A/N: SD is now being translated in Chinese special thanks to rainquiet-chan on Weibo and Lofter. Please see my profile for the links. Thanks so much!
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN HXH.
BETA READER: NONE.
Chapter 14: A Guilty Sinner.
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The sea breeze was both sharp and cold.
Right outside the dining lounge was a long pathway of the side of the ship. The glass walls proudly displayed a regal view of luxury and mystique as the dazzling chandeliers and draperies matched the silky, dotted dark night, with the shimmering calm waves of the ocean. The bright moon was gleaming on its wake; the deep, gloomy dark sea illuminated its light, with its crates peculiarly more visible that night.
Standing next to the railing with his hands deeply tucked in his pockets, the last Kuruta peacefully settled his eyes on the lovely view (that somewhat reminded him of his lost home), feeling peaceful and nostalgic.
A dinner party was held on the last day of the cruise. An announcement was released about the cancellation of the cruise's last destination and detouring back to the York Shin's coast after the all-out yet futile search and investigation of the auction robbery incident conducted the previous day. It was the Hunter Association who imposed the memo and forced the management to cancel the fifth day of the trip, with a reason that it wasn't safe anymore to continue.
Kurapika turned around to see the framed view of the dancing hall. Pairs of well-suited dancing couples circled round and round all over the dance floor, including his employer, Dmitri, dancing with a pretty lady clad in a glamorous dress. The blond was asked to guard outside the hall, not wanting him to tail around and 'to take a breather, I know you've been stresses out because of all of this.' He looked bemused and delighted with the woman's company, seeing the way how the man smiled. Dmitri looked cool unlike the previous night, after the investigation.
Watching the soundless waltzing of the guests, Kurapika recollected the imposed, compulsory search operation that was posted the night before.
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"I really wonder who that bastard is," Dmitri contemplated as all of the summoned hunters on board flocked around one of the crime scenes: the vault.
The room was thoroughly clean; it couldn't be seen as a nasty execution ground where more than a dozen Mafia bodyguards and three professional hunters died. No blood stains, no traces of the thief or the victims, no shadow of any merchandise that was supposed to be lying inside the safe. Nothing.
"The guards outside the vault were killed without spilling a single drop of blood, no corpse or any kind of lead— we are dealing with a hell of a veteran," the management representative coherently reported.
The management turned out to have conducted a separate search, which had the same fruitless results. Patches of theory of how the burglary was made and who the suspect would be left Kurapika nothing but confounded yet amused at the same time.
A group of powerful nen-users came, presumably sent by the Hunter Association, had a member named Fram that had a strong smelling ability that resembled Gon's.
"We're lucky that this is a closed space, familiar and strong scents remained lingering around even after the days that passed.
"Expectedly, the thief didn't bother retrieving his weapons namely typical, non-poisonous needles because he made sure not to leave any fingerprints on them. That came handy— I don't need any marks to trace him down. As long as he touched the weapon, surely a scent from his clothes or his sweat would remain on them.
"All of the needles shared the same scent; it perfectly matched the strong scent that lingered along blood and death inside the vault. So, yes guys: we are dealing with a single man here. Impressive, isn't it?" Fram gave an amused smile.
"So, this bastard has some bizarre random abilities and we can deduce that he's from Specialization. He can compress big items and bring them around, conduct terrifying tortures— yes, those three assassins died a torturous death— and clean his own mess with a help of a 'vacuum.' It's so clear that our opponent was no ordinary man, and we certainly need some help.
"Let's get down to business, gentlemen, our mission is to catch a powerful nen-user with a fake name 'Kurou Tadano,' that turned out to be a master thief that was known to have died months ago, the leader of the prominent band of thieves called Genei Ryodan. He goes by the name 'Kuroro Lucifer."
"Oh God," Dmitri loudly gasped out; it came audible to everyone inside the lounge. Fram shot an alarmed look at their direction. "Uh… Uhm," Dmitri stuttered, feeling all eyes gazing on him. He cleared his throat. "I'm actually familiar with the name. You see… Meniandro-san and I came to play with him on a poker game last night. Just frigging last night. It was an intense game but we ended after the first round. I didn't see him again after the game. That's it."
Meniandro's eyes flicked in momentary shock upon hearing his name. He shortly smoothed back to his calm mien.
