Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
September 4th, YorkNew City, 5:44AM
Hisoka had been awoken in a rough and unpleasant manner many times, and in many different ways, but this morning he found a new contender for the rudest awakening of them all: being painfully pelted in the face with dirty pebbles by Nijiiro, who sat beside a still-sleeping Chrollo with a mischievous grin on her face. Fighting the immediate urge to throw something much larger and heavier back at her, he looked over to where she was pointing at her phone. He pulled out his own phone and opened the encoded text from Nijiiro that showed on the screen.
The script has changed. Our Golden Boy will star, after all.
--Shall I contact him?
Not yet. There is another scene to contend with. Wait for my cue.
--Another scene?
The Fortune-teller's entrance will demand some improvisation. Utilize your charm until the audience is satisfied.
--And if the plot is laid bare?
Say whatever you must, say as little as you can, and say it sternly. The best stories are half true.
--And if the fortunes prove correct?
All players have their strengths and weaknesses. The Fortune Teller's lines are forever subject to the interpretation of the moment.
--The Golden Boy's mask may slip, if the scene becomes too protracted.
Not if his 'contract' forbids it.
--Our antagonist is skilled in reading between the lines.
That is also his tragic flaw.
--And what is your tragic flaw?
Hedonism.
Hisoka couldn't help but chuckle softly at her final message. She still had a touch of that refreshing, unabashed honesty that had been so endearing when she was still small and cute. And she was surprisingly generous with him, so long as he did what she expected him to do, without hesitation. She could see straight through his lies, but never held them against him, even when he tried to deceive her anyway; what kept him so “loyal” was the fact that Nijiiro always made obeying her wishes far more attractive than crossing her. He looked up from his phone to see her grinning widely, brandishing both of her middle fingers at him from across the cavernous hall. He smiled and returned the salute. What a woman. He sent one more text before returning his phone to its pocket and pretending to sleep again.
-- /Same ♥
September 4th, 6:23AM
Chrollo opened his eyes slowly. Nijiiro was next to him, holding a hot cup of coffee from a percolator atop a single-burner propane stove, which she offered to him wordlessly. The other Spiders were all still asleep, having partied far later into the evening than Chrollo or Nijiiro. He waved away the coffee and stood, staring out at the weak, gray light of dawn trickling in through the dirty stained-glass windows. How long had it been since he'd dreamed of them? The two brothers who had died so long ago, he could barely remember their voices. So why did he feel them with him now? Baseless superstition was an indulgence a leader like himself couldn't afford, but still his intuition told him that this cloudy daybreak held something of profound personal significance.
“They say there's a huge storm brewing today,” Nijiiro said softly, as if on cue. Chrollo simply looked at her.
“They, your instincts?”
“They, the meteorologists at YorkShin Radio Advisory,” Nijiiro said, holding up a portable radio. She smiled. Chrollo wondered how often he overestimated her. He then wondered whether he could overestimate some one like her. He reached for the coffee cup, and once he had taken a sip of the hot brew, exactly as he liked it - black with a single cube of sugar at the very bottom, unstirred – and and sighed contentedly, Nijiiro at last poured herself a cup of black coffee and took a sip. Nijiiro, for her part, was merely wondering how he could always tell the difference between cubed sugar and loose crystals in the exact same amount, especially when they were half-dissolved at the bottom of a coffee cup. Spooky, that.
“When will the rest of them come around?” said Chrollo, gazing down at the other Spiders as they slept. Nijiiro slid off her veil and examined their auras closely.
“None of them will be in fighting shape before noon, most likely,” she replied. She turned to him, seeing that his aura was more subdued than usual. Ah, but it was still as beautiful as ever. The color was one of dozens for which Nijiiro had no name, but it was perfect, too perfect to be real. It was an impossible shade between jet black and deep midnight blue, one that didn't exist as far as the human eye was concerned. A single, smooth, whole, absolutely consistent, color, the color of sunlight glinting off the scales of a black snake as it strikes, the color of cold, impending danger. The color of the vast black emptiness of outer space and bottomless pits. The hypnotic effect it had on Nijiiro could not be overstated. She forced herself to turn away, sliding her veil over her eyes once more. What was causing his melancholy? “You seem...troubled, Sama' Allayl,” she said politely. He said nothing. “I came to YorkNew in person, that I might be more effective, my Sky...” she tried again, “if there is something I can do...”
“What shall we do until they wake up?” Chrollo muttered, ignoring Nijiiro's stumbling offer.
“Ah, well... How about...breakfast?” she replied. He turned his head to her and smiled then, a real smile that made Nijiiro wonder if she was finally having a heart attack at the ripe old age of nineteen. Her face was certainly red enough.
“Of course,” he said simply. He held out his hand to her.
