Hello from a short hiatus! School has been crazy, with all of my instructors piling on so much this semester... and exams, too. But I'm back with another chapter! It took way too long to pick this back up, but I figured I should update... so here you go! This one has a heavy dose of cliches and angst, so buckle up! Thank you all so much for your continued support of this dying fic, especially to my lovely, amazing reviewers from my last chapter: Stelra Etnae, Ashenvale, DAIrinchan (love you lots), momz, Sweets Dreamer (hi!), Laviente, Chocoholic (you're so sweet), KuroKura (3), and Slyside :). Thanks so much for your support! Hope to be back soon!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter x Hunter
See bottom of chapter for added notes
Chapter Ten
Kurapika was torn.
Sleep had evaded him all of the previous night, but for reasons entirely different from what he had expected. The apprehensions of his fragile plans had crossed his mind once or twice, yes, but he found that instead his mind was occupied on more painful things. Things that still ran tirelessly through his min at that very moment. Of his friends, whom he would have to betray for a second time. Of Leorio, specifically, whom he had seen as a lover, once, before he realized that the doctor was just another, damned collateral in his damaging life. Of his family, and the paradox that ripped his conscience to pieces.
He was achieving his goals; he was finally going to be able to atone for the sins he had brought onto his clan. Yet, here he was, wrapped up in the arms of the his greatest sin of all.
The arm around his waist shifted slightly, hand feeling too warm for that of a murderer's. He had difficulty comprehending that those hands, that had, just hours ago, touched him with such gentleness and patience, had rested without mercy on the cooling bodies of his clansmen.
Kurapika turned carefully in the other's embrace, careful not to rouse the man. Facing him, the blond's resolve wavered slightly. Kuroro's face looked so deceptively innocent, so calm, as he slept. Running a tentative hand down the other's face, Kurapika tried to compose himself. He couldn't afford to get too mixed up in messy feelings such as these. Not when he was so close.
But something was stirring deep in his mind, awoken by the tumultuous events of the past few weeks. The hunger of the last night had quieted, replaced by something much more frightening. He had experienced it only once before, and it had only ended in blood on his hands.
Kurapika tried his best to shove such foolishness out of his mind, a part of his wishing for the cold cruelty that he had possessed in Yorknew. Had he become too soft?
Extricated himself from the other's grasp, he stood up, the last traces of lethargy exiting his system. He dressed quickly, not quite sure what to think about the all-too-familiar scent of pine and parchment sticking to his skin. Casting one last look at the sleeping man in front of him, Kurapika slipped out of the room.
Kuroro woke to an empty bed the next morning. He knew that he shouldn't have been surprised, but the cold sheets of the bed were still disappointing. Checking his watch, he noted the time; one hour before the plan started. Throwing himself into routine, he tried his best to stay focused. Once this job was done, he would be able to pursue Kurapika properly.
All he had to do was keep the blond alive.
Just as he had suspected, Kurapika was in the queen's chambers. He was dressed in a crisp suit, not a hair out of place, and Kuroro immediately preferred the Kurapika that he had held the previous night. The one with mussed-up hair, soft clothes; the one that welcomed his touch.
As soon as Kurapika noticed his presence, he stopped talking. Turning his head slightly to glance at the dark-haired man, Kuroro was encouraged to see a light blush tinting the Kurta's cheeks. Raising a brow, Kuroro smiled at the younger man, something that was subtly returned.
"Alright," Kurapika began, once Bill had strolled in with a mug of coffee in hand. "The Fourth Prince's men will be here in half and hour. It is necessary for us to be ready by then. There is much at stake here, and we cannot afford to make any errors."
Looking at each of them in turn, Kurapika continued. "It does not matter what happens, or what goes wrong. Your first priority is the Queen and Prince Woble. Nothing else should take precedence." He shot a meaningful look at Kuroro. "As far as I know, the prince is sending a party of half a dozen men, but we should be prepared for more."
"There are only three of us here," Bill pointed out, "and an excess of six of them. The math doesn't exactly add up, seeing as we are dealing with an elite army."
"I'll take those odds," Kurapika replied, shrugging.
"And once we incapacitate the guards," Bill prompted, "what do we do next?"
"That part of the plan hasn't changed. The Queen's handmaidens have already left, so at least that's collateral out of the way. You get our charges to the nearest exit. I've prepared it for you; there is a set of stairs leading out from the servant's quarters, and you must take them. It will lead to the kitchens, which should be empty at this hour, and the rest is rather self-explanatory."
