Disclaimer: I do not own HunterxHunter
Story so far: The Ifrit managed to kill Kuroro, consequentially killing Kurapika as well. What would become of them?
Chapter 26
SLEEPLESS NIGHT
When he came back to his senses, he found himself floating on his back in cold, endless darkness. He remembered his heart getting skewered by Deifri's ice spear, so he was supposed to be dead. He glanced around the empty darkness.
Is this afterlife? He pondered with dry humour. If it is, then it is astoundingly dull.
"Now, now, who says that you are dead for good?" came an irritatingly familiar voice.
Tilting his head upwards, he saw Phoenix approaching him up-side down in her usual regal gait. Or rather, he was seeing her up-side down. With a twist of his shoulders, Kuroro manoeuvred himself so that he stood on the invisible ground of the darkness, at the same level as the Phoenix was standing. He gave her a cold, questioning stare.
"Don't give me that look." She scowled unhappily. "I'm here to save your sorry behind so be a good boy and listen to what I have to say first."
Kuroro raised an eyebrow. It seemed that the Lady in Red was not in the most pleasant mood. With an annoyed huff, Phoenix folded her arms across her chest.
"Remember the time in the cave when I tried to fry you guys with my fire?"
"I certainly do." He answered with flat voice.
"Well, thanks to that, now you are going to come back to life soon."
Kuroro gave her a subtle confused look.
"When my Phoenix Fire failed to incinerate you to death, it granted you the ability to cheat death once since you were deemed worthy. To put it simply, you are coming back to life."
She watched as Kuroro digested the explanation, which did not take long at all.
"However, you better act fast, otherwise the girl may die the second time. When that hap—"
"What do you mean 'fast'?" Kuroro interrupted before she could finish her sentence.
At first her face turned red in anger for being rudely interrupted, but upon realising the jumbled up order of her explanation, she cooled her temper. With a swipe of her arm, a hologram-like screen appeared in the infinite darkness, showing the scene in the real world.
Kuroro saw his own body bathing in the dark pool of his own blood. Not far from his dead body was Kurapika's body, which was as motionless and lifeless as his was. It was unnervingly odd since he felt a rush of anxiety when he saw her dead body but he felt nothing when he saw his own corpse.
The Ifrit was laughing gleefully at their silly defeat and then with a thrust of his fiery arm towards the heaven, and explosion erupted from the ground that held both Kuroro's and Kurapika's body. When the dusts settled down back to the earth, there was a pillar of ice standing proudly and within its confinement were their dead bodies.
"I don't know what that shitty excuse of an Ifrit is thinking about, but guess he's planning to make fun of your corpses. Maybe to show the world that anyone who dare to oppose him will end up the same way." Phoenix snorted in unconcealed disgust. "Such a low taste."
Ignoring Phoenix's crude and vulgar remarks, Kuroro observed the scenery. Something was out of the picture. Upon closer inspection, he realised that the missing piece was the fact that the bloody hole on his chest had disappeared, revealing only smooth blood-stained skin under the tattered shirt.
"The moment you are revived, she'll be revived as well. The problem is the immediate effect of the ice pillar may kill her off. It ain't no ordinary ice, y'know. She's already out cold, and if you can't wake her up, she'll sleep forever because of the extreme temperature. My fire can't warm her since it doesn't belong to your material world."
Without needing her to go on to great lengths explaining the details, Kuroro understood it. That was why people were not allowed to sleep when they were in an extremely cold environment. They might die in their sleep.
"If that happens, there'll be no saving her. She doesn't have the protection of The Solomon Ring. That blasted ring only protects its rightful master, unless ordered otherwise. It's a shame that you don't know how to utilize its boundless potential yet, seeing that Ishtar sacrificed her life in order to pass down that ring to you."
The mention of Ishtar's name slapped him back into the reality of life. He turned to gaze into Phoenix's feral golden eyes, seeking a truth in it.
"She knew this would happen."
"'Coz I told her, dimwit." Phoenix harrumphed. "You know she isn't able to foresee the future, only seeing the truth of things presented before her eyes."
Phoenix might be the first person on the face of the Earth ever calling him a 'dimwit'.
"I gotta admit that she's smart enough to deduce the prospect of things, though." She muttered and shrugged. "Anyway…"
With another swipe of her arm, Kuroro was engulfed in her golden red fire. He looked around and noticed that the woman had disappeared. Her voice was only a distant whisper among the loud crackling of the mystical fire.
Hurry up, Kuroro… The clock is ticking away…
He could literally sense her broad grin.
Time waits for no one…
Deifri was in one of his most jaunty mood of the decade. It had been such a long time since the last time he killed someone. He was practically dancing himself silly, circling the ice pillar that contained his latest kills. From distance, Scheherazade only observed with keen eyes.
Scheherazade! The Ifrit called out to her with triumphant smirk plastered on his stony face. These people you brought prove to be not much of a sport to me.
"Don't be so full of yourself yet, Deifri. If I were you, I won't be celebrating yet. The real show has just begun," she said cheerfully as she watched with excitement the kindling sparks inside the ice pillar.
