A/N: I feel guilty for making 4 consecutive fics for Karushuu within the few months I'm shipping them while I haven't updated this, so here you are. HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!

BETA READER: NONE.

Chapter 15: A Crass Invitation.

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As Kurapika assumed, as soon as the cruise arrived at the coast, the search for Kuroro Lucifer came into full stop.

Given that the Mafia didn't seem eager to catch the culprit due to their inexplicable connection to Ryodan's origin, Fram and his gang had no choice but to cease as well, though the look on the sharp-nosed hunter's eyes was telling that he so badly wanted to get the bastard. It was apparent to them all, though, that Kuroro did manage to escape. Of how, no one ever knew. Kurapika could come up with ideas and theories, but he figured it didn't matter anymore. He successfully escaped. Good for him.

However, he knew Meniandro wasn't over him just yet. One look at the maniac's eyes as they parted ways from the ship (Dmitri still courteously greeted him goodbye in spite of their poker game commotion) he knew he wouldn't let it go so easily.

Kurapika was certain he was up to something, and all he had to do was to wait for him to make a move so that he could teach him lesson not to mess with him before someone else did.

And so wait, Kurapika did. A week passed but still no Meniandro tried to approach or contact or pester him, which was good. But that didn't mean the week wasn't pedophile-free: the night before the week ended, he received a very short message from an unnamed number. Kurapika knew who the sender damn well enough without recognizing the series of digits by the sheer contents of the text.

'Yeah. Still alive, don't worry.'

Kurapika didn't bother reading it twice and casually hit the delete button. 'Lucky you, then,' he mentally grumbled.

Exactly one week after, another message appeared on his phone. It was short, too.

'What's up? The Mafia can't possibly still be looking for me.'

'He must be really bored… or frustrated,' Kurapika peered down his phone and deleted the message without a second look.

On the third week, on the same time and day he received the two previous messages, came another. It was longer this time and bore a definite intention.

'I'm back in York Shin, got another pair for you. Will be staying on the condo for the time being. See you soon.'

Kurapika heard himself snorted after reading. He didn't know if Meniandro had him stalked and monitored, and wouldn't want to risk being caught should he sneak one night to be laid. He didn't want the perverted billionaire blackmailing him with a reason such as sleeping with a master thief and murderer. Let him be sure of it but had no concrete evidence. 'Too bad for you, you need to hold that back or else deal with yourself for a while.'

He didn't bother replying and erased the message out of habit. 'Wait for nothing.'

But he became a little startled at the text message he received the next day, exactly the same time, from the same set of numbers.

'It won't hurt to reply, you know.'

Without a single ounce of care, Kurapika deleted it.

On the next day, on the same time, the same thing happened.

'If you still won't reply, I'll call you. You have a day. Same time.'

'Now that's being unreasonably demanding. Who the hell do you think you are?' Not obliged to follow such order, his finger went straight for the delete button. 'Call all you want. I don't care.'

It didn't surprise him, but Kurapika honestly didn't expect Kuroro to call when his phone rang a different ringtone the next day. He whipped it out and stared at the vibrating, noisy device. The screen displayed a now so familiar series of digits that he had subconsciously remembered. For a second, Kurapika weighed over a decision should he answer it or not. In the end, he let his cool take over and hung the phone up. He set it on silent mode next and retreated to his bed to sleep.

By the next morning, Kurapika found it a little weird when he saw neither missed call notification nor new text messages. So the persistent Genei Ryodan head knew how to give up and realized that people need some personal space, huh? Now that was a news.

And so a whole solid month passed, free from any bloodbath whatsoever. Somewhat, Kurapika grew relieved and even had convinced himself that he might be just being paranoid, and worrying wouldn't do any good at all. And to top it all, Kuroro never attempted to contact him again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the last week of the month, Dmitri attended a small gathering with his business colleagues in a hotel. It was an over-night party and his boss checked in for the night until the next day.

Kurapika's shift would end around twelve P.M., and Mitsuhiko was already there around eleven. Dmitri was currently engrossed with chatting with a man in suit when Mitsuhiko almost pushed Kurapika away, saying he didn't mind an hour early shift seeing that the blond must be tired and surely sleepy.

"Just treat me some coffee next time or something, alright? Now go home; you're frigging up for almost the entire day."

Kurapika knew he was over working himself since Dmitri was relying on him so much. Yet he knew himself he was just a mere human, nen-user or not, and he needed to rest.

"Okay. Thanks, Mitsuhiko-san."

