Conversation 43: X and Reconciliation? X Temporarily Ceases Hostilities

Kurama’s expression gave nothing away, but inwardly, he was a little taken aback. Judging from Chrollo’s earlier reaction, he had thought he’d finally managed to truly anger this meticulous and composed leader of thieves. He’d assumed that any future interaction between them would scarcely allow for such a gentle and friendly demeanor. Yet, unexpectedly, Chrollo was once again the first to extend a gesture of goodwill.

What exactly was he plotting? Or, more accurately, just how deep was his obsession with Mokona?

Vigilant at heart, Kurama watched as the black-haired youth approached uninvited, each step steady and assured, drawing ever closer to where Kurama stood with Illumi and Hisoka. Kurama arched an eyebrow, his expression shifting from the relaxed ease he’d worn in conversation with Illumi to one of inscrutable calm.

The space at the bottom of the tower, where qualified examinees gathered, was not small, but neither was it so vast that one could remain unnoticed. Though Chrollo’s pace was unhurried, just a few exchanges later, he had already come within a dozen meters of the trio.

But this time, he did not come closer. Instead, he stopped at a distance neither too near nor too far, and offered Kurama a courteous, gentle smile:

“May I come over, Mr. Kurama?”

— This was a clear signal of goodwill and an offer of truce.

Kurama’s lips curled in amusement.

“Why not?” he replied cheerfully. “Mr. Chrollo, you’re one of the few people I’ve come to know during this exam, and now, without Mr. Nobunaga at your side, you must be feeling quite lonely, aren’t you? As for the rest—”

“Pfft! Lonely? Sad? Pu-hahaha… Uh, sorry, sorry—go on, go on… pfft—”

Before Kurama could finish, a small burst of laughter interrupted him. Both Chrollo and Kurama turned to see the red-haired magician, Hisoka, leaning against Illumi’s shoulder, laughing uncontrollably.

Noticing their gazes, Hisoka puffed his cheeks and waved dismissively, signaling them not to mind him, but as he urged them to “carry on, carry on,” he could barely suppress his laughter, making it impossible to take him seriously. Both Chrollo and Kurama were left speechless.

— Chrollo was frustrated, while Kurama…

He wore a mask of helplessness, but inwardly, he was applauding Hisoka’s performance—well done, Hisoka! After countless failed attempts to provoke a fight (or something else?!) and being rebuffed, you finally managed to throw the leader off his stride!

If not for the presence of the person in question, a gilded trophy would be in order.

Well aware of what had triggered Hisoka’s laughter, the fox demon furtively touched his chin, and, unseen, exchanged a gleeful high-five with the white bundle nestled in his arms.

Chrollo could only sigh in resignation.

“I came to propose a temporary truce.”

Deciding that evasive conversation was ill-suited to the present situation, the leader chose to state his purpose directly.

Kurama raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“A truce?” He chuckled softly. “Mr. Chrollo, what are you talking about? I don’t recall ever being at war with you.”

This time, it was Chrollo who laughed aloud.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten the ‘gift’ you gave me earlier, have you?” The black-haired youth’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “It was truly…”

He paused deliberately, as if searching for the right word.

“…truly unforgettable.”

— Yes, unforgettable indeed. Those seemingly endless maddened beasts, attacking from all sides, the desperate, life-for-life assaults—if not for his Thief’s Mastery, Chrollo sincerely doubted whether he and Nobunaga could have left that mist-shrouded place unscathed.

He admitted that his misstep with Kurama was partly due to his own carelessness, but Kurama’s strength was nothing to be underestimated.

Twice now—members of the troupe had been outmaneuvered by him, both times without ever suspecting it. And the second time, Chrollo himself had been present throughout the operation.

If, after Nobunaga’s defeat, Chrollo had only regarded Kurama with interest and caution, now the youth’s threat level in his mind had risen considerably, just as he had predicted.

With the stakes higher, his tactics and plans shifted accordingly. What he’d said to console Nobunaga was indeed the troupe’s standard protocol, but there were always exceptions to the rules.

Just like the association’s chairman—he was not someone to whom the troupe’s usual standards could be applied.

The troupe were outlaws, but that did not mean they disregarded their own lives.

Those from Meteor City valued life less than anyone, yet cherished it more than anyone else. They would sacrifice everything for certain “principles” that seemed insignificant to others, but would not do so lightly.

And now, Chrollo judged that Kurama was not someone who could be treated by the troupe’s usual standards.

Thus, he chose to change his approach.

To extend an olive branch was the first step. To engage in open, honest conversation—within limits—was the second, and that was what Chrollo was now doing.

But Kurama’s response made him realize that the youth before him was far more troublesome than anticipated.

When Chrollo tried to go in circles, Kurama was more patient. When Chrollo tried to be direct, Kurama calmly circled right back around.

— The very picture of someone unflappable and immune to all persuasion or threat. It was enough to make one’s teeth itch in frustration.

