Chapter LVIII
"What are we going to do with Valtiel? She's dangerous."
Chrollo sits back, chin lazily propped on his palm, as his dark eyes flit back and forth across the speakers of the conversation. The Spiders are seated in a circle, the motel's lobby warmed by a small fireplace. He just listens as Nobunaga starts the discussion, as though Chrollo is not seated among them and talking about his little Nen prodigy—and menace, if he has to say so himself.
"So, you mentioned that she was frustrated with learning Nen and had to teach herself, is that right?" Shal recollects, blinking at Uvogin. "Has she been frustrated or stressed lately?"
"It's Val," Phinks huffs. "She's always so emotional."
Chrollo narrows his eyes, easily putting two and two together.
"And her Nen has always been influenced by her emotions," Shizuku chimes in, blinking beneath her large glasses. "When she's stressed, it leaks out. When she's happy, it stays dormant. It's quite uncanny."
Not for the last living Kurta, but Shizuku doesn't need to know that part—Chrollo purses his lips at that.
"So!" Uvogin claps his hands. "We just need to make her happy all the time."
A simple yet seemingly foolproof plan—Chrollo once again notes.
The rest of the Spiders turn to their Danchou for his input. He feels rather sorry that they feel on the edge just because his little charge went overboard with her Nen and had to devise a reversing technique that no one, not even Chrollo, has any ideas to defend against. Unless it means hurting Valtiel and disabling her from using her ability, the Danchou is at zero ideas for now. He'd never put his hands on her like that.
He crosses his legs and sighs. His head is starting to throb. Why does Valtiel have to be such a headache?
"Yes, Uvogin. We'll keep her happy all the time." A feat that doesn't sound too hard. After all, she is easy to please. "But we'll also have to keep her in a safe environment. This rewind ability is dangerous if she loses her control over it, so we cannot allow her to accompany us for Troupe missions as often."
"Aw, what, really?" Shalnark pouts, arms crossed over the chair's backrest and resting his chin on his arms. His green eyes glimmer with sadness against the firelight. "It won't be as fun without Val."
"We cannot rely on the meager chances of her not losing control," Chrollo explains reasonably. "She is still new to Nen and right now, I think it is safer that we pivot her attention to the school rather than developing her Nen even further. She'll be safer in Meteor City."
This feels very wrong. To think that Chrollo would go from encouraging Valtiel to learn Nen to actively sabotaging her progress just because she went overboard. Because she went too far where the Phantom Troupe couldn't follow without putting personal harm on her.
Why are you such a headache right now, my love?
Phinks exhales with a tiny frown. "I think that's for the best," he murmurs. "Kid's plate is already full. Let's just leave her in the city. I'm pretty sure Val's less inclined to lose her shit when around the children."
Chrollo almost laughs at that. Phinks is right—no matter how pissed off Valtiel might be, she would not put the children in immediate danger. She will learn to control her temper and her Nen.
"Don't worry. I'll handle it." The Danchou rises from his chair and proceeds upstairs.
He waits for almost an hour. When her breathing changes, Chrollo perks up.
"Are you awake, Valtiel?"
"No."
He chuckles. "I know you're upset with me."
She groans and searches around the new surroundings. They are not in the cabin at the mountains, but they are not back in Meteor City either. Wherever this is, the room is quiet and modest. She could feel the Spiders lingering downstairs.
Swallowing her pride, she sits up on the bed, realizing that they are in a tight room with one small bed, one bedside table with an old lamp, and one chair where the Danchou sits now.
In the dimness, his dark eyes are like two black holes, drawing the light into the void. He looks regal buried in his furred coat, hands in his pockets, one leg gracefully crossed over the other. He has the Toryuhun manuscript laid across his lap. He smiles, but even that is not enough to mask his malice.
"Why are you the way you are?" she asks simply.
"Indeed." He sits back in his chair, leveling her with a thoughtful look. "I wonder why."
He wonders how they came to this point—him, the leader of the Phantom Troupe saving her from her fate; and her, an orphan who has gained so much experience under his wing. Now, some two years on, they are lovers in every sense of the word, but also not quite lovers yet. There are still things he doesn't understand about her. He still has this overwhelming need to experiment on her.
Valtiel's vision blurs for sitting up too long. She winces and leans against the headboard. "If you wanted to see my ability, you should have just told me upfront," she says, frowning at her pounding headache. "I would be more than happy to show you how it's done."
His polite smile never wavers. "Done on what? Crows and little animals?" He shakes his head at the absurd thought. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and the feeble light in the room catches his handsome face, illuminates his unconcealed amusement.
She narrows golden eyes at him. "You wasted lives in pursuit of your own curiosity," she whispers, mostly to herself. "You improvised that heist only so you could force my hand."
"Not entirely. We did that mission for the money as well. Those weapons would fetch a high price in any Mafia community in any country. As we speak, Shalnark is offering the weapons for the highest bid." He hums, this bastard that she loves. "All this for the school's maintenance, remember? We have students to maintain. So many mouths to feed."
"A means to an end," she simplifies.
"Exactly." He nods, resting his chin on the heel of his palm again. His dark hair frames his face. "Tell me, sweetheart. Is it true? Did you rewind those soldiers?"
"I don't know how it happens, honestly." She sighs, caressing the pain in her temple. Her head is swirling more, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Her fingertips buzz. "All I know is I'm reversing their time. Perhaps you're right—maybe I did rewind them out of their time."
"What are your restrictions?"
"How now?" Despite her headache, she glares across the room. "You're not stealing it, are you?"