The Ifrit only had the time to shoot her a puzzled look when suddenly the ice pillar shattered into thousands of splinters as if an explosive had just blown from inside. Two bodies bathed in golden fire stumbled out of the pillar unto the hard ground. A suppressed groan escaped Kuroro's lips as he tried to roll into a more comfortable position.
WHAT? The Ifrit roared in disbelief. He swore that he had pierced that man's heart so why was that cockroach of a human still alive and well? And what in the freaking seventh hell was that otherworldly fire that engulfed him and the girl?
Ishtar sacrificed her life in order to pass down that ring to you. That was what Phoenix had told him in that dark limbo before he was whisked back into life by her Fire. Kuroro took out the Solomon Ring from his pocket and fingered it delicately.
If I can't do anything useful with this ring in my possession, it's the same as Isthar's sacrifice wasted for nothing, he said in his mind with resolute as he slid the ring into his middle finger, feeling the cold touch of the metal against his skin. He was going to figure out how to use the Solomon Ring—and fast—before Kurapika's life expired.
Then, miracle happened.
"Lemegeton: Ars Goetia." He found himself murmuring to the Solomon Ring that was glowing bright in his finger.
Springing out from the Solomon Ring in the next moment was a great demon. It was a blood-red dragon extending 30 feet long with large, red wings and blazing green eyes. Immediately, as if it was a knowledge he had known since long time ago, Kuroro recognised the name of that demon.
"Vassago, a Prince of Hell." He greeted the demon in breathless yet perfectly calm voice.
All this knowledge poured into his head without any prior stimulations or anything. It just happened—the knowledge simply entered his mind, showering him with the thorough detailed information about all 72 demons confined within the brass ring.
The dragon looked at him curiously with its great oval eyes.
Your command, master? It spoke with booming deep male voice, making Deifri's voice pale in comparison.
Kuroro gestured at the Ifrit with a nod of head.
"Get him."
In less than a heartbeat, the great demon leapt from before Kuroro and charged at Deifri mercilessly. The Ifrit, which had seemed to be invincible to both Kuroro and Kurapika just a mere moment ago, now appeared to be a child's play for the dragon. It was only at Kuroro's convenient command that the demon refrained himself from tearing the Ifrit into pieces. Instead, Vassago had a foot planted on Deifri's back, pinning the poor Ifrit to the ground.
Kuroro staggered to his feet and regarded his new subject with wary eyes. It was very different from having the Spiders at his command. This demon was a force that was beyond normality even to his standard. He had to be wise and careful in choosing his words when giving orders. Faithful they might be to him; the master of the Solomon Ring, but deceitful was their purest nature. It was better be safe now than sorry later.
Scheherazade looked at him with impressed look plain on her exotic face. She had anticipated him to have his cool in check, but she had not expected him to be so fully in control of his composure.
As expected of a man raised by Ishtar, she smiled approvingly.
Silently, Scheherazade rose from her seat and stalked towards where the commotion was occurring. Deifri thrashed around, trying to escape the iron grip but it was fruitless. All he obtained was harsh snarls from the dragon.
"Now you are at my mercy." Kuroro stated as-a-matter-of-factly. He regarded the Ifrit with cold obsidian eyes as he stood mightily before the squashed Ifrit despite his tattered shirt.
So what are you gonna do? Eliminate me? Deifri snapped rudely at him, and he was rewarded with a more ground-crushing pressure from Vassago.
"Be at ease, Ifrit. I won't kill you." Kuroro said slowly and deliberately. "But you will have to follow my rules."
No shit. The Ifrit spat.
"First, you are never to harm me and her…" Kuroro stopped momentarily as he reconsidered his choice of words. "…and our descendants to come. Failures will result in your immediate obliteration. Second, you are to follow whatever orders I command you. You are to abide by these rules until the end of your existence. Understood?"
He gave the Ifrit an evil smirk.
Deifri's face scrunched up into the ugliest face ever seen by Kuroro as he tried to keep his anger in check. Throwing tantrum in the presence of a Prince of Hell and his master was the most idiotic thing ever. No, he still treasured his life despite it being a little bit more confining in the future.
Crystal.
"I will not confine you into the ring, and so you are free to roam the world as you please." Kuroro added.
Deifri raised one sceptical eyebrow.
That is surprisingly generous of you.
"…I know how it feels to be stripped of your freedom." He simply responded as he silently recalled the day he was under the constriction of Kurapika's Judgement Chain.
Kuroro turned to the dragon, and with one nod Vassago moved towards the sidelines but still within a range where he could leap at the Ifrit before he could harm his master. Deifri stood in his fully glory, not bothering to dust himself after being forced to kiss the dirt by the demon.
"Pledge your oath to me, sealing this contract with your soul."
Kuroro raised his hand that donned the Solomon Ring, while Deifri tore his palm with his razor-sharp claw to draw thick blood. He hung his wounded palm above the ring, and when his blood dropped upon the Seal of Solomon, the ring was set ablaze.
I swear upon my blood— which is my life my soul—that I will abide by your rules.
