DISCLAIMER: Hunter X Hunter does not belong to me (but how I wish it does... [sigh] ) but to Yoshihiro Togashi's mind and wherever he got his inspiration in creating this really wonderful anime.

To all the reviewers of Sk8er Boi (you know who you are), thank you so much!

The second chapter is finally here! The three stories to be intertwined? One is HxH, of course… for the other two, I've already dropped some hints in the summary. This fic may turn out to be a little weird at first and please take note that the plot here does NOT completely follow any of the three said stories to give way to each other. Also, this is my first (and probably the last, I don't know, depends on my mood in the future) time writing a fic using the NxK pairing regardless of how slight it may or may not seem. Man, it's not that easy, not that I have anything against this couple. It's just Togashi never gave any hint that they are meant to be together and all. One more thing, the story is not, uh, how do I say this, stereotypical.

Many thanks to the people who reviewed the first chapter! I appreciate your reviews; sorry for making chapter 1 too long. Like I said before, I got carried away. I have this tendency to be long-winded and going overboard; anyway, I'll try to make the next chapters shorter. Thanks again! : )

OF WHAT TALES MAY BRING

ChApTeR 2

I can't stand this anymore.

Her pink sleeping clothes had already been taken care of. It was already morning, the start of another day.

Another day of broken promises.

And when there's a broken promise, there's a new department store waiting for me. Normally she would be thrilled at the chance to try out the new, and not to mention expensive, items her shopping sprees may take her and at the same time, make her forget the fact that her father had tricked her again. But she was already so tired of the same old routine; if she goes through this worn-out cycle one more time, she might drive herself crazy before her seventeenth birthday.

What was more, going through the same old routine meant going out with the same old bodyguards. Sure, she bore the title of a Princess so naturally her father had provided her with her own personal bodyguards to protect and defend her. But must they follow her everywhere? It was also hard for her to track her father down anytime because of them. They're always standing in my way. They always follow Papa's orders first before mine! "Don't let her out your sight." They sure take it literally!

There was a knock on her door. "Hime, may I come in?"

"Come in." Her answer came out flat.

The door opened, and entered a young woman clad in a pale lavender kimono. The minute the door was closed behind her, she bowed in respect, her light brown hair falling over her shoulders. "Your breakfast is ready, Hime."

The young girl slowly approached her bed. "Where's Papa?"

"The King had already left for some personal business."

"And what time is he coming back?"

"I'm very sorry, but I don't know, Hime."

Of course. Could I have expected anything else? This was so typical of her father. The girl sat on the side of her bed before her hand ran lightly along the rosy sheets. Last night she had overheard his plans of checking out some goods that will be auctioned somewhere in a few weeks' time. Or was that in a few days' time? She wasn't sure; her father had been successful at confusing her with the date. Yet she had managed to persuade him by all means that she could. All the times that she had begged, pleaded to the point of whining and trashing out the room, perfected during the past years… They did come in handy most of the time. Last night, her father had promised to take her wherever he was supposed to go for the auction items.

And today, first thing in the morning, that promise was broken. Again. She had already expected that.

Just by thinking about this piece of fact, she felt she just lost her appetite. But she couldn't show it now. She had to show that everything is fine with her. If she screwed up, her plan will crash down into nothing before it even started. "Just bring my food here, Eliza. I don't feel like eating all by myself in the dining hall."

"As you wish, Hime." Eliza bowed again before leaving the room.

The girl pulled out a brush from her vanity drawer and ran its soft bristles on her long pink tresses. For all I know, Papa could be lying to me again. Maybe he won't really check the items today but tomorrow. It couldn't be impossible; after all, her father had already done this trick to her once. She had never believed in what people called the trusting of one's gut but she felt it was telling her that what she was thinking was a big possibility. Well he cannot trick me anymore. She will pretend to be her usual shopping self today as to not arise the suspicion of anyone who was supposed to look out for her and then sleep early tonight.

Because she needed all the energy she can get to execute her plan. To lose all her bodyguards the following day and find the place where her father will be, all by herself.

For she was Neon Nostrard after all. And what Neon wants…

Neon gets.

The air was completely still as Leorio opened his eyes. I fell asleep again.

He lifted his head before staring momentarily at his crossed arms that were resting on his knees. On the spot where he was sitting was green grass, still not moving because of the absence of a breeze. Uncountable graves surrounded him. White candles continued to give off their own light, untouched, defeated by the morning sun. Lying beside them were brown flowers gathered by plastic wrappers, all dried and wilted. Today had been no different from last week. Or the many months before that.

Pietro was still dead.

Leorio closed his eyes, then slowly opened them. Here he was again, visiting his friend's grave every other four days since the day Pietro was buried. At first the dead and dull silence had given him the creeps; the world outside the cemetery was full of life, a complete contrast to the despondency the atmosphere above a ground full of graves brought. But Leorio knew this was the only place where he could really communicate with his deceased friend, without anyone disturbing him or thinking he was someone with an unsound mind. By now he had grown used to what he had originally thought was an eerie air. To him, it was rather kind of peaceful.

If only Pietro had left him in the same state.

"Pietro," Leorio uttered softly. With one knee he knelt down before his friend's grave, the same sorrow he had felt a few years ago washing over him again. The rest of the cemetery was devoid of any people, and Leorio felt the same way: empty.

The same thoughts that played in his head over and over again each month, no, each day, were now making him recall that fateful moment once more, the moment when death took his friend away from the threads of life.

"What should I do now? Pietro?" Leorio asked although he was bitterly sure that his friend would not respond. How could he, when he was already several meters below the ground? "I had sworn before this grave a long time ago that I'll be a doctor no matter what. But..."

Everything's still the same. I may never become a doctor at all. That dream seemed to become more and more out of my reach each day.