"Really? How does he look like?" Fram asked, looking curious.
"A not so ordinary man you can find anywhere. He's wearing a band on his forehead as if hiding something underneath it. He's a pestering bastard, for one thing: he kept asking us to let him join our game even if it had nothing to do with him. Plain, but suspicious," Meniandro chirped.
"It's my first time meeting him," Dmitri added.
"So did I," Meniandro said.
"So we now have a pair of witnesses, in addition with the shots we got from the CCTV footages. So guys," Fram whipped out a paper with a picture of it. It was a clear photo of Kuroro Lucifer in a suit, his forehead wrapped with a white bandage. "This is the bastard we are looking for. He looked exactly the same on York Shin. Of why did he purposely pop out and blow his own fake corpse's scheme, we never know. For now, our task is to search the entire ship and catch Lucifer, bring him down and give him to the Association dead or alive. He's still on board; it's a safe bet until some hours ago. We have to prevent him from getting away."
Everyone, holding stern expressions on their faces, huffed 'Yes, sir!' and flocked into separate groups. Kurapika with Mitsuhiko didn't join any group but listened to their plans anyway. Wasting no second, they all hastily stepped out of the lounge and spread in different directions.
Before leaving, Kurapika heard Fram talked to Dmitri and Meniandro in a low, grave voice.
"We'll have to ask you some questions regarding that poker game you had with Kuroro Lucifer, sirs. I'm hoping for your cooperation."
Both men nodded cautiously, Dmitri wore a nervous look while Meniandro looked apathetic yet curious.
Kurapika wondered what would happen in case Lucifer was caught and what would Meniandro say to Fram in regards with his speculation about their connection, if ever there was any. Honestly, that bastard didn't realize how great this mess he had made for the sake of his perverted needs. 'No. He knows right from the start the toll he has to pay in order to get what he wants, it's just that he doesn't mind and care."
Kurapika then set off to the search operation which he could somewhat guess what the outcome would be.
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The search, as Kurapika expected, was futile. They already metaphorically turned the cruise upside down, but no Kuroro Lucifer fell. The operation had gone for hours, it was almost six in the morning when everyone realized that it was all too late. However, the day didn't end there for Kurapika, Dmitri and Meniandro.
They were summoned for an interrogation, conducted by Fram and his gang. Kurapika even thought that they would resort to violence in exacting information out of them, but given that Dmitri had nothing to do with Kuroro, he was easily let off. So did Meniandro, for a reason Kurapika couldn't be sure. That damn perverted geezer however, spilled that he presumed that Kuroro was likely interested with Kurapika; that was why he joined the game in the first place. Kurapika confidently countered the allegations with twisted truths: he admitted to them that he participated in the hunt of Genei Ryodan back then at York Shin, that he captured a member named Uvogin who later escaped.
He mentioned nothing about the fake corpses he saw on the auction fiasco. He was careful not to spill hints yet he kept himself perfectly composed and unruffled, which came as a bit of a surprise to him at how fine he had carried it out.
At long last, Fram gave up, believing that he could get no useful information out of the Kuruta. He warned him, though, saying that he was under surveillance and he was a suspect despite the lack of evidence. That came surprising to the blond: they could have gotten a CCTV footage of him going to that utility room and not coming out, as well as when he emerged out of the bastard's VIP room just some hours ago before the search operation commencement. Kuroro saw this coming, and he cleanly made sure that Kurapika wouldn't be dragged by this ruckus to the point where he would lose his profession, but just enough to shake everyone's trust on him.
That had the Kuruta thinking. Not only he learned how to drink and smoke, he now had known to easily twist the truth and lie. It was sick: with all these predicaments, this circle of deceit, violence and madness, Kurapika realized that Kuroro Lucifer just laid a bloody path to sins and transgressions before him.
He truthfully couldn't remember when had taken a step forward, and just found himself sauntering onto the offered way with his guide.
Kurapika made out of the interrogation room miraculously still alive. After all of the tension and suspense, his body reminded him of how exhausted he was.
It must have reflected on his look as Dmitri dismissed him right after the investigation. Kurapika refused at first, saying he was alright and he intended to complete his shift but Dmitri insisted, leaving him no choice but to comply with his boss.
After some hours of shallow sleep, Kurapika swapped shifts with Mitsuhiko and accompanied Dmitri to the evening party.
