Chapter LV
Remember the Scarlet Eyes, Val.
In the middle of her dream, she sees an old man cloaked in shadows and flames. His eyes are brown, but as the flames grow larger, licking high over the man's head, the brown of his irises slowly transition into deep scarlet, as if drawing the red of the flames into them. He is speaking an ancient tongue, an unknown language—then suddenly, he is gone. Smoke curls from his empty eye sockets.
She gasps and sits up from the bed, wildly searching in the dark room for the old man. Yet there is only the moonlight spilling through the crack of their drawn curtains, and Danchou lazily stirring from his sleep, sensing her anxiety.
In the darkness, his lips find her shoulder to kiss. "Nightmare, my love?"
She manages a nod, knuckles white on the blanket. Sweat rolls down the length of her spine as Chrollo hums in her ear, peppering her with comforting kisses.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"It's nothing," she whispers back, still trembling. Her gaze remains blank up ahead, to the dreary wallpaper and molding bookshelf. Her heart keeps pounding when she repeats, like some pathetic robot, "It's nothing."
He studies her face, how her gaze is wide but unseeing, golden as always. She is panting in her terror, her hands still shaking where she clutches the blanket. And her skin, when he runs a hand over her arm, feels damp and feverish. He gives her one last kiss before going downstairs.
Valtiel watches him go, his shadow mingling in the darkness. Without his constant presence, she sighs and forces herself to relax, shoulders dropping and burying her face into her hands. She breathes in and out, in and out, one and two. She needs to compose herself. If not, the Danchou would have questions that she couldn't answer.
She needs more distraction. The manuscript and the budding school are not enough. They have only been in Meteor City for a week now, and she is already spiraling down to madness.
When Chrollo returns, he brings along a tray of hot chocolate drinks and some biscuits. "I hope you're up for a little midnight snack?" he says with a small smile.
He puts it on his bedside drawer and ignites several of his scented candles, the fresh aroma of vanilla and lavender wafting in the room, drowning out the usual garbage scent of the city.
"Thank you," she murmurs, receiving the drink from him. She takes a small sip, testing the rich chocolate taste, and then smiles up at him. "This is wonderful."
"I'm glad you think so." He sinks in his usual position by the bed, his mug in one hand and the biscuit platter in the other. He holds it up between them, so she could take her pick.
Silence is never awkward between them. Whenever Danchou reads his books, Valtiel would be nearby reading her own. There is no need for small conversations between them all the time. But now, past two in the morning of a late October, the silence stretches awkwardly, and Valtiel is desperate to distract herself unless she wants the Danchou to sense her apprehension.
So, she speaks first: "You mentioned something about Nen training before."
He sets his mug aside and runs a hand through his dark hair. "Yes, that's correct."
"How should we go through it?"
"How now, my love?" he croons, and she makes a face at him. "Is this true? You're initiating a Nen training with me? The last time you trained, you were whining through the night."
"The last fight with a Shadow Beast made me realize how weak I still am," she says as an excuse, though there is some truth in her words. Even Feitan in the Leviathan agreed that she needs more practice. The world is too unkind to let her go unscathed.
"Well," Chrollo drawls thoughtfully, "do you have something in mind?"
The question brings her to a few months back, when she asked him—is it possible to create a healing ability? She looks down on her drink and purses her lips.
Time and healing, two concepts that if merged together correctly… If she could pull it off, her ability would be more useful than just disabling and killing people… If she has the skills…
She straightens herself, peering at his pale face. "I would like to learn how to heal, Danchou."
His eyebrow quirks. "Oh? Back to healing again?"
She shrugs. "I think it could be done, no?" She nods to herself. "And En, I want to learn En."
He is surprised that she has a list of things she wants to learn about Nen. A sliver of pride swells from him, to see her so eager to learn more. All the possibilities of her ability developing, all the creative ways Chrollo can incorporate it during Troupe missions. It gives him a deeper insight of her nature—long before she is even his Valtiel—as the last survivor of a long-dead clan.
Even now, her aura surrounds her like a warm blanket. It is a comforting aura, not at all like the Troupe members with their powerful, experienced auras.
"I'll arrange for your teacher," Chrollo decides, earning a quick glance from her. He finishes the rest of the biscuits and washes it all down with his drink. "For now, I want you to use Ren until morning. Keep your aura at the same pace in the next four hours. Neither wavering nor spiking."
"Right." She breathes in, deeply, then exhales with a burst of her aura. The candlelight flickers from the intensity, throwing contorted shadows all over their small room. Golden waves slither around her body, its color mingling with the candlelight glow.
