Title : Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken

Author : lynlyn

Yahoo ID and email : cloud121383

Warnings : The main pairing here is Kuroro / Kurapika (slash, shonen-ai, yaoi, whatever it is you call m/m relationships) and if you don't like, then don't read! But I'll try to focus as much as possible on the plot and character development, and the rating probably won't go any higher than light snogging. Ah, by the way, some knowledge of the HxH world is required, and this fic takes up right after Kuroro's caught by Kurapika in the hotel.

Summary : It's human nature – you can't spend time with a person and not get used to his presence, his voice, his touch. Add in routine, a vow of aid, and bounty hunter attacks once every other day, and even the most resentful of enemies will find himself succumbing to your charms.

Rating : PG-13 for adult themes and some swearing.

Disclaimer : I do not own Hunter X Hunter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm a jobless college graduate.

A/N : Or, the space I should always dedicate for my lovely beta-readers. Yukitsu had to put up with me poking her incessantly on Yahoo Messenger, and Mistress took time away from her real life to help me get rid of all the nasty plot inconsistencies. This chapter wouldn't have been as nice if not for their efforts.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

WILD HEARTS CAN'T BE BROKEN
Chapter 21 – The Natural Order of Things

It was a testament to his growing self-restraint that, a week after they started their journey to Shooting Star City, Kurapika didn't react when he found himself realizing all over again just how normal everything was between him and the Geneiryodan leader.

He didn't flinch. He didn't stiffen up and pull away from the warm pressure of Kuroro's hands on his back. He didn't even frown when the errant thought bubbled its way through the haze of the trance he always seemed to fall into whenever they started with their "sessions" – which was the only word he could come up with to describe what they were doing.

He supposed that he could call them treatments, but their… roles, their positions, felt far too intimate to be anything as clinical as the relationship between a physician and his patient. At least, half of him hoped that Kuroro wasn't regarding him as an experimental subject, as something that could quite easily be disposed of once the experiment was finished.

The other half hoped that he did, because otherwise Kurapika would have to start wondering, again, why Kuroro was helping him so willingly, and they'd already gone over that a week ago. Kurapika kept getting this feeling that if he did bring up the question once more, the answer might not be as clearly defined as the last time, and it could be something that wouldn't sit well with his current frame of mind.

At any other time the confused state of his emotions would have sent him into a dark mood, but at the moment he was busy following Kuroro's instructions, maintaining a tenuous hold on that strange ten-like state the man had described. It required his full focus, and he couldn't afford to be distracted, not if he wanted his nen back as soon as possible. Kurapika hated the feeling of being defenseless, being dependent on another person for his survival, and he often found himself wondering if there wasn't a faster way than all this plodding along. Maybe he should have suggested that they seek out his nen instructor – surely the man, being a qualified Hunter, would know a better way to fix his nen?

But Kuroro's procedure was working surprisingly well – however slow it was. Already Kurapika could access some of the energy that he could previously feel but couldn't touch, and he could probably already use part of his abilities, but Kuroro insisted that he wait until the entirety of it was freed.

A week, Kuroro said. A week more and his nen would be completely unsealed. A week more until they reach their destination, until Kurapika could start looking for answers to his newest batch of questions.

"Almost done," Kuroro murmured behind him, and Kurapika unconsciously braced himself, slightly clenched hands the only outward indication that he was preparing for anything. A second later Kuroro pushed one last, massive surge of nen into him, through him, washing over him like the pulse of life itself. It lasted for all of a heartbeat but left effects that went on for more than a minute. Kuroro withdrew, quietly getting up from the bed, but Kurapika stayed still as he took deep, controlled breaths. For all appearances he looked like he was still caught up in his meditative trance, but in truth he was maintaining his stillness as a control mechanism.

The effects of having the other man's nen in his system were – to put it bluntly – pleasant. Far too pleasant. Almost like a drug-induced high. If he didn't control himself he might just do something embarrassing. Kurapika doubted that Kuroro knew what the exact side effects were, outside of the all-important end result of his nen being unsealed; the Geneiryodan leader might have theories, or a vague idea of the potential havoc that his nen could cause on his companion's behavior, but they would remain theories as long as Kurapika restrained himself during the time it took for the buzzing in his ears to fade.

