Chrollo Lucilfer - Blog Posts
a/n: i noticed there are very little fics of my goat chrollo, ive had this idea for a while and im proud for finally writing it!
cw: kidnapping, clan genocide, mayhaps a bit ooc? kurta!reader, arson, mentions of gore
credits for header: ME! i made the header this time! do you guys like it ...
credits for dividers: @neroticbf
Imagine you were part of the Kurta clan. The medic, treating people's wounds, helping the little kids get over falling on the ground. It was peaceful and quiet. But that was before Chrollo came.
You don't know what he was doing, but it appeared he had strained his leg when he fell in your clan. You of course took him in and started treating his wounds. You helped him get better. You made dishes he liked.
You had to go out to restock on medicine and food, you passed your test a few months ago, so now it was much easier to treat wounds. Your peace only lasted a few hours though.
Burning houses, dead bodies. You can swear they're eyeless, but you couldn't tell since you began running to your house. By some miracle (?) your house hadn't caught the flames, you opened the door to see Chrollo waiting, almost as if he didn't care.
You explain everything to him, as if he wasn't there to see it, pulling his arm so you two can find survivors. Chrollo mumbles an apology before he knocks you out with a simple swipe.
--
You wake up with cold sweat all over you in a room you don't recognize. It's filled with lavish velvet covers adorned with black accents. You have to take a moment to regain your breath and consciousness. Was that all a dream? No, if it was you'd be in your room.
You attempt to get up and get out of bed, before noticing your moves are stopped by a chain tied to your bed post. You give it a few tugs, before realizing it won't budge. You're immediately startled by the door opening.
"Ah, you're awake," Chrollo says, as if this is perfectly fine. He's holding up a tray that contains a neat breakfast of miso soup and eggs. "I was wondering if I was too harsh."
"C-Chrollo what's going on?! Why am I chained-"
"That was just in case," Chrollo casually explains, placing the tray next to you. "Now can you eat your breakfast?"
"Wha- Chrollo what happened to my clan?!"
"I killed them."
You froze. He said it so casually, almost as if he was saying the weather. You actually question yourself if it isn't important but snap back to reality.
"Why?"
"To sell the eyes on the black market," Chrollo responds. "Now could you hurry and eat?"
You're still shocked, you're not sure how to react. It feels like you're the one who's crazy for asking the questions. Reluctantly you start eating (after trying to look for any hints of drugs of course). It tastes..good? It feels like Chrollo went out of his way for this.
"....why did you spare me?" You ask after swallowing.
"You were nice to me," Chrollo says. "You allowed me to recover faster and to deal with your clan faster."
You grip the spoon harder, guilt beginning to fill you.
Is this a hell you created?
--
hope you enjoyed! smooches you
Capa para a fanfic “O ‘sonho’ de Lucilfer” escrito por abbachicx e postado pelo Aniverse Project, um projeto com foco em trazer mais fanfics diversificadas para as seções de animes do Social Spirit, no caso fanfic do anime Hunter x Hunter.
Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos aos fanartistas!
Link da fanfic em breve.
My sibling: He's traumatizing everyone, He's made a list and he's checking it twice
About hisoka 🌟💧
Accidentally stumbled upon quite an old fragments of a thing I started in november and never actually finished :)
New brush day, new chess boy 🤲
Don't you smoke at the gas station
Moreeee moreee Chrollo stuff before next year comes! Hell yeaaah I need to finish EVERYTHING I started this year, god, there are two more things I'm gonna post (I HOPE) today 💃💃💃
Spider-chrollo again!!! Goooosh I'm super in love with this au 💘💘💘
I WAS SCREAMING ON THE FLOOR then I came up with this idea. Have never seen anyone draw him as a spider man before, WHYYY???? This is so canon to me, if he's not suitable for the spider man role, then no one is. It would be so awesome to turn the WHOLE TROUPE into spider people lol
Mgmmm they're done ✅
Got bored of drawing men, gonna draw men in disguise 👍 also just a feminine urge to draw sexy dresses
Jeez this is so funny and could have probably happened lol. I guess they were just trying to take over a lesbian club XD
Hooray, I've finally found time to finish the thing I started in like September, jeez, I'm so satisfied honestly, this looks even better then I expected♦️
wanted to try somethin new with some hunters and not hunters
𝟏
They say the moon is a silent witness to all things—wars, betrayals, quiet deaths in the dark. If that's true, then Ayame Shingetsu was born beneath its cold, watchful eye, forged not by warmth but by stillness, silence... and blood.
She moved like moonlight—quiet, beautiful, impossible to grasp. Her presence never announced itself. It lingered. The last thing her targets ever saw was not her face, but her shadow stretching across the ground, slender as a blade.
Hunters whispered her name with respect. Assassins said it with fear.
Ayame wasn't known for kindness, nor cruelty. She was known for results. Precise. Unflinching.
Some called her a ghost. Others, a weapon.
But Ayame? She called herself nothing at all.
Because the moon doesn't speak.
It watches.
And waits.
Just like her.
The snowfall was light, but the blood in the air was heavy.
Ayame crouched on the edge of a tiled rooftop, her breath still, her heartbeat quieter than the wind. Below, the target laughed—loud, obnoxious, surrounded by guards who were too relaxed for men about to die.
"Minister Retsu of the Eastern Trade Council," she murmured, almost thoughtfully. "Ninety-seven bribes. Twelve assassinations. One child."
She flexed her fingers once, as though testing the air. That was all the ceremony she needed.
They never saw her drop.
She descended without a sound, her feet landing silently behind the nearest guard. Her Nen flared around her like a cold, invisible storm, focused and precise. In the blink of an eye, her fingers sliced the guard's throat. The man dropped before his mind could even process the danger.
The others fell in quick succession—each a flawless, deadly motion. Heads exploded with the force of her Nen-infused fingers, organs ruptured under her invisible strike. One tried to scream. But no sound came as his body crumpled to the ground, his jaw shattered by the force of Ayame's targeted touch.
The minister, frantic, scrambled back, slipping on the snow now stained with his men's blood. "W-who sent you?" he stammered, wide-eyed, hands trembling.
Ayame's eyes were still—unmoved, unaffected. Her gaze pierced through him like the cold moonlight, distant and remorseless.
"Your sins did."
And then she moved.
Flashback – 7 Years Ago
Ayame stood barefoot on the cold floor of the Shingetsu dojo, blood dripping from her chin, her wooden practice sword cracked in half.
Her grandfather towered over her—stern, unblinking.
"You hesitated," he said.
"I spared her eye," Ayame whispered, her voice low.
"You don't spare your enemy's vision. You steal it. You leave nothing they can use to fight you."
She lowered her gaze to her broken weapon. A tremble ran through her, but not from fear.
From shame.
"Again," her grandfather commanded. "Until you forget how to show mercy."
Back in the present, Ayame stood over the minister's lifeless body.
She looked up at the sky. The moon was full.
It always was when she killed.
Her inherited, 'Infinite,' hummed gently around her, a silent barrier that kept the world at bay. The minister's blood soaked the snow beneath her feet, but her expression remained unchanged. She felt nothing, not even the satisfaction of her work.
Turning away, she slipped into the shadows once more, her mind already on the next task at hand. Her purpose wasn't to feel, wasn't to question. She was a weapon, and the world was full of those who needed to be silenced.
Her eyes, like the cold moon above, were never anything but still. Always watching. Always waiting.
The city lights below were a haze of neon and motion, but Ayame's apartment sat high above it all—silent, sterile, still.
She unlocked the door with a flick of her hand, stepping into the cool dimness. No shoes to remove, no clutter. Her space reflected her perfectly: efficient, minimal, untouched by sentiment.
A single katana—ceremonial—hung on the wall, not for use but for legacy. The rest of the apartment was empty save for a low table, a kettle, and a window that framed the moon.
She shrugged off her coat, bloodstains still drying on the fabric, and let it fall to the floor.
Then, her phone buzzed.
Ayame stared at the screen. No name. Just a number. One she had memorized, not saved.
She picked it up.
Silence on the line for a beat. Then—
"Still breathing, girl?"
Ayame didn't smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Barely. You interrupted my tea."
Isaac Netero chuckled on the other end, the sound low and worn but full of life.
"If you have time for tea, you're not moving fast enough."
"I already moved," she replied. "He's dead."
"I know," he said. "The Eastern Trade Council is already panicking. You've caused quite a stir, as usual."
Ayame poured hot water into a cup, watching the steam rise. "I didn't kill him for politics."
"No," Netero said thoughtfully. "You never do."
A pause.
"You sound... colder," he added.
