If a Kiss

aka

The Ultimate Fluff

a one-shot pure-fluff Hunter X Hunter fanfic by

Ongaku no Usagi

Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter belongs to Togashi Yoshihiro.

How long has it been now? I no longer count years by my age—which, if I am correct, must be around 25...no, 26? Actually, I count years two ways: 1. By the time my village was slaughtered and 2. My final encounter with Kuroro. That simplifies things more, actually. There were 5 years between the massacre of the Kurutas and the initial battle at York Shin, and then 5 years between that and the last battle. Not to get C. S. Lewis or anything. Anyway, count one year with the Spiders as Tenno after that, less, actually, and then a year on Whale Island, and then two years getting my doctorate. There. If I count all that up, that's fourteen years since my tribe was killed, and four since the first time I met Setsuko. Which means she must be almost twenty by now.

It's May, and I'm a little nervous. Hokkaido has sprung out into full bloom everywhere, as it has for thousands of years. A hint of sea zephyrs mix the taste of bitter salt with pollen. My stomach feels as though a few of the jeweled butterflies that are testing out the nearby flowers have gotten inside and are trying to escape.

I pause before that sturdy oak door, raising my hand to knock, and then faltering and letting it fall back. I bite my lip, peering at the windows as if hoping that someone will recognize me in plight and let me in without me having to make that fatal first step.

Losing courage altogether, I back away into the little pine-grove behind the house and attempt to find the same tree I'd leaned against about three years ago.

Not good, must get up strength.

Finally, I pull myself together determinedly and march back up to the door. Before I even allow myself to think, I knock boldly, perhaps too forcefully, my knuckles tell me, and then step back and wait.

The softness of the footsteps tells me that it is Setsuko herself who is coming. I lean up against the wall to steady my shaking knees. It isn't like it's the first time I've seen her these last two years; au contraire. No, I haven't got the excuse of a long-awaited reunion to fall back on.

You see, the reason I'm here now is because I've finally made up my mind.

I'm going to ask Setsuko to be with me forever.

.

It is a perfect evening for two beloved Japanese traditions: cherry blossom viewing, and moon-viewing. The nearly-full moon casts its hard glancing light on the white-and-pink blossoms, stirring a surprising amount of light around us.

She's here; next to me, garbed in a light pink yukata. As we walk under the bridal-veil light of the trees, she lets loose yet another smile. Her teeth are a miraculous sort of straight white; if I had a smile like that, I'd be showing it off all the time, too. Not that her smile comes from anywhere but her heart. That's what makes it truly beautiful. I guess I'm the sort of person who is addicted to people who smile a lot; first Gon, then Senritsu, now her.

Half of my mind, I admit, is on what she is saying. The other half is divided between nervously rehearsing what I'm going to say, and thinking I'm not planning to introduce her to Gon and Killua until after she's safely mine. My next thoughts run somewhere along the lines of, Isn't this cradle robbing?

The touch of her hand brushing against mine not only sets the butterflies dancing again, plus dispelling every and any other thought I've had up to then, it hardens my resolve (and something else).

I pull a couple of steps ahead and turn to face her, so that she halts, a pace away, and looks up at me with wide, surprised eyes. Dark eyes—not hazel like Senritsu's, nor the lighter color of cherry wood, from another memory, but deep and brown-black. But so full of light!

The wind softly blows back her straight, shoulder length hair; as she pushes it behind her ears, she says, "Is there something wrong, Kurapika? You've been pensive all night long, as if there's something you need to ask."

Marveling yet once more at her uncanny ability to read me like a book, I give her a reassuring smile and shake my head. "No...there's nothing wrong, really. It's just..."

All words pop out of my head, like a carefully rehearsed musician who steps out on stage only to find that he doesn't remember a note under the brightness of the lights.

I finger the small box in my jacket pocket and attempt to improvise, after all. "Um..." I clear my throat, "you see, there's something I want to give you, but first I need to ask you something, or maybe it's supposed to be the other way around...?" I trail off, nervously letting my gaze wander towards the low branches around us.