Across the half-lit stone room, Hisoka cracked open one golden eye, just wide enough to see Chrollo and Nijiiro walking out of the hideout, arm in arm, Nijiiro talking cheerfully and smiling as Chrollo listened calmly and matched his pace to hers. He thought of her eyes on the night she'd climbed on top of him, the fiery determination that glittered there, and then...his mind wandered to the lovesick puppy eyes that had shined at prince-charming Chrollo as they danced through Nijiiro's illusion last night. He knew from experience that if there was one thing that would destroy her so-called escape plan, it was Nijiiro herself, and if there was one thing that could cause her to destroy it, it was twenty-four solid hours of Chrollo. He realized his faith in her was waning, and his patience wearing thin. But was there anything he could do about it, really? He decided there was no reason to rock the boat, at least until she tried to back out. No, that wasn't good either. If he tried to do things his way, he might never get his chance at Chrollo. After all, he hadn't managed to find a way on his own. Was he stupid to believe she'd really let him try to kill her beloved man? Probably. But why would she lie? She never lied, per sei, but did she say that was the case? Hisoka tried to remember her exact words when she promised him his chance. 'You will never have a better chance,' she'd said with a wicked smile. 'What did that mean, Nijii-chan?' he wondered silently. He mused for a while, his eyes closed, not entirely aware of the time that passed, until his thoughts were interrupted by the return of Chrollo and Nijiiro. His phone said it was nearly noon. It also had a text message from Nijiiro he hadn't seen yet.
'He that can have patience can have what he will.' it said.
She had sent it five and a half hours ago, that witch.
He looked down at the two of them. Chrollo had a canvas bag that seemed to contain a lot of heavy books, Nijiiro had a large transparent plastic bag with what appeared to be three dozen donuts from a bakery chain downtown. He watched as they set their burdens on the floor, and Nijiiro said something before winking at Chrollo and cracking open one of the hundred packing crates that filled the stone floor. Hisoka struggled to feign sleep instead of laughing hysterically, as she produced a huge ancient brass gong and mallet, set it in the middle of the sleeping Spiders, and proceeded to bang it loudly with a malevolent grin on her face until the echoes of it brought dust and concrete shards falling from every crevice in the broken ceiling. The look on Machi's face, however, was eventually enough to make him giggle out loud.
“You goddamned-” Machi began, holding her head, but stopped short and turned rather pale at the expression on Chrollo's face as he turned to look at her. Chrollo ascended to the second-floor mezzanine, and Nijiiro followed him.
“Everyone, please gather around, I have an announcement to make,” Chrollo said matter-of-factly, an order to which all of the Spiders instantly complied despite the painful ringing in their heads. Nijiiro stood slightly behind him, smiling faintly. Her lipstick was a bright shade of plum today, her shining hair brushed and set carefully. Her veil was white lace and tulle, with velvet ribbons that matched her lipstick a little too well. Her hand-embroidered black stingray leather coat was immaculate, with nary a trace of the blood that had soaked it through the night before. Hisoka was the only one present who could see her gloved fingers twirl at her side, in a type of sign language that she had forced him to learn nearly four years ago now.
“Proceed with caution,” they said.
“The Spiders will take what's left of the mafia treasure at the auction this evening. Any treasure that remains after that will have to be abandoned. We're leaving YorkNew before midnight tonight,” Chrollo stated, in the subdued tone he generally used when issuing orders.
“What do you mean, we're leaving?” Nobunaga said slowly, not sure he'd heard correctly. He'd heard what Chrollo said all right...but what he hadn't said was bothering him immensely.
“I meant exactly as I said,” Chrollo said calmly, looking down at Nobunaga. He could hear the challenge in Nobunaga's voice, and knew it wouldn't end there. But there was an order to these things. He couldn't sic Nijiiro on a Ryodan member, at least not until the insubordination they committed became clearly defined. “We're leaving tonight. We'll take the rest of the treasure, and then we leave tonight... That will be the end.” Hisoka looked at Nijiiro, seated just behind Chrollo, and smiled. She had a pair of headphones on, and was silently banging away on an imaginary drumset. Of course, she was actually listening to Gon and Killua invite Kurapika to join him in D-Road Park, and then back to the hotel room to meet some one named Leorio, another apparent comrade of theirs, but no one else needed to know that. Nijiiro could feel the barometric pressure dropping as Nobunaga glared at Chrollo's passive face. She didn't need to hear anything to understand what was being said; her ability to read lips told her everything she needed to know, and that it was all going more or less as she imagined it would.
“No... It isn't.” Nobunaga answered.
“What else is there?” said Chrollo mildly, knowing damned what else there was.
“We have to find the chain user.”
“You seem obsessed,” Chrollo offered, as if commenting on the weather.
“Yeah, sure, I am. We're gonna scatter without even avenging Uvo's death? Uvo will be bored in the next life, if we don't send the chain-user to join him,” Nobunaga said darkly, his tone becoming a growl as he spoke.
“Cut it out, Nobunaga. The Boss has given his orders already,” Franklin said.
