A HunterXHunter Fanfic (Part XI)

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII
Part IX
Part X

September 4th, YorkNew City, 10:00PM

Nijiiro's head slammed into the moon-roof of a richly upholstered white sedan with fake plates before landing on the generously proportioned memory-foam seat. Face down in the leather, she could sense it smelled ever so slightly of new car and old blood. Her favorite.
“You can't slam the hostage around like that!!” Leorio snapped, hurling himself into the driver's seat, and buckling his safety belt. For...you know, safety.
“Shut up!” Kurapika snapped back, “He's lighter than I thought he'd-” He stopped, as Nijiiro wriggled into an upright position, and her hood fell back to reveal her rather feminine face.
“Domo,” Nijiiro replied gregariously. Kurapika's eyes widened for a second, his gorgeous pink lip curled with a moment's frustration before the cold adrenaline regained control of his thought process.
“Drive!” shouted Kurapika, and Leorio whipped into action at once. The car lurched forward, its momentum slamming the open car door shut and causing several vehicles around them to slam on their horns anxiously. Nijiiro was thrown backward into the seat with a grunt, and she knew it was a moment she couldn't afford to waste. She twisted her broken hand painfully far, or just far enough to let the phone tucked inside her sleeve slide down into the gap between the seat cushions and the upright cushions of the luxury car's interior. She'd need to retrieve it quickly, but it was better than the Kurta getting his hands on the information it might reveal in its unlocked state. If it remained untouched for a full five minutes, it would automatically re-lock its screen, among other security measures, but Nijiiro had no way of knowing when or how invasive a bodily search might be coming. With great effort, Nijiiro wound the cord of her earbuds around her fingers and shoved the headphones into the gap behind the mobile. All in less than two seconds. 'I definitely deserve a medal this time.' she thought. She instinctively drew a deep breath as the chains around her tightened down against her body. Her arms were forced to her sides, and her knees were pulled together awkwardly, inviting her to squirm but giving her almost no room to do so. Her heart began to race as the reality of where she was set in. She was in the middle of it. Her own opera. The danger was palpable, the score comprised only of traffic sounds and her own pulse as it jumped frantically in her throat. Her mouth began to salivate, and she fought the urge to make a noise that implied a minimal sense of humanity. She looked at Kurapika as she felt her aura dissipate, rendering her into a helpless state of Zetsu. Her heart began to race even faster, and she wondered if the total loss of her control of the situation would bring about an untimely anxiety attack. But under the agitation, another part of her body began to feel her quickening pulse. As he looked Nijiiro over, Kurapika's aura crackled and turned with rage, a white-hot glow that forced its way through the surface of his Ten like lava that churned freely under a thin, cracked layer of solid rock. Nijiiro felt the fabric of her panties begin to dampen and cling to her body, hating the urge to moan and her urge to stifle her moans in equal measure. She turned away and looked out of the window, trying to regain control of her breathing.
“That's not the man you were targeting, is it?” Senritsu asked calmly, even though the anxiety in the car was deafening. “Who is she?”
“Doesn't matter,” Kurapika replied brusquely. “She'll be a hostage, or she'll die. And that's all there is to it.” Nijiiro laughed quietly. 'There's more to it, Golden Boy. A lot more,' she thought, staring out of the rain-spattered glass. Her nether regions twitched incessantly in a bid for something her conscious mind could not yet name. “Is there something funny about that?” Kurapika hissed, and Nijiiro couldn't stop herself from turning her head just enough to cast a sideward glance at his dour expression and the incredible aura which surrounded it.
“My name...is Nijiiro,” she said, slightly out of breath, “but my friends call me Saisho...”
“I am not your friend,” Kurapika growled. Nijiiro smiled and closed her eyes.
“Ah, you're ever so cold,” she said, turning her head to look at him properly. “Have I, perhaps, done something to upset you?”
“Don't assume that I am calm enough to sit here and endure your taunts,” Kurapika said darkly, “The next words out of your mouth could be your last.”
“I'm quaking in my boots,” Nijiiro said, continuing to smile. She was indeed shifting in her seat, but not exactly out of fear. “Are you really a woman?”
“Did I ever say that I was?” Kurapika spat, swiftly removing his wig and wiping the pink stains, hastily created by a red cinnamon candy from the hotel lobby, from his frowning mouth.
“No, but I've trimmed my nails just in case,” Nijiiro said, leaning in closer to Kurapika in her seat. In the front seat, Leorio cleared his throat and tried his best to concentrate on traffic. Senritsu frowned intently and thought, 'What an absolute deviant...' but ultimately said nothing.
“Whatever...sort of nonsense you are spouting-” Kurapika began, acutely aware that he didn't actually understand the provocation she offered.
“I'll explain it to you when you're older,” Nijiiro answered wryly, without missing a beat.
“Shut up! Don't continue to test my patience with you!” Kurapika snarled, and his chains tightened around Nijiiro harshly. “You'll find I'm at my limit.” Nijiiro gasped and writhed as the cold metal pressed sharply into her flesh. She strained against the chains and bit her lips to keep a series of low, desperate moans behind them. There was a yearning ache building between her legs that became more insistent by the second, and she twisted against it hopelessly. The pain in her broken hand had given way to numbness, as the severe swelling dampened the efficacy of her peripheral nerves. She was dimly aware that the clamant throbbing in her lower bits would need to be sated or risk ruining her concentration, and in this dangerous and turbulent situation, no less.
“I seem to be...at my limit...as well...” Nijiiro panted, looking at the ceiling but thinking about the tension in her nipples. 'What is...wrong with me...' she thought, licking her lips, and pressing her eyes closed tightly.
“Hah! You think a little claustrophobia will make me loosen these chains for you? If you can mouth off, you can breathe, which means I'll be tightening them until you shut it and behave yourself. If you want to keep breathing, you should shut up immediately. I won't be showing mercy, even if you ask for it.” Kurapika said, his eyes wide and his mouth serious.
“Wouldn't...dream of it,” Nijiiro answered, her voice raw with sensation.
“Uh, I don't think she has-” Senritsu said softly, her round face flushed.
“Quiet!” Kurapika yelled back. Nijiiro smiled, knowing how quickly her fun would end if Kurapika knew how...captivated...she truly was inside his chains.
“But-” Senristu began, and Nijiiro, acting instinctively, threw the rapier-sharp end of her boot heel through the passenger seat, the tip emerging on the very top edge of Senritsu's ear. Senritsu started and turned about in her seat as she felt the sharp metal graze her skin.
