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FLAWED PERFECTIONISTS
The Fallen Angel and the Last Kuruta

A Bookstore, A Basement, and Two Post-Apocalyptic Survivors

Chapter 4

Little Bleeding Bug Hurts Human Heart

Kurapika was watching the never-ending catastrophes and conflicts on the news. The blurred amateur videos, analytic diagrams, and reporters with serious faces were upside-down. His head was on the edge of the couch, his legs over the back-rest, and his arms sprawled on either side. Kurapika often sat upside-down after using his Scarlet Eyes. Contrary to expectation, his so-called red headaches receded more quickly when his brain was flooded in blood.

His desk phone rang. Wasn't he supposed to be on leave? He grumbled, got up, and answered the phone.

"Is this an emergency?" he asked in a flat tone of voice. He was about to hang up.

"Kurapika." It was the boss himself.

"Sir." The TV remained audible in the background.

"I need you. Specifically. Now."

"Understood."

Kurapika hung up and walked himself through the possibilities in order to prepare psychologically. A catastrophic failure of one of Arilyubov's agreements. An attempt at assassination? That was unlikely. Kurapika had written procedures for these things. Lucifer. Kurapika clutched his chest. To his relief, his Judgement Chain had not shifted or pierced the heart it held below, but then the blonde wondered why he felt this way. It was a sign that Kuroro had not escaped from the cell, and that Kurapika was not being called to deal with a mess.

In any case, his vacation was over. He turned off the television, grabbed his keys and weapons, and set out. There was no time to change into his black suit.

Kurapika went directly from his room to the headquarters, which were in the same building. He knocked on the door to Mister Konstantin Arilyubov's office, typed a code into a wall panel, waited for clearance, and entered. A bodyguard unknown to Kurapika greeted the blonde, and handed Kurapika an electronic card to access the oligarch's personal quarters. So it wasn't an external emergency, but rather something relating to Kurapika himself.

"Am I going to be executed?" Kurapika asked the guard in a bored voice. He always sounded bored after seeing red. It was as if the world went dull and quiet after the Scarlet intensity.

"I don't really know, sorry kid."

Kurapika looked at the bodyguard from the corner of his eye. He had not hired him personally. This clueless guy didn't even know Kurapika was several chains of command above him. The bodyguard reached out to pat Kurapika on the shoulder for comfort, but Kurapika was quick to shield himself from the patronizing gesture by showing his professional ID. The poor guard saw his prospects for promotion fly before his eyes and he tried to save himself from the wrath of his superior by bowing low in apology.

"Excuse me, Sir! I was not aware!"

Kurapika left, exasperated: he felt like his appearance had let him down once more. Was it because he was short? No. 170 cm wasn't short, was it? It was definitely the innocence in his overall look. But what could he do to change that? Was it his earring? He would never give up his Kuruta heritage. People would just have to wait and see when he grew just a bit older.

Kurapika entered the opulence and luxury which constituted his boss' apartments. As prime bodyguard, he knew where to go. He knocked and pushed the doors to the inside office. Two bodyguards were stationed to flank the Kuruta on either side. Kurapika hadn't finished bowing when Arilyubov spoke.

"Kurapika, I was informed that you were seen with Lucifer."

Kurapika straightened up and remained silent according to etiquette. The man was incredulous:

"What the hell? He's really alive?"

"That information is correct."

"He's here?"

"You personally delegated to me the authority to act unilaterally. I have him locked up and disarmed. The situation has to be evaluated before action can be taken."

"He was the leader of the Phantom Troupe."

"He still is the current leader and I am aware of the mafia's conflict with him."

"But! They're dead!" Wasn't the Spider wiped out?

Kurapika did not respond to his boss' interjection. If the world found out about the fake bodies, the media would quickly find its way to Arilyubov's front door, and Kurapika would have no choice but to deal with them.

"Kurapika, pick up the phone. I want you to contact the relevant people." He paused to look into the eyes of his underling. "Get rid of him. Hand him over." Arilyubov did not know what else to do with an individual of Kuroro's breed. To let others deal with him sounded like a perfectly sensible option.

"He's under my authority." Kurapika felt two auras intensify behind him as soon as his Chains appeared on his right hand. He covered them with his left and patted them away to avoid making a threatening gesture. He threw the two bodyguards an apologetic look to assure them his move was unintentional. "Mister Arilyubov, with my unchanging respect for you, Sir, I must insist. He's mine. I defeated him alone. I will resign from my job if I must go against your direct orders."

