Thanks for reading! This fic is technically the third part in an HxH modern AU sequel (after Locked On, which focuses on Illumi, and Circus Act, which focuses on Hisoka), but it can be read as a standalone. Everything should be explained in the first chapter.
He knew it was too good to be true, to believe he had succeeded, to believe he could approach any kind of rest.
Kurapika stared at his friend sitting across from him in the campus cafe. Melody winced, pushing her mug of Earl Grey away from her. Steam from Kurapika's rooibos tea wafted up, scalding his chin and nose. He didn't want to hear these words. His day had been going so well. He'd just gotten an after school job, and aced his history exam, and—now—and now—Kurapika inhaled. Again?
"I knew you'd be upset," said Melody.
They'd gotten off. That shady twisted piece of shit lawyer actually got the three of them off with a plea bargain. Shalnark. Kortopi. Pakunoda. When Kurapika used Hisoka to turn them into the police for robbing his family of their rubies years ago, he thought he could focus on tracking down the heirlooms, getting them back. He couldn't get proof anyone else was involved, though he was certain that bastard reporter, Chrollo Lucilfer, was in charge of it.
Why is there no justice in this world? Kurapika clutched his mug so tightly he thought the porcelain might break. Mom—Dad—Pairo—
He'd failed them. Again. How shocking; it was what he always did. Kurapika chugged the tea. It was too hot, and it burned, and he was glad.
"Uvogin didn't get off," Melody reminded him gently. "You should use milk, Kurapika, it's not cool enough to drink yet." She pulled the top off a creamer and dumped some into his tea for him.
"He didn't get found guilty, either!" Because he was dead. Killed in a prison riot. Reminding him of that was hardly going to make him feel better. He hadn't wanted him dead. Not really. Kurapika's hands shook. Other students milling about, textbooks in their arms because of course calculus was the biggest burden they had to carry, turned to stare. Kurapika ignored them. His face flushed.
"It was always going to be difficult," Melody said, pushing his tea back towards him.
"But I thought—I thought—" He couldn't finish.
"Kurapika," Melody said. "It's okay. At least your family was exonerated—the city knows the Kurtas weren't running an insurance scam now—"
"They don't know," Kurapika managed. He'd still have to deal with whispers. Those thieves, once students at a far more prestigious college in Yorknew, had ruined his family's reputation forever. His father never would have gotten in the car that night if it weren't for everything they had crumbling.
And they were dead. His parents would never see justice—he was supposed to clear their name for them, he had to, he had to, he had to ensure that they could rest easy, that they could be proud of him in death if not in life.
Kurapika bowed his head. I'm sorry. His chest squeezed. He couldn't even address the dead. He was too useless. Too spineless.
"Kurapika, I'm so sorry," Melody said.
"It's not your fault," he muttered. It was no one's fault. No one's except those four and Chrollo's and however many of his other reporters decided to rob from the Kurtas for—for what, exactly?
I hate them. He squeezed the mug again. I hate them so much. It was a fire, sharp and dark, burning away at his ribcage.
"What was your news?" Melody ventured.
Kurapika let out his breath. It came out a harsh laugh. Melody flinched. "I got the job."
Melody's eyes lit up. "Congratulations!"
He shrugged. "Thanks." Not that it really mattered right now. But it would give him the money to help Leorio out with rent more, so that they could stop taking charity from Killua's grouchy older brother.
And it got him closer to his goal.
"Was the woman nice?" Melody tried.
Oh, Melody. She was too sweet. She wouldn't stop trying to console him, even if by distraction. Her voice lulled Kurapika into a calmer state, heartbeat quieting and breaths slowing. Which was why she was dangerous. "Mm."
Melody had helped him comb through postings online the past few weeks, seeking a position with flexible hours and good pay, and that he didn't need a car to get to. The only position that seemed reasonable was as a babysitter, or so he'd said to her, and Melody gave him a look because she knew exactly what his plan was. And yet, she still helped him.
Oito Hui Guo Rou was a sweet woman about a decade older than him, the eighth wife of one of the prominent hotel owners in the city. Eighth meaning he'd divorced like seven before her, but Kurapika didn't particularly concern himself with that. Their daughter Woble was a chubby baby who'd smiled and reached for Kurapika at the end of the interview.
"That's amazing," Oito said, shock on her features. "She doesn't like strangers—I thought—I thought she would create a fuss, but—"
Kurapika reached out for the baby, who settled happily in his arms. It felt good, to hold another human being, warm, to protect them, to know that they deserved to be cherished. Kurapika couldn't recall that feeling in years.