“No spoilers, Senritsu-san,” she hissed, her rainbowed eyes practically glowing in the darkened backseat. Kurapika wrapped more and more of his Nen chains around Nijiiro until she could barely move.
“Did you not hear what I just said?!” Kurapika barked as he shook her bound form at the end of the chain roughly, his eyes beginning to flash red. Seeing the burning scarlet color from barely a meter away had a profound effect on Nijiiro's body temperature, and she shivered in spite of the warmth that flushed her pale face.
“Ah!” Nijiiro sputtered, her muscles a little sore from struggling against the intense weight and pressure of Kurapika's chains.
“You will regret that,” Kurapika snarled from across the sedan's plush tan cab.
“I regret it...already,” Nijiiro gasped, “Hah...Now this...is a proper torment... You must be very nettled...Is it because my Spiders murdered your entire clan and tore the eyes from their dead skulls?”
“You fucking scum! You think I won't end your life?!” Kurapika screamed, drawing out his judgment chain. Nijiiro realized she was staring at his lips as he said this, wondering what the faint cinnamon sugar candy smears might taste like on them.
“Kurapika! Don't listen to taunts right now!” Leorio warned from the front seat.
“Ouch. That hurt my feelings. Now we're both in the wrong,” Nijiiro smirked, feigning an air of regret. “Besides, you've left your dear little friends behind, haven't you? I know you won't.” Kurapika's face became a little colder, but appeared all the more menacing for it. He muttered something and looked out the window, trying to regain control of himself and struggling. She licked her lips as the blood in her body rushed to every organ except the one that could think her way out of this. She needed to let the steam out, before she went crazy, and for that, a little manipulation was in order. Using what minuscule degree of mobility the chains still allowed, Nijiiro wiggled until her head fell into Kurapika's lap, her disheveled silver mane spilling over his knee and her eyes staring into his from behind her veil. Kurapika turned with a look of abject disgust, questioning her sanity while too surprised to say it aloud, but Nijiiro spoke softly before he could move to shove her back off of his person.
“Hey...Kurapika...Do you...want to kill me?” she said, her tone all seriousness. She squirmed against his chains, feeling the slick moisture that had crept down the inside of her thighs spread an inch farther. He smelled so good.
“You...are completely insane...” he said slowly. Nijiiro sighed with relief. 'He's probably right,' she thought.
“I must be,” she said softly. “You see, when I imagined what the proud avenger of the Kurta might look like, I thought of an intimidating sort of person with enough power to bravely fight my Spiders vis-a-vis. But what do I find instead?” Nijiiro's condescending smirk widened into a toothy condescending grin. “A lipstick-wearing pantywaist who can't even kill a defenseless woman quite literally within his grasp. I pity your clan, who must be rolling in their graves about now...” Burying her face in his shirt, Nijiiro felt the well-defined muscles in Kurapika's abdomen bunch as his rage built to a fever pitch. She was so close. “I bet your insides taste like fucking cotton candy...” she moaned softly, flicking her tongue out over the fabric of his shirt for emphasis. Just one more push until he broke, one little sentence until he went over the edge. “...So...would you like to know which of your relatives were cowards, too?”
Kurapika let a ferine shriek that could hardly be described as human and his chains wrapped themselves around Nijiiro's neck. He seized the ends of them as with a garrote wire, and pulled sharply, pinning Nijiiro's entrammelled figure down between his legs as she struggled against his weight and forceful asphyxiation. She drank in the sight of his sanguine eyes, utterly taken by their vibrancy, and her hips thrust forward impulsively even as her eyes rolled back. Nijiiro came silently, her cries of ecstasy muted completely by Kurapika's relentless stranglehold, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water, until darkness began creeping into the edges of her vision. Her spent body quickly became too heavy to struggle against him, even though her insides continued to twitch and contract eagerly. She was vaguely aware of the car being pulled over, and some shouting being exchanged as the car door was wrenched open from the outside.
“Kurapika! KURAPIKA! Hey! If you kill her, I swear to god I will beat you senseless!” Leorio shouted, dragging Kurapika off of Nijiiro's prostrate form. He sighed with relief when he saw her chest rise and fall once, and she coughed and wheezed her way back to full consciousness. She sat up arduously, feeling a little dizzy but very satisfied.
“GODDAMIT!” Kurapika roared, punching a large dent in the trunk and causing the whole vehicle to bounce on its axles. He climbed back into the backseat of the car and slammed the door so hard the interior handle snapped off in his grip. He flung the broken handle onto the floorboards and glared at it for several minutes while they drove in sullen quietude. Senritsu was the first to break the silence.
“You are really...a seriously abnormal individual,” she frowned, looking at Nijiiro in the rear-view mirror. “I can't believe you'd actually...stake your life...on...” Senritsu furrowed her brow, not sure how to describe what she'd witnessed.
“I regret nothing,” Nijiiro replied coyly, her voice a little raspy. 'Now that...that...is out of the way...' Nijiiro thought, still wanting another round but leery of the odds regarding her survival. He had very nearly crushed her windpipe.
“Good,” said Leorio sternly, glancing back at her in the rear-view mirror for a second, “because if you decide to goad him again, I won't be dragging him off of you a second time. Treat your life more preciously in the future.”
“Why? Because I could die? Death isn't nearly as frightening as you seem to believe,” Nijiiro said gently.
“Say that once you've done it,” Kurapika growled, still staring at the floorboards.
“Oh, but I have,” Nijiiro replied, in the same gentle voice, “...twice.” Kurapika let out a harsh laugh, one that sounded more like a bark. It was a sound full of bitterness.
“If you insist on this, this babbling of falsehoods-” Kurapika said slowly.
“She's not lying,” Senritsu interjected. The air in the car seemed a little colder, all of a sudden. Kurapika leaned forward, to where Senritsu sat with her eyes wide and staring.
“...What are you talking about?” he whispered.
“She's telling the truth. Her heartbeat is honest, and completely undisturbed by any of this...she's...simply not afraid to die...I can hear something in her that eludes death...it's feral and savage... It's – it's haunting and lonely, dark, deep and fierce like, like a storm. It's frightening, like...endless screaming from some ancient time! What is this madness?! This sound...This sound isn't human! This is the accursed howling of some wild creature!! I don't want to hear this anymore!” Senritsu closed her dull brown eyes and turned away, seemingly overcome with sensory data.