“Yeah,” said Nobunaga, his irritation rising, “and an order from the Boss is absolute. But is that really an order from our Boss, Chrollo?” Nijiiro saw Nobunaga's left hand tilt his sword's sheath ever so slightly forward, his weight shift on the balls of his feet. Nobunaga was serious. Nijiiro sat on the edge of the mezzanine and let her legs dangle over. She cocked her head at Nobunaga, who didn't bat an eyelash or look away from Chrollo's face for a second. The other Spiders were all silent, having recognized Nijiiro's I-don't-want-to-punish-you-but-I-will-if-I-have-to face, and having quickly decided to stay out of it.
“Nobunaga-” Franklin began, wishing Nobunaga would look a little to the left of Chrollo, for his own safety.
“Shut it! I'm asking Chrollo here!” Nobunaga shouted. Chrollo pondered for a moment, looking from Nobunaga to Nijiiro and back again. Having her punish him would be easy enough, too easy, in fact. But as he looked at Nijiiro, he wondered if perhaps a lighter touch would be more effective, after all. Settling on a course of action, he jumped down to where Nobunaga was standing, and strode forward in the least threatening manner possible.
“Nobunaga... Before I answer your question, I need you to answer one of mine,” said Chrollo.
“Huh?”
“What's your date of birth?” Chrollo asked. Nobunaga was nonplussed.
“September 8th of '70,” said Nobunaga, wondering whether Chrollo was simply stalling him or if he had really lost his marbles.
“Blood type?” Chrollo asked again.
“It's...B...” answered Nobunaga, his anger giving way to curiosity.
“And your name?” Chrollo asked.
“Nobunaga Hazama...You already knew that! The hell is this about? What else do you want?!”
“That's enough. Write that down on this paper,” replied Chrollo, holding out a pen and a piece of stationery he'd picked up earlier that morning.
“Christ, why the fuck didn't you just say that to begin with?” Nobunaga complained, snatching the paper out of Chrollo's hand, but doing as he was asked. 'Ah, I see...' thought Nijiiro, 'he's using Nobunaga to gather more information about this week and next, to see what course of action to take. Too bad, though. I have a lot more experience with this power than you, my Sky. It is sensitive to intention, not causality. The prophecy will change with the mind of the one it prophesies. You might suspect this, though, and so you'll try to round out your decision with a number of prophecies on all of the Spiders here. And that is why...my vision will come true in the end. Too many facts can confuse as surely as too few...'
Chrollo sat on a crate, with another crate before him as a makeshift table, and brought out the Nostrade girl's Nen ability, Lovely Ghost Writer, which, as it turned out, wasn't lovely in the least. Nijiiro made a face. That hideous thing was what had caused her so much grief? But as she looked at the transparent green booger with wings that moved Chrollo's hand, she missed her opportunity to obfuscate the prophecy it created. Whoops.
“What is this?” Nobunaga said quizzically, reaching for the paper that Chrollo offered him. Chrollo found that using the Nostrade girl's ability was surprisingly tiring.
“A one hundred percent accurate fortune, written in verse,” Chrollo replied, “The ability to see the future. I stole this power from Nostrade's daughter.”
“One hundred percent accurate?” Nobunaga said, a little mystified. As if Chrollo wasn't formidable enough. Now he could see the future.
“Each of the four verses predicts what will happen in that week.”
Nobunaga looked over his fortune, and read:
The calendar loses a precious component.
The remaining months gather to mourn.
The first moon, having missed his opportunity,
continues to pursue the eleventh month alone.
The chrysanthemum withers and falls, leaves and all.
It lies on the ground beside the Scarlet(bloody) Eyes.
But the Spider does not stop,
Even after losing half its limbs.
“This is the fortune that Neon Nostrade gave me yesterday,” Chrollo said, offering up his own fortune for comparison.
“So this 'precious component' refers to...” Nobunaga trailed off and Chrollo nodded.
“Uvo,” he said. “That girl didn't know anything about Uvo. In other words, she predicted the attack on the mafia auction. And she had fans among the Ten Dons.” 'And so, when you realized that there was a team of assassins after you at the Cemetery Building, you assumed she had warned the Dons of your plan to annihilate the mafia, and you had Illumi Zoldyck kill the Ten Dons...Clever move,' thought Nijiiro. Pretending to turn her music off, she took three seconds to send a text to Hisoka; she was fairly certain of the outcome, but still eager to test her hypothesis.
“That explains why the merchandise had been moved the first time we attacked,” said Franklin.
“What does Nobunaga's fortune say?” asked Shizuku.
“My hand moves on its own,” explained Chrollo, “I don't know what was written. You'll have to ask Nobunaga.”
“Well, Nobunaga?” Shizuku said, turning to Nobunaga expectantly. Nobunaga tried his best to parse the poem, but the literary arts had never exactly been his strong suit.
“Next week, five or six of us will probably die,” he said, after struggling for a minute.
“Which five?” asked Franklin.
“Dunno. I can't interpret this,” said Nobunaga, “but this part of the second verse, about the Spider losing half its limbs, I kind of get that line. It means half of us are going to die. I can't say whether that means half of twelve, or fourteen, but counting Uvo, at least half of us are going to die, so that means at least five more.”
“The Spider would be us, right?” asked Phinks.
“Yeah.” said Nobunaga.
“The same line was in my fortune,” said Chrollo.