Konstantin Arilyubov was not expecting this.

"I will not sit here waiting for the actual Phantom Troupe to barge into my estate. Hand him over or dispose of him, and of the body."

Wasn't the Phantom Troupe dead? How had Kurapika captured Lucifer? Thousands of professionals were after him, the Ten Dons had even hired two Zoldyck assassins, yet the problem persisted. Was Kurapika that strong? It was probably another Nen thing beyond his grasp. Arilyubov congratulated himself on hiring such a skilled bodyguard for such a low salary. However, like all cheap services, he was posing problems. Had Kurapika not been irreplaceable, he would have fired the boy.

"Lucifer is dangerous. You should kill him while you have the chance."

"I know my trade. He's not a new enemy."

"I want a report."

"Yes, Sir."

"With the Nen."

"Yes, with the Nen. Sir, Lucifer is disarmed. By that I mean he has no Nen at all."

"You said everyone has a little Nen," Arilyubov waved his hand in circles, looking for the words Kurapika had used to explain it, "life energy."

"You are right. Lucifer has nothing left, I took away his Nen."

"First of all, how did this happen? And second, isn't that unnatural?"

"I used a special ability on him and indeed, he feels unnaturally like a corpse. If I may be excused, Sir, I have a vacation to resume, not to mention a certain prisoner to deal with."

The last words were tainted with exasperation. Kurapika sounded like an overworked dad who was alluding to an attention-seeking kid. The boy had discarded Arilyubov's advice, but he had explained some Nen things. Arilyubov was content: Kurapika had not even obtained a raise and that was all that mattered to the mafioso.

oo o oo

Kurapika walked down the first corridor to the sea. At the corner, the temperature dropped slightly and sent a chill up his back. Kurapika took a left in the hallway.

"Kurapika."

The voice was a whisper. Kurapika increased his walking speed. His body was releasing adrenaline into his veins to over perform athletically in the face of danger. Let it do something physical, then.

"Kurapika."

"What?" Kurapika muttered through clenched teeth. He was not far from his room.

"I'm so proud of you."

Kurapika pulled at his crimson earring. He turned another corner and opened the door to his room as quickly as possible.

"Father?" The blonde called into his room.

Kurapika searched for his voice. Whenever he tried to listen, he would find memories, stored deep within: words of his past that would whisper to him.

"You really have character, to have talked in such a bold way. You're quite like your—"

"Mother, I know," Kurapika answered as he slouched against his door.

"What are you going to do with him?" Kurapika's father had asked this many times about animals Kurapika had brought home, but this time, he was referring to Lucifer.

"I'll figure something out."

"No, I want you to tell me what you're going to do."

"I want to know what happened." Kurapika's voice got caught in sorrow. "I need to know."

Kurapika pushed himself off his front door to go sit on the couch. Tears appeared in his eyes.

Family members were sat down facing each other. They were stabbed multiple times and had their heads severed while still alive, went the newspaper report. Kurapika groaned and shook his head.

The blonde had imagined his father would have wanted Kurapika never to find out about the Phantom Troupe. Kurapika's father had been somewhat of a gentle traditionalist and Kurapika knew in his heart that he had gone against his father's will the moment he set out on his quest for revenge.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Kurapika shook his head to dismiss the horror, then nodded.

"I'm fine."

"Get started on your homework, then, young man."

Kurapika cheered up. His homework. What was his homework? Kurapika's good mood dispersed when he deduced that his brain was reminding him to write the report for Arilyubov.

Kurapika needed courage to confront the issue, so he thought back on his journey in the outside world which he would have to tell Pairo about in detail: at first he had had no hope to win against the Gen'ei Ryodan, but then he realized he had nothing to lose and all hell broke loose. Kurapika was stronger now, strong enough to set things right.

Set things right, he mumbled, echoing his thoughts in mocking parody. Kurapika started writing the report on his computer. He gave the information he had collected, detailing Lucifer's response to elevators and to the security check, and to the darkness. Kurapika wrote down safety procedures about the Istridsen auction, and added to the top of the document 'no apparent link found to Arilyubov. Situation to be investigated.'

Kurapika continued the account.

'Prisoner is interested in an artifact named 'Scarlet Eyes'. Wants as many extant copies as possible. The artifact is needed by myself, for Nen reasons. The 'Eyes' are most probably a means to deepen the preexisting conflict between Lucifer and myself.'