"And put all your hard work to waste?" He chuckles. "Of course not, dearest."
She relaxes on the bed, letting her shoulders drop. Again, she groans and tries her best not to focus on the pain, but it keeps gnawing at her, pounding against her skull, her heart beating rapidly and irregularly. She is afraid to cough even the slightest, fearing blood would follow and the Danchou and the rest of the group would have to worry about her.
Sensing her pain, Chrollo finally stands up and sits on the mattress. He pulls off his black leather gloves so he could touch her, skin on skin, brushing his thumb over her pale cheek. He combs his fingers through her tangled hair and leans down to kiss her on the nose.
"Forgive my insolence, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses on her face, her cheeks, her hair. He massages her tense shoulders until the tension drains from her. "You're right, I mainly wanted to see your new ability. The weapons were consolation prizes."
"I can forgive you," she says. She feels his warm lips kiss her eyes. "But I won't forget how you forced me to kill them." Her eyes flash at him, gold upon his dark gray. "To satiate your curiosity."
"I'll make it up to you," he whispers. "I promise."
"What happened to the prisoners?"
"They escaped to the nearby villages. I guess they scattered all over the area, to make it harder for their pursuers, as you understand." He purses his lips. "In this weather, it would be difficult for the Mafia higher-ups to assemble a team to subdue them."
She nods, comforted at the thought of them escaping. "What shall we do with the weapons now?" she asks, weary of this conversation. What's done is done. There is no point in blaming herself or Chrollo like two children in the playground.
"We'll sell them to the highest bidder. Kakin seems to be very particular about weapons in the past few years. Something big might happen in the next year or two. Which reminds me—perhaps that's why the Fourth Prince wants you. He needs someone by his side when whatever hellhole finally happens."
"Don't remind me." She wrinkles her nose. "Are we still in Kakin territory?"
"We're in Tengri-gel, a small neighboring country, almost an annex to Kakin."
"Ah, charming."
"I saw that your manuscript is ready. Are you going to have it published? Bound, at least?"
"I haven't really thought of it. I could have it bound once the mission is over." She sighs, and Chrollo doesn't miss her fond little smile. "I would really like for Fei-san to read it first. I want to know what he thinks."
He catches onto that. This is it. This is how he earns her forgiveness.
She pulls the blanket off her, swinging her legs off the bed. "Where are the others?"
"Downstairs." He fetches her own black coat and shuffles her into it.
They find the other Spiders huddled before a fire in the small lobby. The doors are barred shut, the curtains drawn against the raging blizzard. In the dark corner of the room, the dead receptionist is left with a broken neck, stuffed between his desk and bookshelf.
Valtiel is about to smile at the others, when she notices the change in their behavior. Instead of greeting her like they always do, they draw away from her, flinching when her gaze lands on them. She blinks in confusion and looks up to Danchou for answers.
Chrollo clears his throat and pushes her forward by the small of her back. He directs her to sit on the unoccupied couch. Phinks, nearest to the couch, winces and scoots a few steps away.
The others are awkward in their silence, avoiding her eyes, pretending to mind their own business, which is nothing, since there is nothing in this lobby but the small hearth.
"What's wrong?" Valtiel asks, earnestly hurt and confused. What did I do now?
"Val—" Chrollo starts, as if to soothe her temper. "Darling—"
"It's fine," Uvogin interrupts, picking at his ear. "You're fine, kid."
"Then what's wrong?" she asks more softly, her lips trembling downwards.
Phinks flinches from where he sits on the ground. He doesn't want to deal with a crying Valtiel tonight. He groans and pats the space next to him. "Come 'ere, kiddo. Don't worry about it."
She huddles in her too-large coat and sits beside him. Her eyes are glassy, her nose red from the cold. To Phinks, it looks like she has just been bullied. He drops a large hand on her head, patting her as Danchou sits on the couch instead.
"How are you feeling, Val?" Shizuku asks from across the circle.
"Tired," Valtiel murmurs, embracing her knees to her chest. "Why are you all avoiding me?"
"We're not," Nobunaga sniffs.
"Could be the weather," Shalnark offers with a strained smile. "We're all restless."
But she is not convinced. Seated beside Phinks with Danchou in her line of sight, she knows when they are holding back from her. She tests the waters, summoning a little bit of aura.
At once, Phinks removes his hand from her head and even scrambles backwards, bumping into Nobunaga. The rest of the Spiders react accordingly: with surprise, then with their hostile auras, defending themselves from her.
Above them all, Chrollo Lucilfer laughs.
Shalnark calms down, putting his antennae away. "You scared us, Val."
"Why?" Valtiel could hardly imagine the Phantom Troupe members being scared of her. It is like a bunch of wolves afraid of a little lamb. This is laughable in her own eyes. Are they teasing me?
"Y-Your aura," Nobunaga starts, gulping. "Your… ability…"
"Oh." She casts her eyes down. So they all saw. Not only Danchou, but everyone else. She cradles her head at the blooming pain beneath her eyes again. "I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't mean to make everyone worried. I promise to be more careful with it."
"Tch, that's nonsense!" Uvogin crawls on all fours to get to her. He pushes Phinks further away and puts an arm around Valtiel, squeezing her against his hard, massive build. "That was incredible work, Val, lil kiddo! Good job!"
Somehow, this is comforting to her, to have the physically strongest Spider hold her gently against him, offering words of encouragement to soothe her already wrecked nerves. One by one, the Spiders nod their agreement, murmuring congratulations over the new Nen ability.
Nobunaga folds his arms, his hands disappearing into his long sleeves. "Just be mindful when and where you use it," he warns, sounding like a wise old man. "And take care of yourself."