It was nice of Dmitri to let him stay outside the ball, knowing that the fresh air would help him feel better than the bustle inside the party hall. It was dawned to Kurapika why Dmitri was giving him the special treatment at times. He was his most trusted man, after all.
Truth to tell, he was grateful for it.
He hated that kind of feigned compromise of wealth and hidden greed behind the class and dazzle. He despised it and would rather live as a free wandered than to be bound to such conspicuous image. It was kind of an eyesore sometimes, seeing those people having the time of their lives to think that if it wasn't for them, he still could have had his family alive.
The cold breeze from the vast ocean kissed his cheeks and blew his blond hair, when he heard his name being pronounced by a brusque, familiar voice.
"Kurapika?"
Kurapika instantly recognized who the intruder of his musing was. He turned around and faced him.
"… Basho." Bearded, muscled and still looking formidable, Kurapika easily recognized a former co-worker he worked with back then at York Shin. Basho was a muscular, intimidating man with a peculiar choice of using haiku as Nen weapon.
"Yeah, good to see you again," Basho inched closer to him, wearing his usual vest, showcasing his six pack. He slid both arms over the railing and looked afar, perhaps appreciating the nice view as well.
His eyes lingered for a while. The evening sky must have stirred some thoughts in his mind; he was a poet, after all.
The silence didn't last long, though.
"What's up? Still with Senritsu?"
"Yes, sort of," Kurapika blandly replied.
"Where is she?"
"In York Shin, doing paper works."
"Wow, that's a news. I always supposed you're the type who could go gruel with paper matters all day long with the brain of yours."
Kurapika offered no reply and simply smiled.
"You guys found a new employer?"
Kurapika nodded.
"I got one too, a lot richer than Nostrad."
"I see."
"… Still as serious as ever, huh?"
Kurapika turned around and leaned on the metal railing, eyes falling on the dancing lounge.
Silence distanced the former colleagues, but Kurapika knew well how Basho couldn't endure such awkward silence like this that he would even go speak alone for the sake of a chat.
"Oh, I suddenly remember."
Kurapika swiped a glance at the bearded man.
"You were endorsed to be a second-in-command head in the Council, weren't you? I remember a man mentioning your name. Oh, my boss is a high-ranking member of the Council, you see. I was with him at the latest conference. I reckon that that man who recommended you is your new boss. Lord Lurix… Dmitri, if I'm not mistaken.
Kurapika almost forgot about that. Well, he didn't think about it that much to begin with. He wanted not to give room for that discussion, but when he nodded, he knew he just had done otherwise.
"Hmm, how did it go? Guess you've undergone some tough initiation, huh."
"I didn't accept the post."
"Ehh?"
"I didn't know that I was recommended until my boss told me. It wasn't valid to begin with: I wasn't with Dmitri-san on that conference. I'm not interested, so I refused."
"Huh? But why? That's one hell of a promotion!"
Kurapika looked at Basho again, expecting to see a disbelieving face that would remind him of his close friend, Leorio. Basho wore a 'seriously?' frown, but he didn't look so surprised. It was as if he somewhat expected the answer.
"… Do you fancy having that kind of lifestyle, Basho?" Kurapika blandly asked, beckoning to the dance hall. His voice was low and almost sounding uncaring.
"Of course I do. Who wouldn't? They say you can't buy all the happiness on earth with money, but it will certainly make your life a lot easier, make you feel alive. Tell you what; if I happened to have that brains and guts like yours, I could have gone pretty far, not merely being a bodyguard. So it baffles me why you refused the offer. I remember back then at Nostrad's when you effortlessly covered up for Dalzollene-san. You're a potential leader, you know. You've gained my respect. So, why? Why did you said no to it?"
Eyes resting back to the dark horizon of the night sky and sea, Kurapika felt his gaze softened, the cold breeze tousling his hair. Silence settled between them, Basho was seemingly waiting for an answer (or thinking that he must have touched Kurapika's nerves for prying into his personal matters).
Thanks to Basho stirring up his thoughts he didn't need to remember now, Kurapika found himself wondering.
'Why did he refuse back then?' The recommendation sure had taken him aback, but it didn't cloud his judgment. Even if it did, he could easily ask for time to think about it, or inquire for more details to consider the pros and cons. Why did he decline without thinking twice? It could have been a huge step towards his goals, a substantial advantage move closer to the ground zero. Yet he turned his back on it, without battling an eyelash, with no looking back.
