Chapter Text
The shrill cries of a baby echoed through the room, disrupting the tense silence that had fallen over the space as friends and foes alike gathered. In the living quarters, a heftier man in a suit paced in mock anxiousness, poking around the room and voicing his displeasure at the delay. A man in military attire stood like a statue in the center of the room, watching the pacing one from the corner of his eye, ignoring his provocations. Another suited man, this one shorter, stood off to one side, urging patience, and an older man checked his watch, remarking that this display was uncouth. The rest remained silent, watching each other shiftily. Finally, the man standing in the center of the room approached the door, knocking firmly a few times and speaking in a tone that denoted his authority, “Your Highness, with due respect, we aren’t able to wait here all day.”
…
As a firm knock sounded on the door, a short-statured woman in servant’s garb hushed the crying infant in her arms to no avail, turning to the man standing beside her, “Bill, what are we gonna do?”
The man looked between the Queen, who was laying unconscious on her bed, and the blonde haired man laying on the floor beside her, somehow even more unconscious. He didn’t answer immediately, and another knock sounded, firmer than the last, serving as a warning.
Bill sneered at the door, musing to himself, well, this is a mess…
He shook himself off with a sigh, turning to the woman holding the baby, “Shimano, just try to soothe the Prince. Whatever you do, don’t come out in the front room, yeah?” he turned towards the door, throwing over his shoulder, “And if either of them wakes up, keep them quiet!”
Bill opened the door, just as the man on the other side had reached the end of his patience. He stood in the doorway, blocking the view into the room, “Babimyna, sir.”
Babimyna, despite his annoyance, stepped back to give Bill some space with a nod of acknowledgement, but he eyed him suspiciously, “What’s going on?”
Bill carefully shut the door behind him, making sure Babimyna couldn’t see into the room. He spoke in a hushed voice, only loud enough for Babimyna to hear, “I apologize for the delay… The Queen is having trouble nursing the Prince, and she’s fretting a bit.”
Babimyna considered his words for a moment, then narrowed his eyes slightly, “Queen Oito needs a man to help her with that?”
For a moment, Bill was quiet, then he sighed, “Not me, no. I was just cleaning and warming a bottle for the Queen.”
Babimyna didn’t back down, “And Kurapika? He’s the one we came to speak to.”
Bill could feel a cold sweat beading on his back, knowing Babimyna was playing nice and could pull rank at any moment if his suspicions grew any higher, “Kurapika… he’s a sensitive type, you know? In touch with his feminine side,” he gestured a bit with his hands to hide his nervousness, “To be honest, the Prince has taken a liking to him, and the Queen is…” he glanced past Babimyna at the five other men in the room, “...a little uncomfortable and nervous with so many men around. She’s clinging to Kurapika a bit, in light of seven of her nine guards being murdered this morning, along with her two other servants. I hope you can give her some grace…”
Babimyna eyed him, glancing at the closed door, and then back at Bill, scrutinizing him while he considered his words. Bill felt the first drop of sweat fall down his back, he’s using En… depending how proficient he is, he might call my bluff.
After a long moment, Babimyna turned back into the room, addressing the small gathering and Bill at the same time, “We’ll come back tomorrow morning, then.”
Bill watched him, not daring to feel relieved yet. Protests erupted from those in the room, but when Babimyna raised his hand in a gesture for silence, no one was allowed to protest, though their faces remained displeased, “We’ve disturbed Queen Oito at a bad time, and we’re hindering the care of Prince Woble. We’ll come back in the morning.”
His last words were delivered like an order, but the man who’d been pacing spoke up with irritation, “ Pft, this sounds like an excuse, Babimyna,” he looked over at Bill, distrust on his face, “You don’t buy their story, do you?”
Babimyna turned a stern but calm expression on the man, “Slakka, you wouldn’t want to be responsible for something happening to the Prince, would you?”
Slakka scoffed, “Save your empty threats, Babimyna. I know I have to listen to you.”
With that, Babimyna tossed his head, gesturing for everyone to clear out of the room. They reluctantly filed out, and as they left, Babimyna gave Bill a warning, “We’ll be back at seven o’clock. Tell Kurapika we expect him to greet us. Even a minute late, and we’ll take it as a declaration of hostility.”
He shut the door firmly behind him, leaving no room for argument as Bill stood in the middle of the room, sweat still running down his back. When he was sure they were gone, he heaved a sigh, now what do I do?…
Meanwhile, on the Lower Decks…
Throngs of people were shoving past one another, the air musty and humid, a cacophony of voices overlapping in a maddening drone. Clothes hung on lines overhead, some washed, others bloodied, and people were laid out along the sides of the makeshift alleyways. Some held signs begging for scraps and change, others were wasted on drugs and alcohol. At the ends of the alleyways, men with guns and other weapons patrolled, demanding what little the people had left. People with nowhere to go, nothing to live for, fleeing for their lives, with nothing left and everything to fight for packed into the slums of the Black Whale.