"I am," she said. "Is that concern, old man?"
"Observation," he answered lightly. "You're becoming more like your grandfather every year."
Ayame didn't reply. Her eyes drifted to the city below, to the lights flickering like dying stars.
"He trained you well," Netero went on. "But he trained you to survive. Not to live."
"I don't need to live," she said. "I need to finish what I started."
A beat of silence.
Netero's voice softened. "One day, the killing won't be enough. And when that day comes, I hope you've left a little bit of yourself unbroken."
Ayame sipped her tea.
"I won't," she said simply.
And hung up.
The silence returned, but this time, it felt heavier.
The moonlight spilled across the room, casting long shadows behind her.
She didn't move. Didn't speak. She just sat there—alone in a world where even her enemies feared to follow.
Flashback — 5 Years Ago
Outskirts of Kukuroo Mountain
The wind cut through the highlands like a blade, whistling between the jagged rocks. Ayame stood alone on a cliff's edge, overlooking a cluster of destroyed caravans far below. Smoke curled from what remained—burnt cargo, shattered crates, and corpses.
She didn't kill them.
But she watched it happen.
Watched the raiders strike. Watched them take. Watched them leave.
She could have stopped it. But it didn't matter.
Ayame turned to go—silent, cold, already fading into the background of the world.
Then came the voice.
"You didn't intervene."
She paused.
"You saw everything. And did nothing."
Ayame didn't look back. "They weren't mine to save."
Footsteps approached slowly—measured, soft against the gravel, but every step carried weight.
"You're strong," the man said. "But strength without purpose... that's a tragedy."
She turned slightly, just enough to see him over her shoulder.
Isaac Netero.
She recognized him immediately—not from stories, but from instinct. No one else had that kind of presence. It wasn't even his Nen. It was his stillness. A stillness only people who had mastered destruction ever carried.
"I didn't ask for your wisdom," Ayame said.
"I'm not offering it," he replied. "I'm just curious."
Ayame raised an eyebrow.
"Curious about what?"
"What kind of world a person like you wants to build... or destroy."
Ayame looked away again, her expression unreadable. The wind pushed her hair across her face.
"I don't want to build anything," she said. "I'm just looking for something interesting."
Netero's eyes narrowed, not in judgment—but calculation. The kind of look you give a puzzle you don't quite understand.
"You're not finished yet," he said quietly. "You think you are, but you're not. There's something missing in you."
"Let me guess," she said, bored. "Compassion? Redemption?”
"No," he said. "A reason."
Ayame didn't reply.
She just stepped past him and began walking down the hill.
Netero didn't follow. He only spoke once more, almost to himself:
"You'll either find it in someone... or lose yourself to someone who makes you forget you needed it."
She kept walking, her silhouette disappearing into the fog.
At the time, she didn't know what he meant.
But one day, she would.
𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮
The world of Hunters was a place where power ruled, where only the strongest survived, and those who weren't ready to sacrifice everything were quickly forgotten. Among the many names whispered through the dark alleys of cities and the desolate landscapes of battlefields, one name stood above all others. A name that struck terror into the hearts of assassins, hunters, and criminals alike. That name was Ayame Shingetsu.
Born into a bloodline so old that its origins had been lost to time, Ayame's very existence was a testament to the dark legacy of her family. They were not the loudest or most numerous, but their power was undeniable—shrouded in mystery and fear. And at the center of it all was Ayame, the last living heir of a lineage whose strength lay not in their size or numbers but in their unparalleled mastery of perception and control.
Ayame's story began long before she ever stepped onto the battlefield, her fate already carved out by the eyes she inherited. The Shingetsu family was renowned not for their prowess in combat, but for a unique gift passed down through generations—the Eyes of Infinite Perception. These eyes allowed the user to see everything: not just the present, but the movements, intentions, and emotions of others as if they were written in the air, visible to only those who had the gift.
The ability to perceive the future, even in fleeting moments, gave her family members an unparalleled advantage in battle, negotiation, and survival. The world was theirs to control—nothing could remain hidden from their sight. But it was Ayame who took this gift to an unprecedented level, mastering it with such skill that even the most seasoned warriors found themselves helpless in her presence.
Her eyes, however, were not the only power she possessed. Her Nen abilities were as deadly and precise as the family legacy she carried.
At the heart of her arsenal lay "Hōrō" (the Blade of Fate)—a strike so swift and lethal that even the most powerful opponents had no time to react. The secret behind Hōrō was not in its physical force but in its absolute precision. Ayame could read the movements of her enemy before they even moved, anticipating their every action. She could calculate the angle of a blow, the timing of a strike, and the exact point of impact with a mere thought. In a single motion, she could end a life. The target would never know what hit them. No one could evade Hōrō—its speed was beyond human comprehension, and Ayame's ability to control it made it an unstoppable force.
Unlike most Nen abilities, Hōrō did not require excessive training or years of discipline to perfect. Instead, it was an instinct, a natural extension of Ayame's perception and understanding of the world around her. In battle, Ayame's enemies were always one step behind, struggling to keep up with the unrelenting flow of time and motion that she could control with a mere flick of her wrist.
But it was Shingan—the ability that struck fear into the hearts of those who heard its name—that truly set Ayame apart from anyone who had ever existed. Shingan (the Mind's Eye) was not a weapon forged from strength or brute force. Instead, it was an ability that demanded nothing more than a subtle gesture, a mere flick of the finger. With that tiny motion, Ayame could cause a person's head to explode in an instant.
The power of Shingan lay in its unpredictability and its simplicity. It did not require a large amount of concentration or energy; it only needed Ayame's mind to target her victim. She could strike from a distance, with no weapon, and with no need to move her body. The precision of Shingan was absolute—no one was safe, not even those with the fastest reflexes. The ability was so deadly that it made any direct confrontation with Ayame a suicide mission. Shingan was her trump card, one that she wielded with casual indifference.
But Ayame's Nen abilities were not the only thing that made her invincible. At the heart of her power was Infinite, a barrier so potent that it could repel anything and everything that came into contact with her. Infinite was a force field, a nearly impenetrable wall of energy that encased Ayame in a protective shell. It was an extension of her will, a reflection of her unyielding nature. No attack, no weapon, no Nen ability could breach Infinite unless she allowed it.
For Ayame, Infinite was not just a defense—it was a statement. It symbolized her absolute control over the battlefield. No one could touch her, no one could harm her, unless she deemed them worthy. Those who tried to strike her found their weapons bouncing off harmlessly, their blows rendered meaningless. And in moments when Ayame was feeling merciful, she would deactivate Infinite, allowing her enemies to approach. But that was only ever a rare mercy—because when she did allow someone close, they were already condemned. Her enemies never saw the attack coming.
The barrier also reflected Ayame's internal philosophy—a belief that she was untouchable, above the chaos of the world around her. While others relied on weapons, training, or brute strength, Ayame saw the world through the lens of her eyes and the calm control of her Nen. The battlefield was nothing more than a game to her—one that she had already won before it even began.
But Ayame's power was not without its cost. Her eyes, while giving her an advantage no one else could understand, also left her detached from the world around her. She could see everything—the movements, the thoughts, the emotions—but she felt little. It was as if she were watching a play, where everyone else was an actor, performing for her amusement, and she was the only one who knew the ending. The struggles of others were meaningless to her. She saw the patterns, the inevitable outcomes, and found little joy in the drama that unfolded.
Her interactions with others were cold, distant. She rarely laughed, rarely showed emotion. Her expression was often one of mild amusement, like a spectator watching a show they had seen a thousand times before. Ayame found conflict amusing—not because she enjoyed the violence, but because it was predictable. People fought for control, for power, but they never understood that it was all futile. She was the one who held all the cards.
Despite her indifference to the world around her, Ayame was not without enemies. The world of assassins, hunters, and power-hungry factions was full of those who sought to challenge her, to prove themselves superior. Some thought they could break her, defeat her, take away the power that had made her infamous. But they were wrong. They always were.
Ayame's power was not simply her Nen abilities or her inherited gift. It was her mind. She could see the world around her and understand it in a way no one else could. She knew their moves before they made them. She anticipated their plans before they even thought of them. And with that knowledge, she controlled them all.
Her reputation as a cold, calculating, and invincible force spread like wildfire. She became a figure of myth and legend, a name that echoed through the halls of the most dangerous organizations. Some sought to kill her. Others sought to manipulate her. But none succeeded.
There was no one who could stand against Ayame Shingetsu. She was the blade of fate, and no one could escape her vision, her power, or the inevitable end she brought. Those who crossed her would find themselves destroyed, and those who served her would find themselves in the presence of a woman who saw all, knew all, and could end it all with a single gesture.
