空ガラス Empty Glass

chapter one white powder and colorful tablets

Oh, beauty is such a sin; Kurapica could only watch in dumbstruck horror as he watched them gouge the eyeballs out and pop them into tubes filled with a strange looking liquid. He could feel his own eyes turn scarlet as rage rose – the man with sleeked back hair seemed to be the mastermind behind the massacre. His intuition had never been wrong; fate invited them to a short conversation of threat through eye contact.

Cold, dark eyes met his scarlet ones. Cold dark eyes that betrayed no emotions but of calamity, staring stonily back at angry, scarlet irises.

'I will hunt you down, no matter where you will go. I'm not ever, ever giving up. I want to fight you, and protect the honor of my tribe!' screamed Kurapica, his arms kept by his side, fingers clenched in a tight fist, trembling with fury, itching to throw a punch at the emotionless man who stole everything away from him. The Genei Ryodan, famed band of thieves – he never dreamt, even in his deepest nightmares, that they would assault this plain little village.

'When you're prepared, come find me and take your revenge, girl,' answered Kuroro almost in a disdainful snicker.

At that moment, Kurapica wanted to lash out at Kuroro, bring his fingers around his throat, choke the life out of that horrid man, make him beg for mercy… but Kurapica knew he wasn't strong enough. He knew. He felt so weak, so miserable, and so helpless… He could only clench his jaw in unspoken agony and ball his fists so hard, until his knuckles turned white and his palms bled from his fingernails' force. He could only cry silent tears then. Not today – revenge is sweet, isn't it?

--

Who knew, that this seemingly ordinary day was the day where Kuroro came to Kurapica, a captive.

Kurapica was dressed up in secretarial clothes, and the wig made him look more feminine than ever. Kuroro sat next to the Chain Killer, bound by chains; the third finger of Immobility. Kuroro couldn't help observing the male beside him; the porcelain complexion, the delicate lips, and elfin facial features that screams femininity.

'What are you looking at?' he snapped, noticing his captive's eyes fixated upon him. Kurapica was particularly moody whenever he was around anything related to Genei Ryodan or poor innocent spiders.

Kuroro seemed to contemplate answering his question; he took his time to think up of the answer, knowing well that the Kuruta would be infuriated. He smiled, using a pleasant tone to reply.

'Nothing. I just hadn't thought the one we are searching for is a woman.' The dark-haired man couldn't help allowing the corners of his lips to quirk up at his ill-concealed amusement derived merely from watching Kurapica rile up.

'I don't remember telling you I was a female.' Kurapica pulled off his wig, feeling extremely jerky at the moment. How dare he! 'Don't rely on appearances.' Kurapica clenched his jaw tight, attempting to rein his temper in. The insult Kuroro had left him five years ago replayed itself in his head, and it was adding fuel to the fire.

'Pay more attention to what you're saying,' said Kurapica as calmly as he could, casting a baleful glare at Kuroro. 'They could be your last words.'

'You won't kill me,' Kuroro answered calmly, tucking away the desire to snort at the less-than-terrifying threat he had just received from the irate Kuruta. 'Because you want to get your friends back, right?'

'Don't provoke me,' hissed Kurapica, clearly aggravated already. 'I'm not in any position to stay calm!'

'Kurapica! Calm down!' came Leorio's voice from the driver's seat.

Kurapica opened his mouth to retort, but shut it again, gritting his teeth in silence.

'In the prediction of the girl… none of this was mentioned,' began Kuroro. 'Doesn't it mean I needn't be warned? In other words, Kuruta, what you are doing now is insignificant.'

'What!' uttered Kurapica in outrage, his eyes widening. Kuroro had no doubts that his eyes were scarlet now under the black contact lenses. Kuroro merely continued smiling – to him, it was nothing more than two friends having a chat over a cup of tea in a café.

'Kurapica!' cried out an anxious Senritsu from the front seat, twisting back to check on the blond.