His mind raced back to the days when he and Pietro were both happy. Were both family to each other. Were practically brothers who can tell each other anything. Leorio had aspired to become a doctor someday, and his close friend had been encouraging him, willing to support him in anyway that he could. Both had promised to help each other no matter what, and they had led their perfectly normal lives. Until that disease.

Until the Sheriff became King.

Leorio slowly closed his eyes, each scene playing before his mind's eye becoming clearer and clearer. He was still a medical student when that disease had fallen upon Pietro. Fortunately, he had found a formal doctor who was able to assess his friend's health. He told me that Pietro had been lucky enough to have his condition checked before everything became completely out of control. But by that time, the doctor had provided only one solution for Pietro: an operation. Nothing else. The problem was that it required an amount of money that neither Pietro nor Leorio had ever seen in their entire lives.

The problem meant double pressure for Leorio. He didn't have that kind of amount; he had to work for at least two jobs just to compensate for his studies in medicine and study religiously to achieve his dream. But Pietro's life was in danger if he let his selfishness take over his being. Besides, he had no intention of breaking his promise; he was willing to give up his time just for true friendship. So he had worked for every job he could find, not caring if he never slept, not caring if it drained every ounce of energy out of him. If every drop of sweat and blood that he shed would mean saving Pietro's life, then he was more than willing to allow his body, his soul, to throw itself completely into work.

Finally, his efforts were starting to yield their fruits. What started as a little amount of money slowly grew larger and larger as Leorio piled up all his saved salaries. Soon not only would he be able to pay for the operation fee, he would be able to continue his studies smoothly.

That would have been possible if the former King hadn't left. And if the Sheriff hadn't taken over.

The emptiness in his heart was suddenly replaced by burning anger. Nostrard, that bastard… he doesn't deserve his position! No amount of greed can compare to that he possesses, that- that—

Leorio willed his tongue to remain still to prevent himself from spitting out all the strings of curses that he could think of as he stood up. If he was going to curse and condemn the present King, Pietro's grave was not the right place to do it. The anger inside forced another picture of ugly memories in his mind's eye.

If Light Nostrard had been money-hungry when he was still a Sheriff, his hunger increased at least twofold when he gained the title of "King." That was why Leorio abhorred that particular rule in the land that enabled this, of all things, to happen. Unlike other continents, countries or regions, the land where he was born had no destined rulers, no leaders, only titles and rules started by many generations before him. Freedom, they say. Yeah right. Whoever had the most influence, power or wealth automatically had the right to proclaim himself King, or Queen if the person happened to be a female, and make it known to the public. Such title meant enormous control of anything and power to do anything whether good or bad, regardless of the already set rules. Meanwhile people of less influence or power had lower ranks; it was no wonder they compete and fight each other to death. The King when Nostrard was still Sheriff treated us like real humans. I wish he hadn't left!

For Leorio was almost able to meet the amount of money required for the operation fee. Almost. Then suddenly the present King had impost the law of heavy taxes to every home. Despite Leorio's protests, the King's men had forced him to give up all the money he had saved for Pietro and himself. As a result, he was forced to stop studying medicine and, worse, the operation wasn't continued. Leorio could do nothing while watching Pietro die in his deathbed.

I know you can hear me, Pietro. Our world has even become poorer after you left. Especially since the King is taking pleasure with the people's money. Our money. But none of us can do anything about it! His hands balled into fists, shaking. "I don't get it. Why is it that the world is so cruel? Why do poor people get even poorer while the rich take the little amount that belongs to them? Why?"

He was answered by silence.

If only he hadn't taken away our money, if only I could have done something to stop him, Pietro would be alive today! I'll make that bastard Nostrard eat dirt! he cursed in his mind.

But a sudden flash of an image that shot right through his head removed all thoughts of hatred. Dizziness took Leorio momentarily, causing him to stumble back. What the hell was that? he wondered, shaking his head to clear his mind. The image was too fast and vague for him to see a good picture. I think I need to get some rest.

"I'll come back again after a few days," he softly said, his eyes trained on Pietro's grave. "Rest in peace, Pietro." With that, he turned around and started to walk away.

The exit of the cemetery wasn't too far away, so Leorio decided to take his time walking. Carefully he avoided stepping on the unmarked graves that were almost concealed with tangled vines, wondering at the same time how the loved ones left by the dead could just leave the burial ground forsaken. But it was no wonder if the reason was lack of money. I am fortunate enough to give Pietro a proper burial. The last two words lingered in his mind, making him contemplate. Will I have one when it's already my time?

Then there was that sudden image again. Leorio stopped in his tracks. This time it was clearer; the scene showed himself running inside some sort of a tunnel and there were several hundreds of people with him. The tunnel seemed to stretch forever. Wait a minute. What would I be doing in a long tunnel like that?

Just forget it, Leorio. It was probably nothing. Besides, he cannot waste his time wondering about something that was probably a figment of his imagination when he had more important things to do. Satisfied with his logic, Leorio shrugged slightly and continued to walk toward the exit.

Kurapica, Gon! Don't enter! There are many snakes inside! Leorio stopped, feeling his heart pumping blood in a faster rate. In his mind's eye he saw himself inside some kind of an underground cave, with a green-haired girl protesting. There were two faint voices shouting his name and before he knew it, he felt fangs sink in his skin.

Leorio involuntarily shuddered, feeling surprise and terror shot at the memory. Although he couldn't explain why, he felt the phantom bites as though they were real. As though it really happened to him before. Had he been inside a cave with snakes inside? When? Why? This was so confusing. What is happening to me?

And more importantly... Who are Kurapica and Gon?

"Where are you going again, Curarpikt-sama?"