In the world of Hunters, Ayame was more than a name. She was an unstoppable force. And her story was only beginning.
He was a void wrapped in scripture. She was an untouchable storm.
Chrollo Lucilfer. Leader of the Phantom Troupe, a man who speaks softly but bleeds chaos. A thief of abilities, a manipulator of fate. He moves like a shadow, unreadable, unstoppable, always ten steps ahead of the world he's trying to burn.
Then came Ayame Shingetsu.
An enigma with a barrier called Infinite, untouchable by blade, bullet, or man. Her smile is rare, her mercy rarer. She doesn't chase power. She is power. Feared by assassins, respected by Hunters, and bored by almost everything... until him.
Their meeting wasn't fate. It was a warning to the world.
Because when two forces of nature collide, something always breaks.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Toxic relationships, Possessiveness, Overprotectiveness, Violence, Murder, Gore, Explicit sexual content, Manipulation, Psychological abuse, Dark character dynamics, Morally ambiguous or villainous behavior, Disturbing imagery and themes, Death and intense emotional distress
Parts:
Ayame Shingetsu
1
2
3
good evening kurokura nation
Spiders and Spirits
Chapter 2
Pairing: Chrollo x Fem OC Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Light Angst Chapter Wordcount: 5,267
Aamu journeys to the Continent of Yorbia to study humans, she runs into none other than Chrollo Lucilfer. Is she the Nen exorcist he's been looking for? Is he the monster she's been raised to believe all humans are? Aamu is determined to unravel the mysteries of humanity, but she quickly learns that'll be no easy feat!
Click here for chapter one!
Author's Note: Hihi lovely reader! If you've made it this far holy moly thank you so much. This story starts during greed island arc, while Chrollo is without his Nen. I'm trying to write as accurate of a portrayal of Chrollo as I can, and I'm planning on trying to keep it at least somewhat faithful to the storyline that already exists. As always I hope you enjoy! o7
Alone in the woods at a dingy little camp he had time to think. Time to comb over just how everything went so wrong. Had he grown too confident in his abilities? If he had made sure they killed all of the Kurta clan, Uvogin would still be alive. If he hadn't been so focused on stealing Neon's ability, they would've been able to find the chain user sooner. Before he got captured, before he lost his Nen. Chrollo cursed himself for believing that everybody in the Phantom Troupe would be willing to sacrifice him for the greater cause. He knew how Pakunoda felt, and even that some of the others were less than caring of his rules. Now all he could do was wait and hope that he would stumble upon a Nen exorcist. It was all such a mess. He kept asking himself how exactly it all fell apart so quickly. On the outside he was fronting the same stoic nature, but underneath he felt as though his entire being was beginning to rip apart at the seams.
His thoughts were loud, so loud that he almost missed it. The hair raising on the back of his neck and the paranoid feeling that called him to look over his shoulder. He was being watched. As quickly as the onslaught of anxieties had come, they vanished in an instant as he started to deduce who was watching him. He could tell they were hiding behind the trees to his rear. It was clear whoever was watching him was an amateur. They hadn't even tried to hide their presence in the slightest bit. He made no move to indicate that he knew they were watching him. One wrong move and he could find himself facing a Nen user with his bare fists. That's why he had chosen to hide so far out in the woods in the first place. His list of enemies was rather long and if the chain user spread the word that he couldn't use his Nen anymore, people would surely come looking. Very angry people who wanted him dead. This made the task of finding a Nen exorcist that much harder. He couldn't openly parade around looking for one and let the whole world know that Chrollo Lucilfer leader of the Phantom Troupe was defenseless.
He resolved his worries once more, whoever was behind him was making no move to engage. For all he knew it could be a curious child that wandered too far into the woods. He looked around cautiously, and brought his gaze back to the book he forgot he was holding. It was a comic book: The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners; definitely meant for somebody younger but it held a special place in his heart. Memories of when he was a child dubbing over the animated show of the comic always came back to him when he read it. Some days he found himself wishing he could go back to those times. Before Sarasa disappeared. Before it all really began to go downhill. Deciding it was pointless to sit here and let his stalker watch him fall apart, he stood from the fallen log he had been sitting on. Making his way over to the small tent and grabbing a bandage, he wrapped it around his forehead underneath his black bangs. The tent was more of a tarp suspended on a rope and staked down at the corners so it formed a small triangular shelter for him to sleep under. He couldn't risk somebody recognizing the cross tattooed on his forehead, he stood out enough in the colorful little town with his black long sleeved shirt, black pants, and black shoes. Several miles south was a road that would lead him to a small seaside town. It was full of fishermen and farmers, so it was unlikely he'd find a Nen exorcist among the people. When he passed through there the first time, the villagers talked of their fear of the woods north. It was why he chose to make his camp so far out in them. Thinking maybe his stalker had something to do with those fears, he made he way to the town. Regardless it was something other than his countless mistakes to focus on .
As he walked down the dirt road to the city he thought about the fortune he had received from Neon, the daughter of Nostrade:
The calendar loses a precious component. The remaining months gather to mourn. The mourners play a melody, While the eleventh moon quietly rises.
The chrysanthemum withers and falls, To lie on the ground beside bloody Scarlet Eyes. But you will remain supreme. Even after losing half your limbs.
East is the direction to go. You will find one who awaits you. Enjoy the interlude. Be patient with your shadow.
It crossed his mind that whoever was watching him earlier in the day could be 'his shadow' that the poem was referring to. The mysterious person followed him up to the road, but stayed out of sight behind the tree line and disappeared as he made his way towards town. It was around noon when he reached the town square, a small market was being held with farmers filling temporary stalls with fresh produce, fishermen with beds of ice displaying their biggest catches, and even jewelers with rings laid out that dazzled in the sunlight. There were a plethora of other stalls set up selling trinkets and whatnot. It was a busy little town, but still a peaceful one. Nearly a complete opposite of Meteor City. He needed dinner but knew any meat would spoil on the walk back to his camp, so he approached a farmer with a slew of vegetables on display. Bright red tomatoes, the longest carrots he'd ever seen, bushy heads of cabbage, anything you would need to make a delicious stew.
“What can I do for ya' son.” Chrollo hid a small smile, even their accents sounded like they belonged in a quaint little town.
“Two carrots, two potatoes, and a tomato, please.” As he had made his way east from York New he was grateful for all the wealth he had accrued over the years. It kept him afloat while he was trying to figure out how he'd get his Nen back.
“There ya' are, have a good one.”
“Say I'm just passing through town, but I heard you guys stay clear of the woods just north. Why is that?”
“Well ya' see those are the lost woods, it's mostly just old folk tales but people have said they've seen strange lights and what not up there,” the older farmer had a drawl to his voice “if you're just passin' by em' don't fret, nothing bigger than a fox is gonna come creeping on ya'.”
“Thank you sir.” People were starting to line up behind him so he paid, grabbed his paper bag of vegetables, and went off to the next stall in search of more information. He spotted a small butcher's stand that was selling broth. As he was cutting across the busy walkway he felt it again. He was being watched. He looked around slowly to his left then right, they must've been behind him again. He decided it was unlikely anybody looking to attack him would follow him to a busy town square, and even if they wanted to they'd be a fool to do so in such a crowded area. He turned around quickly to see who was watching him, but he only caught a glimpse of a brown streak ducking behind a corner. It was now or never to confront this mysterious shadow, so he turned the corner to where they ducked away but there was no sign of them anywhere. Clearly they weren't interested in a confrontation. It relieved him a small bit as this meant they probably weren't here to kill him, but it left him more confused. If not a fight, then what did they want? There was a small chance it could be an admirer of some sorts. It was uncommon but he had heard of people who supported and wished to take after the Phantom Troupe, he'd even heard of some that worshipped them. The thought of that possibility made him wish that they were here to kill him instead. He returned to the butcher's stand selling broth.
“What'll it be for ya',” the butcher had the same quaint accent, but his voice was rougher than the farmers.
“Chicken broth, please.” Chrollo watched as the butcher reached below the counter and brought up a small container of broth.
“500 Jenny.”
Reaching into his pocket for the money, he asked the butcher, “Say I'm from out of town, are the woods up north really haunted?” The butcher chuckled.
“Ain't nothing but foxes and squirrels up there, don't let the wives tales get to your head, boy.” Even though he was nearing his thirties, Chrollo had a boyish face. People often mistook him for being much younger than he really was.