She takes a deep breath, nodding to the advice. "Yes, Nobu-san."
Chrollo watches from the sidelines: how Uvo pinches Valtiel's cheeks to the point where they are going red and Nobunaga has to smack his hands away; or how Phinks sighs exasperatedly and offers the last platter of cookies before they killed the receptionist; or how Shizuku smiles at Valtiel from across the room.
All these little gestures, he observes, soothes his beloved's anxiety.
Suddenly, Shal's laptop dings and he throws a fist in the air. "YES!"
Everyone turns to him. "Found a good match?" Shizuku asks.
"Mm!" Shalnark types hurriedly in his laptop and grins at them. "It's someone from the dark net, and he is offering 500 million for all the weapons."
"That's the highest they would sell?" Chrollo sounds half-amazed, half-disappointed.
"Unfortunately." Shal blinks at their leader. "Do you want to take it?"
"Might as well. That should be enough to last a few months for the school." He looks down on Valtiel on the floor, munching on the cookies. "Wouldn't it, dear?"
"I should think so," she says through a mouthful, crumbs flying everywhere.
"Very well." He sighs as Uvogin grins at her manners.
"I'll arrange a meeting with him then." Shalnark sets to work on his laptop.
The rest of the night is spent in silence, with only the fire cackling in the hearth and the winds outside. Still tired from the mission, Valtiel falls asleep, slumped against Uvogin's side. He flushes and looks up to Chrollo for help. Chuckling, Danchou carries her back upstairs, tucking her into bed like his own daughter.
He stays by her bedside, admiring her face. She is always so beautiful to him. The way she smooths her cheek over the pillow or how her lips pout when she dreams.
Unable to resist, like always, Chrollo sheds his coat and boots, and slips into the bed with her. He leaves the lamp burning so that he could still watch her, propping himself up with his hand while the other traces her jaw and down to her throat.
He wonders if he should tell her his dark little secret—that the prisoners did escape, yes, but Sochigel's governor had received the warning and sent soldiers around the mountain. He wonders if he should tell that the prisoners still died, bleeding in rivers in the snow.
No. She doesn't need to know that.
Still in her sleep, Valtiel wakes a little and smiles when she realizes he is in bed with her. He smiles back and presses a lingering kiss on her mouth. She sighs against him, accepting his kiss, then nuzzles into his chest as she falls asleep again.
"Zür ta naryn khair," he whispers, picking up the Toryuhun language. "Vechno."
My heart is yours. Forever.
Chrollo has their group cooped up in the motel for two more days, until he is sure that the weather holds firm, enough to let them travel to their destinations. This time, they would be separated into different groups. As always, his Spiders know their orders.
Everyone, but Valtiel.
He steps into the motel's porch, squinting at the whiteness that extends as far as the eyes could see. The temperature dropped drastically last night that he and the Spiders were shivering in front of the small hearth. Nobunaga wanted to make a bigger fire, but cautious that the Mafia would notice, they opted to shiver and huddle amongst themselves.
He pulls his collar up against the cold winds. He feels the motel stir inside—his Spiders are awake. In the distance, he sees a dark figure moving towards them.
Frost crunching under his boots, Chrollo turns back into the lobby. Everyone is dressed in their thick coats and jackets, their faces determined and quiet.
"Shal and Phinks," he starts, the mentioned Spiders straightening up from the attention, "are the weapons ready?"
They nod. Phinks jabs a thumb over his shoulder, to the window where the truck is loaded and ready to go.
Chrollo turns to the next group. "We'll head off to deliver these weapons to our client," he says in his usual soft tone. "Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Shizuku—you'll go back to Meteor City and keep watch on the school's progress. We've been gone long enough for trouble to brew."
The three nod as well. Uvogin and Nobunaga bump fists over Shizuku's head.
At the very back of the group, rosy-cheeked and red-nosed from the cold, Valtiel shivers under her two layers of coat and a woolen sweater. Chrollo feels his knees go weak at the vulnerable sight, but then he realizes Phinks has everything covered—the blond man fusses over Valtiel's coat and tucks her scarf more properly around her neck. When he finishes, Phinks pats her on the head, adjusting her woolen beanie.
Danchou couldn't help but smile at the sight.
"And Valtiel—" he continues as the newcomer finally steps behind him, tapping the snow off his boots. Chrollo sidesteps to let everyone see him.
"Yo!" Uvogin roars the loudest. "Feitan!"
"Damn it." Feitan's sneer is obvious despite his skull bandana. "So loud again."
"Hey! Rude!" Uvo barks back, canines showing as he grins.
Across the room, Chrollo notices how Valtiel's eyes widen with delight. His beloved rushes up the stairs, and then comes back ten seconds later with her manuscript.
By the time she returns, everyone else has swarmed around Feitan, all eager and happy to see him again after several months. Chrollo watches in amusement as Valtiel deflates like a little puppy, teary-eyed and embracing the manuscript to her chest and burying half of her face behind the scarf Phinks fixed for her.
He decides he has had enough of her looking so down. He clears his throat, and everyone shuts up like they always do.
"The last group would be Feitan and Valtiel," Chrollo announces. He catches Feitan's quick glare in Valtiel's general direction. "I believe Val has something to accomplish, so Feitan would be so kind to accompany her while everyone else has their missions."
"Tch." Feitan clicks his tongue. "I on babysitting duty again."
"Cheer up, Fei!" Shal laughs. "You've always been so good at it!"
"Just don't make her cry," Nobunaga yawns.
"I'll give you a reason to cry, Nobu-san," Valtiel retorts.