“Well said,” Nijiiro commented nonchalantly. “I'm glad I didn't kill you earlier, goblin.” Senritsu flinched and looked up into the rear-view mirror indignantly.
“You...what kind of monster are you...?” Kurapika said, his aura showing its first shred of uncertainty.
“A Spider, of course,” Nijiiro said smiling humorlessly. It had been a long day, and it was only going to get longer from hereon. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the car window, watching Kurapika's face closely in the reflective surface. The pivotal objectives of her plan could still be achieved, and she had now formulated a decisive stratagem by which to achieve them. It brought her no satisfaction.
“You had better hope your Spider friends value your life more than you do,” Kurapika scowled.
“I wouldn't count on it,” Nijiiro said in the same sober tone, her mouth a crooked frown, “I may the founder and all, but I'm not nearly as popular as you might think. Too bad you couldn't get the acting Boss. He's infinitely more valuable. Handsome, too.” She let a wistful sigh.
“Kurapika, we have to arrange the exchange soon,” Leorio said anxiously. Kurapika patted down Nijiiro's pockets in search of a phone, but came up empty.
“Looking for something?” Nijiiro purred innocently.
“Your cell phone, you reprobate. Where is it?” Kurapika said coldly.
“Three guesses,” Nijiiro smiled, twisting her shoulders forward in a way that accentuated her buxom anterior. Leorio cleared his throat again rather loudly and squinted at oncoming traffic as though he didn't trust it.
“I don't guess,” Kurapika said sternly, purposefully ignoring the hint. He pulled out his dowsing chain, only to discover that Nijiiro did indeed have a cellular phone hiding somewhere amid her ample cleavage. Nijiiro began to laugh then, slowly at first but quickly giving way to a loud cackling not unlike that of an excited hyena.
“Kurapika?” Leorio asked, looking back at the grinning Spider and her decidedly vexed captor. “Uh, if I could, er, help with anything back there, I'm willing to-”
“Just keep your eyes on the road, Leorio. And you,” Kurapika snapped, turning back to Nijiiro, “Not another fucking word out of you, until you're told to speak, or you'll be traveling the rest of the way behind this car, understood?” He held up his Nen chain for effect.
“Yes, Daddy,” Nijiiro said, leaning forward obsequiously. It occurred to Leorio that not one of the people in the car, including him, would really be able to handle this particular young lady's unique personality. In fact, she seemed poised to twist any one their minds into absolute lunacy at a whim, even though her body and Nen were both bound in full. Kurapika pulled Nijiiro's coat open, feeling gently across the fabric of her shirt until he felt the outline of the phone's rectangular casing, and then, looking pointedly away from Nijiiro's smug face, reached in between her sizable bosoms to draw out the thin device that sat directly against her skin, beneath her underthings. It was very warm in his hand, and he tried not to think about the sweet jasmine scent that clung to it as he tried to power it on. The screen that glowed in his palm looked like a cross between a strobe light and a kaleidoscope, and he realized, much to his own chagrin, that he must have crushed it when he'd attempted to murder her a few minutes ago. Nijiiro watched him struggle for a long moment, before...
“...That's alright. I've got a spare in my boot,” she said cheerfully. Kurapika's eyes flashed their brilliant scarlet fire yet again, his mouth parting slightly in disbelief.
“You could've mentioned that earlier!” he shouted, snatching it easily from the top of her right boot. His face was flushed again, and it made her inner hedonist smile.
“You could have bought me dinner first,” she retorted, enjoying the quivering rage that brought out his beautiful blazing eyes. She could look at them forever. She knew that if she didn't stop tormenting him soon, however, she'd be seeing them for the rest of her life. Kurapika scowled at her contacts list. It was long, bizarrely long, and unintelligible, but thankfully there was a number listed under “Nobu”, which Kurapika fervently hoped referred to the one known as “Nobunaga.” He dialed and waited. A deep, gruff male voice picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” said Phinks suspiciously.
“My demands are threefold. The general rule is that my demands are absolute. If you don't obey, I will kill your founder. The first is that you do not attempt to follow me. The second, is that you will not harm the two hostages in any way. The third, is that you will put the woman named Pakunoda on the phone.” Kurapika spoke with absolute confidence, even though his unfocused eyes were bouncing slightly in their sockets, a classic sign of repressed anxiety Nijiiro could spot with ease.
“Before that, can I ask you one thing? It's about the second demand...The hostages put up a struggle, and so we had to break a few bones...” Phinks said slowly, a malevolent grin perceptible in his voice, even across the phone line.
“Then we're done negotiating.” Kurapika said, ending the call abruptly. Nijiiro laughed softly.
“That's the problem with running a circus, you see, the clowns never get along,” she murmured, having some idea as to what manner of discussion might be taking place among the Spiders at that very moment. The phone rang in Kurapika's hand.
“What?” Kurapika answered frostily.
“Sorry. That was a lie. The hostages are fine,” Phinks muttered, jarred by the realization that the 'chain-user' wasn't thoroughly daunted by him, and would not act as such.
“This is your final warning. Do not fool around, or I will kill your founder. Put Pakunoda on the phone, now,” Kurapika commanded.
“Hello?” Pakunoda's sullen voice said, hesitantly.
“You're the only one permitted to hear what I am about to say. Move away from the others,” Kurapika said. There was a slight pause, while Paku presumably complied with his instructions. Nijiiro found herself fairly surprised that no one had blown a fuse yet, and refused to let the others cooperate. It was bound to happen, and sooner than later. Nijiiro closed her eyes and concentrated on escaping Kurapika's chains, and Chrollo's soon after. “...Have you made contact with a man named Squalla?”
“Yeah,” replied Paku.
“Then you know of a woman named Senritsu, too?”
“...Yeah...”
“Then I can make this brief. Listen carefully to what I say. You are forbidden from communicating with the others. No using Nen. No talking, writing, signaling, gesturing, or making eye contact. None of that is allowed. Understood?”
“I understa- Danchou, wait!” Pakunoda's voice faded, and another voice, as smooth and dark as Italian coffee, took its place.
“What is it that you want?” said Chrollo, far too calmly. The look in his eyes certainly didn't correlate.
“Hand the phone back to Pakunoda, and move away,” Kurapika said sternly. 'Here we go' Nijiiro thought. Her instincts told her, accurately, who was interrupting the call. And that he would not be moving away.
“No.”