Pushing callously through the hoard, a young man in a knee-length black coat stalked through the crowds, lost in his own thoughts. Every now and then, someone would slam their shoulder into his, looking to start a fight, but the look in his eyes was enough to send them scrambling away, an inexplicable sense of dread filling them as they quickly slipped away, hushed apologies following in their wake. However, one who stood in his way had no intention of moving.
His pace slowed as he approached a young woman, who was standing squared off, clearly waiting for him. He came to a stop, standing a couple feet in front of her. The two eyed each other for a moment, then spoke at the same time.
“ I’m going to kill Hisoka.”
“First come, first served.”
They narrowed their eyes at each other, the challenge obvious between them. Then, at the same time again-
“Nope.”
“No.”
With a scoff, the young man took the lead in the conversation, “No.”
The woman scowled at him, not sharing the fear of the crowd that cautiously picked their way around the man, “Fine, then. Let’s flip a coin.”
She brandished a coin that was already in her palm, a twelve-legged spider on one side, a web on the other. He paused for a moment, then shook his head, “No.”
The woman flared up, “Don’t just say ‘no’, tell me why not!”
The man huffed a bit under his breath, “Because coins only work between two individuals. This time, everyone , including you and I, Machi, want to kill Hisoka. So a coin won’t work.”
He scrutinized her with a half-hearted glare, thinking to himself as she glared right back, unflinchingly, but you know that. So tell me what you really want.
Machi met his gaze, her own steady, “Chrollo…”
Chrollo felt a pang of irritation at the way she said his name, hearing the pity in her tone, “What is it you really want, Machi?”
She hesitated for a moment now, “Please. Let me be the one.”
Chrollo’s expression hardened, “Not a chance.”
Anger sparked in Machi’s eyes, “He made a fool of me! I intend to pay him back ten-fold! So let me be the one!”
They took a step towards each other, the air around them exploding with tension. The crowd that had been eyeing their exchange quickly cleared out, as if they expected them to pull guns out and begin shooting at any second.
Chrollo’s voice was tense, a darkness in his eyes as they glared balefully at each other, “ First come, first served. ”
Their standoff continued for what felt like an eternity, but was only a matter of a few seconds. Then, as quickly as their hackles had risen, their feathers smoothed. They both stood down, and Machi put her fist through a nearby shoddy wall, “Fine! But I intend to find him first!”
She spat her words venomously, but when the two met each other’s gaze again, there was no anger for one another, “Of course. I intend to do the same, though, and I’m sure the others agree.”
Machi huffed a sigh out, calming down a bit, “Naturally. Do you have any leads?”
Having relaxed, they now stood shoulder to shoulder, looking around the alleyway at the perplexed crowd, “No.”
Machi gave him a look, “And you wouldn’t hide it from me if you did?”
Chrollo scoffed, “Would you?”
They locked eyes, for a moment, it looked as if they’d go back to their argument. Instead Machi looked away with an offended expression, “What do you think?”
Stubbornly, they both refused to answer. As the crowd nervously began to mill about again, Chrollo released a deep breath, quieting his mind and heart, “There’s five Tiers, and approximately two hundred thousand people on board,” Machi looked up at him, her own expression softening as he continued, “He’s on this ship. We just need patience now. We will find him.”
With a long look at Chrollo’s profile, Machi finished, “And end him!”
As they headed in opposite directions, Machi stole a long, disappointed look at Chrollo’s back. Chrollo didn’t look back, though he knew from their years together what Machi was thinking, and he could feel her gaze burning into his back, it has to be this way. I will find Hisoka first.
Early the next morning, in room 1014…
Kurapika woke in a cold sweat, his head still pounding. He remembered instantly what had happened, and he sat up far too quickly, the entire room spinning when he did, his vision going dark again. A hand landed on the back of his shoulder, steadying him while a hushed voice spoke in his ear, “Easy there…”
Kurapika was startled when he realized the artificial day-night lights on the ship were dark, meaning it was past nine at night. He was supposed to meet with representatives from the third and first Princes at six to discuss the murder of two of Prince Zhang-Lei’s guards, and one of Prince Benjamin’s soldiers at the hands of Kurapika.
He looked over at Bill, “What time is it!?”
Bill hushed him again, “Quiet down! No one knows you fainted… It’s late, but the Princes left some guards by the door to assure we aren’t up to no good.”
Kurapika took in his situation, his headache immediately worsening, “What happened with the meeting earlier?”
Bill sighed, muttering at first, “Where to start…” he thought for a moment, then spoke more clearly, “Well, we avoided disaster. When you fainted, Queen Oito went down too. It’s about three in the morning now, so you’ve been out for about nine hours.”
Kurapika felt sick, nine hours…
He pressed a hand over his eye as Bill continued, “I managed to convince them that the Queen was having some personal troubles, or, well, Babimyna, Prince Benjamin’s soldier, played along, for whatever reason… They agreed to come back at seven in the morning today, and they expect you to greet them,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I was beginning to think you went and died and left me here, you know…”
Kurapika went quiet for a moment, trying to calm himself down, “Okay… so you think this Babimyna guy knew something was up?”
Bill made a bit of a face, “Yeah. He can use Nen, and he’s pretty good with his En, so I think it’s safe to bet he knew what was going on.”
