A/N:I started to think of rewriting previous chapters, since there is not enough action, in my opinion.. All previous issues about this story are settled down, so the only question about it is if I need to improve previous two chapters. This one also will be updated soon. Please, if you are interested in this story, go to my profile page and fill a poll about the rewriting of it.

Disclamer: I don't own any of the characters.

Chapter three.

Meeting.

Days were passing by as fast as leaves are falling from trees in autumn. Kurapika still was in that old room where he came back to his senses two days ago. As he remembered from the short examination at the beginning, the ceiling was dusty-gray with blurry stains from the rain. Having a great interest in saving his current eyesight, he tried not to open his eyes much until the help arrives, so everything he could know now came from his memory, not by the way of the careful observing. For a strange reason his eyes automatically got their red hue no matter when he opened them, it was an uncontrollable process. But it was bad, because eyes glowing in their brightest scarlet lost their sharpness much quicker than in a natural color. At least, that's what Kurapika was told in a village and he got no willing to check it up. This Curse was not an often, but regular thing, so symptoms must've been known precisely after many generations of observing the disease. Life is full of unexpected and somehow funny turn-outs – year ago he trained hardly to get his eyes red anytime needed, but now he must train to get them back to the normal brown. Perhaps, it was some kind of reflex – sharing the same roof with members of Phantom Troupe all the time wasn't the most pleasant thing – and it wasn't controlled so easily.

Today Kurapika awoke mumbling silent curses because of cold water drops falling on his face. Spiders didn't care much about the condition of the building they've taken up. And what had he expected? That this gang will think about this place or about him? Ironically, there was a person, who really cared for his condition – and others obeyed that person. Would they be in the same situation only with roles being switched, Kurapika would never do anything from all those things the Phantom Troupe had done to him by these days. Speaking of the devil…

An old wooden door creaked silently as it opened, allowing the visitor to come in. Quite, almost inaudible steps slowly approached Kurapika's bed and stopped there. Understandable silence filled the whole space in the room – enemies do not have enough reasons to talk about. Speaking is like an act of trust, in some way, because the grain of truth can be extracted even from the ocean of lies. Kurapika didn't trust Kuroro enough even to ask what he wanted. He felt like starting the conversation would decrease the strength of his hate; that it would mean he could forget and forgive someday the crime that was done. And there was no way he will ever do something like this, so he waited for the other to start.

"It's a dinner time, Kuruta." A man finally broke the prolonged silence, understanding that it won't lead them anywhere. Kurapika couldn't see that, but there really was a plate filled with food in Kuroro's hands. "And don't even try to refuse to eat, there is nothing added to the food. We don't need you to be dead when your friend arrives."

Man spoke the truth. Kurapika didn't want to, but he was forced to admit that actually none of their actions were harmful for him. It sure sounded unbelievably, but the things were going completely otherwise. The situation made him not only angry because of his own shiftlessness and old hatred, but also quite amazed because of the unexpected care. Kuroro regularly brought him some food, like now, and even was generous enough to give some information about their whereabouts, so a boy got a couple of things to think about.

"Just put it on my knees." Kurapika replied sharply, trying to stay calm. It was hard not to materialize his nen chain, which would automatically bring a great pain after a couple of moments; he already checked it out. Feeling the weight put down on his legs, he nodded a little, showing by it that Kuroro should go out and not bother him anymore. Man perfectly understood Kurapika's thought and left the room, deeply inside satisfied that his best enemy has got some nerves to act with such self-confidence in this kind of situation. People with such nature rarely gave up their goals, and that meant that there were many thrilling encounters awaiting him in the future. It was really good, because truly awesome enemies were too hard to find for him, almost all nen users were just no match for somebody from his league.

Confirming that Kuroro went out, Kurapika slowly opened eyes, desperately trying to prevent them from becoming red. When the fragile balance has established, he started to eat, though without any enthusiasm. Food was cold; some fried potatoes and tough meat. He just needed to get some strength. It was good he didn't need to worry about starving, but it wasn't true by any meanings. He was forced to accept each act of generosity coming from his blood-sworn enemy and it added a peace of great disgust into his feelings. Even in his worst nightmares Kurapika didn't fall so much down to accept help from anybody of those, especially from their leader. Who had he become now, being treated by the one he hated most? Just the weakling, who can't keep the promise, to do the justice, who don't remember all the suffering his kinsmen felt at that fateful day. It shouldn't make any difference if Kurapika wasn't strong enough to kill the Spider and to fulfill the vow. Even in this state he could do something not to accept the help from them. He could just refuse, gathering all remains of his scattered pride and hate. And the fact that Kuroro was still alive lead to the devastating conclusion: all his hate was a lie, all his oaths were a lie, all these years were nothing then just a big lie. And liars were not better in any way then Spiders, especially those who lied about such serious matters. Now he ended up being no better that anyone from Phantom Troupe. And the Curse was sent as the punishment from his Kurutan gods, which were angry because of his lies. Enough moaning about his lack of power! He had done it before, his brethren were waiting for the revenge, for the death of everybody who was related to their misery. He decisively got up from bed and…