Groggily, the Kuruta stepped out of the hotel's lounge and headed towards the main road to catch a cab when his tired nerves caught something: a murderous intent. Directed right towards him.

There wasn't even a fraction of second for him to react when he felt a heavy arm slumping over his shoulder and a crouching head on the other.

'He's fast,' Kurapika thought, more calmly than he expected. The stranger was reeking of malicious, dark aura. For one thing: the jerk was a superb nen-user.

"Keep walking and you won't get hurt," the man behind him said just above a whisper. Kurapika let a breath that he couldn't remembering holding. It was a relieved sigh—

It wasn't Kuroro Lucifer.

"Don't even try to turn your back. One funny move and you're dead," the voice ordered.

It wasn't wise to disobey given the position he was in. Moreover, he was ninety-nine percent of who this badass fast of a nen-user's boss was.

Okay. Time to kick some ass.

The man's speed somewhat deterred him, though. On the other hand, it might be not about speed. It could possibly be a teleportation skill just like Kuroro's (that was why he initially assumed it was him). He could tell that the man was taller than him, and one uncalculated attempt to escape could cost him his life.

Kurapika did what he was told.

"Move it. Look straight ahead."

The stranger's big hand rested lightly on his shoulder like they were the best buddies. Kurapika resisted the urge to grab and twist it. He crossed the street along with the guy and knowingly sauntered towards where he was told to go. He kept it cool and calm, as if he wasn't about to be abducted.

Until they reached a near corner where a black van was hazardly parked, its side door was open.

"Get in," he felt the man jerked his head, beckoning him.

Kurapika climbed in, expecting an attack to knock him out.

Which didn't come.

Calmly, even a little arrogantly, Kurapika sat on a vacant seat. There were two other men inside, the driver not included. One bulky guy was sitting across him, shooting a sharp and warning gaze. The other was behind the seat Kurapika occupied. He wasn't as excessively huge man like the other two, but the Kuruta could tell he was strong. And a strong man behind you wasn't something to take carelessly.

They were pretty hospitable for a bunch of kidnappers. The fast bastard sat next to Kurapika, and that was the last thing he saw as a dark piece of cloth covered his eyes. The man behind blindfolded him not so gently, followed by something cold and metallic, presumably cuffs, bound his wrists. He heard a light clanking sound, and he could trace aura of nen circling around it.

"Good boy," the voice from behind said. Kurapika didn't waste energy to get annoyed or react at all. He remained silent and began to trace where the car was heading as it rumbled and started to move.

The guys were chatting about mundane stuffs like Kurapika wasn't there. Kurapika remained silent and obedient. Their conversation was normal, until the man at the back suddenly commented something unrelated to their topic.

"... Hmm. Boss is surely has a bizarre taste."

"You don't have the faintest idea how wide his taste's range is. Not to mention the servant's state every after session. One time, the victim was so hurt he ended up dying. Around ten to twelve years old. Disposing the body was such a pain in the ass."

Kurapika was now dead set to give the bastard a very educational private lesson he would never forget for the rest of his life upon hearing that.

"Taking your silence, you must be aware of where we are going."

Kurapika didn't answer.

"Oi, you. Are you mute or something? Answer me!"

"Leave him be. Boss said not to hurt him unless necessary. He's compliant, this is such an easy catch and fucking boring. Let Boss deal with him and have his way; I'm sure he'll dispose him shortly after. You can have your turn, then."

"Don't underestimate the kid, gentlemen," the man next to him warned. "I know these types of people. He might look harmless but this one must be strong. Meniandro-sama wouldn't flock us all his strongest men if he's not. Don't let your guard down."

And that was the confirmation Kurapika was waiting for. This was Meniandro's doing.

Kurapika clenched his fists hard and began to devise the best course to teach that prick what he ought to learn when he decided to mess and go against a humiliated Kuruta.

Some odd minutes later, he felt the car slowing down to a stop, its engine died. He heard his captors moved and got off the vehicle, a hand roughly pulled at his arm and he was told to move. He complied easily, instantly sharpening his senses and carefully activating his En. One, two— there were a total of three nen-users around the vicinity. The auras they emitted were not that powerful, but still those were three opponents. But fair enough, Kurapika could confidently say that he could manage.

Just then, he felt a strange, swift sensation: a punch was coming his way.

He didn't dodge.

The hit didn't come.

"... You're awfully cocky, boy. Now I see why Boss likes you," it was the fast nen-user. His knuckle must be just a mere centimeter away from Kurapika's nose.