Finding words useless and thoughts increasingly hard to grasp, I stall, reaching out above her head to pluck a cluster of blossoms, and then hold onto them, hesitant, not sure whether I should hand them to her or just tuck them behind her ear, like I want to.

Sensing my indecision, she smiles and pulls them carefully from my hand, putting them behind her ear herself. My fingers instantly regret not having taken initiative. Instead, I drop my hand and put it back into my jacket pocket.

At this point. I can't tell if she's completely clueless, or enjoying my torment. Admittedly, it's hard to connect the thought of her being vindictive in my brain.

"Setsuko, I..." I swallow and try again, drawing the box slowly out as I do so, and stepping a little closer. Her eyes are trained on my face, shifting back and forth between my eyes.

"These...last two years," I begin again, haltingly, "the times in which I've been with you, talking with you, spending time with you...they...they've been like cherry blossoms, I guess," I summarize lamely. "Listen, I live a new life now, thanks to you. Although I'll never really be worthy of you, I hope that...that you can continue to help me change. Day by day, every day. Forever."

She is not smiling now; her face is deadly serious. She dispels my thoughts that she hasn't noticed the box as she gently reaches out and tugs it from my fingers. Without even peeking inside, she whispers, simply, "Yes."

My heartbeat, which was already racing, halts and then speeds up even more, causing my body to shake from the adrenaline. Completely unable to say a word, I close the remaining distance as much as I dare, reaching out a hand, hovering over her face, wanting to touch, hesitating. You'd think I'd never touched a woman before.

Now the smile is so gentle, as she reaches up and presses my hand with hers, inclining her cheek towards it as she does so.

I know it's hard to believe, but this is the first time I've ever touched her like this. I told you I'd take it slow.

Her eyes are expectant now, and not for the first time, I am reminded of a Music Hunter who could tell I wanted to kiss her just by listening to my heartbeat.

But, after all, we're engaged now. Isn't it normal for engaged couples to kiss?

The real problem seems to be...Where to start? Going straight to her lips seems a bit abrupt, seeing as we've hardly even held hands.

Perhaps that's a good place to start, afterall. I grasp her other hand, the one still holding the unopened box, and then let my eyes rove over her face, from her forehead, to her cheeks, to her mouth.

I can feel from our hand-to-hand contact that she is trembling, but I am, too. It is anticipation. I can tell from experience, that makes the moments before the first kiss the most exhilarating and the most agonizing.

I lean forward and place a gentle, almost uncertain, kiss on her forehead. Pulling away ever so slightly, I watch for her shining-eyed expression and then begin to trace kisses from her cheek bones, across the bridge of her nose and soft skin under her eyes, to the other side. From here, I begin to angle down, pausing at the corner of her mouth, and then...

I tilt her head gently with my hand, and graze her lips with mine, at last, letting them linger as they clasp, then pulling away the millimeter or so it takes for the sweet stickiness of the soft insides of our lips to break before connecting again.

I try to keep it as slow as possible, despite the male urge which I have to run my tongue along the crease of her lips; instead, drawing out each time our mouths touch, and relishing every chaste brush of sensitive skin against sensitive skin.

After a couple of minutes of doing this, she moves her hand from where it cups mine to her face, to gently push against my chest. We break apart at last, looking at each other yet again, and then, with a shy smile, she asks, "Can I put it on now?"

I smile and hold up the hand I still hold captive, letting the empty box fall to the ground. She gasps, noticing for the first time that I had slipped the ring on during the kiss.

Author's Note: Huzzah, this is about as nutritious as cotton candy! I guess it was a little fun to write, after all...Oh, and for the record, I will not blame you at ALL if you send me very annoyed reviews. I'm annoyed at myself for writing this thing. So...extraordinarily...fluffy! Not to mention, I can't actually picture Kurapika being this way...but I wanted to end out the extremely dark, make-you-want-to-go-out-and-hang-yourself "Full Moon".