TW: Violence, gore and stuff. [It's the Kurta Massacre, what else could you expect :'( ]

Kurapika's eyes fluttered open. What was that he just heard? Was that a scream-

Someone put a strong hand over the blond boy's mouth. Horrified, he looked up. A rush of relief swept over him. It was just his mother.

A tear fell to his face. It was his mother's. She slowly removed her hand from his mouth and put a finger on her lips, gesturing him to be quiet.

Realising that her son's desperation was going to make him say something soon, she hugged him.

"My boy," She whispered in his ears. "Run.The village is under attack. They are too strong. Run. Don't look back."

She hugged him tighter before finally letting him go. She shoved a bag on the now sitting boy's lap.

Kurapika's brain had stopped working. The village... under attack? A name flashed in his head.

"P-pairo," He croaked. Without help, the nearly-blind boy would die. Kurapika was sure of that. Unless... he was already dead...

A tear slipped down his cheek at his mother's red eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby. Please run. Just escape. Live your dreams of the outside world. Make friends. Have fun. Live. Kurapika, live." She whispered, choking back tears.

"Y-you?"

"I love you." She kissed him on his right cheek and stood up. Giving a watery smile to her terrified son, she ran out the door.

"M-mother!" Kurapika yelled, putting his hands over his mouth moments later when he realised what he had done.

He quickly stood up. Clutching the bag close to him, he ran after his mother.

Outside their house, there was hell. Kurapika's legs gave way as he saw the destruction around him.

Eye-less corpses littered the ground, blood covering every inch of them, with their faces in the most twisted expressions possible.

Only a few houses including his, were recognisable. Others were either a burning pile of woods or simply pieces of it.

Worst of all, was the plight of his mother. She was alive but was bound with fine threads in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Her throat was cut in a way that she couldn't speak anymore. Tears and blood littered her previously pretty face. The threads were slowly cutting into her body, forming endless deep gashes that Kurapika knew could never heal.

The most prominent feature of her current state, however, were her eyes. They were burning the brightest scarlet Kurapika had ever seen. She was in pain.

The blond was on his knees now, barely breathing. He had left his voice back in the house.

"Do you think they are bright enough?"

Kurapika noticed the woman behind his mother. She had the coldest expression he had ever seen. But who... was she talking to?

Kurapika froze. Her eyes were focused on someone... behind him.

"Yeah... They might even be the brightest ones yet. Try to see if you can make them even brighter though, (1)Danchou would be pleased."

Kurapika wanted to look behind him. Wait, no...running away was what he was supposed to do. Right...

He stood up-- or tried to. The moment he made a move to get himself off his knees, someone roughly picked him up by the back of his collar.

"Hey, this is that lady's kid right? He can be useful. Not gonna lie, his eyes are a nice color too, pretty sure we can make them brighter though."

Kurapika's breathing stopped entirely. The casual tone of the speaker rung in his ears. What were these people? Were they even humans? How could someone talk about hurting someone in such a normal tone!

"Sure. You can take care of him while I hold her in place." The stone-cold lady answered.

Kurapika's eyes burned so much that his entire world turned red.

"Hey! Would you look at that, we're already making progress."

The person behind him was a man. The pitch of the voice confirmed that.

Kurapika closed his eyes. It didn't matter whether the one behind him was a man or a woman. They were still a monster. A monster that had hurt his mother so badly, a monster who... was gonna hurt him next.

"It can't be that bad, right?" Kurapika thought. He was so wrong.

A minute later, he was lying on the ground. His mouth was filled to the brim with blood, but he was so tired of throwing up that he just couldn't care.

His body hurt. It was hard to describe the pain, it was just too much for him. Most of his injuries were deep stinging cuts. His torturer was really good with his sword, injuring him just enough to not kill him, as if making him dangle between life and death, toying with him like he was just a sick joke.

Did it even matter anymore though? His mother was dead. Pairo was also probably dead. Now that he thought about it, his father must be dead as well. In fact, he was sure his whole clan was dead.

"Kurapika, live." His mother's soft loving words echoed in his ears. His vision blurred. His chest tightened.

He wanted to. More like, he used to want to. But now his world had ended. There was nowhere for him to live. He was better off dead.

(1) Danchou (団長) means 'leader' in Japanese- 'leader of a group'.