An Amusing Interlude – Part 1: Confrontation – In which
acquaintances are renewed.
By
Deborah (Kosagi) Brown
Hunter X Hunter is copyright Yoshihiro Togashi. Quoll and Kurapika aren't mine more's the pity.
Quoll:
Some things are inevitable. Others chosen. I have to wonder which this is, as I gaze across the crowded diner at the young man who has just stepped through the door. Dressed in a light tunic, he looks no different from any other diner, except for the odd bracelet he wears, with its tiny chains connected to rings on his fingers. Kurapika.
His eyes search. Search and find me so quickly I know I'm their target. Now when my fortune told me to go east to meet someone, it didn't tell me it'd be him. I wonder if I'd have gone, otherwise?
I meet his gaze. There's no point in running. I could, of course, but he'd follow and even if I lost him now, he'd still be hunting. Still be on my trail. Better mine then the others, though. I'm the one he blames most, after all. The one bearing the greatest responsibility in his family's death. So, let him come. Let us see what it is Neon's prophecy means for me. If disaster, then so be it. At least now I know what it meant by amusing.
He walks up to the counter and sits. "Coffee," he says quietly. So, not here to fight, at least not yet. I nod, pouring a cup and putting it in front of him. "Cream? Sugar's right in front of you."
"Yes." His eyes avoid mine, as if he doesn't dare look at me without calling forth the Ruby Eye. I turn away, So, Lucifer Quoll, why don't you run after all? Run and give him a chase he will never forget? A chase that will keep him far away from the others. Keep him from hurting the Spider any further. I don't run, however, just get the cream from the refrigerator, take a few orders as I pass, and return to my grill.
My silent watcher buys supper and waits for me, pretending to read a book. It isn't until my relief walks in and takes over for me that he gets up and pays. His eyes meet mine and I can see their message. Meet him outside. Whatever. It's not like I have much to go home to.
He's standing at the corner near the diner, partially concealed in shadows. I walk past, pausing only long enough to allow him to join me. There's no point in commenting, though. He's the one who found me, after all. Let him make the first move.
My silence unnerves him, as it's intended to. "Why a cook?"
"Why not?" I ask, amused at the non-sequitur. He really doesn't care what I'm doing. The fact that I'm dressed in greasy whites, my hair stuffed into a net – those are things that mean nothing to him. The fact that I am the leader of the Genei Ryodan – no matter how much in exile I might be – is what matters, what sets us against each other, what makes him my enemy and what, likely, will make him the death of me. And I the death of him? I wonder.
"Yeah, I guess." He continues to walk. "I have questions I want answered, Quoll. Many questions. You're going to talk, this time. You don't have hostages to keep you safe."
I allow myself a small smile, gazing sideways at him. Such a beautiful boy. Mop of blonde hair, wide eyes that ought to hold all the innocence of the world and don't. Determined young face. His arms are hidden under his loose tunic, but I know from experience that they are strong. "You know perfectly well I don't care what you do to me."
"I don't know anything of the sort. That prophecy Neon told me she'd written one for you. You knew that you wouldn't be one of the dead, no matter what else happened. You said as much, then." He looks at me and I can see the flicker of rage in his eyes, the faint reddish glow that will soon, I know, turn to a hellish fire. Something in me wants to respond, to return rage for rage, but I cannot let it. "You can't know you'll survive this meeting."
"True," I admit. He's right that I hadn't feared him that night, any more than I fear him now. "But by the same token, my dying won't matter." I can see him growing tense and confused. He still doesn't understand. My life is nothing compared to the Spider's. I'd been fully prepared to die that night when he'd captured me. Would have embraced my death gladly if it meant my Spider lived. Instead, he stole them from me and locked away my nen. That I didn't die was only because Pakunoda had refused to accept it, had betrayed my rules and my plans to save the Spider. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if she hadn't. Considering that the Spider lives, albeit without me, perhaps her choice was the better one. My choices aren't always the right ones, after all. At least one such mistake had devastating consequences.
As we approach the edge of the city, I turn and watch my would-be killer. "Where?"