If he agreed on it, he could have had the Community look into Genei Ryodan again. He could have tipped them off about the remaining members and the fake corpses, that Kuroro Lucifer was still alive, and he had all the useful means to catch him. He must have all the upper hands should he have said yes.
But he didn't.
And no matter how many times he tried to imagine it, if he were to be asked with the same question again, he would still give the same answer. He'd still say no. Call it stupidity, arrogance even, but his mind couldn't be changed. He regretted nothing.
As of why, it was simple: he didn't want to go that way.
When he left Rukuso, he was filled with excitement and hope; driven with the thirst to find a cure for his best friend and explore the world outside the village he called home. He wanted nothing to but to get past that borderline of woods and its laws to prove what he could do despite his age, despite limitations and whatever people outside would say about his eyes, and shove it all under the old man's nose once he got back, with Pairo's medicine and his achievements. He could have made them all proud: his parents, his clansmen, the old man, and Pairo. Make a name for the Kuruta clan, and they wouldn't need to hide into the woods anymore.
And then, a new question was born in his mind. 'If he could go back in time and didn't leave Rukuso, if he complied to the rules and waited to reach for the right time and age, if Pairo didn't switch that eye drop and he was doomed to remain into the forest for the rest of his life—if he died along with them, would it be much better?'
'Does he regret going outside and leaving them all behind?'
This had been nagging him for years, from time to time, when longing and rage consumed him. When it was all painful to remember: at times he felt empty, at times he felt so full of everything it hurt and he was dying inside. It hurt to miss them, so instead he patched that pain with hatred; he filled the gaps with resolve to exact vengeance so he could move forward, dragging the pain and wrath along the way.
He hated himself for being so selfish back then, for being an insolent child and stubbornly insisted what he wanted. That came with a price: he was convinced that he was the one who turned his back to Rukuso and the Kuruta clan. But a part of him, a small one, told him that it was him who was left behind. Because it was his decision to go outside.
Did he regret choosing this way? He asked himself, again and again, until the question slowly faded, until he realized that no matter how much he tried to ask, there would be one and only answer.
'No.'
He regretted nothing.
That was how he was so dead set with his objectives. When he wanted to leave Rukuso, he did. When he wanted to be a hunter, he did as well. When he yearned to seek out Genei Ryodan and destroy them, he halfway did, killing two of them and decapitating its head. He wanted not to get involved deeply into the Mafia, he turned his back.
He was willing to go against all odds for the sake of these goals; he believed so, until his friends came. At the end of the day, they turned into his priority. Both goals were set aside to save them.
If someone refused to hand him the eyes and he'd have the ability to kill that person, he wouldn't. He'd try all attempts to take them back harmlessly— haggling, bargaining, threatening, even begging, but he wouldn't hurt and kill them.
That was his difference with Kuroro Lucifer.
He wouldn't manipulate others into his bidding, make them blindly follow his orders, toss them into danger to get what he wanted and let the power get into his head and eat him alive. Sure, he would ask help from others, but using the right way. Being a second in command in the Mafia wouldn't provide him that. It would bring risks of being uncovered as the last survivor of the Kuruta clan. He would be burdened with tasks that might interfere his original goals. He would be forced to lead people he wouldn't want to deal with, be thrown into unnecessary fights, and be obliged to kill should circumstances call for it. He would have to save faces, keep his façade, and it would be harder to move. All in all, he didn't want to dirty his hands more than he already had. He had to draw the line, a line between keeping himself human and turning into a full blown demon.
To Basho's query, he opted to answer.
"I don't see myself in such position. Being a hunter is what I really want, not a Mafia. I don't like to be here, honestly: if it wasn't for a personal conflict, I won't be here. I do want to gain power and grow stronger, but I'm not using that way.
"I don't want to end up like them. I'll be powerful without being ignorant of what the world outside is, without trampling over others. I'll be strong, and I won't let that strength consume me. That won't be easy, of course, but I'll do it no matter what it takes." 'To keep the Kuruta clan's pride and name, to give their everlasting souls the peace they deserve once I get all the eyes, once Genei Ryodan is done for good,' "… I won't let this underworld devour me. I'll fight and win, and retrieve what's rightfully ours."
