A/N: I'd like to thank that nice reviewer on Lofter, Yals(?)-san, for mentioning PTSD (Post-traumatic stress disorder) on his/her comment. I was having a hard time looking for keywords for research to use on this chapter, and it solved everything. It helped me in depicting post-trauma symptoms and I got to work on this chapter quite easily (and quickly at that XD) *Though I hope I described it correctly.
Again, please do not get used—no, wait. Actually, never mind. I rarely get productive so let's make the most out of it.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HXH.
BETA: None.
Chapter 22: A Disastrous Aftermath.
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The news of Meniandro's death and his mansion being burned down the ground reached Dmitri's ears two days after the incident. Dmitri immediately dressed up upon receiving an invitation for his funeral and called Mitsuhiko to escort him to the columbarium.
According to the reports, Meniandro along with his thirty personnel, guards and maids included, died and had their remains burned crisp inside the mansion. The fire was raised to the fourth alarm and their burnt corpses could hardly be recognized. There were barely items retrievable to be used as evidences for the investigation but the fire was declared to be arson due to the traces of a flammable substance used to speed up the flames.
Among the corpses, Meniandro's was said to have burned the most because most of his body parts were charred and missing. His bedroom was the most destroyed part of the house and it was believed that the fire started inside it. His stash of BDSM equipments was found and his other possessions were burned to ashes.
Mitsuhiko told his other co-workers, including Kurapika, that Meniandro's remains were already cremated when it was displayed on the funeral. Theories of the cause of fire and his death were the topic of most conversation of his visitors, and the plausible motive of the culprit was speculated to be revenge. Meniandro, after all, was known to be a BDSM practitioner and had abused a number of victims, children and abducted women included. He was also known to have many enemies due to his attitude, not to mention business rivals. There was a lack of evidences and lead to look for suspects and the man was tyrannical enough to get himself a bunch of enemies, and it would take time to narrow them down. The CCTV cameras were disabled before the estimated time of the victims' death. The investigators concluded that it was a work of a professional, a very good and very angry one at that.
Dmitri was decisively bothered and tired when they got home. He went straight to his room and when he bumped into Kurapika on the hallway to the master's bedroom, he shot him a long, sharp and studying look. Kurapika easily recognized it as an accusatory look; he knew right then and there that their relationship as the boss and the employee was officially doomed.
And that just worsened Kurapika's condition.
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Two days prior to that eye contact, hours later after the fire was put out, Kurapika returned to Dmitri's manor, weary but visibly fine. Save for the eye bags and the despondent look in his eyes, he was more or less okay. Sleeplessness was what he reasoned out when Mitsuhiko asked him of why he looked like a zombie, while Senritsu spared him a worried look that said 'you are lying.' When Mitsuhiko prodded into his business even more and asked where he had gone, Kurapika said he just met someone for a talk. He even added that he got a bit drunk and he really just needed sleep despite not reeking of alcohol at all. Mitsuhiko bought all those crap, saying with a hint of smile that Kurapika turned out to be just another young adult doing things other people his age did; working his ass out during the day and drinking with buddies from time to time by night.
Senritsu was unconvinced and as expected, she made an attempt to approach Kurapika to ask what had his heart beat so unstable, melancholic and erratic like that.
"I've brought some pills to help your hangover," she called out from the door, holding a tray with glass of water and pills even though knowing they wouldn't be used.
"Come in," Kurapika replied, he had changed into his sleeping clothes, sitting on the bed and was about to get some more sleep when Senritsu entered. It brought a memory from before: when Senritsu played the flute for him after Kuroro raped him.
Senritsu was looking at him with very worried eyes, just like that time. She ambled closer to his bedside table and placed the tray on it.
"Kurapika," she began. "Are you—?"
"I'm fine," Kurapika responded even before Senritsu could finish the question.
"You know you can't lie to me," Senritsu answered back, matter-of-factly.
"Yes," Kurapika weakly smiled. "But I'm telling the truth. I'm alright. I might be going through something now but I can handle it just fine," Kurapika reached out for the offered pill and took it, downing the entire glass of water in one go.
"You met up with that man again, I assume?" Senritsu knowingly guessed, sitting next to him on the bed.
"Yeah," Kurapika dryly answered. He'd rather let her assume that it was just another session to prevent her from prying even more. "We've been doing it for some time and I'm still not used to it. We had an argument and things went violent. It was nothing, really. Just a slap on the face and he got to punch me on the stomach. I'm not going to die just from those," he mixed some truths and lies so Senritsu could at least detect that he wasn't outright lying.
"You're not telling the whole truth, are you?" As expected, Senritsu could see through him.
"It's not something I'm proud to tell anybody so yes, I'm not telling the whole truth."
"Do you need me to play the flute for you?"