'If you kill him, you will have to deal with me,' warned Leorio, hoping to threaten Kurapica to calm down. There was still Gon and Killua as hostages. There was no way they could risk losing them; besides, Kuroro was clearly getting on his nerves successfully, and the blond was taking the bait. Five years have flown, yet Kuroro could easily toy with Kurapica's emotions like puppets on a string.

Glaring venomously again at the man in the frivolous costume, Kurapica scowled, but remained silent. The car drove on, the engine purring like a cat being stroked. The blond diverted his attention to the window, watching the thunderstorm outside lash out on city York Shin. Raindrops rattled the metal roof of the car, like blunt bullets clawing blindly at the vehicle. The raindrops splashed against the windows, in slanted streaks of fluid, winding ribbons disappearing to the bottom of the glass pane.

Leorio turned on the window wiper, as the raindrops began to fog the glass. There was quietness, the only sound coming from the cranking of the wiper. Time passed; people were exchanged, there was a death, many injuries, and one disappointed clown.

--

Kuroro couldn't help snorting whenever he remembers Hisoka's face of disbelief. Hisoka wanted to challenge Kuroro to a fight, but the chain snaked around his heart had disallowed the usage of his Nen abilities. The clown had left in disappointment, and somewhat quitted the Genei Ryodan, considering he had removed his tattoo; or rather, a piece of Nen.

The man was left in the hilly, rural areas of the oh-so-modern York Shin city. It was probably the border between York Shin and some other country he wasn't too sure about. He did travel a lot, being the leader of the brigade of bandits, and besides that, their missions often took place in different continents every few years. The last time was at Sonisco, if his memory hadn't failed him yet.

This time, Kuroro was traveling again; except, he was alone, and trudging towards the East, or Chikage, a modern metropolis near the East Garuto.

A week had passed.

Kuroro had exchanged his flamboyant costume for more modest clothing. No trench coats with so much fur trimmings that they could jolly well make him sneeze, or tight pants that could possible render him incapable of having children; a plain collared shirt was draped over his broad shoulders and muscled upper torso, loose and comfortable slacks fitted to his hips. His hair was no longer coated with gel that choked his scalp. It was allowed to fall over his forehead, styled by the wind only. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead to cover the tattoo, and in overall, his attire was rather similar to those he donned during the York Shin auctions. Those ridiculously large jewels (or baubles, as Hisoka calls them) were tucked away, replace with simple silver studs.

The dancho definitely had sufficient money to live on for a good half a year; some were robbed from unsuspecting passers-by during the night, some pickpocket-ed, others were stolen from charity boxes. In other words, whatever money he has never reached his hands legally – what do you expect from the leader of a brigade of bandits?

The city was peppered with bright lights, as it was plunged into darkness. The sun had sunk, bringing the last rays of scarlet with it, disappearing behind the horizon. Stars spangled the darkened sky, the blazing sun exchanged for the luminous glow of a crescent moon.

Kuroro wandered around the streets late at night, scanning the mass of concrete buildings for a victim – preferably a drunk and rich person. Well, he could take on a boxer or karate black belt even without his Nen abilities, but sometimes, he likes to pretend he's strong by picking weaker enemies. Hah.

'Bakabakashii!' yelled a voice suddenly; Kuroro's ears immediately pricked up, listening for the source of the angry shout. It sourced from a little alley not far away. Curiosity got the better of Kuroro; he decided to investigate. As he edged closer towards the dark narrow alley, he became careful – another reflex action. He pressed his back to the wall, inching towards the mouth of the passage, his ears listening intently for any other movement.

'I am not a freaking drug dealer, I told you already!' the same angry voice continued. It was calmer and less agitated than before, as rage has been repressed. Maybe it was dealing with someone important or has significant control over the yelling person.

'Then what is the white powder I found in your pocket, huh, you filthy little liar?' spat a new voice. 'Or would you care to explain the colourful tablets you've been munching on happily, and all the puncture marks on your arms?'

'The white powder, incidentally, is my brother's medicine, those colorful tablets are sweets, and the punctures came from the glasses I broke during flair bartending practices!'