The last thing that he wanted to happen right now was for Kuroro Lucifer to find out that his nen was giving Kurapika some really crazy ideas. Like an urge to leap up and warble tunes he'd heard from the car radio like a love-sick drunk.

Love-sick… Kurapika's thoughts stumbled on the unfamiliar word, and one tiny giggle escaped his faltering control. He immediately clapped his hands over his mouth.

Kuroro was looking at him oddly. "Did you just –"

"No, I didn't," Kurapika muttered.

"But I could swear –"

"You didn't hear anything," Kurapika repeated firmly. He snatched his shirt up and put it back on, then unfolded his legs and flopped into a proper sleeping position. The buzzing was stopping, and the usual weariness was setting in, and maybe Kuroro would forget about that girlish giggle come morning…

Exactly eight hours later Kurapika opened his eyes to find Kuroro peering out the window through a narrow slit in the curtains. His eyes were alert, watchful, and Kurapika knew that it wouldn't be appropriate to remark that the man looked like a peeping tom.

"Is something wrong?"

"More hunters," Kuroro replied without turning away from the window.

"I don't sense anything."

"They're normal people. As far as I can tell, at least."

Kurapika frowned. "And you didn't wake me up as soon as you spotted them because?"

This time Kuroro looked at him, the amused light in his eyes and curved lips already well in place. "You needed your sleep. I didn't want you to be grumpy the entire day because you didn't get enough of it. In any case, this group seems different from all the others." The dark-haired man paused and tilted his head in thought. "It's strange, actually. Instead of attacking us immediately, they split into two and checked into the units beside ours… Huh. Bounty hunters who think first before shooting. I think they're getting smarter."

Kurapika quietly got up and moved to Kuroro's side. "How can you be sure that they're bounty hunters if they're not nen users?"

"There's the huge army-issue truck that they came rattling up in. And the hand signals they gave each other as they were splitting up were taken straight out of a commando handbook. The rifles slung over shoulders and the handgun butts peeking out of belt holsters also gave them away. Is that enough or do I have to describe what they were wearing, too?" Kuroro asked archly.

"It's enough, thank you," Kurapika replied as he rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "But are you really sure?" he asked doggedly, not quite ready to relent just yet. "I mean, that sounds more military than bounty hunter. Maybe they're looking for someone else."

"You can never be too paranoid if you have an assigned bounty," Kuroro parroted, as if quoting from a guidebook for class-S bounties. He stopped short, perhaps realizing how stern he may have sounded, then continued speaking in a milder tone. "There are groups like that – they have no nen ability, but they compensate by using high-tech weaponry, and by organizing themselves like a military unit. It places them on equal ground with the lower-ranked bounties."

"Oh."

"Tell you what – we could just leave instead of confronting them. If they don't react when we leave the unit, then it means you're right."

The suggestion made sense. But then, they were being forced to move yet again because of the possibility of an attack. The thought made Kurapika feel a bit mulish. He felt like it had been years since he was last able to just relax and not have to worry about anything. Nevertheless, he couldn't let his irritation get in the way. They had to be ready for anything.

"And if I'm wrong?" he asked with just the smallest bit of effort. Necessary or not, even the thought of having to admit that Kuroro's paranoia was justified rankled.

"Then we run faster," Kuroro answered simply. "I doubt that they'll be able to catch up, even if they were able to bring that monster of a truck out quickly enough to follow us."

It was much too simple for a contingency plan; Kuroro was counting on their ability to react the moment it seemed likely that they were going to be attacked, and perhaps rightly so – both of them were capable of moving faster than any normal human. Kurapika just wished that he didn't have to rely on someone who was apparently so experienced at this cat-and-mouse game that he didn't feel the need to come up with a more thorough plan.

"I don't think they'll be moving just yet. You have a few minutes to get ready," Kuroro informed him.

Kurapika ducked into the bathroom to relieve himself, then hurriedly brushed his teeth and washed his face. He finished in just a couple of minutes, and got out to see Kuroro still standing patiently by the window. "How are we going to do this?" he asked as he stepped closer to the door.

