their education and safety. The answer should be easy, simple—yet when asked by the Troupe leader himself, such an innocent question at that, it becomes all the more challenging and almost beyond words.
She observes his face. The light illuminates his face, and he could be no more handsome than he is now, quiet and serene.
"It would be a blessing to have a child," she answers at length. Her fingers nervously fiddle with the collar of his shirt. Her lips spread into a tender smile at the thought of it, a little bundle of joy to share her life and all her knowledge with. "To raise a child would be a challenge, but I don't see why I shouldn't try it. It would be wonderful."
He nods, pensive, absorbing the information.
He never thought of it before. He knew, even when he was a child himself, that he would never father any children, to bring someone into this dark, cruel world. Chrollo had suffered enough during his own childhood that he would never ever want his child to experience the same.
But to imagine having a child now that he is older, more experienced with the ways of life? Now that he is stronger and wiser so he can protect his family and friends?
All his mind could conjure is an image of a child, perhaps inheriting Valtiel's platinum-blonde hair and his own dark eyes. Or vice versa: a child with his raven hair but with Val's golden eyes, the inevitable Scarlet Eyes when the child is agitated—which is a problem for another day.
A son or a daughter with his strength and Val's tenderness, a precious little one for the Phantom Troupe to nurture and protect. The boys would definitely have a field day of playing with the baby, while Machi, Pakunoda, and Shizuku would surely dote on them.
So many possibilities.
His breath hitches in his throat. "I think that would be wonderful, too."
When she smiles, it is soft and understanding. She leans closer and kisses his forehead.
"I love you," she says all of a sudden.
He matches her surprise, dark eyes wide. "What did you say?"
Valtiel giggles at his reaction and strokes his cheek. Even then, Chrollo Lucilfer is not moving. Instead, he is wide-eyed, mouth hanging open at the suddenness of this all. Then it makes her worry that she said the wrong thing, that she is being brave and fast again, and her feelings would overwhelm him and he would turn away from her like before.
He pulls her even closer, flushed against his torso. "Say it again," he murmurs.
She nips at her lip, feeling his warm breath ghosting over hers. "I love you."
He sighs and buries his face in the valley of her breasts, breathing in and out, in and out again. What he once thought was impossible is here. What started out as a little experiment, a mind game with which to entertain himself turns into this—this heart-pounding confession. He embraces her tightly, unable to raise his head in fear of betraying his emotions.
Her fingers tangle through his hair. She is afraid now—did she say the wrong words again? The minutes wear on. For a moment, she wonders if he has fallen asleep against her chest.
But as he moves, trembling at first, she feels something damp seeping through her nightdress. Her eyebrows knit together. She cups his face and feels for his cheek.
Lifting his head, the Troupe leader gazes up at her with tears in his eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asks, alert at once.
"Nothing." He shakes his head, and the tears stream down his face. He chuckles as she wipes her thumb under his eyelids, across the flushed apex of his cheek. He gleams when she kisses him between the eyes. "I am happy to hear it from you."
He gathers her into his arms and kisses her with the passion an orphaned boy does not know he still has after all these years. He kisses her once, very deeply, then twice, more tenderly.
"I love you, too," Chrollo says.
The next morning, they wake up to the warm sunlight in their faces and the excited shouts of laughter from the children. Valtiel rushes over to the window, the Troupe leader pattering half-asleep after her and resting his chin on her shoulder.
The children are playing in the field before the church, some sort of ball game with bats and that requires much running around. Uvo is watching from the sidelines.
She drags the half-asleep Chrollo out of their bedroom after a quick change of clothes. His raven hair is tousled upwards, her hair a tumble of mess pulled into a high ponytail, but off they go downstairs anyway.
"Good morning." Uvogin grins at them both.
"Morning…" Chrollo mumbles groggily, rubbing at his eyes.
"You okay, Danchou?" his Spider asks, amused to see their leader in his bed hair and his face dark at having been woken so early in the morning.
"I can manage," answers the dark-haired young man. He shoves both hands in his pockets and yawns again. In his sleepy haze, Valtiel is asking the children about their game and wants to play with them. It is endearing—she is always so up for anything new—but he dreads the moment she would ask him to play to complete the team and he has to agree.
Much to his relief, she asks Uvo.
The Spider is not so amused now. He points at himself. "Me?"
"Yes. Who else is named Uvo here?" She smirks. "You wanna play, Danchou?"
"Oh, no, thank you," Chrollo answers. "I will make coffee and watch instead."
"Suit yourself." She jogs to the field where the group of children are welcoming her to their game.
"This is ridiculous," Uvogin growls under his breath but follows her, joining them in the sunshine.
As promised, Chrollo watches from the staircase as he sips his steaming coffee. The game, he observes, looks like a mix between baseball and cricket, and there are really no solid rules except having to hit the ball and running the length of the field.
The children are complaining that it is unfair that Uvogin and Valtiel are playing in the same team, but Valtiel doesn't want to let go of Uvo and clings possessively at his arm. The Spider makes a face and doesn't really give two shits which team he goes to.