Kurapika scowled, he can use En… that’s troublesome.
The stormy look on Kurapika’s face prompted Bill to rest his hand on his shoulder again, “Hey, are you all right? You don’t look well…”
Kurapika glowered a bit, though it wasn’t directed at Bill, “I don’t know. But I’ll be ready to meet them at seven,” finally, he dared to ask, “And what about the Queen and Prince?”
Bill glanced over his shoulder, he’d moved Kurapika back to the guard’s quarters, “Shimano was here a while ago, she got the Prince to bed and she said the Queen was resting easily, not feverish like you.”
Kurapika rubbed his eyes again, “So she’s okay?”
Bill’s voice held cautious optimism, “It seems so, but she’s been out as long as you have, so…”
Kurapika sighed, he was just about to say something more when Shimano quietly entered the room, “Bill?”
Noticing Kurapika, she let out an ‘oh’ and then placed a hand over her heart, continuing, “Thank goodness… Queen Oito just woke up, too. She was very worried about you, Kurapika.”
A long moment of silence fell over the dark room. Finally, Kurapika spoke, “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. Shimano, please let Queen Oito know that I’m okay, and that I’ll handle the representatives from the Princes. Stay with her while they’re here, you’re sharp and observant, if you sense something wrong, use your transmitter to signal me, but don’t leave her side. Bill, you and I are going to meet with them as planned, but let’s keep them away from the Queen’s bedroom and the adjacent wall until we get an idea what they’re here for.”
Shimano nodded, then went back to the Queen’s room. Once she was gone, Kurapika turned to Bill, “If they agreed to come back, it’s a good sign for us. You get some rest, I’m going to wash up a bit. I’ve been resting while you’ve been up, so go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you before they get here.”
Bill moved to oblige, but he commented as Kurapika got shakily to his feet, “That might be so, but you look way worse than I do.”
Kurapika huffed under his breath, but he didn’t comment further as Bill laid down on his own bed, clearly more tired than he wanted to admit. Kurapika slid the door open to the conjoined shower room, closing it gently behind him so the light wouldn’t disrupt Bill. He felt queasy, heaving a sigh as he stood before the sink. He removed his contacts, relieved to see that his eyes were their normal slate taupe color. However, he could tell from how drained his aura was that his Emperor Time had been activated a long time, and he could only assume it had relinquished when the Queen woke up.
He grit his teeth in frustration, damn it!
Kurapika lifted a fist with the intention of slamming it into the countertop, but he lowered it dejectedly a moment later, nine hours… plus the three before I fainted… for nothing! And now…
Aggravated, he rubbed his eyes hard, until they were bloodshot, now I have to deal with them…
Meanwhile, in the Lower Decks Red Light District...
A woman in intricate red and gold robes made her way through makeshift rooms under the lanterns strung overhead. She moved with purpose, ignoring the sounds that rose from the haphazard constructions on either side. She approached a man with a rose tattoo on his neck, who was flushed from drunkenness, flask in hand, “Whadya want?”
She bowed slightly in acknowledgement, “We have a young man here who’s requested our five youngest, most beautiful girls, and our most experienced.”
The drunk man took a breath, as if trying to process what was being said, “‘Kay, can he pay?”
The woman straightened up, “That’s why I’m here, I wouldn’t bother you for a regular customer,” the man rested his hand over the rifle on the table, as if getting ready to go handle the problem. However, the woman waved her hand, her sleeve flowing elegantly as she produced a large sack filled with gold coins, “Not necessary, he paid in full for four hours.”
The man, despite his drunkenness, sat up at that, looking at the bag as if he couldn’t believe, “How t’hell did someone down ‘ere get this?”
The woman made a graceful gesture, something like a shrug, “We can only assume he’s snuck down from the VVIP area. Otherwise, our ‘associates’ would have bled him dry.”
The man was more interested in the coins, “Right, go round up yer girls, then. Give ‘im whatever he wants.”
The woman left with a bow, but her beautifully made up face twisted in a resentful expression once she was out of sight. She made her way towards a large room where a group of young women were chatting quietly. As she entered, they all quieted down, none wanting to be the subject of her frosty gaze. She picked five young girls, who all looked dejectedly around as they got to their feet, fixing their robes and makeup. She rushed them harshly, informing them this client wouldn’t wait. With even greater dread, they realized their client must be an affluent man, which meant he’d be even crueler than their usual patrons.
The woman led them through the alleyway, they slumped miserably as they followed, but as they approached the door, they suddenly perked up, putting on demure smiles and straightening their backs. They followed her in, coming to sit across a low table from a young man in a long black coat. He was sitting on a cushion, one hand propping himself up, the other resting thoughtfully over his mouth as he scrutinized them one by one. They only met his cold, charcoal grey eyes briefly before their gazes fixed on the floor, submissively. On the table sat a tokkuri, with a set of sakazuki cups laid out carefully. The eldest woman, who was of no more than thirty years or so, gracefully took the pitcher, pouring the sake into one of the cups before picking it up with both hands and presenting it to the man with a bow. He took it, his hand brushing gently over hers, and drank it with hardly a change in expression. The young girls behind her held their placating expressions, but their white knuckles betrayed their nervousness.