“Let me see,” said Shizuku. She beckoned for the paper in Nobunaga's hand. “Boss, can you tell my fortune, please?” she asked, reading over Nobunaga's fortune. Hisoka, having read the text, looked over to Shizuku and smiled. Chrollo obligingly brought out Lovely Ghost Writer for a second time, and Shizuku received a very different fortune:
The calendar loses a precious component.
The remaining months gather to mourn.
You join your ally as an offering,
To keep him from being lonely.
You will find your eternal rest in a room with black merchandise,
Beware solitude above all,
You have the most to fear
When you are alone with another.
“That proves it. I'm going to die next week,” Shizuku said, her voice surprisingly nonchalant.
“Seriously?” said Franklin, hoping that fortune could be proven otherwise. Of all his fellow Spiders, he found Shizuku to be the least quarrelsome, and he appreciated her for that.
“Yep. I only got two verses, see? And Pakunoda and Shalnark are going to die as well,” she continued, her tone casual. Nijiiro stopped herself from smiling a smile that would've been very out of place just then. Her experiment had proved successful. 'By telling Hisoka to kill Shizuku right now, the first verse implies that she, like Uvo, will be a sacrificial offering to my escape. And if he does it after midnight, her death appears in the second verse. Excellent,' mused Nijiiro. 'I'm sure he got the hint...ah...but now he's actually going to kill her, isn't he...?'
“What makes you say that?” asked Nobunaga.
“It seems the numbered months here refer to the Ryodan members,” Shizuku said.
“But...Aren't there only twelve months in a year...? Our numbers go to thirteen,” Phinks said, confused.
“Well....maybe not...The Unified World Calendar, which is based on lunar cycles, has thirteen months of twenty-eight days each, with another day for the vernal equinox,” said Shalnark.
“Ah, that makes sense. The poem refers to us as 'moons,' right?” said Shizuku, “And it would explain the second line here, 'the remaining months gather to mourn.' Saisho is the only one who wasn't with us before the week started, but she came after Uvo died.” The other Spiders stole a glance at their Saisho, who had crossed her legs and was smiling gently down at them from the second floor mezzanine. They quickly looked away.
“November is the eleventh month. Uvo was number eleven,” said Shizuku.
“Exactly,” said Chrollo, picking up the thread of deduction, “and the the chrysanthemum is the flower of September, the ninth month...It blooms in August, the eighth month...it withers in June, the sixth month. Since the word 'falling' is used, it can be taken to mean death.”
“I'm not sure who the 'Scarlet Eyes' refers to,”said Shizuku.
“I know it isn't one of us,” Phinks said, “It's probably the chain-user.”
“Scarlet Eyes...I remember now...” Pakunoda began slowly, “The clan whose eyes turned red...”
“Then, there was a survivor?” Feitan said doubtfully.
“So it seems,” said Shalnark.
“Will he also die?” asked Kortopi, looking at Chrollo.
“It could just mean he's covered in blood,” said Phinks, liking this conversation less and less.
“Nobunaga... this means we'll suffer serious casualties if we fight the chain-user,” Shalnark concluded, turning to his fellow Spider with a serious look. “We'll lose half our members. And while you and I can easily be replaced...Shizuku and Paku have rare powers. The Ryodan can't afford to lose them!” Nobunaga frowned even harder. Wasn't there a way he could at least avenge Uvo on his own?
“Today is Saturday of the first week,” Chrollo added, staring directly at Nobunaga, “If we return home today, we won't run into the chain user next week. The advantage of being able to predict the future, is that we can avoid undesirable prophecies. But if we leave without fighting the chain-user, this prophecy is one-hundred percent guaranteed not to come true. Nobunaga... You and Uvo were the Ryodan's main attack force; to die is simply part of the job. I believe you both chose that role voluntarily. Shizuku, Paku, and Shal collect intelligence...They provide us support. In the field, you could say that they're our lifeline. Is it not your job to serve as their shield?” Nijiiro now had a clear sense of how Neon's power could be used to her advantage. While Chrollo's eyes were imploring Nobunaga away from his selfish desire for revenge, Hisoka's eyes were directed at Nijiiro's right hand, a hand that she now lifted in a motion resembling pulling cotton candy from the air – the ubiquitous gesture of stage performers that meant keep going, play for more time. Hisoka knew it well. And everything was going as Nijiiro had predicted earlier that morning, her hints laying out a path for him that would give him the power to sway Chrollo's course of action and leave the Spiders at his mercy. Who the hell needed prophecy when Fate was on your side? He unlocked his cell and found his conversation with Kurapika. 'The dead bodies were fakes,' he typed into his messenger, but didn't send it. Wait for my cue, Nijiiro had said. And so he would.
“Yeah, it is,” Nobunaga admitted begrudgingly, glancing over at Shal, Paku, and Shizuku. As if he could say anything else with all three of them staring at him!