To Chrollo, she is immaculate, painted in the golds, reds, and oranges against a black canvas.
The next few nights, while she is waiting for her supposed teacher, Valtiel goes back to her manuscript, Chrollo takes up the entire bed with his numerous books and clutter of fountain pens and bookmarks, his lavender-scented candles brightening the room.
She would be on her desk, either curled up with her knees to her chest or her legs stretched out lazily in front of her, working on the three books and translating several Toryuhun words. She would throw up her hands in exasperation, scratch and pull wildly at her hair, or curse in a completely different language. More often than not, it is a combination of all three. Either Chrollo would glance up at her, all smirking and amused, or he would give her a concerned look and frown at her. There is no in between.
The more she became stressed and anxious with the manuscript, the less she spoke. Whenever Chrollo has a question, she either replies with only a 'yes' or 'no'. Not even Uvogin in his most energetic could rouse a proper response from her. After a few days, the two Spiders accept that she is merely busy with her work and leave her alone.
Once or twice, Warren came up to the church to ask if she was okay. Chrollo always answers that she is busy with all the ordeal for the school, but as the days pass them by, he notices another change in her.
He sees it mostly when they are in bed, sleeping in the wee hours of the morning. He is always woken by her restless movements during her sleep, how her pale lashes sweep over even paler cheeks. She starts to have deep bags under her eyes, almost competing with his own. Her lips are bloodless; he feels them dry and chapped whenever he kisses her good night.
One cold night, Chrollo keeps a closer watch on her as she pores over the three books while tirelessly maintaining Ren. He could almost see the gears in her brain working on the foreign words. All this effort for Feitan? When they are not even that close? He feels a tinge somewhere in his chest. Nothing dangerous, but nearly unpleasant. What happened during their one-week stay in the Leviathan?
"Valtiel." His voice is soft, soothing.
She turns around in her chair, a ghost of a smile in her lips. "Yes, Danchou?"
He is getting worried now. He clears the mess on the bed and pats a space for her. "Would you teach me the language?"
"Toryuhun?" She obeys and makes her way to him. She sits cross-legged before him and he pulls her closer, tugging at her hips. "All right. I'll teach you how to say hello in Toryuhun. Ready?"
"Oh, yes." He nods, beaming at her.
"In Toryuhun, they say 'yuusain', which is literally 'good day'."
"Yusain," Chrollo repeats.
"No, no. Yuusain. You have to draw the 'yuu' part and 'sain' is two syllables. Yuu-sa-in."
"That is what I said. Yuusain." He finds himself grinning at this. "Yuusain."
She shakes her head at his ridiculous accent. It is borderline hilarious. She bites down on her lip to keep herself from smiling at his attempts. "Say it with me. Yuu-sa-in."
He shares her amusement and tries again. "You-sa-een."
"Danchou." She laughs quietly. "You're not trying at all."
"Yusain," he repeats, sounding more impatient, but in fact, he enjoys that she is slowly returning to her energetic self again, not the pale zombie he had endured for days now.
He likes seeing her eyes brighten once more and blend well with the flames of his candles. He likes seeing the rush of color back to her cheeks and her wavy hair tumbling over her shoulders as she laughs.
He repeats one more time, deliberately slower: "You-sa-in."
"You're hopeless." She cups his cheeks in both hands and squeezes, his cheeks puffing up.
"I can say it," he says in his defense. With his cheeks in her hands, his lips pucker into an irresistible, kissable pout and mumbles, "Yuu-sa-en."
She giggles and pecks his little pout.
Chrollo opens his mouth for a protest and pretends to frown. "You're making fun of me."
"Because you're so funny," she tells him, resting her head on his shoulder. His fingers automatically wound through her blonde locks.
"Should we sleep now? I'm comfortable like this." He pats her hip.
"Fine, turn off your candles then," she sighs.
"Will do." He produces his Bandit's Secret in his right hand and chooses a certain ability that shuts off the flames in the candles. With that done, he closes his book and Bandit's Secret fades away with the flames.
He catches her curious stare and explains: "It lowers the oxygen in the room." His left arm drapes around her waist and pulls her closer, their legs tangled underneath the sheets. "If you noticed the slight change in atmosphere, that was it. Less oxygen to weaken the fire. Very useful in hostage situations, if I might add. I can knock out at least a dozen people without having to move or fight them. We should try it in the next heist, I'll show you how it's done."
"No, thank you." She smooths her cheek over his shoulder and lets out a deep, tired sigh. "I want nothing to do with your heists."
