Chrollo smiled at the sheer amount of people in front of him. All so helpless and doomed, yet the fire in their eyes, furious and defiant, was burning brightly. Not bright enough though, for him. These weren't nearly the brilliant shade of red he had heard of from the incompetent auctioneers; a dim version of the awestruck descriptions he had been given. They were lacking in beauty. Which meant that the people were lacking in emotion. How to fix this problem?

"Feitan," Chrollo said, giving the slightest of nods.

Feitan grinned behind his skull bandana. They'd discussed what to do in this situation back at the base, and he was more than happy to carry it out. Grumbling a short response, Feitan strolled into the crowd tied up in Machi's strings, glaring right back at the ones who eyed him with hate. Tch. Who were they to glare at him? He made a small show of stepping over the dead bodies, the bodies of the useless people who married into the clan. The ones who didn't hold the treasure of the Scarlet Eyes. Some of the other Spiders had ripped their eyes out as well to test whether they would change, but in vain. There purposefully leaving their faces forever in strips and scars as a warning to the other clansmen.

All those remaining—those with the true genetic mutation they were after—now struggled to even look at Feitan, the sight of the bodies lying marred on the dirt almost too much for them. Some turned as much as they could and vomited, heaving and shaking. Amidst them all was one who stayed clutched to his mother despite not being tied up. Feitan's eyes latched onto him. Idiot.

The mother wiped at her child's face as best she could with Machi's threads tied around her wrists, and Feitan could see the tears welling up. "Please. Run away." Her whispering was soft, harsh, and frantic. "Okay? Can you do that for me sweetie?" the mother pleaded with her child. "Or for Kurapika. Do it for him. Please, just please, make it out alive-"

"Mother," the boy asked, turning his head to look at his clansmen around him. Half lay on the ground, bloody and dead. The others were standing tall despite nen threads threatening to cut into their skin, fighting back quivering lips and shaky limbs. His eyes, still a warm brown as he examined the scene around him, locked with Feitan's. "Who are they?"

Perfect. Feitan grabbed the boy from his mother, ignoring her cries. He held the boy up by the back of his shirt, tip of his sword pointed at his soft throat, more for show than anything else. He knew he could easily kill the boy with his bare hands, but the sword increased the feeling of power he held for those around him. Actually... rethinking, Feitan slashed lightly at the boy's arm, so not to make the boy feel anything (lest he squirm), but so there would be blood. His mother's screams were drawing the attention of the entire clan. Even more perfect.

"No! Please!" Her trembling arms reached towards Feitan, pleading. "Kill me! He hasn't done a-any-anything! Just leave him alone, please, have mercy, and kill me instead, please, kill me, leave him..." She choked on her pathetic sobs, allowing the rest of the clan to shout in her place.

"Drop him!"

"Why are you doing this?"

"You'll all regret-"

"Ex-excuse me."

Feitan's gaze darted to the kid hanging from his fingertips. He pressed the blade closer, the crowd's panicked screams meaning nothing.

He didn't know why Machi had failed to tie him up, or why the child was passing up such a golden opportunity to make his escape. But it all worked out in the Spider's favor. Yet, as he held the edge of his sword to the boy's neck, he didn't seem to be getting a response. The boy's eyes looked around, but they were dimmed, and now that Feitan was observing closer, kind of murky.

Ah, bad eyes. And bad legs too, judging from how he'd hardly moved since the Spider had picked him up. With no attempts made to escape, it was clear he was weak. Heh. No wonder everyone else was so desperate to save him, the cries of even the meek rising against him.

But through it all, the boy's eyes were still a calm, honeyed brown. Feitan frowned. The mother was clearly one who held the Scarlet Eyes, judging from how her irises had flickered. Her son had to be a one with the genetic trait as well. As far as they knew, impaired vision didn't effect the Scarlet eyes in the least. But if all this didn't faze him, those eyes... At this rate, they'd never transform.

The boy scratched at his throat where the neckline of his white shirt was. "Who are you? Are you the people the elders warned us about?" The boy struggled to breathe, and his coloring skin showed it. "A-Are you?" he choked out.

"No! Please, he's only a child...Pai-" The mother's cries came out gargled and cut off suddenly, and she hurriedly wiped at her eyes when Feitan tilted his head in acknowledgement. "He's only a child. Please, if you have any heart, please, just please. Spare him." She was on her knees now. She looked up. "I know you have a heart. Let him live. Please."

Feitan kept his face stony, but one look into her eyes changed something inside him. A vibrant red, glistening from the tears that refused to go away. The mother's eyes, desperate but not lost, with a touch of resolve in them. All for what? To save her child? Why? He took a look at the boy's eyes, still that exact shade of brown despite everything going on around him. Despite knowing his own life was in danger. Feitan scowled.

