Author's Notes:

PAIRINGS: Leorio/Kurapika (Leopika). Hisoka/Kurapika (Hisopika). Leorio/Cheadle.

RATING: Mature.

SPOILERS? Yes, until chapter 390 of the Hunter x Hunter manga by Yoshihiro Togashi. You may want to click off until you've caught up with the Succession War Arc, or have decided that you don't care. I do attempt to explain the context for the uninitiated.


Chapter 36: Fever dreams in forests

Thinking nothing of the tremor there, Hisoka shoves something smooth and cold against Kurapika's hand.

Drink, Hisoka is saying, or at least seems to be, basing on the flutter of his lips. Drink it up, baby. Drink it all down.

Hisoka's voice is garbling out, an echo from a distant realm even though he's sitting right there, resting on the edge of the same bed, his palm smoothing over the rapid thrum of Kurapika's chest. So close that he must see every bead of sweat, the pearlescent sheen of mistakes that Kurapika can't escape.

Kurapika's eyes wander away from Hisoka's face — creased with a concern that he surely does not feel deep down — to trace an unsteady arc toward his own hand. Instinctively, his fingers curl around the glass that Hisoka offers to him. It's filled to the brim, teetering, slopping water over the sheets.

When you wake up for real, boy do I have good news for you. The sounds aren't syncing up with the motions of Hisoka's lips, but they do reach Kurapika's ears this time around. Hisoka smiles as he speaks, flashing all his teeth.

The resulting burst of white blinds Kurapika's stinging eyes for just a second, and when he glances down at his own hand again, the water is gone.

Kurapika startles as he feels a chill against his collarbone. When did the glass get there?

Hisoka is beckoning it again, closer this time. You'll feel better. Open wide.

Has Hisoka crushed Kurapika's pills into a powder and mixed it with the water? Is he offering Kurapika just what he needs to feel better? The splitting sensation in Kurapika's head has spread to his throat and to his abdomen, but maybe with this medicine, Hisoka means to take the agony away.

Kurapika opens his parched mouth, waiting for a blessed trickle to soothe the burning, perhaps, but instead Hisoka pours everything, all at once. There's a breathless burbling over Kurapika's mouth, and suddenly he's struggling not to drown.


A clearing in the forest. Sunlight filtering green through the leaves.

Kurapika catches glimpses of his former favorite person in the world. Pairo peers through bushes, peeks from behind the trunks of trees. Even though Kurapika gives chase, Pairo is always several paces ahead. Whenever Kurapika tries to call Pairo's name — to ask him what's wrong, to beg him to stay — his throat can only release an odd bubbling sound, his voice warping around a mouthful of water.

As Kurapika continues to run, his legs start to slow, to grow heavier with every step he takes. Instead of slicing through air, his calves feel as though they're plowing through an invisible pool of jelly. Even then, he pushes past the building ache in his muscles. He can't let Pairo get away. Once Pairo successfully escapes, Kurapika will never see him in the clearing again. Kurapika doesn't know how he knows. He just does.

Kurapika sees a precipice approach, but he won't stop running now. If he can only see Pairo beyond this cliff — if he needs to make his peace with the ground below — then he'll do it. He'll do whatever it takes to feel Pairo's small hand on his own again.

Just like that, Kurapika pitches over the precipice.

At the very last second, something yanks him back to safety. He falls to his knees, and the water that he's been choking back for too long gushes from his mouth.


No. Not water.

He's vomiting over the edge of the bed, his fingers burrowing through blankets instead of blades of grass. There's a hand on his back, rubbing soothingly as he heaves out his insides over the floor.

When there's nothing left to throw up, Kurapika coughs once, then inches back his body toward a more secure position over the bed. He screws his eyes shut, willing the nausea to abate, and it does somewhat.

The hand continues massaging his back. This hand — isn't it too large? If this isn't Pairo's hand. . . . If Kurapika isn't dreaming anymore. . . .

Kurapika opens his eyes and twists around to look. "Leorio?"

But the person lying next to him isn't Leorio, of course.


In this dream, two monsters observe each other by flickering lamplight.

Kurapika breaks eye contact and glances sideward. Beside him, Queen Oito is staring apprehensively at the beast across the room, which has swollen slits for eyes and a gaping chasm for a mouth. Its skin is a deep brown, with a texture similar to clay.

No, this isn't a dream, is it? This really happened, ten or eleven or twelve days ago.