Everything around flashed in a bright blaze of fury, as Kurapika's eyes finally turned crimson and the nen chain materialized on his right hand. Cold links pleasantly cooled the skin and silently clinked, as if singing a soothing and encouraging song. He couldn't restrain his hatred and anger anymore, it was too strong to be controlled all the time, so his nen did it instead of him. His index finger chain - which had no seen ability for a reason – gently entangled him, preventing from making further movements. Meanwhile, his holy chain rose up without any order and accurately removed each scratch from Kurapika's body, then stopped exactly on his face level and started to swing from side to side just before his eyes. Its leisure movements mesmerized his mind, making him feel calm and relaxed. When it stopped to move, a dowsing chain started to spin, clinging to him like a tender cat. After a while it stiffened abruptly, pointing at the farthest wall. 'Leorio will come from that side.' Kurapika suddenly understood, as if his nen was talking to him in voice. Perhaps, it really was, in its own way.

His heart skipped a beat when he felt that the stake of retribution twitched a bit, but then he exhaled with a relief, knowing that it was only the sign of agreement with the last thought about speaking. Nen, no matter whom it belonged, was a force which lived on its own, from time to time allowing using it accordingly to its current user's wishes. But this force continued to speak, saying that Kurapika must control his emotions, suppress his rage. And he listened, silently obeying and accepting its will. With his mind being clear now, he almost understood how big mistake he was going to do.

Sometimes Kurapika really disliked the vengeful part of his character. While the logical part whispered that he should extract all possible benefits from the current situation, the wish to avenge called him to go mad and blow up the whole place, making sure first that nobody of those would escape. But again, the logical part reasoned that explosion is unreliable and he should calm down and wait for a moment, gathering as much information as possible. Fortunately, if he wasn't capable of restraining his emotions, his nen did it instead of him and cooled down his rage, helping Kurapika to make a right decision. And this decision was obvious: if the enemy is willingly giving this wonderful option to get some information, Kurapika must use this golden opportunity without any hesitation.

Now all his chains, except the index finger one, floated freely inside the room, shining dimly in a silver light. They were swirling and twisting at unpredictable angles, leaving a light shimmer after them, making the action to be seen like a some kind of a ghostly dance. It was an astonishing sight. At the first moment Kurapika thought he forgot to breathe out of admiration and it was the reason he lacked air. But the true reason was the index finger chain which restricted his movements like the chain jail did it with spiders before, moreover, it squeezed his chest hardly, making troublesome to breathe properly. The more he tried to break the chain, the more the pressure became. No matter how hard would he try, nothing helped, it was just a waste of power. It didn't come long for him to almost pass out when a chain disappeared. In fact, they all had disappeared, but he was too busy trying to deal with coughs and rattles to notice it at once.

"It seems like you can't control your nen now." Kuroro ascertained a fact, thinking that he barely got to steal ability in time. But no answer came, when Kurapika came to realization, that he can't feel his nen anymore.

He couldn't say, for how long he was sitting like this in a corner of this dusty room. He didn't notice, when Kuroro came out after restraining (or stealing?) his nen. He didn't notice how the old clock stopped ticking, or how quite it was outside. Unusually quite, even for a place, which Spiders should choose for their hideout. Or, perhaps, nothing alive could exist near them?

But he must sort all things out – what to do, when and how.

At first, he can't let it happen. Blurred mind didn't allow him to remember, what he didn't want to happen. Oh yes. Leorio. Kurapika didn't want to him to meet the Phantom Throupe. Since Kurapika knew from what side his friend will come, he should get out and meet him. Wait. Wasn't his previous plan to stay there for a while and observe spiders, waiting for a perfect timing to avenge?

Kurapika needed to get his mind clear. He decisively bit his finger, so strong that the the blood showed, hoping that the pain will help to collect thoughts.

Damn it! He didn't have enough time left.

Another law of this world: when you need an eternity, each second is on count, but when a day is enough, there are years in your stock.

The disease was progressing really fast, however, it wasn't the worst thing for now. The fact that he involved Leorio into his dealing with Spiders worried him much more than a genetic leftover from his massacred tribe. After leaving Yorkshin Kurapika has made one more vow: his revenge mustn't affect his friends - one more oath which wasn't held in the end. Those damned murderers were his and only his problem, the others didn't have to even accidently cross their path with Phantom Troupe once more. It was too dangerous for all of them, no matter how big force nen and a proper training would give to them.