Curarpikt stopped. And here I thought I had gone unnoticed. She really has sharp eyes. Slowly he turned around to face a young girl with big green eyes and waist-long wavy blond hair gathered by a scarlet ribbon.

"I'll just take a walk outside," he answered, smiling.

The girl slightly frowned as she walked to him, and he noticed the worry in her eyes. "But I thought His Highness wants you to practice with your twin swords. And the Queen notices you often leave the region nowadays. We don't want you to get hurt or anything, Curarpikt-sama."

"Cana, I told you already that you can call me plain Curarpikt when no one else is around. Don't worry about me; I'll come back as soon as I get fresh air, I promise. Go back and tell Otousan that I just went outside and I'll practice again as soon as I come back."

Like always she knelt down on one knee before him in respect and bowed her head. "Yes, Curarpikt-sam... Curarpikt."

"Hey." On her shoulder he placed a hand that made her look up with meek eyes. "You don't need to do this," he said gently. "Now, also tell Okaasan that if I'm not yet back within two hours, she should not worry; I can take care of myself."

Again she bowed her head. "Yes."

Her tone, although it was meant to be polite, had a hint of doubt and worry. "What's the matter?"

"Uh—nothing, sir. But... "

Curarpikt waited patiently.

"I—I don't mean to be rude but... is this still okay, the way you want me to address you, I mean? I'm sorry, but I'm not really sure anymore."

"I'm a prince. I can have my own say on the things I decide."

She did not say anything.

He studied her face for a while. "Do you really want to know, Cana?"

Cana raised her head in surprise. "But you don't have to completely answer my question, sir. It's not necessary to do it anyway."

"You can drop the 'sir.'"

"I'm sorry. I'm not comfortable without saying it."

Curarpikt looked behind him where the houses of his people were built. "I changed my mind."

"What...?"

"Come with me."

"But... I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble..."

"Cana, we've been friends ever since I was ten and it doesn't matter to me whether or not you know how to use a weapon."

"But…"

"That's an order."

She remained silent for a while, then gave a little smile. "Yes."

"Good," Curarpikt said. "We'll be back in an hour or so. I'll explain to Otousan everything so that you won't get into trouble. Just remember this, Cana. I want you to treat me just like everyone else when we're alone, not as a prince but as a friend. Can you do that?"

Cana nodded.

"All right. Let's go."

"Okay." Immediately she got up and ran to his side.

It's been quite a long time since I walked with her. Curarpikt glanced at the ten-year-old girl with him while heading outside the entrance through foot. As the child of the ruler of the Kuruta tribe, his childhood days had been lonely for him. Sure, he had lessons on proper manners and learning, he had his training and his parents had provided him playmates to keep him company, but the loneliness wasn't due to boredom or idle time. Nobody seemed to notice it, but in a way, he had been secretly envious of other children because they had their own brothers or sisters. Curarpikt did not even have a single sibling.

But then he had met Cana at the age of ten. During one time when he had nothing to do, he had accidentally found her one time crying by herself under a tree and tried to comfort her. When she finally smiled, he had felt a strange feeling of pride of accomplishing something great. Before he knew it, they had already started to become friends.

Years passed by, and their friendship still continued, despite the fact that Cana's father worked under Curarpikt's father in his activities, which would normally make her servant material. But for Curarpikt, Cana was already like a sister to him. And more than that, she was the only one Curarpikt knew he could really call a friend, despite their status and age gap. He didn't care even if nobody would believe that for everyone expected a prince to be always around only people in the same level as his. He never approved of it though; it was something blocking the real way of communication with others.

"One more thing I forgot to ask you."

"Um, what is it?"

"You really got too much used to saying my name politely, didn't you?"

"I really should be doing that, Curarpikt-sa—Curarpikt. I am after all several years younger than you." Cana quickened her steps to catch up with Curarpikt's short strides. "Can I at least add -kun to your name? I'm really not used to what you want me to do."

Curarpikt let out a chuckle. "If you're comfortable with that, then why not?"

Cana beamed.

"I take it you want to play it safe?"

The young blonde nodded. "I was caught by my mother one time calling you plainly by your name. She got mad and told me not to be rude to you again whenever we are talking. And she yelled at me that although you may be a friend to me, I should never forget that you are also the son of our ruler, and that I'm still under your command. I mean, even though we've been doing this before, now you have training and responsibilities to do, so we never get to talk anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"No! You don't have to apologize. I understand the reason. I've been busy on my own way too."

"No, I want to, for making you feel that way."

They remained silent while strolling their way toward a nearby forest. Neither of them minded the comfortable silence for they were taking in the view of hundreds of tall trees before them. They passed through the unmarked entrance as a soft breeze played with their flaxen hair, creating a slow cascade of sailing green leaves to shower above them at the same time.

"Curarpikt-kun?" Cana said out of a sudden.

Curarpikt glanced at her. "What is it?"

"I just want to ask you something personal, that is, if you don't mind."

"Go on."

"What makes you want to be called simply by your name? I mean, my father told me before that princes of other regions would expect people like me to kneel before them or do everything they say. They do have the power to send disrespectful servants to prison until they rot, don't they? I can't help noticing you're very different from them."

His green eyes scanned the woody area and he gently directed Cana to the foot of a substantial tree. She cast him an expectant look.

"This sounds really unbelievable but the truth is," he began while they sat on the ground, "I sometimes wish I were a common person."

Cana's young face stated shock but Curarpikt wasn't surprised. He had already expected this kind of reaction. "But why? You have everything and yet you want to be someone ordinary?"

He nodded. "You're a little too young to grasp this, but I understand. My being a prince does not mean everything is going smoothly for me. People have to be formal around me, even those around my age. Sometimes it becomes so stiff, it irritates me."

"Does His Highness know anything about this?"

