Chapter Text
Killua’s body, bruised and red, struggles to keep up; his legs are weak from his sprint to the hospital and his head pounds against his skull. He hopes it's enough to give Gon and Alluka a fighting chance. Long dark hair wisps behind the green-clad figure a few paces in front of him. Killua tries to block the figure, static zips across his skin while he throws himself forward, only to be thrown aside by the iron arm extending to push him away. The cold linoleum flooring. Empty metallic walls crowding each angle. A solid thud echoes throughout.
A set of double doors is the only barrier between life and death.
A girl’s small, delicate grip encompasses the gruesome sight of what's left of the boy’s hand being displayed to her. As the doors open behind her, light begins to pour from her body, sending a shattering quake of aura seemingly across the world.
An arm covers the figure’s eyes, only pausing slightly as it continues to step forward, Black hair whips and flies by, snapping back and forth. A sharp voice rings through the silence, both heads turn toward the swinging door.
“Alluka! Run!”
The staggering figure snaps its head back to Alluka, its body lunges forward, trying to grasp the wide-eyed girl.
Alluka releases her grip on Gon’s hand and stumbles back slightly, pushing the chair she was sat in to the ground.
“Take me somewhere no one will find me, Nanika!”
And just like that, she vanishes. The only remnant, a soot mark where her feet had just been.
It’s fingers curl into a fist and the arm he was so close to entrapping escapes unscathed.
“I’ll never let you touch her, Illumi…” Killua’s voice croaks through the heavy doors. A muffled thunk vibrates the floor under Illumi’s feet.
Killua’s body lays limp on the floor.
Illumi stares through the small plexiglass window, hate seethes behind his empty face, his stare dares not to look away. After a few moments of still silence, Illumi finally walks back out the doors, scooping Killua into one of his arms; he cradles him to his chest. Illumi stares at his kid brother's unconscious expression. Agony. Pure agony, and probably guilt. Illumi needs to teach this boy once more that guilt isn’t a Zoldyck quality, and as a Zoldyck, guilt is the poison to which they are not immune too. If you let guilt flow through your blood, you only weakon your resolve. Remorse is for the weak and Zoldycks are the lack of.
Illumi softly sighs, brushing a section of hair from Killua’s face. He pokes a finger lightly to the thin scar between Killua’s brow where he last placed a needle
“Tsk.”
Hewalks down the deathly quiet hall not even pausing to look back at the spot where he almost got hold of his prize. Until next time.
Footsteps pitter on the floor, echoing as he rounds the corner, bodies are strewn across the floor, needles in their skulls, they don't even earn a glance back. No remorse. He heads north.
A burning sun pelts its rays across the ruins of what appears to be a city. The world seems to be drowned out by the smell of fear– the sound of screams and shouts flood the air. Short quick breaths can barely be heard over the chaos surrounding its source. Alluka is shaken. Tears fall to the floor, hands are jammed into the sockets of her face to try and hold herself together as she begins to fall apart. Suddenly, her sobs come out violently and loud, and before she knows what's happening to her, a pale hand eclipses her vision and pulls her hands from her face.
In Alluka’s tear-blurred vision, all she can see are a pair of blue-green eyes framed by short blonde bangs. He reaches down, clasping her hands in one of his own; she can feel the texture of his calloused hand wrapped around her own. Her heart skips a beat and her instincts kick in— she pulls her arms away and begins kicking out her legs.
Her attempts are futile, as her body lifts off the ground, her wrists are gripped and held together while she swings in the air, legs flail but nothing comes out of it. Her head is level with his torso now and she can only see the lavender fabric with a few white details, some stained with dirt, others clean, others stained with drops of blood. The detail fills her head with fear.
“Oh Chrollooo-” the young man calls out, “I found something you’re going to like!” he begins to bend at the waist, lifting Alluka a little higher so his eyes are level with hers.
“I suppose I should introduce myself,” his eyes dance across her face, taking in all the details he can, “I am Shalnark, spider number 6, and it's an honor to meet you.” The corners of his mouth crawl his face. His eyes travel from Alluka’s face down to her throat where he can see her throat bobbing as she tries to swallow back her fear.
Footsteps fill her ears.
Nanika doesn’t like this.
Mmm, me neither, can you help?
Mmmkay.