There was a sizzling noise from the ring, and when the fire finally died down, the ring was intact and whole without any scorch marks. Kuroro knew by heart that the contract was sealed so the Ifrit posed no harm to him anymore. He turned to Vassago.
"You are dismissed."
With a loud roar; which had no malice in it, the great demon plunged himself into the safe haven of the ring. No traces of him were left on the material world. All was silent before it was broken by Scheherazade.
"Wonderful! Truly marvellous!" Scheherazade clapped her hands in a festive manner that it instantly made Kuroro suspicious. That woman was dangerously unpredictable.
"Looks like there is nothing more for me to teach you. Tell me, boy, did you feel like there is a massive flow of information when you first activated the ring?"
"So much of it invaded my mind that my head felt like exploding." Kuroro admitted.
"Good, then I have no more duty to attend to." She gave him one pleased smile before she turned her back to him. "Have fun with your new servant."
With that, she strolled away from the place. Kuroro watched on briefly as Scheherazade waved goodbye at him without sparing him one last glance. Then, he quickly averted his attention to his top-priority: Kurapika.
He crouched next to Kurapika's still body and to his dismay, her body was ice cold. He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mind cranking as he tried to think of something—anything—to save her life. An idea struck him and he turned to the Ifrit, who was standing leisurely one foot away from him.
"I will give you your first order." He said sternly.
The Ifrit knelt before him with one knee on the ground. He smirked at his new master.
Your wish is my command, sire…Though I must warn you beforehand that I cannot warm her with my fire. I'll end up roasting her instead.
Kuroro narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. Even after the contract, the Ifrit was still rude. How unnerving. Dismissing the irrelevant and trivial thoughts, he focused to the more critical of the situation.
"Bring us to the Prancing Pony Inn."
Fino closed the door behind her as quietly as possibly. When the door closed with a soft click, she leaned against it and sighed.
"Fino, dear? What's wrong?" Her father's voice jolted her from her trance.
Earlier on, they were having a peaceful and quiet day when suddenly the front door of the inn was kicked open and a young man stormed in carrying an unconscious girl in his arms. That action alone had scared the living hell out of the present guests, but he made it worse by bellowing Fino's name. Fino at first was hugely irritated by the rude guest, but upon seeing who she was dealing with, a myriad of expressions had flashed across her rather plain face. At first it was surprise, then confusion, then shock, and finally mortification. Before she knew it, she was already tending to Kurapika's dead-cold body.
"I haven't a clue, and Kuroro won't talk about it either. He only asked me to bathe Kurapika in hot water and I did just that. I don't know what happened and I don't think I want to know because Kurapika's body is not like anything I've seen, or touched in this case. It's as cold as frozen hell! It's like her body is literally chiselled out of an ice block!" Fino said with her hands flailing about her in excitement according to her story.
"And then?" The old man asked patiently.
"Well… It's not working at all. Since it isn't good to keep her in the water for too long, we have to dry her and keep her in the bed. I've put all kind of blankets and quilts and warmers above her, all the thickest ones I could find. Still, I don't think they'll help much." The girl shook her head sadly.
"Hmmm… Should I offer them advice?" Her father mused as he gazed at the door as if he was gazing at Kuroro and Kurapika.
Without waiting for Fino's response, the old man knocked on the door and waited politely.
"Come in," came Kuroro's soft voice.
The old man complied. He approached them as quietly as possible and upon seeing Kurapika's limp body—which was virtually blue in colouring—he could not help but to feel his heart shrinking. The lovely girl had been reduced to such lifeless state, it was such a pity.
"I don't know what happened, and I won't press you about it. But I think I can offer you a help on how to save her life," said the old man with revered tone.
Kuroro's head snapped to attention at the innkeeper's words. He looked at him intensely, waiting for him to spill the much needed information.
"Well, you see… There is one sure way to warm the body of a person who is close to freezing to death. It's by constant skin contact."
Kuroro looked at the old man dubiously with large eyes.
"Bare skin contact?"
The old man nodded solemnly. "Warm her with your body, that's the surest and fastest way to raise her temperature."
Kuroro looked back the dying Kuruta. His expression was as blank as it could get. The innkeeper observed him in silence, before finally he put a kind hand on his shoulder.
"But I won't push it to you, lad. I don't know what your relationship with the girl is, and I won't make assumptions here so I understand if you are unsure on committing such…act. But think it over. Her life depends on you."
He gave Kuroro one gentle squeeze on the shoulder to encourage him and he left the young man to his peace quietly, closing the door behind him soundlessly. Kuroro gazed at Kurapika's face; her skin was so white it was almost blue, her lips were already turning bluish. He frowned to himself.
What am I hesitating about? He scolded himself before he quickly got to his feet. I told her that I'm not going to let her die, and I am going to keep my words.
Swiftly he undressed himself, save only for his undergarments, and undressed Kurapika as well, leaving only her undergarments on herself. Under normal circumstances, this scene was something impossible to behold in any lifetimes he might have. There was no helping it. What was decency when it came to life-or-death matter?