Finally, with a deep breath, the man spoke, “I have some peculiar requests for you ladies.”
One of the girls swallowed hard, and they all tensed. The eldest rose in a smooth movement, coming to sit beside him, draping an arm over his shoulders in a way that caused her robes to fall open in a tantalizing fashion, “We’re here to serve you, sir.”
However, his eyes never so much as wavered from her face, and as she reached a hand beneath his coat to brush the bare skin of his collar, he gently removed her, “I’m not here for that.”
What should have brought relief only brought tension to the girls, as the eldest spoke again, “Then, are you the… brutish type?”
The expression of the youngest girl faltered, as she’d heard stories of the men who came here just to beat the working women half to death.
He merely shook his head, his smooth voice floating through the quiet room, “No, I don’t think of myself as such.”
The girls exchanged glances, and their elder continued, “So, a handsome young man like yourself paid more than we ladies make in a year… for company?” They eyed each other, and she made a face, “Dare I say, I highly doubt that.”
The man smiled a bit, though it wasn’t a terribly warm smile, “I’m here for information on someone I believe would solicit such services.”
The woman sat back a bit, eyeing him, “Hm, what’s your name, young man?”
He eyed her back, “I’ve no intention of telling you.”
She nodded, sizing him up, “I see. You’re serious, aren’t you?” he merely blinked slowly as one of the younger girls reached to pour him another cup of sake, “Who are you interested in?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “The Fourth Prince of Kakin, Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou.”
The girl who had reached for the sake jolted, suddenly spilling some of it. The elder scolded her, and she frantically tried to sop it up with a rag, apologizing fearfully.
The young man gave no reaction, though, and kept his gaze on the eldest, who fixed her expression and turned back to him, “You see, that’s a difficult request. Men don’t come to us just for sex. Our job also requires a degree of… confidentiality. We don’t put our lives on the line to interfere in the disputes of men.”
They locked eyes for a moment, then, without warning, he snatched the wrist of the young girl with frightening speed, and she yelped in shock, “The youngest amongst you…” he glanced at her face, “...can’t be more than fifteen, am I right, miss?”
His grip wasn’t painful, but it was unrelenting, and her voice came out as no more than a whisper, “Thirteen, sir…”
She swallowed nervously, not wanting to meet his eyes. Just as the eldest amongst them tensed, he released his grip, sitting back with an easy posture again, “Thirteen, then. Do you think I’m a bigger monster than that?”
He looked over at the eldest, a smug smile on his lips. She was silent, so he continued, “Besides, I don’t ask for things for free,” he reached into his coat, pulling out another bag of coins and dropping it on the table. The girls eyed it, but the eldest was unswayed, and she scoffed, “You’re not the first to offer money for information. What guarantee do we have that you’re not one of the Fourth Prince’s men, sent here to test us?”
The man quirked a brow, but rather than answer, he undid the headband covering his forehead, revealing the tattoo there. The girls, who were cautiously intrigued now, stared on in confusion, but the eldest recoiled in fear, “You’re-”
He interrupted her, “Yes.”
The girls glanced fearfully at the woman who was basically their leader, and she blinked a few times before gathering herself, “A Spider!”
He brought the cup of sake to his lips, the look he gave her a warning.
She immediately straightened herself out, her voice quieting down, “So, give you the information you want or you’ll kill us, is that it?”
She sounded angry, but the man merely watched her coldly, without answering. The girls shifted uncomfortably, and one finally spoke, “W-what do you want to know?”
The man’s expression softened a bit, “Everything.”
The eldest woman shifted, coming to sit behind him. She ran her hands over his shoulders, squeezing them in rhythmic motions as she shrugged his coat off the broad of his back. He prepared himself for her to draw a knife or gun, but instead, she leaned in close to his ear, whispering in a sultry voice, “Fine, but, we need to exercise some discretion. You understand?”
Her breath ghosted over his skin, and he leaned back, their faces close enough that no one could read their lips, “We’re being watched, right?”
She hummed, the closeness as she did making his skin rise instinctively, “It’s always a possibility, so we can’t discount it recklessly.”
He spoke softly, “All right, I understand,” turning to the girls, he asked, “Are you all well-versed in the arts?”
The girls, who no longer knew whether to be afraid or interested, nodded together while one spoke delicately, “Yes, sir.”
He smiled, producing a pen and a notebook from his pocket, “Wonderful. Then, if you’d please,” he handed it to the girls, “Write some poetry.”
The girls exchanged glances, then, understanding what he meant, they began to write. The woman behind him continued her soothing motions, speaking quietly to him, “What’s your interest in the Prince?”
He closed his eyes, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, “None of your business.”
She hummed, “I understand,” as the girls continued to write, she drew a deep breath, “The Fourth Prince… you were correct in your assessment of him. He has a taste for young, beautiful girls,” she kept her voice barely audible, “But I’m afraid you’re not going to find what you’re looking for here. He doesn’t come to us, he has us sent to him, and…” she broke off, her movements faltering and a mournful look crossing her face, “...and they don’t come back. I apologize, but this is the honest truth.”