"He doesn't, and I don't want to bother him. He has a lot of other things to worry about; I don't want to add it to his list." Curarpikt remembered how even his childhood playmates now give him special treatment. Couldn't he experience life as an ordinary Kuruta even for just one day?

But you really are an ordinary Kuruta, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. All throughout your life you have been, remember?

Curarpikt blinked. Ordinary? Even though the voice was faint, it also sounded powerful and calm, like it belonged to a different Curarpikt. The word floated lightly in his mind.

"What's wrong?"

He snapped back to attention and saw Cana looking worriedly at him. "It's nothing."

The worry in her face shifted to doubt, and Curarpikt tried to erase it with a reassuring smile. It worked.

"This is a nice place for thinking deeply," she commented, sounding awed. "Why hadn't I gone here before?"

I'm wondering the same thing too. He extended one leg and folded the other to hug it with his arms, resting his chin at the top of his knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cana toying with the green grass happily with her fingers. It is peaceful and quiet here. As he surveyed the area, he noticed that the forest seemed to spread out forever. It seemed endless, just like the cloudless azure sky brightened by the sun above him. The atmosphere seemed light; Curarpikt could feel it smoothly easing his tension. Surprisingly nature had a way of pacifying someone. Slowly he inhaled and calmly closed his eyes.

But when his green orbs opened, he saw nothing but pure darkness. Somewhere there was a faint sound of an object rustling and clicking against itself continuously. Something that sounded like metal. The rustling grew louder slowly, until Curarpikt can name its definite sound; blindly he extended his right index finger, feeling like under some trance. Chain…?

Before he knew it, something long shot out from his finger like magic. He moved his hand to face him, and felt his other fingers shooting out chains as well. Curarpikt could hear the links of the chains still clicking against each other as he felt cold metal dancing around his right wrist before starting to wound itself on his arm...

"Curarpikt-kun?"

His eyes snapped open, breaking the spell. He blinked twice, realizing that he was back in the quiet forest again. He shook his head.

"Curarpikt-kun?" Cana's voice sounded a little bit strained.

Curarpikt faced her to see the slightly scared expression on her face. "What's the matter? You seemed a little tense."

"Your right hand..."

My hand? He caught sight of something silvery-gray clutching it. His eyebrows knitted together, he held up his hand before him.

"What the—How did it happen?" he asked aloud with a look of disbelief. There was a ring in each of his fingers, and each chain attached to each ring was wrapped around his wrist. Curarpikt tried to pull the chains off but none of them even broke. With his left hand he pulled up his long white sleeve to find the rest of his arm entirely wrapped with metal links. That vision… does it have something to do with this? It was as though the chains just… materialized out of nowhere.

"Can I do anything to help?" Cana asked.

"Thank you but I can handle this." If my hands can't break them, then maybe my swords will, he decided, pulling out his weapons from under his cloak. He positioned one blade next to the first chain but he was about to cut it when the blade broke.

My sword! His eyes widened in bewilderment as he picked up the shattered blade. I don't know what exactly is going on but obviously something is way off here. Curarpikt carefully placed the blade down.

But the moment his hand touched the ground, he saw an image quickly appear in his mind, causing him to recoil.

"Curarpikt-kun! What happened?"

Curarpikt was dazed. "What was that?" He tried to replay what he just saw and visualize it. It was a flash but he saw everything in the picture. A light haired man with slit eyes, cards, myself holding the swords... where is the other sword? And why are we in battle stance inside a huge room?

Then a series of images flashed again. This time he saw his hands cupped around a stemmed glass of water with a green leaf floating on the surface. There was a chunk of crystal inside and he turned around to face a man with dark bangs spilled across his forehead. The last image that flashed horrified him and terror filled his heart, for he saw many houses set on fire, flames that were licking the structures hungrily while dancing toward the darkened sky. Terrified screams of the women and children of Kuruta were mingling with each other. Men were fighting but ruby liquid stained their clothes, and the ground was heavily covered with lifeless bodies swimming in their own liquid of life.

"No!" he shouted in the quiet forest, his heart hammering a rhythm five times faster than usual. Beads of sweat were forming at his temple and he still couldn't get over the image stubbornly lingering in his mind. What did I just see? The future? Why did I see my people... dying?

"Curarpikt-kun!" Cana looked really alarmed. "What's happening to you?"

Curarpikt clutched his head with his chained hand, his body trembling all over. "I—I..." He fell on his knees and stared at the ground.

"Curarpikt-kun! Please, answer me!"

"Kuruta... getting killed..." he managed to say between gasps. Upon hearing his answer, Cana's face went white.

Then slowly the horrible scene faded away and another image replaced it but this time in a form of a word: nen.

Nen?

Ren... Ten... Zetsu... Hatsu... Gyou... En... In... the same voice that he had heard a while ago chanted in perfect rhythm over and over again. Curarpikt couldn't hear anything else. He couldn't hear the chirping of the birds or the breeze anymore. All his ears were catching were the words continuously ringing in his head. The more he listened to the chanting, the larger his confusion grew.

Suddenly the chanting stopped but Curarpikt caught the last word. Gugenka.

Nen? Gyou? Gugenka? What do these words mean? What are also these things I'm seeing? What on earth is really going on? He shook his head, his blond hair sailing back and forth.

"Are you all right, Curarpikt-kun?" The concern in Cana's voice was unmistakable.

Curarpikt snapped out of it and inhaled deeply before releasing his breath. "I'm all right." He shut his eyes, trying to get control of himself. First he needed answers. Looks like I'll have to find a fortuneteller right away. But no one in Kuruta knows how to predict the future. I have to do something. Then an idea entered his mind. "Cana, we're going home now. I need to pack."