"Just get into the car. I'll drive."

"You mean just walk out and get in and drive away? Do you really think that they'll let us do that without resistance – if they really are after us?"

"Trust me," the man said confidently. "We have a few seconds at the very least. We'll be pulling away before they can even begin to shoot at us."

There was something wrong with that declaration, but as always Kurapika could only obey. It was a good thing that Kuroro had suggested that they leave the few sets of clothes they now owned in the trunk of the car – and even better that they'd already paid for the room in full. There was nothing that could hold them back… except maybe that infernal vehicle. Kurapika tried to calm himself, but his heart was already pounding, the adrenaline rush unavoidable in the possibility of another chase.

Kuroro took hold of the doorknob. Kurapika nodded tersely to show that he was ready, and the older man gave an answering, encouraging nod.

"Now," Kuroro whispered, and pushed open the door, and then they were out into the parking lot in speeds just slightly below their average. For a second it seemed like nobody would be coming after them, but then shouting erupted behind them, and Kurapika chanced a glance back to see doors being flung open and black-clad figures pointing and rushing out of the rooms beside the one they had just vacated. Kuroro's scenario thus verified, they hastened their pace; the older man already had the keys in one hand, and their car's alarm chirped as he disengaged the electronic lock. Glass shattered; one of the hunters had broken a window, and was raising an arm – Kurapika's eyes widened when he realized that the hunter was aiming at him. He yanked open the passenger-side door and scrambled in. A second later something thunked into the leather padding of the door, exactly where he had been standing mere moments before. More objects pinged off the back of the car.

"Close the door!" Kuroro yelled. He already had a foot on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward with a single impatient growl. The open door swung on its hinges, and Kurapika reached out to try to catch the armrest – only to jerk it back as another projectile sunk itself into the leather. Kuroro couldn't wait any longer; the first of the hunters had reached the back of the car and was angling around for an accurate shot at Kurapika through the open door. He stepped down on the gas, and the car shot forward, up the ramp out of the parking lot and onto the main road. The momentum slapped the door against the body of the car, and Kurapika – with a bit of effort because he had to struggle not to get thrown out of his seat by Kuroro's crazy driving – finally managed to get it closed and locked.

He looked back to see their pursuers already diminishing into the distance, black stick figures swarming onto the main road and blocking the early morning traffic.

Kuroro was laughing breathlessly, eyes bright with delight and child-like exhilaration. Kurapika shook his head.

"You actually enjoy getting chased like this."

It wasn't a question, because it was pointless to ask. In reply Kuroro raised an eyebrow and challengingly told him, "Tell me that you don't, even if it's just a little bit."

And the teen found that he couldn't answer that, not without lying. The adrenaline was winding down, forcing him to slump back in his seat and breathe deeply, but along with the sudden tiredness he was surprised to feel something similar to the fulfillment he'd only ever felt after successfully completing particularly difficult physical exercises. He exhaled loudly, not sure that he wanted to explore the unnerving sensation any further, and turned to look at what the hunters had been shooting at them.

Two small objects were sticking out of the leather padding, bullet-like in shape, but tufted with synthetic black feathers at the tail end. Kurapika gingerly pulled one out and examined the needle tip in the morning light.

"Tranquilizer darts?"

Kuroro nodded. "Well, we are worth more alive than dead," he said lightly.

Kurapika resisted the urge to smack his companion. The flippant tone really wasn't helping.

"Throw those out the window. You don't want to prick yourself accidentally on those tips."

Kuroro had slowed down a bit after seeing that nobody was coming after them, but they were still tearing down the highway at breakneck speed, and when Kurapika pressed the switch to open the window, wind rushed into the car and ruffled his untied, still-wet hair into disarray. He quickly pulled the second dart out and flicked both out of the window.

A thought struck him as he was closing the window.

"Did you know that they'd be shooting darts at us?" Kurapika asked Kuroro. "Is that why you were so sure that we'd get away safely?"