"What, you thought were not manned with some nen-user?"

"Not at all; I'm not that stupid to assume that you're not prepared for this rather urgent invitation."

He heard the bastard's silent, hitched breath.

"Wha— I can't move! What the hell!"

"However—" then the sound of rattling chains followed, with Kurapika's swift twirl to hit the other guys behind, still blindfolded but free from the nen-laced hand cuffs.

"How—" the fast nen-user uttered before getting hit squarely on the face when Kurapika shot his Dowsing Chain towards him. The blond pulled the blindfold off of his eyes and let it fall down the ground. Counter attacks befell in quick successions; guns were pointed at him, and three other suited men holding unique weapons poised to charge towards his direction. Seconds later, bullets started to rocket to him. He nonchalantly summoned his chain and spun it to deflect the shots, the magically enhanced metal links efficiently caught the ammunitions that came from all directions.

One nen-user shot to his feet and aimed to land an attack with a sword in hand, one look and Kurapika knew it could punch to his nen wall. He leaped high, keeping the chain propelling to shield himself from bullets, while gracefully dodging all of the poorly aimed slash and darts of the sword.

Kurapika had thought of an idea how to deal with these small roaches quick when the fast nen-user whistled, rendering his subordinates to stop attacking. They did, with cautious, twisted expression remaining on their faces.

"Now, now. Gentlemen," he calmly remarked, contrary to the flick of building anger behind his eyes, with his nose profusely dripping wet with his own blood. "As much as I want our visitor dead right at this moment, let me remind you what the Boss had strictly commanded. Now, Sir," he regarded Kurapika a piercing look. "Why don't we settle this in a civilized way? Here's the deal," the man then raised his hand in the air, his aura started to swirl and spike all over his body, and a big, seemingly dull sword slowly materialized out of thin air. Once the weapon completely appeared, he clutched onto it and lashed it conceitedly towards the Kuruta. "One on one. Should I win, you'll cooperate."

"And what do I get if I win?" Kurapika spared him an unfeeling gaze.

"Then try another one of us and defeat him, too."

"Fair enough," Kurapika friskily agreed: it had been quite a while since the last time he got into some action (minus that one action that involved Kuroro Lucifer and bed) and even if this troop doubled up, they could hardly make any contest against Ryodan's Uvogin and Kuroro.

Kurapika did just fine back then; this should be easy.

As the fast nen-user moved his hand to whip his sword, Kurapika unleashed a good amount of force and concentrated them all in his Dowsing Chain.

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To see other people shaken in fear and despair was never Kurapika's thing, but it couldn't be helped: witnessing how a corrupt and vain asshole like Meniandro shuddering from head to foot in helplessness was admittedly satisfying.

The Kuruta managed to knock down all of his men singlehandedly just in time to catch their boss stealthily creeping his way out of his grandiose mansion.

His master's bedroom showcased a twin door that revealed a spacious room equipped with a king size bed which was adorned with peculiar looking, detachable leather straps. On a side sat a big, out of place, transparent round glass that resembled a fish bowl, only it was custom-made to house a person instead of a gold fish. Across the bed was a flat-screen TV, erected atop of an organizer that featured neatly arranged, suggestive looking objects that screamed adult toys, in all colors and sizes. On a wall slung a couple of tangled leather straps that Kurapika didn't exactly know how to use and wasn't really interested to find out, and with what he had seen on every corner of the room, he had safely assumed that more than the master's bedroom, he likely had intruded Meniandro's playground.

Speak of the devil: cloaked only in a bathrobe and looking freshly out of the bath, Meniandro was clutching a piston on his right hand, its arm accurately pointing at his chest. The left one was carelessly cradling a canister that contained something that silently stoked the already crackling fire of rage inside the Kuruta.

It was a pair of scarlet eyes, and with the way Meniandro huddled his arm around it while keeping the hold on his gun, it might slip and crash on the floor with one wrong move.

Next to how to properly kiss, one more thing Kurapika learned from dealing Kuroro Lucifer was how to keep his cool and rage at bay while wearing a mien devoid of any emotion. He didn't do much as to look at the Mafioso and the eyes with a vacant stare before taking a step closer to him.

"Back off, or I'll smash this thing down!" Meniandro growled, vehemently pointing his gun to Kurapika. He gripped on the scarlet eyes tighter.

Kurapika easily did what he was told and stopped, though he didn't back away.