"What of the guards up here? How are we going to hide the evidence?" Bill asked.
"I will take care of it. You just have to trust me."
"I'm sorry," Kuroro cut in, raising a hand like a common schoolboy. "But what is the exact objective here? I understand that I joined this little party late, but I'm still very much unclear of how your intent to simply flee during the confusion went to actually engaging in the conflict."
"Tserriednich's conditions for the plan are harsh, but I have found a way to bend it to our advantage. You will just have to trust me," Kurapika responded, brown eyes snapping to each person in the room. "Do you trust me?"
A quiet chorus of 'yes' rose up, and the blond nodded, pleased.
"Now, the plan is that while Kuroro and I work to incapacitate the guards, Bill, you will usher the queen and the Prince out of their quarters. You must watch the door in case Kuroro and I are on the other side. If after three minutes neither of us show, then take our charges and go. I've enforced the door with my nen, so once it is closed, no one can enter through it from the outside as long as I am alive. Do you understand?"
Bill swallowed nervously, something akin to dread pooling in his stomach. "Of course." This cannot end well.
"And Kuroro," Kurapika began, voice cutting around a little in his throat at the other's name, "should I give the order for it, you will drop everything and assist Bill. There will be no excuses and no hesitation, yes?"
There was an obvious pause before Kuroro reluctantly spoke. "Sure." The small word stabbed mutinously in the back of Kuroro's mouth.
"Good." Kurapika clapped his hands together. "Now, you all are dismissed to carry out what you need to do before the Fourth Prince's soldiers arrive." Bill and Queen Oito dipped their heads in acknowledgment, filing out of the room, but Kuroro hung back. After a moment of weighing his options, the Phantom Troupe leader went into action.
"Last night," the dark-haired man murmured, making his way forward, "are we just going to disregard it?"
There a pause, then. Kurapika fidgeted minutely with his pen, hands trembling with an unknown emotion. The silence stretched. Kuroro's heart sank a little bit. Perhaps the previous night had just been a fluke?
"Is that a yes?" he asked, voice miraculously even.
The blond's head snapped up, but still he remained with his back to Kuroro. "Do you remember?"
Confusion flickered over Kuroro's features before he regained his composure. "Remember what, exactly?"
"Do you remember the first time that we encountered each other?" Kurapika shot back, quickly.
Oh. "Yorknew City. When you kidnapped me," Kuroro answered, the memories welling up.
The other man sighed. "No," Kurapika said, with more force than he intended. Voice softening, he added, "No, that is not right."
Kuroro took this as an indication to step forward. "No?"
"Seven years ago, you came into the neighboring town of Satoko," Kurapika explained haltingly, as if he was reliving a painful recollection. Which for all Kuroro knew, he was. "There you asked for directions from a random kid off of the street. But you knew, of course you knew, where he had come from. He had exactly what you wanted, and yet you let him live."
A single fragment of memory struck Kuroro. A flash of blond hair, and voice, younger and more lively than what was familiar, "I'm Kurapika! Pleasure to meet you..." "You..."
Kurapika turned to him then, a sad smile playing at his lips. "I'll keep an ear out for you," the blond recited, tone devoid of any bitterness or sorrow. "Well, it seems that you forgot."
It felt like someone had filled his veins with ice, with the amount of cold shock that slammed into Kuroro. How easily he had discarded the name, discarded the faceless boy like an empty wrapper. It hadn't seemed important at the time, but now he couldn't imagine how he'd forgotten. And Kurapika... it must have been hell to have that kind of guilt resting on his shoulders... for the first time, he felt regret.
Not exactly regret for his killing, but regret for the broken person he'd left in his wake.
Unknowingly, Kuroro took a step towards the blond. Kurapika didn't seem to have the will to move away.
"I used to wonder if it would have been better..."
The hollow note in the other's voice set off alarm bells in the Phantom Troupe leader's head. "Better?"
Kurapika met his gaze for the first time, and Kuroro noted the red stirring behind his slate contacts. "Better if you had just killed me right then and there."
The dark-haired man was at a loss for words. All of his thoughts had seemingly dried up and died in his head. "I-I..."
Shaking his head, Kurapika looked down. "... but now I know." There was something tightening at the back of his throat, but Kurapika fought it back. "As long as I can return the eyes to them, then it will have been enough. I will have been enough."