"Aha!" Uvogin grins at her. "That's the spirit, Val!"
"Alright, everyone." Chrollo sighs. He needs to get everyone back on track before they get too carried away with their bickering. "You all have your orders. So let's move out."
Shizuku leads her group first, followed by a yawning Nobunaga and a whistling Uvogin. They have their own truck to get to the other side of the country. Shalnark consults his red phone as he reviews their travel itineraries and airship tickets. Phinks grumbles under his breath and goes to the truck, loaded with weapons; he would be their driver for their trip.
Danchou watches them all go, waiting until only he is left with Feitan and Valtiel in the lobby.
Once everything is settled, he turns his heels and approaches her.
She is still sulking. He chuckles. "What's wrong?"
She pouts. He knows she is sulking because she couldn't surprise Feitan first with the manuscript she has worked so hard for, day and night, all those restless nights, those sick nights, the headaches and the cramps in her hand.
"Love, my love," Chrollo chides, kissing her forehead. "You worry too much."
"Shouldn't you be on your way?" she points out, ungracious as always.
"You're still upset with me that you want me to leave now?"
"Not really." She flushes. "I think you shouldn't keep your team waiting, that's all."
"Understandable." He lifts her chin up, so he could meet her eyes. "I shall be gone only for a few days. I'll call you if there are any changes in plans, but I should be back in Meteor City within the week. Until then, you are free to wander around—with Feitan, of course."
At the mention of his name, Feitan perks up and nods in obedience.
She embraces the manuscript tighter. It would be nice to be away from Meteor City for a while. It has been months since she last traveled. "For a week?"
"Yes. An entire week for your indulges." That should be enough to satiate her.
"Okay." Her sulking face transitions into an excited one, Chrollo is mesmerized on how easily her moods shift. She beams up at him, her rosy cheeks making her look more adorable. "I can go anywhere as long as Fei-san is with me?"
"Absolutely." He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. His eyes never leave hers as he comes up from the kiss, and then lean down for a kiss on the lips.
"Hm," Valtiel sighs against his mouth. "Deal."
"I'll see you in a week." Chrollo gives one last kiss on the forehead, then turns to his friend, who is doing a good job averting his eyes from their intimacy. "Thank you for indulging us, Fei."
Feitan shrugs helplessly. "I babysitting duty am, always."
Like a wife, Valtiel stays on the porch and watches as the truck wheels away. She sees Chrollo by the window, smiling his farewell, and she waves a hand to him. She keeps waving until they are out of sight, the truck loaded with weapons disappearing between the thick evergreen trees and cliffs lined with snow.
At once, she rounds towards the motel's lobby.
"Fei-san!" she gushes, red-nosed from the cold outside. "Min bain nadad pre zü!"
The thief narrows his eyes at her words. Slowly, the gears in his brain start working. Like a man in a dream, Feitan's black eyes widen as he whips towards her in a blur of black. His skull bandana has been pulled down this afternoon, so when he gapes at her, the sight is delicious. The language finally registers to him.
I have something for you.
She smiles victoriously as she sits by the fire and offers the manuscript for him to see.
He moves languidly towards her, never removing his gaze off the heap of papers. He drops cross-legged, as his hands reach out and touch her hard work for the very first time.
Valtiel watches him read the title—the Toryuhun had their own script, a way of writing, and it had taken her weeks and some cramps to perfect the strokes with her fountain pen. Feitan delicately brushes his fingertips over the calligraphy, his breath caught up in his throat. He turns to the first page, scouring over the words, nodding to himself as he understands them.
Next page, and then the next. A combination of the Toryuhun background and some of their native words translated to the common language. There is one small sketch of their Earth God, who, according to the myths, made the earth by separating lands from rivers and skies, and gifted the lands to the desert clan.
His eyes fill with tears as he reads more passages, rediscovers more of his mother's lost culture, remembers all the words and childhood stories she had told him as a child.
"Why?" Even his voice breaks, trembling. "Why do this?"
"I thought you would have liked it."
His scoff tells her he is not convinced.
She smiles tenderly.
"I thought it would have been nice if you remembered where you came from," Valtiel says, watching the feeble fire cackle in the hearth. "We all come from something and somewhere, you know? All these years of travelling and fighting, surrounded by different people, you would have lost yourself. This would be a good time to remember your home, so as not to lose yourself."
"You thought everything," he breathes, overwhelmed at this honor. The language returns to him and surges over him like a tidal wave of nostalgia and emotions, something Feitan thought he has forgotten for years.
Ironic how Valtiel is the one telling him all about remembering one's home and culture.
He chuckles to himself, still reading the manuscript. "Rahma zü." Thank you.
She beams at him. "Zür taitav!" You're welcome.
He shakes his head at her childlike enthusiasm. "Tinnu."
She gasps and actually smacks him on the shoulder. "Fei-san! That's rude! I'm not an idiot!"
They spend the rest of the day like this, huddled before the fire. Feitan sits back and reads everything, nodding his approval every once in a while.
Towards midnight, the temperature is so low that even the fire is not enough to warm her hands. She curls up on the unoccupied couch, leaving Feitan to read by the light. The stillness in the room yet occasional evening gusts outside lull her to sleep. She tries her hardest not to fall asleep, but Feitan falling into such silence does her no good.
He senses her becoming slack on the couch. For the first time in hours, he looks away from the pages and leers to where she curled up, hands tucked under her chin. He hears her shiver beneath her coat. Quietly, he goes upstairs, strips the blanket from the bed, and goes back downstairs to cover Valtiel with it.
