Chapter Text
Kurapika’s mouth felt like he had swallowed an electrical wire and his bones ached like they’d been crushed and sloppily glued back together.
Wincing, he opened his pounding eyes to survey his surroundings. A gloomy room, the only source of light being a small window directly under the ceiling. Stone walls, adorned with big stone pillars, towered menacingly over him.
Kurapika was slumped on the floor, his wrists and waist chained to one of the pillars; he grinned slightly maddened–the irony wasn’t lost on him. Chains for the chain user.
Despite the lingering pain from his recent battle coursing through his body, he moved his right arm and discovered that all the bone fractures and cuts were miraculously healed. Why was he still alive? Whatever the reason, he would have preferred to remain dead rather than face whatever awaited him next.
After a lengthy time, a door behind him creaked open. A ray of light spread out on the stone floor, the door swung shut and footsteps approached him slowly, reminiscent of a hunting predator gradually closing in on its prey. The steps halted.
A smooth, serene voice emanated next to Kurapika, and he shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the despicable face belonging to it. “I see, you’re finally awake, how are you feeling?”
Kurapika remained silent, he felt his eyes glow warm as they turned scarlet. He doubted very much that his contact lenses were still intact after the battle he had fought the previous night.
His enemy clicked his tongue mockingly: “Honestly I expected you to show slightly better manners than this, since you’ve been working for higher-ups the last time we met.”
A shiver ran down Kurapika’s spine. His enemy seemed to be analyzing him; Kurapika could practically feel his silver eyes tracing over his face, trying to read his expression like a mildly intriguing book.
He contemplated trying to break the heavy chains tying him to the pillar, but he very much doubted he would be fast enough before he got killed.
He heard the fabric of the Spider’s suit rustle as he crouched down to be on Kurapika’s level, he even discerned a hint of impatience in the man’s voice as he spoke again: “Listen to me. I could torture and kill you, but I have no desire to waste my time or get my suit sullied. Would it be so difficult for you to cooperate just a little?”
“Never in a thousand years would I cooperate with the likes of you!” Kurapika’s heartbeat pulsed with suppressed rage as he heard Chrollo pull something out of his coat. Kurapika let his eyelid part ever so slightly, to see what it was and froze.
“I see, now I have your attention! I’ve heard through the grapevine that you are collecting these.”
In Chrollo’s hand was a glass jar, filled with a translucent fluid, swaying inside a pair of scarlet eyes. They seemed to look right at Kurapika, the red iris burned itself into his mind, but he couldn’t look away like he was being hypnotized.
Kurapika should’ve expected the Phantom Troupe to still possess some of their spoils but seeing the eyes in his enemy’s hand made him sick to his stomach. Who knew who these eyes had belonged to once? Maybe to the nice baker from across the street, who would sneak Kurapika samples of his goods every so often. Maybe to the old lady, who would regularly feed the squirrels at the outskirts of the village, who even allowed Kurapika to hold one of the warm, fluffy beings in the palms of his hands one time. The Phantom Troupe had taken those eyes from them because the organs were valuable. To them, even more valuable than a human’s life.
Chrollo tucked the eyes back into his coat and shifted slightly to face Kurapika, who now was staring daggers at him: “You lost our fight last night. I could’ve easily killed you right there and then, but I kindly decided to spare your life – just as you spared my life back in Yorknew city. What goes around comes around, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Bullshit.” Kurapika knew the leader of the Phantom Troupe well enough not to expect him to do anything out of the good of his heart – if he even had a heart. He couldn’t discern his enemy’s intentions though. There was simply nothing left for him to take from Kurapika, besides his life, as he had already stolen or destroyed everything else.
“No, really. I’m being just as polite as you were to me back then!” he gestured at the chains around Kurapika’s body, “see?”
Kurapika hadn’t known that Chrollo possessed something remotely close to humor and he felt unsettled by it: “What do you want?”
“Let’s nor beat around the bush,” Chrollo looked challenging into Kurapika’s eyes as he inched a little closer, Kurapika detected a faint smell of black coffee emanating from his enemy, “You have two options. The first option is, I’m going to kill you right here, right now. The second option is–” Chrollo smiled viciously as he made a small pause. Kurapika tensed, readying himself for the next sick thing his enemy had in store for him, “you join the Phantom troupe.”
A millisecond of silence as Kurapika tried to comprehend the proposal, his eyes widening and lips parting, forming an o – then a loud, metallic bang as he threw himself against the chains with all his force, causing Chrollo to quickly move back: “I’d rather rot in hell!”
Chrollo didn’t look in the least surprised as he lifted an eyebrow: “Seriously? You’d abandon your precious eyes as well as your life rather than joining us?”
Kurapika couldn’t even speak he was so furious.
Why would Chrollo want him to join the Troupe? It probably was some twisted way of revenge the Spider had thought of because Kurapika had killed two of his members. But yes, Kurapika would rather forfeit his life than join the Troupe that had destroyed his life eight year ago. The mere thought of it was unbearable to him: Standing beside them as they slaughtered innocent people, crushing their lives as if they were insignificant ants under their heels. No, not only standing alongside them; if Kurapika joined the Troupe he would even be forced to assist them in their merciless slaughter! He wasn’t even coping with killing the two Spiders back in Yorknew city. Now Kurapika was expected to kill innocent people as well? ‘No’ was his answer, even if hell froze over.
Chrollo sighed, rubbing his temples like a man whose favorite shoes just got ruined, not like one who just threatened death and still got denied his desire: “I figured you’d react this way. You would likely rather write with your own blood than borrow a pen, your pride is so unyielding.”
Yes, this much was true at least. Kurapika would never let anything to compromise his resolve. It was all he had left after all.