Alluka chokes from the tension and coughs out a little puff of soot; Shal wafts it away with his hands. Shalnark is looking at the boots in front of him, his eyes travel up and make contact with Chrollo’s face.
“Can you let go, please?”
“Tsk.”
“Can you loosen your grip, please?”
Shalnark’s eyes roll and land on Chrollo’s face, his eyebrows raise, a jest to the little girl. Chrollo looks down at the girl, eyebrows tightening over the bridge of his nose. Shalnark’s eyes follow and widen.
Alluka’s face has shifted into a pale white silhouette with darkened features—empty blackened eyes and mouth—her nose is missing.
“Can you drop me, please?”
“I already said no, wha-”
Shalnark’s words get interrupted by a startling gasp of breath as the fingers on his hands start to peel away from the girls’ wrists and the joints of each finger begin to bend backwards.
That's enough, Nanika.
Mmmkay.
Right after his left ring finger snaps, his hands fall limp again and back into his control. His eyes go from filled with shock to filled with excitement and intrigue.
He grips his left hand and smirks towards Chrollo before walking away.
Nanika lets her control subside and Alluka takes it back, and tries to run. A large but weirdly familiar hand curls over her shoulder. Chrollo’s fingers tighten his grip and stop her before she can even start. Alluka turns with the force of his direction, and makes eye contact with him for the first time. There is something comforting about him—she can’t quite place if it’s his dark, unruly hair or the strong but gentle touch she receives from his hands. The power reminds her of home—her father. Her brothers too, but mainly her father, if she could even call him that. She was familiar with it, almost comforted, but she was scared, scared he could hurt her and punish her for being part of Nanika. Her vision tunnels as her eyes grow to what seems twice the size and she pulls back, violently.
He grasps her tighter now, with both hands.
“You’re a little Zoldyck aren't you? I’ve read my share of articles about the dangerous, forgotten son. You know-”
“Daughter.”
“...”
“Forgotten daughter, “ A smile crests on his lips, “You know just as well as I do that you are very, very powerful, Little Zoldyck,” Chrollo’s grip loosens, and his hands relax on her shoulders. Though every time Alluka glances down, she feels his hands tense up, ready to strike down on her if she dares try and run again.
“Who are you?”
His grin grows slightly larger, amusement dancing across his face; “Chrollo Lucilfer, at your service,” he ends his statement with a mocking bow, and pivots her shoulders, directing her to where he came and where Shalnark went. He follows behind her, hand still on her shoulder as he guides her.
A group of people stand a little outside of Alluka’s range of vision, she can see a blurry pink blob and a large blurred and burly figure in the distance. In her field of vision, Shalnark sits on a large sediment of rubble, his eyes locked on her. She can't help but shiver at the idea of his eyes on the back of her head the entire time. She trips up a little as the pressure on her shoulder carries on.
Chrollo leans down and whispers in her ear. “Don't worry about Shalnark, he’s harmless if you’re far enough away from him.”
As they get closer, Shalnark slides off the rubble, and meets them halfway, turning to a backwards pace to line up evenly with Chrollo before reversing his steps and joining pace.
Alluka’s eyes flicker from the ever-growing clarity of the people she is forcefully inched closer to, and the blonde to the right of her and her large shadow.
As the two figures from before come into view, she can make out another girl. She was the pink blob from the distance. Her hair is almost a bubble gum pink. Her arms are slim, her skin pale, and her face sharp. The hair on Alluka’s arms and neck stands rigid. The lady has turned to look at her now, and Alluka watches as her jaw tightens and eyes narrow. The lady’s hands appear to be spinning something, a strand of thread maybe, but Alluka can't see anything. She turns away, stomach flipping and discomfort growing. Instead, she refocuses her attention.
Alluka’s eyes flicker to the right where the gargantuan figure from before stands. His shadow eclipses her entirely. His ears hang down to his shoulders. He also seems to be wider than her own father, who before, was the burliest man she had ever seen. His hair is short, a blackish blue, and his jawline is square. Suddenly she recoils, her eyes flickering back and forth across his face. He glances down at her, and his eyebrows furrow. Stitches. They line his face, on either side of his mouth, and underneath, streaking down his chin. As she continues to scan his face he turns away, a puff of air leaving his nostrils. With a deep breath and with a nod to the pink lady, he walks away.