He sits on the floor, his head angled towards her sleeping face. She looks peaceful in her sleep, except for the red nose and flushed cheeks. Her pale bangs fall across her forehead, and she wrinkles her nose in annoyance.
Tinnu. Feitan reaches out and brushes the bangs off her face. She stops wrinkling her nose, and lets out a soft, contented sigh. He rolls her bangs over his index finger, musing to himself. Very idiot girl.
He could spend the rest of the night just watching her sleep, wondering what happened between them that made her so invested in his culture. Was it their time in the Leviathan? He doesn't know. All he knows is that her heart is always in the right place, at the right time. It's somewhat… endearing…
Feitan brushes the pad of his thumb across her cheek and leaves her to rest.
Much later, she wakes up in the wee hours in the morning and finds him still hunched over the manuscript, an eager child reading a book for the very first time. She nuzzles deeper into her thick blanket and watches him in silence. The fire's glow brightens his dark eyes, making them shimmer.
"My mother was Toryuhun," he says in the darkness. He senses her waking up a bit more.
"You never mention anything about your past," she murmurs. She gathers the blanket around herself and sits beside him again. She shares the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. His body relaxes. Her eyes, still heavy-lidded from sleep, regard him.
With nothing else left to lose, Feitan tells her everything.
His mother began her life as a traveler. When her lover—Feitan's father—disappeared all of a sudden, she began her life as an independent woman. When she gave birth, she began her life as a single mother. With every ending, there is a new beginning.
She believed in many good things in life. The sun, the sky, the earth, and the stars in between. In the changes of the seasons, of the hope that they bring. She believed in the innate goodness and kindness in people, and basked in them.
Once upon a time, he believed in those good things, too. As a child, he looked up at the sun and wondered why it shines so brightly. He looked out the window and saw the rain, and his mother encouraged him to dance in them. He saw goodness in people like she did.
That was years ago.
In the end, the very goodness his mother believed in was her downfall. A war was looming in their country. As a hospital nurse, she was dragged away from her young son and forced to treat the many wounded instead of caring for her child. That was the last time they had seen each other—both crying out for each other as the other was being taken away. She was shipped off to the war and he was shipped off by that country's Mafia to a stinking town filled with garbage.
When his mother was taken away, his life as an orphan began.
So much for the world's goodness.
So when Valtiel came along, Feitan hoped she would stop caring for the world, which, in the grand scheme of things, would not give two cents about her. He hoped Danchou would stop spoiling her in this ridiculous notion, and stop treating her like a princess in a fairytale.
He glances at her tired face. She is obviously tired to the bones, shivering despite the fire and the blanket, but she stays up just to hear him ramble about a life long gone. She smiles softly, inclining her head to the side and suppressing a yawn.
"You tired?"
"Mon," she answers with a tiny smile. Feitan nods in encouragement, and that's all that she needs to speak more. "Khel—khetsu—draga," she says in her broken Toryuhun. Yes. Language. Pronunciation. Hard.
Despite himself, his eyes actually glitter with amusement. "Shu guui."
She smiles wider. "What does that mean?"
"Not bad."
"Will you teach me more?" She inches even closer, shoulder to shoulder. For one second, Feitan melts at the physical contact, comforted that she is not disgusted by him.
He lays the manuscript down on the carpet so both of them could see. She cranes her neck.
He points at a passage. "This," he starts. "Not a word."
She checks her handwriting and flushes in embarrassment. "I'm sorry!"
He bites back a smile and keeps tapping his finger on the word. "Rago," he corrects, "not raigo." He brings his hands together and forms an upward triangle. "Mountain," he translates.
"Rago," she copies his pronunciation, teasingly puffing her cheeks and puckering her lips. Feitan shakes his head and tries to hide his growing amusement. "Rago. Rago. Rago."
"Tch. Tinnu."
"You tinnu!" she retorts.
Suddenly, he speaks in very rapid Toryuhun that she could barely understand the words. He watches, the greatest sadist that he is, as she sputters and tries to catch up. He leans back on his arms and raises a dark eyebrow at her.
Defeated, she deflates and pouts. "Okay. What did you say?"
He rolls his eyes and taps the page. "What we do now? With this?"
"I was thinking we could edit all my mistakes, then get it bound. Make it a proper book."
"Edit?"
"Mm-hmm. Seems like I made so many mistakes in grammar and spelling." Her laugh is sheepish, but Fei certainly doesn't care all that much about them. Though she seems to care a lot.
"Fine." He should feel defeated, but he doesn't—not when Valtiel beams at him like this.
Is this what Chrollo feels? He cannot say no to her because of the way she beams with those golden eyes sparkling? Is this the reward for spoiling her? A very endearing smile and a burst of childish energy?
"Yay! You're the best, Fei-san!" She is brimming with excitement. "But don't tell Danchou I said that!"
"Sure."
"And when we're done, we could find a warmer place than this country. I think I'm gonna freeze here!"
She makes a show of shivering beneath the blanket, and he answers with another roll of his eyes. She decides that this is how Feitan expresses his annoyance to her now—not threatening her any longer.
"Okay." He shrugs, trying to seem uncaring. "Whatever."
Valtiel tries to stay up late to help him with editing, but no more than twenty minutes later, she is dozing off again, curled into a tiny ball by Feitan's legs. One hand keeps petting her head while the other scribbles all the edits, recollecting the words and the myths. He should feel tired, but he is not. In fact, he is all fired up.
By next afternoon, they agree to set off. He really wants to get them out of this miserable wintry country to somewhere warmer. He cannot stand her sneezing every two minutes with her eyes all glassy and nose all red. She looks quite ridiculous and it fucking pisses him off.