“But no need to fret,” Chrollo’s voice was as sweet as honey-coated venom, “I have a third option prepared. What I’m proposing is a small contest. If I win, you’ll have to join the Troupe. If you win, you can have your scarlet eyes and I let you go unharmed, never to bother you again!”
That sounded too good to be true. Because it was.
“How dumb do you think I am?” Kurapika nearly spat the words into Chrollo’s face, “You’re known as the embodiment of deceit. It’s obvious that this contest is going to be impossible to win!”
Chrollo’s eyes sparkled with an underlying sense of glee: “You’re flattering me! And I promise you that winning this contest is entirely achievable. You know what? I’m not even going to use any Nen for it.”
Kurapika felt taken aback. His mind raced through possible scenarios. If Nen wasn’t involved, what if the Spider was unmatched in some unexpected area like chess or sculpting? Surely the contest must be a ploy.
But what choice did Kurapika have? He couldn’t leave this world just yet, with the image of the scarlet eyes in his enemy’s hand so freshly engraved into his mind. What had he to lose? Nothing. He either died by the hands of his worst enemy or he tried out his luck with this competition, even though luck wasn’t something Kurapika liked to rely on.
After a moment of contemplation, he drew a deep breath and gave a hesitant nod: “Fine what’s this contest about?”
“What’s the thing I’m best at?” Chrollo rose, looking down at Kurapika, as the backlight from the small window obscures his features in shadow.
Kurapika shifted uncomfortably: “Murdering the innocent?”
With a small snort, Chrollo folded his arms across his chest: “Close, sweetie, that’s the thing I’m second best at. Stealing is my forte.”
A surge of hope flooded Kurapika, momentarily even overshadowing his irritation at being called ‘sweetie’.
Certainly, Chrollo was skilled at theft, but he fully underestimated Kurapika. Without his Nen, the leader of the Phantom Troupe nothing but an ordinary thief, giving Kurapika a realistic chance at beating him. Moreover, if Kurapika lost the contest, he would still always be able to take his own life. So, what was the catch? Kurapika tried to read his intentions by studying any cues in Chrollo’s expression, but it remained as readable as a closed book.
“I’m going to win, no matter what it takes,” Kurapika declared, his determination growing.
At last, Chrollo’s face did show some emotion; his lips curled into an entertained grin: “I’m sure of it.”
With a snap of his finger, he let a single link of the chain, right over Kurapika’s heart burst into small metal pieces, letting the rest of the chain fall to the ground around Kurapika like a dead snake. Kurapika rubbed his aching wrists, attempting to maintain an air of strength. However, he didn’t feel any relief at being unchained, he only felt more trapped than ever. Hastily freeing himself from the limp metal chain, rose to match Chrollo’s height but found himself still falling a few centimeters short.
“How can I trust you not to break your promise?”
With a swift movement, Chrollo summoned his book and started flipping through the pages. The simple piece, with its deep red cover and white palmprint, wouldn’t cause anyone much distress with just its appearance, but Kurapika knew out of experience that it was more dangerous than a loaded gun aimed at his heart.
“What are you doing with that?!” Kurapika tried to suppress the panic in his voice as he took a quick step back, nearly causing him to stumble over the chains on the floor.
Chrollo’s eyes found his and his eyebrows shifted together in evident annoyance: “That is called Bandit’s Secret. And I’m establishing a proper Nen-contract with you so you can trust me. Just as you requested.” Chrollo finally stopped at his desired page and made a satisfied hum.
Kurapika couldn’t trust him one way or another.
“Give me your hand,” Chrollo reached his left out to Kurapika, still having this annoyed look in his eyes.
With a slight hesitation Kurapika, who would’ve rather touched a cactus than Chrollo, put his hand into his. Chrollo’s grip was firm as he started muttering something under his breath, Kurapika could feel his hair floating up into the air, like it didn’t obey the laws of gravity and a light emitted from their entangled hands. Kurapika instinctively wanted to pull it back, but it seemed to be glued together with Chrollo’s.
“With this Nen-contract, we shall determine who can steal a specific hunter’s license and bring it back here the fastest. If I, Chrollo Lucilfer, win without using any Nen, Kurapika Kurta must join the Phantom Troupe and act accordingly.” Chrollo looked at Kurapika expectingly, Kurapika cleared his throat: “If I, Kurapika Kurta win, Chrollo Lucilfer is to surrender the scarlet eyes of the Kurta clan to me and let me leave without any hindrance, never to bother me ever again.”
Now their entangled hands started glowing even more brightly, before turning back to normal abruptly. Kurapika’s hair fell again, and he let go of Chrollo’s hand as if he had been burned.
The Spider regarded him, his chin slightly lifted, triumph glistening in his eyes, as though their fight had already been concluded, with him as the victor. Kurapika felt a shiver travel down his spine as he looked down at his own hand.
Deal with the devil.
“Here is your license number!” Chrollo handed Kurapika a small piece of paper with the number 109824803292 scribbled on it. He looked down at Kurapika one last time, assessing him from head to toe with just a glance, before calmly walking outside the room.
Kurapika felt his heart pound in his chest. He waited a few seconds, then dashed out of the room after his opponent, but there was no trace of Chrollo in sight. He made his way to the exit of the building, very wary of other Members of the Phantom Troupe that could lurk in the shadows, but he didn’t encounter anyone. When he finally stood in front of the hideout, an abandoned building, the leaves in the trees around him rustled ominously and the sky was overcast by dark clouds. While Kurapika worked his way out of the abandoned part of the city, rain started pouring down on his silhouette, drenching him from head to toe.
Each step he took sent a sharp pain into his head, together with the image of those scarlet eyes. Kurapika instinctively reached for his own wrist, half-expecting the cold grip of the chains to still be attached there, only to quickly let his hand sink again.
Who was he kidding? The chains were always there.