"That would be unnecessary," Kurapika declined the offer with a faded smile. "You shouldn't waste your nen on me. The pill is enough; I'll just get some more rest. Thank you for your help, Senritsu. I apologize for bothering you as well."
"There you are again," Senritsu sighed, but her eyes were really understanding. "Not wanting to ask for help from others and handling it all on your own."
"Kuroro Lucifer is a dangerous man," Kurapika stated, voice low and eyes looking far away. "You know that too, Senritsu. I don't want to drag you in this mess more than I already had. I'm fine. I'm not dying. This I can say is true," lie, lie, lie. They both knew that he wasn't fine, that he was dying a slow, excruciating death, and that he was lying. But more than that, they both knew that Kurapika wouldn't spill the beans. Senritsu was a smart and understanding person: one look and she knew that whatever happened to him tonight was worse than the rape, and he wouldn't say anything about it to her likely for security and safety reasons.
"You just won't tell me anything about it, huh," Senritsu gave him a soft, comforting look.
"I'm sorry," Kurapika hung his head, dead set in keeping his mouth shut.
"Okay," finally, Senritsu gave up. "I'll leave you alone for now, but if you need someone to talk to, I'm just a whisper away," Senritsu resignedly sighed and jumped from the bed.
"I know," Kurapika nodded in thanks.
Senritsu then sauntered to the door but before she left, she glanced at Kurapika one more time and said, "This is something I'm sure you already know, but a human's heart has a limit of how much constraint it can take. Too much stress affects the body and may cause heart failure. You can die due to a broken heart, literally, so please attend to it as soon as you can. Yours seems to be in the verge of giving away. Please, Kurapika. Don't be so hard on yourself all the time," Senritsu softly and almost pleadingly remarked before disappearing behind his room's door.
'I'm sorry,' Kurapika repeated his apology to Senritsu in his mind.
This was unfair of him as a friend not only to Senritsu, but also to Gon, Killua and Leorio. But this was a kind of trouble and frustration he couldn't share to them. Not that he couldn't trust Senritsu about clamming up about it in case he did tell her what really happened, but given that Meniandro died and they might be overheard by somebody around the mansion, it wasn't wise to confess right now. Something in him was saying that he shouldn't confide to her. He didn't want to think about it let alone share it to anyone and pose danger to that person's life. Confiding wouldn't do anything. It wouldn't help him in any way at all right now.
He would keep this secret all to himself this time. It was for the best.
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Meniandro's death had caused more damage than Kurapika anticipated.
Dmitri, for starters, acted as though he knew Kurapika was the mastermind of Meniandro's demise. He never summoned Kurapika ever since coming home from his funeral. Most of the time, he and Senritsu were stationed to the entrance of the house or outside Dmitri's office, but he never got to go near his boss. This might as well be considered as an indirect demotion, and poor Senritsu was also being caught up in the mess.
New bodyguards were hired and some of them subtly looked at Kurapika as if he was a lurking threat, a wandering enemy permitted to loiter around and waiting to strike should he find an opening, and that they were just not allowed to take precaution perhaps they were ordered to lay low.
And Kurapika unfortunately couldn't do anything about it.
He was in an inexplicable state of disorientation nowadays. There were times that he would suddenly become unfocused or have trouble in concentrating. One time, he was dazed during his duty and he didn't realize that Mitsuhiko was standing next to him and talking for a whole minute until Mitsuhiko snapped him out of it by calling his name twice. He usually didn't have appetite or easily got full. He also found out that the sleeping quarters he was in was under surveillance—because he tended to wake up from shallow sleep or nightmares in the middle of the night.
There was a distinct set of auras emanating from one or two persons, presumably guards, near the door or walking around for patrols, almost every night, and Kurapika couldn't even go outside to get some fresh air since he was avoiding to be caught sneaking out in the midnight and ignite Dmitri's suspicion on him even more.
He had been enduring irregular sleeping patterns as well. There were a number of times he would bolt awake, panting with aura spiked and roiling about. In those chances, he would hurriedly deactivate his nen to prevent the guards and his other co-workers notice the change of his aura and draw commotion. After forcefully cancelling his nen, he'd curl up on his bed and lay awake for hours, trying to go back to sleep but simply couldn't. This deteriorated his system even more because he had come to detest something new other than Ryodan.
The darkness.
He didn't have problem sleeping with the lights off before, but now he did. The rustle of the sheets, the softness and warmth of the mattress, even the small creaks of the bed whenever he moved gave him eerie chills and made him restless and unable to fall asleep. They all made him remember that horrendous night. The darkness reminded him of the looming death behind cold, empty black eyes.
The days were empty and redundant; the nights were more hollowed and haunting. A week had passed and Kurapika realized that his hell didn't end yet like he thought. It was just getting started.
