Warnings: This fic is rated for language and occasional adult content. Familiarity with Hunter x Hunter and its nen concepts are necessary.

Author's Notes: I use the Hunter's Guide spellings for the characters' names (see my bio page for details), and my characters are based on the comic, not the animated series, so Kurapika does not have blue/green eyes in my fics. This fic takes place a few months after Yorkshin and ignores most of the Greed Island storyline and beyond.

Standard disclaimers apply...

Hunt for the Intangible – Chapter 13

Nobunaga fought the urge to swear out loud and fumbled for words instead. "Uh… yeah, you're right. I know the bastard."

The blond waited, manner surprisingly patient. But Nobunaga could definitely sense the kid's tension.

"He, uh… wouldn't leave a friend of mine alone. The bastard can be real persistent. I didn't think he'd give up on you so easily…"

The kid furrowed his brows. "Surely the law has dealt with him for harassing your friend. Wouldn't he have learned his lesson?"

Nobunaga grimaced. "Look, you've met him. And you obviously know about nen. The law won't touch him because he's so damned strong." How it irked Nobunaga to be talking up that bastard's abilities. Although, really, that ass really was just that strong…

"Won't touch him…?"

"Yeah, not a single law enforcement agency, not even after he…" He struggled to get the word out, but the story had to be good and believable, and it had to make the kid agree to be… escorted.

"Not even after he what?" the blond encouraged, but his manner was almost somber.

"He…" Nobunaga could feel his face reddening. "He… you know… took her… uh, took advantage of her… uh, forced her…"

The blond frowned fiercely. "Are you trying to say that he raped her?"

"Uh… yeah," Nobunaga muttered. "More than once," he added for good measure.

The flash of anger wasn't too much of a surprise, but the change following it was. Nobunaga's eyes widened as the kid's eyes flashed crimson for a moment, a very brief moment. Abruptly, the blond squeezed his eyes closed and clutched at his head with both hands, gasping in pain. He wavered on his legs, and Nobunaga had to reluctantly catch him as he fell.

The kid kept one hand on his head, but used the other to clutch the front of Nobunaga's robe. His eyes stayed tightly shut.

Nobunaga eyed the passing crowd, glaring at anyone who stared for too long. This definitely did not look good. How did he end up standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms around the damned brat? Finally, after what was too long a time, the tense figure in his arms relaxed slightly.

"I'm… sorry," the kid rasped. He pushed away and stepped back as Nobunaga released him. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. His eyes were back to their normal hazel color.

"…you okay?"

"I… Yes, I'm okay. Thank you," the blond responded distractedly.

The swordsman gave the kid a doubtful look. Had he even realized what had just happened? Nobunaga decided that it would be best to not mention, in case he hadn't.

The blond visibly pulled himself together. "Thank you," he repeated, more focused. "And for telling me about that man. I appreciate your concern, and I guess I can better understand it now, but I can't have you escorting me to and from work. Surely, you have better things to be doing?"

Nobunaga grinned wryly. Hadn't he just been asking himself that very same question? "Well…" he said, waving his arms absently. "Look, just humor me, kid. Let me do this for a while until I decide that the bastard has given up on you."

The blond frowned slightly. "I'm not happy about it. But I can't stop you if you're going to… insist."

Nobunaga almost laughed as the kid obviously edited himself before saying "going to be stubborn." His next words wiped away all thoughts of laughter, though.

"So you might as well walk with me instead of lurking behind me," the blond smiled resignedly. He gestured with one hand. "Shall we?"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He really was going to kill Syarnorke. And he was going to make a damned good effort at killing Dancho.

Nobunaga reluctantly fell into step beside the much shorter figure, body slouched and turned away from the kid in an attempt to look like they weren't walking together. It didn't help, though, since the brat decided they needed to have a conversation.

"You said your name was Nobunaga, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Do you mind if I ask why you carry a sword?"