Quietly he slipped beneath the mountains of blankets that Fino had supplied for them, and pressed his body against her. He shuddered at the first contact with her icy skin—it was as if he was hugging a Kurapika-shaped ice block. Kuroro then began rubbing Kurapika's frail back and arms, while he intertwined his legs with hers to keep them warm. He buried her head to the crook of his neck while he purposely let his warm breath brushed against her face.
All the time he did these, there was no response whatsoever from Kurapika. She only lay there, unmoving and lifeless, as if she was not capable of any senses of touch anymore. Kuroro then closed his eyes and for the first time in his 27 years of life, he prayed.
I don't know how many and whatever Gods are out there, but I only pray, he whispered to his mind vehemently, that she is not going to die on me.
Hours rolled by, and Kuroro feared that as the clock ticked by, so did Kurapika's life. The coldness of her skin was still of the same frigidness, and already he was feeling so cold himself. He had not stopped stroking her skin, trying to rub some strength into her body. He breathed to her ears, her eyes, her neck, and even her mouth—as if he was doing a CPR. He brushed the cold strands of her golden hair, holding her tighter in his arms.
His sight then absentmindedly travelled to the window of their room, where the curtain was still drawn and he noticed that nightfall had come. It was the first time that Kuroro had ever initiatively strived to save a life instead of destroying it. He had not slept for even a wink; how could he rest when Kurapika lay almost lifeless before him, her soul able to depart from the encasement of her body anytime when he was unaware? Staying vigilant was the very least thing he could do to reassure himself that she was not dead—at least not yet.
Again, he attempted to rub some warmth into Kurapika's ice cold body. He rubbed her arms, and then her back, and then further down to her thigh, feeling the subtle curves of her body with his hands. He chuckled darkly. Not that he had any perverted thoughts—he could not even bring himself to it, considering the dire circumstances—but he could be sure that some guys might be willing to pay handsome amount of money to be in his place.
Kurapika was not bad as a girl, though she was more than qualified to be a tomboy considering her feistiness. She was pretty enough—he was never picky about girls, not that he usually cared about them anyway—and she had a decent body figure, though she was a tad bit too thin for his taste. Ishtar did lecture him about neglecting their health, seeing that both—mostly Kurapika—had lost some weights.
What he appreciated from people was not their mere appearance, but their personality and character—the inner beauty, as some poetic people might call it.
Kuroro took a quiet scrutiny at the unconscious girl in his arms; the girl who was currently lingering at the border of life and death. Kurapika could be a very difficult girl at times, but when she had to be mature, she could be exceedingly so. Not to mention her strong sense of justice and conscience. She almost always needed logical reasons for all things that she did. He, on the other hand, did not really think of any reasons when he did what he felt he needed to do.
She was a person of high moral standard and a defender of justice—so to say in a cliché manner. He was one of the most wanted criminal in the world, head of the most notorious Genei Ryodan.
She was born in a perfect family, in a perfect home and village. She was raised properly. He was born in the most dangerous slum in the world, a haven for criminals and refuges from all over the world. He was raised by a Medusa for combat.
Her life was embittered by the massacre of her tribe. He was the brain behind the massacre. She swore revenge upon him. He took on the challenge.
That was the beginning of their intertwined stories.
They were both of the Specialization Nen group. They were both of AB blood types. They both possessed intelligence above average. They were both deft in their specialised skills. They were both cunning and strategists. They both had their own groups of trusted people—he with his Genei Ryodan, she with her other friends. Despite so…
Kuroro pressed his face against the frigid crown of her golden hair. He inhaled softly, but he did not catch any whiffs of her characteristic fragrance. The cold dissolved all scents she had. He frowned at this, and he held her tighter, ignoring the dangerously intimate proximity between them.
They were both lonely.
The first thing that she detected when her senses were barely revived was the coldness. She felt giddy and virtually frozen. It felt as if she had been dipping in ice water, or perhaps in one of the pools in the South Pole. Her teeth started to clatter softly in response to the frigidness, and she involuntarily shivered. Still with her eyes closed, she tried to move to seek more warmth, and she found it very soon.
Something solid pressed itself against her bare body, transferring warmth into her heat-depraved body. She hungrily embraced that source of heat blindly, encircling her shaking arms around it desperately as if her life depended on it. Kurapika had no idea on how true it was.
Something shifted around and a weight was put on her upper torso. She felt that she was being pulled into something akin to an embrace, but she was grateful to it. Not bothering to open her eyes, Kurapika shifted her head and found a more comfortable place to rest her head. Her mind was sluggish and she could not think clearly. All she could think of was to get herself warm.
She nuzzled her head to that crook-like spot. She inhaled softly and caught the whiff of a masculine scent that was registered as familiar in her mind. With a sigh, Kurapika drifted back into safe sleep.
She was content.
When he felt her shifting in his arms, he was close to rejoicing. If she was waking up, then it could only mean that she had passed the critical moment. She would survive. In fact, the most interesting thing was that the girl was snuggling closer to him. She even hugged him back in her attempt to salvage more warmth. Her body was acting on its own according to its survival instinct.
He let her do as she wished, even as she nuzzled against the crook of his neck and settled her head there. A smile escaped his thin lips, and for the first time after a long sleepless night, he was able to relax both in mind and body. He let himself drifted to the much needed slumber after knowing that the Kuruta girl would survive.
