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"Where do babies come from?"
Kalluto's grapefruit eyes blinked innocently up at Phinks, the question hanging awkwardly in the air.
They had just gotten back from a mission, and everyone's exhaustion was clear in the slow pace of their feet. It wasn't as though the raid was difficult, per se- they were the motherfucking Phantom Troupe- however, it had been a long day. As the moon settled over the forest sky, they couldn't wait to get home.
Despite the abruptness of Kalluto's inquiry, it was far from the first time the idea had flashed in his head. Before becoming a Spider, of course he had asked his family. Kikyo, his mother, who had told him babies were born from magic. Silva, who brushed him off. And finally Illumi, who told him such matters were not a concern for the Zoldycks.
None of their answers were satisfactory in the slightest.
So, remembering his frustrating lack of knowledge, Kalluto had been provoked into asking the other members of the Troupe. After their run in with those chimera ants a few months ago, they had grown significantly closer. Kalluto figured they would at least tell him the truth.
But Phinks' mouth was opening and closing like a fish, a confusing mix of both dread and shock widening his eyes. Was it really that bad?
Kalluto felt his stomach drop. The last thing he wanted was for his new affiliation to dislike him.
Fighting for attention, approval, and pride as a Zoldyck child was hell. He knew that hell far too well. A repetition of his previous life was not in his interests.
"Well? Where do they come from?" Phinks seemed to jolt at the young boy's words, his hands coming up at his sides in an obviously nervous gesture. What an imbecile, Kalluto rolled his eyes internally.
Nobunaga, who was standing to their right, raised a curious brow at the interaction. Still staring expectantly, Kalluto shuffled his feet impatiently. Just tell me!
Phinks looked ready to faint. "It's! Uh- um. I mean. It's not that, well. I mean! Um."
The string of stutters was nearly indecipherable. This simply would not do. Kalluto let out a huff, clearly annoyed.
"What the hell, Phinks?" Nobunaga's voice was filled with exasperated disappointment. "What did the kid even ask?"
Crossing his arms delicately, Kalluto turned his gaze to the man with the strange ponytail. "I only asked where babies come from."
Unexpected was the sudden drop of Nobunaga's jaw, brow skyrocketing into his hairline. He stopped walking, instead focusing his gaze on something far in the distance.
Kalluto was severely irritated, even if the emotion wouldn't quite show on his face. Was no one going to give him a straightforward answer?
"What? Is it really that bad?" the youngest demanded, his tone haughty with disbelief.
Nobunaga took several seconds to come back to reality, shaking his head violently. Then, he simply marched on ahead without a glance in the other's direction. Something along the lines of "let the boss handle it…" was muttered under his breath.
Once again, Kalluto was defeated. Did they not think he was old enough? Was that it? Was he really just a child in their eyes? His fists clenched tightly.
I thought I had earned my place here. I thought I had gained their respect, as an equal.
It was so frustrating. What would his mother say?
"Kid," Feitan's scratchy voice spun him from his thoughts. "Keep up."
Two words, simple. Kalluto sped up, falling into step behind the vampiric man who was only a couple inches taller, despite their difference in age.
Feitan was mean, but he was blunt. Honest. Perhaps he would answer Kalluto's burning question?
"Hey, Feitan," Kalluto's approach was tentative. When the man offered nothing more in response but the flick of his stare, it was a sign to continue. "Where do babies come from?"
Luckily, Fetain did not appear phased. Unlike Phinks and Nobunaga, the short man's face barely changed at all. He simply stared ahead, impassive, as though the child had not spoken at all.
"Do not. Ask me," he ground out, finally. "Not my job."
Shoulders dropping, Kalluto nodded. He understood to an extent. Feitan was brisk and business- out of all the members, Kalluto would not want to be in his way.
But a forward glance had Kalluto's spirits suddenly lifting. A shock of pink hair was walking a ways up ahead. Machi!
During his time spent with the Troupe, Machi was certainly the most mothering figure. Although she lacked tenderness- and any traditional displays of affection, really- the way she scolded and scorned was familiar. And anything familiar was welcome. Her rough edges were an indication that perhaps she would be open with him, and provide him with a decent explanation.
Without making much noise at all, Kalluto snuck up to her side. Over her shoulder was an unconscious Shizuku, who had not passed out from fighting, but simply because she had stayed up far too late last night drinking with the others. Machi was holding her steady, likely with minimal effort considering her often underestimated strength.
"What is it, kid?" Machi prodded, making full eye contact unlike Feitan. Her eyes were twin glaciers, reflecting silver moonlight.
Kalluto sucked in a breath. "Where do babies come from? Please tell me."
Even though surprise glimmered across the woman's features, she quickly recovered. "Seriously? You don't know?" It was more genuine than patronizing.
The youngest shook his head.
Letting out a sigh, Machi scratched behind her neck. "Well, honestly I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask. I wouldn't want to, you know, tell you too much for your age… " She trailed off, a pinch in her brow.
"It's okay," Kalluto reasoned, lips thinning in the mock image of a smile. He had never learned how to make the expression properly. "I understand."
"Sorry to disappoint," the older woman sounded sincere. Kalluto appreciated that about her. At least she didn't make a big deal out of things.
Suddenly, Franklin's hulking form appeared beside them. "Is the kid bugging you? What's up, little one?"
Though the man's tone was deep and gravelly, terrifying when combined with his appearance, his visage was open and kind. A large palm nearly engulfed Kalluto's head, giving him a firm pat. It felt more condescending than anything, but the youngest appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
"I have a question," Kalluto explained. This was quickly getting old.
"Shoot," Franklin grinned, his facial scars stretching with the movement.