He wondered why Dmitri hadn't fired him despite losing all care and trust in him, but the answer wasn't elusive as it was simple: he was the last Kuruta. The last one. Should he let him go, he would lose a potential source of extra income, or a significant piece of irreplaceable, living artifact. Also, he could watch over his moves this way. If Kurapika somehow pulled off to kill more than thirty people in a night, he wouldn't find it hard to kill Dmitri's twenty along with him just as easily— thus he needed to keep an eye on him. This was going to be Dmitri's mindset if he indeed was suspecting Kurapika as the culprit of the tragedy.
Dmitri, Kurapika could tell, didn't know how to deal with him at the moment as much as Kurapika did to himself.
Kurapika would rather resign than to keep up with this crappy setup. His relationship with his boss was a hopeless case and there would be no merits in trying to gain his trust again. If this went on, his thin chance of getting the Kuruta eyes from his hands would be slimmer, and he had enough of relying on dirty ways because he couldn't afford it anymore, judging by his crippling sanity right now.
But he was afraid of the consequences if he did try to move out and find another job. Dmitri had all the means to take the eyes away from him; he highly doubted if Dmitri was willing to wait for him as he earned money to buy them off. There was also a possibility that Dmitri might hide the eyes because he couldn't let them go after all.
In normal instances, Kurapika could quickly think of next course of actions to take when facing this kind of dilemma. He could speak to Dmitri about the deal and defend himself from his suspicions. He could even use Meniandro's death as a ploy to threaten Dmitri to give up the eyes, or at least persuade him not to sell the eyes to somebody else or hide it somewhere he couldn't reach if push came to shove but no, he couldn't bring himself to do it because he was cowering in guilt. Fear for Dmitri's life was eating away his guts to move and do something about his current predicament. He couldn't find his voice and the right words to say; that he didn't kill Meniandro but he was the cause of it, and that Kuroro Lucifer might harm him too if he kept holding onto the Kuruta eyes. He couldn't come up with any plan, and hopelessness had been gnawing at him ever since Kuroro opened that Skill Book and had Indoor Fish hungrily chomped at Meniandro's body. He felt whatever he would say would be useless, and there wasn't he could do.
He felt so weak, succumbing into fear and depression like this. It was the same darkness he faced when he found out the massacre of his clan, but at the same time, it was different.
He couldn't let this go on. He didn't understand why he was losing his edge this way. He wasn't new with depression and bad dreams and had long learned how to deal with them but this time, it seemed it was an entirely different brand of depression and anxiety. The notion of death suddenly became scary to him, just like losing his burning rage towards Ryodan. He feared it and at the same time, he yearned for it. He didn't want to die in Kuroro's hands, but he did want for his misery and suffering to end soon.
Then how about ending it using his own hands?
That, too, also kept Kurapika awake at night. To die with his remaining dignity intact along with his eyes was a tempting idea. He was tired and hurting, and he thought he could never be strong enough to bring down the enemy. The life of a Mafia was too heavy for him. He was weak, and he didn't think he could be tough enough to continue, let alone finish his life goals. Dark thoughts had never consumed him this ruthlessly before and his weary heart, just like Senritsu had said, was likely just more beating before it completely waste away.
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One week turned to ten days, then ten turned into two weeks in a flash and in that span of time, he and Dmitri never had an interaction with each other. Dmitri didn't lay his eyes on him even once, and Kurapika was somehow relieved that at least his employer wouldn't see him in such pathetic condition.
Then there came his second day-off. It felt horrible taking a rest day when he felt like he didn't do anything productive within the whole week: Mitsuhiko had officially taken over his place as Dmitri's right hand and somebody else was in charge of the paper works Kurapika used to do whenever Dmitri wasn't dragging him anywhere. Mitsuhiko was at a loss of why Dmitri started to fling all of Kurapika's duties on him all of a sudden and even if he was having a hard time coping with the workload, he was doing his best. He would ask for Kurapika's advice now and then, and once he asked what was going on between him and Dmitri but all Kurapika could say was that he had let down Dmitri on one mission and now doubting his capabilities. Mitsuhiko didn't ask for more details, seeing Kurapika's reluctance in admitting his own incompetence and just continued to rely on Kurapika's help.
On his day-off, he decided to go somewhere remote to cool his head off in hopes it could help improve his mental burnout even just a bit. He was heading out of the mansion, watching if someone was tailing after him, when his phone beeped, bearing a message that robbed Kurapika's breath for a second. His face paled, and his chest clenched with his heart feeling like it was sinking down the endless abyss of despair.
No.
He couldn't confront him yet. The mere thought of him sent down nasty chills down his spine, had him shivering to the core and made him fear for his life— something that he rarely did.
Kurapika clutched at his phone upon seeing Kuroro's phone number on the screen.
'Let's meet tonight. 9PM.'