*HxH Disclaimer*

Author's Notes: Oh lookie here I go with my "story ADHD" again. O_O Ehehe. I was just done with the fourth chapter of "The Bridge to Being" and all of a sudden my plot bunnies are hopping around the place. And I'm not even midway the fifth chapter of "Bridge." xD Oh well, hopefully this fic series will be short (because that's the plan. Sort of. :P) And yes I'll never run out of Kurapica (I somehow always spell his name that way) stories, so deal, my friends. x3

Living Things
By: DW-chan

One: The Sentiment Experiment

"If he's alive, he'll come to us," Dr. Zan Tournay said matter-of-factly, never taking his eyes off his silver tablet, where his fingers danced upon in quick succession.

"What makes you so sure?" one of the doctor's colleagues, Dr. Francis Barrow, inquired of his companion. "And you seem most certain that it's a male."

"Of course," Dr. Tournay said in his same, casual tone, as though he were proclaiming a timeless truth. "You've seen the list when the eyes were brought here years ago. They've been reported to be all deceased, save one. All female bodies were accounted for. The male bodies were not."

"And you really believe in those lists, don't you?" Dr. Barrow remarked, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"I believe in the system Dr. Henaro left us with when he resigned, Francis. He's organized all the data. He's followed up on the teams that retrieved the bodies. To date we have about forty-two pairs of eyes, no more, no less. It's his five years' worth of undoubtedly hard labor we're dealing with." Dr. Tournay lifted his eyes.

The addressee only lightly shrugged, but remained silent.

"Dr. Barrow, I understand that you've felt strongly about what we've been doing here for quite some time. You can always leave the project any time you wish." There was a hint of a smile on Dr. Tournay's face. "But you haven't. What makes you stay?"

Dr. Tournay received a sigh for an answer. It was then followed by a reluctant, "You'll need damage control if your surmise is indeed true, Zan."

"Ah, and is that all?"

"Stop being an ass, Zan."

"We've been colleagues for nearly ten years now, Francis. You claim to know me. Well, I can make my own claim about my knowledge of you as well." Zan Tourney remained unfazed as he straightened up to walk across the room and lay his tablet carefully on a table, pristinely painted with the customary white of sterilized laboratories. "You're staying because you do want to see him. The last Kurata survivor. And you will see him. I have no doubts."

Francis shook his head in resignation. "Very well. I do recall, however, is that is what you told the team three years ago."

"That hasn't changed."

"Perhaps in another three years?"

"Perhaps sooner than we think."

"You claim to be a seer as you are a scientist?" Francis Barrow said, half-jokingly.

"You'll be surprised." Dr. Tournay smiled, not diabolically, but somehow, like a man who seemed surprised of his own discovery, of his own words. "Five years. I think we've waited long enough." He faced Dr. Barrow once more, who gazed at the panels of information that blinked above them, all around them—lines, lights, and dots that seem meaningless to most people, but too familiar to the two white-coated men in the room, who monitored the lights night and day, day and night.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, Dr. Barrow: if he's alive, he'll come to us."

It had been less than two weeks when Dr. Barrow handed Dr. Tournay a flash drive.

"A messenger came in; said it was urgent," Barrow relayed to Tournay, the latter as composed as ever, sipping his coffee abstemiously as he took the device from his colleague.

"I guess you can be proud of yourself, Zan. Looks like he did find us." Barrow took a seat beside Tournay who promptly scanned what the flash drive contained in a tiny laptop which he kept with him at all times.

"Already?" Barrow lightly cringed at how pleased Tournay sounded. "Well, that's news. I guess you can also say we found what we're looking for. Ah, there we go. You see, Francis? Male, seventeen years of age. A youngster, quite astonishingly. And he has been tracking down the eyes of his fellow Kuratans for the past few months."

"He's a sharp kid to have found us out so easily," Barrow offered, keeping his eyes on the file.

"Well, that was part of the plan, actually. But I have to hand it to the kid; he found us sooner than I expected."

"And how long could we have waited based on your cold calculations, Tournay?" Barrow asked in his joking manner, only with a small hint of bitterness—if Barrow himself would have called it that.

"Another two months, at least. Yes, a smart one, this last Kuratan. The team was right. The Kuratans are no ordinary race. They're more than interesting, more than fascinating than just their eyes. Yet it is their eyes that made everything we did possible. Very extraordinary." Tournay seemed to be conversing with himself, so Barrow had to strain to hear. Finally, the older scientist—past middle age, but with the composure of a man younger than his years seemed to snap out of a reverie. "Well, we won't put up a fight. The Institute was keen enough as well to have spotted the boy as he spotted us. Fair game."

"Just to let you know, Zan, all of a sudden we seem unprepared for this," Barrow remarked. "To tell you the truth, the boy is right at our door."

"A good wait, eh, Francis? Finally you'll get to see him. Perhaps even converse with him."