Cana seemed taken aback. "O-Okay. But what are you planning to do?"

"I have to go and find out something." I cannot waste time; I really have to go and find him. Or her. Even if it means I have to leave Kuruta now.

This is great, Killua thought in sarcasm the following day. He skated farther on the two-way road, eyeing the carpets of fresh grass he passed. How duller could this day get? I don't even have anyone to play with! Nobody would even come near me.

It had been a few days since he left Kukulu Mountain. I wonder if anyone has noticed that I was already gone. I hope they haven't. He thought about it. Yeah right. If only they would stop dictating me, I may not have done this in the first place.

Born in the Zaoldyeck family, the older members of Killua's family had practically stamped ASSASSIN on his forehead. When he had reached the age of three, his training to endure all forms of torture and hardships started and still continued up to now. Killua managed to display magnificent talent and skill to the point that he already had exceeded his father and grandfather's expectations of him. But then, everyone, except Caltt, started telling him his own expectations, demanding him incessantly to do everything he says for his own benefit, until Killua got fed up accepting everything they say. He was so sick and tired of everyone telling him how to run his life and had to quarrel with them just to defend what he thought.

When his mother told him that he was going to start training soon on how to finish off people quickly, that had been the last straw. Upon reaching the first year of his teen life, a Zaoldyeck will receive the actual training to not feel any mercy, to learn life-taking skills, everything that a professional assassin should learn. Killua was still twelve years old. Where did his family go off like that, insisting that the training should start right away even before he turned thirteen? They actually looked forward to making him kill, to murder. And he was turning thirteen in a few weeks. Disgusted, he had secretly run away from home before any Zaoldyeck could think of an idea to make him agree with the tradition.

Now Killua was felt like regretting his decision. News about his family must had spread like wildfire, because everywhere he went people withdrew their children away from him, returned their animals to their proper places and shut their homes. Nobody wanted to be near him. Killua had seen only one emotion in their eyes: fear. One thing that had irritated him was that the rumors he heard were actually magnified, most of them practically made up by people who probably heard about the Zaoldyeck clan secondhand and didn't even get the story straight.

Also, there was the fact that everything outside the last town he had gone to was awfully quiet. Killua could swear he had seen more excitement watching his nails grow longer. If there was anything more pathetic than dying without putting up a fight, it was death by sheer boredom. There's nothing exciting here. I might as well go somewhere else.

He was about to change direction when his black eyes spotted a lone figure walking quickly ahead of him. Toward him. Killua raised his brows and decided to continue skating to get a better look. Finally, a person to play with after all this time.

When they were about to cross paths, the stranger suddenly looked at him with a question in her, no, his green eyes, although his face was composed. Killua stepped down on the ground to stop his skateboard and returned the look with a neutral expression, knowing the stranger was about to ask him something. Oh well, might as well beat him to it. "Oniisan," he called out casually. "What's the hurry?" He took note of his blond hair that fell shortly below his ears and his dark wine coatlike garment outlined in pale violet. On the stranger's right shoulder hung a slightly large sling bag. He doesn't look like he's from around here.

The blond stopped. "Listen, I know you don't know me but can you tell me where I can find the nearest fortuneteller?"

"A fortuneteller?" Killua thought hard for a while. "Sorry, I have no idea."

"Oh." The blond looked a little bit disappointed, Killua noted, before regaining composure. "Well, thank you anyway." He turned his head before starting to walk away from the Zaoldyeck.

Hmm. Killua stared at the back of the stranger's head, an idea beginning to form in his mind. "Wait, I just recalled something."

The stranger stopped in his tracks and turned around. "You know someone?"

"No, but there is a region ahead of you belonging to some Light Nostrard. I heard someone there knows how to predict the future," he answered, crossing his fingers behind his back. The name really existed because his father mentioned it once before; in fact, Killua had decided to skip exploring that region for some reason. One thing was for sure, though. He definitely didn't have any idea if a fortuneteller did exist there. But that was where the fun was. He hid his amusement behind a straight face.

The stranger looked ahead of him, then back at Killua. "How accurate is this fortuneteller?"

"People say she's awesome! None of her predictions have ever failed her, not even once!" Killua's face was a perfect picture of awe, eyes widened and all as he let his voice be that of one truly impressed.

"I see." The blond stared at him for a while, then nodded. "Thank you for the information."

Killua tried to suppress his grin. "Anytime."

The blond started to go on his own way and Killua pushed his feet against the ground to start skating on his own path. That went well. There was nothing better than playing tricks on a complete stranger to cure his boredom while being alone in a lonely road. He continued riding on his skateboard when suddenly a flash in his head startled him.

"Woah, hold it." He set his foot to put the skateboard to a halt. "What was that?" He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind.

It's probably nothing, he decided, stuffing his hands inside the front pockets of his midnight blue shorts.

Then something flashed in Killua's mind, this time clear enough for him to get the picture. In his mind's eye he saw a blond teenager holding up his right hand, a long chain dangling with a small dagger at its end. Killua had never seen a shade of red as brilliant, not to mention also as deadly, as that of the teenager's eyes.

Freaky... but interesting. The light-haired boy's dark eyes danced, remembering the stranger he had crossed paths just a while ago. Except for the color of the eyes, his features were unmistakably exact to that of the guy he had seen in his mind. Yeah, very interesting indeed. He slightly raised his foot and maneuvered his skateboard to a hundred and eighty degree swirl before riding again on a straight line. "Hey, oniisan!"

The blond stopped walking and turned around, watching as Killua caught up with him. "Is there anything that you want?" he asked while Killua circled around him before stopping his skateboard.

"Nothing, really," Killua answered, stuffing again one hand in his front pocket. "I just thought you might need company along the way. You don't want to get lost finding Nostrard's region now, do you?"