Silence elapsed between them soon after Kurapika declared his resolve. Seconds later, a hearty chuckle floated.
"… Wow," Basho breathed out as he laughed in awe. "That's utterly the longest statement I've ever heard from you."
Running over his own thoughts, Kurapika was quite surprised with himself for blabbering. He wasn't exactly sure what had gotten into him to say those just to explain something that was considerably easy to answer.
Maybe he was just feeling frisky, bored even, that he suddenly found it manageable to muse over his usually hidden opinions and thoughts, and even had the nerve to share them to this man. It was as though he had learned how to express himself a little bit better ever since that day Kuroro Lucifer tormented him. To open up with Senritsu after that, to deal with the aftershock, and even to actually agree with the transactions that followed. It was like as if he was taking it all easy. Way too easy.
Was it because he had developed an assurance that as long as Kuroro had that sexual attraction towards him, he would get the eyes and eventually would complete all those thirty-six pairs?
'Heh,' he sardonically laughed in mind. How absurd. 'Impossible.'
"…But it's like what I've been expecting; you're a sensible and bold… brat. It's nice to know that there are still young and broad-minded people in this generation. And I don't really wonder why you passed the Hunter Exam on you very first try," Basho quirked up a corner of his lips. "This world needs those kinds of hunters like you."
Kurapika timidly smiled. "Thanks."
Although feeling a little relieved that somehow, after all these misery and hardships he had gone through, some of his dignified principles still remained intact with him, a small part of him still fretted.
It couldn't be helped; he wondered how long his hold on those principles would last.
Kurapika swiped his gaze from the dining lounge and rested them back on the scenery behind. The tone on his eyes softened as they rested at the calm, cold and seemingly endless ocean of darkness.
Silence reigned over once more between the two men, with only the coos of the hovering seagulls soothingly sounding around. A cold, strong breeze came past and blew his hair, causing the red earring on his left ear to appear. It gleamed with the moon's faint ray. Kurapika knew Basho was looking afar as well even without looking at him. He bet the poet was also appreciating the view, immersed with his own thoughts while leaving him on his own device.
Kurapika's mind unintentionally wandered over Kuroro Lucifer and that peculiar conversation they had on the tub.
'The place where he gets his most number of supplies, especially underage kids and teenagers, is Ryuuseigai. My hometown.'
'You're not a toy, Kurapika. So don't turn yourself into one. Think twice before getting yourself involved with that old man.'
'I've let you live and strive, while from time to time we'll have an equal trade. Aren't you relieved? You still have a chance to take me down one day.'
'What… are you really trying to pull, bastard?' Kurapika wondered. 'I find it hard to believe that you're doing all these for your selfish needs. Ryodan is your priority— what exactly is this all about?'
"Beneath the dark night, is a murkier domain, waiting to unveil," after the long moment of stillness, someone finally made a sound. The rhyming words had Kurapika a little confused. He looked at Basho with a small baffled glance. However, he needed only few seconds to register what the man just said.
"…Five, seven, five," Kurapika counted. His lips curved into a half smile. "Nice one."
"Thanks," Basho responded with a grin. "Well, it looks like the party is about to end. Guess I have to go back to my boss," the man turned to step ahead. Taking two strides, he suddenly stopped and said, "It's nice to see you again. Just say hi to Senritsu for me. And yeah, by the way. I just can't help but notice."
Kurapika looked him in the eyes.
"You finally looked like you age."
"Pardon?"
"Yeah. I mean, the first time we met, you had that vibes like a damn, know-it-all, distressed geezer trapped in a teenager's body. But somehow this time around, you looked less tensed. Even frisky… and glowing. In fact, you looked younger than your age. Guess your new employer is easier to handle than Nostrad, eh?"
For a moment, Kurapika was taken aback. He regained composure right after and said, "Yes. Perhaps you can say something like that."
"Well then. See you around, Kurapika."
"You, too. Thanks," as Basho raised a hand goodbye, the blond stared at his back, watching him sauntering away. Unconsciously, he slipped his hands back on the depths of his pants' pockets.
He tore his gaze from him as Basho disappeared to the door. He looked up then, numerous stars twinkled across the length of the clear sky, another whistle of breeze passed by and wafted his locks.
"Glowing, huh."