This new country, nine hours away from Tengri-gel, is a little warmer. At the very least, Valtiel resorts to a more comfortable beige coat, trimmed with fur at the collar and sleeves, a white scarf around her neck. Feitan ambles behind in his pitch-black leather overcoat.
She walks around the new small country like a woman with a purpose. She checks every small shop, every little stall, asking the men about their trade, chattering with the mothers and their children about this and that. Feitan watches everything a few steps behind her—he is only here to keep an eye on her, make sure she gets back to Danchou in one piece.
That, and to carry her shopping bags for her.
"Souvenirs for the children, you know," she says with a wink over her shoulder.
"Damn the children," he murmurs under his breath.
He receives a loud, dramatic gasp from her. He glares—he's pretty sure she picked that up from Hisoka.
She giggles at his reaction. "That's not a nice thing to say, Fei-san," she chides playfully.
The book publisher's office is at the very end of the street. Feitan follows at her heels, still looking left and right, making damned sure no suspicious individual is spying on them. Once inside, he already finds his companion chattering with the old man, proudly showing off the manuscript and smiling upon earning praise about the exquisite taste.
After two and a half days, the manuscript is now a proper book—the cover hardbound and illuminated with golden filigrees and swirling calligraphy. The publisher gives it to Valtiel with a silk red ribbon, and she hands it over to Feitan as her long-awaited gift.
"Why?" he asks, still uncomprehending. What did he do to deserve this kindness?
"It's for you," she says simply. "I made it for you."
Feitan nods quietly as he accepts the proffered gift. "Thank you."
Soon after that, they decide to return to Meteor City. Chrollo has generously given his permission for them to travel for a week, but after a mere few days together, they are back home.
The crowd seems larger this time around. Between the church and school, there are too many new faces and suspicious individuals lurking behind the crowd of excitable children and waving citizens. Feitan gives one last sweep of his suspicious dark glare before following Valtiel into the church.
She perks up upon seeing Shizuku exiting the kitchen with Healer Atara. "Oh, Shizu-chan!"
Shizuku blinks big, round eyes at her. "Back so soon, Val? I thought you'll be longer."
"I couldn't stay away from home even if I wished," Valtiel teased, peering over her friend's tray.
"We baked cookies for the children," Shizuku explains. She nods to the various animal-shaped cookies with chocolate chips and rainbow-colored sprinkles on top. "Taste one, Val."
As she is reaching out, the other Spiders burst out of the kitchen.
"That's not fair!" Nobunaga shrieks as Uvogin snatches his sleeve and pulls him backwards. "We asked for a taste first! But now you're giving one to Val!"
Shizuku turns to the distressed man, her voice never losing its cool. "You asked for three cookies," she points out. "We can't give away three cookies all at once. Best I could do is give you one and you can share half with Uvo."
Laughing at Nobunaga's pout, Valtiel takes one cookie—a giraffe—and breaks it in two. She offers the other half to Nobunaga.
His eyebrow arcs at the uneven portion. "Gee, thanks," and munches it all in one go. Then his eyes sparkle at the taste. "Damn, Shizuku, this is good! I didn't know you could bake!"
"Is it actually good?" Shizuku blinks again, unconvinced.
"One way to find out." Uvogin snatches two cookies from her tray and tosses one in Feitan's face. He hums as he eats. "This is officially the best cookie I've ever tasted!" he gushes, beaming at the dark-haired girl. "I'll never eat any other cookie than yours, Shizuku!"
There is a moment of brief silence—and horror. Nobunaga tries to keep it in, but miserably fails and collapses in a wail of laughter. Even Feitan is snickering, but the moment Valtiel gets that look in her face—that undeniably confused and innocent look—Feitan is forced to clear his throat like a grownup and shake his head at her.
Valtiel puffs her cheeks, indignant. "What does that mean?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "Never you mind."
"But Fei-san!"
"Maybe Danchou can explain later."
She whirls to the still-horrified Uvogin. "What does that mean, Uvo-san?"
Uvogin crams the heels of his palms to his eyes. "N-Nothing! It's nothing!"
Nobunaga is still laughing while Shizuku is brushing the accidental innuendo with nonchalant grace. Instead, she bows slightly and follows Healer Atara out of the church.
"Ah, that was good." Nobunaga sighs as he wipes the tears from his eyes. Uvogin shoots him a quick glare, and he grins back. "That was my best laugh for the next five years."
He turns to still-pouting Valtiel and laughs at her sulking. He pats her on the head. "You're too young for that, Val. Don't worry—Daddy Chrollo will explain things when you're older."
"I'm not a baby." She slaps his hand off her head. He takes it in stride, not offended or losing his patience. Just grinning back at her. "You always treat me like a child."
"Because you are." Uvogin grins.
"That be the truth," Feitan grumbles.
"Well—" She sighs, defeated by the three of them, and runs her fingers through her tangled hair. She speaks formally, as though trying to sound like a grownup. "I have work to do for the school. I shall leave you three respectable gentlemen while I take a shower and go about my business."
As Feitan is about to follow her, because that's what he is here for, she pauses and turns around for him. She smiles, he raises an eyebrow.
"You can stay here, Fei-san," she says, tone sweet but it is obviously an order.
"Good," he answers, smooth. "I no want to babysit you anymore."
With that, she disappears upstairs, towards the choir loft with its stained glass windows. The Spiders wait until her aura fades from their sharp senses. Nobunaga gives a little amused whistle and Uvogin sniggers at the smaller thief.