The queen is now telling Kurapika the same thing that she said back then. She recognizes the beast that looms protectively over her daughter's stroller. It's the Seed Urn, the queen insists.

Kurapika hastens to confirm this. Prince Woble's Nen beast is the Seed Urn's likeness?

The queen nods in response to Kurapika's questioning. She's positive that the beast's face — perched over a body similar in appearance to a tortoiseshell cat's, except closer to a tiger's in stature — is identical with the Seed Urn.

Like the Nen beast of the late 10th Prince Kacho, the 14th Prince's beast can also communicate with Nen users, albeit silently. When asked a question, it nods its head for yes and shakes its head for no.

Guided by the queen's crucial hint, Kurapika steers the interrogation accordingly. Presuming that Prince Woble's beast only bears the truth, it possesses the unique ability to terminate the contract prevailing over the Succession War. All the beast requires is a face-to-face meeting with its twin, so that it can swallow the Seed Urn whole and snuff out that fearsome power in its belly.

These parasitic beasts, as Kurapika explains to the queen, appear to reflect their host's most urgent needs and motivations. If Prince Woble's deepest desire is to eliminate whatever is troubling her caregiver the most — namely, the war and all its consequent carnage — then it makes perfect sense that her Nen beast holds the true key to resolving this conflict without unnecessary bloodshed. And because the prince is still an infant, with her brain still developing by the day, such a marked delay in her Nen beast's manifestation shouldn't be surprising in the least.

Kurapika approaches the monster and cautiously reaches out his chained hand to pet it, right over the seed-shaped ridges on its forehead. Much like a cat, the Nen beast pushes up its face against Kurapika's hand. It obviously appreciates this attention, this affection.

Kurapika, who continues to pet the Nen beast, isn't facing the queen as he speaks again, yet he knows she understands that his words are solely meant for her. Kurapika declares that Queen Oito's altruism — unflinching in the face of the barbarism around her — will save them the way that nothing else can. Without her kind heart, more princes are bound to die. The war can't end, otherwise. And as young as she is, Prince Woble, via her Nen beast, is already showing signs that she will eventually follow in her mother's footsteps, to one day display this same pacifism and humanity and grace.

Kurapika stiffens as he feels the queen suddenly embracing him from behind. She's shivering, sobbing as she thanks him, over and over again, for his consistent support and faith in her. For the first time in months, she's finally seeing the smallest crack of light at the end of this harrowing tunnel of darkness.

Kurapika smothers every urge to shove her off, to push his back against the wall where he'll be safe. He lets her hold him, lets her drench his back with her mingled grief and relief. There's this tiny bud of hope blooming in her breast now, and he'll be damned before he ever allows anyone — least of all himself — to crush out something so pure and so delicate.


There's a body pressing against his back, broad and hot and overwhelming.

More water, Kurapika. You've purged too much, so you need to replenish. . . .

Kurapika feels rather than hears the reverberations of a voice against his bones. This person behind him positions another glass of water over the blanket, by his right hand.

Come on, Kurapika. Sit up. Drink. You'll feel better.

Why does he keep saying that? He keeps repeating that, and yet Kurapika only feels worse during his brief forays back to wakefulness.

"Hisoka." Kurapika calls him by the correct name this time, though not without effort. "Hisoka, stop. I can't."

Hisoka's lips are right up against Kurapika's ear now, so Kurapika hears him loud and clear. "Yes, you can, baby. Open wide for me."

It's too much, all of a sudden. The tickling warmth over Kurapika's ear, the oppressive pressure over his back, the muscular arms encircling him. . . .

In his panic, Kurapika's chained hand spasms. A crunching sound, then jagged shards of glass slice into Kurapika's palm. A violent red hue stains the blanket, and continues to pulsate behind his eyelids even as his mind attempts to distance itself from this garish scene.

He sinks away from this nightmare and moves on to the next.


A thicket in the forest. Nighttime preventing him from seeing too far ahead.

For what feels like miles, Kurapika stumbles around blindly in the dense foliage before he finally surrenders and sinks down over a random patch of forest floor.

Perhaps Pairo will find him and lead him back to a familiar path, or sit by his side and hold his hand until the sun rises. But Kurapika doubts it. He's let down Pairo too many times now. He's made Pairo suffer dearly due to his own carelessness. Lost his temper in the worst places and circumstances, more times than he can count. Left him behind, left him to fend for himself against the worst evils of the world, left him to die. Couldn't save him, couldn't chase him, couldn't even fucking join him.