“The offer I am prepared to make is heavily predicated on your ability to adhere to my demands without question. I have your found-”
“You have my wife,” Chrollo spoke through the receiver, his tone running deeper than original sin. Kurapika's eyes widened ever so slightly and he turned to look at Nijiiro. She smiled back at him, until he saw the plain gold wedding band encircling the correct finger on her glove-less left hand, for the first time. The car's interior seemed to tilt a little.
“Kurapika? What's wrong?” Senritsu turned around worriedly. The emotional range of Kurapika's heart had suddenly begun bouncing around like a bottle rocket in a closed coffee can.
“...In any case, you should understand that we are now on equal footing. The penalty for further insolence is singular: our negotiations are over. My demands-”
“What are your demands? I have no desire to repeat myself in this manner.” Chrollo replied, keeping his voice very level.
“Pakunoda will-”
“Pakunoda will remain with the Ryodan. Whatever impetration you intend to make, will be made to me. I alone will take responsibility. Consider this a demand, if you will, because it is not negotiable. And as the leader of the Gennei Ryodan, my cooperation is of more value to you, is it not? It is far better for both of us this way. So state your demands.”
“...Very well, under the prerequisite that Pakunoda adheres to the commands I have already given her, I will accept your involvement...for now. You will not speak to or communicate with any other member of the Ryodan. You must come alone, to the place I designate. If your heart rate changes, even in the slightest, I will kill the hostage. Now give the phone to some one besides Pakunoda,” Kurapika said, the shift in his confidence imperceptible to anyone but Nijiiro and, to lesser extent, Senritsu. There was a slight pause, before Kurapika continued issuing instructions to the next Spider.
“Here,” said Nobunaga.
“I'll be meeting with your leader, alone. The rest of the Ryodan must return to your hideout immediately. All remaining members must be there. If even one is missing, at any point, I will kill the hostage. If any of you attempt to use Nen, I will kill the hostage. Understood?” Kurapika said slowly, to which Nobunaga grunted his assent. He felt as if he were missing something. But even as his mind ran back and forth around the situation, from every imaginable angle, everything was proceeding exactly as it should. Aside from nearly killing his hostage, of course, but there was no time to dwell on that aspect just yet. She was still alive, at least. He glanced over at Nijiiro. She was looking out the window, lost in her own thoughts, or so it appeared to Kurapika. In reality, she was using her incomprehensibly precise vision to watch his expression in the reflective glass, absorbing data about him and his companions the way a sponge might passively absorb any liquid into which it was set. 'He's probably thinking something along the lines of things-are-going-well-and-maybe-too-well...ah, but don't worry, Golden Boy, you're right on both counts. Things are going to go exactly as planned, whether you like it or not, and they're going too well, because it was never your plan to begin with. All in good time.' “Give the phone back to your leader,” Kurapika commanded.
“Speaking,” said Chrollo, somehow perfectly conveying that he was in no mood to do so.
“You will come to Ringon airfield, by eleven o'clock. You must come alone. I will contact you again with further instructions.” Kurapika hung up without bothering to confirm whether Chrollo intended to follow his instructions. The air in the cab felt almost suffocating, and for some reason, the thought of having to call the leader of the Gennei Ryodan again was as thoroughly uncomfortable a prospect as he'd ever faced. He drew a deep breath.
“Just wait until you meet him,” Nijiiro said softly, as if she were reading Kurapika's mind in real time. “He's even more attractive in person.” She smiled at the dissatisfied expression on Kurapika's delicate features. Of course, Kurapika was equally attractive, in Nijiiro's book, albeit in a radically different way. Her legs were starting to go numb, the Nen chains wrapped around being far too tight, although she couldn't bring herself to complain. The aura surrounding them, and Kurapika himself, was a thing of staggering beauty.
“Didn't I tell you to can it already?” Kurapika intoned, with considerably less venom than before. The fact that she was half of a married couple had certainly thrown him for a loop, and he realized why. She was his age. The founder of the Gennei Ryodan, which had existed for a minimum of six years now, was probably no more than twenty, which meant... He looked her over again, from her silver hair, her strange veil, the soft, full pouting lips that sat like a dark rose on her pale face, and finally to the livid maroon bruises on her white throat which were growing darker by the minute, clear outlines of his Nen chains visibly stamped into her flesh. Clear proof that his grasp of the Gennei Ryodan, and how it operated, was timorous at best. 'None of that matters,' he thought, facing forward in his seat and straightening his posture, 'Nothing changes the fact the they massacred my people. I'll learn as much or a little about them as is necessary to defeat all of those responsible. My objectives are no more and no less than the total annihilation of the ones who call themselves the Gennei Ryodan...'
“You certainly did...But if were to stay silent, I wouldn't be able to answer the question you're about to ask,” Nijiiro answered confidently. Kurapika's mouth, which had opened slightly to ask the aforementioned question, clamped shut again, his jaw tightening with uncertainty. He refused to be spooked by serendipitous guessing.
“What question would that be?” he quizzed, unintentionally admitting that there was indeed a question on his mind.
“The answer,” Nijiiro continued, “is that while I am indeed the founder of the Gennei Ryodan, in the dictionary sense of the word, and I could, perhaps, tell you the names and abilities of those involved in the massacre of the Kurta, neither threat nor supplication on your part will earn you shred of useful information. Give up now.”
“What?” Kurapika growled in response. She had anticipated the question, all right.
“Allow me to phrase it in a way that you might understand better,” she said, turning to face him with an eerie grin. Her eyes seemed to glow behind their veil, and Kurapika resisted the impulse to distance himself from his ostensibly helpless captive. “Go to hell, dipshit.” Kurapika felt the words as much he heard them. His heart began to pound, and Senritsu wheeled around in her seat.
“What happened?!” she squeaked emphatically, searching for evidence of a deadly struggle of some kind. For the first time since they'd met, Kurapika's heart had gone full-tilt towards terror. 'It can't be...it's a coincidence...she can't be using any kind of ability, not with my Chain Jail around her. Casually speaking the last words of her fellow Spider just to toy with me is certainly possible, but the only one with knowledge of what his last words were is I, and even if her Nen ability is similar to Pakunoda's she has no way to use it right now. All of these...coincidental responses...are far from magical, but even so, she seems to have a remarkable read on me. Killua mentioned as much earlier, but now it's obvious that whatever she's doing is not a Nen ability. Superhuman abilities like telepathy and precognition aren't possible while she's captured, so if I refuse to let her under my skin and stay calm, her ability to manipulate the situation will be nil.'