They lapse into a long silence. Chrollo hopes his attempt to make her smile and feel better actually made her feel better. He doesn't want to wake up to another pale and sickly Valtiel. He doesn't want to spend the rest of the day watching her in great distress. He should invite Uvogin to stay with them for most of the day, if the Spider's presence would somehow uplift her spirits.
Perhaps she wants Phinks. Or Feitan and Shalnark. If summoning the Spiders halfway across the world to cheer up one sad Valtiel, Chrollo would gladly give the order.
He is on the verge of falling asleep when her little voice wakes him.
"Say it again, Danchou."
"You-sa-een."
She buries her face in the crook of his neck and laughs softly.
Finally, her teacher arrives. He comes in a storm of dust and stomps, as the citizens gather around him. Valtiel takes one bored glance outside their bedroom window, absent-mindedly using Ren like always, and senses his familiar aura. That—and the way how Uvogin's own aura spikes as the large Spider races outside, his heavy steps rattling the church.
Nobunaga greets his best friend with a fist bump. "Yo, Uvo!"
The spiky-haired Spider grins wider. "Took you long enough to arrive!" he admonishes, earning a teasing whack from the samurai's sheathed katana. "We were wondering if you died!"
Nobunaga wrinkles his nose with a snort. "Like I'd die anytime soon."
Then he smiles at everyone who comes to greet him, ruffling and patting the children's heads, nodding to some of the waiting Elders. When Valtiel comes flying towards him, face flushed from using Ren for hours on end, he is pretty sure she would jump in for a hug.
When she does, it still knocks the air out of him. But he notices something else. She is lighter, no heavier than an average teenager.
"Holy—" Nobunaga starts, surprised at her change in weight. He pulls back and puts both hands on her shoulders to get a better look of her pale face. "Have you been eating well?"
"Uvo-san and I had a bet," Valtiel says instead. "If you're dead or not."
"WHAT?!" Nobunaga turns a shocked, offended face to his best friend. "You bet that I'm dead? That's so rude, Uvo! Come 'ere, you!"
He unsheathes his blade and chases after the bigger man with his sword high in the air. Uvogin cackles and runs around the church's front, until Chrollo steps out from the double doors. Uvo spots their Danchou and immediately hides behind his back, despite his hulking build. He even pretends cowering behind Chrollo, and Nobunaga only stops when the leader blinks his dark eyes at him in silent reprimand.
Play time's over.
"Thank you for joining us, Nobunaga," Chrollo says in his usual soft, yet authoritative voice.
"You said you have a mission for me," the samurai grumbles.
"Indeed." The leader gestures over to Valtiel, who steps forward with her hands clasped.
"Uh," Nobunaga says lamely.
"You're to train Valtiel with En," Chrollo says without much explanation.
Nobunaga flinches, his usually narrowed eyes wide and almost bulging from their sockets. So he traveled five days, sixteen hours, walked maybe a hundred miles to get to the city proper—just to teach Danchou's girl about En! He's not prepared for this! Damn it, he didn't even bring enough clothes for this! He had thought it would be a heist like any other, but… but…
Before him, Valtiel inclines her head. "Thank you for your consideration, Nobu-san."
There was no consideration at all! His eyes go from Uvogin's mischievous grin, to Chrollo's pleasant smile, and then to Valtiel's face. Damn, even her eyebrow is arched up. She looks so much like Machi when the pink-haired Spider is in a haughty mood.
She steps forward. "When shall we begin, Nobu-san?"
Despite his misgivings, they start at that very moment. Uvogin ushers the rest of the crowd away from the church to give them some respite. Nobunaga and Valtiel settle in the main space, surrounded by wooden pews with the altar not too far from them. The sunlight spills through the cracked stained glasses.
They sit cross-legged on the stone floor, ignoring the dust. Nobunaga scratches the back of his head, unsure how to begin.
"Just so you know, I'm not the teacher type," he warns her.
"Don't worry," she says with a little smile, "I'm not the good student type either."
"Great!" He sniggers, feeling more comfortable now, even though he knows Danchou is watching somewhere nearby. With Val involved, the Danchou never really goes too far. "So, uh, I heard you wanna learn more about En?"
"Mm!" She nods. Seated so closely to her, with the sunlight on her face, Nobunaga notices that she is even paler with bloodless lips. She tips her head to the side. "Is it difficult?"
"You'll need to keep your aura refined and contain its shape for a long period of time," he starts, scooting closer, wagging an index finger in her face. "If I remember correctly, you can hold your aura in a sphere shape for a measly ten seconds, right?"
"But I can do thirty meters," she says in her defense, pouting like an indignant child.