KURAPIKA:
I take a deep breath, conscious of my enemy's presence beside me, feeling my hatred rise. Damn him. I want to break that composure, want to beat some reaction out of him other then the empty eyed, empty souled, one he always shows. Something. ANYTHING, to show he's alive, damnit! I hold down the reaction, force myself to remain as composed as he is. "Further. It doesn't matter which way," I tell him at last, when it's clear he's allowing – no, forcing – me to take the lead.
"Very well" he answers, walking onwards. His voice holds nothing. No clue, no answers. Nothing. Damn him.
"Out of the city. Somewhere private." I gesture randomly, watching him, trying to see if that scores at all. There's only one reason to take him out of earshot of any possible watchers. Only one reason for privacy. He disappoints me, simply turning his footsteps in the direction I indicate.
The shadows darken around us. It was late night when I'd found him. It's much later, now, lit only by an occasional street lamp. The flickering light makes it difficult to really see his face, to see any expression at all, but my night vision is good. A boy's face. Too young for the years I know he bears. Neon told me he was 26. Not a child by any means – he must be using ten to keep young. In a way, I'm glad. I'd have trouble killing a child – even one who has committed the horror this man has on my people.
My people. All dead. All killed for the sake of the red brilliance that comes into our eyes in the heat of passion. All dead because of this man and the spider he rules. I want him dead. I want all of the spiders dead. They're evil. Cruel Crueler still in that their internal ties are so strong that even this man's death wouldn't end them. Not even taking him away from them, forcing him to avoid all contact on pain of death, has ended them. I just don't understand. Don't understand how they can care so much about each other but be so callous about the lives of those outside their little band.
We come to a halt in a place not unlike the one where I dealt with the first of their little group to die. Wide open space, dusty, with only a few sparse plants. It resembles a moonscape. I turn to look at him, at his calm, icy features. The light is enough to limn his pallor, turn it into something like porcelain. His eyes are on the moon, dark, empty of feeling and so huge they seem to take up most of his face. His hair, freed from its hair-net, falls loose around his face and there's a few specks of grease on his cheeks and forehead.
The last time I saw him he was better dressed, hair slicked back, perfectly placed. His face had taken some damage – I'd hit him a number of times when I'd had him in my power – but it had had much the same expression as it does now. In another man I'd call it sorrow. In him, I just don't know. I can't believe it's sadness – not in the man whose orders killed my people. Not in the man I hate. Sadness would mean humanity and his humanity is something I don't want to believe in.
He glances my way and ever so faintly I think I see amusement. He stands silent. Waiting. DAMN HIM.
QUOLL:
So this is how it's to be. A silent place, a quiet, dead place. Somehow befitting that my death will be in a place like this, given, of course that I'm inclined to submit. He's watching me, waiting for me to make the first move and growing angrier every minute I fail to do so. Still, I may not value my life, but I have no reason to make taking it simple for him. And many more reasons to be difficult. Ten of them, in fact, with Ubo gone and Hisoka never really being one of us.
He walks towards me, eyes glaring, beginning to glow a faint ruby at their depths. The eyes of the Kurota. The ruby glow that can burn the heart and shred the soul. Or would, had I been left a heart to burn – a soul to shred. The thing he has enchained is just a pump forcing life through my veins, nothing more. I wait, still watching him. Oh yes, he's beautiful, an avenging angel, swearing death on those he believes has wronged him. Only to be expected my Ryodan would bring down such hatred on its head in time. Only to be expected that my life will be forfeit.
"Talk."
"About?" I ask. "About the night skies? The wind? The truth?" At his expression I allow myself the faintest smile. "Yes, I know what you want. I'm just not inclined to answer, anymore than you are willing to tell me what Ubo said before he died." That scores. The last time we met he'd refused to tell me, pretended he didn't remember. The fire dies out momentarily and he looks away. I continue, relentlessly, "What do you expect? Shall I tell you how horribly I feel for the deaths of your people? Or say it was a terrible, regrettable, mistake? Or maybe I should tell you that the reason Kurota died is that they brought it down on their own heads?"
