Waning Moon, Waxing Moon
By Ongaku no Usagi
Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro. This applies to all subsequent chapters of "Waning Moon, Waxing Moon".
"Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."
Kurapika had seen more than his fair share of pain. The loss of his tribe...the agony of killing another person...besides various sundry physical pains. Yet...now...he would repay the ones responsible for his pain, and the mortification of his tribe. It would not be like the last time. His strategy was perfect; he was relying on no one else but himself and his own strength.
Two hours left until he put his plan into action. Sitting on the low bed in the hotel room he had rented, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, acquiring and storing Nen, meditating on his task ahead. Concentration filled all his body and mind. He was a being bent on one goal, flooded with his desire.
Images flitted through his memory; he brought them out, one by one, thought about them each carefully, and then put them from his mind. The first: red on black, silver chain tangled around the blade of a katana. The second: the monster with the bullets of Nen that yet were conquered by a stronger defense. The third and fourth: the Chinese fire defeated, he himself could not fathom how, along with the sheer physical martial force. And the fifth...he had almost died of silver thread, so fast! So sudden! It had snaked around him, til he could not breathe. Yet...that, too...
He closed his eyes as he remembered her scream of pain as he mercilessly thrust the Judgement Chain through her heart.
Those were the five left who had been responsible in the massacre. He had little grudge against those who had joined afterwards; he did not desire to kill more.
Yet...there was one more. Him. The Head.
Kurapika stood up, the springs of the bed yawning as he did so.
He was fully confident. He had devoted the last five years since the Hunter's Exam to this very purpose. After all, his Nen had increased after each success, whether it be collecting the eyes or purging the legs.
He strode toward the door.
Kuroro sensed the Chain User's presence while he was yet closing and locking his hotel room door.
He closed his eyes again, concentrating.
This battle...might be tough. Even though he was sure his skills surpassed that of the Chain User's, he knew his determination did not. There were times when not being effected by death were troublesome.
There was also...he had heard of the deaths of Nobunaga, Franklin, Feitan, Phinks and Machi. The last he felt most keenly. Though he had been closer to Pakunoda while she was alive, of late Machi and he had bonded, more mentally than physically, although of course he had always known the ladies of his group quite well. That sort of thing was not governed by feelings, especially not among the Spiders. It was need-based, though there was always payment for services in one form or another. But he had actually felt something more than fellowship with Machi, and now he was...almost sad.
In a way, it wasn't worth it to go on. But because it would be disgraceful to the memories of his band, he was going to fight. If he succeeded, he would carry on. If not...he wouldn't feel any regret. That would be his last victory over the Chain User.
He lifted his head as he heard footsteps, coming closer. He was in the original building the Spiders had used for the Yorkshin incident. He thought it was a little poetic.
The irony was not lost on Kurapika, either. Wet, dark halls, and broken walls; ploosh, ploosh, moisture dampening his tribal shoes as he trod in the foul puddles. The sensation of year-old mold stuck in his nostrils like thistles into fingertips. He grimaced, but steadied his nerves, controlling himself until he no longer was affected by it.
He gritted his teeth and clenched a fist until it shook. This...this was it. The final faceoff. He licked his lips in anticipation, more than anxiety.
"You came at last, Chain User."
He halted, the soggy sounds of his footsteps shifting to a stop as he assumed a fighting stance and looked around warily. The voice, mocking, musing, echoed from all corners of the room. Kuroro had chosen his place well. Kurapika immediately let out his Dowsing Chain, watching it from his perephrial vision as he continued to look for the source of that calm, cold voice.
"Did you doubt it?" he asked steadily, noticing the sway of the chain to his back and right. "Did you doubt that I would find you, murderer, and bring about just due?"
Pale laughter, sticky laughter, like that of a black widow with its prey twitching in its web. "Murderer? I'm not the only one in this room, you know."
Kurapika has mentally prepared himself for such comments. "A life for a life, Kuroro. And you have taken many more lives than you can repay."
The boy has grown up, Kuroro realized. He has come to terms with 'the end justifies the means' logic. He frowned. This might be even harder than I anticipated.
He left no trace of uneasiness in his voice as he replied. "I never thought you would come down to killer's thought processes, Chain User," he said.
Kurapika smiled wryly. "There is no point to looking back over done misdeeds," he says. "One can only move forward. Therefore," he took a deep breath and turned around, not leaving any opening in his stance as he faced the Head of the Spiders, crouching in the dark, "prepare yourself, Kuroro. I have not looked back."
Kuroro sighed wearily as he stood up. A gossamer strand of moonlight highlighted his hair as it caught glint through the window. "Very well then. Prepare yourself, too. There will be no second chances."
With that, the two lunged at each other