Thinking about the eyes of his clansmen, it occurred to Kurapika that he could probably obtain autopsy pictures on the Hunter website with his Licence. But if he had the photographs, would he have the heart to look at them? Probably not. Kurapika logged in and inserted his Licence.

"Information about Kuroro Lucifer," asked the blonde.

"200 000 jenny."

"Wait a minute," Kurapika said to the barman.

Why pay for superficial, irrelevant, or even useless information on the Hunter website when he could just ask Kuroro himself? The blonde left the website.

Kurapika sat in his couch and took a pile of post-it notes to prepare his questions. It was nearly impossible to picture himself asking questions politely to the murderer of his parents. In fact, he felt like the appropriate course of action was to rush into the cell and punch the man to death. Kurapika sat back and breathed slowly to regain his composure. No, it was his duty to recover information so that such a horror would never happen again. He needed to know every single detail about the crimes committed that night. Or day; maybe it happened in broad daylight. He needed Kuroro Lucifer to acknowledge his actions. Why did the Spider bring death upon such a peaceful tribe? How could someone even devise such a nightmare? And what monster was cruel enough to execute such an idea? He would ask to know what happened on that fateful day of... the massacre. Kurapika promised himself to hear Lucifer out before doing anything violent. Once they were done talking, maybe he'd lose it.

Kurapika wanted to hit something to let off steam, but he contented himself by putting down the pen and blank post-its with slightly too much force. He got up, grabbed his keys, and ran out. His hair was already a mess when he saw his reflection, and he hadn't even confronted Kuroro yet.

Only in the elevator did Kurapika realize he had no food with him for Lucifer. Oh well, if he starved to death... he would starve to death, ridding the planet of one more Spider.

Kurapika followed the same route to the cell. Guards peered at him as if he was a lit flame burning into the darkness. Kurapika paid them no attention. His heels echoed down the hallway where the air became scarcer as he proceeded.

He authorized access to the cell and switched on the light, blinding Kuroro temporarily. Lucifer stood up, his arms crossed to avoid heat loss.

"Good day. I don't have a clue what time it is, sorry." Kuroro squinted and brought his hand up to cover his eyes.

"Kuroro Lucifer, I am here for answers. I demand to know what happened five years ago in the Lukso forest." And if I still have the sanity to listen to you after that, I want you to tell me about your life, in detail.

Kuroro smiled. "There were thirteen Spiders and a hundred or so Kurutas."

"One hundred and twenty-eight," Kurapika corrected, "and you killed them all."

"I didn't kill them all. If you do the math, I must have killed a dozen or so."

Kurapika's Eyes activated. His body threw a punch before thinking, and his fist planted itself into the concrete. Kuroro was forced to dodge because his body would not have been able to withstand a blow like that.

"Is it in my interest to answer your questions?" Kuroro asked honestly. "Or do you want me to remain silent?"

Kurapika caught his breath. Kuroro was very close, apparently willing to take the risk of losing his life to Kurapika's anger.

"Do you understand what you did to me?" asked the Kuruta.

Kuroro closed his eyes. I really don't care. And you're getting really emotional. Better watch out before you do something careless.

Kurapika zeroed in on the raven-haired man. "Go on. Tell me what happened," Kurapika encouraged as if he were taunting his enemy to fight him.

"We took the Eyes at their brightest from the living Kurutas, then we beheaded them."

"I know! I know that! How did you take the Eyes?"

"I don't remember. With a blunt knife or something like that. Why do you ask?"

Kurapika grabbed Lucifer by the neck. Kuroro blinked, and he found his heart transported in that split second to an open sky of perfect peace and freedom. For that split second, Kuroro felt like he had enough time to enjoy life, free of concerns. The Judgement Chain softened its silver grip to allow its prisoner to live the scene appearing in his mind.

In the blissful vision, Kuroro stared down at handwritten pages in a leather-bound book. He almost got tears in his eyes when he recognized his handwriting. This was a collection of all the embarrassing things he liked to dream about when he was alone. The sight of his young dreams distracted him thoroughly enough that he did not notice the Kuruta sneaking up on him and taking the book straight out of his hands. Kurapika stole a glance at the open page as he distanced himself from the young man with straight black hair. Kuroro was a bit surprised for being in such a weak position, having to run after the happy blonde to stop him from discovering all the abominations which he was planning on taking to the grave, but then his own teenage voice broke in the middle of his order to return his property. This really was the end of his reputation, not that he had one, but still. The raven-haired boy gave up running and stood in shock as his secrets were read like an open book; in the open book, which he had written.

The blonde finally looked up into his eyes and Kuroro was washed over by a wave of serenity. Kurapika's expression filled his heart with hope and with renewed life. The blond boy… liked what he saw in that book. With a grin devoid of malice or mockery, he showed Kuroro a page with a diagram of a castle… on a cloud. Kurapika's finger pointed to it with excitement and curiosity. "Where?" he asked.

Kuroro's deep memories resurfaced like creatures from the abyss. He had a feeling that he had asked the same naive question a long time ago. Kuroro had wanted to know which way to escape and to explore this castle in the sky. Kurapika was just like him. At last Kuroro felt; no, he knew that he had found someone who could understand!

Kuroro did not resist at all when the blonde closed his fingers around his enemy's neck. This pulled the leader of the Phantom Troupe back to reality. He had to think fast. Kurapika got close to the Spider head and yelled back.

"You— you destroyed my life!"

"You could thank me. Look where you are now, your clan would have prevented you from developing your potential."

Was that right? Was Kurapika's destiny to become a strong Nen user? He looked so cute and fluffy—uhhh… nice. What did he do to get choked like this? What was destiny anyway?

Kurapika imperceivably shook his head.

"You are going straight to hell after I'm done with you."

This time Kuroro had gone too far too soon. What could Kurapika do to him that Kuroro could not take?

"When did you find out? I literally own the place. I can show you around if you like."

Kurapika wanted to crush his neck but he punched the concrete next to Kuroro's head instead. The wall exploded in their faces.

"You did unspeakable things to the Kuruta Clan."

"Well, we were discussing the issue, but apparently you do not grasp the concept of verbal communica—"

Kuroro made a sound in between a groan and a heavy breath. Kurapika had lowered his Nen before punching him. The blonde was furious that Kuroro had not even blocked his attack. His Eyes grew brighter as hundreds of strands of red tensed in his iris.

Kuroro half fell against the wall from the blow, before standing back up. He caught his breath and looked at the beautiful Kuruta to behold the workings of Kurapika's Nen. Cold chains materialized around Kuroro's body. They were invisible, but Kuroro could picture them in his mind's eye. Dainty silver chains like spider silk, glinting in the darkness and capturing him in the familiar manner he knew from a few months prior. It was not such a bad feeling, being held in place like this.

"Is there one thing you have not done to your victims!?"

The chains slowly constricted.

"Oh I have standards. You know me quite poorly, Kuruta. Aren't you a Pro Hunter?" Kurapika willed his ability to wring the air out of Lucifer's lungs, along with his insolence. "I would expect —you to be more systematic in —your —investigations. You're still young,—so it's understandable—that you work on—impulse."

In the end, Kuroro had trouble breathing.

"You think you're above everybody else."

"Maybe."

Kurapika could hear Kuroro was smiling at the pain. He sounded quite uncomfortable. Kuroro's eyes were riveted on the blond hair masking the Kuruta's glowing red eyes. Kurapika was noticeably shorter than Kuroro, and he was looking down in disbelief.

"You have no respect for fellow human beings."

This was a whisper of Kurapika's heart. Kuroro did not let it echo: he tried to hold the chains open long enough to finish his argument.

"Universal equality arose as an invention of Christianity to appeal to the masses. Anthropocentrism is also a subjective man-made construct."

Kurapika lit up Kuroro's face with his Scarlet Eyes. He spoke loudly and clearly.

"Humans feel sympathy and empathy for beings which are similar to them. You have no feelings for other people?"

Kuroro grinned.

"Not by default."

"I'll have to teach you then."

"You'll fix me," mocked the serial killer.

"Pre-cisely. You're intelligent, Kuroro. I'm sure you can learn good behavior in due time."

The chains softened their grip again.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

"You're a special case, Kuroro."

"Oh! How so? Do tell me in which delightful way I'm special."

Kurapika conjured the best pedagogical smile he had. Kuroro was making fun of him and Kurapika had no choice but to communicate his feelings through physical strength. The chains tightened further and Kuroro's smile was washed away as his eyes lifted up towards sea level. He was drowning.