"Partly," the man admitted. "I knew that they weren't thinking of killing us outright, because if that was the case they would have taken advantage of their position, sandwiched us by splitting into two, then fired into our room, but instead they tried to be subtle. They clearly knew that we were staying there, so it doesn't make sense that they didn't attack at once, unless they were planning on taking us alive. Maybe they thought that they could take their time aiming while we were walking out of our room. It's too bad for them that I was already awake when they arrived."

The line of reasoning was sound, but… Kurapika pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. "What would you have done if either of us had been hit?"

The older man gave him a lopsided grin. "Were you worried for me?" he asked teasingly.

Kurapika reddened. "No, I meant –"

"I wouldn't have left you behind if you had been hit," Kuroro reassured, smoothly interrupting Kurapika's spluttered denial. "And even if I hadn't been using ten, none of the darts would have hit me. I was moving fast enough."

The blond briefly considered seizing the chance to pick at the older man's confident mask – he'd just avoided answering the question directly, after all – but found that he wasn't in the mood to try to deal with Kuroro's method of leading him on with diversions. It frustrated him, that even though he knew he was being maneuvered around like a puppy on a leash he still couldn't do anything about it.

It was also damned tiring.

"What's wrong?" Kuroro asked when Kurapika sighed again and reclined more fully. "Don't tell me all that excitement tired you out."

Kurapika opened his eyes and glared blearily at his companion's concerned face. "Unlike you, I don't get off on being hunted like an animal. If we're lucky, that group back there won't catch up to us until tomorrow." He paused. "Or this afternoon," he added. "So in the meantime I'd like to try to compose myself so I won't get spooked the next time I find people trying to drug me."

The Geneiryodan head gave a slightly startled, bemused blink, and Kurapika closed his eyes and began with his breathing exercises, but a couple of minutes passed, then a few more, of him simply breathing and failing to find that meditative state that he was relying on more and more often. Normally he managed it quickly, because it was the closest he could get to accessing his nen in its present sealed state, but now there was something stopping his thoughts from sinking into tranquility, something like a wayward breeze that wouldn't let fallen leaves settle into their neat piles.

He found the cause easily. Kuroro's teasing annoyed him, sure, but the man had been concerned for him. Kurapika heard the sincerity in his voice. And he'd answered that concern with caustic wit, with a waspish tone that had felt like his only defense at the time. But Kuroro's bemusement had showed something that Kurapika didn't think he would have spotted if they hadn't been traveling together – a very quick flash, swept away as swiftly as it had appeared, of an emotion that looked remarkably like discomfort.

Maybe it was the animal comment. He honestly didn't think that Kuroro would be affected by it – surely the man must have heard worse insults over the course of his nefarious career.

Kurapika opened his eyes and looked at Kuroro's profile. He was holding the steering wheel loosely, back straight and eyes facing forward. His face was serene, and it seemed that he'd already recovered from their quick run. He looked just like any other ordinary motorist out for a relaxing drive.

"Tell me if you're feeling tired," Kurapika found himself saying.

Kuroro half-turned toward him. He looked surprised that Kurapika had spoken.

"So I can take over," Kurapika added self-consciously when it looked like the older man wasn't going to say anything, while inwardly he berated himself for his growing tendency to second-guess everything Kuroro did. He should have kept his mouth shut – it didn't seem as if the Geneiryodan head had taken the comment to heart, after all.

But then Kuroro smiled and nodded, and Kurapika was suddenly struck by how innocent he looked. There was nothing remarkable behind that smile – no ulterior motives, no mixed messages, nothing special other than the fact that it was straightforward and clear-cut, and showed how happy Kuroro was at hearing Kurapika's offer. It couldn't be fake; Kurapika knew very well what false smiles looked like, having had more than enough practice getting other people to believe that he didn't have dark secrets and a priceless heritage to take care of.

It made him wonder why. He'd still have suggested that they take turns even if he hadn't been trying to make his companion feel better; it wouldn't be fair to expect Kuroro to drive the entire day when he was perfectly capable of taking over. So why was the man being so openly happy with something so simple?