The blond could see it, how effortlessly it would be to flick his chain towards Meniandro, slither it around the canister and tug it out of the man's clutch. Sure, the aim was perfect but dodging it was a piece of cake. Taking the eyes and leaving the hell out of here wouldn't break Kurapika any sweat, but he refused to go down the easy road because this was finally the chance to give the man a private lesson he ought to take.

"What," Kurapika wanted to know first, "are you actually thinking, messing around with someone tormented like me?" His voice sounded flat and distant; it felt like it belonged to someone else. "I thought the likes of you are more interested with younger, fresher ones." He took one step closer to him.

"I said BACK OFF!" Meniandro whizzed out, his gun wavering its aim as he trembled even more.

Kurapika halted. "Calm down, Meniandro-san. I disliked this rather aggressive and crass invitation to your place but I honestly don't mind: believe it or not, should you have asked an appointment I could have checked my schedule and set a favorable time and date. If you've done your research right, you should have known that a word about the scarlet eyes is enough to catch my attention." Kurapika spared him an unfeeling smile. "I'm just a call away."

Meniandro's eyes instantaneously gleamed in triumph. "I knew it; you're a pro."

Nice. He should thank him for the slang term later. His smile slowly wore off, his eyes remained on the man's.

"Not necessarily; it depends on the mode of payment," he rode along the play. "I strictly accept only the Kuruta eyes."

"I see," a creepy, perverted and hoping smirk broke on Meniandro's feature. "Fair enough; is there any more terms and conditions?"

"Yes, given that I'm bound to have it rough with you. But for starters, why don't we talk about how you got your hands on that pair?" Still with his face blank, Kurapika hooked one finger on his tie's knot and loosened it, all the while taking one or two cautious step closer to the man.

"I-I bought it," Meniandro audibly stuttered and gulped, eyeing Kurapika's tie and stepping back. As he did, the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed and his knees buckled. He ended up tumbling down the mattress. He seemed to have forgotten his fear, and lust had begun to take him over: Kurapika was now only step away from him, but Meniandro raised no more threat.

"If you'll excuse me, sir," he held out both his hands and beckoned him to hand over the gun and the eyes. "Let's set those aside first, and if you don't mind, can I have the eyes' authenticity checked?"

Meniandro's eyes glinted in alarm and distrust, but with one look of playfulness on Kurapika's eyes and the Kuruta knew his libido had clouded his judgment again. "Swear you won't pull any tricks first."

"Alright, I swear," he drawled in a boyish tone. "No tricks, Meniandro-sama."

The fool fell for it; he surrendered the items. God, this man's lasciviousness was sickening. Well, most men tend to act stupidly when it came to carnal desire.

Take Kuroro Lucifer for number one example.

Kurapika carefully received them and placed the gun to the bedside table. He scrutinized the canister and activated gyou: they were indeed a pair of authentic Kuruta eyes.

"Verification complete," he once again flashed a timid, inviting smile. "Good work, Meniandro-sama. Now, why don't you lean on the headboard and we'll have a chat?" He popped one button of his white shirt, revealing his collar bones, setting in the mood.

Meniandro's face practically lit up in disgusting anticipation and obeyed like a dog; he scrambled over his bed, sitting on the upper part of it and leaning on the headboard.

"So, back to my earlier question," the Kuruta gently placed the eyes to the bedside table, next to the gun and lampshade. "How come you find me interesting, given that I'm no beginner? You know, as what my sources told me, you're more into underage kids and teenagers— do you have wine here? I'm thirsty," he looked around, staling time.

"I-I do, it's inside the bedside table's cabinet," Meniandro stuttered.

"Cool," Kurapika ran a hand over his hair and smartly ruffled his blond locks, giving off a rugged look. He knew how looking like a mess strangely arouse men. He bent down and opened the compartment, pulled out a bottle of champagne and a glass next to it. He languidly filled the glass half-full, faked taking a sip and placed both the glass and the bottle on the table.

"Hmm, this is pretty good. So, why do you find me attractive?"

"That... that man. Kuroro Lucifer, was it? He's the one who leads the group of thieves who annihilated your clan, right? W-Why are you servicing him?" Hell, another stomach-churning term. "Aren't you supposed to hate him?"

Kurapika moved... to crawl over the man and sit face to face to him, legs parted and folded, his inner thighs pressing on the mattress. It gave off an impression of innocent submission. "I can't disclose classified information about my customers, sir."

"I see. Well, you hate him, don't you?"

"Yes. More than you can ever imagine."

"How come you can stand being around him?"

