The Ninth || Chrollo x Reader

X. The Field

    TW: The following chapter includes self-harm, and a suicide attempt. Please read at your own indiscretion!

    My heels slip against soft dirt, as I trudge over to the field that I had once been at with Kurapika. As I walk, I crack my knuckles, each finger sharply clicking as I snap them into place. My eyes stay on my nimble fingers, and briefly flicker up ahead of me.

    There is a man, a lonesome sort of figure, who stands in the field with a stance as though he is carrying the burden of the earth on his shoulders. His back faces me, and begrudgingly walk over to him, to identify the man that piqued my interest.

    The soft wind carries a few leaves through the air, as it was near the end of summer. The green leaves flutter weakly, before drifting in front of him. The man's attention is drawn to the leaf, as he plucks it from the air. His head is turned towards it, as he appears to observe it. In his other hand, he holds a brown leather book.

    I halt suddenly. In disbelief from my own curiosity I sigh, and realize in that moment that the man who stands before me is none other than Chrollo. He is in a long sleeved shirt of white and black dress pants, and his hair is no longer gelled, rather freely loose from over a bandage covering his forehead. It had seemed as though he was a different person, though now that I am aware of his identity, I turn around and begin to leave.

    Behind me, I hear a voice call, "(y/n)!" Chrollo's tone of voice is filled with nonchalant bliss.

    I stop walking, and though I don't turn around to face him, I reply, "Yes?"

    There is the sound of footsteps, pressing through the wet grass beneath me, and Chrollo's voice is clear.

    "You don't mind speaking to me for a while, do you, (y/n)?" My eyes are trained before me, yet in the corner of my vision, I see his sickeningly charming face appear, his lips curved into a faint smile.

    My eyes meet his, as I say, "Not at all." I dig my heel into the grass, and turn swiftly, as I take a few steps into the field. Nearing the end of a small hill, I sit on the ground, and Chrollo does the same.

    We don't speak at first, and both watch the drifting clouds in the sky above us. They blow with the wind, and continue to move, circling us in an endless cycle before a blue sky.

    Chrollo says, "I suppose it was gunpowder that you had put onto me. That was a nice trick, where did you learn to do that?" Of all the things I had expected him to say, this was perhaps the least obvious.

    "I fought a few mercenaries before moving to Swardani, at a port miles away. There was this man who was an Enhancer, and it was probably the first time that I had ever fought someone with the same Nen type as me. I was unprepared for my attacks to not take damage, and found that there was some gunpowder near me..."

    As I speak, the fight that I had partaken in so many years ago began to visualize in my mind.

    The girl gaped at her stomach, through which a sword had pierced through. Blood began to bloom on her torn and stained tunic, and she spit out a mouthful of blood. Her teeth is gritted, as she launches herself at the enemy once again.

    Again, she falls. The tall man looms over her, as she is sprawled against the stone-tied floors of the port. The smell of rotting fish and salt wafts through the air, as the man hurls down his sword with great power.

    Her eyes widen as she chokes out more blood. Red stains her vision, her clothes, and her heart.

    "So then, I take the gunpowder, and threw it at him, before using my Hatsu to finish him off."

    Chrollo lifts a brow, "You did that half dead?" He sounds faintly surprised, however the question feels as though it is praise. I'd doubt that the head of the Spiders gave praise, though.

    I nod, and Chrollo's smile grows. We sit in a momentary silence, both of us thinking on the experience I had.

    "Where are your parents?" Chrollo's question is abrupt, however I'm quick to reply.

    "My dad died when I was young, so I have no clear memories of him. I was raised in Yorknew, and lived with my mother until she died. Then I became a Hunter." Though I speak the truth, I hope to say as little as possible, giving the most common details that many would usually say.

    Chrollo frowns, as he turns towards me. Our eyes make contact as he says, "Why did you become a Hunter?"

    I purse my lips, and say, "I wanted to avenge my mother, and the only way to get access to kill and obtain information was to become a Hunter." I tread carefully, though I do not pause as I speak, creating the illusion of complete truth.

    "Who taught you to fight?" Chrollo asks, his voice soft. It's as though he understands that fighting was not a thing that was wanted, or that many wished to do. I felt a strange bond of understanding and sympathy between us-

    I shake my head briefly, remembering who I'm speaking to, as I say, "My mother. She was a former mafia member, and taught me how to use Nen when I was younger so that I could defend myself."

    "She sounded like an interesting woman. What was she like?" We sit side by side, and I briefly pause, listening to the trees sway and the birds chirp before I answer.

    "She cared a lot, even for people that she didn't have to care about. I suppose that is an interesting mindset for a mafia member living in Yorknew City, but what's true is true. She only passed recently, a few years ago, so it's not as though I was a child when I began living on my own." I stop speaking, unsure of what else to say.

    Chrollo turns to me, sympathetic, though he doesn't say words of sorrow. Instead, he asks, "How did she die?"

    The girl stifled her cries, as she heard her mother's corpse drop to the floor. Hearing the footsteps of the man disappear around the corner of the alleyway, she rushed over to her mother.

    Lifting the cold body from the floor, she weeped into her mother's chest, the tears from her eyes mixing with the blood from the corpse's chest. The sound of helicopters and screams filled her ears, and the girl looked up to the sky.

    Her eyes were filled with a sort of dark emptiness, an indescribable void of grey. There was a longing for death, for the pleasure to hear her mother's voice call out to her once more. Beside her mother's hand, was a large, metal sword.

    Her breathing shook as she lifted the sword by the hilt, pressing the tip of the blade into her chest. Blood appeared over her heart, and stained the shirt that she wore. Though before she forced the blade through her body, voices called out from speakers on the helicopters over her head.

    "Members of the Phantom Troupe are meant to be killed on sight. I repeat, members of the Phantom Troupe are meant to be killed on sight..." The speakers continued repeating this statement, and the words rang in her ears.

    The girl's breath slowed, and the blade clattered down to the floor of the alley. When her eyes lifted, they blazed with fury, flickering flames that only appeared in hell.

    It was with absolute conviction, when she said, "I will kill the Phantom Troupe."

Author's note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your recent support! I just realized that the views have been increasing much faster lately :)) I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I wanted to mention that I will try to add trigger warnings in sensitive chapters, but please remind me if I've forgotten one. Again, remember to vote if you enjoyed, and I'll see you next time!
~Amorevolous