Feitan could feel his patience running thin. "What you laughing for?"
"She sounds and acts more like Danchou every day," Uvogin points out. "It's terrifying."
"You should have seen her during the mission," Nobunaga whispers, wary that somehow she would still hear them from across the church. "Scared the living daylights outta all of us."
"That so?" Somehow, Feitan is not surprised. Between the time he spent with her in the Leviathan to half a year later, he is not surprised that she made good progress with her Nen. He could tell the moment he arrived a few days ago that her Nen is more refined.
Upstairs, Valtiel changes into more comfortable clothes and brushes through the tangles. She purses her lips at the mess of books and newspapers that she and Danchou left before the mission. She clears up their little room, arranges the books, and puts away the newspapers. She fixes the bed and smooths the pillows. For the first time in months, she is truly alone, without Chrollo's consistent attention on her.
Sure, she has a myriad of Spiders downstairs—at her beck and call. But now, they have learned to keep to themselves, not to watch her every movement like hungry hawks. They could feel each other simply through aura and presence. She knows they're downstairs, lingering, and the Spiders know she's upstairs, feeling rather timid.
In the middle of her cleaning up the room, she comes upon a familiar maroon sketchpad. She doesn't remember leaving this here. Her eyebrows furrow as she sits on the edge of the bed, tracing the ragged name on the corner.
Fei—it reads. Terse. Unimportant.
Like before, she flips through the pages, heart clenching to see Feitan's sketches of the young Phantom Troupe members. Sunset. Black crows over the city. Rhanion in her bright palette and blue-white khervee flowers. Not one trace of Valtiel, despite being a childhood friend.
She snaps the book shut and waits.
Waits until sunset.
Meteor City looks best during sunsets, when the red-and-gold mingle with the barren beige color of the lands, giving it an ominous yet entrancing appearance. With the school framed in the horizon, the trash city seems more like a proper town, with more people coming and going, well-fed and well-read children, less knives and guns on sight.
Feitan is perched on the church's rooftop, right leg folded while the other is dangling over the ledge. He barely acknowledges her presence as she sits next to him.
"Nice school," he murmurs, nodding at the building across the church.
"Thank you." She checks at his face—bandana is down again, his face thoughtful. "How long will you stay here?"
"As long as Danchou wants."
"Hm." She nods, the wind stirring her hair. "Any plans afterwards?"
"Za ne ngayu." He glances at her face, and she smiles back. "I don't know," he translates.
The silence between them is comfortable enough. Feitan is never really that much of a talker, and it takes her a great effort to persuade him to speak. They watch as the children play in the field beneath them, or how the Elders also watch from the sidelines. A few crows have gathered overhead, cawing at each other, and Valtiel's fingers twitch, remembering the sensation of breaking their necks and wings, her aura dancing at her very fingertips.
Gathering her courage, she produces the sketchbook. "D'you remember this?"
He glances at the old thing and freezes. Carefully, he takes it from her and checks each page. Like with the Toryuhun manuscript, he takes his time observing every page, as if committing every single drawing to memory.
There are no words between them. In the back of his mind, Feitan knows what is running through her head.
For dinner, they have a modest meal of fried rice with fish and eggs, garnished with something that makes it smell so good. Despite having tables, they decide to make a big circle on the floor, Shizuku laying out the steaming meal. Uvogin opens an old crate of beer and hands them out like a generous Santa—but for Valtiel, he gets a glass of water from the kitchens.
"When will Danchou and the others return?" Nobunaga asks against his bowl.
"In two days," Shizuku answers, humming at the taste.
"So what should we do then?" Nobu moves to grab more fish, but Feitan beats him to it.
"I'm thinking of travelling east," says Uvogin, "after the school is settled."
"What do you mean?" Valtiel blinks at him. "It is settled now."
"Yeah, kiddo." He grins at her sudden sharpness. "But I don't do much. I'm itching to fight!"
"Ah." She steals the fish from Nobu's bowl with a quick blur of her chopsticks. The samurai opens his mouth to complain. She offers a small smile. "I understand, Uvo-san."
Frowning, Nobunaga settles with the eggs and chomps sulkily. Valtiel apologizes by giving more of the fish from her own bowl. The samurai beams at her, and nudges her with his shoulder. She nudges him back, and they return to their meal as the other Spiders speak of something else.
Valtiel helps Shizuku and the Elders with the dishes and the inventory of their rations. Without Chrollo and Shalnark, the responsibility falls on her shoulders, like many others in the city. She takes Elder Meinerth's notes and lists all the numbers and expenses. Once Danchou's group sells the weapons, they would have more funds and they wouldn't have to worry about the city's food in another few months.
Her grandfather approaches her with the rhythmic tapping of his cane. "You're doing really well, Val," he commends. He sinks on the wooden pew next to her with an old man's groan.
She gleams at him. "Isn't it too late for bed?"
Elder Ryence glances at the night skies. "Perhaps. But it's time for you to sleep, too." He reaches out and pats her hand. "You do too much for this city, little one. You're running yourself down with all these. You should rest. You should let the Troupe handle it."
"Oh, it's no trouble for me to help. Rather, I like keeping busy like this."
"You'll make a fine Elder one day."
"Grandpa!" she shrieks, teasing. "It's fifty years too early for that!"
"Aye." He chuckles with her. "Yet my statement still remains: you're doing well."
"Thank you." She squeezes his hand. A few heartbeats later, he goes off to sleep.
