Our Own World
Author/Artist: Yukitsu, partnered with Lynlyn
Characters: Kuroro + Kurapika
Disclaimer: Hunter X Hunter belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi, not to us.

The sight and smell of blood on his tabard sickened the blond. Kurapika shakily pulled his outer garments off, his movements seemingly detached from his body. Red mixed with yellow and orange, or whatever it was that he ate for lunch the day before -- if he had anything more to hurl, he was sure it would have been out of his system by then. As it was, there was nothing but his gut to dry heave.

He wanted to rub his hands on his face, but they were dirty with soil and something more. Comfort came when Kurapika settled himself on the edge of his bed and started praying, speaking with the words he had committed to heart long before he had reached puberty. He stopped taking note of how many times he had repeated the prayer over and over a little after the twelfth time, and contented himself with desperately clinging to the tattered remains of his ancestry.

It was dawn by the time he reached a state of calm enough to stop the shaking and settled on his back where he couldn't see the mess that had been his tribal attire.

Kurapika humorlessly supposed that he would never get killing down pat, would never be able to stomach it, would never forgive himself for murdering another human being in cold blood. It was justice, his mind reasoned, but the fact remained that there was blood on his skin, and that no amount of scrubbing would ever get the scent of it off.

And then he wondered, how the members of the Spiders, or any criminal for the matter, could kill without so much as feeling anything. It was difficult for him to step into their shoes, to analyze their emotions – or lack thereof – when doing what their profession required of them. No amount of training could have prepared him for the heavy feeling just at the bottom of his gut, pulling his heart down and making his vision spin in shades of red he had never thought to see with his Eyes.

Images of Ubogin ruthlessly smashing people left and right ran through his mind. Kurapika had not been like that during their fight, but in the end, it was the same result, wasn't it? It was just death.

It was just death. There was a muffled sound as he buried his face with the pillow he had snatched from the headboard. The giant's scene was replaced with images of long ago, of the senseless slaughter of the Kuruta.

It wasn't just death. There's a difference between murder and justice.

For a moment, Kurapika feared the direction of his thoughts. If he killed enough, would the feeling go away?

He wanted to say that… if that was what it would take to avenge his clan, he would do it. He wanted to tell himself that as long as it was for his murdered kin, it would be justified.

Kurapika had always been bad with lying to himself or to others.

Don't look at me like I'm weak, Kurapika silently steamed as he glared at the dark-haired man seated by his side. Kuroro merely quirked the corner of his lip and returned to looking straight ahead. The chain holding him down tightened a fraction, acting according to his emotions. Kurapika had to exert a lot of effort to rein his fury in.

Tempting as it was to smash his fist against the bruised face, the blond settled for pocketing his mobile phone and checking his two companions from out the corner of his eyes. Leorio and Senritsu seemed all right, so far, and he could only hope his two younger friends were doing just as well.

Kurapika was tired. Tired from continually feeding his chains nen, tired from the tension his body was in a state of, tired of bristling at every other movement the leader of the Spiders made. It would be over soon, but not soon enough.

There was that look again, calculating and confident. Kurapika refrained from meeting the black eyes with his crimson ones, and instead assured himself with the fact that the man was without his nen, was bound by the Chain Jail, was rendered immobile by the strength of his will and anger.

It grated on his nerves, the look he was being given. Despite his best efforts, Kurapika snarled and turned is head to glare fully at the older man. He refused to kill, refused to stoop down to the Spider's level even if he knew, at the back of his mind, that the effort might be too late. He refused not because he lacked the will, but because he didn't want to.

A light breeze had managed to seep in from the window Leorio had opened, lightly touching him like how he remembered his mother's kiss used to. He shivered, and the man had the gall to look amused.

The Kuruta took cold comfort by reasoning with himself that his refusal to take another's life, even if it was of the man who took away his childhood, wasn't a sign of weakness. They had their own, separate worlds; even if this difference was what had brought them together.

Kurapika looked away and didn't look back until it was time for the exchange.

April 13, 2005