Now alone, Kurapika contemplations absently bounced back to Kuroro.
He hated to admit, but if it wasn't for him, perhaps he still had no pair of his clan's eyes in possession. Probably he was perturbed about Meniandro. Maybe at the lack of faster means in getting closer to his brethren's eyes, he had accepted the post as the second-in-command head. His thoughts wandered at the ruckus Kuroro had made; the way he messed with these rich and carefree people and looking like he was actually having fun while risking his life on the way. In a point, Kurapika secretly felt a little, just a little, grateful to him for driving the Mafia nuts. Along with the bandit troupes like Genei Ryodan, those people deserved the contempt and repent for their sins because if it wasn't for their senseless desire to get the Kuruta clan's scarlet eyes, his brothers and sisters should still be alive.
It was funny though that in a sense, these dirty workers they hired were the by-products of their own mischiefs. Dose of their own medicine. Ghosts and dark, wicked shadows behind that would keep haunting them for a lifetime.
Kurapika suddenly had the urge to hit himself when for the first time in his life, he oddly was missing Kuroro's intoxicating kiss.
'You still have a chance to take me down one day.'
'Right, I still have a chance— and I'll make a very good use of it. I swear you'll regret that you let me live,' he absentmindedly drew a hand out of his pocket and tipped a fingertip over his lips.
This creepy, erotic play of him and the Spider head seemed to be useful in more ways than one. And no matter how unbelievable it looked, Kurapika was left with no chance to deny that somehow, the game was slowly was relentlessly getting more and more… fun.
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Kuroro let out a loud sneeze.
'Woah, I'm cold?' he mused, brushing his nose with a finger.
He guessed it couldn't be helped. He just teleported from the cruise ship right to the sea then repeated the trick while aimlessly floating on salt water until he luckily found the small island that he was looking for which he searched through the internet before setting to this desperate and unplanned escape route in the middle of the night. To think that he just had a very good time with the boy and now look; he was soaking wet while having a campfire to keep himself warm. He had to admit: this whimsical vacation trip didn't pretty go his way. But what had Kuroro Lucifer puzzled was why this very un-Kuroro Lucifer plan which expectedly failed was okay.
So. He blew his own death scheme, had the Mafia looking out for him again, went into a very, very stupid escape plan and now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere: cold, hungry, and frustrated. For the great Genei Ryodan head to end up like this, it was just funny.
All for a mere Kuruta boy? Seriously?
Kuroro placed another wood to the fire. The flame cracked, cackled and roared hotter. The fish stocked in a stick which would be his dinner for the night seemed well done already, but he was in no mood to eat. He was quite consumed with the eventful hours that passed, and his head majorly occupied with a face of a blond boy with his hair wet and tucked behind his ear, with his scarlet eyes half opened and his features slightly shaken as he—
Alright, he had to stop.
'Tsk,' he really ought to think things over.
He had been thinking over this matter for quite some time, again and again. He knew the risks and he believed he could bear them if the deal would fall strictly only to himself. But with what had happened, he knew for sure that the Mafia had found who he really was, and that he was still alive, and his corpse was fake. They were now certain his comrades' were, too. Of course he knew that could likely happen, and he couldn't help now and he was worried, not for his safety but for the Ryodan's.
He wasn't only talking about the members, not even that the Mafia going hot in pursuit after them again because that was easy to deal with. What had him bothered was what if the members found out that their beloved leader which they knew had his power nullified messed the fake corpses by gatecrashing into a cruise trip and nicking good stuffs on the way? He was supposed to contact them after getting his nen back and bring them the good news of the chain-guy dying on his hands—not to go mess things up and doing stuffs like sleeping with the person he was supposed to get rid of. Really, with what he was doing with his personal life while off-duty as Danchou shouldn't affect his professional affiliations.
Oh, wait. Did he just imply that what he and Kurapika had was personal for him?
Of course it was. Strictly between the two of them, that was what he assured to the kid.
But only if he didn't make this deal with the chain-guy, things could have been easier. More convenient. But one look at those fiery scarlet eyes while lost on pleasure, with his pale skin shivering under his touch, it was enough for Kuroro to lose sense of what he was doing. Hell, it was too late to regret what was done.
Too late to regret, yes—but not to change the plan and go back to the original track.