"Pfft. Sure." He snorts, unconvinced, although he is genuinely surprised at her capabilities at this point. En Masters can typically do fifty meters, and she is more than halfway there. He falls quiet, thinking about it. It must have something to do with her great aura reserve.
Aloud, he says, "Thirty meters in more or less ten seconds is no good at all. A weaker Nen user who can extend their aura to a pathetic two meters but can hold it for more than a minute is much better. You'll have to practice both Ten and Ren for hours before you can even imagine holding a proper En for more than ten seconds."
Dutifully, she nods. "How far and how long?" is her simple question.
Nobu pauses to think, tapping his chin. Somewhere in the space, Danchou watches them.
"Start with a two-meter radius for one minute."
"Of course."
Halfway through the ordeal, she is already sweating bullets, face scrunched up in desperate concentration. It is not hard at all to do the two meters—hell, she can stretch it up to thirty meters in a snap of her fingers—but to keep it for so long is an entirely different story. For the first time since developing this Nen, time moves too slowly for her own liking.
She gasps and collapses, her aura shattering after a whopping sixteen seconds. She rests her forehead against the floor, well aware of the dust sticking to her skin.
In front of her, Nobunaga clicks his tongue. "What, giving up already?"
She hisses through gritted teeth and tries again, enveloping herself and Nobu with the same aura. This time, it trembles like a leaf as she tries to hold it longer. Again, she fails.
Irritated at her incompetence, she swipes a hand through her bangs and rubs at her eyes.
Use the Scarlet Eyes. At this point, she is convinced that her conscience is an old man with a very annoying voice. Of all times to nag at her. Scarlet Eyes grant us strength.
Shut up, her mind screams back. Leave me alone.
You liked it well enough when it saved you from dying last winter, the voice reminds her in a mocking tone. Your Scarlet Eyes saved you from the prince's mercenaries.
It was my Nen, not the Scarlet Eyes. Now, shut up.
You're nothing without the power of your Scarlet Eyes, Val.
Shut up, old man.
Just use it once. Show them your true power.
"I said—SHUT UP!"
Her aura explodes all around her, the surge strong enough to crack the stone floor. Nobunaga scrambles backwards from the malice, instinctively protecting himself with a thin coat of his aura. The lone crucifix rattles, the remnants of the stained glass shattering, the pews rumbling in wooden thuds. The gold aura pulses, gradually, into crimson, and then orange, then back to gold.
Chrollo and Uvogin rush forwards, ready to help, but Valtiel's outburst is finished.
She glares at Nobunaga, panting in front of her, then whips her head to where the Danchou and Uvogin are standing with their mouths open. She stands on wobbly legs, swaying at first, before righting and straightening herself.
The face she turns to Chrollo, when she looks up, is pale and blank.
"Why are you giving me that look?" Valtiel murmurs softly. Chrollo realizes that his horror is reflected in his Spiders, but not in her. "It's not as if it's a big problem, is it?"
"No," he whispers, glancing over her shoulder to Nobunaga. "Are—Are you alright?"
"Of course." Her voice is small, and her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Why ever not, Danchou?"
"Perhaps you should rest." He strokes her pale cheek, down to the curve of her jaw.
His fingers tingle from the traces of her aura, such unknown power lying just beneath her skin. If he could dig a little deeper, his nails into her flesh, he might be able to attain and understand such raw power.
"Do you want to eat? Sleep perhaps, my love?"
"Mm, no," she sighs, voice light and dreamy. She looks at Uvogin and receives an unwilling flinch from the large Spider. She turns behind her, fixing Nobunaga with the same blank stare.
Chrollo holds his breath until she finally turns back to him with the same dreamy expression.
"Valtiel?" he murmurs, quite worried now.
"I'll train on my own," she decides and breezes past him and Uvogin. Her aura wafts in lazy waves with her, in time with her tangled hair and swaying hips.
Once she is out of sight and her Nen barely detectable, the time starts moving again.
Uvogin is first to move, rushing towards his partner. "Sheesh, Nobu, what did you do to her?!"
The samurai sputters, still reeling from shock. "M-Me?! I didn't do anything! She was struggling with holding En! I knew she was getting frustrated, but I didn't expect—" He throws his hands up, exasperated and defeated. "This!"
The larger Spider's face drops. "Well, whatever it was, that was some nice aura, eh, Danchou?"
Quietly, Chrollo nods. "Indeed."
"Should we go after her? Make sure she's not out there murdering people?" Nobu suggests.
"Like Val will ever have the stomach for that," Uvo retorts.
"Whatcha think, Danchou?" Nobu presses.