“Do you honestly believe you're in control, Kurapika?” Nijiiro said, breaking his concentration entirely. He swallowed. She might be able to follow his train of thought, but it wouldn't undo her paralysis.
“I believe it's time for you to stop talking,” he said darkly. She was clearly doing this to rattle him, which meant the last thing he should do would be to begin doubting himself.
“And here we finally getting on so well, you and I,” she cooed, an artificial layer of saccharine sweetness laid over her voice.
“Please don't even insinuate that you and I have anything in common,” Kurapika chided.
“More than you think, Kurta,” Nijiiro countered, surprising herself by voicing aloud what she had perhaps meant to keep silent.
“...What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” Kurapika inquired slowly. He wondered whether she would simply use the opportunity to continue jeering at him, but her sober tone hinted at something else entirely. She was quiet for a moment, as she scrambled to tell the truth, without revealing anything that could endanger the success of her plan. She settled for the most obvious truth of all.
“I get the feeling that neither of us cares much for body snatchers,” she asserted, “and for much the same reason.”
“Body snatchers?” Kurapika asked, not familiar with the term. He knew he'd heard it somewhere before. Senritsu cleared her throat. Nijiiro saw Senritsu's face make a decidedly guilty twitch every time the phrase was spoken aloud. There could be no doubt. 'Interesting...so she's one, as well,' mused Nijiiro. How delightfully unexpected.
“It's a...colloquial term for hunters of human trophies,” Senritsu explained.
“I knew you were a liar, a barbarian, and a thief, but isn't that a little too much?” Kurapika snarled. She was mocking him yet again, and he'd nearly fallen for it this time. “That you would actually try to say-”
“Amazing, Kurapika... Everything you've just uttered...is completely wrong,” Nijiiro offered earnestly, shaking her head. “I'm not a professional thief, nor am I as brutishly uncultured as you seem to think. And I never lie.”
“I look forward to shutting your mouth permanently,” Kurapika said angrily, “and if I have to hear one more pathetic con out of you...”
“She's not lying,” Senritsu sputtered suddenly.
“Senritsu, you can't be serious,” Kurapika hissed, “whatever sounds her heart make, her words are objectively false.”
“Be that as it may... Just like lies, honesty has its own sound. Her heart has held a rhythm of absolute honesty, from the very beginning. I don't think she has any intention of lying, either. She's saying what she believes is the complete and utter truth.” Kurapika made a pained expression.
“I see,” he groaned to no one in particular, “she's a lunatic who believes her own lies.” Nijiiro sighed.
“I'm a lunatic of a very different kind. Why don't you take this veil off and see for yourself?” she suggested gently, her voice almost a whisper. Kurapika's curiosity soared in tandem with his uneasiness. She had invited him to do it, which suggested danger, but also had no way to follow through with a surprise attack, given that her Nen was completely sealed. Even if the removal of the veil was a precondition for some sort of Nen attack, the attack wouldn't be able to form without releasing the chains on her body. On the other hand...Kurapika had assumed that the veil hid a sort of damage or blemish that Nijiiro was keen on concealing. He was certainly intrigued to know what it could be, if it were otherwise... 'No, I can't take an unnecessary risk like that,' Kurapika thought, before looking up to find his own hand clutching the end of the velvet ribbon that held her veil in place. He tugged it loose, and the scrap of white tulle and lace slid off easily. Nijiiro sat for a moment, her eyes still closed. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself,” she said, “but given the way that...extenuating circumstances... beget a certain, necessary degree of disbelief on your part...I'll say it just one more time. I do not lie.” She opened her eyes and looked at Kurapika. Senritsu gasped.
“What the hell is-” Leorio blurted loudly, nearly slamming into the back of a heavy truck attempting to switch lanes in front of them. He hit the brakes suddenly, and the entire car pitched forward, nearly spilling Nijiiro out of her seat. Kurapika seized both of Nijiiro's shoulders roughly, to keep her in place, and wound up staring directly into her prismatic irises. It was like a magnetic force was dragging him inward, although not in a physical sense. He had to tear himself away, or risk sinking into the inescapable metaphysical tar pits that stared at him from Nijiiro's delicate face. His conscious mind refused to phrase his feeling, but some subliminal fraction of his brain knew they were the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen. He felt his pulse jumping in his throat wildly. He wanted to keep looking at them.
“Those eyes... Those are the legendary...but they're not supposed to be real!” Senritsu exclaimed as the car righted its course.
“Legendary? What do you mean?” Leorio asked, looking from the obviously stunned Kurapika to the scared-looking Senritsu.
“Any career pro Hunter would know the story. Almost three hundred years ago, some manuscripts were found in Kakin, in ancient ruins, detailing the exodus of people who allegedly had angelic blood and rainbows for eyes. It was assumed that these manuscripts were using flowery or figurative language, until about ten years ago, when a pro hunter claimed he had seen them in person. He refused to say when or where. But since then, collectors and human trophy hunters have aggressively sought after any possibility of finding them, offering billions in exchange even for information about where they might be found. One group of collectors even pooled their funds, under a contract of mutual ownership, and the reward for capturing the rainbow eyes has soared to over three hundred billion. It's said that...there's only one pair in existence...” Senritsu finished, and shuddered. She was afraid of those eyes based on legend alone, and now they were boring holes into the back of her seat.
“Correctement,” Nijiiro said softly.
“Th-three hundred billion?!” Leorio shouted.
“Three hundred ten, but who's counting? ...You hear that, Golden Boy? Today is your lucky day. I may not be too valuable as a hostage, but if you'd like to sell me for parts, you could hire endless numbers of assassins to wipe out the Ryodan for you and still make a tidy profit. Ah, but somehow, I don't think you would actually do that,” Nijiiro said slyly, “since you probably find that sort of thing unsavory, no?” Kurapika remained silent.
“How could anything, even a human trophy, be worth three hundred billion....” Leorio said, glancing back at Nijiiro, before hurriedly turning back to the busy traffic of YorkNew City. Truly, she had ceased to look like a real person to him as soon as her veil was lifted, or more accurately, she seemed too pretty to be real. With her unnaturally pale skin, full bust, pouting lips, and wild eyes, she seemed more like an uncanny life-size doll that some crazed sculptor had wished to life by selling his soul.