Nobunaga glanced at the long, wrapped bundle he carried with him. "Huh? How did you … Oh." Right, he had pulled it out the time he'd stopped that bastard from molesting the kid. "It's… uh… a family heirloom. Belonged to my great, great, great grandfather."

"That's wonderful that you show pride in and respect for your ancestors," the kid said, his smile almost melancholy. He looked up at Nobunaga, his expression becoming sharper. "Clearly, you know how to wield it."

"Uh… yeah, no point in carrying it around if I can't use it."

"Do you make it a habit of hunting down undesirables?"

"What? No, no, I'm not like a… vigilante or something." Actually, he was more likely to be sought by the vigilante type. Like a certain Black List Hunter brat.

The blond nodded slightly, then looked away and down the street once more. Nobunaga sighed, hoping that the conversation was over. None such luck.

"So, what do you do for a living? When you're not escorting book store managers home?" the kid asked, a slight smile on his lips.

Nobunaga's mind drew a brief blank.

Shit!

He skimmed the stores on the other side of the street. There was a candidate. "Plants!" he exclaimed.

"…What?"

Idiot! "I'm a gardener," Nobunaga said.

The smile widened and became more genuine. "That's great! I've been thinking of getting some plants for my apartment. Maybe you could recommend something that would be low maintenance but is still attractive? Preferably not too large?"

…Shit…

To Quwrof's shrewd eye, Curarpikt appeared subdued as he stepped into the apartment, even though he seemed to be trying to hide it. Quwrof watched him from the sofa as the boy smiled in greeting, then moved into the bedroom to shed his coat. He returned a few minutes later, forehead slightly furrowed.

"Headache?" Quwrof inquired.

The blond's steps slowed for a moment. "Yes," he sighed, apparently giving up on his act that everything was fine.

Quwrof stood and followed Curarpikt into the kitchen, pulling dinner out of the bag on the counter as the blond poured himself some water. Curarpikt's nen seemed somewhat erratic.

"Rough day at work?"

The blond started to shake his head, then grimaced. "No, no more than usual. This hit me suddenly on the way home."

"Hm. Don't tell me you're sick again."

"I hope not!" he exclaimed in alarm. He paused, looking as if he had more to say. He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly.

Quwrof regarded the boy thoughtfully. "Curarpikt," he began. He was interrupted as his phone rang. Smiling an apology at the boy, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and stepped out onto the balcony.

"What is it?"

"Dancho," said Nobunaga's voice, "something weird happened. With the kid. You know, when I was… you know."

"Get to the point, Nobunaga."

"Yeah, uh, his eyes turned red."

Quwrof frowned and waited for the other man to elaborate.

"You're not surprised?" Nobunaga sounded disappointed.

"Yes, I am, but I was waiting for details." He also found himself uncertain as to how he felt about it.

"Oh, right. Uh, I'm not sure what caused it, but they turned red suddenly, and then the kid started clutching his head like he was in serious pain."

Quwrof's frown deepened. "You have absolutely no idea what caused it? What was he doing at the time?"

The other man hesitated before saying, "Well, uh, see, I was telling him…"
"Just a moment. You were speaking with him?"

"Hey, it's not my fault the kid sensed me trailing him! You're the one who's been training him and…"

"Never mind," Quwrof snapped. "Just tell me how the conversation with him went."

After some hesitation and additional insistence that it wasn't his fault, Quwrof finally told the other man to put Syarnorke on the phone.

"Yes, Dancho?" The man sounded amused.

"Have you already gotten the story out of Nobunaga?"

"Yes, Dancho."

"Give me the summary, and tell me if damage control is necessary," Quwrof sighed.

Syarnorke chuckled. "We were actually impressed. We didn't know Nobunaga had it in him to be spontaneously creative." An outraged shout erupted in the background. "It doesn't sound like damage control will be necessary."

"That's good to know. Now tell me what happened," Quwrof said, trying to remain patient.

To Syarnorke, though, his irritation was apparent. Stifling another chuckle, the man gave Quwrof the story of Nobunaga's unexpected interaction with the Chain Guy. Hearing Syarnorke's summary, Quwrof was relieved and reassured. It could have gone horribly wrong.