“Wait!” Hisoka said suddenly, jumping down from his perch in the windowsill, “You should tell some of the other members' fortunes... We might gather additional clues for avoiding the prophecies.” Chrollo stared at him for the space of a heartbeat. For Hisoka, this was both uncharacteristically helpful, and an idea that made far too much sense. But more than that...avoiding the prophecy also meant avoiding a fight. Chrollo turned to Nijiiro, who simply shrugged, as if to say 'why not?'
“Of course,” Chrollo said.
One after another, he wrote prophecies for not only Hisoka, but every member of the Ryodan, save for Phinks and Kortopi, who didn't know their blood type, Feitan, who didn't know his birthday, and Nijiiro, who seemingly had neither. Hisoka read over his fortune carefully, and was pleased with what he read:
A red-eyed customer will visit your shop,
Half angel, half death-bringer,
You would do well to sell the calendar's secrets.
He will be very pleased to learn the eleventh moon's secret.
The customer will return on a hot day,
Leaving you alone with the man who bears St. Peter's cross.
The false fourth moon will be torn from the calendar.
And only six pages will remain.
“What does your fortune say?” demanded Pakunoda, interrupting Hisoka's gleeful reverie. She held out an impatient hand. Hisoka took a moment, deciding what he'd reveal and what he'd hide. Covering for Nijiiro was a given, so what else might earn him some alone time with the 'man who bears St. Peter's cross?' A Texture Surprise was in order.
“I wouldn't recommend reading it,” Hisoka said, feigning reluctance, “it might come as a nasty shock...”
“Whatever, just hand it over,” Paku said. She reserved no patience whatsoever for Hisoka and his...eccentricities. Snatching the paper from Hisoka's hand, she read it for a moment, before hurrying to where the rest of the Spiders were gathered, trying to discern their fortunes. Paku distracted the others well enough that none of them saw Nijiiro's lift one hand into the air, to spell out two simple words:
'Tell him.'
Hisoka slid his hand carefully into his pocket, pretending to reach for a deck of playing cards. What he really sought to do, of course, was tap the 'send' button of his phone, relaying the crucial message he'd typed earlier to Kurapika. Hisoka withdrew the playing cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them aimlessly, doing his best to look concerned in spite of his overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
“Everyone! Look at this!” Paku snapped, and the others gathered around to read the fortune in her hands:
A red-eyed customer will visit your shop,
Seeking to make a trade.
The customer will use the sword of law upon you,
Taking the calender's secrets with him
The eleven-legged Spider grows homesick,
Losing another five of its legs.
Do not leave your temporary shelter,
Even as the Spider's 'vision' is forever lost.
“Hisoka... Did you sell him out?! UVO!!” Nobunaga howled, brandishing his sword at Hisoka, who looked over to Nijiiro, or rather, her right hand. Good work, it said. “I'll take that as a yes,” said Nobunaga, charging forward to relieve Hisoka's shoulders of his wretched head.
“Nobunaga, wait!” Shalnark shouted, placing himself between Hisoka and Nobunaga's blade. Franklin joined Shalnark, his large frame blocking Nobunaga's line of sight to where Hisoka sat, continuing to passively draw cards from his deck without acknowledging Nobunaga's threat in the least.
“Outta the way!” Nobunaga yelled, obviously not in the mood for a coin toss.
“Wait a minute,” said Franklin, ever the pragmatist, “Let's hear his explanation first.”
“Explanation?! What the fuck needs explaining?!” Nobunaga barked, gripping his sword.
“Just calm down!” Shalnark countered, with the full understanding that once a fight with Hisoka began, it didn't end until some one died. And Shalnark wouldn't bet in Nobunaga's favor. “Didn't the Boss just tell us that prophecies can be avoided, depending on our actions?”
“Hisoka!” Franklin said, thinking much of the same thing as Shalnark, “Explain what happened this week!”
“Can't say,” Hisoka replied indolently, seeming to reject the grace extended to him by Shalnark and the others.
“What the fuck?!” Nobunaga replied, in equal parts ire and incredulity.
“I can't say. All I can say, is that the first verse is true. Nothing more,” Hisoka replied calmly. Too calmly.
“You hear that?! Now move!” Nobunaga said again.
“Just hold on,” Franklin said, not quite ready to see Nobunaga try to fight, or rather lose to, Hisoka.
“Hisoka, why can't you explain yourself?” Shalnark tried again, sensing that something was amiss.
“To say why I cannot explain, would be to say what it is that I cannot say,” Hisoka retorted. “Thus, I cannot say. It isn't that I will not, it is that I cannot. And that's all I can let you know. If you can't accept my answer, then, in order to defend myself...I'll have no choice but to fight.” Nijiiro had to stifle a surprised giggle at the seriousness with which he delivered this last line, because she happened to know that the only pleasure for Hisoka that existed in this mortal plain beyond forcing another to fight, was being forced to fight himself. Indeed, at that very moment, Hisoka's gratuitously sized appendage was twitching anxiously inside his pants, despite his stoic expression. He held out two cards, as if to take on Nobunaga in earnest self-defense.