“Because...every hunter that went after them has disappeared without a trace, or died a gruesome death, everything from torture and poisoning to suicide. Pursuing them has been labeled a fool's errand, of S-rank difficulty, due to what was called the “Angel's Curse” at the time. Powerful hunters, at that. The two of you are too new to know much about this, but a decade ago, it was the foremost exemplar of the Hunter Association's zeitgeist, with large numbers of Hunters and hired criminals alike viciously competing to discover the rarest prizes, including human trophies. It became intense enough, that the general public began to question what the difference between a pro Hunter and a 'body snatcher' even was, and a large reform effort was made within the Hunter Association by its members, to preserve the image of the Association and set better ethical standards for pro Hunters. During that time, I never met a single Hunter who believed that the Angel's Curse was real....” Senritsu clasped her hands and stared at them, wondering whether helping Kurapika had doomed her to a grisly death.
“Seeing is believing, goblin. But make no mistake, even though you are guilty of trafficking in human trophies yourself, I bear you no personal malice, certainly not on the cosmic-grudge level of our Golden Boy here. I meant that I dislike body snatchers, the way I dislike the existence of certain other things, like bees and escalators. And as the bearer of another powerful curse, I'll even afford you the choice to remain silent about this night. Recognize the schietto of my heart now, and I can spare you having to hear the stiguendo of your own, capiche?” Nijiiro said glibly, unable to resist to opportunity to make colorful threats. Senritsu sat wondering just how anyone could see the scars of her curse through three layers of clothing, heightened vision or not.
“Shut your mouth, trash,” Kurapika said finally. His aura crackled darkly, its surface becoming dangerously unstable. “Do not threaten her again!”
“Kurapika!” Leorio said sharply, but internally he began to worry. Kurapika had a terrible temper, but never had he made the expression of rage and sorrow that he now made at Nijiiro. His chains clinked lightly with the shaking of his hands, and the edges of his aura began to snap and explode like the surface of boiling oil.
“Of course not. If I have to threaten her more than once, it's not much of a threat. You ought to take notes,” Nijiiro said calmly, looking over toward Kurapika with a slight smirk. “...Or at least stop associating with the body snatching criminals...” Kurapika summoned his full strength and punched her with a nasty left hook that Nijiiro felt all the way to the back of her skull. She tasted blood.
“If...If you understand so well...what it's like to be hunted...then why...WHY?! ANSWER ME!” roared Kurapika, seizing the lapels of Nijiiro's coat and shaking her like a rag doll her until blood dripped from the corners of her mouth.
“Kurapika! Enough! Gon and Killua are risking their lives for you, or have you forgotten! Control yourself, damn it!” Leorio shouted from the driver's seat. Senritsu alone heard the shift in Kurapika's heartbeat from the staccato rhythm of frothing rage and righteous anger, to a fervent agitato of pure agony.
“That's an excellent question, Kurapika,” Nijiiro drawled dispassionately, blood running down her chin in two lines, “But the answer, I'm afraid, is that I'll tell you what I deem necessary, as I see fit. You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad. If you can't accept that...you'll just have to kill me. I certainly deserve it.” Nijiiro finished speaking and shot a sidelong glance at Kurapika as she slumped gracefully back in her padded leather seat. They would arrive at the airfield in roughly twenty minutes. She had to collect her strength for what came next, and fortunately, Zetsu was the perfect state in which to do that. Being a Specialist Nen user granted her a far better grasp of internal Nen manipulation than most, and with a little concentration, she could build up her remaining Nen within the confines of her body, Zetsu be damned.
Kurapika dialed another of Nijiiro's Spiders. The first voice to answer his last call was back.
“Hell-” Phinks started to say, more than willing play along this time.
“Put one of the hostages on the phone,” Kurapika commanded.
“Here, kid, it's your mama!” Phinks grunted, and Killua came on the line.
“Are they all there?” Kurapika said. Killua could hear the stress in his voice, and it worried Killua more than he had time to discuss.
“They are now, but they're talking about going after the leader-” he said quickly, before Phinks snatched the phone back.
“Careful what you say, kid. Hello? Y-” Phinks said, ready to give the chain bastard a piece of his mind.
“You have thirty minutes to return to your hideout. If you aren't all present at that time, I will kill the hostage.” Kurapika hung up. His throat was actually sore. How much more could his stamina take? Kurapika couldn't fathom that yet. He'd never used his abilities this long. Nijiiro glanced over Kurapika's aura. The exhaustion was setting in deep, and she decided a break was in order. Besides, if his eyes couldn't turn scarlet at a critical moment, both of them were in deep trouble. Eventually the car came to a slow halt, and Kurapika bolted out of the cab before it reached a complete stop. 'You're far too cruel to your assets, Nijiiro,' she mused silently. Senritsu scurried away to arrange a pair of zeppelins.
“Get out,” Kurapika snapped.
“I can't do that,” Nijiiro said flatly.
“Excuse me?” Kurapika said, not sure whether he could tolerate another second near this woman and her exhausting shtick.
“I mean that my legs have gone numb, and I can't move from where I'm sitting. Not won't, can't. For some one who put in the work to materialize chains, of all things, you're quite abysmal at restraining people,” Nijiiro said. She raised one slender silver eyebrow.
“These chains aren't here to comfort you,” he sneered, yanking her halfway out of the car by said chain. “Get moving.”
“Ha! I'm precious cargo,” she called, her face upside down as she stared out of the cab, to Leorio, who stood just behind Kurapika. “Won't you please carry me instead?” Leorio did a terrible job of pretending he wasn't looking directly down the neckline of Nijiiro's shirt, and nodded.
“I, uh, um, hmmm” -Leorio cleared his throat awkwardly- “I suppose I'll have to, anyway...”
'Virgin!' Nijiiro's inner monologue seemed to shout. The corners of her mouth twitched.
“All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up,” Nijiiro smiled innocently.
“Mr. Who...?” Leorio puzzled for a moment. And...how close did she want him?
“Get a move on! Now is not the time for pointless chit-chat,” Kurapika directed grimly. He looked around for any signs of surveillance from the perimeter of the airfield, but felt only quiet, the humid air swirling around him uncertainly. Leorio wrapped his arms around Nijiiro as gingerly as possible, lifting her out of the car with his considerable strength the way a father might lift an injured child. 'Despite how you look, you're pretty gentle, aren't you, Leorio?' Nijiiro thought, trying not to giggle at the thought of this simpleton feeling obligated to princess-carry some one who could end his life more expediently than he could sneeze. He stared straight ahead with great effort, not wanting to be distracted by Nijiiro's bizarre eyes a second time, let alone her figure. The perfume drifting up from her hair was enough to cloud his concentration already. Senritsu scuttled back at a surprisingly brisk pace with the particulars of their flight. Nijiiro glanced at her, but immediately returned to building her Nen as quickly as possible, eyes closed. To escape these chains would be no small feat, even if she did have the power to do it.