"Why does she want a nanny?" asked Melody, stirring her tea. The spoon clinked in a rhythm.
"She said she wants to take a class," said Kurapika with a shrug. "Try her hand at something new, I suppose."
"Hm." Melody settled back, a frown on her face.
"What?" Kurapika asked.
She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm happy for you. It'll be good, I feel."
If only. But now that relief he thought he had—the justice he'd gone to such lengths to procure—it had caved beneath the expertise of a lawyer that enough money bought.
That was how the world was.
Well, I can't stand it.
"Kurapika," Melody said. "Are you going to let them go and focus on getting the rubies back?"
Kurapika swallowed. "I promised that's what I'd do."
Melody sighed. "Please tell me you don't plan on stealing them back."
"I doubt very much Oito's husband will just hand them over if I ask nicely," Kurapika pointed out. "Although, can you steal something that belongs to you by right?"
Melody's eyes bore into him.
"No," said Kurapika. "I don't plan to steal them." He planned to expose the stupid rude man to the police, expose his underworld dealings because there was no way he would have been able to get those Kurta rubies legally. They were stolen property. And he didn't want to discuss the lengths he had gone to to get that information, not with Melody, not with anyone, not even with himself. It was best forgotten.
Melody exhaled. "When do you start?"
Kurapika finished his tea. The burn from earlier stung. "Tonight."
They're free. They're all free. They're probably going to get beer and celebrate and I have work out a plan to find information on Oito's husband. Because they might be the ones leaving a physical prison, but Kurapika knew he was in for a life sentence. His parents would not have died if it were not for Chrollo Lucilfer.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Melody asked.
Kurapika shook his head. "I'm not going to do anything rash, okay?" He grabbed his bookbag, devoid of books. "See you later."
"Has there ever been a time you haven't acted rashly?"
He didn't want to answer her.
"Ah, you're here early!" Oito rushed towards him, Woble on her hip.
"Is that all right?" Kurapika asked, taking note of the house's opulence. A golden chandelier glittered above an oriental carpet and leather couches.
"Of course, of course," said Oito. She glanced nervously up towards the staircase. Kurapika spotted a corpulent man standing there, looking down. Nasubi. Head of Kakin Hotels, a luxury chain and according to his information, someone from that chain procured Kurapika's family heirlooms last year.
"Where are you going?" Nasubi demanded.
"I have class tonight," Oito said. Woble whimpered. "You said you didn't mind if I spent my allowance on that instead of on clothes, dear."
"Oh. Right." Nasubi shrugged."Well, it's your allowance. You'll fail the class and I won't give you more money until next month no matter how much you want a new pair of shoes."
Oito lowered her face. She swallowed.
Excuse me? Kurapika's eyes bulged.
"This is Kurapika," said Oito, straightening. "I checked his references—he'll be watching Woble tonight, so you won't have to."
Nasubi nodded, turning and heading back into a sitting room upstairs.
Isn't Woble your daughter? Kurapika wondered. But you don't care to spend time with her? He thought of Gon, and his father. His stomach pinched. Bastard. "Are you okay?"
Oito gave him a sad smile. "Of course. He just—he's not wrong," she managed. A crease formed in her forehead. "I was rather a shallow woman, until I had Woble. She makes me want to be better. That's why I'm going to this class."
The pieces started to appear in Kurapika's mind. He nodded.
Woble reached out for Kurapika again, chubby fingers splayed. A smile broke through the cloud pressing down on Kurapika. He took her and she cooed, grabbing a fistful of his hair.
Oito laughed. "She likes you."
Kurapika hummed a lullaby. One his parents used to sing to him, and Pairo. The song sounded less haunting when he wasn't alone, when he was humming it to a baby. Oito dashed out the door, and Kurapika spent the next few hours crouching on the floor of the playroom, helping Woble play with blocks. She threw one off his head at one point and Kurapika could only laugh.
Following Oito's instructions, he went to get food for the baby after two hours. Mashed apples. Woble gurgled. He wiped her chin, using the spoon as an airplane. She giggled as if it was the funniest thing ever. He poked her nose.
"Who is this?" The voice rippled through the kitchen like ink spilling through clear water. Kurapika's stomach clenched. He rose. A young man with stringy light hair crossed his arms, peering at him. Woble burst into tears.
"Oh, no," Kurapika said, reaching down to unbuckle Woble from her high chair. He bounced her in his arms. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Woble."