Kuroro moved closer, cautiously. "Kurapika..."
"If I don't come back," Kurapika began, grey eyes pinning Kuroro with a sharp stare, "then promise me that you will not hesitate."
"You will survive. I'll make sure of it," Kuroro insisted, but Kurapika shook his head adamantly.
"Promise me."
Sighing, the Spider complied. "Alright, I promise." It was an empty statement, one that Kuroro didn't mean to uphold, something that the both of them knew, Kurapika exhaled shakily.
"Good."
Something inside of Kuroro's chest hammered painfully. It was suffocating to see the blond so empty and bereft of his usual fire. The need to touch him, to reach out for him, was overwhelming. Then, when he had just about drowned in his thoughts, Kuroro leaned in. Capturing the other's lips, suddenly Kuroro could breathe again.
Their lips met again and again, although none of the fervor from the previous night was present. It was slower this time, but with no less amount of passion behind it. Kuroro's hands migrated up to cup Kurapika's cheek, and the blond leaned against his touch with only slight hesitation.
It was a desperate gesture, and Kuroro tasted goodbye on Kurapika's lips.
"I'm sorry," Kurapika whispered in between kisses. A slight clink of chains was heard, then, and Kuroro realized at once what Kurapika was doing.
Breaking away, Kuroro tried to step back, but it was too late. A nen-cloaked chain pierced through his heart, and Kuroro winced at the sudden sharpness. Looking up into the other's crimson eyes, the metaphorical knife in Kuroro's gut twisted in deeper.
"I had to," was all that Kurapika said. "I had to."
Before Kuroro could demand to have the conditions off of him, before he could even make a move towards the Kurta, a series of sharp raps sounded against the door.
"He's here," Kurapika whispered to himself. A brief flash of fear appeared in the blond's eyes, and Kuroro so wished that he could erase it away. But the chains bound fast around his heart said otherwise.
Bill and Queen Oito hurried into the front room, as directed. Giving a slight nod to his charges, Kurapika approached the door. Pressing the intercom button, Kurapika fought to keep his voice steady.
"May I ask who is requesting an audience with the Thirteenth Prince?"
The video feed fizzled into focus, and Muhan grinned back gleefully at him. Kurapika inwardly sighed. Could this day get any worse?
"A special visit from the Fourth Prince... to address some concerns."
Turning back to his friends, Kurapika gave them a brittle smile. The blond set his stopwatch for three minutes.
"Of course," Kurapika forced himself to reply, and he unlocked the door.
At once, a swarm of bodyguards entered the room, and gunshots rang out amidst the chaos. Deflecting the majority of the bullets with his chains, Kurapika did a mental headcount. Eighteen. Prince Tserriednich had sent triple what he had expected. He must really want me dead. At least the feeling's mutual. Silently urging at Bill to get the Queen and her daughter away, Kurapika tried to remain level-headed.
Eighteen men, some of them nen-users. Two remaining bodyguards.
Logically, nine for each. Apparently, logic was something lost on Tserriednich's bodyguards, as twelve were currently focusing the brunt of their attacks onto the blond, leaving the remaining six to Kuroro.
Kurapika allowed himself a quick glance at his watch. Two minutes and twenty seconds. Might as well take out as many as I can.
Swiftly, Kurapika dropped out of his defensive stance. There was no need to cover such a large radius, anyway, and he trusted that Kuroro could handle himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dark-haired man skillfully darted around his opponents, his Ben's knife in hand and two odd fish circling around him.
Turning his attention back to his own group, he noticed that they had all stilled, as if waiting for something.
"Well, don't all of you move at once," Kurapika quipped, readying his dowsing chain.
"Boss gave us special orders to bring you back in one piece," Muhan called out gleefully. Kurapika sighed. He had just managed to forget that the idiotic man was present. "I'm sure that you'll great strung up on his wall," the bodyguard drawled, "'cause the Prince likes things that don't talk back." Muhan sneered. "But I guess you always were to busy to talk—"
"Do choose your next words carefully," Kurapika cut in, voice sharp and carefully measured.
"Or what?" Muhan challenged. "You no longer have the protection of my boss. I guess he got tired of having a whor—"
Kurapika called his chains back, feeling no satisfaction. Kuroro laughed, a cold, mirthless thing, from his position across the room, and the remaining eleven bodyguards charged. The blond lost himself in the fray, not trusting himself to think. Eleven... ten... nine... eight... seven... six...