“There's a private flight arranged for the lightweight ship in dock fourteen. I got express air traffic approval for free-form routes between now and twelve a.m.” Senritsu reported uneasily, looking, or rather, listening around for hostile heartbeats. The only one she heard was Kurapika's.
“Bring the car into the parking garage. And you,” Kurapika said, turning to Leorio, “make sure that that,” -he gestured to Nijiiro- “doesn't try anything foolish while Senritsu is gone.”
“Why, I would never,” Nijiiro quipped, nearly finished accruing Nen. She certainly wouldn't try escaping if it were a foolish thing to do. Senritsu returned after two minutes or so, affirmed that she was indeed Senritsu, not an imposter, and they trudged off to dock fourteen in silence.
Inside the ship, Nijiiro was dumped unceremoniously into a lounge seat while Kurapika combed through Nijiiro's phone contacts for a direct number to the Spiders' real leader. Nijiiro watched the cogs tick inside Kurapika's mind as he deduced which contact was the correct one, appreciating immensely the sheer cleverness behind his ardor. He had broken her naming code in under ten minutes, perhaps without realizing how difficult most would find that task. He frowned at the phone, and selected a number.
“You were right the first time,” Nijiiro said, her eyes closed when Kurapika looked over to her. 'How the hell is she doing that?!' Kurapika thought. 'I can see the reflection of the phone's screen in your eyes, rube,' thought Nijiiro. Kurapika dialed the first number he determined. It was certainly a fortunate choice, too, since the second was the very private number of Light Nostrade. Nijiiro would have been content to laugh at Kurapika had he accidentally dialed a prominent politician, a drug dealer, or an Oriental take-out store, but calling his own boss from her exclusive line might have created a turgid situation indeed. Of course, Kurapika himself would have probably preferred to speak to anyone on Earth other than the one he dialed.
“Yes?” said Chrollo expectantly.
“Come to dock fourteen. Board the ship moored there. Do not attempt any sort of trickery. I will issue your next set of instructions once you're on board,” Kurapika said, in a voice as heavy and tasteless as wet concrete. Chrollo hung up without responding. He knew Nijiiro would not be an easy hostage to keep. She had, in all likelihood, been twisting his mind into various balloon animals for the last forty minutes. His impromptu jog across YorkNew had probably been pleasant by comparison.
Nijiiro was hoisted up by her restraints and propped up in front of the entrance to the ship's main cabin, her legs having recovered a little of their strength. 'Smart...' she thought, glancing around, 'he's placed himself in the airlock to control the amount of physical space around us, he's using me as a shield, and he's set Leorio just behind the door to provide both an escape route and backup at the drop of a pin. He's used what few resources he has effectively and efficiently. It's probably what I would do... Well, if I didn't already know how fast Chrollo could wipe the floor with all three of them...'
Senritsu, who stood near-but-not-too-close to Kurapika, whispered something to him, and Kurapika went to the window to confirm what Nijiiro could already feel in every fiber of her being: Chrollo had arrived.
“Hey...Kurta...Zip up my coat, quickly,” Nijiiro requested softly. Kurapika let a short derisive laugh.
“Just try to behave yourself, and maybe I won't have to kill you in front of your beloved spouse,” he scoffed, spitting the last word as if it were a bite of something rotten. Why did it continue to bother him so much? Kurapika decided he would parse that later.
“It's your funeral,” Nijiiro sighed. There was no time to argue with him, anyway.
Chrollo stormed in like negative wind chill, his anger a freezing gust that sucked all the warmth from the small anteroom where they stood. The pneumatic door closed behind him.
“Ch-Chrollo...” Nijiiro stuttered. Her legs stood a little straighter, body at full attention. He looked into her eyes, and she blushed and looked at the ground. She was his dog, all right. The ship rose as he continued inspecting her, noting her missing veil, her mussed hair, smudged mascara, rumpled clothing, bloody mouth, and finally, his eyes alighted on the brilliant blue-purple bruises that bloomed across Nijiiro's white throat, the unmistakable outline of chains imprinted onto her skin. Senritsu gulped loudly amid the tense silence and questioned all of her life choices up to that point. The sound his heart made...it was the sound of one capable of total annihilation.
“What have you done?” Chrollo demanded, his black eyes flashing on Kurapika. The leader of the Gennei Ryodan glared at the avenger of the Kurta as the aura of the former filled the airlock with a sensation of freezing sleet and existential dread. Kurapika's jaw was set, and he couldn't think of an answer to save his life, which might have been forfeit at that moment, but for Nijiiro, who answered for the both of them.
“Please, my Sky, it wasn't...The truth is, I've done this to myself,” Nijiiro whispered, glancing up at Chrollo and blushing furiously. Chrollo simply looked at her, obviously disappointed.
“Explain.”
“I...managed the situation as best I could, but...” Nijiiro trailed off, her mouth too dry to continue. She swallowed and tried again.“And, I didn't mean to intervene, my body just...kind of...” And that was certainly true. She had originally planned on releasing the hostages, not being one.
“That's enough reunion for now. I'm going to set a few terms, and if you'll agree to them, we can proceed to an exchange. Just to confirm, you are the leader of the Gennei Ryodan, correct?” Kurapika said, as calmly as possible. Chrollo blinked. It was like watching a bank teller placidly inform Death himself that his account was overdrawn. 'He's either got some brass ones dangling from that deceptively slender build, or he is comically out of his depth,' Nijiiro thought, '...Please, don't get either of us killed, Kurta.' Chrollo looked from Nijiiro to Kurapika for a moment. Whose terms were they, exactly?
“What are the terms?” Chrollo asked, his eyes wide as he looked the chain-user. Kurapika drew out his Judgement Chain.
“Three conditions for each of you. If you abide by them, I will release my hostage. First, you will not use Nen. Second, you may not communicate with any member of the Ryodan henceforth, and cut all ties to them. And, third, if a hostage exchange can not be made by midnight, that is, one hour and thirteen minutes from now, my Nen blade will pierce your heart, killing you instantly. I'll let you decide if you agree to these terms,” Kurapika stated, looking Chrollo square in the eyes.