“Thank you sir.” Unfortunately, his search for answers didn't bring up much. On his way out of the town square he noticed a small book store on the corner of the street. One more try for answers couldn't hurt, he needed a new book anyway. The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners was sentimental, but he could only read it so many times and it was getting rather depressing. Perusing the cramped book shelves, he didn't see anything that caught his eye. The store was old and the selection of literature looked even older.
“It was that damn strange woman that's been lurking around town for days! The one that couldn't speak! She took off with at least four books and left me 100 Jenny!” It was hard for Chrollo not to eavesdrop on such a loud conversation in a quiet bookstore.
“You said she couldn't speak? What did she look like?”
“She didn't say a word, and when I asked her for the money she looked at me like I was crazy! I couldn't tell what she looked like because she was hiding under a hooded robe. It was brown and she had glasses with ginger hair but that's all I could see!” The book store owner cried out to the small town cop. Taking note of the brown hooded robe mentioned, it was possible that's what he saw when turned around to see his stalker.
“And when did all this happen?”
“Barely even thirty minutes ago! If you weren't standing here asking me all these questions you might be able to catch that damn thief!” Chrollo decided he'd come back another time to question the bookstore worker. He didn't want to mingle with the police, even if it was just a small town cop there was a chance he would recognize him. It was more than likely his stalker was also the book thief, which meant it was a woman tailing him. Unfortunately, the possibility of his shadow being an admirer was becoming more and more likely. He tried to reason with himself that somebody who wanted to kill him would be worse than a stalker that was looking for a chance. However he was unsuccessful in doing so.
By the time he made it back to his camp the sun was setting. He started a fire and dug a small pot from his tent when he noticed it. The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners was gone. He was going to give this stalker a reason to hate him if he was ever able to confront her. Maybe once he got his Nen back. He wouldn't kill her, he'd just give her a good reason not go through strangers belongings and certainly not steal their copies of The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners. He tried to let it go, but unfortunately he was once again unsuccessful in doing so. Night had fallen and his stew was almost done, when his shadow came to watch him again. Enjoy the interlude. Be patient with your shadow. The more he thought about his fortune and what he knew of his stalker, the more a picture of just who was watching him formed in his head. Whoever this was probably wasn't literate, if the book store worker was right in her being unable to speak. It made sense she'd take the comic book filled with more pictures than words. Did she live out here in the woods? Probably not. Anybody who spent their life surviving in the woods would know how to hide themselves better. Could she be a victim? Maybe she had escaped human trafficking, but if that were the case why wouldn't she seek out refuge in the town. Was she afraid to? The thought struck a chord somewhere in him, as kidnappings and human trafficking had been a serious issue growing up in Meteor City.
He was lost in thought again when he felt it. She was back. He continued preparing his dinner, deciding she wasn't a threat he needed to worry himself over as she again made no moves to approach. He threw in a potato, two of the carrots, and the tomato. A less keen ear would've missed it, but just as the stew came to finishing simmer the sound of a stomach growl just beyond the light of the fire rang out. He didn't have any extra bowls, only enough for himself. Looking around he saw a cup sitting in his tent. As he was filling it up with stew he proposed a trade with his shadow.
“If you give me my book back you can have some.” He would've offered it regardless, knowing all to well the feeling of famine. But why not try and get his comic book back in the process. He waited a few minutes, and when there was no answer he stood up to put the cup by the edge of the fire light near the direction of where the stomach growl came from. As soon as he got close he heard her scamper further back out of sight. Shortly after returning to his fallen log, he saw a slender hand reach out to grab the cup. A moment later and the same hand put an empty cup back. The ingredients had made more than enough for himself so he went and refilled the cup, but this time he placed it closer to the fire. Again after returning to his seat on the log, she inched out behind a tree. A brown hooded robe, ginger hair, and glasses. In the fire light her face looked thin, and he realized her hand wasn't just slender. It was malnourished. It reminded him of Feitan's frame when he was little. He rested his chin in his hand and watched her down another cup of stew. Instead of retreating to the shadows she stayed on the outer most edge of the fire light where it barely reached her.
“Can you understand what I'm saying?” Chrollo spoke calmly, he didn't want to accidentally scare her off. Whoever she was, she needed help. Although he knew her situation must've been unfortunate, he was rather relieved it wasn't an admirer. She looked at him but gave no indication of understanding what he had said. She got up and walked back into the darkness. He walked over to see where she had gone but stopped when he saw the ground. Paw prints. Big ones too. Was she not human? He knew of mythical beasts that lived in the woods, but again she didn't seem like she had any survival skills that a wood dwelling creature would have. He decided not to follow her, he had a feeling she wouldn't be gone long, and he didn't want to chance threatening her.
It had been a couple hours, and he was about to put the fire out for the night when she returned. She stood at the edge of the fire light holding the copy of The Mighty Sweeping Power Cleaners out to him. He slowly got up, trying his best to be as non-threatening as possible as he walked over to take it. Up close he could see the left lense of her glasses had a crack in it. Her eyes were a vibrant blue that almost seemed to glow in the low light. Everything else was covered by the hood and the robe.
“What's your name?” He spoke slowly, maybe she could pick out a word or two. She looked frustrated, like she wanted to speak but she couldn't. After a few stuttered noises, she pointed to herself.
“Aamu.”
“Aamu?” He pointed at her and repeated it. She nodded in agreement. “Chrollo.” He said pointing at himself.
“Ku ro ro.” She repeated. Having only said his name, he could tell she wasn't from anywhere around here. It sounded like her tongue wasn't even accustomed to forming those vowels. There wasn't much else he could do for her at the moment. The fire was dying and the moon was high.
“Goodnight, Aamu.” He turned to his tent and replaced his comic book. He looked behind where she had been standing, and she was gone again.
The next morning she appeared as he was making breakfast. He had set a handful of small basic traps around to catch squirrels, rabbits, and other small critters. Being raised near the forest in Meteor City he knew enough basic survival skills, on top of what he had picked up from books, to be able to survive in a harsh environment. The forest was no harsh environment by any means, the people in town were right. Nothing bigger than a fox lived in these woods. Which was strange considering how large and abundant they were. Aamu stood by the tree line again, not hiding but also not approaching. She was apprehensive. He looked down and realized he had forgotten his hands were still covered in blood from skinning the rabbit he had caught. The animal was already chunks of meat floating in the pot of stew he was making. Just a couple hundred feet away was a small river, so he left the pot to boil and washed his hands off. When he came back she had a thick leather bound book in her hands, and she was a few feet closer to the campfire.
“Ku ro ro,” he looked up at her curiously from his seat on the fallen log. She inched over to him from the other side of the campfire. Keeping herself as concealed as possible with her robe still, she held out her book to show him a map spread across two pages. Immediately he recognized Yorbia, Jappon, Azia, and all the other continents he was familiar with, but there were more. She had drawn the map as though the countries he knew sat in the middle of a lake, with more land surrounding it. She pointed to the ground, and then pointed to the center of the map, and tilted her head as if she were asking a question. He interpreted this as asking where they were on the map, so he took the pencil and made a small dot on the middle of the east coast of Yorbia. She motioned for the pencil back, but before giving it up Chrollo pointed at her, and then pointed to the center of the map while mimicking her same head tilt. She turned the book around and made a small mark on it, flipping it back around to show him. She had marked the west coast of the land he didn't recognize.
“Ixtal.” She said while pointing to the mark she had just made.
“Ixtal?” All he could do was repeat what he assumed was the name of her home back to him. He had never heard of any place named Ixtal before, let alone the land on the map she had designated as her home. He rested his hand in his chin, trying to rationalize the entire situation. For the first time he noticed her robe was imprinted with a design of leaves on its seam. This wasn't just any old dirty robe, it looked to be finely made. Wherever she had come from, wherever Ixtal was, it must've been at least a some what developed civilization. That would explain why she was unable to survive in the woods. He was fully convinced now she also wasn't human. That would explain hiding underneath the robe. Why had she come here? All the way to the east coast of Yorbia, it had to be a difficult journey alone for somebody lacking in survival skills. She would've had to cross two oceans and a continent to end up here. She crouched down and began scribbling on a new page in her book. After a minute or two she turned it around to show an incredibly rough sketch of him. Had Chrollo not been himself, he'd have no idea who it was.
“Ku ro ro” She was pointing at a space left above the rough sketch, and motioning for him to take the pencil. Taking the book from her he could only assume she wanted him to write his name above the portrait.
“Chrollo” He tried to correct her pronunciation. He was unsuccessful.
“Ku roro” Close enough. After taking her book back, Aamu reached into her robe and handed him a tomato. Puzzled once more Chrollo could only squint his eyes in confusion as he looked at her. She was staring at him, and when he gave no other reaction to the tomato she scribbled something in her book. Closing it and placing it back inside her robe, she got up to leave. After a few steps she turned around, and raised her hand without moving it. With that Aamu walked off back into the wilderness. He went over to check the tracks she had left behind, and he confirmed once more that they definitely weren't human.