The man sat thoughtfully quiet as the last of the girls finished writing. Then, speaking a bit louder, he inquired, “What about a man named Hisoka?”
The eldest stared blankly back, “I’m afraid I don’t know of that name.”
Scrutinizing her, she didn’t balk under his cold gaze. She continued, “However, some men prefer more of a challenge than young girls can present. It’s not uncommon for the more powerful ones to seek out other men to dominate. Perhaps you’ll have better luck inquiring with some of our male associates.”
The young man straightened his coat back over his shoulders, collecting the notebook that the girls had written on and twirling the pen in his right hand, “No, that won’t be necessary,” he tore a blank page from the book, “Now, a parting gift, as thanks for your help.”
The girls, having convinced themselves that he really wasn’t going to take their heads off, leaned in, curiously watching his fast, deft strokes with the pen as he wrote with incredible speed and refinement. They seemed impressed, appreciating the gentlemanly craft of his handwriting. When he finished, he handed the page to the eldest, who looked at it in confusion, “What is this…?”
He smiled, standing up, and pocketing his notebook, “A ticket out of here. Study and practice it well. And don’t show it to anyone else.”
He turned to leave without another word, and the girls stared at his back, the image of the reversed cross burning into their minds. The eldest looked at the page again before folding it carefully and placing it into her pocket. The door shut quietly and gently behind him, and as they all relaxed, one of the girls couldn’t help but giggle, more to herself than the others, “You know… he was kinda cute!”
Day 3 of the voyage, Seven in the morning, room 1014…
Kurapika stood before the group of men, facing down their scrutiny with unwavering nerves. Babimyna stood at the head of the pack, only a couple paces from Kurapika, his face fixed in a cold glare. Silence stretched out, and Kurapika could feel Bill forcing himself not to shift his weight behind him. Kurapika and Babimyna continued to size each other up, challenging the other to say something. Finally, the shorter man stepped forward, “I suppose we could discuss the terms with Prince Benjamin’s personal soldiers present,” his words were delivered with pointed displeasure, “But what about you, Maor?”
The older man looked unphased, speaking confidently as he checked his watch, “It’s fine by us. The power of information lies in how it’s used. It’s not a matter of how many possess it.”
Babimyna interjected, not looking away from Kurapika, “I’m glad to hear that, but let me clear, our presence is non-negotiable. First Prince Benjamin has ordered us to protect Prince Woble, and none of you have the authority to send us off. So,” he finally swept a hard look over the group, “...decide amongst yourselves whether our terms are acceptable.”
Kurapika sighed inwardly, he’s pushing us around to assert his own authority, that much is obvious. But the real question is; is it to control us, or them?
Kurapika matched his nerves, stepping forward, “Anyway, as I already explained, I suspect the deaths to be related to Nen and Nen Beasts. If you decide to take us up on our offer, be back here tomorrow by nine,” he fixed his gaze on Babimyna, “Since Babimyna and Furykov can already use Nen quite proficiently, they’ll be auditing my class to make sure everything remains factual. Any objections?”
The look he fixed Babimyna with was a challenge as he blatantly called their hand. Babimyna’s expression shifted to one of faint annoyance, but he didn’t seem overly concerned as the others turned to him with looks of surprise, “Sure, sounds fine to us.”
He shrugged in mock ease, and Kurapika continued to address the rest of the group about expectations and procedures, I won’t let you call all the shots, Babimyna. Don’t take me for a fool…
Babimyna stayed quiet now, listening to Kurapika address the group. Truthfully, Kurapika was more worried about Furykov, who showed no interest in haggling them, and was watching the group with frosty silence, observing every exchange. Once Kurapika was finished, the group began to move for the door. Babimyna and Furykov stayed behind, and Sakata, a representative from the Third Prince, lingered for a moment.
He turned to Kurapika, “I’m optimistic on our terms. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow morning, but rest assured, Third Prince Zhang-Lei welcomes allies who don’t pose a threat to his path to the throne.”
Kurapika watched him cautiously, “So, you agreed with my theory, even though you can’t use Nen, and have no means of verifying it? Your men were victims in the attack, are you sure it’s that simple?”
Sakata quirked a brow, “Well,” he glanced around Kurapika at Babimyna and Furykov, who were speaking quietly to each other, “I don’t imagine those two would be playing along if what you said was false. They also lost one to your hand, they have no reason to cover for you.”
Kurapika nodded, “A reasonable conclusion.”
Sakata finished as he stepped out through the door, “And besides, someone who’s trying to fool another doesn’t ask questions pointing out their own suspicious behavior. We’ll be back tomorrow with word from the Third Prince.”
Kurapika stayed quiet, remembering the woman who’d said the same thing to him once before, years ago. Sakata closed the door behind him, and Kurapika turned back into the central part of the room. Bill had stayed between the two men and the Queen’s bedroom, but now that things were settled, he knocked on the door, signaling to the Queen to come out.