Despite the distance, Chrollo still feels her aura. Faint, but still there. Valtiel is aiming for the school. He closes his eyes and sighs.
"No, let her be. She won't harm anyone from where she is, and I'll keep an eye on her." He turns to Nobunaga. "You're hurt."
The samurai blinks and looks down on the abrasions on his forearms. "It's nothing," he says with a careless shrug. "I didn't expect that much power, so I was a second too late to use my aura." He grins up at their leader to ease his worry. "She's getting more balls as the days pass."
At this, Chrollo tips his head in agreement. "Why don't you go and see Healer Atara?"
It is an effective way to dismiss his Spiders. Uvogin and Nobunaga chatter in low voices as they leave the church's main space, disappearing through a hallway covered by a thin curtain. No doubt those two would regale the other Spiders about this topic, and it would be a conversation in the next mission.
He steps out in the sunlight. The children are still playing their games, Warren and Julia among them. The Elders give him confused looks, having sensed the aura, but the Troupe leader says nothing. Instead, he stares out in the horizon, where the school remains silhouetted against the background, flanked with heaps of garbage, crows circling above it.
Days are passing them by without much action.
The resources from Lord Viper come in and go smoothly. Nothing escapes Elder Koran's sharp glares as heavy-set trucks deliver the crates of provisions. The equipment and materials for the school also come along, supervised by both Chrollo and Elder Ryence. Sometimes, Valtiel emerges from the school premises to watch in silence.
She keeps to herself most of the days, alone in the building, curled up in the foyer with nothing but a small bonfire to keep her warm. That, and the fact that she has multitudes of dead or nearly dead crows squawking all around her. Her Nen either keeps them alive, or slowly kills them. Chrollo doesn't know which one is which.
It is almost November now, and the winds are growing colder and harsher. She hears the children playing not too far outside, but even then, she remains unseen, huddled in days-old clothes, surrounded by her aura.
Most of the time, Chrollo comes in to visit her, delivering food, drinks, and change of clothes. He cleans up after her mess, silently noting how her aura grows throughout the quiet days.
"She shouldn't push herself too much," Nobunaga notes one overcast day.
"I know," Chrollo sighs. The last time he saw her—three hours ago—she was sweating and shivering under her sweater. "I'll come up with something sooner or later. Will you stay here? I'll fetch her a blanket."
And so he goes back to their bedroom, now grown colder without her, and returns to the school to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. He kisses her knuckles and receives a quiet thanks from her, before he jogs out again and back into the fields.
After three days, amidst reading his new book, Chrollo senses something is amiss in the school. He stares out from their window. The crows have thinned out over the days. Something is not right. He pounces off from the church's third floor and lands on his tiptoes. At once, Uvogin and Nobunaga rush to him.
The Spiders find Valtiel collapsed on her side, covered by the blanket from head to toe. Chrollo puts one big hand over her forehead and understands.
The church is in an uproar, especially Elder Ryence who is demanding every sort of remedy for the fever. Chrollo, a man with a thousand experiences, reassures everyone that Valtiel only needs to rest.
The sleepless nights he spends reading turns into nights he spends nursing her back to health. It is disconcerting that her skin feels feverish under his touch. He wipes the sweat from her forehead and neck with damp towels. He changes her shirts every now and then. Uvogin and Nobunaga visit them in their bedroom and deliver a large portion of herbs said to level the warmth of the skin. They have also brought large portions of healthy foods and medicine, and the pair spends the rest of the night watching vigil with the Danchou.
Once or twice, Chrollo curses himself under the breath for not stealing an ability that cures fever. Has no Nen user in the world thought of that? He should probably scout hospitals, clinics, and even reclusive tribes for such an ability. Next time, he would be prepared for something like this.
Five days later, she is better, sitting up on the bed and cradling Healer Atara's green concoction.
For the first time in weeks, there is emotion in her pale face. The light is back in her eyes, her cheeks becoming rosy after recovering from the overexertion. For the first time, her lips curl into a sneer at the herbal scent and the unmistakable blob of vegetable in the drink.
"What is this?"
"It's medicine," Chrollo answers, seated across from her, somewhat amused by the thought of vegetables waking her from her fever. "You need to drink it. Otherwise your strength would not return." He frowns to himself, mentally knowing that she wouldn't drink it.
"It smells awful," she points out.
"Try it, darling." He sits by her side and gathers her messy hair into a high ponytail. "It's just herbs and spices, nothing too dangerous. Imagine yourself drinking hot chocolate instead."
"Yes, if hot chocolate smells like this and looks like green poison," she snaps.
"You can do it." He grins upon hearing the little edge in her voice. She is returning to normal it seems. "I am cheering for you, Val."