He stepped back into the small apartment and found that Curarpikt had gotten dinner out on the table and was seated there, eyes closed and head leaned against the wall. Quwrof joined him at the table and regarded the boy thoughtfully. Sensing the scrutiny, Curarpikt opened his eyes and returned the man's gaze.

"I wasn't sure if that sauce is supposed to be served heated or not," he murmured, nodding towards a small bowl.

Quwrof's eyes flicked briefly to the bowl before returning to the boy's face. "It's better heated," he responded, but held out a hand when the boy reached for the bowl. "I'll do it. You really don't look so good."

Curarpikt chewed on his lower lip. "I'm okay. It's not so much the headache, but…" he trailed off.

The man stood with bowl in hand. "Whatever it is, you're most likely to feel better if you tell me about it."

"I know," the boy sighed. "And I appreciate your willingness to listen. I was just having trouble processing it myself…"

That was unexpected. Quwrof wouldn't have thought that the boy would be so clearly upset by what Nobunaga had told him, since Nobunaga was certain that Curarpikt had been unaware of what had happened with his eyes. Surely, even an amnesiac, and a surprisingly straight-laced teenage amnesiac, would be aware of the harsher realities of the world. Especially after his encounters with Phynkss… Which meant that there had to be more than just a headache.

"Did you have another unpleasant encounter on your way home?" he asked after several moments of silence, hoping to give the boy a convenient way to ease into his story.

"No, I…" Curarpikt paused and chuckled. "Actually, I saw that man again. The topknot man I told you about. He has apparently decided to be my bodyguard since that man he chased away, the clown man, has a history of assaulting people."

"From what you told me about your encounter with him, I'm going to assume his past 'assaults' have been sexual in nature."

The blond nodded, unable to hide the grimace. "Nobunaga, that's the topknot man, told me that the clown man… raped a friend of his."

Quwrof returned to the table with the heated sauce. "And you're frightened now."

"No," Curarpikt shook his head. "I'm angry. I was furious when he told me. The man is running around free because he's such a strong nen-user. It's not right to use power in that way!"

The boy's eyes did not turn red this time. However, his anger was still easily apparent, radiating off of him in waves, and Quwrof could see how the boy's initial unexpected flash of uncontrolled anger might have triggered the Eyes. And that, in turn, had given him an excruciating headache.

And what else? What had him so distracted? Quwrof had his suspicions.

"No, it's not, but the world isn't made up of only good-intentioned people, Curarpikt."

"I know," the blond said, frustrated. He stabbed at the food he had dished out onto his plate.

"Curarpikt," Quwrof reached across the table and placed a hand on the one the boy had clutched around his fork. "What is bothering you so much?"

"I… I remembered something." Curarpikt finally said and looked up into Quwrof's eyes. His own were haunted. "From before being here in Sonisco."

Which was exactly what he had suspected. And feared. "And?"

"It… it wasn't good. Quwrof, if it was a real memory, I might be exactly what I had been afraid of."

Quwrof felt the first stirrings of mild alarm. "Which is?"

"A… a criminal of some sort. Possibly worse." He chewed on his lower lip. "No, most definitely worse."

"What did you remember?"

Curarpikt looked away and said, "It was more like… I saw images. No sound, though."

Yes, he was definitely beginning to feel slightly alarmed. "What did you see?" he pressed.

"I saw… a man. He was saying something to me… then… he was dead."

It would be bad if he remembered the slaughter of his people. Granted, there was no way that the boy had been there, or he would have died five, or was it six, years ago. But Quwrof was absolutely certain that the boy had seen the aftermath, since that woman had said that Curarpikt had suffered from horrible nightmares. That, and the fact that he had decided to get rid of his worst memories.

"Do you… remember the man?"

"No," the blond shook his head. "But I don't think that we were on good terms."

Which meant that the man was someone the boy had had a conflict with. And who was now dead.

