SOUR CANDY | killua z. ✔

45 | push

tw: sen's gratuitous cursing & murder fantasies, some depictions of violence

"HOW CAN you kill people who had nothing to do with you?" Gon demanded.

The question was directed at the Troupe leader, but Sen's own answer was 'quite easily'. She should probably be uncomfortable with that.

"Hm," the leader tipped his head back into the onslaught of rain, pondering Gon's question. 

Sen also had a question for him. Her brother would kill her for it, but she couldn't sit around and wait while her people prepared for a trafficking epidemic. 

She wanted to get on the first flight home and make sure her family was okay, but Kotaro had warned her to stay put.

Sen was not good at 'staying put'.

If the leader gave her an honest answer (... thirty-percent chance of that?), the information would be invaluable.

But she couldn't ask it yet. Not while the Troupe had the upper hand. If the leader recognized her, and it was possible he already had, he could decide to kill Sen on the spot. Or worse.

Then Sen would never make it home.

A coin with a spider on it.

The coin was a trademark of the Phantom Troupe. Kurapika had confirmed it earlier, albeit reluctantly.

How involved the Troupe was with the missing children, Sen didn't know. But they were involved.

She ground her teeth, seething under the pressure of the Nen threads around her wrists.

This was the second time she'd been kidnapped in two weeks. No biggie. Same old, same old. She wanted to rip something open. Or cry. Or throw up. 

Or nothing, you damn baby! Hold it in, Sen. Hold it the fuck in.

"We have the Chain User's name and face," the leader told his companions, his phone clicking shut like a coffin's lid.

She, Gon, and Killua tensed. 

There went their 'capture the mind-reader woman' plan. If she wasn't a threat anymore, Kurapika should switch targets.

The Troupe leader's jacket had a Saint Peter's cross printed on the back. It flashed under a streetlamp. Sen thought of her sisters' braids flashing under the sun, the triplets doing clumsy cartwheels across the sand.

She stared at the glimmering cross with contempt. 

Given how vigilant the Phantom Troupe was, one of them was bound to notice Sen's awful mood. A stupid, angry part of her wanted them to notice, to pick a fight and give her an excuse to gut the leader for the information she wanted, even if it ended badly for her.

If anything happened to her family because she was gone, Sen was going to kill someone.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

The Hotel Beitacle's lobby was reasonably filled with well-to-do patrons. Not one of them deigned to pipe up with a 'what the fuck' when a group of suspicious-looking adults entered, dragging three obviously distressed kids behind them.

"OI!" Someone slapped a newspaper down.

Leorio?

It was Leorio.

He was draped across a fancy couch, berating some fake underling over the phone. He looked oddly in his element.