Can Kurapika ever do anything right anymore? No wonder Pairo hasn't visited him in weeks.

In the blue-black darkness, Kurapika stares down at his right hand. Blood is flowing freely still, blemishing the wood and leaves and grass around him. He then checks his left hand, which is also caked with blood even though he doesn't remember wounding it. No, who is he kidding here? Both of his hands have been tainted for a long time now, haven't they?

Whether asleep or awake, Pairo won't ever hold his dirty hands again. And neither will —

No. Don't say that name out loud. Don't even think it. There's no point now. Kurapika has already pushed that person away. The two of them are too far apart to ever bridge that gap again, and for good reason. He needs to keep that heart — with his favorite heartbeat, by far — safe and pure and intact. No matter what.

Lost in the thicket, Kurapika presses his red hands over his red eyes. Even if a new day rises, sunlight streaming orange beyond the darkest of self-imposed nights, he won't live to see the sky lighten now.


As he opens his brown eyes, he wonders for the millionth time why he's still here, why he's even alive.

"Are you awake for real yet?"

Kurapika turns his head to the right. Despite everything, Hisoka is still here, still lying next to him and smiling with the same old mischief. Hisoka must have mopped the floor, replaced the bloody sheets, wrapped bandages over Kurapika's gashed hand, periodically changed his stinking, sweat-soaked clothes, and God knows what else.

"Good news?" Kurapika prompts him, his voice barely above a croak.

"Considering that you were wandering in and out of consciousness, I'm astounded that you can even remember that." Hisoka reaches out to caress Kurapika's cheek with the back of his hand. "The 9th Prince called. He was playing coy with me for a while, but he finally allowed me to pass on the message after ringing for the fourth time and hearing yet again that you were too sick to stand up, let alone hobble to the phone."

"Then the standoff . . .?"

"It's over. 4th Prince Tserriednich has won, and 2nd Prince Camilla is dead. 2nd Queen Duazul managed to escape. She's hiding out in the 9th Prince's quarters now. Having personally witnessed the murder of her eldest daughter, the 2nd Queen apparently has valuable insight regarding the 4th Prince's abilities."

"Good news," Kurapika says once again, then forces himself to sit up. "Time to move."

Hisoka narrows his eyes as he watches Kurapika shuffling over the sheets, as sluggish as he can possibly be. "Nice try, pretty boy, but I'm going to start moving, while you're staying here to rest."

Perhaps accepting that he can't do much in his still feverish state, Kurapika stops testing out his own legs and instead taps on Hisoka's back with his bandaged palm. Kurapika does this repeatedly until Hisoka finally clues in. Hisoka crouches on the floor by the bed and waits for Kurapika to clumsily clamber over his back before he stands up.

"To the 9th Prince?" Hisoka inquires.

"To the 4th," Kurapika corrects him.

"The 4th Prince isn't where he's supposed to be. After he prevailed over the 2nd Prince, he and his faction stormed the king's quarters and set up camp there. King Nasubi's status — whether he's dead or alive — is currently unknown."

"Even better," Kurapika murmurs against Hisoka's nape. "We can fight them all there, while they're holed up in the same location. But for now, the 4th Prince's quarters. Have to check on something."


Kurapika doesn't expect to find anything of value in the 4th Prince's quarters, but he needs to verify first before he confronts Prince Tserriednich directly.

The insolent decadence of the abandoned royal quarters ignites something deep inside Kurapika, and he asks Hisoka to set him down on the floor. As Kurapika wanders over the wreckage — did 2nd Prince Camilla face off against her half-brother right here? — Hisoka follows a few steps behind, just to ensure that Kurapika doesn't fall over and injure himself further.

A glint catches Kurapika's eye. It's coming from a shadowy corner of the 4th Prince's bedroom. Carefully, he kneels down and picks up something that Prince Tserriednich has left behind. A meaningless artifact, maybe, to eyes that aren't scarlet like Kurapika's own.

It's a cylindrical glass jar, broken open. Its sharp edges emit the stench of formaldehyde.


More Author's Notes:

Happy Holidays! Check out Hisoka, Leorio, and Kurapika in obnoxious Christmas sweaters, here to bring you holiday cheer! (Or nightmares, depending on how you feel about them!)

h*t*t*p*s*:*/*/*twitter*.*com*/*ilyilaice*/*status*/*1342150697857388545 (minus the asterisks)

I drew this for Caasi, based on a conversation we had back in Chapter 33. I actually prefer the black-and-white version.