Wincing, she finishes the drink in one sitting and comes away sticking her tongue out in disgust.
The Troupe leader actually cheers for her, clapping his hands and taking the mug from her. "And now you rest for the day," he tells her, kissing her damp forehead. He tucks her under the blanket and strokes her cheek. Somehow, the green concoction brings back the color of her skin. "Get some rest. We have everything to do tonight."
When tonight comes, Valtiel has enough energy to stretch her aching limbs. She manages to cross the room and check her unfinished Toryuhun manuscript. Her mind still hazy, she patters down to the showers and changes into a knitted old-rose sweater and white leggings, and walks around the room barefoot. She perches herself on Chrollo's side of the bed as she falls silent, feeling for any signs of her fever.
The Danchou bursts through the door and pauses. "Good," he says, looking prepared in his midnight blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and black pants. "You're dressed. Come with me to the rooftop. Let's have dinner there."
She checks outside the window. The skies are already dark. "Dinner?"
"On the rooftop," he repeats and holds out his hand. "Wear some shoes, would you? I prepared your favorites." He waits until she is ready and leads her out of the suffocating little room.
"I don't understand why we have to eat on the rooftop," she mumbles.
"It's a special night." He smirks and guides her though the attic window with its destroyed iron bars. They had come the same way nearly two years ago, when they first returned to the city.
They go to the other end of the flat rooftop, where his scented candles are scattered throughout the space. There is a set of tables and chairs in the middle, a few white lilies in an elaborate porcelain vase, and the food laid out elegantly on the table. A large gramophone sits not far from the table, eliciting a soft, romantic tune. The ambiance is warm and soothing, infinitely wonderful.
Chrollo leads her by the hand, sensing that she is in awe of the scenery. He guides her to sit, then rounds towards his seat across the table. He crosses his forearms on the mantle and leans forward, admiring the golden flecks in her eyes as she looks back and forth the rooftop. He likes having this view of her.
"Do you like it?"
"I don't understand…" She starts. Then her eyes widen a fraction as she realizes how time passed them by so quickly. She has been so busy with everything, fever and all, that she has completely forgotten the date. Her cheeks pale once more. "Danchou, I'm sorry—"
"It's fine. Really, Val, don't look so guilty." He laughs. "Your fever will return if you worry."
"But—" She stammers, at a loss for words, embarrassed by her own carelessness. The thought never even crossed her mind until now. If it were not for the elaborate dinner or the lilies, she would have taken this as a simple dinner. This is more than that. "No, really, I have no excuse. I should have known. It's my responsibility to remember."
"Now, now," he hushes, reaching out for her hand. The candlelight dances in his handsome face and round dark eyes. His thumb brushes over her knuckles. "You should not distress yourself into a fever again. This is our special night. I want it to be special for you, my love," he says, gentle as ever.
He starts showing off the extensive food he laid out. One quick look, and she knows these are not from Meteor City, but imported or cooked somewhere else. Another one of those five-star restaurants perhaps. Chicken filet dipped in a honey mustard sauce. Beer-marinated grilled steak. Salmon cakes. Pork chops stuffed with dried tomatoes and spinach—which the Danchou enjoys and Valtiel purposely avoids. A creamy soup. All manners of drinks, though mostly a choice between champagne, brandy or wine.
The meal is heavenly for Valtiel, who spent the last four days suffering from reheated cornbread and Atara's greenish herbal tea. She praises the Danchou and thanks him for the food, and in his grace, he shares his chicken fillet with her and she dances a little in her seat.
The evening breeze is cold, but the numerous candles are enough to warm them both. Chrollo starts the pace of the conversation by explaining the events that she missed over the days: the constant supplies from the Mafia and a message of regards from Lord Viper. Nothing out of the ordinary except for the last part.
"Viper seems to like you," he observes, rolling his chicken meat in the sauce. In the back of his head, he is not the twenty-three year old that he is now, but twelve years old, too scrawny for his own good, smuggling food under the Mafia's noses.
"Can't see why." She wrinkles her nose. "He made me kill his own son."
"Hm." Dark eyes flash at her nonchalant face, studying her expression. "You're right."
Something else reflects in her eyes. Sadness, but not for herself. Valtiel knows well enough that his suspicions towards the Mafia are not because of her. It is because of a dead little girl. She wonders where the girl was buried in this large junkyard.
Does Chrollo ever visit her? Do the Spiders?
He clears his throat and smiles. "I have something for you." He stands and fetches something from behind the crates in the corner. He walks back to her and passes the gift. He studies her face. "I never had the chance to have it gift-wrapped, I hope you don't mind."