"I know little of the Kuratan language." But Barrow was smiling in spite of himself. He had long objected to some ways the experiment had been conducted, but now—all his past misgivings seem to melt away.

"If the boy speaks the common language, then we're in luck." Tournay gathered his things and stepped out of the pantry back to the laboratory. Barrow followed suit, unable to contain a dark kind of excitement. None of them has ever encountered a living member of the Kuratan race, and those years of studying their culture and ways, whatever they can make of it, would be nothing compared to actually experiencing it in this boy, an embodiment of a clan thought to be extinct.

As the laboratory's glass door's slid open, the intercom by the side of the doors beeped. Tournay hurried to it. "Dr. Tournay here."

"Doctor," replied a male voice—a voice that tried hard to steady itself; perhaps its owner had been shaken not too long ago? "The visitor; he's here."

"Let him in, Caleb. No need to escort the visitor in droves. We can take it from here."

"Yes, sir."

Tournay could've shook from his own excitement—but he had nerves of steel. The boy will have questions—many questions, dozens of them. Perhaps he may even be hostile. Of course, he'd want the eyes back. This will be an interesting conversation. This will be an interesting encounter.

There was some clanging, some clicking, the sound of footsteps—and then the sound of the laboratory doors sliding open. Tournay looked up serenely, unruffled with what might follow. From the corner of his eye, he saw Barrow lick his lips, an anxious habit of his. The other man seemed to cower at first. It seemed that Barrow, just has he was, did not entirely expect someone in the form of this young man who walked up to them, though they had seen a sole image of him among the files.

He was of medium height and of light build. His eyes were dark, his face seemed carved out of granite, but there was a certain softness to it—it was a young face, perhaps fitting for a boy of fourteen rather than seventeen. He had light blond hair, and he wore what was known to be traditional Kurata garb. He spoke.

"I think you have what rightfully belongs to me."

Perfect; he spoke the common tongue fluently. Dr. Tournay, for all his efforts to keep a frigid façade, was suddenly beaming, almost doting. "Now, no need to be hasty, young man. Why don't we step into my office and discuss things for a bit? What you're here for isn't going anywhere while we talk. I can guarantee that."

The boy flinched a little. "Don't patronize me."

"Please, call me Dr. Tournay. Or Zan, if you wish." Tournay's smile did not fade. "And this is my colleague, Dr. Francis Barrow—"

"I'm not in the mood for formalities, Dr. Zan Tournay," the boy said sharply, yet he kept his distance away from the scientists. They were actually in a basement laboratory, and the way down was a little more than a maze. Should the boy create a ruse, there was no escape. Even then, they could not risk harming the last survivor. The experiment has to go through as planned. Everything has to be contained. They must not incite any aggression from their visitor.

"Manners, young man!" admonished Dr. Tournay, not unkindly, still with a smile. "Now if you'd step into my office. Caleb, Jonas, you may leave him here."

"But sir—" the one named Caleb spoke.

"We'll be fine. If you're still a-flutter, you can stay by the door."

"I, uh—" Barrow was at loss for words. He was rather dazed, now that he had first seen what he remained in the project for. The boy was human, yet he was a precious link to their many long years of study. Many other scientists, sociologists, members of the academe—they would clamor for an opportunity like this. They've encountered so many freaks and wonders of nature but this, this one seemed, as Tournay said, extraordinary. The boy glanced at him for a moment, and Barrow felt like an idiot. The boy must've thought that he, a learned man, was naught but a simpleton in a white coat. Barrow swallowed hard and followed the boy and Tournay into the office—all glass, all white-washed walls, all lights, dots, and lines.

"You'll have to pardon me; I haven't had the chance to ask for your name," Dr. Tournay continued as he took a seat at the head of a small oval table. Barrow surreptitiously took a seat beside Tournay. The boy remained standing.

"Oh, you know my name. But I'm not inclined to repeat it," the boy replied coldly.

Kuratan pride and stubbornness, noted Barrow silently. He felt compelled to confirm every single theory from their studies in every word, every gesture, every expression imparted by the boy. He swallowed hard again, and felt a small fragment of shame creep to him. He was a scientist, but he was not about to see this boy as a subject one could freely place in a test tube or a petri dish as well as what they had done to his deceased comrades.

"Smart boy," Dr. Tourney perceived aloud. His smile faded a bit, but whatever left his lips had danced into his eyes. The doctor was apparently pleased with the encounter so far. "Yes, we have been gathering information about you some time before you decided to show up at our door. In fact, it's something we could have done earlier if not for the many matters we had to attend to—Kurapica."

The boy kept a near-expressionless façade, while his eyes narrowed for a fraction of second.

"What could you possibly say to me now, doctor? I'm here, but I don't have all day. You will return the eyes to me, and I'll be on my way."

Barrow felt like a mere observer thus far. A momentary silence filled the office, and then Tournay finally spoke. "I'm afraid it won't be that easy to return them to you, my boy—"

"Please don't call me that," Kurapica said, perhaps in mock politeness. "And I don't see how difficult it would be for me to take all the eyes and leave."