"No, I guess not." The blond turned his attention back at the road ahead of him. "Feel free if you want to join me."

"I guess I'm taking up that offer." Killua started riding on his skateboard while the blond just kept on traveling by foot. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.

"May I ask you something?" the blond spoke after a while.

Killua turned his attention at him, his pale hair sailing in the air. "Shoot."

"Are you really going to take me to the right place or mislead me again?"

"Mislead? What on earth are you talking about?"

"You're good at hiding the truth but it's so obvious to me that you're lying."

For a while Killua thought of acting shocked at such a statement but then decided to forget it. His scheme had just been uncovered, and this guy was so good at doing it. "You know, you're one of the few people who can see through my words. How did you figure out the whole thing?"

"Through your eyes."

Killua was puzzled. "My eyes?"

The blond nodded, his green eyes still focused ahead of him. "The eyes never lie. You know how to keep a straight face or to act impressed when you lied. But basically I was paying more attention to how your eyes behave. I saw a hint of mischief there, and I figured you must be planning to play a trick on me. Am I correct?"

Impressive. This time Killua was genuinely amazed. "There is no way of fooling you, huh?"

"Is that how you see it?"

He shrugged slightly. "I guess." Killua observed his companion in the corner of his eye. There is something really familiar about this guy. He thought hard of all the times he had been brought outside Kukulu mountain, of all the people he had met before, figuring that he may had seen his blond companion in the past. But he came up with nothing. This is getting odd.

"So, what's the real reason for joining me?" the blond stranger asked, walking a little faster.

"I don't know really... okay, this sounds weird but I just felt we have met before, though I can't remember where or when." This time Killua was telling the truth, no questions asked.

"Strange..."

"What?"

"I don't know how... but I think I've seen you before too."

Surprise took Killua. "Really? So you think it's fate or something?"

"I don't know, but we'll find out later when we find a fortuneteller. If we can find one, that is." The stranger gave Killua a pointed look.

"Fine, fine." Killua raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "So I lied about the fortuneteller. But there is a Light Nostrard who exists. Who knows, you may see someone who can see the future in his region. What do you have to lose?"

"Lots of time, I suppose."

Killua rolled his dark eyes. "Come on, you know what I mean."

"All right, nothing, if we'll make our trip a little faster than this." With these words the blond's feet moved faster to speed up his walking.

"No problem." Killua pushed his foot harder against the ground to increase speed. "Hey, oniisan, you do have a name, right? So what is it?"

"Curarpikt. What's yours?"

Killua tried to wipe the mischievous grin forming in his face. "Yellmi."

"Stop lying."

"All right already." Darn, this guy is too sharp. "It's Killua."

"A fortuneteller, you say? Why yes, as a matter of fact there is one here."

Killua felt his jaw drop. He hadn't expected his lie to be proved true so soon! He and Curarpikt were already inside the region and were asking for information from one of the residents.

Curarpikt cleared his throat. "Can you tell me where I can find him? I'm kind of in a hurry."

The thin thirty-plus guy in front of them pointed ahead of him. "The fortuneteller I'm talking about is a girl. She happens to be the daughter of the King here. If you want to see her just go there."

Killua couldn't help noticing how the man practically spat the word "King" in disgust. Grudge? "The Princess herself is a fortuneteller?" He let out a whistle. "Her father must be so lucky."

"You have no idea," the resident muttered darkly under his breath but Killua managed to catch his words. Why did this man seem to hate his King so much?

"Well then, I'm going now. Thank you for the information," Curarpikt said.

"No problem." The guy sounded like he hadn't meant what he just said, as though something in their conversation just made him suddenly tired. "Good luck."

Killua turned his head around and his dark eyes stayed on the man even as he and Curarpikt parted ways with him. What did he just mean by that? He focused his attention again on the houses along the way. Wait, why do I even care?

"What are you planning to do now?"

Killua shrugged his shoulders to answer Curarpikt's question. Initially he had wanted to find out the connection of his vision to the blond but the images had stopped appearing in his head since he had accompanied him. He was beginning to lose interest. "Hmm, maybe explore this land a little? I don't have anything important to do anyway. How about you? You're going to meet the Princess?"

"I have to."

"Whatever you say." Killua tilted his head slightly to get a better view of what was ahead of them. "Hey look, the street is splitting in three." Let's see… I think the right one will do. "I'm going to take the right street. I assume you're going straight ahead?"

"That's right."

After a few minutes, they reached the point where all four paths met. "Well then, I'm off now." Without waiting for another word from Curarpikt, he took the right street and began to walk, carrying his green skateboard tucked under his arm.

More than half an hour later, Killua found himself walking among busy customers whose eyes were glued on the goods spread along the wide lane. It seemed to be some sort of a marketplace; vendors were calling out to people passing by to take a look at their wares, and people crowded under tentlike sheets that represent the extent of the seller's booth. Nobody seemed to be paying attention at him; in fact, nobody seemed to notice him at all, unlike the grand entrance he had made hours ago. It doesn't look like they've heard of us or they're too busy buying and selling stuff to take notice. Killua felt the corners of his mouth lift a little while surveying his surroundings. Either way was just fine with him.

Suddenly he stopped when his eyes caught sight of a figure ahead of him at the exit about nine to twelve meters away. Killua took a step closer and narrowed one eye at what had caught his attention. Although the figure's back was facing him, he recognized that straight-cut black hair that was a little above the shoulders. What is Caltt doing here? Then realization hit him. His mother must have sent his younger brother to convince him to go home, no doubt. Well I'm not going to do it. He stared at the boy. Since when did his brother wear a pale blue dress? Probably to catch me off guard because I supposedly can't recognize him. Too bad he already failed on that department.