The kid didn't understand, not yet. He wasn't threatened.

"Mother, no, don't cry." The boy held his hands out in front of him, and smiled. So he wasn't completely blind, but impaired. Fei would take advantage of this. "Don't cry, Mother, it's okay—"

Feitan lifted his sword and sliced.

There was the deep thunk of a body, and the sound of something lighter hitting the ground.

A silence. "Mother?"

Keeping a firm hold on the back of his shirt, Feitan lowered the boy to the ground.

"Mother?" Feitan allowed him to get closer to the body, to be able to see just what he had done. The boy took a step toward her body, but froze, retracing and stepping toward her head, and froze again, as if torn about which he should move toward. He looked to the body then to the head over and over, as if split in half himself. "Mother, M... Mama, no." The boy turned to face Feitan while trying to release himself from the Spider's grasp. His eyes were finally red now, blazing with anger and loss. Once again, tears made them glisten. "Why?"

Feitan felt it again. That little change in him, right as he saw those eyes that had lost so much. It was beautiful. The Scarlet Eyes, considered one of the most beautiful colors on the planet, an he'd just found a way to make them brighter, better. They were clearer and more vibrant with tears. Tears. Danchou was right. Emotion activated the Scarlet Eyes.

"Why?" A flood of tears rolled down the boy's face as he screamed.

Feitan adjusted the grip on his sword, tightening the hold. Now.

* * *

At an anguished cry erupting from the captured people, Chrollo looked up from his book, ever so slightly startled by the sight that greeted him. The air. Red, glistening with tears and fueled by fury and newfound devastation. This color, pure and untouched. Truly the most beautiful color in the world. And that beauty? That exquisite beauty? Chrollo covered his mouth and laughed.

It was all for him.

Chrollo stood up and the rest of the Phantom Troupe looked at him, not moving from their resting spots in the grass. Killing those who struggled took energy, after all. He quickly served his orders. "Shalnark, pick a team and join up with Feitan. Nobunaga, take whoever is left and search the houses and surrounding area for any who may have escaped."

"Got it, Danchou," Shalnark responded, flashing a quick thumbs-up before turning to bicker with Nobunaga about who got to choose who, perfectly calm while Nobunaga was so loud spittle flew from his mouth.

Chrollo leaned against a nearby tree and brought the book in front of his face again in hopes of continuing his read, but was unable to focus. The Scarlet Eyes... The very thought sent a slight curve to his lips. A rare treasure, his to enjoy for as long as he pleased, and the money that they would later rake in from them wouldn't hurt. One of the most beautiful things in the world, all for him. Him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shalnark leaving with Pakunoda, Franklin and Omokage, leaving Nobunaga and Uvogin alone to hunt down stragglers. Shalnark chose well, taking only those with the skill and patience to retrieve the eyes. Uvogin was the most restless of them all. It wasn't hard to imagine the amount of eyes that would be crushed in his large, muscular fists. And Phinks had never been one for delicate work, even more so now. Chrollo took one hand to massage his neck, and continued with his read. Softened leather in hand and the scent of destruction in the air—it was perfect. Pushing any thought of the Scarlet Eyes to the back of his mind, he allowed himself to read, only looking up when Phinks came back.

"Yo, Danchou." The sunlight dappled his tracksuit as he stepped out of the trees.

"What is it?"

"There's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "I couldn't kill one of the stragglers."

Chrollo silently slipped the book into his coat pocket. His gaze upon him was sharp, but Phinks wouldn't look his way. Phinks had an odd habit of trying to hide his expressions, and not doing a very good job at it. He would look someone in the eye and shrink away, then draw up with a forced sneer on his lips, or stay there, lower his brows, and look rather—to put it eloquently—constipated.

"Just come."

With a small frown, he stepped forward and allowed the Spider to lead the way. Chrollo was guided to a spot far from the village, at the edge of the woods, close to the cliff side. His attention was guided to a grand tree, with low-hanging branches, flowers dotting its foliage, and... the white undergarments of the clan crumpled on the ground.

As they drew closer, Chrollo came to see that it was actually a girl, lying on the grass and bleeding from her head. She seemed to have been around the age of five or so. Perhaps six? With a strong gust of wind, her traditional covering came floating to the ground. It must have gotten caught on the branches when she fell. Chrollo plucked it out of the air and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. A fine red and gold pattern, newer and clean with a good wash. It would come for a good price.

"That brat was in that tree," Phinks started. "But it fell and knocked itself unconscious when it saw me."