"I said, who are you, and why are you holding my sister?"
Sister? This man looked like he was around Oito's age. Oh, right. Eight wives. "I'm—Kurapika. I'm babysitting for Oito."
Woble scrunched up her face, wailing. Kurapika rubbed her back.
"Oito didn't mention that to me." The man took a step closer.
Woble was now screaming, and Kurapika found himself taking a step back. "She mentioned it to your father. He's upstairs."
"Hm." The man regarded him. "I'm Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou."
"Nice to meet you." Kurapika tried to keep his tone light for Woble's sake. The sliding doors in the back of the kitchen opened up into an expansive, empty, dark lawn. Kurapika almost felt the urge to run.
"And why would she need to take a class?" asked Tserriednich. "You're not her lover, are you?"
"What?" Kurapika's jaw dropped. "I just met her today! No!"
"You can tell me, Kurapika," crooned the man, coming closer. Kurapika tightened his grip on Woble. "Is she planning on leaving my father? That harlot was always—"
Seriously? Harlot? Is this the 1800s?
"Give her to me," Tserriednich offered, reaching for Woble. "I can calm that brat down."
Woble buried her face into Kurapika's shoulder. Her tears felt hot against his shirt. "I can handle it."
"G—"
"No," Kurapika snapped.
"You're awfully insolent for someone who just—"
The front door slammed open, and a group of other adults and teenagers poured in. More stepkids of Oito's?
Tserriednich turned and followed them. Kurapika soothed Woble, rocking her in his arms. She fell asleep against him, exhausted. Poor baby. His pulse stayed rapid.
When Oito arrived home, she reached for her baby. "Ah! So you got her to sleep?"
Kurapika nodded, handing her over. Woble didn't even stir.
"Did she behave?"
"Of course." Kurapika smiled at the baby. "She was upset when your stepson came, though."
Otio's face paled. "Tserriednich? He's visiting tonight?"
Kurapika nodded. "A bunch of people are. Kids."
Oito glanced around them. Footsteps creaked above them, but no other sounds echoed. "Never let him touch her, Kurapika. I don't trust my stepson." She narrowed her eyes. "And please, don't repeat this."
"I won't," Kurapika promised. He bit his lip. You are trying to leave him, aren't you? You just want to make sure you can support your daughter first.
Which meant he had less time to figure out a plan to take down Nasubi and get those rubies back. He didn't even know where they were, just that all the paper trails he had been following led to Kakin Hotels. He had to focus on that. Not on...
Woble mewed as she woke up, reaching up to pat her mother's face, and Kurapika's heart melted. He closed his eyes.
I'll help you, too. Somehow.
"How do you always attract so much drama?" Leorio asked, rubbing his temples as he sat on their threadbare couch, the one Kurapika slept on every night.
I shouldn't have said anything. Kurapika clamped his mouth shut, shame settling inside him. He hadn't intended to open his mouth, but when Leorio asked him about his job—clearly wanting to distract him from the court case—he couldn't keep it inside.
"I didn't mean it like that," Leorio interjected.
Kurapika shrugged. "It's fine, honestly. I'm just babysitting. I don't plan on getting involved beyond helping her do that." A clunk echoed outside.
"Is she being abused?"
"How would I know?" Kurapika just wanted Leorio to go to bed so he could sleep. A couch was still more comfortable than the streets.
"Finding dirt on Tserriednich or on Nasubi would help her," Leorio mused.
"That's my plan," Kurapika said. Woble would just need to nap at some point when he was babysitting and he could snoop around. But Woble came first. Because he always put other people and their well being first. Always. He wouldn't be so careless.
"Are you going to bed already?" Leorio asked. "It's not even nine yet."
"I'm tired."
Leorio moved into his room to study, and Kurapika curled up on the couch, tugging the musty blanket over his face. He used to do that when he first moved in here, so Leorio wouldn't see or hear him crying.
But now, though his eyes ached, he couldn't remember the last time he was able to cry.
I'm a dead man walking. But he couldn't die until he'd found the rubies. He needed to, for his parents' sake.
He remembered that the three thieves had gotten off. Not enough evidence. Or whatever. His stomach clamped and he curled up tighter.
Tonight, he wished he wouldn't wake up. But he had a job to do before he could rest for good.
Everyone around him laughed, and so the sound bubbled up inside him too, even if he couldn't open his mouth and let it out. Chrollo smiled, watching as Phinks challenged Machi to a drinking contest and Feitan rolled his eyes. Franklin and Bolonenov worked on a story in the background despite the din. Shizuku laughed with Shalnark.