Unsure of how to spend his day, he knew he needed to be searching for a Nen exorcist. However he thought back to his fortune: East is the direction to go. You will find one who awaits you. Enjoy the interlude. Be patient with your shadow. There was a chance Aamu could be the Nen exorcist he was looking for. It was just a hunch as he hadn't been given any evidence that she even knew what Nen was, but the entire situation surrounding her was so bizarre that if she was a Nen exorcist it would be the most normal thing about it all. He decided he wanted to see how things would unfold with this strange shadow of his, but she didn't show again for the rest of the day.
The next morning, she showed up again at the same time. Just as he was making breakfast. This time she wasn't as hesitant to step towards him, he had remembered to wash his hands promptly after skinning his meal. Still hiding underneath the robe she walked up to where he sat on the log. Book in hand as she offered him a flower. It wasn't anything spectacular, just a small white flower. They littered the forest floor. He took it, once again not understanding what she was trying to communicate. If anything at all. Just as she had done after handing him the tomato, she stared as if expecting a reaction, and when he gave none she began to scribble in her book. She closed the book, crouching down by the log. Fidgeting with the grass she pointed at the campfire where his breakfast was beginning to boil. Chrollo wasn't one to turn away the hungry, but he was curious as to what she had been scribbling in her book. So he filled his only bowl, and offered it to her. As she went to take it he held it back, and pretended like he was writing in the air. It got the message across as Aamu handed her book over without hesitation. He was flipping through the pages as she downed the bowl of squirrel and tomato stew.
The first couple pages looked like a table of contents, after that was the two page spread of the map, followed by a few pages of a language he couldn't read and didn't recognize. He found the portrait of himself and on the page adjacent a small drawing of a tomato with an X next to it and a few lines of the same language. Underneath the tomato was a small drawing of a flower which also had an X next to it again with a few lines of the unrecognizable language. It took him a second, but it began to click in his brain. She was recording his reactions. She was studying him. That's why she was so far away from home, she was more than likely trying to study humans. Putting Aamu's book down he got up and retrieved the comic book from his tent. If she had made the journey this far from home to study them, then she must be smart, and if she was smart then she could learn his language. If he could communicate with her then he wouldn't have to play a game a charades with every interaction. Instead of returning to the log, he crouched down next to her. She was eyeing him cautiously. He opened the comic to the first page and pointed at the words as he read them. He remembered teaching Uvogin how to read, it had been a challenge with him and he already spoke the language. She understood immediately what he was doing, intently watching his finger move across the page. After reading the entire comic book to her, she opened up her journal and began flipping through the pages. That's when he saw something that made him do a double take. It was the next page following his portrait, there was another very roughly drawn sketch of a person. They had a mane of hair, with bushy eyebrows accompanied by even bushier side burns framing a mean face, an incredibly muscular frame with a tank top, shorts, and what he could only imagine was fur on his hips and legs. Uvogin. Chrollo's head was spinning. How? Why? When? He was pouring through every detail in his head, but nothing made sense.
“Who is this?” He pointed at the rough sketch of who he assumed was Uvogin in her journal.
“Oo vo geen” Aamu replied with out any hesitation, confirming his suspicions She handed him the pencil, and pointed at the space above the drawing. He understood what she wanted, and his hand shook a little while he wrote it. Uvogin. All of the anxiety that had plagued Chrollo before Aamu found him came crashing back down on him. Did she have something to do with the chain user? He couldn't make sense of any of it.
“Ku roro,” She pointed towards the tree line as if there was something there, “Oo vo geen.” She stood up and walked over to where she had pointed. All he was could do was stare in a stun locked silence. Aamu looked up, as though she were looking at somebody much taller than her and pointed to where she was looking.
“Oo vo geen.”
Chrollo was now determined to teach her his language as fast as he possibly could. It was the only way he was going to be able to figure any of this out.
They spent the next couple days in the same routine. Aamu would show up when he was making breakfast, Chrollo would either go over the alphabet, the comic book, or general words and introductions. It was difficult to explain what scenarios required which words, so he ended up spending a lot of time drawing in the dirt in an attempt to teach her. Luckily he was right, she was smart and she caught on incredibly fast. Today however he needed to go into town for supplies, and he didn't want Aamu to follow him as there was a chance the police would recognize her. She still hadn't removed her hooded robe, although a few times he had seen soft looking paws stick out from underneath it.
“Kuroro! Hello!” She was excited whenever she greeted him.
“Hello Aamu. I need you to stay here today,” she clearly didn't quite understand what he was saying, “Aamu stay here.” He pointed at her, and then pointed at the ground.
“Staaay, here?” She pointed at herself and then at the ground and back again.
“Yes stay here. I'll come back.”
“Yes! Okay!” As he was leaving she sat on the log going over the comic book.
He was making his way back to the camp when he realized how bad he smelled. That was one of the things he had needed from the town, he forgot to get soap the last time he was there. He took a detour to the river near camp instead of heading straight back. It would be easier than having to tell her to wait again. He was pouring over everything that had happened as he made his way. The most logical explanation for Aamu knowing Uvogin's name and appearance was that it had to be Nen related. Maybe she could see past events? He thought of Neon's ability which allowed her to predict the future. An ability that allowed him to see the past of others could be incredibly useful for him and the Troupe. Did that mean his earlier hypothesis of Aamu being his Nen exorcist was wrong? Or did this mean it was right? Still lost in thought he reached the river and hugged the treeline as he walked, there was a shallow part farther up stream where it would be easier to bathe. The forest was rather dense in some areas, so he didn't see her until he turned to walk down the riverbank to the shallow area. He snapped out of his thoughts as soon as he saw somebody already occupying the place he intended to bathe. Quickly ducking back to the treeline, he was glad that he was a naturally soft stepper as he saw a brown hooded robe hanging from a tree closest to the river.
By no means was he a pervert, Chrollo had always respected the privacy of all the women in the Phantom Troupe. He was a murderer, a thief, a criminal, many things, but never a creep. However he was also an incredibly curious person, and he had the opportunity to see why Aamu had been hiding under the robe this whole time. How could he not take it? Moving with an amount of stealth he rarely ever used, his eyes followed the river bank, to the shallow part, to an undressed Aamu. She was kneeling down in the shallow water with her back to him. Bunny ears the same color as her shoulder length ginger hair. With pale blotches along her shoulders, back, and hips that almost looked like they formed a Rorschach test. Everything below her ginger puff ball tail was covered in the water. She was a rabbit. A human rabbit? Even being as far away as he was, he could still see she how skeletal she looked. He found himself wondering how long she had been starving out here. Fortunately, that was something he accounted for on his supply run and he made sure he got enough food to feed two.
Spiders and Spirits
Chapter 1
Pairing: Chrollo x Fem OC Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Light Angst Chapter Wordcount: 6,092
Aamu journeys to the Continent of Yorbia to study humans, she runs into none other than Chrollo Lucilfer. Is she the Nen exorcist he's been looking for? Is he the monster she's been raised to believe all humans are? Aamu is determined to unravel the mysteries of humanity, but she quickly learns that'll be no easy feat!
Author's Note: Ahhh hello! This is my first attempt at a fanfic but I've been loving every minute of writing it, I already have the second chapter finished. This first chapter is all context and integrating the main character Aamu into the hxh universe (if any of it sounds familiar it's because I borrowed a lot of it from the League of Legends universe). I hope you enjoy! o7
Tens of thousands of years ago in a time now forgotten by all but books, there were humans on the Dark Continent. They were a small population that chose to live under a World Tree where the roots dug into a mountain range. They were dust in the wind compared to the world around them, with short lives and frail bodies they possessed no inherent abilities unlike the other magical beasts. With minuscule lives the other creatures of the world payed them no mind unless they were looking for a snack. That was until the humans learned of Nen, the ability to harness ones life aura and turn it into a powerful tool. This would allow them to rise up on the food chain, becoming more than they were. But it would also be their downfall. The existence of humanity had not been long enough to know of the Titans and the dangers of living off the World Tree. Titans were ancient beings, if one didn't know any better they'd compare them to gods. Remnants of their existence lay scattered through out the land, the swords they wielded lay stuck in the Earth, towering next to mountains.
