Disclaimer: I do not own HunterxHunter, nor do I profit commercially from these writings.

Author's Note: Before you read this, go to Youtube and search "O Come, Emmanuel" by the Piano Guys. I swear I am not trying to preach the gospel to you guys. I was listening to this music as I wrote this chapter. Perhaps you will appreciate this chapter more when you read as you listen to that music.

ABC Series

D IS FOR DREAM

The night was rather cool, with gentle breeze teasing the leaves and grass. The sky was cloudless, a clear midnight space with glittering stars in the distant. The moon hung low and bright, a silvery rim glowing around it with rainbow ring at the edge. It was quiet, the crickets and nocturnal birds singing their song quietly and solemnly, as if singing an ode in respect of the distant souls that had passed through life into the existence after.

Amidst this solemnity was a little boy sitting on the rooftop of his comfy little house. His face was tilted towards the moon, his abysmal dark eyes staring right through the glowing sphere. There were tear trails streaking down his chubby cheeks, his body rigid like a guardian statue overlooking the house. A frail-looking, gentle guardian statue. So small, so fragile, so quiet…

"Noah?"

The husky voice came from behind, accompanied by the barely audible tapping sound of bare feet against the roof tiles.

"Father." The boy acknowledged, his voice was but a quiet whisper.

The father didn't say anything. He stepped forward until he was right behind the boy. He slowly and soundlessly sat down behind the boy, his presence bearing a sense of protection for the boy; as if saying that even in quiet nights like this, he would always have his father's support. The man wasn't exactly a very demonstrative person when it came to affection, but when there was nobody to look on, to judge him, to criticise him, to observe for his weaknesses, when there were only his family around, he would openly show his affection.

He pulled his son gently to his lap and embraced him protectively.

The boy instantly leaned back into his father's hard chest, his body relaxing at the warmth that his father was enveloping him in.

They stayed like that for a long, long time. The nocturnal creatures continued with their songs, undisturbed by the arrival of another man. The stars twinkled, and the moon glowed soothingly above them. The wind danced gently around them, playing with their black strands of hair.

The silence was then broken by the little boy.

"I had a dream…" It was the barest whisper.

"A nightmare?"

The boy shook his head slowly, almost empathically.

"No. A dream." He whispered, his eyes glazing as he stared far away, past the moon hanging overhead. "A dream of the days of past long gone…but not forgotten."

The man closed his eyes, a slight stab in his heart.

"Are those happy days?" Father whispered back to son.

"Yes." There was smile in that word, in that voice. A wistfulness.

"What did you remember?" Father began stroking his son's hair gently, almost soothingly. He wasn't soothing his son. He was soothing his own soul.

"There was a lady. A really pretty lady." The boy began with a lilt in his voice, as if he was in a trance. "She has black hair and black eyes. Just like you and me."

The man buried his face in his son's hair. His hand continued its motion.

"There was a boy as well. He looks just like me, around my age, but he has your birthmark on his forehead…" The boy tilted his head sideways slightly. "He looks like a mini you, Father."

"Mmhm." The man couldn't help but to smile at the words.

"The boy was on the lady's lap. They were sitting just like this. Like us now." The boy leaned further back into his father's chest. "He was playing with her hair, and she was singing lullaby for him."

A sad smile on the man's face.

"Do you miss it?" It took all he had not to choke on his words, all he had not to let his voice waver.

"Yes."

"Do you wish you can go back to those days?" His whisper was even quieter.

There was silence.

"No." The boy leaned further to his father's embrace. "I'm happier here."

"…I see."

He embraced his son tighter and inhaled softly the juvenile-yet-distantly-ancient scent of the boy. He remembered that time; burying his face to the same texture of hair with the same faint sandalwood fragrant. He remembered the soft cooing voice at that time. He remembered the gentle, protective embrace.

"Do you know her, Father?"

He smiled. He cried.

"She was my mother."

On the other side of the house, in her bedroom, a woman was cradling her other youngest. She rocked back and forth, chanting the age-old prayer of her tribe softly and gently.

Sun in the sky, trees upon the ground,

Our bodies are from the Earth,

Our souls come from the Heavens above.

The Sun and the Moon shed light on our hands and feet,

The Nature rejuvenates our bodies,

Sends our bodies to the Wind that blows across the plains.

Give thanks to the Gods who abode in Heavens

For the land of the Kuruta.

Let our spirits live in everlasting vigor and protection.

I seek to be capable of sharing the mirth with my people,

To be capable of sharing their sorrows.

Offer homage to the people of the Kuruta tribe,

Let our blazing Scarlet Eyes bear witness…

She chanted and prayed, over and over again, but the little girl in her arms kept weeping silently. It bothered her, as her daughter usually cried openly and loudly. This time, the girl was so quiet, as if shedding her tears to pay her respect for something sacred and precious but long gone…

Her eyes blazed scarlet, and so did her daughter's.

They embraced each other as they shed tears together for their clan that was long, long ago. It had been reborn with new blood, but it would never be the same. It would never be the same clan that woman had known in her childhood. It would not be the same clan that her daughter was seeing in her dream.

A dream, the little girl had said. A dream, not a nightmare. It was a dream. A precious, precious dream.

So the little girl wept. Because she knew it was just a dream. She would never meet those wonderful people she saw in her dream.

It was just a dream.

A dream of the past long gone.

Gone.

They would never come back.

Her sons, her daughter, even her adopted daughter and her husband—they were all that was left of the clan. So small. So new.

So… precious.

Author's Note: The twins were visited by memories of their parents' past. Noah missed the days of Ishtar, Sarai lamented for the distant family she would never know. Kuroro proudly called Ishtar his mother. Kurapika considered and treasured her little family as what was left of the Kuruta clan; including those by blood and those by adoption. And believe it or not, she included Kuroro as part of the clan. A very melancholic chapter.