"Hmm," Kurapika leaned forward with a hand pressing against the mattress, holding his weight. "Closing my eyes. Imagining it wasn't him touching me. Having a good time. He's excellent, actually. It wasn't that hard to stomach."

"Are you a masochist?"

"Who knows. Maybe yes, maybe no," there was another flash of greedy excitement shone on the maniac's eyes.

"H-How many customers do you serve at this moment? Are you sleeping with Dmitri, too?"

"No," Kurapika hissed. "He doesn't swing that way. My only customer as of now is that jerk: he has the most number of the Kuruta eyes."

"I see... Haven't you tried to kill him?"

"That man is powerful and clever, it's not that easy. Guess you really didn't look much on our backgrounds. Do you even know what kind of weapon I wield?"

"Nen weapon... I do hear a thing or two regarding that. What about it?"

"I see. I'll show you something amazing," Kurapika sat closer to the man, grinning pretty amusedly. He then raised his right hand and summoned his chain. Meniandro's eyes widened in complete shock and almost paralysis. He took in his funny reaction, then let his Chain Jail drop; it clankingly slithered around Meniandro's body and either arms. He looked nervous and tense, but excited nonetheless.

"Chains," Kurapika offered a nonchalant twitch of his lips. "Widely known as an enticing equipment for erotic bondage plays."

"H-How... "

"What more," Kurapika saved the best for last: deluding him with a seducing flutter of his eyelids, he activated his fiery scarlet eyes and looked at the man. Fear, tension, confusion, fascination, anxiety and alarm; Meniandro looked so messed up in the head. He could clearly see all sorts of emotions featuring the perverted prick's face. "My scarlet eyes strengthen them. They make it invincible, unbreakable, and no one could escape its bind: none of the Genei Ryodan can. Even Kuroro Lucifer didn't stand a chance."

"What are you..."

"What I'm saying is," then Kurapika let his aura flow forth in tremendous bloodlust— all directed at Meniandro. The man, not seeing it and taking in its full brunt, was frozen and devastated. His mixture of emotions all dissolved and was replaced with one single expression.

Terror.

"You're messing with the wrong people, Meniandro-san. These chains are made to destroy anything that obstructs my way towards my goals. They killed a couple of powerful Genei Ryodan members, and certainly I can kill you right at this very moment," Kurapika enunciated every word in heavy, warning tone.

The chains around Meniandro tightened, then they magically moved and sunk on the headboard, straight to the concrete wall behind it. It continued to circle into a secure bind until it stopped and firmly wrapped all over the man.

Meniandro was nothing but petrified.

"N-N-NO! Let me go! Please kill me, don't kill me!" He began weeping, frantically shaking his head.

Kurapika let his hand fall down his lap, bloodlust slowly dissipating. "Take this advice as a warning from a concerned citizen, Meniandro-san: Kuroro Lucifer is not someone to mess with if you value your life. He doesn't care about anything unless it benefits him. I won't stain my hands with your filthy blood because it's not worth it, but that man certainly won't mind getting rid of you— in fact, he'd been more than eager to do so... should you continue pestering me. So stopping hitting on me if I were you." Kurapika languidly got off the bed and reached for the scarlet eyes, wanting to leave as soon as possible. "I'll be taking the eyes; I believe I have the right to take back what rightfully belongs to my clan."

"What do you think you're doing!? Get this fucking chains off of me!" The bastard sobbed.

"Those chains will disappear sooner or later, depending on my mood. Don't waste time trying to cut them off: no chainsaw can ever break them. Behave like a good boy and reflect on your wrongdoings; it'll eventually wear off," Kurapika turned his back to the man. "Again, Meniandro-san. Leave me alone. You don't have the faintest idea what things Kuroro Lucifer can do," he warned then added in a low, murmuring voice, as if telling this more to himself than to the man.

"So do I."

He moved towards the door. "Have a good day, Meniandro-san."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Add seduction to the ever growing list of things Kurapika was learning to do all thanks to Kuroro Lucifer.

The Kuruta felt both sick and somehow a little impressed with himself for pulling such unimaginable act. He was nothing but infuriated and disgusted back then, but to think that he did just fine in holding back his fury and handled the situation in a sound mind instead of letting anger and hotheadedness cloud his judgment, he could tell that perhaps those times he was obliged to cap his temper whenever Kuroro pressed his warm, soft—and filthy lips on his had turned into some sort of anger control training. Even the expressions he showed, choices of words and motions he did to deceive Meniandro had naturally slipped out of Kurapika. He couldn't help but wonder, but would there be a difference if he faced the same situation and he didn't have the experience on playing games? What would have been the outcome if he stormed in the man's bedroom and received the same proposal? Would he just fight and hurt the man, threaten him, try to buy the eyes in cash, or just take the eyes and act like a thief? If he tried to seduce the man while having no experience, would it work? But Kurapika could only wonder: whether he had experience or not didn't change the fact that he was bound to harass people into surrendering the eyes. The methods would only vary.