Quwrof lifted a loose fist to his lips and frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

"We fought. That, I'm certain of." Curarpikt let his eyes return to Quwrof's. "It was in a desolate area. Then he was dead. In that same place, which means his death had to have happened during our fight…"

The Ryodan leader lowered his eyes and let himself remember.

Wbererguin.

Quwrof sat on a bench at the edge of the beach and watched the lone figure out near the waves. The blond had refused to give up his nightly walk, even with the knowledge that he might be targeted by "the clown man" again, so Quwrof had insisted on joining him again. He would have accompanied the boy regardless, even in secret if necessary, since Hyskoa was still unaccounted for.

He wanted to be irritated with Nobunaga for letting himself be detected by Curarpikt, but in retrospect, it was a good thing.

Yes, things had just become much more complicated. But then, there had always been variables, and he should have probably considered that the boy's Crimson Eyes would be an unknown as well. This was not something that memory thief could have accounted for when determining his ability. And now, Quwrof had to decide what to do with the possible ramifications.

The glimpses Curarpikt had seen of his past were not ideal. What would happen if he saw Quwrof in those memories? Or the others. Had he, at any time in Yorkshin, seen any of the others?

His eyes widened abruptly. The dead bodies. The body doubles that Colhtophy had created. Curarpikt had been a bodyguard for the Nostrads. Even if Syarnorke had been able to manipulate the information right before Curarpikt had researched the Ryodan and kept him from seeing the photos two days ago, the boy would have most likely seen the actual bodies that night months ago, not just the photos that later appeared on the news and the Net.

Much more complicated…

Rage seemed to be the trigger for the Eyes. Abrupt, unchecked rage. And the Crimson Eyes triggered a return of memories. So it was even more crucial now that Hyskoa not come into contact with the boy another time. There was no telling what Curarpikt would remember next.

They were running out of time. He needed to make a final decision concerning the boy's fate.

Curarpikt stared out at the waves, willing them to bring him the sense of calm they had on other nights. He wondered if he had lived near the sea before all of this. That really did not narrow down the places he could have come from.

And his memory had not taken place near an ocean. It had taken place in a desolate, arid land, on a night much like this, with the moon large and pale in the pitch-black sky.

The memory had been of mere fractions of seconds, flashes that invaded his mind with painful force. They had pounded into his skull and nearly left him gasping on his knees. And they had left him with fear and doubt.

Dust settling from a fast and furious fight.

Warm blood splattering against his cheek.

A face, cocky and fearless, taunting him.

The same face, dead eyes open to the night sky.

What had he done in the past? Who was that man? Had he killed him? How? And for what purpose? Was the man the criminal? Or was he the one?

Why had he chosen to lose his memory?

What was he running from?

Curarpikt let his head drop against his knees and clasped his hands together to keep them from tearing at his hair. Now that he had those bits of memory, he needed to know. He had to know if he had killed a man. But then what? He didn't even know who the man was.

A killer.

Regardless of motive, killing was killing. And what would he do if he learned that his motive for killing had not been selfless at all?

"Curarpikt."

He didn't respond. He wanted to just… walk into the sea and disappear. He didn't know if he was strong enough to learn the truth. Having had these snatches of memory unexpectedly returned to him, he was afraid. Was he going to continue remembering equally horrifying events? His past self had been right when he'd warned himself to not seek the past.

This was not a past he wanted.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he finally looked up, letting his eyes stare out at the waves again.

"You're not going to find any answers like this. Let's go home. There's no point in letting yourself get chilled."

He sighed and let Quwrof take his hand and pull him up. He looked up at the older man, fighting a frown.

"I'm going to have to ask you again, you know."

The man smiled gently. "And I'm going to say the same thing as well. I'm not leaving you, especially when you're being like this."

"Being like…"

"And. You are not a bad person. I still refuse to believe that."

"Quwrof…"

"Stop. There is nothing to be gained by beating yourself up over this. We're going home, I'm drawing you a bath, you're going to take a long soak, then you're going to bed. Things will look better in the morning."