Kurapika blinked, and nearly swore out aloud. He was doing it again – trying to second-guess Kuroro's actions and the motives behind them. It would be impossible for him to still his thoughts now. He sighed and looked out the window. Might as well find something to distract himself with, if he was going to be too awake and too aware and too irritated with himself to do anything mentally productive.

-- -- -- -- --

The different feel of the car's rubber tires hitting something else other than asphalt jogged Kurapika out of a pleasant daydream of what his friends might be doing at that very moment. Kuroro was driving them across a short stretch of gravel, lined on one side by what looked to be offices, and bordered on the other by an expansive area paved with more asphalt. Beyond that, Kurapika could see warehouses bustling with workers, containers stacked six deep beside cranes and other dockside machinery, and the bulk of a massive ship anchored along the first quay.

He sat up and looked at the dashboard clock. Kuroro had been driving for two hours, taking them deeper into the city to come out on the other side. They had reached the eastern edge of the Yorubian continent, and the blue waters of what could only be the edge of the Atalantean Ocean sparkled in the mid-morning sunlight.

Kuroro parked in front of one of the offices, and with brisk motions tugged at his clothes and hand-combed his hair into order. Kurapika didn't see why he needed to – even with wrinkled clothes and tousled hair the man looked and acted like some rich celebrity's bastard son. The Geneiryodan leader felt his quiet scrutiny and turned to him with an eyebrow lifted. "You know, I wouldn't have to do all this if I weren't so careful about not upsetting your sensibilities about the legality of our activities," he said, perhaps a bit defensively.

Kurapika couldn't react immediately; he was too busy trying to decide whether he should be getting indignant because Kuroro was blaming him for something that he would have done anyway, bewildered that Kuroro had read the line of his thinking so easily, amused that Kuroro felt the need to justify his grooming habits, or surprised at the confirmation that Kuroro actually cared what he thought of his decisions, enough that he was willing to act less of a criminal. He decided to go for the more positive emotions and turned away to hide his grin as he tied his own hair and pulled at his own rumpled clothes. It was obvious that his companion wanted them to look presentable – for what, Kurapika was only beginning to guess.

"Do you have your Hunter license card?" Kuroro asked him as they got out of the car.

"Yes."

"Good. Have it ready. Normally they don't take reservations this close to the departure date, but I'm counting on your status to get us through normal procedures…"

"What –" Kurapika cut off his question as they entered one of the office blocks – the place had answered it for him. It was a ticketing office for oceangoing trips, complete with agents manning several booths, posters advertising cruises and travel packages, and even an electronic announcement board that displayed the status of several voyages.

"We're going by sea?" he murmured.

Kuroro nodded without saying anything. His dark eyes were scanning the booths, presumably searching for whatever quality in a travel agent that would pass for discrete and efficient in his book.

"Why aren't we going by air?" Kurapika pressed.

"I get airsick easily," Kuroro deadpanned.

The idea that the Geneiryodan leader would have so mundane a weakness as airsickness was so ridiculous that Kurapika almost wondered if the man was joking. "No, seriously. An airship would be faster, especially if we're crossing the Atalantean."

"But there's less room to maneuver on an airship if anything goes wrong," Kuroro pointed out quietly so that only Kurapika could hear. "And I for one don't want to have to fight in a metal blimp being held aloft thousands of feet above the ground by only half a dozen rotors."

Kurapika cocked his head. "Are you afraid of flying?" he asked curiously.

"Not afraid," Kuroro replied stiffly. "I just have a healthy amount of respect for something that looks like it shouldn't be able to do what it's been built to do."

The blond decided then and there that he liked being on the teasing end for once – Kuroro was reminding him of a cat haughtily trying to salvage its dignity after it'd been spooked by a good squirt of ice-cold water. But then, his concerns were reasonable; Kurapika could just imagine what it would feel like for someone like Kuroro – who preferred to have full control of any situation – to have to depend on a pilot he didn't know and a machine he didn't exactly trust. Unless he hijacked the airship or flew it himself, he had no control over it and its flight route, and if someone attacked him, he wouldn't be able to fight all-out in the gondola for fear of damaging the airship.

But that bit about getting airsick… if it was real, did the other Ryodan know about it?

