Chapter 118: Active Contact
Sheila didn't try to talk Kurapika out of his revenge. Instead, she spoke at length about the other side of the Phantom Troupe—the side the world never saw.
She told him how Machi had studied funeral cosmetology specifically so she could ensure her fallen comrades, like Sarasa, left the world with dignity.
She spoke of how Uvogin and Nobunaga often visited this very church to teach the street urchins basic combat skills for self-defense.
And how Pakunoda, Shalnark, Feitan, and Phinks would frequently bring back strange, wondrous trinkets from the outside world to gift to the orphans.
This was why the homeless children huddling in the courtyard glared at Ronin's group with such undisguised hostility. To them, the intruders were threatening their providers, their heroes.
Sheila's presence was the only thing keeping the children from lashing out.
Ronin listened in silence. He didn't care how "kind" the Spiders were to their own kind. A murderer who feeds an orphan is still a murderer.
Kurapika shared his sentiment. If anything, Sheila's stories only intensified his hatred.
They know the agony of loss, Kurapika thought, his jaw tightening. They know the pain of seeing a loved one taken. And yet they still choose to inflict that exact same despair on others? That makes them even more unforgivable!
His eyes burned a terrifying shade of scarlet. The killing intent radiating from him was so thick that Sheila's voice trailed off into a whisper.
They didn't stay long. As they prepared to leave, Ronin turned to Sheila with a cryptic, heavy look.
"If the children here want a future," Ronin said, his voice carrying a hidden edge, "send them to Elder Ryan. He can provide them with steady work, hot meals, and a paycheck."
Ronin didn't know if Sheila understood the implications, but he saw the older, more street-smart children perk up.
"You're colder than I am," Kurapika remarked once they were a safe distance from the church.
"Who knows?" Ronin shrugged.
Ambitious kids would flock to "Ryan," and when they did, they would become the first line of defense—or the first targets—when the Phantom Troupe eventually came to reclaim the district. Ronin was essentially offering them up as pawns in a game of global chess.
"I've never claimed to be a saint," Ronin said, assessing his own nature. "With this kind of power, I think I'm leaning more toward being a 'villain' anyway."
He had seen the predatory hunger in the eyes of those children. If he didn't give them a direction, they would eventually become the very monsters Sheila was trying to humanize.
Kurapika fell into a long silence. "I... I don't want your hands to be too stained with blood, Brother Ronin."
"Don't be stupid," Ronin smiled, patting the boy's head. "You're the one who's supposed to stay in the light. My moral compass was broken a long time ago. If I wasn't so mediocre at strategy, I'd want you to live a normal, happy life instead of being buried in this underworld scheming."
Kurapika managed a small, sad smile. "That dream was never an option for me. And honestly? I'm starting to enjoy this life."
Ronin looked at him for a long moment, then changed the subject. "How much do you actually trust Sheila's story?"
The Dowsing Chain hadn't twitched, indicating she wasn't technically lying. but that didn't mean she was telling the whole truth. There were many ways to bypass a simple lie detector if you believed your own delusions.
"I don't know," Kurapika shook his head. "I hope she's as ignorant as she claims."
A 'Saint' growing up in the heart of the Junkyard? Ronin felt the whole persona was "too perfect." Every word she said, every "clumsy" move she made... it felt manufactured. She was like a character in a play that never ended.
He couldn't see through her yet, but he didn't trust her.
Time slipped away. By September 27th, Ronin still hadn't received a follow-up call from Hisoka.
However, when Ronin decided to dial the Magician's number himself, the background noise on the other end was a deafening roar of a stadium crowd.
Hisoka was at Heavens Arena, likely preparing for their scheduled October 1st duel.
"If you're already there, you'll probably run into Chrollo soon," Ronin told him.
"No rush," Hisoka's voice came through, sounding disturbingly aroused. "Compared to Chrollo, I'm much more interested in you right now."
"That's a pity for you," Ronin replied flatly.
"Oh? Are you planning to stand me up?" Hisoka's tone shifted, the playfulness replaced by a sharp, jagged edge of killing intent.
"Of course not. I'm looking forward to it as much as you are," Ronin said.
"Perfect. See you in the ring on the 1st," Hisoka purred.
Just then, the voice of a stadium announcer leaked through the phone: "Contestant Hisoka is actually answering his phone in the middle of this high-stakes match! Contestant Kastro clearly takes this as the ultimate insult! His attacks are becoming increasingly ferocious, yet he cannot even graze the Magician's cape! Hisoka is performing a waltz on the edge of a blade! This is madness!—"
Kastro? He's appearing now?
Ronin remembered Kastro from the manga. A true genius who had been misled. As an Enhancer, he had wasted his immense talent developing a complex Conjuration/Manipulation ability (his Doppelganger), which left his core skills unrefined.
If Kastro had followed a proper training path, he might have been a formidable opponent for Hisoka in a few years.
Ronin watched the call end, then immediately scrolled to Miria's number.
If Kastro survived this encounter with Hisoka, he wanted Miria to sign him.
When Ronin eventually returned to the Arena, he wanted to meet Kastro personally and correct his training. It would be a waste to see that much potential go to the grave over a bad Hatsu choice.
Building a bridge for a future ally, Ronin thought.
Miria picked up. "What now? Another rookie recommendation?"
She was currently managing Hisoka's brand, which was exploding in popularity even though he hadn't reached the 200th floor yet. The hype for the Ronin vs. Hisoka match was already reaching fever pitch.
"Yes. The guy Hisoka is fighting right now—Kastro. He has incredible talent," Ronin said.
"I can see that. But he seems to belong to a specific dojo. He won't be easy to recruit," Miria said. She was sitting in the front row, watching the match with a professional's eye.
On the stage, Hisoka was toy-fighting with Kastro, clearly enjoying the "hunt." Kastro's moves were powerful and full of spirit, but to someone like Hisoka, they were transparent and unrefined.
"Just try to set up a meeting or get his contact info," Ronin said. "If it doesn't work out, let it go."
"You want to teach him?" Miria caught his intent instantly.
"Maybe. I just don't want to see a 'ripe fruit' rot because he picked the wrong tree," Ronin said honestly.
"Fine. I'll see what I can do," Miria agreed.
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