There are no solid scoring systems either; no one is even keeping watch on the hits. There is one child making marks on the soil and that's it. How could they play with no rules or scores? How would they determine the winning team afterwards?
In all, Chrollo finds the entire game a complete mess, but everyone is having enough fun to disregard the flaws of their game. He is expecting it to end in tears—for the children mostly—but everyone is all smiles that he shrugs off any more dark thoughts.
It is almost afternoon when they finish the game. Valtiel runs up to him covered in dust and sweat, her shirt clinging to her like a second skin. The color is flushed to her cheeks, giving her a slightly tanned tone to contrast her usual pallor. He is glad she enjoyed herself in the game.
"Ah, I feel disgusting," Uvo complains, also covered in dust and sweat. "I'm taking a shower."
"There are showers at the back," Chrollo informs him.
"I'd like to shower there, too! I'll go get my clothes and we can go together, Uvo-san!"
She kisses Chrollo on the cheek and dashes off inside the church again.
Uvo raises his hand to stop her, but she is already gone. The hand drops to his side. Defeated, he looks down on his leader still seated on the stairs. "Is she always this energetic?"
Chrollo chuckles against his mug. "You have no idea." Then he stands and lets the breeze stir his ridiculous hair. He gives his friend a soft, thoughtful look. "Keep her entertained, would you? She seems to be in a very playful mood today. Just don't infuriate her or anything. She's a menace when the temper clicks. I'm going back to read inside."
"Sure." Then Uvo flinches. "Wait—what do you mean not infuriate her?!"
"You'll find out one way or another," the Danchou answers, very unhelpfully.
The church has a small area dedicated for showers at the very back. It looks more like a gym's shower area with its tiled floors and cubicles, although Uvo cringes at the grimy walls and slimy floor. He tosses her an extra towel from the supplies room and lets her go first, uncomfortable at the thought of showering at the same time as the Danchou's girl…friend…
There is hot water prepared for her, and she makes quick work of the sweat and dust clinging to her skin. She changes into a black long-sleeved top and drawstring shorts, and emerges from the bathroom patting her hair dry.
"Your turn," she says, clapping hands with him as they substitute places.
While the Spider is in the shower, she searches around the area. She has never been in this part of the church, quiet and dark as it is. She has always preferred the front with its loft and stained glass. Here, it seems this is the forgotten part—if not a little darkened from the wooden planks nailed to the windows on the second floor. Shafts of sunlight are poking between the cracks, dappling the cold stone floor beneath.
She spots a small room in the corner. The door is askew, hanging off from its rusted hinges. She flicks the light on. It blinks on and off, reminding her of lights from a haunted house. Half-crumbling bookshelves are lined up against the wall, along with a mess of old books, newspaper clippings, empty beer bottles, torn boxes, and abandoned children's toys.
Curious as always, she rummages through the ancient books. Some are in languages unrecognizable to her. Others are merely notepads with a child's mindless scribbles. Then, buried beneath a thick pile and pushed back in the corner, is a maroon sketchpad.
"There you are," Uvo chirps from behind her, standing by the door, wrinkling his nose at the dust. He did not take a shower just to get more dirt on him in five seconds flat. "What are you doing here?"
"I found this." She dusts off the sketchpad and runs a finger over the brittle cover.
"What is—" The Spider swallows. He recognizes the damned thing. He watches in rapt terror as Valtiel brings the thing along, poring over the pages yellowed by time.
"Fei," Valtiel reads the short name scribbled in the cover. "I didn't know Fei-san could draw?"
They enter the front of the church again. Valtiel finds a pew near the altar and sits there, still cradling the damned sketchpad. Uvo sits beside her.
"He used to draw stuff when we were younger," he explains, cautiously peering over her shoulder. She opens the first page and it shows a landscape of Meteor City bathed in the reds and oranges of sunlight. He smiles at the memory. "One of his earliest works."
"This is amazing," she gasps in so much awe for the dark-haired thief.
"Little bastard didn't speak for almost a year since he arrived. We all thought he was mute. He kept glaring and avoiding us."
He stops himself short. What if she doesn't remember this part of their childhood? He'll be in big trouble with the Danchou if this gets out. He clears his throat.
"It was his sketches that drew Danchou closer to him at first," he finishes lamely.
"This is beautiful work," she murmurs, flipping from one page to another. The first sketches are of Meteor City and its surroundings, hasty sketches of crows in the smoky skies. She smiles and traces the lines.
The next pages consist of people: the odd-looking tribal citizens, the Elders and some children. Uvo names those he remembers. Then, the young Phantom Troupe members come. Valtiel squeals with laughter at the sight of a scrawny sixteen-year-old Phinks. There is Nobunaga and Pakunoda on one page, Machi on the other. She laughs and shoves the sketchpad into Uvo's face, the latter grumbling and shying away from a drawing of himself in an afro.
Feitan has a drawing of Chrollo in a bright palette. Valtiel studies the drawing where the young Danchou is reading books under the altar of the church, with a lone shaft of sunlight pouring down on him. It warms her that some ten years on, the scenery is not much different.