One day the Titans, larger than the mountains themselves, came to cut down the world tree that humanity resided under and as for what reason nobody could know or understand. Death and destruction lay in the Titan's wake for not even the strongest of Nen users stood a chance against them. Humanity knew that losing the protection of the World Tree would mean they'd go extinct, their population was small and even with Nen there were much stronger beasts out there. In a last ditch act of desperation, a group pooled the entirety of their life aura and exchanged their humanity for the power to defeat the Titans and thus the Vastayashai'rei were born into existence. No longer mortals but not quite gods, the Vastayashai'rei were powerful beings that brought down the Titans and saved humanity from extinction. Once all had settled and returned to normal, rather than rule humanity as its saviors the Vastayashai'rei chose to live among the humans. From their intermingling came the Vastaya, new magical creatures born from humans and the enlightened mortals. Each descendant of the Vastayashai'rei went on to form their own tribe of Vastayans as no two were exactly the same. For a time all was well, humanity thrived with it's newfound Nen abilities and an era of peace reigned. Unfortunately, as a condition of exchanging their humanity for the ability to defeat the Titans, the Vastayashai'rei slowly disappeared over the millenia until they became nothing more than a bedtime story. Where they went nobody knows and if they still exist is just as much a mystery.
Over time a rift grew between the Vastaya and the Humans. Their natures differed too greatly to co exist without their enlightened ancestors, where Humans wished to conquer and grow the Vastaya wanted only what they needed to live. War broke out between the two races. The Vastaya had the advantage, their Nen was different from the Human's, they were not only able to harness their own life force but the life force of the natural world around them. They were connected to the natural world in a way that Humans were not. This caused Humanity to lose the war against the Vastayan people. They were banished and sent to far away lands where their greed could be contained.
“... And so the Vastayans went on to populate the World Tree, with each tribe choosing their own part of the tree to inhabit. The tribes of the sky took to the branches far above, the land walkers stayed near the base on the mountain ranges, and Earth tribes dug into the roots of the tree below.”
“And what happened next?” a small Vastayan child, among a gathering of them, was enamored by the story.
“Well now we live peacefully with each other and the world around us. Taking only what we need to survive and giving back what we can.” A clock struck noon, and with that story time in the library came to an end.
“Bye Miss Aamu!” A handful of the small humanoid children with animal features said goodbyes as they dashed away to find something else that would hold their attentions until supper. Vastayans were only half human, the other half of them being from the Vastayashai'rei, which manifested in the form of animalistic qualities. The tribes of the sky took on the forms of anything with wings from birds to butterflies. The land walkers having it in their name take on any creature you'd find traversing the earth's surface. With the Earth tribes you'd see qualities of moles, rats, spiders, and anything else burrowing underground. Their animal characteristics weren't just for show either, which is why each tribe chose the best part of the tree to inhabit for their respective qualities.
“Miss Aamu?” the same child that asked what happened next was inquiring her again. Inching closer to where she was sitting
“Yes Ymir?”
“Were the humans really real?”
“Yes of course! These stories aren't fiction, our ancestors were really humans.” Ymir's fluffy ears perked up telling she had another question, she was a chatty one. Aamu imagined this is how Ornn, her father, must have felt raising her. An endless stream of questions to every piece of information given.
“Are they still alive?” Ymir was practically crawling onto her lap now.
“Well unfortunately they may have gone extinct by now. After the tribes came together to banish them, that was the last we ever knew of their existence.” She could tell another question was already en route, “Now run along, I have important studies to return to you can ask more questions at tomorrow's reading.” Ymir slumped off her lap and ran off the way the other children had gone.
Aamu spent most of her day in the Royal Library, she was a scholar, intelligent with a never ending desire for knowledge. The stories she read of extinct races, ancient wars, and the history of the world kept her entertained from dawn to dusk. She triple checked the research papers of other scholarly Vastayans, and on rare occasions even traveled to the other tribes in search of more to learn. The last trive she ventured out to was in the uppermost branches of the World Tree. There were tunnels and stair cases carved from the tree's trunk that allowed most to travel between tribes, although few ever did. She had met with the Strig tribe, a lovely group of humanoid butterfly people. They danced and floated in the air in a way that mimicked flower petals, using their wings that shimmered in the sunlight.
There wasn't a book she hadn't at least skimmed through in that library. To her the castle, Ixtal, was home. Having been carved from the World Tree trunk by the humans, it was a gorgeous palace; the entrance was a wide open court yard embedded into the trunk, with decorative flowers hand carved into every pillar. The floors were lined with stone that fit together to form a large star in the center. From there vast hallways split off into different parts of the castle, one went to the library which was open to the public. Everything from floor to ceiling was decorated with a healthy amount of flora and fauna whether it be imprinted as a design or growing directly on it. The library contained most of the information that the land walker tribes had in their possession. Floor after floor of row after row of books, you could find anything you wanted to know in there. This is where Aamu had learned of humans and how Vastayans were descendants of them. Apart from the library there were upper and lower levels of the castle. The upper levels were where Aamu and Avarosa the Seer stayed, the lower levels were for Ornn the Forgemaster. Together the two of them ruled over the land walker tribes, the sky and earth tribes had their own respective leaders.
The leaders of tribes were more closely related to their Vastayashai'rei ancestors. They were stronger, lived longer, and had much less human in their blood lines. Aamu was by no means a leader of any sort, she didn't have more Vastayashai'rei blood than the average Vastayan. Some days she felt like she had more human blood in her than anything else. She had always had trouble getting along with the other kids growing up, that's why she chose to bury herself in her books.
“My child, Aamu...” She woke, a bit startled but awake. “it is late, you should return to your room.” She had fallen asleep in the library face down in a book. Again. The library was dark and quiet, a small gathering of fireflies had found their way in from the open courtyard. Aamu often felt more at peace here at night in the library than her own room.
“Ah Mother, I'm sorry it won't happen again” She gathered her things, a notebook, books, pencils, her glasses, and started for the hallway.
“Is something wrong Aamu?” She really couldn't hide anything from her, she had earned her title of Seer rightfully so. She turned around to face the leader. Avarosa was a sight to behold, she stood twice as tall as any other Vastayan. A long slender form covered in neatly groomed white fur that glittered as if it were covered in star dust, she looked much like a white doe. She was always wearing the same floor length dress that trailed behind her, nothing short of what a Queen would wear. It was white with small pale pastel accents and even smaller moonstone gems sown into the silky fabric. She wore a a veil at all times, it was made of the same white silky fabric. Atop her head was a crown of antlers just as pale and iridescent as her fur. Grand wouldn't even begin to explain her crown of antlers, no words could truly describe her beauty for that matter.
“Mother I'm not like you and father.” she paused as she tried to gather what she wanted to say, “I know I'm not your true heir, but I do wish to live up to your legacy, your name, you've raised me as your own and I want to be great like you one day. Father is unrivaled in his craftsmanship, you are capable of looking into the future, and I-” she paused once more trying to find the words again. “I sit around and read books all day, dreaming of being worth something to the world.”
“Oh my dear child come here,” Avarosa pulled her from the doorway and into her arms. Aamu couldn't help but tear up. “You are right, you aren't born from Ornn and I, but that doesn't mean you aren't capable of incredible things. Look to your books, the scholars who came before you, they will guide you. If you want to change the world do it in your own way. Don't despise what you love because you think it can't be worth something to the world.” Even her voice was queenly, it was soft and easy to listen to. No matter what room she was in, whatever she said echoed ever so slightly. Aamu sat quietly in the embrace for a moment, letting the words of comfort wash over her worries.
“Thank you mother, goodnight I love you.” Aamu pulled away and left for her room.
“I love you too, my little one.”
She had been turning her mothers words over and over again in her head. Avarosa always had a rather vague way of speaking, but it was comforting nonetheless.
---
“Care for some company?” that was an all too familiar voice.
“Why not.” she replied indifferently.
“You've been sulking around for a couple days now. Is everything alright?” If anybody were to notice her sulking of course it would be Wukong.
“I've been trying to figure out how I'm going to be great.”
“How you're going to be great?” He had a high pitched nasally voice, more than likely because of his squished monkey nose. He was quite literally a monkey. Covered head to toe in brown fur, round ears, and a prehensile tail. This of course wasn't anything of a disadvantage for him, he was a skilled fighter. A naturally nimble build and incredibly dangerous when he was using his Nen. Wukong came from the Shimon tribe, a curious group of monkey-faced people who perferred to live in the forest surrounding the World Tree. Known for their love of fruit and mischief, he and Aamu quickly became friends after she had been taken in by the leaders. Where one fibbed the other followed closely behind. A notorious duo that wreaked havoc on whatever poor adults had been left in charge of them.