Curarpikt furrowed his brows. "I don't know how you can be so optimistic. The things from my memory…"

"…are not necessarily from your memory at all. There is no proof that what you saw were real events. Now, let's go," Quwrof said firmly.

Curarpikt hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. Quwrof was right about one thing. He would gain nothing by worrying. For now, he would pretend he had seen nothing. If he had more "flashbacks," or whatever they were, and they were again violent, he would try to see then what the images might mean.

Several options were available now. One, keep him from remembering and eventually get him to join the Ryodan. Two, have him join the Ryodan, and if he remembers later, coerce him into staying, with a few convenient reminders of his involvement with the most notorious criminal group on the planet. Three, same as two, but if he remembers, kill him. Four, forget about getting him into the Ryodan and just let Curarpikt remember, then kill him. Five, let Hyskoa have him and eventually kill him. Six, leave Sonisco and forget about Curarpikt… but that wasn't much different from option five. Seven, just kill Curarpikt now, and don't bother trying to get him to remember.

Options One and Two would be interesting, complicated, whatever, with One keeping Ryodan members on their toes the whole time. Option One also meant making certain that Curarpikt was never angered. Options Three through Seven would have some opposition from some Ryodan members.

Because some of them no longer wanted the Chain Guy dead.

Actually, probably more like most of them.

Syarnorke would have killed the boy himself at one point had the opportunity presented itself, since he had been good friends with Wberer, but it would have been more for the principle, and not because of any hatred. He had never hated the boy, and now it seemed impossible that he ever would.

He sighed and let his eyes roam around the room. Matiy was watching some mindless program on TV. She would deny it if asked, but Syarnorke had the feeling that she liked the boy. Curarpikt was so unlike anyone Matiy had spent any length of time with, and Syarnorke would swear that she enjoyed the refreshing change.

Chzzk was reading, as usual. She had very little interest in anything outside of the covers of a book, and it would be the same with Curarpikt. She was mostly indifferent to the whole situation and would agree with whatever decision was reached. But she had seemed to greatly enjoy the book that Curarpikt had given her.

Phynkss and Heytun were out causing discreet mischief, if that were even possible for them, but Syarnorke could tell that the former had taken a liking to Curarpikt as well. Phynkss seemed to find the boy amusing and had a bit of respect for his… spunk. And Heytun, well, he would follow the rules, but he always felt that killing was the best way. After a good dose of torture first, of course.

The members who had returned home would agree to whatever decision was made, especially since they hadn't seemed to have any strong desire to kill the boy in the first place.

Which left the one who did have that strong desire. Strong former desire.

Syarnorke smiled. Nobunaga would come along. He liked strong kids with attitude, and Curarpikt could definitely show attitude. And the man, despite his complaining, had agreed to "protect" the boy from Hyskoa. Whom he definitely still hated with a vengeance. In fact, Nobunaga would probably vehemently disagree with option Five.

Actually, so would Matiy.

Of course, all of this musing was with the assumption that they were not going to kill Curarpikt.

Which was seeming more and more likely the more Syarnorke thought about it.

He looked up as Nobunaga entered the apartment. Syarnorke hadn't even noticed that the man had left. The tall man approached Syarnorke, his manner sheepish. He stopped and looked down. Syarnorke remained seated on the floor but leaned back so he could look into Nobunaga's face.

"What? What is it, Nobunaga?"

"I… need a favor."

Syarnorke grinned up at the other man. "Sure. What do you need?"

The taller man was clearly struggling with his words. "Uh… well, you know, the kid… uh…"

"Yes?" the blond encouraged.

Nobunaga turned away, muttering, "Never mind. …No, uh…" He turned back, fists clenched. "Damnit, how do these things keep…"

"What is it, Nobunaga?" Syarnorke repeated.

The man took a deep breath, then blurted out, "Plants! What do you know about plants?"

Syarnorke stared at him blankly. Some days, he just didn't understand the other Ryodan members at all.