While Kurapika was happily imagining how Nobunaga would react to the revelation, Kuroro had chosen his ticketing booth. He led the way to the booth and bestowed the clerk standing behind it with a charming smile, causing the lady to blush and stammer a welcome. Kurapika had to turn away again so neither Kuroro nor the agent could see him rolling his eyes – and the action gave him an excuse to fall back a couple of steps. He was content to let his dark-haired caretaker – guard? Guardian? He wasn't sure anymore – handle their travel plans, and he didn't like watching Kuroro flirt with complete strangers. It felt dishonest to him, the way the older man could so easily toy with another person's feelings just to get something he wanted.

He flipped through a company brochure and listened as Kuroro booked their tickets and made arrangements to bring their car along as "extra luggage". The ticketing agent balked at first when Kuroro made his requests – it seemed that trips had to be booked weeks before the departure date, just as Kuroro had told him. That was another reason why Kurapika preferred airships to boats, other than the fact that airships were faster – he could get a seat on a flight on short notice more easily than on boats.

But then Kuroro told him to take out his license card, and the question of whether they could purchase a reservation on the very same day of the ship's departure became a moot issue. Kurapika watched in silent astonishment as the lady behind the counter all but fell over her feet trying to ring up their transaction in as short a time as possible – she didn't even give Kuroro's passport (most likely fake again, just like the "legit" account he was using to pay for the purchase) more than a cursory glance after seeing Kurapika's Hunter card. They were done in only a few minutes, which had to be highly irregular. Normal passengers would have to deal with all sorts of inconveniences when it came to intercontinental trips, like travel documents and insurance policies, and other identification issues that the more picky countries required from travelers. And his little square of hard plastic had just blown through all those inconveniences like buckshot through paper.

"What was that all about?" he asked as they exited the office.

"What do you mean?"

"Her reaction… seemed a bit extreme," Kurapika carefully replied. "It was like we'd held a gun to her head."

Kuroro was tucking their tickets into one of his coat pockets. He tilted his head and regarded Kurapika's bemusement with slight surprise. "I don't think you're fully aware of just how much power your Hunter license card has."

Kurapika flushed – that statement all but implied that he was ignorant of his own privileges. "I am aware," he protested. "I've just never tried using it in this capacity before."

"Oh, right. You've only ever used it to get information and free transportation, and access to first class cabins on trains and airships."

"I would have used it to get an extended visa when we were going to Padokia, but Gon refused to use his until he'd settled his issues with Hisoka," Kurapika muttered. He didn't want to sound like he was complaining about Gon's decision at that time, but he disliked being reminded of the reason why it always felt like Kuroro knew him better than he knew himself – that Pakunoda had freely given his memories to the Ryodan like someone handing out information flyers.

"But other than that, you've never thought about using it to get through red tape," Kuroro pointed out.

Kurapika shook his head. "I've never had any cause to do so."

"And you've never tried to use it to get away with something illegal, have you? Even if it's just to test its limits?" the Geneiryodan leader asked with an indulgent smile.

"No. And I wouldn't have to go out of my way to break the law just to try it out now that you're here to do it for me," the blond added in as flat a tone as he could manage.

Kuroro's knowing smile turned into a teasing grin. "I promise that I won't let you down," he said impishly.

"You look like you'd enjoy milking all the benefits that a Hunter ID card has to offer. So why haven't you gotten one for yourself yet?" Kurapika asked, exasperation momentarily set aside as he remembered something in his conversations with a few of the other Ryodan. "Shalnark told me that he's already tried to persuade you to take the exams several times, and you always refused."

"It's just too much of a hassle." Kuroro paused, and pursed his lips as he dredged up what were obviously answers that he'd already repeated several times in the past. "Shalnark's told us about the qualifications, and it doesn't sound fun, taking an exam that I'm overqualified for. And I don't really need the certification to get by."

Kurapika thought for a bit, wondering what would happen if he mentioned a certain someone's name.

"Hisoka didn't need it," he cautiously pointed out. "I think he got it because it'd let him get away with anything. I would have thought that you would want to do the same."