“Exactly. Avarosa and Ornn both have titles, even you are a prodigy fighter I'm sure one day they'll call you something cool. Like the Monkey King.” Aamu stifled a laugh knowing that was the lamest title she could have possibly come up with and it made him giggle.
“I would be the best Monkey King in all the land!” He jumped up on the table they were sitting at, back flipping into the air and landing on one hand with grace. The bit of armor he was wearing clanged together.
“Quiet down won't you, we're in the library!” She scolded him knowing full well he was going to react the way he did tothe 'Monkey King' title.
“Oh my apologies you're highness.” He put on a posh accent, threw his red scarf back over his shoulder and bowed as he got off the table. They sat in silence for a moment, Aamu's focus had been stolen by a small spirit making its way across the table. They were tiny little things no bigger than half a foot tall that only Aamu could see. They were all white with little blue spirals on their bellies, although they did vary slightly in size and shape.
“You're capable of such fine tuned Nen control that you can slip past even the best of our guards. And all I can do is talk to little spirits nobody else can see.”
“It's cause' you're not a fighter Aamu.”
“But what if I could be then I could do something important, something worthwhile!” She knew it was wishful thinking, she had been considerably more brain than brawn her whole life. It was in her nature as a Vastayan, she was born delicate. With soft skin covered by patches of even softer thin fur, she had paws instead of feet and the legs of a rabbit. She was built to run away from danger, not fight it. Her two large ginger colored rabbit ears had aided her in mischief as a child, as she was capable of hearing the guards walking down the halls before they were of any real concern. But that was as much 'danger' as she had ever really gotten herself into.
“Avarosa isn't a fighter, and of all the leaders she's probably the weakest in Nen strength. But she makes up for it with her Nen being an incredible tool. You should look at your nen as a tool, not a weapon. I'm an enhancer of course I'm going to be a strong fighter.” Wukong made a good point, Aamu was a manipulator. When she learned of her Nen class she had been rather excited and knew immediately what she wanted to do with it. She developed her ability to control the little spirits around her, sometimes they'd even talk to her in just barely audible whispers. When she chose to make the spirits apart of her ability she hadn't really thought about how useful it would be. In all honesty it had never really been that useful at all, the spirits were small and meek. She knew they were made of life aura, being able to see them wasn't apart of her Nen ability but rather something she was born with as a Vastayan. She wasn't entirely sure what the spirits were, whether they were residuals of life aura that were left behind in death or perhaps they existed in the spirit realm unaffected by the material world. For whatever reason, unless she was manipulating them with Nen, she was the only one who could see them. This made it hard to talk about their existence, and to avoid being labeled a crazy person she would tell people she could conjure them. Aamu had tried manipulating the little white wisps in many different ways, she couldn't combine them to make a bigger one but she could manipulate their shape and to a degree their size. The quantity she could control at the same time depended on the amount of Nen she could use. She often recalled a fond memory of flooding Wukong's room with the tiny things, watching as they latched on to his feet making it a struggle to get to the door. Without Aamu's Nen being used on them they had the consistency of fog, but when she pulled them into the physical world they had the consistency of something goopy that solidified when force was applied. If too much force was applied then they would turn back into mist and they'd disappear from both the spirit realm and the material world.
“You like your books so much why don't you try studying something?” Wukong continued as she had been lost in thought again. He could tell she was thinking hard, all he got for a reply was a hum.
“What if I proved humans still existed?”
“I'm sorry what-”
“What if I went to the lands where they had been banished and proved they still existed?”
“Aamu that sounds like a terrible idea,” but he knew it was too late, he saw the spark in her eye and there was no stopping her now.
“And even if they've gone extinct surely they left behind ruins or records. I could find them and study them!” She was ecstatic, “Oh I hope they aren't extinct what if I got to bring one back home and-”
“Wait wait wait! Bring one home? Here? Where they were banished from? Aamu this is absurd.”
“But Wu, what if they've changed. What if they aren't the savage beasts that we depict them as in our history books?” Her heart was ablaze at the prospect of new information.
“Hold on for just a minute! First of all, I wouldn't go placing your bets on a savage beast not being a savage beast. I'm just saying whether our history is accurate or not, there's a reason they were banished. Forever.” He continued on but Aamu didn't hear any of it, she was already working on a plan in her head.
---
“Ornn,” Avarosa's voice rang through the forge with the sound of metal working, “I saw it last night, it is time.”
“It's too soon.” His voice wasn't just deep, it was nearly a growl that just barely escaped his lungs.
“I warned you this day would come and now it is upon us. We can't hold her back.” The only reply Avarosa received was the sound of a hammer continuing its battery of the metal that lay before it.
“Ornn, she is going to leave with or without your approval.”
“I am aware.”
“My love, let us send her out in goodwill. She wishes to find meaning in her life through her studies-”
“I should've never given her those books. They would've been more useful as embers.” Ornn felt guilt for having fed into his daughters craving for knowledge so much. If he had known those books would be the reason she left home, he would've burned the whole library down. But it was too late now.
“We can not keep her safe, but we can prepare her. Give her something to take on her journey, something that will aid her.” Avarosa stepped closer to the forgemaster placing a slender hand gently on his shoulder, the inferno had died down. It was as if the he was connected to the forge itself, the fire within him fueled it. Ornn gave no reply, but after a moment of silence the inferno began to blaze again. She had gotten through to him, now it was time to leave him to his craft.
---
“Mother!” Aamu went bounding down the hall to her mothers room. “Mother I've figured it out!” She burst into the room nearly bouncing off the walls with joy.
“Yes my dearest?” She was sitting on her bed, the room was spacious as she was twice the height of the tallest Vastayans.
“I'm going to study humans! The last we ever knew of them was when they were banished ages ago, nobody has ever kept any record of them since, that would mean I would be the first!” She was smiling ear to ear, a complete flip from the sulky mood she'd been in for the past several days. Avarosa loved seeing the fire in her, she wanted nothing more than to fan the flames.
“That's a wonderful idea, however I'm sure you must know it is terribly dangerous.” As much as she loved to see her daughter full of life, she knew this journey would more than likely be the reason she never saw her again. Her future telling had limits as any Nen ability does. She could only see the future of somebody if they were standing right in front of her, and it wasn't just one future. She saw an endless spectrum of possibilities. Each a little different from the last, some more likely than others.
“Well yes if they haven't gone extinct then it would be dangerous, but maybe-” she had no idea what she was trying to say, of course it would be dangerous. Even if she never made any contact with a human, she would be traveling alone to unknown lands with a worlds worth of sea between her and home.
“Maybe that's what you're looking for,” Avarosa had seen so many futures for her daughter, in every one where she stayed safe and protected in the castle, she was unhappy. “My little one I've known this day would come for years. If this is what you wish then I will aid you in your journey.”
“Thank you, mother” Aamu was tearing up again, “I have to go tell father.”
She knew her father wouldn't be as accepting of the idea of her leaving the castle as her mother had been. He wasn't known for being an open minded individual, he was a strong Vastayan rooted in his ways. She made her way down to the lower levels of the castle where the forge was. The wood became charred the lower she went and before long she stood before two towering iron doors. They were hot to the touch, the inferno in there could only be withstood by one person, Ornn himself. This is where he worked tirelessly, on anything from the powerful tools that boosted ones Nen to the most finely cut precious gems. He was capable of producing indestructible weapons with delicate craftsmanship, there was nothing he couldn't do with a hammer. She knocked on the door, it was about as loud as dropping a couple rocks on the ground. But she heard the metal working from within cease and after a few more moments the doors opened. She nervously hopped inside. She wasn't fearful of her father, he was a gentle man with a kind heart but even after being cooled the heat of his forge was intimidating.
“So father,” she paused asking herself how she was going to even being this conversation. Deciding that beating around the bush would do nothing. “I going to go study humans.”
There was a long pause as he looked up from his workbench where he was tanning leather. He was just as tall as Avarosa, but more than tripled her size in muscle. He was covered in sections of thick black fur, and the skin that wasn't covered was just as dark. He looked as though he himself were an ember in a forge responsible for hellfire. A large black bushy beard adorned his face with equally bushy eyebrows. The only hint that he could see through it all was the firey red glow from his eyes. Atop his head were a set of large black horns, they spiraled out to the sides like that of an overgrown ram. The tip of each horn was crackled with a firey red glow the same as his eyes. Ornn the Forgemaster was truly an intimidating sight to see. The stark contrast between Avarosa and Ornn's appearances made her wonder what the leaders of the other tribes looked like.
“Why is that.” His gruff voice had finally broke the silence.
“Well I want to do something great, something that will change the world,” she waited for a response but knew he was waiting for more of an explanation. “and I'm tired of sitting in these walls and reading books all day.”