Killua was about to turn around when he noticed a young man approach Caltt with a look of confusion on his face. Killua couldn't hear what he was saying though. He watched as the man showed something to Caltt and he took it as though to take a closer look. Soon they were both engaged in a conversation.

Suddenly out of the corner of his dark eye, Killua caught a swift movement from the right side. It was another young guy, and he was heading toward Caltt, one carefully hidden hand on his side that couldn't be seen by an ordinary person except by Killua's eyes. He's up to no good. Caltt must have sensed it by now. He made no move to see how his brother will handle the oncoming situation.

The speeding man quickly shot his hand in and out of the pocket of Caltt's skirt as he ran past the boy. But to Killua's surprise and shocked amazement, his brother didn't even seem to notice that he had just been robbed, still talking to the first young man as though nothing had happened. How could you have not even felt it, Caltt? he felt like shouting at him.

The first man suddenly began to run away toward the exit of the market, and Caltt's hand flew to his pocket. He whirled to his left and began to run after the two men while yelling things that sounded like, "Thief!" and "Help!"

Killua watched in disbelief as Caltt sped away. Caltt, you're too slow! You're supposed to be the most nimble of us all! True, his brother was a few years younger than him but he was running as fast as an average teenager and his agility failed the requirement as the speed of a Zaoldyeck. At this rate and with the continuously widening distance between them, Caltt will never be able to catch up with the robbers. Killua sighed as he dropped his skateboard into position and stepped his right foot on it. Guess I have to lend him a hand on this.

He pushed his left foot against the ground to start moving. The moment the wheels rolled forward, he made the movement faster and faster until his quickly increasing speed made everything a blur. Killua's white hair swept backward while he felt himself whizzing past Caltt. When he was about to go past the two young men, he smirked while maneuvering his skateboard around them to cut their chase short. When he completed his circle, he made a point of stopping his skateboard in front of them just a few feet away. "You seem to be having much fun," he uttered casually. "Can I join your little game?"

The man who had snatched from Caltt's pocket narrowed one eye at him. "Who the hell are you?"

Killua shrugged nonchalantly. "Just a nobody. Actually, I'm looking for a playmate or more. And guess what, I finally found two of them, and they're in front of me right now!"

The first man took a few steps toward him menacingly. "Get lost, kid, or you're going to have—Hey, where is he?"

"Right behind you." Killua's hand made a chop at the back of the robber's neck, causing the latter to collapse silently to the ground. "You're it. Aw, you're already tired? It's no fun anymore!" He turned to face the second man and pasted a grin. "Hey, oniisan, can you continue the game for him?"

The second robber's face paled by a shade. "W-What did you do to him?"

"I don't know. I tagged him and he just fell." Killua let his dark eyes travel up and down the man's profile, scanning any bulge in his clothing. "No, I just made him go to sleep. Now, let's change the game." He finally spotted a rectangular form bulging somewhere in the waistline of the man's dark brown pants. "I'm in the mood for hide-and-seek. And I'm looking for something that was snatched from someone's pocket. I hope you hid it well." And before the robber could notice it, the Zaoldyeck had already gone behind him. Killua let his right hand strike the back of the man's neck just like what he did to the first robber. The man moaned a little before falling to the ground.

There were sounds of footsteps quickly approaching, and Killua turned to see Caltt running toward him. Caltt slowed down when he was just a few more meters away from Killua, and the latter watched him fall on his knees while panting and gasping for breath.

Caltt gasping for breath?

Puzzled, Killua left the two unconscious robbers, picked up his skateboard and walked toward the young boy. His face was lowered to face the ground, his black hair covering his face. The moment Killua reached Caltt's spot, he looked down at the younger Zaoldyeck. "What's happening to you, Caltt! How could you let two ordinary fools get away with robbing you of whatever they took from you, huh?"

"I—"

"But don't answer that question first," Killua cut him off. "Tell me what you're doing here. Have you been following me around or did you come because our mother told you to fetch me? Answer me Caltt, and it better be the truth."

"But my name is not Caltt!" the boy protested, looking up. "Who are you?"

Killua blinked as the young brunet got up on his feet. The white-haired boy stared hard at his—no, her face, bewildered at his mistake. He—She isn't Caltt. But—but they look so similar! The resemblance was incredible. The young girl, whom he guessed was around ten to twelve years old, had the same straight-cut black hair and the spread bangs that his younger brother had. But now that Killua could see a closer look, the girl's face was framed by locks of hair that curved inward as they reached her collarbone. Her big round eyes reminded him of smoke, unlike Caltt's slightly almondlike eyes that were a shade of violet. When his gaze fell on the girl's light blue dress, which was actually a jumper over her long-sleeved white blouse, he felt like kicking himself. Of course Caltt would never wear anything like this. How could I forget that I always see him in a kimono?

"What are you looking at?"

Killua blinked again, recovering. "Sorry. I mistook you for somebody else." To hide his embarrassment, he walked away from her and headed toward the two thieves lying on the ground, trying to appear like he was looking for the stolen object. Kneeling down, he yanked the second man's forest green shirt and pulled out a folded wallet that had printed cherry blossoms at the right side. "Is this the one he took from you?" He raised his hand to hold it out to her.

The girl ambled to him. "My wallet!" Gratefully she took it from Killua's hand and bowed down thankfully. "Thank you very much!"

"It's nothing. So, you didn't notice that you were already being robbed? You look like you're in a deep conversation with him." He jerked his thumb on the first young man.

The dark-haired girl's face flushed slightly with embarrassment. "I didn't feel it. Everything happened so fast. He was asking me for directions because he said he got lost while following the map he showed me. The next thing I knew, he gave me a strange smile and then ran away. Then that's the time I noticed that my wallet's no longer in my pocket." Then the expression on her face shifted to confusion. "Not that I don't appreciate your help but why did you stop them from getting away?"