She emerged, carrying Woble, and with Shimano at her side, eyeing the men distrustfully. Babimyna gave her a polite nod, but she seemed entirely unconvinced, “Your Highness, we’ve been sent by First Prince Benjamin to ensure the safety of you and Prince Woble. Kurapika agreed to our terms.”
She shot Kurapika a look, which he met steadily, we can’t refuse, you know that.
She turned her gaze back to the two men, “Fine. Then tell First Prince Benjamin we’re grateful for your assistance,” she glanced at Shimano, “They may stay in the east security anteroom.”
Shimano nodded in acknowledgement, “I’ll go prepare the room for you.”
Babimyna quirked a brow, “Prepare it?”
Kurapika, knowing what he was implying, interrupted, “Of course. That’s where the murders took place. Naturally, you’d want to see the scene for yourselves, right?”
Babimyna’s expression changed slightly, clearly finding Kurapika to be a difficult customer, “Naturally. Furykov, go with her.”
Shimano glanced nervously at Furykov, so Bill moved as well, “Then, I’ll help too.”
Although the mutual distrust was obvious, Kurapika and Babimyna let them all go. Queen Oito, sensing the mood between the two, excused herself as well, “I need to feed Woble. Kurapika, I trust you’ll handle things.”
As the door shut behind her, Kurapika and Babimyna were left alone. For a moment, they merely looked each other over, then Babimyna spoke, “You know, I’m impressed, Kurapika.”
Kurapika met his gaze, unflinching, his tone flat and without flatter, “Really? You don’t seem like the easily impressed type.”
Babimyna relaxed his posture, though just a bit, “You really intend to force a stalemate. I assumed it was a ruse to gather intel, I didn’t think you were reckless enough to mean it.”
Kurapika waved a hand, dismissively, his tone not at all sincere, “Did I offend you? When I called your hand in front of the others?”
Babimyna glanced at him, scoffing slightly, “Not at all. Our presence was a major problem for your negotiations, but you flipped it effortlessly into your favor by putting us on the spot. Working for the Fourteenth Prince, you have virtually no weight to throw around, so you leveraged us and threw our weight instead,” he gave Kurapika a cold look, “You’ve got some nerves, and you’re quick on your feet. That much is clear.”
Kurapika watched him as he poked around the room, “Whatever your intentions, let me tell you this… our priority is only the safety of Prince Woble and Queen Oito.”
Babimyna hummed to himself, “So you’re saying you have no intentions to work against us, is that it?”
Kurapika fixed him with an icy glare, “I’m saying I don’t care who you work for. If you become a threat to the Prince or Queen, I intend to kill you where you stand.”
Babimyna froze at that. Kurapika expected him to flare up, but instead, he turned to face Kurapika, huffing a bit in amusement, “I see. Well then, we have some common ground after all.”
As they stood there in tense silence, Shimano reemerged, “The room is ready. Furykov assured there were no listening devices, or anything else nefarious.”
Babimyna broke their standoff, turning with a casual wave, “Sounds good. We’ll go ahead and get settled.”
As Bill and Shimano left them to it, Bill turned to Kurapika, speaking quietly, “This is a problem…”
Kurapika turned away from the door where the two had disappeared, “Yes, but not entirely a bad one.”
Bill gave him a curious look, “What do you mean?”
Kurapika addressed them quietly as they retreated to the Queen’s room to update her on the situation, “It gives us leverage over the representatives from the higher princes. Their presence will keep people in line, and they have motives to work in our favor, at least for now,” as the two stared at him, he continued, “Currently, we don’t pose a threat to the First Prince. These classes provide them just as much opportunity to observe their adversaries and gather information as it does us.”
Bill hummed thoughtfully, “Still, we need to be careful around them.”
Kurapika nodded, “Of course, but I think they were telling the truth about their intentions. If they wanted to, they could have disposed of us already.”
Shimano glanced nervously at him, “Are they that strong?”
Kurapika shook his head, “No. I don’t know their abilities, but I’m pretty sure Bill and I would be more than a match for them. They’re soldiers, not Hunters. But they have authority through their prince. They could have had us arrested and held, and killed Prince Woble while we were indisposed. It would have been easy, really. So I believe they want a collaborative relationship, at least for now. With our intentions to defer the throne should we be one of the final remaining, combined with our knowledge on Nen, we have some cards of our own to play.”
As the Queen greeted them, and Bill filled her in, Kurapika thought to himself, still… Babimyna and Furykov are hardly the only ones we need to worry about. These classes may be our best chance, but they also make us a target. And if one of the people whose Nen we awaken develops a troublesome ability…
He looked over at Woble, as she took in the faces around her with wide, curious eyes, I may be the reason she dies… is this really… the right thing to do?