Chrollo nodded, and opened up her eyes for inspection, to see if any damage had been done to them. He was met with a brown iris, that turned gold when the wind blew again and the light hit her eye.

"I just... I..." Phinks gave up, spat on the ground, and stayed uncharacteristically silent.

Brown irises. So that was why Phinks had been acting so peculiarly. Chrollo's look softened, and her brought his hands back away from the girl's body, clasping them in his lap. Perhaps this mission had been too soon for him. Maybe he should have let him stay behind.

"She's using Ten," he observed, speaking up. "And in her sleep. The clan shouldn't even know about Nen, at least not to this point."

"Kinda looks like number eight, doesn't she." The words had popped out of his mouth before he'd noticed. Phinks turned, knowing he would only hinder Danchou if he stayed there. "You decide what to do with...that."

* * *

Phinks walked off, cursing bitterly under his breath. In the middle of walking, he realized his hands were flipping about, making signs and signals. As he stared, his hands moved by themselves, signing swear words and his rapid thoughts, and a name over and over again.

Clenching his fists together to make it stop, he punched a nearby tree until his knuckles returned bloody and bruised. Finally, his fingers went limp.

It seemed as if his irrationality from just a month before had returned. Shoving his bleeding hands into his pockets, he went in search of the rest of the Troupe. He'd get Fei, Shal, Uvo and the others, and bring them to Danchou. It was the only thing he could do while he was like this.

* * *

What to do.

The clan should have had no means of which to learn about Nen because of their isolation from the outside world. Which meant one of three things had happened. She had learnt Nen by herself without really comprehending what it was, her aura had flown out and was eventually tamed, or she was so dedicated to a certain topic that she had become a special class of nen users known as 'genius'. If she was the last one though, it meant that she still had absolutely no clue what Nen was. And in all of these, the chance she had a Hatsu was low.

Inching closer, Chrollo swept her brown bangs off her head, revealing a large bruise turning all kinds of unsightly shades of purple. Still, she'd done well to survive the fall. If she could maintain a nearly perfect state of Ten while unconscious—

Chrollo glanced once again at the unsightly bruise. She was a child. A malleable child, waiting to be made into the perfect vessel. It would be nice to control growth for once. With some training, he could reshape her mind, heart, and abilities. An experiment of sorts, with the most unpredictable element known to man: children.

It remained a fact that all this child had done was tame her aura to a state of Ten. While it was possible, Chrollo doubted she knew much of the other techniques. She hadn't done anything worthwhile.

But a blank slate, a lump of wet clay. All waiting to be made into a masterpiece by his talented hand. Children were challenging, he knew. But he was Chrollo Lucilfer, one who'd risen above Meteor City to become the head of the Phantom Troupe. A challenge was welcome to him.

And perhaps, perhaps he could prove him wrong. For number eight, and maybe also a bit for Phinks. He couldn't completely ignore the needs of his Troupe.

"Danchou!" Shalnark burst into the scene, the rest of the Troupe following him. He rambled, per usual. "We finished! Feitan wanted to keep some of the elders alive for a bit longer, but Machi used her strings on them, but we put all the eyes in the containers already, so...what is that?"

Chrollo swept the little girl into his arms, displaying the child for the rest to see.

"Oh, shoot, we missed one," Shalnark moaned.

Machi stepped forward, needle at the ready. "I can take care of this one. I can fix whatever damage has been done to her head and eyes as well."

"No," Chrollo said, and got up, the grass padding and silencing his movements. "This girl is more precious than all the Scarlet Eyes we've collected." Perhaps 'precious' was a bit over the top, but he'd always been one to flower in his wording.

A silence. Pakunoda's voice floated softly through the air, voicing everyone's confusion. "What?"

Chrollo motioned for Uvogin, and loaded the girl onto his back. Despite his complaints, Uvogin allowed the girl to get on and locked his arms locked around her knees, securing her in place. His brow furrowed in confusion. What was Danchou thinking?

Chrollo turned to the rest of the Spiders. "We have an interesting opportunity, to reshape a mind and heart. Not only that, but we now hold a treasure that no one else has."

The girl, uneven clumps of brown hair sticking up in spots, continued to drool onto Uvogin's muscular shoulder. Disgusting, but cute, he supposed, in a childish sort of way. Chrollo smiled. He would have to fix that problem.

"The sole survivor of the Kurta Clan."

My first fanfic! Since I always have no idea what to write, a friend suggested that I write a fanfic so that I already have some characters and the evaporated shadow of a plot in mind. So, hope this was okay. I'll try to update regularly.

the concept for this chapter was, I admit, weak, but thanks for reading all the way through

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