“Those terms...are every bit as foolish as your conduct up until now;” Chrollo's words were the slow and deliberate drawing of a sword, his malevolence borne out in every syllable. “And the possibility that you would survive beyond this moment evaporated the second you decided to manhandle my wife,” he growled, drawing out his Skill Hunter. The pressure of his Ren was almost too much to breathe in, and Nijiiro's heart pounded as she tried to remember who she was and what she was doing there. Chrollo was livid. Her forehead wanted desperately be pressed to the cold diamond plate on the floor, and she resisted the urge to press it there and beg for her continued existence. The forceful Zetsu of Kurapika's chains had left her more open and vulnerable than usual to the sensation of Chrollo's awe-striking aura, and she hit her knees without realizing she had fallen.
“Chrollo, please! Wait!” she cried out, both wincing at the colossal weight of his aura and dying of happiness to be beneath it. “Accept the terms!”
“Why?” Chrollo demanded, “Why should I wait until he can double-cross us, killing not only me, but you, and the others. That is his mission! I can't risk that. How can one agree to such terms without knowing what the immediate future holds, Nijiiro?!”
“I may not know what the future holds, but you do, Sama' Allayl,” Nijiiro attested fervently. Chrollo's terrible aura seemed to waver as he looked into her eyes. He understood. The prophecy had given him verses for the next week, and the one after. It didn't mention any danger for the next week, either. The odds had been in his favor the whole time, and only Nijiiro had noticed. “Please,” Nijiiro concluded, staring up at him breathlessly. For Nijiiro had dropped a hint to what was perhaps the most important feature of Neon Nostrade's power yet, one she'd taken great pains to hide until just then: the prophecies always came true if one believed they would. That was the reason Neon Nostrade refused to read her own fortunes, lest the negative omens become truly unavoidable. Chrollo seemed unmoved for the space of a few heartbeats, and then spoke softly in a voice that sounded far more tired than angry.
“Then...I will do what I must to regain your safety, Zahrat-Alqamar,” he said, looking only at Nijiiro as if the rest simply weren't there. 'Moonflower, he called her...' thought Kurapika. It suited her too well, and the sweet words sent cold needles into his guts. He was driving a metaphysical wedge between two people as inextricable as the moon and the night sky.* It felt...uneasy.
“If you accept the terms then I'll-” Kurapika began.
“Do it,” Chrollo ordered smoothly, still focused on Nijiiro's eyes. Kurapika hesitated, wondering why Chrollo's mind had suddenly changed. Did Nijiiro tell him something important? Was there some critical flaw in his plan, one that Nijiiro detected? Was there some possibility that she had been one step ahead the entire time? No, she had no way to communicate with her gang or Chrollo from the moment she had been taken. More importantly, was there any way around this? What could he change his terms to? How could he change his strategy? 'There's no alternative. I...I can't think of anything. I have to focus on saving those two! There's no other way!' Kurapika thought anxiously. He launched the Judgement Chain into their chests. Nijiiro closed her eyes and cringed, while Chrollo stared ahead defiantly. Kurapika leaned down next to Senritsu.
“If Gon and Killua were being manipulated, would you be able to tell from their heartbeats?” he whispered.
“I...don't know about Gon, but I've met Killua and I know how his normal heartbeat sounds. I should be able to tell the difference,” replied Senritsu. 'But right now...the one whose heartbeat...is most off-kilter...is yours, Kurapika....' she added inside her head. Kurapika nodded, and turned back to Chrollo, reciting the terms of the oath of the Judgement Chain for him, and then Nijiiro in turn.
“I have a few things to say before the exchange is made. You will escort the two hostages back to the airfield, unharmed, by ten minutes to midnight. You will do this alone. You will not go anywhere else, or attempt to subvert the exchange process in any way. I don't need to lecture you on the importance of adhering to the terms of the negotiations made here. I have every confidence that the other hostages will cooperate completely, and so you can avoid any casualties by cooperating as well-”
“If you're finished, take me back to the airport,” Chrollo said flatly. Kurapika's eyes narrowed.
“Why haven't you asked any questions?...You know who I am, don't you? And you're not worried? You honestly believe I'll return this woman to you?” Kurapika snapped. Nijiiro rolled her multicolored eyes, somewhat forgetting that they weren't as hidden as they usually were.
“Of course. You wouldn't ask those questions if you intended to deceive me,” Chrollo countered indolently, “So hurry up and don't waste any more of my time.” Kurapika, unable to argue with the statement, scoffed aloud and tapped on the door behind him six times, the signal to return to the landing pad. They traveled back to Ringon airfield in silence. Nijiiro's head remained bowed her eyes staring at the floor. She decided she could not afford to indulge in what-ifs for the rest of the evening, which she estimated at around fifty percent complete by now. 'Focus,' she chastised herself quietly. A braver soul would have turned her guilty eyes to stare at more of Chrollo than his boots, but Nijiiro, in spite of her successful scheming, couldn't bring herself to do it. Chrollo disembarked as soon as the door to the airlock blinked green, indicating full ground contact. Kurapika dialed Shalnark's cell phone.
“Hello?” Shalnark said, almost pleasantly.
“Give me one of the hostages,” Kurapika ordered. His eyes were twitching in a way that told him a migraine was imminent. He put a hand over his face, massaging the bridge of his nose even though it probably wouldn't help one bit. Gon's voice came on the line.
“Kurapika!”
“Are they all together? Are the two of you unhurt?” Kurapika asked, lacking the energy to mince words.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Give the phone back to the one who answered,” Kurapika said.
“Yes? This is Shalnark,”said Shalnark.
“Your leader is coming to retrieve the hostages. He'll be bringing them to the location of the exchange. He will not be speaking to any of you. Do not delay or interfere with him in any way, or the consequences for your side will be severe. The rest of you will remain in the hideout until the exchange is complete. As with before, disobedience will not be tolerated. That is all.”
“Wait! What guarantee do we have, that Saisho is still alive?” Shal blurted.
“Your leader, and your founder, were both able to agree to these terms,” Kurapika asserted stoically, “And so you should be able to, as well. Clinging to your egos at this point in time could prove detrimental to both of them. Remember that.” He hung up, wondering whether he'd said too much or too little. Nijiiro let a low whistle from across the cabin. She stood slowly.
“What a tense situation,” she remarked, grinning at their horrified expressions as she shattered Kurapika's hitherto unbreakable Nen chains like so much lead crystal, seemingly with brute force alone. “...Good thing it's over.”