Trust his innocent, single-minded companion to point out the obvious. The wound was nothing compared to what the Geneiryodan were really capable of doing. Still, it couldn't be left unattended to. The cut was deep, the coppery smell of blood unmistakable from where Killua stood. The red fluid had all but dyed Kurapikas's left sleeve crimson – not even a patch of pink was left. He could also tell by the way his friend's arm hung limply, the fingers unmoving and stiff, that Kurapika had no control over his left arm anymore. The muscles have been severed – the samurai's blade had actually penetrated through the bone. A few more centimeters and the whole limb would have come off.
"Hmm… This small scratch?"
Uh oh. It was the sadistic little creep who had restrained Gon, the one who kept on expressing his desire to kill them on the spot. He had cruel eyes, and a slow drawl, which made Killua shiver unconsciously the first time he heard it. Not good… he had sidled up to Kurapika after Gon drew attention to the injury, and was now eyeing the taller boy hungrily – like a cat looking at a caged bird.
"That's not a wound!" the shortest Ryodan member sneered derisively. "Oi, Nobunaga, you're losing your touch!"
"Shut up, shrimp! Like you moved when he attacked!"
A cold laugh was Feitan's only reply to the samurai's disgruntled mutter. It seemed like he was going to leave the taunt at that – and so even the Geneiryodan members themselves were surprised when he suddenly grabbed Kurapika's arm, right on the open wound.
The pain must have been excruciating. Kurapika's head snapped up, eyes opening for the first time since hearing the gang leader's ultimatum. Amazingly, they were still in their crimson state, the red orbs mirroring shock and pain at the rough contact. He was obviously still agitated, and looked like the slightest provocation could push him to attack again. He didn't move though; only a gasp of pain and gritted teeth indicated his distress as Feitan slowly tightened his hold on the injury, no doubt aggravating the damage.
"Hhn… You've got a high threshold of pain…"
"Feitan! Didn't dancho say not to do anything to him?" the guy with the computer exclaimed.
"Since when did you become such a spoilsport, Shalnark? I'm not going to kill him."
Shalnark sighed. "Suit yourself. Don't say we didn't warn you, though."
Feitan turned his attention back to the wincing blond, and tightened his grip again. The blood flow had actually stemmed off a bit before this, but now it welled anew at the onslaught.
Killua could see that it was all Kurapika could do not to cry out in pain. It was bad before when his friend was still using nen, but now that he had placed himself in Zetsu he didn't even have the luxury of using the strengthening aspect of his nen to take at least deaden the sting of the wound.
He's… that bastard's actually enjoying this! They're monsters… all of them! Not even Father's this cruel… Stop it… Please stop!
Killua suddenly realized that he was trembling in rage. He didn't know if it was because of Feitan's manic sneer, or yet another reminder of his own inability to help his friends. He would have stepped forward… would have undone his bonds to rush to Kurapika's aid… if not for the tug the girl behind him gave him, or the slight tightening of the wire around his neck – warning him that to put even a single toe out of line would mean his death.
Coward, something inside him sneered. Can't even risk your neck to help your friend.
No… I can't… I don't… I –
"Stop it!"
Gon. The younger boy had actually cried out, despite the fact that Hisoka was just beside him, could kill him at a moment's notice. The yell before wasn't as risky as the one he gave now; the prevailing atmosphere then was more relaxed than the let's-torture-the-prisoners mood they were in right now.
"Stop, please! You're hurting him!"
"Hold your tongue, boy!" Feitan snarled, then twisted his wrist so that his sharp nails were now digging into the exposed flesh of the wound. This time Kurapika wasn't able to hold back the cry of pain, or stop his other hand from coming up to clutch at the bloodied mess that was Feitan's hand clawing at the horrendous gash on his arm. His reactions, though, served nothing but to excite his tormentor further.
'This can't even begin to say what blondie here will be getting for daring to come after us!"
"Forget about your friend, kid. The only thing waiting for him is a slow, painful death for killing one of our own. If I were you I'd be minding my own business. If you're well-behaved the leader might even spare you," the girl behind them said to Gon.
"But… but…"
"Feitan!"