The next sketch perks her utmost interest. "Who is this?"
"Hm?" He glances at the drawing and pales.
"Uvo-san?" She stares at his face, blinking.
"That's…" The words are dry in his mouth. Ten years on, he still could not bring it to himself to say the name. In one question, he remembers the nightmare that happened and their loss, their unbearable loss. He grinds his teeth and whispers, "That's Rhanion."
"Rhanion," Valtiel tries the name for herself, still puzzled.
Among Feitan's works, this young girl is drawn with the brightest palette. She has golden blonde hair, straight and falling to her shoulders. Her green eyes are round and bright and so full of life. She is holding hands with Shalnark, sharing his blond hair and green eyes. Side by side, there could be no second guesses about their relationship. Both children are laughing, Shalnark holding a book and Rhanion with a basket of flowers.
She recognizes those. Khervee. Scabiosa in the common language, if she remembers correctly. The sacred flower of the Toryuhun. It is a cushion-like flower with fluffy lavender-blue petals.
She then notices that the young girl's hair is also adorned with a crown of khervee flowers. She taps at the sketchpad and looks up to the Spider again.
"Who is Rhanion?"
He shifts, uncomfortable with the topic. Even the Spider could feel her patience thinning out, and Danchou's constant reprimands of keeping her in a good mood starts ringing, ringing, ringing alarm bells in his brain. He scoots a bit further away and sighs in defeat.
"Rhanion was Shal's twin sister."
"Shal-san has a twin sister?" Valtiel gasps.
"Y-Yeah. Anyway, she died." Hell spare them again from the nightmare of that night. Hell spare him again for having to retell this story, to Valtiel no less. "She, uh, was caught smuggling out rations while one of the Ten Dons was visiting. She was with Fei and Danchou back then."
He checks at her face—she is listening intently, her brows knitted together. His sweat rolls long and cold down his back. Of all times, of all people, it has to be her. Worse, it has to be him.
Damn it.
"They were caught by the Mafia grunts. The Don found out and promised to let them go if they were honest. I really don't know what happened next. The Mafia Don just killed her, right in front of Danchou and Fei."
Golden eyes widen. "He killed her… in front of Danchou and Fei-san?"
His heart sinks upon remembering the night they went home after that incident. "Yes, it was devastating for everyone."
He puts his face into his hands and rubs his eyes with his knuckles. He doesn't want to remember this, but these questions are triggering all the memories. Feitan angry all the time. Danchou silent, distant, inconsolable. Shalnark was at a loss for months.
Valtiel falls silent. She lived in Meteor City. She grew up with these children. Where was she all this time? Where had she been? Where are all the memories of this fatal incident?
It is as if all this time she has been looking at the world through a keyhole—and now the door is opened for her.
She goes back to the sketch. She flips through the other pages.
This is the one and only drawing of Rhanion. The rest are just the young Troupe members. She keeps her mouth shut even as she notices the lack of drawings of herself. Perhaps she and Feitan were never really close as children. Perhaps she and Rhanion were not friends. Perhaps she stayed with her grandfather in the church while the others played in the fields.
She doesn't know. She doesn't know anything now. All she knows about herself, everything she thinks she knows—they are shattering about her head and there is only one voice that keeps calling out to her.
The Scarlet Eyes.
Frightened by the old man's voice ringing in her mind, she shuts the sketchpad and gives it back to Uvo. She knows what she has to know: that the loss of Rhanion triggered all these anxieties in Danchou, and perhaps even Feitan's distancing himself to others. She could see that Rhanion even has effects even on Uvogin, who buries his face in his hands and refuses to look at her.
She fits in the picture of the Phantom Troupe's shared childhood—but poorly.
Very, very poorly.
It takes her back to those months spent in the museum. All her research about the Kurta Clan and their famous Scarlet Eyes. They all end up in Lukso Province without any more answers. She destroyed all evidence of her research when Danchou arrived so unexpectedly. She never thought of the murdered clan again now that he is back and guarding her.
"Danchou might be wondering where we are." Uvo stands and holds out his hand.
"Yes," Valtiel murmurs obediently.
At the stairs leading to the choir's gallery, Chrollo awaits for them. He smiles at his friend, and then snakes an arm around Valtiel's waist. He pulls her against his hip and compliments the sweet fragrance in her hair.
Watching his face, Valtiel just stares.
Author's Notes: As I'm writing this, I feel so giddy. bHunter x Hunter is officially coming back!/b Togashi-sensei just made his own Twitter account and he is regularly posting updates to the manga! I can't believe I—or us, fans—managed to wait four years for its return. (Also I wanna share how someone replied to Togashi-sensei's tweet and requested a naked Chrollo panel, I'm weak 😂)
So! Celebrating Togashi-sensei's return, here is a painful chapter. Thoughts (and prayers, for the Troupe, mostly) are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think and how Valtiel could possibly cope with this new information.
Thank you for reading! Enjoy the new week ahead. ❤️