"I thought you were my sibling."

"Your sibling… Caltt, isn't it? So I look a lot like her?" Interest was written all over her face.

Him, Killua mentally corrected but there was no point in making the girl feel weird out about a boy wearing a girl's apparel. "From a far distance, yes. But now that I've seen you up close, you have your own differences. For one thing," he pointed at the spot on the left side of his chin, "my sibling has a mole here and you don't. You're also slightly taller than Caltt."

"Oh. Well, thank you again… uh, how do I call you?"

"Killua."

"Thank you again, Killua-kun. How can I ever repay you?"

Killua thought for a while. "An ice cream would be great."

"Um, could it be something else other than spending? I'm a little sensitive about money right now, sorry."

"Well…" I don't know much about this place, so… "I'm new to this land, so I need a quick and little tour around, if you have the time… what's your name?"

"L-Liian."

"Okay, Liian. If you really want to repay me, just show me the ins and outs here and we'll be just fine."

Liian seemed surprised at first but then the surprise melted into a smile. "Then it's a done deal."

Such an unusual region this is.

The thought was stuck in Curarpikt's mind while continuing on the path he had chosen. This land was a labyrinth and a mishmash of unorganized sections. Minutes ago the street he took had branched out into multiple directions, it had been difficult to figure out the man's definition of "just go there." So he had just trusted his instincts, which told him to take the very most center, pointing it out as the best option of all options.

And what an option it had been. So far, he had already reached a line of department stores, an open park, a seemingly old town and now, a subdivision of some sort near the mouth of the woods. The organization of the region was chaos itself. How am I going to find the Princess in this state? How did anyone here find his way in and out anyway?

There was no point in denying it. The prince of Kuruta was lost in a foreign territory.

But surely, there must be someone who could help him. Green eyes scanned the wide space around him, still as sharp as ever, searching for any sign of residents, anyone.

And there he found it. Or rather them.

Several meters away ahead of him were two figures close together, too far away to capture their distinct features but close enough to tell him that one was a child, the other, a lady. Relief washed over him, and he walked toward them, not in a hurry like an overly ecstatic wimp, not as highly as a prince might do, but in a calm and casual manner of someone peacefully strolling by.

But that peace he felt suddenly melted like butter thrown into a huge bonfire as his traveling feet narrowed the distance between him and the scene he was approaching.

Nothing was wrong with the first figure, a small form of a boy, probably around eight or nine years old.

But the second figure who was holding his arm, the shapely girl who suddenly turned her head at the slightest detection of his presence, the owner of the cold aurous set of eyes and bounded dark blue hair… That indeed was something wrong, so wrong that Curarpikt couldn't stand it as the dam of held-back memories was suddenly broken and everything filled every inch of space reserved for his confusion and points of forgetting.

He now remembered everything. He wasn't just Curarpikt, prince of the peaceful tribe of Kuruta.

He was also Kurapica. The last living member of what was left of it.

Kumo. That single word that registered in his mind, no, in his heart, at the sight of a member he had sworn to finish off was enough to trigger the blazing anger he hadn't felt for a long time. His set of vision must have gone red already, for the boy took a step back, a mixture of slight surprise and fright on his young freckled face. The female thief, Machi, he remembered Gon telling him once before, seemed a little bit taken aback before regaining the calm composure she was projecting.

"Let him go." Thirsty he might have been to eliminate another leg of the Kumo, it wouldn't do any good if her hostage lost his life in the process. No, he had to be calm.

"And you are…" Machi's voice was cool wind to his ears. Her hand was still holding the child's arm.

And then he lost it. "Arranging your trip to meet the dead." Raising his right hand at shoulder level, he willed his Dowsing Chain to appear, ignoring the surprise he felt when Machi pushed the boy out of her way instead of crushing his captured arm.

Was he mad? Was he actually going to fight with a Ryodan member with an innocent within their battle vicinity? His rational side kept yelling at him to clear his mind first before he can do something reckless, while the other side, the one that had been formed out of pure hatred, repeated the same chant to his soul: You took off a leg of the Kumo and decapitated it. You can remove another appendage again. Don't lose this chance!

And that side won.

The chain with the ball was thrust forth the air as he quickly dashed forward, knowing fully well that Machi would evade it. True to his expectations, she was already out of sight by the time the Dowsing Chain reached her spot. Behind at the right. It barely got half a second for her to move out of the way. But he knew that already.

Matching up with her, he maneuvered the chain's directions by moving his hand and his finger, every attempt of attack failing, or so it seemed. One thing was unusual, though. All Machi did was either dodging his chain or defending herself from it, never attacking, not even once. But underestimating her wouldn't be the best move.

And then he got it. The chain caught her covered foot, wrapping itself tightly around it and the ball weighing it down. Without missing a beat, Kurapica immediately slammed the chain to the ground and at the same time preparing the attack of the instrument meant only for the Ryodan: the Chain Jail. Even while the gold-eyed girl was still in mid-air, his middle finger which had already whipped out the chain had been itching to pull back the invisible weapon caused by using In.

But his anticipation of an oncoming victory, which was suspiciously easy, made him lose his concentration and he saw his chain when he moved it in Machi's direction, just right after she hit the ground. Two, one, and—

"Look out!" Everything happened to fast. Too fast for him to see the boy throwing himself in front of Machi. Too fast for him to realize that the Chain Jail had wrapped itself around the child's body instead of his target.

Too late.

Horror and dread froze his entire body, already knowing what will happen next. Years ago he had created a rule to strengthen his Chain Jail. The rule to use it only on the members of the Geneiryodan.

Kurapica had broken this rule. And had to pay the price for doing so.

My own death.

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