Previously, it had only been her sense of touch that was somewhat revived. This time, when she was waking up, all her five senses were more alert and fully functioning. The first thing she noticed was the familiar warmth that she had vaguely remembered craving for. The next thing was the familiar masculine smell.
Masculine? She repeated to herself in mild alarm.
Her ears caught the soft, low breathing of someone—a man—who was sleeping very, very, extremely close to her. She had not dared open her eyes.
No, no, no… She chanted to herself silently.
Gingerly and carefully, she utilised her arms to find out who was sleeping next to her. Her fingers traced surprisingly smooth skin, yet she could feel the firm, finely defined muscles beneath it. Her hand started from just above his waist and it travelled upwards. She stopped when her finger traced a portion of the back with rough skin on it. Feeling the texture, she knew it was a broad scar, and most likely located behind his stomach.
A scar around the stomach.
Something clicked in her mind. She had seen it before, and was told and shown on how he acquired that scar. Kurapika shuddered involuntarily.
She knew who the man was.
Very belatedly, she realised that her body was pressed tightly close to his body. She could feel his legs intertwined with hers, she could feel his arms draped across her upper torso. She could feel his chest—and the rise and low of it as he breathed—against her chest. Much to her horror, she realised that she was naked—safe only for her undergarments. Most likely, he was in the same state as she was.
Not even bothering to open her eyes to verify her suspicion—it was almost unnecessary to verify—she pushed him away and screamed.
Or at least that was her intention, because she ended up making a pathetic squeak—she sounded more like a terrified mouse than anything. Her startled cry and rough shove jolted Kuroro awake from his sleep and his eyes sprung open. His surprised-filled coal-black eyes found their way to meet with Kurapika's panic-filled ocean blue eyes. Seeing that she was practically naked, Kurapika quickly grabbed as much of the blankets as her arms could manage to cover her bare skin. Self-consciously and aghast, she curled her body protectively to hide herself, making her look more frail and small than ever.
At first he had been shocked out of his life, but upon realizing that the Kuruta girl had gained enough energy to actually shove him away in her frenzied reaction to finding herself more-than-half-naked in bed with him, he relaxed. He took more time observing her.
Her body was shaking very badly, but both of them knew that it was not out of fear. She had never feared him in any possible circumstance. This one was no exception. She was surprised, yes. She was shocked and panicked, yes. She was afraid of him, no. Somehow, she had that trust in him, odd as it seemed. She began rubbing her hands against her upper arms in order to induce more warmth into her body.
"Kurapika, you are cold." He said as-a-matter-of-factly while reaching out at her with one hand. "Come here."
His voice was soft and gentle, yet there was a tinge of tiredness in it. Kurapika looked at him dubiously, gripping the blanket with her shaky hands. Her eyes spoke volume: what in the deuce happened that we end up in this blasted compromising situation?
Kuroro wearily told him of the Ifrit and the Solomon Ring, saving the details for much later. Kurapika's eyes spoke again: Is this really necessary?
"I don't want to risk losing you just because of our silly pride. That will be ridiculous." He said sternly while waving off his hand impatiently.
Kuroro was so exhausted both in mind and body that he did not care to reprocess his words anymore. He did not care of what implication his words would bring about; he was just concerned about getting a particular girl safe from cold death. Kurapika forced herself to speak, but her words came out hoarse and crackling from lack of use and moisture.
"But—"
"Kurapika, if I want to do something to you, I would have done it hours ago when you are completely out." Kuroro said with exasperated voice.
The said girl blushed furiously, feeling the heat on her cold cheeks. Her mouth hang agape and she stared at the man with utter disbelief—because the man had actually not sexually harassed her—and embarrassment—because she knew that he was right. If it had been any other men, she would have been done for ages ago. Kuroro raised an eyebrow upon seeing her awkward reaction, but smiled to himself then.
"Come here, Kurapika." Kuroro said and reached out to her again.
This time, Kurapika complied as he took her arms and pulled her closer. After all, she was dying for more warmth. She meekly let him tuck her under his chin, but she made sure that her arms were between her chest and his chest. Kuroro did not bother about this and he merely enveloped her smaller form in his arms.
Kurapika inhaled quietly, and she took a good intake of Kuroro's scent. It had a mild masculine whiff in it and while Kurapika had never deliberately studied male's scents before, she was quite sure that this particular scent brought some sense of security with it—it felt as if she belonged there.
If she was to compare with other males she knew, the difference was there. Leorio had always put on cologne all the time, so she never knew about his true scent—not that she bothered, though. Killua and Gon, they were still barely out of their childhood and hardly in their teenage, and so she was quite sure that they still smelled like children at best. Again, not that she ever took special note of it.
Letting herself to be enveloped by the already familiar scent, Kurapika could only surrender herself in Kuroro's embrace and relaxed herself.
Suddenly, the person whom she had pledged her everlasting hatred to several months ago became someone whom she relied on most.
…you can at least rely on me. After all, I'm not your friend, was what he had said. How true it was. He was never her friend. He was…something more.