Shalnark, Pakunoda, and Kortopi were back. Free. Finally. That lawyer came through in the end, and Chrollo hadn't let them down.
Uvogin, though...
He sipped the beer he held, the glass cold and wet against his palm. He rested the bottle on his knee. Those Kurta rubies were way more trouble than they were worth, but he didn't feel like thinking about that. It had all worked out in the end. Except for Uvo.
Chrollo's phone buzzed. He frowned, reaching for it.
Three missed calls, all from the same number. Chrollo sighed as his phone refused to work and let the call go to voicemail again. He rose and headed outside Machi's. The air felt warm, like spring's first blush. Buds formed on the cherry blossom tree in Machi's front yard, though they hadn't yet bloomed.
Chrollo stopped. A figure sat by the door, smoking. "Nobunaga."
The older man turned to him. "Danchou."
Chrollo said nothing. He leaned against the railing. The breeze ruffled his hair.
"I wish he was here," said Nobunaga. "He would've been drunker than a skunk by now."
A smile curled Chrollo's lips. "Probably ranting about the food in prison."
"Bet it sucks," said Nobunaga.
"Still better than Franklin's."
Nobunaga let out a barking laugh. "I guess I'll go back in. Got a phone call to make?"
Chrollo held up his phone. "Yeah."
The door closed behind his friend, and Nobunaga's words echoed inside of him like a scream in a cave. I wish you weren't dead, Uvogin.
But he was going to honor Uvogin. He would. Uvogin was one of his best reporters. He helped Chrollo expose those thugs in Meteor City, rob enough people in town to get the money to move to Yorkshin.
Chrollo called the number back. "Isn't it a school night? Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Shut up; it's early yet," snapped the voice of Kalluto Zoldyck, the younger brother of his ex-friend Illumi Zoldyck. Ex because while Chrollo had no problem with Illumi personally, Illumi was marrying Hisoka Morow, who even more so than Kurapika Kurta was responsible for putting Shalnark, Kortopi, and Paku in prison just because he couldn't get over the fact that Chrollo beat him in a wrestling match. Okay, so Chrollo had cheated by drugging him beforehand.
But Illumi still let Kalluto run errands for Chrollo, on the condition that Kalluto would do nothing dangerous. Mostly Chrollo had the kid deciphering Bolonenov's chicken scratch handwriting and typing it up, formatting photographs for their website, etc. And of course, reporting on the principal of his middle school, Pariston Hill. It wouldn't be long now until Chrollo saw that particular scumbag suffer.
"I went to deliver the invitations tonight," Kalluto said.
"Invitations?" Chrollo stared up at the sky. Not a star in sight. When he was younger, he used to imagine it was because the stars were all sleeping. He had names for them, back then.
"For Hisoka and Illumi's wedding."
"Oh. That."
"Yeah," said Kalluto. "And Alluka and I were going to drop them off at the post office, but I went in person to drop it off at Leorio and Kurapika's because Kurapika hasn't seen Killua in months and I wanted to yell at him for it—"
"Oh, did you?" Chrollo had a few suggestions for things Kalluto could say to Kurapika Kurta.
"No, because when I got there, I heard them talking about Nasubi Hui Guo Rou. His wife's leaving him."
"Does that make number eight?" Chrollo asked. He knew the rumors about the hotel millionaire and his inability to hold down a marriage for longer than a few years and one or at the most two kids.
"Yeah, but she hasn't done it yet, and Kurapika's working for her babysitting so she can take the class, and one of the stepsons—T-something—accused Kurapika of having an affair with her. Didn't sound like he was though, from what Kurapika told Leorio." Kalluto drew in his breath. "I just thought it would be a good opportunity to—"
"It is interesting," Chrollo confirmed. He wasn't much a fan of people in power, tycoons who thought themselves gods, untouchable. "Thank you, Kalluto." If Kurapika Kurta had been having an affair Chrollo would jump to publish that article as soon as he fucking could. Kalluto clearly was getting fed up with Kurapika being a shitty friend to Killua. But it would be massively out of character for Kurta, and Kalluto was probably right.
That didn't mean there was nothing worth checking into, though, on the Hui Guo Rou side of things. That conversation sounded rife with family secrets, and as the Zoldyck disaster had shown Chrollo over the past year, and as he knew from all his years reporting, what held an institute or a family together was not love or blood, but secrets.