Itsy Bitsy Spider

41. A New Spider

Shalnark adjusted his binoculars as he attempted to get a closer look at the man he was observing. Their Nen exorcist for Danchou. Machi had been the one to find him, but unfortunately the man had gotten involved in a flimsy alliance, and he was now in no condition to carry out his Hatsu on Chrollo until the Nen went away. The ability was amazing, sure, but to be duped into a scam like that? Shalnark was sure he would be easy to manipulate.

Squinting through the binoculars one last time before putting it down, he sighed. The lenses were chipped, spreading white spiderwebs all across his vision. He couldn't see squat. His cheeks were puffed out in dissatisfaction as he unscrewed the lenses and thrifted around in his bag for a replacement.

"He hasn't done anything much for the past day." The clicks of geta shoes hitting stone stopped as the boy halted, his dark bangs falling neatly as he tilted his head up to the blond.

Shal looked to their newest member and smiled, trying to make his facial features forget there was anything wrong in the world. "Kalluto!" exclaimed Shalnark, patting the branch next to him as an invitation for the Zoldyck to sit.

Kalluto took this as an order and did just so, the perfection in his posture never fading as he settled down in the tree. "Do we need to keep tabs on him? We can easily find him again."

"It's for Danchou. Precautions are necessary." Finding a new lens, Shalnark started to screw it in. "You've never met Chrollo before, right?"

"He..." After a slight pause, he folded his hands in his lap neatly, looking out over the island. "He's my older brother's acquaintance. I've seen him before."

"Really?" He fiddled with adjustments a bit more, absent minded as he responded. "And what did you think of him?"

The pad of Kalluto's thumb ran over the smooth fabric of his kimono. He remembered the day the Phantom Troupe leader had come onto their grounds per Illumi's request. Kalluto had first noticed something was amiss at Mike's howl, the one that was hoarse, gargled, and shot through the mountainside, sending shivers up his spine. Five at the time, Kalluto had hastily left his mother's side to rush to the scene, full of brimming curiosity that demanded to be satisfied.

It took him far longer than it should've to arrive at the site, for his mother had only just started insisting he wear kimonos (they look best on you, dear). It confined the movement of his legs and back then, the long sleeves had gotten frequently snagged on whatever he happened to pass by. As a Zoldyck, he'd been exposed to their entire estate from birth, so he knew the area like he did the back of his hand, but the clothing was difficult to walk in, let alone run in. By the end of it all, his clothes were dirtied, the pattern of the fabric unrecognizable.

As he was looking down at the mud with distaste and cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to invent this sort of restrictive clothing in the first place, his sharp nose caught on a new scent. Not dirt, not pine. Blood.

There was the familiar lingering in the air that Kalluto had grown accustomed to, a smell that he could easily identify anywhere. But there was something else mixed in as well. Something foreign, almost overwhelming and, as he could see, it was dark. Much too dark, nearly black.

It was Mike's blood. Strong, gigantic Mike, who had been around for goodness knows how long, their guard dog that had never even broken a sweat when dealing with outsiders, was bleeding from a deep gash in his leg.