Yet, Chrollo’s composure was impeccable. Even when forced to mention his own past embarrassment, not a trace of awkwardness showed on his face.

This earned him a measure of admiration from Kurama, who considered them, in a way, colleagues—both having been “created” by the same “father.”

“So that’s what you meant,” Kurama smiled.

“But that wasn’t any declaration of war!” The fox blinked innocently. “From what I heard from Mr. Nobunaga, you seemed very interested in rare and precious magical, phantom, and exotic beasts. The Zhumeile Wetlands are famed across the continent as a paradise for such creatures, so naturally I thought to give you a lavish gift, allowing you the chance to encounter rare beasts without even having to search.”

“Granted, the process was a bit arduous—but the results were excellent, weren’t they?”

He smiled sweetly, his expression radiant and charming.

Yet the chill in his words cut straight through to Chrollo.

The leader couldn’t help but pause.

He had assumed Kurama’s hostility and wariness toward him and Nobunaga stemmed from their previous failed operation; he hadn’t realized that the true source was not their targeting of Kurama himself, but their designs on that plump, white little creature…

His gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to the white bundle, Mokona, nestled in Kurama’s arms. Immediately, his expression grew subtle.

“…I was merely curious, that’s all.” After a moment’s silence and several swirling thoughts, the black-haired youth sighed softly, finally (or so it seemed) deciding to speak frankly. “That little creature in your arms—what species is it?”

“You see, I’ve searched through all records of rare creatures worldwide, even those known only in legend, but I’ve never found any mention of a being like this one.”

“—Except for one: in a scroll unearthed from the ancient Mogou Dynasty, appended to a mythic legend.”

“In that painting, a creature very much like this one was depicted as the god of creation.”

“—Ha! The god of creation!”

“Does such a being truly exist? That is all I wish to know.”

Unconsciously, the distance between the leader and Kurama had shrunk to less than half a meter.

He lounged lazily atop a thick moisture-proof mat, his face marked by a mingling of surprise and intrigue.

Kurama stood straight and composed before him, his breathtakingly handsome face utterly impassive.

The two—one seated, one standing—regarded each other in silence for a long moment.

Suddenly, the black-haired man extended his hand.

“Chrollo Lucilfer, leader of the Phantom Troupe.”

Kurama smiled and blinked, and under the gaze of those jet-black eyes, he reached out, clasping Chrollo’s hand briefly.

“Kurama, professional vagrant.”

“……………”

— Not only Chrollo, but even Hisoka and Illumi couldn’t help but twitch at the corners of their mouths.

The red-haired youth shrugged innocently.

“All right, just kidding,” he laughed. “I’m an enthusiast of rare treasures, currently indulging my interest in seeking out artifacts that catch my fancy around the world.”

“And by the way, this is Mokona, species unknown, but a companion, friend, and family member of utmost importance to me. No one is allowed to harm Mokona—otherwise, even if I must chase them to the very depths of hell, I’ll be sure to let them witness something far more terrifying and cruel.”

This was the first time Kurama had introduced Mokona to the three so earnestly. Firstly, he felt that he and Illumi now shared a certain rapport, and Mokona was comfortable enough around them to warrant a proper introduction. Secondly, it was to warn Chrollo once more of Mokona’s significance to him.

In truth, their self-introductions had served not just as a tacit truce, but also as an exchange of valuable information.

Chrollo had revealed the reason for his fixation on Mokona, and Kurama had provided the answer he wanted—he did not know Mokona’s species, but he was certain it had nothing to do with any so-called god of creation. (Whether that was true or not, Kurama offered no guarantees.)

Whether Chrollo believed him was beside the point; what mattered was that Kurama had drawn a clear line—if Chrollo did not wish to become his outright enemy, he should abandon all designs on Mokona.

It was not yet clear what decision the leader would ultimately make, but one thing was certain: at least until the end of this year’s Hunter Exam, Kurama need not worry about any further moves from him.

The fox’s strength, coupled with Chairman Netero’s covert supervision, constrained Chrollo’s actions. All he could do was quietly gather information—nothing more audacious.

This was one of the reasons he had chosen to seek reconciliation.

But as for how long this truce would last, and whether true understanding would ever be reached between Kurama and Chrollo…

That, no one could say.

＊＊＊

With the temporary truce agreed upon and Chrollo joining them, the group of four saw little change in their dynamic.

Hisoka pulled Illumi and Chrollo into another round of cards, while Kurama sat with Mokona, the two chattering away in delight.

When the other examinees, exhausted but successful, finally reached the bottom of the tower, the first sight that greeted them was these four, so relaxed and at ease it was enough to inspire envy.

— There was no denying it: the sight of these four striking young men, so effortlessly composed, was bound to draw resentment.

But those who’d made it this far were no fools; none would be so rash as to provoke them.

So, in this uneasy peace, as the final second of the third day ticked away, Gon’s group of five passed the test in truly stunning fashion, and the first phase of the third round officially came to an end.

The qualified examinees once again boarded the airship, heading to the next exam site—

Battleship Island.