'Oh, really? I don't believe you. Glasses leave cuts, not punctures!' Clearly, the other voice was losing any more support for his evidences. The other voice was paused, perhaps scowling or glaring balefully at the other party.

'It's none of my business if you don't believe it, keisatsu,' retorted the other voice. 'I have to go for my performance already. Now, let me go!'

'No, I will not,' the other voice called back. 'You know, twenty-thousand jenis can solve it…'

'You're not asking for bribery, are you? You corrupt police!'

'You ask for it, brat!'

Kuroro's shadow flitted across the alley, blocking the light rays of the streetlamp. The dancho of Genei Ryodan glimpsed what is going on; a blond male with a crew cut was grabbing the collar of a teenaged girl. The so-called police turned around, sensing the waver in the light source.

'Who's there?' his nervous voice called out. Without a warning, the girl seized the opportunity and landed a punch on his nose, hard enough to make him stumble backwards in pain.

'Don't you dare to run away!' screeched the man. The girl turned and was running away. He managed to get up on his feet and successfully tackled her. The dark-haired female fell chest first onto the hard pavement floor; she struggled to worm out of his vice-like grip, clenching her jaw tightly in concentration.

He had scaled the wall, climbing up to about seven feet high. He then jumped down, aiming at the male; his feet connected with his spine. There was a crack, and Kuroro was very sure the man was more or less injured badly to release his grip. He did.

The female clawed blindly on the floor, trying to get up - in that moment of fear, her legs had turned into wobbly pillars of jelly, and it was quite a task to stand up. When she managed to struggle to her feet, she was panting heavily, clutching onto the lamppost for support, sweat beading her forehead, still reeling from the shock.

'Are you alright?'

The female spun around to meet Kuroro, who had somehow snuck up behind her back. She flinched at his sudden appearance behind her back, and she patted her chest out of habit.

'O-oh, I'm fine. Thank you,' she nodded. 'That ketsunoana there desperately wants money, hence he's accusing any roaming idiots of some retardedly fabricated crimes and I happen to be one of the roaming idiots he found.' She sucked her lips in, lowering her eyelids, glancing away almost shiftily.

'Of course, those aren't drugs,' answered Kuroro, tilting his head to get a better look at the female. 'I know. It's sodium cromoglycate, to reduce inflammation and prevent asthma. Am I right? And those colourful tablets are actually sweets from a brand called Zalatimo. It's something like M&Ms, with colorful casing and chocolate inside, but this one looked like a tablet in order to escape lawsuits of copyright infringement.'

She looked stunned at his knowledge. 'H-how did you know all these?' she gasped, her eyes widened in surprise.

'I just read a lot.' He smiled, handing the packet of white powder and colorful tablets to her. 'I snitched them from the police officer's pocket. Here.'

'Read a lot?' she quirked an eyebrow, pocketing them.'No kidding. You must've read a whole library to actually know these… Say, you are a newcomer to town right? I believe I've never seen you around before.'

'Well, I guess you could say that. I'm sort of a wanderer. I don't have a specific home.'

'If you don't mind, you can always drop by my place, in case you run out of money from renting motels.' Shrugged the female nonchalantly. 'Oh, and I realized I hadn't given you my name – well, I'm Jun Mephistopheles. You?'

'I'm… uh, Kuroro Lucifer,' the dark-haired man answered, regretting his decision for giving out his real name for a split second. 'That would be really nice.'

'I assumed you don't have any luggage... as for clothes, you can always borrow my brother's old ones, if you don't mind.' smiled Jun. 'Let's be off now.'

As they left, their shadows shrinking and their footsteps softening, the police officer groans.

A/N:

Sodium Cromoglycate: It's really an asthma-related medicine. Kudos to Google for the information. (:

Bakabakashii: direct translation of 'stupid'.

Baka: do we all not know this?

Ketsunoana: direct translation of 'ass'.

Obasan: middle-aged woman. (according to my elder brother who's learning Japanese)

Anyway, this is my first fan fiction, feel free to review and comment. Constructive comments are welcome; please don't just tell me my story just freaking sucks without telling me why. Thanks. (: