Series: Hunter X Hunter
Title: Promise
Rating: R
Pairing/ Characters: Kuroro, Kurapika, and Kurapika's family
Word Count: 574
Warning/s: Angst; Creepy. Evil! Kuroro
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Dedication: Kari Ishikawa, my third reviewer. Working on your drabble soon! Should show up after... a couple more, I think.
Kuroro smiled as the woman's chest exploded in a fountain of red, her mouth uttering a silent scream. Her eyes matched the crimson color that stained the wood floor beneath her corpse.
A man lay not far from where the woman's body had landed, his eyes glowing red as well. His face was contorted, equally with pain and with anger. He did not look at the fallen form of his wife: his scarlet eyes seeking only the empty black void of Kuroro.
"Why?" the man gasped, with a sick gurgling sound. Kuroro almost started in surprise; he had thought that with the amount of blood rushing into his throat, the man would be rendered speechless.
"For money," Kuroro replied simply, voice holding no apology. Seconds later, the man on the floor was overcome with his injuries, and he joined his wife in the darkness of death.
There was no emotion in Kuroro's heart as he turned from the pair. He felt no thrill at killing them; they were much too weak to be any real match for him, after all. They were simple farmers, powerless against his Nen. However, there was no grief either. This was simply work to him, nothing else.
He looked underneath the kitchen table, where a young boy crouched.
Kurapika did not look at where his parents lay; his attention was only on the man that was currently walking towards him. He was old enough to understand death; he was old enough to understand that this man, this horrible man that was gliding towards him, was death. Kurapika did not flinch as the man leaned down, and looked into his eyes.
"Why?" Kurapika asked, in a voice far steadier than it had any right to be.
The man did not answer the question again; Kuroro knew that the young boy hiding under the table had heard his answer the first time when his father had asked it. Instead, he was filled with a certain curiosity: why did the boy not flinch in front of his parents' murderer?
"Do you hate me?" Kuroro heard himself ask.
Kurapika nodded, his eyes trained on Kuroro's the whole time.
"Do you want to kill me?"
Kurapika did not move; did not dare to answer. To say yes would mean his death; to say no would be to tell a transparent lie.
"What is your name?" Kurapika asked, face unnaturally still.
The man looked shocked for a moment, and then only amused. "Kuroro Lucifer."
Kurapika blinked slowly, and for a moment his eyes were a brighter hue than that of his parents' combined. "Yes. I want to kill you."
Kuroro had the gall to chuckle, and raised his hand, ready to strike. "What's your name, kid?"
Kurapika did not look away from Kuroro's eyes, to his raised hand. He did not back up more under the table, as his instincts screamed at him to. He held his gaze steady, and answered in an empty voice that was not quite his own.
"I'll tell you when I kill you," Kurapika said, and it was barely a whisper.
Kuroro held the gaze, and slowly, let his hand drop.
"Is that a promise?" Kuroro asked, curious once again.
At the last Kurata's nod, Kuroro smirked, and stood.
That was the last time for many, many years that Kurapika would see Kuroro, the leader of the Genei Ryodan.
But neither of them forgot the promise that they had made.
AN: Still taking requests.