6 Days into the voyage, Lower Decks…
Chrollo stalked through the crowds, contemplating the words in the notebook for the hundredth time, the Fourth Prince of Kakin… a tall man of good build, blonde hair to his shoulders…
He gazed intensely at the haphazard drawing one of the girls had made. She hadn’t seen him too clearly, but she’d produced a decent likeness when compared to the photo Chrollo had managed to get off the Hunter website. Chrollo vacantly continued to the next girl’s notes, then the next after that, rumor has it he’s a voracious predator, with a preference for young girls and sophisticated young women… he likes intellectualism and the arts, but only as it pertains to him, and prides himself in his own genius… a collector of body parts and a self-proclaimed ‘connoisseur’ of the taboo, particularly that of a sexual nature… some of the high end women who serve the VVIPs say he hosts groups of women, but that they seldom return. The ones that do, return mutilated…
Chrollo stopped walking, becoming aware of how hard his heart was beating in his chest, a painful ache there as he stared at the next line with enough intensity one would think he could burn a hole through the book with his eyes alone, with their tongues, hands, and eyes removed… unable to communicate the horrors they experienced...
Chrollo snapped the book shut, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His head was swimming, and his chest ached with the wrath in his heart, of course, it’s just my luck things would get complicated. But… he steadied himself with another deep breath, feeling some tension release from his chest, perhaps I should consider this a blessing. Hisoka, and the Fourth Prince… I can tie up both loose ends while on this ship. One thing remains the same, he looked around, spotting a familiar, large figure sitting off to the side alone at a table, I have to reach the Upper Decks first.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, approaching the man who seemed to be waiting for him. Chrollo stepped up to the table, glancing around, “I told everyone to stay in groups.”
The man ‘hmphed’ around his drink, “Relax. Machi and Shizuku aren’t far. Besides, we’ve been going over Tier Five obsessively, but no cigar.”
Chrollo’s expression was blank, but his tone betrayed his displeasure, “Don’t grow complacent. Hisoka isn’t stupid. He’s crafty, and we shouldn’t assume he’s bound to a single Tier.”
The man gave him a gruff sound in acknowledgement, “Chrollo…”
Chrollo looked at him, he answered with an even tone, “What is it, Franklin?”
Franklin gestured for Chrollo to sit, sliding a glass over to him, “Care to join me? You and I haven’t shared a drink in a long time.”
Chrollo gazed at the glass, not moving from where he stood, “What do you really want?”
Franklin sighed, “That’s what I want to ask you. What’s going through that mind of yours? And why aren’t you letting us in?” he gave Chrollo a playful sneer, “Have some consideration, you know we can’t keep up with your thoughts. So don’t make us read your mind, yeah?”
Chrollo scowled, “Machi, sure. But I didn’t expect a lecture from you…”
Franklin chuckled, taking another drink, “We’re not your enemy, Chrollo.”
Chrollo took the glass, but he didn’t sit, “What are you rambling about…?”
He took a drink, and Franklin suddenly turned an intense gaze on him, “How many years has it been?”
Chrollo spoke around the rim of the glass, “About seventeen years, give or take a little.”
Franklin’s expression turned grave, “You can fool anyone else, but not us. So why keep up the act?”
Chrollo lowered the glass, meeting Franklin’s piercing gaze with a cold look of his own, “Like everyone else, I intend to make Hisoka pay for his treachery.”
They stared at each other for a long while, Franklin’s gaze scrutinizing Chrollo. Finally, he sighed, “Are you sure there isn’t something else on your mind? Come on,” he scoffed, “I know what it looks like when you’re unraveling…”
Chrollo was frustrated, but he kept his tone even, “Unraveling, huh?”
There was another long pause, and they both took a drink to calm down. Franklin continued, sensing Chrollo’s disposition change, “That’s not what I mean. But when you get like this, you shut us out, and you stop thinking as clearly. The others are too nervous to say it to your face, but they’re all thinking it, so I guess I’ll be the one to speak up,” he smirked, without amusement, “You tend to act rashly when you isolate yourself, and like you said, Hisoka isn’t someone we can afford to be sloppy with. You know better than anyone how dangerous he is.”
Chrollo watched him, silent and tense.
Franklin was quiet, meeting his intense gaze, “You give us your orders, and we follow them. We trust you,” Franklin stood up, his hand landing on Chrollo’s shoulder, though it covered most of his upper back. He gave Chrollo’s shoulder a firm squeeze, causing him to sway a little under the force, “So, try not to be so gloomy, yeah?”
He turned to leave, but he paused, “You know… Since I’ve already pissed you off,” Chrollo turned to look at him, “I’m a bit surprised. Back in Yorknew, you were the voice of reason. You reigned them in when they were hellbent on killing the Chain Bastard at any cost, even though he killed Paku and Uvo. What changed?”
Chrollo’s expression was dark, but Franklin’s gaze held no fear of him, “Firstly, the Chain Bastard didn’t kill Paku…” Franklin quirked a brow in question, so Chrollo continued, “Hisoka killed Paku. If it weren’t for him, we never would have crossed with the Chain Bastard.”
Franklin thought for a moment, “So that’s it, huh? You blame Hisoka for Paku’s death, too. I suppose that explains why you ran off to deal with him alone the first time around as well. You're making this personal...”
The look in Chrollo’s eyes signaled the end of the conversation was nearing, “Is what I said untrue, Franklin?”