'Now, how am I supposed do to that if all I have in mind is to get my hands all over him again?' No good, no good. Lust didn't usually get so easily this way to Kuroro. He could handle things and take over. So why was this happening?
'Maybe those red tears do have some spell just like what the legend says.' Really? A spell that could get Kuroro Lucifer hooked up into this situation?
'If that's the case then I should've had done what he assumed: imprison him and use for my own convenience. But I didn't. If I'm drawn to his tears then I should've been hitting him every session, make him cry and see the tears again. But I didn't, not intentionally.'
So, why was this happening to him?
'… Kurapika is interesting in more ways than one.'
A boy who dedicated his life for only two goals: get his clan's eyes and avenging for their death. While on his way he met some couple of friends which he'd learned to care and protect. Now this egotistical little creature had his pride and dignity stained, but for some way there still was a sense of purity in him. Kuroro had cornered him many times, where Kurapika would have no place to run to and be forced to go his way. He had him lost in desire and pain, stung him pride, stirred his dark, hidden side but still—Kurapika had a perfect control over himself. He guessed it would take more than that to make the boy succumb to the darkness.
And that was… exhilarating. Challenging. Kurapika's wall was tougher to destroy that what he had expected.
More funnily, Kuroro could say that he could somewhat see himself in him when he was younger. No, even until now: wise and devoted to what they wanted to fight for. Despite the contrasting traits, they did have quite some things in common: maybe that made their chemistry click.
But did that make this fiasco he made valid?
Of course not. Kuroro hated rules but was willing to comply if it was for the sake of the Troupe. It was unlike him to go chasing after his personal desires this hard because he usually could get them easily and the hardest thing for him to get was his opponents' nen ability.
But Kurapika was different. He had that charm that fascinated Kuroro, plus those pretty fiery eyes, to the point that Kuroro could even admit that he might grow infatuated to him.
And that was bad. Very bad.
For him to go this far just to mess with the boy, he could feel that something was bound to change.
Kuroro was never into unpredictable setups, and it had been a while since the last time he had some fun after the York Shin incident.
'I bet everyone's trying to find me,' Kuroro brooded. He didn't contact his comrades after the Judgment Chain was lifted, and never tried because he was busy dealing with Kurapika. 'Hisoka said he met them at that Greed Island game, so it's safe to assume that they are still looking for me on detours. They still don't know about the chain being removed, so I guess I still have some time to play around.'
Thirty-six scarlet eyes in total, less six pairs which he had given to Kurapika, then the condo unit he had bought as their meeting place, and the amount he spent for him at the cruise. Not only the game was risky; it was exorbitantly expensive. Not that he couldn't afford the expenses. He just couldn't help sometimes why he had to go through that much just for some nightly hour of temporary ecstasy.
He remembered Kurapika's question. 'Why would you go so far as to trade with me, to think that if you just hid me away back then, you can use me again for free?'
'Hmm… I somehow wonder too,' Kuroro brought a hand over his mouth, a subconscious habit of his whenever he was lost in thoughts.
'Back then in York Shin when he kidnapped me, I could accurately tell what his real weakness is and hit it should I'd gotten the chance. I've started hitting it by now, in fact; just that I'm using it for my own benefit.'
'He is smart, though. For many times I've seen him momentarily getting lost of what he wanted to do, clouded by his wrath. But should he have some mastery of his emotion, things can go smoothly his way. Emotions—those are his vital spots. I can see through him, crystal clear, no matter how much he tried to conceal what he truly feels. He's such a brute yet very soft and kind. Smart, yet a fool. Strong, yet fragile inside. And he had it all balanced. He's violent and all, but one thing's sure: Kurapika is a nice person.'
He tried to imagine what if Paku brought everyone back then at the hostage exchange. What if the Troupe threatened to kill those boys in front of him disregarding his killing their leader? What if to scare the hell out of Kurapika, one of those two kids was killed? He could almost perfectly picture it: Kurapika would be so disoriented to insanity. He would try so hard to save the other and avenge the dead kid. Kuroro would likely be the least of his concern, and that would the great chink in his armor, a big chance to finish the chain-guy off. Easy and clean.
Yet it didn't. Paku was the disoriented one who let her emotions win over, and that resulted to this complete failure
Oh, no. Not necessarily complete.
So why was he messing with the blond again?
'I… just want to. That's it.'