Shalnark looked around the tidy inn with interest. His Danchou had particularly instructed him to go to the Prancing Pony Inn and waited for him there. Curiously, just as he had taken a seat in one random table, a young girl about the Kuruta's age approached him with a huge grin plastered on her face. Her ponytail hair bounced behind her head, mimicking her jovial attitude.
"Are you, by any chance, looking for Kuroro?"
Truthfully, he had been flabbergasted to hear the girl mentioning his Danchou's name so casually as if she was his friend—the young Spider was not informed of her relatively new acquaintanceship with the Spider Head. He could only muster a dumb nod and stared at her with mouth agape as she bounced her way up the staircase. His jaws dropped further down as he saw her coming back with Kuroro in tow.
"Who?" was all he could ask in his stunned state.
"Fino, the innkeeper's daughter. She's the one keeping the Eyes for us."
"Ah, I see." Shalnark's cheeky grin reclaimed its place in his face, as if Kuroro's short answer explained everything crystal-clear.
Cheerfully, the sandy-brown haired youth took out a folded piece of paper and smoothed it open on the table surface. Without wasting another second, he proceeded in telling Kuroro about the black market movement concerning the Scarlet Eyes. Of course Kuroro had informed him that the bind had been dissolved and that he had regained his absolute personal-space freedom. Shalnark noted it, and had not been surprised to hear that the Spider Head was resuming the search of the Scarlet Eyes.
After all, Kuroro Lucifer was known to be a man of his words. The fact that it concerned a certain blonde Kuruta was an added incentive—or bane in Nobunaga's dictionary.
"I'm perfectly sure that there will be no problems regarding the Eyes, as long as you—" he paused for a couple of millisecond, before continuing, "keep tabs on them and keep me informed."
If Kuroro had a pair of cat or dog ears, they would have perked up sharply in attention when he paused in his mid-sentence. Shalnark noticed the odd gesture—that rarely happened.
"Danchou, did something happen?"
"She's waking up."
Shalnark looked closely at Kuroro's face.
"Kurapika?" He asked slowly.
Kuroro nodded. "She's been out for two whole days. It's about time that she wakes up." He said with an uncaring shrug—or a supposedly uncaring one.
Shalnark shifted in his seat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking at Kuroro with critical eyes. Kuroro noted this gesture and looked at the Spider with quizzical stare. It was not often that his subject would deliberately set a questioning gesture like that.
"Danchou, what are you going to do after this?" They sandy-brown haired young man asked softly while putting an index finger at the piece of paper laid bare on the table—the Scarlet Eyes location list.
"Leave her alone. And she will leave us alone as well." Kuroro's answer came immediately and automatically, like a rehearsed answer.
"Peace at last!" might be the kind of response that Kuroro had anticipated from Shalnark, but that thought scarcely crossed his mind.
"Are you sure, Danchou?"
Kuroro looked up and gave him a hard gaze. Shalnark shrunk a bit upon receiving that look.
"Your point is?"
"Actually, me and some of us (notably Machi, he mentally added) have noticed your…" Shalnark rolled his tongue as he searched for the suitable word, "…fondness towards the Kuruta. I doubt that it will be easy for you to simply leave her alone."
"What I feel have no bearing on what is to be done for the best interests of everyone involved." He firmly stated and with a dismissing tone in his voice.
That selflessness again…Shalnark noted silently, as he recognised Kuroro's refusal to further discuss that issue.
One of the reasons why he decided to join the Genei Ryodan years back was because he was attracted to Kuroro Lucifer's selflessness and his devotion for Genei Ryodan and the Ryuusei-gai.
This is the first time he has ever asked a Spider's assistance in his personal issues. Shalnark paused in his train of thoughts. Then again, he'll simply counter that this is for the Ryodan's best interest—to make sure that the chain assassin won't disturb us again.
He observed his Danchou as stealthily as he could when Kuroro was preoccupied with telling Fino that Kurapika was already up and asking the innkeeper's daughter to tend to the Kuruta. All his actions that he did for the Kuruta girl seemed to be sincere and heart-felt.
I don't know anymore which one is the truth. Personal issues or Ryodan's interest? The young Spider pondered.
When he caught the extremely miss-able soft light subtly lighting Kuroro's abysmal dark eyes the moment he saw Kurapika appearing at the foot of the staircase, Shalnark found his answer.
Personal issues, then.
The Kuruta girl had immediately approached them when she spotted them among the thin crowd in the inn's hall.
Kurapika stood by his side silently, while he glanced up and studied her facial features. They remained that way without exchanging a single word. She was not so pale anymore, at least now there were some depths on her face, not as white as a blank piece of paper. He could tell from the way she had walked earlier that her muscles were still slightly atrophied from the side-effect of the extreme cold. He knew that some stretches and walks were in order for her.
Kuroro reached out with one hand and cupped her cheek lightly in his hand. He could feel some warmth in it. Instead of flinching away from his touch as she would normally do, Kurapka leaned towards his touch, relishing the warmth of his hand. Previously, his touch had been very cold and lifeless—passionless. This time, she knew not whether it was her very low body temperature or Kuroro's own warmer attitude towards her, but Kuroro's touch seemed very warm and secure.