The young boy shifted on his feet. "Where do babies come from?"
"Oh, that's all?" Franklin chuckled. "This one's easy, Machi!"
The pink haired woman only shrugged, losing interest. Kalluto, however, felt excitement bubble up. Would he finally get an answer? After all this bothersome effort?
"I'll tell ya," the bulky man huffed. "When a couple are ready to raise a child, they ask for one. Then, a stork will come from heaven, with a little baby bundled in cloth, carried by its beak. The babies are dropped off on the happy couples' doorsteps, and they all live happily ever after."
Franklin finished with a gentle smile, seemingly proud of himself for giving the answer. But something was not quite right.
Kalluto's brow furrowed. "But… Why have I never seen a stork deliver a baby before? Wouldn't it happen often enough for them to be flying in the sky all the time?"
Abruptly, Franklin coughed loudly. Machi had an unreadable expression on her face- a cousin of disgust- but she turned away.
"It happens in the middle of the night, while no one is awake," Franklin said quickly, waving his hand in a dismissing movement.
"It's night right now, and I don't see any!" Kalluto exclaimed. Franklin definitely bullshitted him. "How are there babies up in heaven anyway?"
Instead of answering, Franklin quite literally ran away, dropping to the rear of the group. Kalluto watched his broad form leave, disappointment sinking deep into his bones. He had truly thought he would receive an answer this time…
"Don't question it," Shizuku's voice startled Kalluto, her huge brown eyes immediately meeting his over Machi's shoulder. "It's just the way things work. Nice, isn't it?"
"That's a lie," Machi said flatly. "I get where Franklin's coming from, but Kalluto isn't an ordinary child. We can't just… say shit like that to him."
Tilting his head like a bird, Kalluto tried making sense of their words in his mind.
Shizuku cut in again. "Why not?"
"He's a Zoldyck, " Machi sighed, looking uncomfortable.
"Really?" memory as unreliable as always, Shizuku was impressed. "Wow."
Face palming, the pink haired woman went silent. Then, humorless words tumbled quietly from her mouth. "If only Paku were here, she'd know exactly what to say."
Shizuku said nothing, her chocolate irises unreadable behind the lenses of her glasses.
Feeling the upset press of the atmosphere as a disturbing weight, Kalluto decided to let them be. He hadn't known Pakunoda, but her death had clearly shaken the other members, and invading their personal matters would be disrespectful on his part. He was always taught that grief was a sacred thing. Mother wouldn't want me to interrupt them.
Still. Zoldyck this, Zoldyck that. Kalluto was a child in the Troupe's eyes, and his familial status was the only thing keeping them from writing him off entirely. It was infinitely frustrating. How long until he could prove himself, and truly belong?
And no one had answered his goddamn question.
A quick survey of his surroundings revealed Bonolenov and Kortopi nearby. Kalluto could potentially ask them, but frankly, he wasn't as comfortable around them as he'd like to be. They were both downright strange, to be frank, and hardly spoke a word even during Troupe meetings. No, he wouldn't ask them.
That only left…
Shalnark and Chrollo, who were chatting idly beside one another up ahead.
The leader's usual fur coat was not currently being worn, but draped over a forearm instead. A black undershirt covered the man's torso, his horrendous demonias leaving no prints in the sand, strangely enough.
Gesticulating enthusiastically, Shalnark seemed to be eagerly extrapolating something. His trademark wide smile was a slash of white in the night darkness, and Chrollo offered his own small smile here and there.
As Kalluto approached, Shalnark immediately stopped chattering. The youngest was tempted to turn back- sometimes attention was intimidating- but the blond's happy face was an outstretched hand. Kalluto was appreciative.
As always, the leader was impassive. Maybe it was a subtle curiosity, or a placating calm that sat in the divot of his cheek. There was never a way to tell.
"Hey, Kalluto! What's up?" Shalnark bent down to meet his eye level, which was annoying, but whatever. More than anything, Kalluto wanted answers.
"Where do babies come from?" he blurted, fearing yet another useless reply. To his surprise though, the blond only softened his grin, and understanding flashed in his green eyes.
Exchanging a look with Chrollo, Shalnark remained silent. Their silent communication left Kalluto in awe.
The side profile of the leader's face was void of any indication of his opinion on the matter. Chrollo was an enigma, one that impressed Kalluto, held his curiosity in a tight hold. He wanted to know more about this mysterious, strong man who had drawn him in. It was his initial reason for joining the Troupe in the first place. This instinctual, innate desire to know Chrollo, to understand him, and have his approval.
Different from his eagerness to please his parents, this was a separate feeling. He was never trapped. It was more like independence, and reaching out with his very own ten fingers- straining for light .
Kalluto nearly tripped over his own feet when Chrollo belted a hearty laugh, throwing his head back to the purple sky. The sound came from the depths of the man's chest, rich and charming.
Watching him, Kalluto felt his magenta eyes widen.
"Little Kalluto," Chrollo murmured, sounding sweet in a fatherly way Silva never had. "If you truly wish to know, I will gladly tell you. However, know that some of this information will come as a shock. I don't want you to be afraid."
Kalluto's face shone. "I understand," he nodded politely, voice tiny. "I would still like to know, please."
Shalnark's warm hand patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. "Of course! I think you're old enough to know, anyway."
There was something boiling inside Kalluto, rising to his surface. Something bright and pleasant and new all at one. Starting in his toes, it drew up to his heart. In his face, he could feel the sensation pinching at his skin, wanting to draw it tight in places he couldn't understand. What was this feeling?
A smile?
Chrollo was continuing before he could dwell further. "Very well," he paused, thinking for a moment. "I suppose I'll start at the beginning. When two people love each other very much, they decide to…"