The sharp look Kuroro gave him for that statement made Kurapika worry for a second that the man was going to get angry, but the expression disappeared as Kuroro grimaced.

"I wish you wouldn't compare me with that clown," he said plaintively. "He's a pervert with too much free time on his hands."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound that way."

Silence descended as they both realized that their conversation had become quite strange. Kuroro was probably unused to hearing Kurapika apologize so quickly and so candidly, and Kurapika was only just starting to sense that Kuroro was feeling a bit out of sorts – he seemed more talkative than usual.

It couldn't be because he was unconsciously getting anxious about their trip, could it…?

Kurapika coughed and remembered what he had been thinking before they got into their discussion about his Hunter license card. "If there's a pharmacy nearby I might be able to find ginger candy for you," he said awkwardly.

Kuroro looked at him blankly, probably confused by the sudden change in topic.

"Ginger candy," the blond repeated. "Ginger has been proven to alleviate motion sickness."

"Oh. Thank you, but I don't get sick as easily if it's on an ocean liner. It's massive and stable and won't rock noticeably. It won't be a problem," Kuroro said warily, as if he wasn't sure what to make of Kurapika's concern for his well-being.

Cute, Kurapika thought. It was almost like the older man was afraid that he'd try to get back at him for all the times that Kuroro had fun at his expense. Turnabout being fair play was a common phrase, after all, and from what he'd heard, people from Shooting Star held that particular maxim in high regard, next to the one about eyes and teeth.

"How long will it take us to get to the Aijean?" Kurapika asked offhandedly, again changing the topic for Kuroro's sake.

"Three days," the Geneiryodan head replied. If he knew what Kurapika was thinking – like he always seemed to be – he didn't show it. "From here to New Port is actually only the first leg of the cruise. I managed to book just that."

"So I've heard," the blond said wryly. He'd been listening, after all, as Kuroro spun a tale about how they were planning on making their own way once they got off at the first port of call, and the ticketing agent had believed it easily. "What time are we leaving?"

"In three hours. Do you want to get breakfast first?"

--- end of chapter twenty-one ---

Additional notes:

I'd planned on doing another double post like the last time – I wrote one really long chapter that needed to be cut into two again, but I ran into a few problems with my writing. This first part's okay now, but chapter 22 is still in the middle of a massive overhaul. I'll try to finish revising it as soon as possible, but it'll take at least another week. Or more, depending on whether or not I'm able to bring it up to the standard I've come to expect from my own writing.

Atalantean is yet another invention of mine – it's a play on our own Atlantic Ocean. With such a screwed-up world map and very few of the continents and countries named, we HxH authors have to resort to coming up with our own names if we want our characters to get anywhere specific. Of course, I'll change my invented names accordingly if Togashi comes up with an official atlas.

Oh, I went through my previous chapters and replaced all instances of "blonde" with "blond" – which is really the correct term for fair-haired males. Those of you who've followed my writing from the start might know that Twig's A Long Hard Road heavily influenced my early writing style. She used "blonde" to refer to Cloud, and I got so used to seeing it being employed in that way, that I felt strange using the one without the "e". It's grammatically incorrect, if we want to be really strict about it, but it's one of those little things that we as readers tend to overlook. I guess it's only now that I've managed to wean myself from that influence, and I didn't want to start using "blond" to refer to Kurapika in the new chapters without editing the old ones, too. This won't be the last time that I'll repost my earlier chapters, as this fic is an ongoing labor of love, (I also have vague plans of completely rewriting my earlier chapters, because I can't read them now without wincing at how immature my writing style still sounded back then) but I'll indicate in new posts if I've gone back and did any major changes.

When I started writing this fic I never expected that I'd reach a hundred reviews… and now I have more than 560. I really can't thank everyone enough. To tell the truth, I'm starting to get tired of writing for Hunter x Hunter. It's an old series, after all, and there are lots of newer, more interesting fandoms just begging to be written. It's only because I've been getting such wonderful responses that I'm still writing for this fandom – I don't want to disappoint you all, and I don't want to be seen as a quitter. So, thank you, everyone, for your continued support!

September 8, 2007.