Franklin sighed, “No, it’s not. Believe it or not, I understand your feelings. But,” they locked eyes in a tense, final exchange, “I don’t want to lose anyone else senselessly. That includes you, Chrollo.”
There was a tremble in Chrollo’s expression, so faint that very few would even notice it. Franklin was one of those few, “Think about it.”
Chrollo was left alone, staring at Franklin’s back as he walked away, seething in his own frustration and anger. He squeezed the notebook in his pocket, trying to shut out the noise of hundreds of voices speaking around him, grating further on his nerves.
He tried to quiet his mind, but his thoughts drifted in an unexpected direction, the Chain Bastard… Kurapika… we haven’t heard of him in a long time, the image of blazing scarlet eyes filled with hate flashed into his mind, I wonder how many he’s retrieved by now? Or perhaps he’s dead… Chrollo scoffed at himself, yeah, right.
Chrollo’s face dropped, though, as another image flashed into his mind. A single piece of paper, bloodied with a nail through it, its contents forever seared into Chrollo’s memory. He scowled at nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts as people brushed past him, the Scarlet Eyes… he gazed at the ceiling, as if he could see the Upper Decks before him, I’ll bet the Fourth Prince has quite a few in his possession, finally, he started walking, grateful that his thoughts were off Hisoka for a moment, that would mean this might be the Chain Bastard’s last shot at those particular eyes. Chances are, he’s on the ship too, he sneered at his own oversight, Franklin’s right, I do become a fool when I get like this… if he knows we’re here, it could be trouble. More trouble… Chrollo’s head began to throb, He’s a Hunter, he’d most likely be on the Upper Decks serving a VVIP, or even one of the Princes, if he was able to weasel his way in. But he’s also affiliated with the mafia through Nostrade, he remembered the loss of Neon’s ability in his book, he might even be the head of the family now, since the girl is dead. Her father would be disposed of without her ability. So… it’s possible that he may have connections on the Lower Decks, too. If he’s working with Hisoka again…
His blood began to boil, and so he shut his train of thought down. Chrollo headed towards the passage between Tiers Five and Four, his objective asserted even clearer now, fine, so be it. Three loose ends, all tied neatly together.
Meanwhile, at the Medical Room on Tier 3...
Leorio’s voice cut sharply through the room, “Hey, hey hey! You can’t be serious! The Phantom Troupe?!”
Mizaistom met his exacerbated face, “Yes, unfortunately, I confirmed it myself.”
Leorio looked between him and Cheadle, “All of them?! Even their leader?” Leorio muttered, mostly to himself, "I thought Kurapika crippled that guy's ability to use Nen..."
Mizaistom nodded, “Yes, even him. And it's safe to assume that's no longer the case. Currently, they’re stuck on Tiers Five and Four, but we should assume they’ll be able to breach the Upper Decks at pretty much any moment.”
Cheadle thought for a moment, “Then, why haven’t they?”
Mizaistom mused, “They have an objective-”
Leorio interrupted, “They’re not after Kurapika again, are they?!”
Cheadle waved a hand to hush him, and Mizaistom continued, “We can’t be sure… But we did learn that their primary target is Hisoka. Though, given their nature, I’m sure there’s more to it. They’ve involved the mafia in their search for Hisoka, which is how we learned about their presence and goals. Right now, we should assume there’s a reason they’re acting with some discretion. Perhaps it’s simply too early for them to show all their cards, they may be waiting until we’re closer to the Dark Continent to act.”
Leorio rubbed his temple, “Damn it… Those bastards are trouble. What does Kurapika think?”
Mizaistom hesitated, “Kurapika doesn’t know,” when Leorio’s face twisted, he continued, “...yet. Listen, Kurapika’s situation is precarious. If he loses focus, even for a moment, it could be the difference between life and death. Hisoka is on Tier 1, we have some time before they can reach him to come up with a plan.”
Leorio shook his head, “But if they’re hunting Kurapika again-”
Mizaistom nodded, “I know. That’s why I’m telling you. You’re his trusted friend, if anyone can make the judgement call whether to tell him or not, it’s you.”
Leorio sighed, remembering the reckless violence Kurapika exerted back in Yorknew. However, he also remembered that, in the end, Kurapika made the right decision, despite having every reason not to.
He looked up at Mizaistom, who was waiting patiently, “We have to warn him of the possibility. His skills are well suited to fighting them, but they know his abilities now, and if they took him by surprise while his attention was elsewhere… I don’t even want to think about it.”
Mizaistom fixed him with a serious look, “You understand… that if Kurapika flies off the rails over this, it could result in the death of Prince Woble due to his negligence, correct? Moreover, he’s our primary foothold amongst the Princes. He’s absolutely essential to the Hunter Association,” Leorio glared at him, “Do you think Kurapika understands the gravity of his actions right now? Or will he be driven by a personal vendetta?”
Leorio scoffed, “Of course he understands. What do you take him for, huh? Kurapika will make the right decision, I know he will. So we owe it to him to give him all the information he needs to do his best.”
Mizaistom was quiet for a moment, then he nodded, “All right. I concur with your judgement. I’ll inform him of their presence.”