“Where is Nobunaga?” Chrollo asks.
Nobody answers him. Alluka feels his fingers bounce lightly on her shoulder.
“Machi, where is Nobunaga?”
The one with pink hair turns away, “No clue, boss, probably losing his temper on some poor piece of rubble.”
This gets a light chuckle from the huge man, and he turns back around, pointing to someplace on his right, behind a cracking tomb of a building.
“Thank you, Franklin,” Chrollo sighs.
Machi and Franklin. Alluka makes notes of their names and their faces. The latter of which should be no problem sticking in her memory.
She turns her head now to face Chrollo, and watches his face. She analyzes it. She wants to remember his face too. Her analysis is cut short as his head turns to Shalnark.
She didn't notice until now, but round earrings hang from his ears. A small smile curls at the edge of her mouth. Her hands travel to her hair, fingers grazing the orbs in it.
Without notice of any interjection, Shalnark releases a sigh and slips away to the back of the building. Shouts and ruckus erupt almost immediately before a man, who Alluka assumes is Nobunaga, walks out with Shalnark. His face is in a sharp scowl, his lip curled up in disgust. Shalnark is doubled over laughing while Nobunaga is sheathing his sword. The sheath sits on his hip, a belt wrapped over his robe. His hair is pulled back into a sleek topknot, the wrap jutting upwards.
Alluka’s stomach churns at the sound of laughter. The last time she heard that was with Killua, when he came to rescue her.
Chrollo reaches his other hand up and plants it on Alluka’s other shoulder. His thumbs rub up the back of her neck, before his grip tightens. A gesture of comfort perhaps? It feels reassuring to Alluka, like something Killua would’ve done.
“Loosen up, you’re safe here, we wouldn't want to hurt our guests,” Chrollo tells her in a volume loud enough for only her to hear.
She sighs and pulls her hakama up and smoothes the sleeves of her kosode, her own subtle comfort.
She watches as he looks back up to the troupe and stares them down; Machi is the first to notice, followed close by Shal, Franklin, and lastly, Nobunaga who is still throwing his small fit at Shalnark.
They all look at Chrollo, before they come forward in a semi-circle around him.
She swallows—hard. The sudden focus on her throws her nerves into chaos and her heart starts pumping faster than she knew it could.
Leave.
Mm, no not yet.
Don't like.
Alluka ignores Nanika’s whispers. Her eyes scan the four people in front of her before she instinctively takes a step back into Chrollo. She can hear a small chuckle leave him, and her face gets hot and her posture immediately shoots straight.
“This is Alluka Zoldyck. The forgotten daughter of the Zoldyck family of assassins, and our newest member of the phantom troupe.
Shock not only echoes throughout the troupe, Machi in particular, but through Alluka as well.
“What? Phantom Troupe? My father said to stay away.”
“You are safe here, haven't we shown you more hospitality than your own father? Surely the freedom and community we can build with you is better than being alone, isn't it?" He coos.
Alluka looks up at Chrollo and pulls back; his arms extend without breaking contact with her shoulders so she can get more space between them.
“What about Nanika?” She whispers.
“Nanika?” Chrollo whispers back.
“You saw her earlier. If you want me to join, then she has to be welcomed as well.”
His chest rises in a deep breath, “Very well,” he looks up to the rest of the troupe, who have been patiently waiting for him to address them.
“Alluka, and Nanika, will be joining the troupe as of today. Welcome them. If I hear of a single one of you trying to fight with her because she is new, you’ll be expected to face those consequences. Fighting is not allowed amongst each other. Disputes must be settled with a coin toss. That goes for you as well, Alluka.”
Alluka looks up at him and nods. “And Nanika…”
Chrollo smiles, “And Nanika.”
She turns away and instantly makes eye contact with Machi who’s eyes sharpen at the eye contact with her. She looks away, no longer wanting to make any eye contact with the pink lady, and looks towards the rest of them. Shalnark seems ecstatic, while the other two seem to care less.
Movement towards Alluka catches her gaze and as she looks towards the source, its Machi as she has begun to walk forward.
Chrollo’s grip on Alluka’s shoulders eases.
Machi sticks her hand out, “Im Machi, Nice to meet you, Alluka Zoldyck."