He left the mansion in haste, wanting to return to Dmitri's as soon as possible. Meniandro's manor laid inside a huge, executive village and Oogle Map estimated that it would take him half an hour walk to reach its main gate: Kurapika estimated he would save twenty minutes if he nen-run it all the way. Unfortunately, he was tired after all the fight and it had been a while since he strolled anyway (the village was deserted and quiet, trees and neatly kept lawns dotted the vicinity, the air was cold and the darkness was seeping down his skin). The time on his phone read 3:17 A.M.

One hand in his pocket, the other clutching onto the pair of his brethren's eyes, Kurapika sauntered the streets, shoulders aching in fatigue and eyes a little droopy from sleepiness. It didn't affect his pace, but he had to admit that he was tired and wanted nothing but to lie down on his bed and rest: taking on a bunch of brutes, thirty of them alone did come with a price. He breathed in and massaged his temples, screwing his eyes shut before running his fingers through his bangs, his hair wet with sweat.

Then a strange feeling flooded his senses: it was as if time froze all around him. The air, the light, the coldness, the sound. They all disappeared. It was hard to breath. He couldn't open his eyes. He stood stunned on the spot, hand still cradling his head, his mind grumbling 'Goddamn it!'

Meniandro still had some reinforcement? Damn, he had enough of this. This bastard, whoever he was, was far cry stronger than Meniandro's speedy nen-user. His guts were telling him that this was no good: at this rate, he wouldn't stand a chance, not with his fatigue and the Kuruta eyes on his hand.

But panicking wouldn't help. He tried to breath deep, relaxed his closed eyes, and limply let his arm fall to the side. He kept them shut, taking in the sensation: the sound, the humid air against his skin, the presence of anyone near him. He sensed one: about five to three steps ahead.

Weird. He could have dealt a blow at that proximity. Two more seconds passed. No hit came his way, only the presence inched nearer.

God, Kurapika was having a very nasty feeling about this.

One more step closer, then Kurapika instinctively activated his Kuruta eyes in hope it would help him get out of whatever nen spell he was under. It did; his eyes snapped and a hooded figure came looming in front of him. Adrenaline kicked in and he took a step back before launching a powerful punch to the assaulter's face. The bastard easily dodged, and it granted Kurapika a meager second to back away.

That turned out to be useless because his back just hit a concrete wall. 'Tsk,' he was cornered.

Kurapika wouldn't back down of course. Reluctantly, he swiftly crouched down and placed the eyes on the ground before sliding it away: good thing the asphalt was smooth and the container didn't hit anything. Then he realized he was still inside the village, on the road where he was walking, but somehow now some odd meters away from where he stood frozen earlier.

Back to his assailant. The man stood in front of him, just some inches away. His hood covered more than half of his face. With the scarce lightning, he couldn't make out his appearance. For one thing, though; he acted odd for such a kidnapper: instead of taking advantage of the plentiful times when he could attack, he chose to watch and observe at how Kurapika gathered his wits.

One more experiment and he would be sure of who this little pesky bastard was.

Kurapika sprung forward with his fist aiming for the spot he missed earlier, and it was expectedly dodged again. The man slid to a side and raised a hand, assumingly targeting Kurapika's arm. A heavy hand curled around his forearm, and Kurapika was roughly pulled. The man then twisted it on his back—the blond winced— and he was now standing closing behind.

'Good,' a triumphant smirk crossed Kurapika's lips for a second. Once both of his hands were forcibly pulled to his back, Kurapika quickly gathered his nen on the back side of his head, rocketed up his heels before slamming his nen-covered head against the man's chin. A grunt slipped from the man's lips.

The hold on his arms loosened and completely fell off. Kurapika darted forward then spun around.

The man clutched a hand on his chin and ran it up to his head. Pale skin, dark hair, thin lips, crooked nose, round-shaped green earrings and cross-tattooed forehead. He groaned and shook his head, shaking off dizziness. He let his hand fall to his side.

More than surprised, Kurapika was annoyed.

"Damn. Just how hard and thick that head of yours is?"

"Oh," Kurapika narrowed his eyes. "If it isn't you, bastard."