"Yes, that's something that I would have heard from a living Kuratan," Tournay remarked, a little too delightedly, not in the least daunted by the boy's bold words. Barrow didn't have a doubt that the boy can carry out what he said, Kurata or not. There was an air about Kurapica that was like a wild beast ready to strike. Nen-user, Professional Hunter, the information said, among other facts. What can five short years do to one so young, after he had lost everything and everyone, save his own life? Many things, Barrow heard himself answer.

A ghost of a smile appeared on the young boy's lips, but there was such dissonance between that smile and the hardness in his eyes, which were seemingly inky and depthless. "It must be thrilling for you, doctor, to see the last living Kuratan right before you, is it not?"

Tournay didn't hesitate with his reply. "To be sure, young man. In fact," the smile returned to Tournay's lips. "I'm very pleased that you have paid us a visit. In all honesty, this was more than we expected."

Kurapica did not reply after a while, until finally, a hint of confusion marked his face. "I'm not entirely sure I understand what you're saying. And I'm not entirely sure I like how things are turning out."

"Yes, to be sure with that as well," Tourney answered the boy with his customary composure. "It's understandable. If you do take the eyes, you'll be taking with you forty-two pairs, the most you'll have in one go. Am I right?"

The boy remained silent, grim as ever.

"Ah, no matter; you are quite the reticent type, but no matter." Tournay's smile transformed into a grin. "It's time to stop beating around the bush and get right to the heart of the matter. Dr. Barrow—"

Barrow started at the sound of his name. "Yes?"

"Kindly take Kurapica to the main reservatory."

Barrow was even more startled by that request. "This may be too soon," he retorted; the Kurata youth glanced at him with confusion now all too evident on his features.

"Now is as good as any time," said Tournay. "Go on; I'll be right behind you."

"This better not be a trick," Kurapica muttered, and it took a moment for Barrow to realize that he was the one addressed to.

Barrow collected himself. Would he adopt the same strange friendliness Dr. Tournay kept on the boy? There was no time to decide. "Our work is too precious to be tricks, Kurapica." He was surprised with the gentleness in his voice. It dawned to him that he was bracing the boy for what may be more or less a shock to him. He wagered on the former.

The boy now looked visibly troubled. "And what work is that?"

Barrow felt that he had betrayed his own self. What he was about to show the boy was the portion of the project he had objected to. It drew a fine line, too much of a fine line, but yes, so much hard work, long research, and heavy financial aid had been poured on the project. Everything now would narrow down to how Kurapica would take all this in.

"This is just the viewing room; the reservatory is just right outside these walls. We maintain certain temperatures in the reservatory and it might not be too wise to step into it just yet. A moment—"

Why was he so calm and collected? He was not far from jittery only a few minutes ago, when Kurapica darkly proclaimed his resolve. But this was finally it. He surprisingly acknowledged the fact that he, after all, had faith on the project. He glanced back at the boy, whose troubled gaze looked about the depths of the glass, as though some foul creature would jump out of it.

Barrow's compassionate side asserted itself. "Kurapica, I won't lie. What you will see might overwhelm you."

The boy turned to him. "Enough talk," he said stonily. "Show what you have to show me." A trace of anxiety, somehow, can be detected in the young man's voice.

"Very well."

He walked to the end of the viewing room and flipped a switch.

Almost instantly, lights began to flood the reservatory. The lights had a soft, icy glare, and one by one the vastness of the reservatory was lit. The viewing room was some height above the reservatory, which was the size of a large warehouse; but whatever the reservatory kept could, of course, be well seen from the viewing room.

Barrow resigned himself to the fact that he was still a scientist; he still needed to do his job, so he kept his eyes on the boy and observed every reaction he could grasp. By this time the reservatory was fully and well lit; doubtless, the boy could see it now.

Could see them now.

No words escaped the boy, but there it was—his eyes were wide, and the boy, apparently, had been wearing contacts to conceal his true nature. However, the hue could not be missed. Under the artificial dark irises were an unmistakable reflections of bright red.

"You—what—" the boy began, but he was grappling hard for words.

"This is five years' worth of hard work, Kurapica," came a voice that entered the viewing room; Tournay had caught up with them. "And even more years of research apart from that."

"Science is very useful," Barrow began; he felt like he had memorized a spiel and was now delivering it on autopilot. "But it can be unforgiving, to say the least."

There, on the well-lit reservatory, were forty-two human-sized incubator tanks, and in each one was a motionless human figure, seemingly deep in slumber. They were all garbed in light grey that covered them from neck to shin, so their faces can be seen.

In the tanks were forty-two fully-formed human clones, unquestionably, in another lifetime, once the owners of the forty-two pairs of eyes.

A/N: Now I'm not sure if this plot device has been used in the HxH-verse before, but I'm pretty sure I may not be the first one who thought of it. :P In any case, leave a comment or a review; you know you want to! :P

Cheers!

DW-chan