After killing those two, Kurapika wasn't sure if he is able to kill the others. In the last day of his childhood he made an oath which he couldn't fully understand by that time. Killing wasn't for him, even if it was the justice. But while even one Spider stood alive, there always was a possibility that they would like to avenge too. Perhaps, they were following his each step, waiting for a good moment to strike out. It also meant that while he's with friends, they're endangered too. Considering all circumstances, the most reliable option to protect them was to stay away and cut any contacts until he makes sure that Spiders are gone forever. And so he had done, working further as a Nostrad's bodyguard leader and searching information about red eyes. The first bell of danger ringed, when he lost the whereabouts of Phantom Troupe members. The second one was the call from Killua. And the third one was when he faced a monster, which was using nen. It was the first fight after the Yorkshin he'd lost. Kurapika thought that he would just die; it was the first time he felt the symptoms of the disease. But then, before losing his consciousness, he noticed someone, dressed in black coat, which was decorated with white fur. It was the time when Kuroro have found him. Saved him. Sounds like a worst nightmare ever possible, doesn't it?

He ended up being a bait in the hands of the enemy. The first target was already going right into the spider's lair, willingly coming closer to the source of mortal danger. But Leorio had no choice, being tied by the bonds of friendship and by the chains of fear of losing somebody else.

"No matter what, Spiders will always be hunters, and I'll be their prey" Kurapika didn't realize that he whispered his last thought aloud. An empty room absorbed his words and there was heard nothing except for the intermittent breath of Kuruta. Any kind of strength has got it limits, his hatred and despair were no exception. He just hoped that the only strength he possessed all these years would be enough just for a bit longer, until he finishes his mission. But his silent prayers weren't answered. At least, voices didn't appear that much last time. It was really a blessing for him, to feel that no one is blaming him for being the only survivor from the whole tribe. Ghosts of his kinsmen haunted him without any shame, trying to get him on the edge of his sanity. Kurapika must find the way to stop them, before he will lose his mind and turn into a madman.

And here it came again. Since when did he become so weak to be knocked down just because of some pain?

Voices.

It was the first thing he noticed, as he brought round from another blackout. No, not again. He was too tired to handle this again. Voices were low as though coming from afar. Kurapika couldn't understand words they were saying, but it wasn't long before they will become loud and understandable. No need to guess, he already knew the accusations ghosts will throw upon him. The only problem was he didn't have enough willpower to stand against then. Looking from the other side, his fight was lost long ago, so why to resist now? Kurapika was just tired of that all, so he even didn't brace up himself as he used to do it in that kind of situation. Strangely, there were only male voices this time, no female at all. And they were so calm, nothing like usual screams.

"So, what would you say, Doctor?" Deep, almost completely emotionless voice was loud enough to understand everything it said. It wasn't someone from his tribe, either. Or was it? But in Kuruta tribe there weren't any doctors – only healers, herbalists, those, who hardly could be mentioned as doctors in the usual meaning of this word. And nobody ever turned for help to a stranger from the outer world for many generations before Kurapika's birth. It just was in the order of thing – a compelled self-isolation from everything outside their valley. And a right option to hide in the familiar place, where each tree could serve as a hideout.

"He's better for the moment, but it wouldn't long last if he continues staying like this." This voice was familiar too, but it sounded in totally different way from the previous one – it was full of various emotions, so alive and serious at the same time. As soon as the possibility to think logically returned to Kurapika, he understood that those voices weren't in his head. They're real. And very close. The distance, judging by the sound, was barely a foot or a two. Perhaps, he didn't have an ear as good as Senritsu did, but the life after leaving the homeland have taught him a couple of stunts. However, despite his starting mental recovery, his mind was too blurred to take the incoming information properly. For example, the voices were loud and clear enough, but he couldn't deduce or remember whom they belonged to.

The second thing he noticed was a cold and damp cloth over his face, which fully covered his eyes. Suddenly his nose felt the spicy scent of herbs, coming from it. This smell remembered him of some plants, which came from the south side of the world. An eternity ago, back then in a happy childhood Kurapika's mother – the best herbalist in the village – shared her knowledge with him, saying it can be a great help in the future. And those south ones were his mother's favourite; she said they reminded her about some good event which took place a long time ago.

Being unsure if opening his eyes would be the best option to show to unknown care-takers about the change in his condition, he stirred his fingers instead. This simple action made the bomb explosion equal effect.

"Kurapika! How do you feel?" Leorio whispered huskily after a short moment of unbelieving silence, relieved that at least something is going better. Kurapika couldn't see the face of his friend at that moment, but he felt relieved too, as he finally understood whose voice it was.

"Better, I guess." He answered as silently as Leorio spoke earlier. A little, but genuine smile appeared on his pale face, making him to look more alive. And it was a truth – he really felt much better now, even somehow relaxed comparing with his earlier state. Kurapika just raised his hands to take a cloth from his face, when Leorio just already did it. And for the first time for the last days Kurapika looked somewhat happy.

Thanks for reading and have a nice day! =)