"You killed my mother and my father. And every last member of my family. And every person I knew and loved. I just feel like killing you in return. However, I'm sure you've noticed, I have not done so yet."

Kuroro could not speak anymore; the chains were crushing him. He was underwater.

"Because however infuriating, disgusting, useless, and dangerous a person can be, murder is not a solution. Destroying you is not good enough!"

Kurapika held Kuroro with Chain Jail for another minute, each second answering his thirst for violence. When he let go of him, Kuroro simply fell to the floor and started bleeding.

Kurapika felt like a child who had played too roughly with a small insect. It was not moving. He felt a little guilty, but powerful. He hoped the bug would be back on its feet the following day to play again. If it wasn't, well, there were plenty more to be caught out there. Kurapika left, victorious but disgusted, mostly by himself.

Kurapika looked at himself in the elevator mirror. With every passing year, he grew to resemble his mother. Or maybe his memory of her appearance was receding and he was reconstructing it using his own face. It didn't matter; she was still there in his heart. Nothing could take her from Kurapika, right? As long as he had his memories, he would have the strength to live on.

With no eyes to see, she would certainly listen to her son's explanation of the sounds she heard in the cell, or rather the silencing of the other voice. She had scolded Kurapika many times throughout his childhood for getting into fights. Kurapika had to learn to resolve conflicts with a non-violent approach.

Kurapika chuckled. He would have liked to hear her say that about the conflict with Kuroro. Kurapika knew his mother's advice was meant for the boy, not for the Blacklist Hunter, but still he felt like he had gone against her will. What did she know? Had she even seen Kuroro before dying? Had she even heard his voice? Surely she would understand!

Kuroro did not look evil per se. His voice was actually nice. It was his aura which was unmistakably hell-bound. Kurapika's mother must have felt Kuroro Lucifer's Nen, which wasn't even his own to begin with. It was like zombie Nen; dead and severed parts ripped from their owners, sewn together and controlled to do unnatural things. Kurapika shivered at the idea of Kuroro touching his mother, his aura all around her. In fact he was shivering at the memory of being inside Lucifer's En range before having captured him in York Shin.

As soon as he was back in his room, Kurapika washed his hands. He had done just fine. He was the victim for goodness' sake! What was with all the introspective scrutiny and criticism?

Kurapika found some comfort in the familiar feeling of hunger, which called his thoughts back to himself. It wasn't even hunger, but an appetite, rather. And the feeling meant that food would taste really good. As a boy living in the forest of Lukso, Kurapika had only rarely seen seafood. Fish was always present once a year at the summer banquet, but real seafood had remained mysterious and unattainable for the young Kuruta. It was reserved for the adults, like all the other food from the outside world.

Kurapika opened the freezer. It was stacked full of frozen jumbo shrimp, squid and octopus of all sizes, king scallops, clams, mussels, and other shellfish. Kurapika grabbed one of the bags promising instant reward and emptied it on a plate which he shoved into the microwave oven.

He found sleep that night. He hadn't suffered too much from nightmares recently and his negative emotions had been unloaded onto Kuroro, so simple Nen exhaustion claimed the young Kuruta who curled up into a ball in his bed. He was safe up there. His duty was to deal intelligently with Kuroro, that is, if he was still alive.

oooooo o oooooo

Down below, if it had not been for the worst orientation, Kuroro would not have woken up. He was cold. He tried to move but he felt sticky for some reason. The smell of his own blood; Kuroro knew it like no other. He liked it because it was soft and red and salty, but it was not something he ever looked forward to smelling. He wasn't a masochist. It was dry, and he didn't remember suffering cranial trauma, so he could go straight back to sleep.

So Kurapika thinks he can teach me to care about the pathetic fate of others? Right now, I barely care about my own. Kuroro was not exactly optimistic about the outcome.

Pain was asking for his attention, and he was starting to feel hunger after a couple days, but he could sleep with it. He turned north because it was impossible for him to sleep in the east-west orientation which had woken him up. In hotels, it had often happened that the bed was turned wrong. Originally, he had thought he was just not able to sleep from stress, because he'd wake up having turned excessive angles. He would have dreams of swimming or drowning then finally he would give up and sink, which was when he woke up. The solution was to turn north. Kuroro hadn't dreamed about water ever since he had figured it out. He was indeed weird.

What is the vision Kuroro has? Why does it happen? Any theories?

How did you like Kuroro's honest answers to Kurapika's burning questions?