“Forget it, I just can't deal with you...” Nobunaga said, turning away and sheathing his sword. It was then that Franklin and Shalnark made the mistake of lowering their arms, creating a hole in the guard between Nobunaga and Hisoka. “...the Hell I would say THAT!” Nobunaga howled, pivoting on one leg and doubling back toward Hisoka at full speed. Nobunaga launched himself at Hisoka one moment, and the next found himself thirty meters away, slashing his sword at empty space on the mezzanine. And to his dismay, Nijiiro was standing directly behind him, looking unamused. He immediately sheathed his sword and swallowed hard.
“Nobunaga,” said Chrollo, “...be quiet for a second.”
“Did...the Boss do that?” Phinks muttered to Machi, who was standing only an arm's length closer to the Boss than he.
“Probably,” answered Machi, not wanting to admit that it was almost certainly Nijiiro's mysterious powers that had moved Nobunaga in an instant.
“Hisoka,” continued Chrollo in a low and carefully measured tone, “I have a few questions for you. If you're unable to answer, just say so... In the fortune, what are 'the calender's secrets?'”
“The abilities of the Ryodan members,” said Hisoka.
“Of how many members?”
“Seven...Or, no, eight. The Boss, and Uvogin, Shizuku, Machi, Franklin, Pakunoda, Shalnark, and I add up to eight.”
“So, until yesterday, you knew nothing of Kortopi's ability?”
“That is correct.”
“What is our opponent's power?”
“I cannot say.”
“What of his outward appearance?”
“I cannot say.”
“What is your relationship to him?”
“I cannot say.”
“I understand now,” Chrollo said, closing his eyes. The rest of the Ryodan waited for him to explain what was going on. “The red-eyed customer in the fortune, has two abilities, at the very least,” he said slowly, “The first being the one he used to subdue and control Uvogin, and the second being the one he has used to limit Hisoka's speech. Since the fortune uses the phrase 'sword of law', we can assume that the 'law' must compel one to obey a set of rules, for example, 'do not lie to me,' or 'do not tell anyone any information about me'. I would further venture that he has placed something in Hisoka's body, possibly as some kind of threat. The first half of Hisoka's fortune mentioned a trade, but the second half only described what the customer took. This would suggest that the 'sword of law' would attack Hisoka, unless he traded secrets. In other words, Hisoka traded the sword's attack for the secrets of the Ryodan members. And the sword that can restrict Hisoka's speech is powerful indeed.” Hisoka began salivating so much that he had to swallow and lick his lips, his cock twitching in his pants. Two long, torturous years of denial were finally at an end, and he knew at that moment that Chrollo had to be broken by him. He simply couldn't bear any other outcome.
“So what we already know about the chain-user, is that he's either a conjurer who used Nen chains to defeat Uvo, or a manipulator using real chains...” Shalnark said. Nijiiro could see the gears in his head turning, and for a moment worried whether he might capture some important detail, some angle she had missed. Shalnark had the best analytical abilities in the Ryodan next to her own, and on rare occasions had surpassed her in his skill for parsing fine details.
“Is there a difference?” asked Shizuku. Nijiiro sighed. 'Shizuku...you are a conjurer, you should know the difference better than anyone...” she thought. It was moments like this that she missed the original number eight.
“A big difference,” said Shalnark, “A conjurer might walk around unarmed. That's a major advantage...The problem is the power that is restricting Hisoka. Since it's the 'sword of law' it involves a set of rules that he has to follow. The rules are probably something like what the Boss mentioned, and also a rule that prevents Hisoka from attacking the chain-user as well. And he'll die if he breaks those rules. That's what I would do, anyway...”
“Boss,” said Shizuku, turning back to Chrollo, “What about this second verse? 'The eleven-legged Spider grows homesick, losing five more legs, do not leave your temporary shelter, even as the Spider's vision is forever lost...”
“If he leaves this base, that is, our 'temporary shelter', then Hisoka will die,” Shalnark said, sparing Chrollo the additional explanation. Of course, Chrollo wasn't even listening, having begun to contemplate the last line of the false fortune ahead of the rest with a stony expression.
“But what does 'homesick' mean?” said Phinks.
“It refers to our desire to return home,” said Machi.
“Oh, I get it,” said Phinks, ever the scholar. “If we try to go home, then half of us will still die, as well?”
“Uvo, Hisoka, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Shizuku...” said Feitan, counting on his fingers, “ one more would make half, was there anyone else whose fortune predicted their death?”
“Well, it would have to be you, me, or Kortopi, right?” Phinks replied, one scant eyebrow raised. They looked at Chrollo, who hadn't said anything for several minutes.
“...No...” said Chrollo, very quietly. Nijiiro could see the unrest in his aura, and it was hard to look at. She turned her eyes to the ceiling, watching the rain spatter on the broken shards of stained glass skylights.
“Huh?” said Phinks, not sure what the Boss was refuting.
“The last line...of Hisoka's fortune...” Chrollo said hesitantly, not wanting to speak his thoughts into being.
“Ah...this...” Paku said, reading over the fortune one more time, “'Even as the Spider's 'vision' is forever lost'... I don't really get it...”
