A Hundred Days Hence
By Yukitsu
Disclaimer: HxH is not mine.
Notes: Random. And that this isn't yaoi/shounen ai, and doesn't have any hints of it at all. Set to happen during the Greed Island Arc, when the spotlight had shifted back to Gon and Killua.
The first month he went back to his duties, not even Senritsu could figure out if he was fine or not. His self-control, no matter how tattered, held.
It was Nostrad who broke down; the pitiful man had gotten obsessively reliant on his daughter's predictions, and was rendered quite stupid without them. Kurapika took a step farther than he was required as a bodyguard, farther than even the deceased Darksworne had ever done: He ran the Nostrad's numerous businesses. All of it.
He was taken off body guarding duties and given full reign on Nostrad's empire. This suited the Kuruta well – he hadn't needed any prompting to take the task at hand, had even jumped at it head first. Not only would he be able to extend his information network to the places only the rich has access to, but he got better ideas of how to retrieve his clan's missing eyes by better predicting his competition.
Kurapika managed to find a pair that was almost completely destroyed by manhandling. Acquiring it was another matter entirely, and he spent most of a week stressing over how to go about getting it.
It was around the same time that Nostrad took to drinking, Neon took to random lapses of depression, and Zenji took to pissing him off every way he could. The Kuruta pushed his plans to the back of his mind to deal with his employer, never mind that the man was thrice as old as he was and had a daughter who was suffering from worse trauma.
Kurapika reassured the man time and time again that everything was going to be all right. He was sincere, and he did do his best to keep the crumbling empire together, but he often felt rather silly for having to coddle the broken entrepreneur. Comforting people wasn't his forte.
On the first week of the second month, Kurapika had a relapse. He locked himself up in his room, cursed the images of Pakunoda and Ubogin staring down at him, and promptly collapsed on the floor. He woke up six hours later to Nostrad wailing pitifully outside his door.
It seemed to drive away the spirits of the deceased, and Kurapika had been so grateful he let Nostrad's audacity to shake him by his collar slip.
Neon ran away on the second week, apparently in search of her lost Nen. The blond dragged her back kicking and screaming to the Nostrad Manor, where he tried to talk some sense into her stubborn head. Senristu shoo-ed him away after half an hour of trying, and he nearly welcomed the presence of the ghosts when he had retreatedto the silence of his rooms. He took to working harder than ever, if just to avoid having to return to bodyguarding duties and trying to talk the mistress from her moments.
Nostrad had another breakdown after that, from which Kurapika once again managed to pull him out off with much difficulty. He convinced himself that it was worth it, that he needed to keep his position – and, therefore, everything that came with it – for the sake of his mission. That had been difficult too.
Senritsu told him gently, as he struggled to get out of his bed the following week, that he had strained himself. The blond, Kuruta benefits or no, was bedridden for three days with only Senritsu and two hostile presences for company. He wondered how he kept sane.
Kurapika was up at least two days before he was supposed to, desperate for something to occupy his mind with. He even managed to beat up assassins he was sure had been hired by Zenji to take revenge upon him. Of course, he was bedridden another day after that, to Senritsu's bemusing worry.
Everything went smoothly the whole of the third month. He even received news that Leorio was at the final leg of his studies, and would drop by for a visit during his break if Kurapika would have him. He considered himself blessed when Nostrad decided to keep to himself and his bottles, and Neon put her efforts into writing poetry and sulking in her room instead of trying to commit suicide.
Business went rather well, too, quite probably because of the holidays. Kurapika got a fluffy pillow from Senritsu whose accompanying hint he ignored, a big sobbing hug from Nostrad, and a short poem from Neon. Unfamiliar with the tradition – or rather, unused to receiving anything from anyone – Kurapika neglected to give anyone anything. He treated those he could to dinner instead.
Leorio came around just before the New Year, bearing blankets as Kurapika's present. The Kuruta once again ignored the hint, and got Leorio a set of expensive surgeon's tools.
It was at that moment that he thought the ghosts had finally given him their silence.
Another auction was held just after the New Years, this time not big enough to get any threats from various criminal groups and the like. Kurapika came home after a hard day's work with a pair of Scarlet Eyes. He hadn't even used Nostrad's money, though he had to ask Leorio to bid for him in his stead.
Two days after, Killua called with news of passing the Hunter Exam and Kuroro Lucifer. Kurapika felt his heart stop beating for a seemingly long second, before he gathered his wits about him and approached the matter with his favored method: Logically.
It was impossible, he had explained calmly, because he would feel it through their link. Only Senritsu could have known the panic he felt, then.
It was too soon for the Ryodan to find a Jyonen-user, too soon for him to say he had already recovered. He wasn't ready. He exposed none of these during the phone call with Killua, but he almost ended up keeling over when Leorio came to ask what the matter was, and why he was milky pale.
"It's too soon," he rasped out before quickly retiring to his room and locking himself up overnight. To say that Leorio had been confused would have been like calling the sun green.
When he had thought things over, his mind brought him to his last conversation with Gon. To think of Killua would be to think of Gon, anyway, so he wasn't too surprised.
He wondered briefly how Gon's training had ended up, if his own teacher had helped where Kurapika had been certain he would have failed. Kurapika fervently hoped the younger pair had found methods different from his own training for both their sakes. Anyone who looked at him would know why – heck, it wouldn't even require that.
He had the demeanor of someone fast approaching death. Kurapika could only hope he had more time before the Ryodan could find the Jyonen-user.
Kurapika tucked himself up under his blanket, curled around the pillow, and bade his intangible stalkers good night.
2:29 AM 9/3/2005
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