A shade of peace took its place in Kurapika's oceanic blue eyes, and Shalnark; being the keen observer he had always been, did not miss that. Inwardly, he smiled triumphantly to himself. If Nobunaga was to see it, by then he would have been on the floor with white froth spilling from his mouth.
"Is Fino coming with you?" He finally asked.
As if answering his question, Fino bounced her way towards Kurapika and grabbed her arms gently—she knew that the Kuruta girl was still very weak and withered. She had been told of the incident by Kuroro after the first night Kurapika had woken up, and she had been so horror-stricken she would have cried her eyes out for Kurapika had he not informed her that Kurapika was already recovering.
"I'll be with her, don't worry!" She exclaimed jovially, excited with the idea of taking a stroll with Kurapika. It was no secret that the country girl admired Kurapika very much.
After receiving his nod of approval and permission, the two girls made their ways to the inn entrance and disappeared behind the door. Shalnark still had his eyes glued on the door even after several seconds had passed.
"She's such a nice girl." He remarked.
"You have your chance. Fino is still single, so far I know." Kuroro chuckled amusedly at the sandy-brown haired man before him.
"Danchou!" His tone was screaming rebuttal, but a blush inevitably coloured his cheeks with generous shade of red. "I'm not thinking anything about her."
"Denial stage." Kuroro nodded knowingly, a mischievous smirk gracing his visage.
"A, an, an, anyway!" Shalnark deliberately cleared his throat as he tried to change the subject. "I heard from others that the Mammon is on the move."
All hints of playfulness disappeared from Kuroro's face when he heard of Shalnark's information, though he kept his face straight and blank. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly upon the mention of 'the Mammon'. He straightened up and the air around him turned serious all of the sudden.
"What are they up to?"
"We still don't know yet. The others are searching into it."
"Keep me informed about their activities." He said sternly, like a general to his troop.
"Roger that."
"Have you heard of the Mammon?" was the first thing he asked her when she was back in their shared bedroom from one of her daily excursion meant for light exercise with Fino.
It had been a couple of days since she was fully revived from her cold spell and she was now in the process of regaining her stamina. Her health improved by leaps and bounds, and by then she was ALMOST as good as before, only that she was more prone to cold now.
"Of course." She scoffed. "I spend most of my Hunter days before Hassamunnin incident as a blacklist hunter. I have seen it in the list of most wanted criminals. Why?"
"They self-proclaimed themselves as the Genei Ryodan's rival, and will do anything to best us in whatever business we handle."
Kurapika gave a condescending snort and began ranting away.
"Right. The first impression I got from their description is that they are just a bunch of homicidal, suicidal, psychopathic, muscle-bound, somewhat-strong Nen-users who are just trying to show-off their powers but they really don't earn any recognisable merits from their activities. Hah! I'm pretty sure that more than half of the Nen-users, mafia, and Hunter communities haven't even heard of them—except those who are in the blacklist business."
"How different are they from us in your opinion?"
"How different? Oh, please!" Kurapika rolled her eyes as if he had just asked the stupidest question on earth. "Do I really have to point them out?"
Kuroro gave an amused smile and leaned back in his chair. He put on leg on top of the other and clasped his hands together, resting them on his lap. His body language spoke of his eagerness to hear her possibly long speech.
"Yes."
Kurapika narrowed her eyes a tad bit unhappily.
"If I answer you, I am only doing the favour of inflating your already enormous ego."
"Humour me."
He isn't going to let me off the hook in this, Kurapika finally decided. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Well, first off, the methods they use in their activities are crude and unsophisticated; lacking all means to distinct them from any other mindless murderers. They don't seem to have any real purposes in their organization—except maybe to best your Genei Ryodan. Furthermore, it's so obvious that they are trying to make a name for themselves, seeing that they always leave an insignia of bloody 'M' wherever they operate. They have no originality."
At the end of her explanation, she clicked her tongue sharply in clear distaste as if emphasising her last point.
"So you are saying that the Ryodan is sophisticated in our methods?" Kuroro's voice was plainly of a highly amused tone.
"I don't recall saying that," she responded with offended tone. "Let me clarify: while you guys are more systematic in your actions, the Mammon's methods are more haphazard than anything else. I doubt that they have any proper protocols established in the gang."
The Genei Ryodan's trademark had always been their traceless disappearance after any missions. The missions were either bloody to sky-high scale, or very clean and swift without any evidence. No other criminal groups or individuals had achieved that kind of standard, and Kurapika knew well than anybody else that all the credits went to Kuroro Lucifer.
And that was the very same man who was sitting in a very civilised, if not exceedingly familiar, manner with her. Heck, they even literally shared a bed—no other meanings implied.
It seems that the Gods are bored out of their mind and decide to mess around with us…Kurapika thought in dry humour.
Kuroro stared at her for the longest of time that Kurapika started to fidget uncomfortably. She never liked being observed and scrutinised, and of all people Kuroro ought to know that best. The Spider Head leaned forward, put both his feet on the floor and rested his elbows on his laps, while his hands remained clasped.