If they just headed back to the town and avoided what the prophecy had told, things wouldn't go this disarray. He was warned by the prophecy, yet the turn of events ended up going that way anyway. But that didn't mean that everything was out of his control anymore. Not every detail was unveiled. This thing he and Kurapika had included. A short coffee break after a long day of work… that was it.
Meaning, what he was doing wouldn't majorly change the future, and even if it did, it would be just a small difference.
'Hmp.' Small difference, his ass.
'Well, nothing good will come even if I lament over the wrong decision I made.'
He languidly laid down the dry, slightly grassy ground and crossed his arms behind his head. His eyes rested up the sky and watched the stars winked at him. The cold air of the night blew several leaves and chilled his skin.
He absently brought his hand on his neck, just under his chin and touched a dully painful spot there. He could remember the way Kurapika nipped and suckled that spot; he saw mark it left from his brief look on the mirror in his cabin.
Really, he was having too much fun for his own good.
He wondered what Kurapika was doing at this moment. Maybe he was still on duty searching the entire ship for him. Maybe he was taking a shower and remembering what they did the previous night. Maybe he was asleep and having nightmares of them doing it. Instinctively, a very, very strange feeling of being thought about occurred to him. Like he could certainly tell that Kurapika was thinking about him too, as much as he was thinking about the Kuruta at the precise moment. It was weird, though he didn't dislike it.
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P.S.
... As much as I don't want to waste your precious time reading my notes, upon re-editing the previous chapters as I counter post this fanfiction on my AO3 account, I've noticed that having NO notes just to make me sound like I've grown older and mature or something is cold and sad. It's not very like me, so please consider this as a payment for the time and money I spent to keep working. Let me blabber shit here.
I've had writer's block, for numerous times, and once I even thought that I've finally had enough of KuroKura, around that time when Togashi had his hibernation again. As you noticed, I've written something for my new fandom, Assassination Classroom (Gakushuu AsanoXKarma Akabane. Anyone?) and it's fun over there. There wasn't much fics unlike KuroKura and other mainstream pairs of AssClass, but a number of those works stirred something in me. I'm actually working on three fics for them at a time. Lol. Meaning this update is not in order.
Work is stressful, especially nowadays. I barely have time to write, watch and read stuffs. Moreover, after coming across some good and well written works both in KuroKura and Karushuu fandom, I sudden found myself growing insecure with my writing ability. While re-reading this fic's previous chapters, I can't help but think. I've been working on this for like what, 3 years already? Yet still, I can find no improvement with it. Grammar sucks as ever, ideas naive as hell. I re-wrote this chapter 3 times, you know? Because I'm not satisfied. Because I feel something is off. Then I started to think that I must be slacking off, because I didn't study much. I can't review English because I lack time. I ended up not working because I hate my grammar.
Until something came up: a simple PM from a reader. She's a nice fellow who is having the same difficulty as me in English. Judging by her message, it must be really hard for her to speak the language. YET SHE TRIED. She reached out a hand and said things that made my heart flutter with words that wouldn't make sense at first read. I breathed in awe when she told me she had to Google Translate all those 13 chapters, those 60k words, only to understand 60% of it. She goes that far for KuroKura. For Still Doll.
I realized something, then. When I first posted my first chapter, the reviews and views had become the main source of my happiness. Now, whenever I look at the latest chapter halfway undone at home, it leaves me a sense of dissatisfaction. It became a source of my stress. And that's wrong.
Her message reminded me of why I'm working for this right from the beginning: I'm supposed to have fun, not be filled with insecurities just because someone else writes better than me, that my English never got better, that their depiction of my characters are better and more canon than mine. It's not about that: it's about being happy whenever I post and pour my thoughts and heart. I guess I've been comparing myself to others too much lately and lost confidence. So I posted this despite still feeling a little hesitant for my inevitable naivety.
Thank you so much for the words of encouragement from my dearest friends. To Madam Pervieotome on FB for listening to my rants, for MJ (though I'm not sure if she's reading this. Maybe not.) for the enlightening descriptions of Kuroro's POV (our thoughts contrasts but that's okay) and for the reviews.
Lastly, thank you very much, YaChing-san, for the message. It touched my heart. I'm sorry if I couldn't reply on your PM. This chapter is for you.
Lovelots, Kusari.