Her eyes widen, and then soften. She takes the notebook and traces her fingertips over the maroon leather covering. It has a lock on the side, accompanied by a small brass key hanging from a black string. It fits into the lock and it clicks—opening to reveal smooth brown pages and the familiar scent of old books.
As a finishing touch, Chrollo slides a matching brass fountain pen to complete the vintage look.
"I love it," Valtiel breathes, burying her nose into the pages. He chuckles above her. "Oh, Danchou, I love it so very much." She takes the fountain pen and puts it side-by-side with the notebook. They match perfectly. She stands from the table and embraces him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, darling." He kisses her hair. "I'm glad you do like it. I was stressing what to give you," he says, pulling back and smirking at her. "It was not stolen, by the way."
"How generous of you. I'm touched."
"Of course. It is a special night after all."
She removes her arms and settles her hands on the lapels of his midnight blue shirt. "I'm sorry," she starts, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I forgot the date and I really have nothing… Um, I can find something when we go out of town… Some sort of a late present, perhaps?"
He is amused at her stammering, blushing, and trying to avoid his gaze all in one sentence. He puts his hands on her waist. "No, it's fine, Val. I don't need gifts. Besides, the one you got me last year is so priceless I think it is enough for a thousand lifetimes."
"See here." He reaches out for something around his neck and tugs the little trinket out of his shirt. The familiar mourning locket gleams shiny and golden under the candlelight. He removes it from himself and drops it into her palm. "Remember this? This is so priceless that you don't have to give me anything else. I'll have this for the rest of my life."
Valtiel turns the little thing over. The intertwined locks of her platinum blonde hair and his raven hair are still there, encased in a clear glass at the front. Opening the locket, she blinks away tears at the familiar image of herself and Chrollo, bathed in warm sunlight, him in his white shirt and her in a pale yellow sundress. Last year. A lifetime ago.
"It costs more than any treasure I have," he confirms, kissing her forehead. He drags her towards the open space, nearer to the gramophone, so both of them could hear the ballad coming from it. "Dance with me."
"Danchou, you and I both know I'm a horrible dancer."
"Good thing you are partnered with me. I am an excellent dancer."
"No doubt about it, but this is crazy."
"No, it's not," he argues. He takes her hand in his, then guides her other hand on his shoulder. His free hand comes to rest on her hip. Slowly, he starts to move in time with the music, taking small and careful steps. "See?" he murmurs in her ear. "Not at all bad, is it?"
Valtiel purses her lips and hides her ever-growing blush by burying her face in the crook of his neck. She inhales his scent and presses her forehead against the warmth of his skin. He pulls her closer, closer still, until their chests are pressed flushed together. She closes her eyes and basks in his presence. If only all nights with him were like this. But she knows this cannot be: there would be nights he has to go to work with the Troupe, and probably even leave her behind.
He presses his cheek on the crown of her head. He could get used to something as normal as this, living a peaceful life with her by his side. Now that's a riot: the leader of the Phantom Troupe, settling down with a fellow orphan. His Spiders would certainly lose their minds at the mere thought of it. Uvogin might wreck a city in his defiance. He chuckles to himself. It is only a thought, an impossible dream. He would never settle down except with the Phantom Troupe.
Still, he wants her by his side. In every mission, every milestone achieved, he wants her there. He wants to know that he is sharing these triumphs with the Troupe—and with her. Mostly, with her. She is always so supportive to everything that he knows she would love to see his success.
He draws back a little and looks down on her. He loves her in any kind of lighting—under the sun, the moon, or in the shadows. But he loves her in candlelight the best, to see her golden eyes flickering with the orange glow of the flames, a cross between her natural irises to her unparalleled Scarlet Eyes.
"Danchou," she whispers breathily into his ear.
"Yes, my love?" He shudders and leans closer.
"I finished my new Nen ability," she murmurs.
"Oh?" Excitement fills his veins, and he draws back. "Will you show me?"
She shakes her head, laughing softly. "Do you want to die?"
One perfect eyebrow arcs up. "I thought you wanted to heal?"
She rolls her shoulder, the gesture so enticing to him. "I do, but it seems my ability would never amount to anything that could heal," she says with sadness in her tone. "Time brings pain and hurt, never healing. I tried but it is never so with me."
He feels her unwavering sadness and embraces her.
"I love you," he whispers, cradling her in his arms. He missed her terribly. He missed her constant presence, he missed her scent and the feel of her in his arms. He hates that she is spiraling down, and he doesn't know what to do.