“So you want an adventure.” He kept his replies short, he never was one for talking much.
“I want more from life father,” she began to lose her composure. “I see everybody around me doing incredible things and I know it's dangerous but I want to do something too! I can't just live my life complacently with knowing I never tried.”
The only reply she received was a low grumble as he went to continue his work. She knew the conversation was over. Quite frankly it had gone better than she expected, there wasn't an outright no just grumbles of disapporval.
---
“Aamu stop-” Wukong chased after her up the stairs to Ixtal's entrance, “Would you please just listen-” She would not. It had been a week since she told her father she wanted to journey to the human lands. Unknowingly fulfilling Avarosa's prophecy, she decided she was going to leave with or without his permission. Wukong had spent the past week tailing her, desperately trying to convince her this would only end horribly.
“Humans are foul beasts they'll skin you alive for your pelt! They'll hunt you down and eat the meat raw from your bones!” He continued his desperate attempts of dissuading her.
“You don't know that. Nobody knows anything about them.” Aamu only felt more steeled in her convictions. She could prove that humans weren't what the history books portrayed them as. After all Vastayans were partially human, surely they wouldn't be horrible savage beasts with nothing but greed and hate in their hearts. The two reached the top of the stairs and immediately noticed the courtyard was devoid of all life, except for Ornn standing in the center of it.
“Uh- I'm gonna let you uh- handle this.” Wukong disappeared in an instant. Ornn rarely left his forge, and when he did it was for an important reason. To see him standing idly in the middle of the courtyard was enough to intimidate even Aamu. Was he going to stop her? If anybody could it would be him. She tried to calm her nerves as she skittishly walked over to greet her him. Before she could get a word out he kneeled down, still towering over her, he held his hand out and opened it. It looked like he was holding a child's toy in his massive calloused hands. It was a thin wand made of pale wood with silver plating along its handle. It came to a fine tipped point and on the other end a beauitful ultramarine gemstone was embedded into the silver surrounding it. A Tear of the Goddess gemstone. These were incredibly rare gems, known to be protective talismans, it was believed that any who possessed one would be blessed with good fortune for as long as they had it. Along the silver handle was an inscription Aamu recognized to be Divine Script. It was a type of inscription that would boost a user's Nen ability considerably. There were a handful of people in the entire world that were capable of producing it as it required an unimaginable amount of Nen and precise attention to detail.
“You are my daughter. I'd give anything to protect you from the horrors of this world. This will help you in your studies. You won't be invincible, but should danger show this will help you escape.” Aamu was at a loss for words, and after a moment of silence took the wand from her father's hand.
“Thank you father, I-” She didn't know what to say, or if there even was anything to say.
“Promise me you'll come home one day.”
“I promise.” She jumped up to hug him, tears forming in her eyes.
---
She began to prepare for her journey and in less than a week she was ready to go. Aamu wanted to strike while the iron was hot, fearing that Wukong's tales of what humans were capable of would waver her confidence. Of all the survival guides she had read, traveling light seemed to be the best option. Being weighed down by unnecessary things could be a death sentence. Regardless of what the books said she would be unable to bring much with her save for the wand, her book, and the clothes on her back. All she had left to do was say her goodbyes. Making her way down the halls, she meandered through the castle. It would be a long while before she ever saw this place again. Upon reaching the courtyard her best friend sat cross legged waiting for her.
“So you're really leaving.” Wukong had never sounded this defeated before, Aamu wondered if he had ever failed to do anything. Maybe being unable to convince her not to go was the first time he was incapable of doing something.
“Don't be so sullen, you know I do plan on coming back. No point in my studies if I never come back to share what I've learned.”
“Aamu promise me you'll stay away from anything dangerous.” Wukong wasn't concerned on whether she had plans to come home or not, he was worried she would die out there. He knew she wasn't a fighter, in his eyes she was fragile and delicate like a flower in spring. There had been several times in their child hood he fought off anything looking to cause harm to her. A snake in the grass, a bully on the playground, even another mythical beast after they ventured a bit too far from the World Tree.
“I promise Wu, I'll stay safe out there,” she grabbed the wand that was tied to her hip. “Look at what father made for me! It has a Tear of the Goddess and Divine Script on it.” It was truly a testament to Ornn's craftsmanship, and it only took him a week to produce.
“Aamu I-” he paused, he knew what he wanted to say but was unsure if it was the right words, “If you don't come home, I'm gonna come find you.” This made her giggle, and a weight set in on his heart. Would this be the last time he heard that sound?
Aamu was in her room rereading as many wilderness survival guides as she could. There was one book in the entire library that had information about the nature of humans. Although the accuracy of said information was questionable, it was at least a start. It said that humans were fond of gifts, especially gifts of food or anything shiny. They were social creatures that lived in packs and relied heavily on hierarchy to maintain peace among themselves. Much like Vastayans strong humans lead the weaker ones, however the stronger humans were much more likely to be aggressive. She had quickly realized that there would be a language barrier, there was no record of any language the humans spoke. All Aamu could find was that they were capable of speaking many different languages. She decided the first step in her study would be to learn their language through observation. Not wanting to place her hope in a human wanting to teach her the language. A small knock on her doorway pulled her from her thoughts.
“My little one, the Waystone is ready,” The Waystone was how Aamu was going to be getting to the human lands, and the reason why she couldn't bring much. It was incredibly difficult to even send one person through, and the more she carried with her the more likely the Waystone would fail. They were originally built by humans to travel far distances quickly and safely. They were also what the Vastayans used to banish them. A select few warriors were sent through the Waystones to destroy the ones that would bring anybody back to Ixtal. Now all but one remained, it was used on special occasions when a Vastayan would commit a crime so vile, they would be banished to join their savage counter parts. It didn't happen often, but it wasn't unheard of in a lifetime.
Aamu gathered her things, really it was just the book and the wand. She was dressed in her best survival gear. It unfortunately wasn't much of survival gear at all, she had never been a fighter or a survivalist. But in the short amount of time she prepared, she was able to find leather guards that covered her ankles to her thighs. A thicker white fur coat, with a white sleeveless wool knit turtleneck underneath. The leather guards came to about her mid thigh, so she opted for a pair of pale blue shorts woven from a breathable fabric. She wasn't sure if the Waystone would drop her in a hot or cold climate so she needed to be dressed for both of them. She knew she would stick out like a sore thumb near humans, she needed a way to hide her rabbit features. She had long ginger colored ears, a puff ball tail the same color, and rabbit feet. Throwing a brown floor length hooded robe over her head, it wasn't perfect it would make due. Making her way to the door where her mother stood, she grabbed her glasses and walked out.
The Waystone resided in Ornn's forge, it had taken him a full day of work to get it running again. The technology was lost with the humans, but he knew how to operate it. On the floor was a stone circle with gems embedded into the outer ring. Three stone pillars came up to meet in the center of the circle creating an archway. Where the pillars met a large gem covered in Divine Script sat on top of it. Only somebody with an immense amount of life aura could activate the device, as the gems had to be overflowing with imbued Nen. Aamu stepped into the center of the stone circle and turned to face her parents. This was the last time she would see them, hopefully not forever.
“Aamu, take this with you,” Avarosa held out a ring, it was a polished silver band set with a shimmery opal surrounded by smaller white diamonds. It was stunning and looked priceless to say the least. “Humans take nicely to shiny gifts, save this one for a special human.”
“Thank you mother,” She looked to her parents, she could feel the tears beginning to swell. “I love you, both of you. I promise I'll come back one day.” She looked to her father who was waiting for her to give him the word to send her off. She nodded at him with tears streaming down her plump cheeks. With that the gems in the Waystone began to glow one by one as Nen flowed through them. The last thing she heard was her parents wishing her safe travels as a flash of blinding light filled her vision. By the time the two leaders eyes had readjusted, their daughter was long gone. Avarosa stood unwavering, staring at the now empty Waystone. A deep breath followed by a tear streaking her high cheek bone. Ornn turned to his workbench, and with the stature of a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he picked up his hammer to continue his work.
This is so goooood T-T
I kinda fucked up this art, but ok. Heavens arena, Hisoka vs Chrollo battle inspired. Love the moment with the judge hahahahaah.
I'm also on twitter
Chrollo. I just really like this frame in the manga, so I decided to draw this emotion, too
I'm also on twitter
Well I’m 8k words into a Chrollo fic, but my fear of putting my work on display is getting the better of me T-T
Please start making the world a better place. 🥺🥺😔 Chrollo fic please. 🫵
By the power invested in these creative hands I won’t rest until i release my chrollo fic o7