The church quietens, as if a mass would soon start. Instead of the bright fluorescent lights, the other staff light every candle in the church. Dozens are enough to engulf the entire place in a warm orange glow. The massive double doors are shut, the sick and the homeless taking refuge in the first floor infirmary and extra beds. The Spiders are all lodged upstairs, one room for each of them. Valtiel senses their relaxed auras, ready to retire for the night.
All of them, except one.
Feitan is back on the rooftop. There are candles burning here as well, flames flickering with the gentle breeze. He has one leg dangling over the edge again, as he leans back on one arm, staring up at the dark skies and few silver stars.
She leans her hips against the ledge, peering at his face. "Can't sleep?"
His hair stirs gently with the wind. At this very moment, he looks so soft and quiet. "You give me good gift," he says slowly in his stilted common language. "Now, I give you one."
He pushes the red sketchbook back to her.
Curious, she flips through the pages. Same sketches. Same young Troupe members. Same Rhanion. Then, after that, new drawings—the school under the sunset, Shizuku with Blinky, the lighthouse at Solomon Islands.
More towards the back, the older version of the Phantom Troupe members—Phinks tall and muscular, Machi with her pink hair and kunoichi outfit, Pakunoda with her shiny pistols. There is one of Chrollo himself: in his dark coat, raven hair hanging down to his chin, reading a book on his crumbling throne.
And then, in a bright palette—her breath hitches in her throat—is Valtiel herself.
She has the most drawings than any individual Spider.
She wears a tracksuit by the same beach where she learned Death Strike from Akamu. There is one with her in a furisode at the lighthouse, and then in her yellow jumpsuit in the Leviathan, blood smeared across her cheek and claws. There is a large spread showing their New Year's celebrations in Desara City.
Another one in the church's choir loft, the multi-colored stained glass above her creating a halo of rainbow as she works on the Toryuhun manuscript. The second to the last is her with Danchou: they are in some unknown garden, surrounded by flowers, with Chrollo offering her a single khervee flower.
The very last sketch is one that includes the entire Phantom Troupe members hanging around a base with beers and crates. All of them with the exception of Omokage and Hisoka. Even Yuan is there, and Valtiel is seated beside Chrollo.
Her vision swims from the unshed tears. The drawing becomes blurry, stained with pale scarlet, and she takes a deep breath to compose herself.
Never forget the Scarlet Eyes, Val.
It is the voice of her conscience, the old man who always speaks but offers no answers.
Once upon a time, after discovering her own Scarlet Eyes, she made much effort to uncover everything about the Kurta Clan. She had scoured over books and passages, borrowed the Hunter License of a Ruins Hunter back at the museum, read the newspaper articles about the massacre that happened almost three years ago. She found nothing.
When she remembered a few bits of the language—how 'pairo' means starlight—she thought that was a good start. She searched for more books or even dictionaries. She found nothing.
Suddenly, Danchou was there—and she couldn't continue her research. It all halted then, for fear that if she asked Chrollo, his answer was something she would not like.
When she found Feitan's sketchbook, she knew she doesn't belong in their story.
Nothing fits perfectly in her little world anymore.
And now, with nothing but the evening breeze and Feitan by her side, she is suddenly so afraid.
Where would she fit, if not with the Phantom Troupe? Where does she belong, if not in Meteor City with her grandfather? To ask these questions would warrant answers she is afraid to hear.
She belongs in Meteor City—she has built a school over her own determination and stubbornness. She has hundreds of children to educate and care for. She has more plans to keep them warm and fed and comfortable.
She belongs with the Phantom Troupe—she is friends with all of them now, despite their rough exteriors. She has learned so much and gained so much experience from them. Above all, she loves Chrollo Lucilfer. She is earnestly, passionately in love with him that she would never think of being anywhere else, but here, in their home.
The Kurta Clan is a dead end, Valtiel reminds herself, still admiring Feitan's exquisite artworks. Her heart could burst upon seeing herself in the drawings. Kurta Clan, Phantom Troupe—it doesn't matter anymore.
The wind blows one of the candles over. Feitan goes off to fix it.
I have a life with Danchou. I have a purpose here in Meteor City. The Kurta Clan is a dead end. No one else is alive to tell the tale, and there's no benefit in pursuing it.
Deep down, like an instinct long forgotten or a survivor's sharp intuition, Valtiel knows pursuing the long-dead clan would only bring heartbreak.
Feitan returns by her side, studying her solemn expression yet picking up on her aura teetering on the brink of a meltdown. Her emotions are unmasked, leeching into the very air.
She is dangerous—he understands now why Nobunaga and Uvogin were apprehensive earlier. He wouldn't have anticipated this for the world. He needs to protect the Spiders, then Valtiel—from herself.
"You're one of us," Feitan whispers, snapping her from her deep thoughts. He stares into her golden eyes, glassy from unshed tears, pale scarlet from the flickering flames—or perhaps from something else entirely.
"You're a Spider, Valtiel."
That's the last confirmation she needs to the final nail in the coffin.
Author's Notes: Voilà! FeiVal outta nowhere! Sorry, I just really love writing these two together. I just love writing grumpy Feitan in general and forcing him to interact with Val. It's the worst kind of torture for the Troupe's torturer. How the turn tables! *evil laugh*
Is this last part the part where Valtiel damns herself? Because I really think it is.
I've got a BIG surprise for everyone who managed to stay this long and have the patience to wait all this time! Thank you for all the kind words, support, and patience throughout the years! This fic wouldn't last long without you! Next chapter will be all for you, my friends! ❤️
*UrPrettyOne - When Danchou is a red flag but red is our favorite color. I will sell my soul for a chance to date Chrollo himself 😩 *crying with you*