“A Spider with unique visual prowess. A Spider who is credited with the conception, or vision, of the Gennei Ryodan...A Spider who foresees our actions and is responsible for bringing them to bear...No matter how we interpret that line, it can only refer to one person that could be forever lost...” Chrollo stated darkly, and the unhappiness on his face was unmistakable. The Spiders turned in unison to look at Nijiiro, who was standing almost beneath a shattered skylight, hair and coat fluttering softly in the wind of the storm, with one gloved hand out to the rain as she watched it fall into her palm and explode into thousands of tiny prisms which refracted the multicolored light of the stained glass. Lightning crashed overhead and she turned back to them, her eyes unveiled, two unearthly rainbows that shimmered under their own chilling light.
“Saisho...” Shalnark gasped. Nijiiro smiled slightly. He realized that she had probably parsed the entire fortune of every member as soon as it was written, and had simply waited patiently for them to come to a consensus, another thing she had likely anticipated in its entirety. She looked down at Chrollo, her hands clasped behind her. 'You needn't pretend to think about it, my Sky,' she thought, looking over his tense back. 'You won't take the road that implies I will be sacrificed, no matter what else the fortunes say. Even though you suspect that Hisoka is lying, you won't take the chance. Your mental state is frayed at the mere suggestion that I would be taken from you by a hostile force. Your leadership isn't selfless as you want to believe, is it? It never has been.'
“I will be staying here,” said Hisoka, breaking the tension. “I have something to do before I die; therefore, I will not be leaving my 'temporary shelter.'” 'Now there's a lie if I've ever heard one,' Nijiiro thought at him, suppressing a snort of disbelief. That damned wastrel had never had a single ambition in all his twenty-nine years.
“Boss what should we do? Leave, or stay?” asked Shalnark. All eyes were now on Chrollo. He felt exhausted from using Neon's powers so many times in a row, and the weight of their stares became...uncomfortable.
“Stay.”
September 4th, 12:23PM
“Why...Why would you tell us something so important?!” Killua shouted, rising up from his seat on the sofa. He glared at Kurapika.
“Why, indeed...?” Kurapika muttered, looking at the floor, “With their leader's death, I must have relaxed a bit...” He continued staring at the carpet to avoid Killua's accusatory cerulean stare.
“It'll be fine if we just keep a lid on it, right?” Leorio offered, not quite understanding the urgency in Killua's tone.
“No...it's too dangerous. I think...the leader isn't really the leader, or maybe... I don't know... But there's a 'founder' and a leader, and they're two different people. Anyway, that one has some terrifying power that affects your senses, and I can't really begin to guess how it works. And another one of the surviving members has the ability to read memories. If they find this out, Kurapika won't be able to beat them!”
“But they didn't learn anything last time..?” Gon said hesitantly.
“That's because we didn't realize that Kurapika was the 'chain-user' they were talking about... But now that we know...” Killua trailed off, looking at Kurapika intently.
“We'll just have to stay away from them, then,” Leorio said simply. “They already checked you, so they think you're clean.”
“The founder...she guessed my name just by looking at me. Her eyes...have some weird power in them. There's also a guy named Nobunaga,” Killua went on, the nagging feeling of danger growing stronger with every word he said. His instincts told him this wasn't over, not by a long shot. “He's especially dangerous. He's still out there, looking for Kurapika, and he's also trying to hunt us down.”
“But is he aware that you two know Kurapika?” Leorio asked mildly.
“Well, no...” Killua answered slowly.
“Then it's okay!” Leorio said, smiling brightly. “As long as no one around the mind readers knows Kurapika, then you're safe.”
“Well, actually, I've also...been in contact with Hisoka...” Kurapika said, to the horror of everyone present.
“Wha- Hisoka?!” said Leorio, leaning away from Kurapika suddenly, as if Hisoka might be hiding in his shadow.
“Hisoka? Really?” Gon said, leaning toward Kurapika eagerly, as if Hisoka might be hiding in his shadow.
“He knows, that I am the chain user... We had made a pact. But now that his target, the leader of the Spiders, is dead, I don't know what he'll do...” Kurapika finished. He didn't think Hisoka would do anything to get him killed on purpose, but there was always the off chance that Hisoka would change his mind. Actually, there was an excellent chance that Hisoka would change his mind.
“What should we do?” asked Killua, as rain began to patter against the windows of the hotel room. “Now that we know Kurapika's secret, it's dangerous to wait around. If Nobunaga captures either Gon or me again, we probably won't be able to escape. But now, we have you with us, Kurapika. We should take them out now, before they have a chance to recover and escape! We know where their current base is. But, if we wait too long, they could get away. We have to move quickly.” Killua looked at Gon, who seemed to be weighing the merits of Killua's argument, but would probably still have the same opinion as when he began speaking. Which was fine, of course; as long as Killua could get Kurapika to agree to a plan of action, Gon would certainly give it his all. What bothered Killua was the look of pure hesitation on Kurapika's face as he listened taciturnly to what Killua said. “They could be making an escape as we speak,” Killua pressed on, looking for any kind of reaction from the silent Kurapika. “We don't have too much time for thought...”