Amazingly, the tension level in the room dropped with that single bark. All the other members seemed to relax, as their leader stepped out from the room he and the memory-reader had disappeared into. Out of the corner of his eyes Killua saw Shalnark mouth an "I told you so" to Feitan – whose small eyes narrowed even further at the action.
He felt like he was missing something. All the members – albeit Feitan and Hisoka, of course – were acting almost… human. He'd thought that they'd be torturing Kurapika by now, but they actually seemed reluctant to go near the blond, instead keeping to their posts and guarding all three of them from their positions.
His puzzlement over the members' behaviors increased tenfold, when he finally looked at the face of their leader.
Was he imagining things, or was the Geneiryodan head actually scowling at his subordinate?
No, he wasn't. Killua knew that look – it was a frown of disapproval, probably with a bit of anger thrown in. His father had often given him that look, whenever he failed to perform well in his training sessions, or did something that went against his parents' plans for him. He hated getting that look from his father; for some reason, it hurt the most out of all the punishments he'd endured over the years, even worse than the infrequent physical beatings Miyuki subjected him to.
It was also the last thing he'd expected to see in a place like this. Then… does that mean that the leader isn't planning on killing Kurapika?
Impossible. There must be a more horrible reason behind all of this – an ulterior motive, or a more frightening sentence. There were worse things than death, after all.
"Che…" Feitan growled, giving Kurapika's injured arm one last rough shake before releasing it. "We'll be killing him sooner or later, anyway, so what's the difference?"
No one answered his muttered question, nor did he wait for a reply as he sauntered back to his position beside the man called Phinx. He casually slid his hand back into his pocket, not even caring that Kurapika's blood was getting onto his clothes as he did so.
The leader was still scowling even as Feitan retreated, the look he directed at the other's back one that plainly said, "I'll deal with you later". Killua couldn't be too sure, though, for it disappeared after a second, to be replaced by the usual expressionless poker face as he turned to look at Kurapika, who had gone back to looking at the floor. For a minute or so he stared down at the blond, seemingly trying to decide on something, and just as it looked like he was about to talk, Kurapika beat him to it.
"Let them go… please." The last he was only able to grind out after a bit of effort, but just the fact that he had spoken, the first time since waking up, and had dared to ask them for something that he must know they won't just easily give him, was enough to send the room's occupants into surprised silence.
"Geez… he even sounds like a girl," Phinx muttered.
"Let them go," Kurapika repeated, "They've nothing to do with any of this."
"They were helping you track us. That can hardly be called 'not involved', can't it?" the leader remarked.
"Only because I asked them to do so. They wouldn't have gone after you on their own."
Uhh, Kurapika… we did, the first time, Killua thought.
"I don't think so. Why then were they able to deny knowledge of you when we caught them a week ago?" Nobunaga asked. "That means they came after us on their own!"
"You asked the wrong question. They didn't know that I was the one you were looking for at that time."
Kurapika… Why are you trying so hard to take all the blame? They'll see through you… that Pakunoda – she's seen your memories, she'll know that we practically forced you to let us help…
"I'm the only one you're after, right?" The corners of Kurapika's lips quirked upwards, but with his hair still covering his eyes the effect was ironic, sardonically morbid. "It would probably mean nothing to you, but I give you my word that I won't fight back, or try to escape. You don't have to use them as hostages."
Idiot… Idiot! Don't do this! We didn't ask for you to sacrifice yourself… We didn't ask for your help!
"Damn right that your word's worth nothing!" growled the samurai, who was getting more and more angry with each passing second. "Dancho! You're not just going to believe him, are you?"
"One thing that you apparently don't know about the tribe that you slaughtered so mercilessly five years ago, is that the Kuruta are incapable of lying," Kurapika said, his quiet, conversational tone so at odds with the emotions facing him that what he said seemed pure and truthful beyond doubt.
"Our eyes, when red, have the ability to see through any kind of deceit. We were raised to value truth above anything else, to balance out that telepathic skill."
What? I didn't know that. Killua wondered if Kurapika was pulling their legs even as he was telling them about not being able to lie.
"Only if you let them go," the blond said calmly, now raising his head to look the Geneiryodan leader in the eye.
"Fine," the dark-clad man finally said after a minute of staring into the root of all their troubles. "Paku."
No. This can't be happening…
Too horrified to do anything else except to stare dumbly at