Valtiel smiles and tiptoes for him. Chrollo meets her halfway, immediately swallowing her sigh of pleasure. She tastes of something that is inherently hers. A natural sweetness on her lips, on her very tongue. He takes her face in his big hands and presses rougher and hungrier. He takes away her breath with every stroke. With every kiss, she tries to break away for air but he delves deeper still, feeling her melting into his arms.
She smirks against his skin and drags her lips from his ear across his cheek, then back to his mouth. She kisses him once and settles back flat on her feet.
"Happy birthday, Danchou."
"Happy birthday, Valtiel."
They smile at each other, until some loud, gruff voice calls from way below them.
"Hey!" Phinks is waving his arms to catch their attention. The couple peers over the rooftop's ledge. "Hey, lovebirds! Are you two finished celebrating or am I just in time?!"
Chrollo winks at her, and shouts back to Phinks: "You're just in time as we finish the celebration!"
The Spider deflates, almost pouting. "Whaaaaaat?! Can't you do a second round?"
"No more second rounds," says the Danchou.
"Just wait until Val tells you the same thing!" Phinks retorts provocatively.
"Huh?" Valtiel blinks, confused. "What does that mean, Danchou?"
Chrollo sighs at the insinuation and frowns down on Phinks.
The blond Spider grins. "I brought cake and wine!"
"Oh, fun!" Valtiel pecks Chrollo on the lips, before pouncing off the ledge to join Phinks below.
She snatches Phinks in a quick embrace and draws away to see him a blushing, sputtering mess. Laughing, she clings to his arm as they enter the church together, hip to hip.
The Danchou sighs again and removes the disk on the gramophone, blows out the candles, but leaves the table and the leftover food unattended. He joins the other two downstairs as Phinks carries his heavy baggage towards the church's altar. At midnight, none of the Elders are present to scold them three.
Uvogin and Nobunaga are waiting by the altar as the pair arrives.
Phinks cackles as he undoes the large box first, revealing a two-tiered, three-layered chocolate cake with chocolate chips and sprinkles on top. Valtiel's eyes are already sparkling.
Next, he whips out a crate with various beers, brandy, and a hundred-year-old wine. He's got smaller pastries as well—cupcakes, brownies, and some strawberry tarts. Uvogin's hazel eyes gleam at the drinks, while Nobunaga's mouth salivates at the pastries.
Phinks fetches glasses and platters from the kitchens as they settle right under the altar, clinking glasses and munching on pastries under the warm light.
"Happy birthday to you two," he says. "It's so convenient you guys share the same birthday. Less celebratory expenses for us."
"True," Chrollo agrees. "Not that we care about expenses anyway."
"Right." Uvogin barks out a laugh and looks at the young woman. "Hey, kiddo, wanna drink?"
Her eyes light up again.
"She's not allowed to drink," Chrollo interrupts.
"Aw." Valtiel pouts.
"Why not?" Uvo pouts as well. "She's twenty now! In most countries, the drinking age starts at sixteen."
"It's not very nice to have her dependent on alcoholic drinks," Chrollo points out, sounding more like an old man than a young man of twenty-three. "Besides, she has low alcohol tolerance."
"We can build the tolerance if we train her now." Uvogin wriggles his brows.
"Yeah," Nobunaga chimes in, pouring oil into the fire. "Just a taste won't hurt."
Chrollo knows they are ganging up on him, and sighs in defeat. "Fine," he grumbles and the three Enhancers beam at him like children. He chooses the lightest drink that his Spider got for them. White wine. He pours a little into his glass and offers it to her. "Sip."
She does take a small sip, then smacks her lips and sticks her tongue out. "Nasty."
The Danchou chuckles as he finishes the white wine in one go. "You don't have the taste for anything alcoholic, that's all," he says. "Just stick to your hot chocolate drinks."
Phinks sniggers. "You're such a kid, Val." He clinks glasses with Chrollo and both chug down their drinks with little to no grace. "The others must be pretty jealous by now. I get to celebrate with you two while the others don't even know where we are."
"Maybe next year," Valtiel promises.
"A double birthday celebration?" Uvo grins. "It's gonna be one chaotic party, believe me."
Author's Notes: Sorry for the rather late update! I was out sick, but nothing serious! Just sore throat and mild headache.
In this chapter, we've got Valtiel slowly losing her ✧･ﾟ: *marbles✧･ﾟ:*
That's it. That's the chapter. Thoughts and prayers for Chrollo and friends. 🙏
Thank you for reading! Thank you for the new followers and all those who leave lovely comments! I appreciate all of you so much! Take care now and enjoy the week! ❤️