“The woman you mentioned is certainly a threat...But since their leader is dead, I'll do as Gon says, and focus on recovering the eyes of my brethren,” Kurapika said, looking at Gon's relieved face and smiling slightly.
“Are you serious?!” Killua said, not quite believing his ears. It was too illogical, especially for Kurapika.
“Yeah,” Kurapika said simply.
“Are you sure about this?” Killua tried again. Gon and Kurapika...were both abandoning their objectives in YorkNew City, and Killua couldn't understand why he was fighting them over it. He didn't even technically have an objective of his own...it was all too capricious.
“Kurapika's made up his mind!” chimed in Leorio, sounding weirdly like a proud uncle, “We can't force him to change it.” 'I don't believe this,' thought Killua. Abandoning a target went against every fibre of his being. 'Choosing to pursue a target, or not, on nothing but a whim, an emotion...this must be the prerogative of 'normal' people, huh...?' It would certainly take some getting used to.
“I'm sorry, Killua,” said Kurapika, sensing Killua's distress. “Thank you, for valuable information.” Killua looked into Kurapika's warm brown eyes, and the sincerity there was undeniable. He sat back on the sofa and sighed. 'Just wait until their Saisho lights you on fire, you insufferable optimist,' he thought, looking pointedly away. And...hadn't there been something after that? Killua bit his lip, hoping he wasn't blushing in front of the others. The fewer people that knew about that, the better. The sound of Kurapika's phone mercifully interrupted his recollections.
“It's from Hisoka,” said Kurapika, before falling silent for nearly half a minute. Killua realized with a start that he wasn't even breathing.
“...Kurapika?” Gon said carefully. Something about the air around Kurapika was suddenly hotter, denser, and far more dangerous. Lightning crashed outside the window, and Kurapika looked up from the screen of his mobile phone, his eyes glowing a more fiery crimson than Killua and the others had ever seen.
“The corpses were fake!” Kurapika hissed, his aura spiking around him.
“What?!” Leorio said emphatically, “You mean the dead bodies of the Ryodan members?!”
“Yes...The dead Spiders were fakes!” Kurapika said, his eyes wide with revulsion, “It would certainly be possible, for a conjurer to accomplish that...Fuck! Why didn't I think of this sooner?!”
“The situation has changed,” Killua said solemnly. “...Now what? We're here to help.”
“Uh-huh,” Gon agreed. Leorio simply nodded his assent. Kurapika's phone rang yet again, and Kurapika fought to answer it properly when his instinct told him to snap it in half.
“Hello?” Kurapika answered.
“Kurapika? It's me,” said a voice on the other line.
“Senritsu? What is it?”
“The Community has called off the hunt for the remaining Ryodan members,” she said hesitantly. Kurapika realized she could probably hear his agitation. He suddenly wished he had snapped the damned phone in half.
“What?!” he bristled at the receiver.
“We learned that they came from Meteor City,” Senritsu explained, hoping Kurapika would understand. He did, and the implication wasn't good.
“The Ryodan comes from Meteor City?”
“The Ten Dons gave the order directly. The reward has been rescinded.” Kurapika hung up the phone without thinking.
“The reward...has been rescinded?” Kurapika repeated slowly, struggling to believe it even as he said it aloud. Killua's eyes widened.
“Seriously?” said Killua, “The Ryodan comes from Meteor City?!”
“Now I get it,” Leorio said thoughtfully, “That explains why their identities are still unknown, and also why the police haven't been able to track them down...”
“What is Meteor City?” Gon asked, his trademark innocence shining through.
“A city populated by people who, as far as society is concerned, don't exist,” Leorio explained.
“There's a city like that?” Gon asked in disbelief.
“Yes. Officially, it's uninhabited, but it's said that upwards of ten million people live there... It began as a garbage dump over fifteen-hundred years ago, and people began living off the garbage that was deposited there. It eventually became an abandoned region, with no real form of government. You're allowed to dump anything there... From garbage to weapons, even people... And the residents will accept anything that is left there,” Leorio said gravely. “It's said that Meteor City residents share a mysterious bond that is 'thinner than that between strangers, and thicker than that between kin'.”
“Actually, there are certain people that provide Meteor City residents with weapons and precious metals, under the pretext of dumping garbage...The mafia community.” Kurapika added, having finally caught his breath.
“What are you talking about? The mafia is hunting the Ryodan!” Gon said loudly, not quite comprehending the intricacies of mob hiring practices.
“In exchange, the mafia recruits people from Meteor City,” Kurapika finished.
“People who don't 'exist,' as far as society is concerned,” Leorio said, “Who better to commit crimes? ...The Ryodan destroyed the normally inextricable relationship between the mafia and Meteor City. But the mafia has decided to prioritize that relationship.”
'The Spiders...are really that powerful, huh?' Killua thought, frowning. 'Then it makes sense that the mafia would want peace with the remaining members... the better question is, why did the Spiders stop waging war against the mafia?'