His fists clench and he moves at me, lashing out physically. Easy to avoid and I do it, dodging backwards. I wonder that he doesn't use his chain on me, does he think my lack of nen makes me helpless? Or have I simply infuriated him to the point that he can't control himself? It doesn't matter.
KURAPIKA:
I spin kick, scoring a blow on Quoll's arm. It would probably have broken a normal man's bone, but his ten helps him resist the blow. He grabs my foot, tosses it in the air and throws me backwards. Somehow, though, I manage to somersault and land a few feet away. I glare at him, wondering what he's going to do.
Oddly, he doesn't attack and I wonder why. Not that it matters. I'm too angry now to stop myself from trying to land a blow. Once more I rush forward, only a bit more cautiously than I had before. He's so damned fast and it occurs to me that blocking his nen hasn't made him that much less formidable. I ought to use Chain Jail on him. Ought to bring him down to earth as fast as possible.
My anger, however, is such that I simply can't choose that path. I want so much to drive my point home into his body. To make him understand just how much his Spider has hurt me. I'd hit him before, took out my rage on him when he was helpless and felt shamed and dirtied by doing so. This time he can at least defend himself from a physical attack. It's not a fair fight, not when I have the Chain Jail as a back up, but it's fairer than it was before.
I can feel my eyes beginning to glow, burning with the red fire that made my people the Spider's target. Even now I can't understand why anyone would want to own another's body part and the thought enrages me more, sends more heat into my eyes. I wonder that he isn't affected, as I swing at him again, managing to catch him in the stomach and knock him backwards. Most humans regard the Eyes as a thing of terror, as well as beauty. There is power behind the Eyes, though mine is untrained and mostly untapped. A power that can destroy the mind if allowed loose. Without even thinking about it, I do.
QUOLL:
Hmph. Not bad. I take a deep gasp of air, dodging Kurapika's fist as it aims for my jaw. He's a good fighter, I'll give him that much, but then he'd have to be to have become a Hunter. Still, I have a feeling he relies on his chains more in a fight. He's not quite used to a purely physical brawl, whereas I grew up, kicking, struggling and brawling. He is softer than I am, too. Less willing to hurt, even at the depths of rage. If I really wanted to kill him I could.
I can't afford to, though, even if I'd wanted him dead. His hatred for me, for my Spider, is intense. So intense that his dying might simply drag me down with him. I don't object to my death, but I do object to dying at someone else's whim. He wants me dead, that's fine, but I die when my ability to fight is finished and no sooner.
His eyes are beginning to glow now, and I can see why there are those who value their color. Not like mine. Passion in my eyes does not create such beauty, such brilliance, just pain for me and for my enemies. Not that I allow such passion to rule me. I cannot. I dare not. Not even the energies that flow from Kurapika's Ruby Eyes can be permitted to reach me.
I dodge sideways. It's time to end this fight before things go any further, before he makes me lose control. He's lost all sense if he's released the Eyes at the power level he has. Anyone else in the area would be in agony, unable to think or feel anything but the rage that pours off of him. I wonder if he knows that a crowd would have torn me apart at the behest of those eyes and decide it doesn't matter. I reach into my pocket, somersaulting backwards to evade his kick.
The powder I throw hits him in the face, sending him into a coughing fit. A second later he collapses. Unlike a certain Zoldick of my acquaintance, Kurapika is no powerhouse able to withstand a soporific without even blinking. He has no chance against the drug. I give it time to clear, then pick him up and carry him away.
To Be Continued
Author's Notes:
Spellings: Kurota is probably wrong. I've seen it rendered so many different ways though, that it's hard to figure out what it should be. I may fix it sometime. Quoll Well, I just can't resist using that spelling, considering that a quoll is a cute lil critter with absolutely huge eyes. Something in the chipmunk family, I think.
Kurapika: If he's a chipmunk then he's some sort of rodent. (goes to get the rat poison)
Quoll: . (hides in Kosagi's wig, ala Kodocha)