The remaining half-dozen looked shaken, but they didn't show any signs of retreating, much to their credit. With Kuroro's help, Kurapika cleaned up the remaining. The last six were nen-less, but Kurapika was still exhausted by the time the last body dropped. The words of the last bodyguard still rung in his ears.
"We're just the first wave," he'd said, an eerie smile on his lips as passed.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kurapika's sighed. "There are more coming."
"We can handle them," Kuroro told him confidently. Kurapika shot him an undecipherable look.
"No." He stole a glance at his watch. Seven seconds. "We need to go." Not waiting for a confirmation, Kurapika grabbed the other's arm and steered him to the entrance. The distant stomping of boots sounded from behind them. "Hurry."
They were at the door now, and Kurapika could make out the faint sounds of breathing behind it. Still, Kuroro hesitated, head snapping back to look at him.
"You don't plan on going with me, do you?"
The incoming drum of soldiers was closer now, but the words and Kurapika's lips seemed to have died.
"There's no time," he said, looking down. "Now go." He could hear the guards were only a couple meters away.
Kuroro couldn't breathe, much less move.
"Go!" Kurapika whispered, voice cracking. He forced the door open and shoved the black-haired man through the entrance.
"No. No, Kurapika, we can figure this out," Kuroro assured him, panic creeping into his words. "I can't—you can't—"
In hindsight, maybe Kurapika should have said something more profound, more comforting. Maybe he should have told Kuroro that he'd be okay, or that he would just have to trust him to get through. But the only thing that escaped his mouth was a strangled, "I'm sorry."
The uncomposed expression on Kuroro's face looked so out of place that it made Kurapika's determination waver. Then the footsteps got louder, echoing in his ears, and Kurapika's mind went on overdrive.
The soldiers flooded the kitchen, and Kurapika heaved the door shut, sealing it with his nen.
No one gets in, and no one gets out.
Facing down Fourth Prince's bodyguards, Kurapika sharpened his resolve.
Kuroro stared at the door in shock. The door practically glowed with the blond's aura protecting it, and the chains tightened warningly around Kuroro's heart. He wanted to burst through the door, to do something, but Kurapika had taken even that away from him. Once again, Kurapika had burst into his life and stolen everything away from him.
"We need to leave now," he bit out, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. Stay calm. Bill and Queen Oito stood behind him, still frozen. Prince Woble whimpered, as if understanding what was going on. When no one made a move to leave, Kuroro spun to look at them, face once again a flawless mask of indifference. "We can't let his sacrifice go for nothing. Now, hurry."
This seemed to jar them to their senses. Taking up the rear, Kuroro set his jaw as he walked away from the door, the noises of the battle still sounding strangely from the stairwell. Cold fluid slipped through his veins, paralyzingly cold: fear.
He could still feel the warmth of the blond next to him from the previous night, and he clung to it.
You just have to trust me.
What will happen is just going to have to happen.
Halfway through their descent, Kuroro felt everything go dead silent, as if the white noise in the back of his mind had lessened. Bill stopped, meeting the dark-haired man's eyes with dread etched into his expression.
They both knew what had happened.
The chains around his heart seemed to tighten, the metal cold as ice. Desperate, Kuroro reached out his nen, searching. Surely, if the blond's nen was still sealing the door...
One second. Two. Three.
Nothing.
Kuroro couldn't breathe.
To be Continued...
Added Notes
1) So Kurapika/Leorio used to be a thing? Not sure how this happened but yeah it happened
2) The writing style totally changed because I wrote the first chunk today and the rest of it was fabricated two months ago... so sorry for the discontinuity.
3) Sorry for the boatload of cliches... I had some serious trouble getting from point A to B in a way that made sense in this chapter! Next few chapters will hopefully be more smooth, but I need to actually catch up on the manga first to get updated info
4) Yeah, I killed Muhan. Whoops?
5) I'm operating under the assumption that Kurapika's nen Judgement Chain still remains post-death, so yeah...
6) Next chapter will be pretty depressing for a few parts, because Kuroro's coping with our favorite blond's death.
7) Anybody notice how Hisoka hasn't shown up yet? :)
8) Kurapika finally let Kuroro in on his tragic cliche backstory, so the drama is really going to inflate next chapter(s)
9) Any predictions for next chapter? Please feel free to let me know in reviews!
As always, thanks so much for reading and supporting this fic!
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