"You know," he started, "you can say all these because of the handsome amount of time you spent with me, because you have been among us and see what is going on within the gang—because you are aware of our circumstances."
Kuroro paused to let the words sank into Kurapika's head, letting her to digest them.
"The you before Hassamunnin incident would probably rank us a low as they are." He finished casually with perfectly calm voice.
Kurapika looked at him with a look that said I-didn't-realize-that-at-all-but-now-that-you-mention-it-I-kind-of-see-it. She averted her gaze from his face to her twiddling toes. Her brows furrowed as she plunged into contemplative mode.
"I guess so…" She mumbled.
The older man got up and approached Kurapika. He stopped when he was a pace away from her. She was still looking down at her toes; suddenly they seemed to be very eye-catching. Giving away a small satisfied smile, Kuroro reached out to ruffle her golden hair gently.
"Don't look so dejected, Kurapika." He said huskily. "People are always prone to being subjective than objective when offering their opinions, especially on issues that have certain influential attributes to their personal lives. You are no exception."
"Are you?" She asked in a whispery voice after a long pause.
"No."
"In what issues?"
"You."
His answer came so forthwith and straight forward that it almost knocked her from her seat. She looked up hastily, intending to dare him to say that again to her face, but instead she found herself staring into a pair of obsidian eyes that only spoke of honesty to her. She knew that he was not lying. Still, his admittance—or confession, rather—was not something so easy to accept.
"Not the Ryodan? Not the Ryuusei-gai?"
"No."
"Not even Ishtar?" She crossed her fingers.
Kuroro gave a slight pause, before shaking his head.
"No." Since she is dead now, he mentally added.
She did not know whether to feel elated or dismayed by that.
"Why?"
She tried searching into his eyes for an answer.
"Do you need reasons?"
Kurapika ducked her head to escape his gaze and closed her eyes. She would be an ultimate fool…
"No."
…if she had not realized their intimate connection to each other. It might have stemmed from something utterly bloody and macabre, but nevertheless it was a need that they could not deny.
Kuroro was staring absentmindedly at the Solomon Ring and the other ring in his fingers, both mementos from Ishtar, in the solitary confinement of his bedroom when he finally glanced to the door.
"How long are you going to stand there looking like a fool?"
"How rude!"
And the door was banged open to reveal a certain lanky vampire carrying two boxes in his arms. There was a mock irritated look on his pale face as he strode surely into the room and dropped the packages onto the bed rather carelessly. Kuroro gave him a disapproving look.
"Kurapika is out, I hope?"
"Won't be back for another two hours."
"Slava Domnului! (thank goodness!)" Lucian whistled in relief.
Kuroro raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
"I don't want to see her getting into frenzied hysteria because of these." He motioned at the two boxes with a jerk of his head.
"Sorry to trouble you to bring them here." Kuroro chuckled and got up. He opened the boxed and inspected the two Scarlet Eyes; one complete with the head.
"Yeah, you should be sorry." Lucian humph-ed while he lay down on the bed on his stomach lazily.
After deciding that he was satisfied with the Eyes' conditions, he walked towards one corner of the room. He began fiddling with something that Lucian could not see from his position.
"Ce faci? (What are you up to?)"
Ignoring him totally, Kuroro continued with his work. Soon enough, a trap door was opened, revealing a door on the ceiling into a hidden attic. Lucian gawked at it.
"Wow. From outside, this inn sure looks normal. Never thought it'll have this kind of awesome contraption."
"Fino has too much free time in her hands." He said while chuckling lightly. "She knows more other secret places in the entire town."
The two worked fast in storing the new additions of Scarlet Eyes into the hidden storage room/attic. Just when they were done and had closed the trap door, a commotion could be heard from the street. Before they could check it out themselves, the door to Kuroro's room was banged loudly. In a flash, the room was opened by Kuroro.
Before him was the innkeeper, his face deathly pale.
"What is it?" His voice was passive and disinterested.
"F, f, Fino—"
Unable to finish his sentence, the innkeeper rushed downstairs as fast as he could. Lucian and Kuroro exchanged confused look, but nonetheless they walked downstairs to see what about Fino that was bugging the old man. If anything happened, Kurapika was probably tending to her anyway. Lucian was scarcely one step out of the bedroom into the corridor of the inn when his nostrils flared and his eyes widened.
"Blood." He muttered, catching Kuroro's attention. "Lots of them."
Kuroro frowned. If Fino was injured, Kurapika could have healed her with her Holy Chain. So why…?
"Oh, Doamne… (Oh, God…) These ain't hers." He gave Kuroro a horror-stricken look. "They're your fata's."
They ran downstairs.
Author's Note: Just a reminder, 'fata' means 'girl' here. I know that there are more vulgar words and profanities here, but I can't help it since the characters require them. It's kinda fun, anyway. Makes the story less boring…Somewhat. Next chapter will have a lot more profanities and curses. Should I rate it M for the next one?
Next: Lucian smelled a lot of Kurapika's blood, but the innkeeper seemed worried more about Fino. What had happened? Had the innkeeper left out something crucial?