Chapter Five:

The Consort's Best Friend

If there was one thing Kurapika missed about his old place, and there were many but only one fit that particular moment, it was being able to sleep in. The few years after he met Leorio, he always worked night shifts at odd jobs. He never stayed long in an effort to not make any connections with his prospective bosses. Leorio was enough of a hassle. Besides, it didn't take too long for his previous life as a courtesan to begin to resurface. The constant shifting helped keep his past life perfectly anonymous.

There were no night shifts for the Consorts of the Emperor. There was no such thing as sleeping in if you wanted to be fed without having the Emperor barge into your personal suite to eat with you, all-the-while feeling like you were the one who was about to be eaten.

"Kurapika-daegam!" one of the maids called as they entered his suite in their rose pink uniforms. Kurapika tried his best not to let his annoyance show. These women had done nothing to deserve his ire. "How are you doing today?" They swung the drapes aside to let in some sunlight, which Kurapika's eyes heartily protested against. "Did you sleep well?" One of the maids dragged him out of bed after a confusing half-bow. "You're so skinny, Kurapika-daegam. Make sure to eat a lot at breakfast today!" They said as they took turns putting various robes to his chest. "Your complexion goes very well with cool colors, Kurapika-daegam!"

"Thank you, Kiya," he said, his head still reeling from the sudden onslaught of motion. They stood in his bedroom, surrounded by murals imitating a garden of cream-colored flowers. His unclothed feet were cool against the bamboo flooring.

The young maid placed her hands over her mouth. "Kurapika-daegam," she whispered. Then, she bowed and gave him a wide, red-cheeked grin. "I am so honored you remembered my name."

One of the other maids slapped her arm lightly. "Kiya, you can't just flirt with the Emperor's only male Consort."

"I wasn't flirting," Kiya defended, though her tone was apologetic.

"It's alright," Kurapika said, raising his arms placatingly. "Would you ladies mind waiting outside as I get ready?"

"Kurapika-daegam!" all four maids cried.

The leader, a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a loud, gravelly voice added, "You're too thoughtful! We'll leave immediately. C'mon girls, let's go!" They retreated to the living room, letting the doors slide back into place, but he could still hear their voices chattering away.

These people . . . were far too energetic to be working in this place.

Kurapika sighed. It had been a week since his arrival at the palace and the Festival was just a day away. The celebration revolved around them, but thankfully, it didn't require them to do any concrete work. It was mostly just for the people to remember that they're all above them. Traditionally, Consorts had little official functions in any aspect of the government, sans providing an heir and consoling the Emperor. If they wanted to, they could all just laze around all day writing poetry and reading enlightening novels. Kurapika had great potential with the latter, though the former, well, let's just say Kurapika wasn't blessed with a poet's heart. He'd tried, once, when Mother thought he might be forced to write some poetry for the Emperor at some point. He failed miserably. Words came to him fine, but all his poetry ended up too literal and too angry.

Ah, poetry. The only thing he could never excel at even when fueled by his fury.

So, when he walked into the Consort's Lounge – something he'd heard about in stories and was just as extravagant as you might imagine. Painted cream and accented with colorful landscapes, several cushioned mats laid on the floor by beautifully crafted tables filled with cakes and teas. There were lounges lined with colorful pillows – he was quite taken aback at the news that the Consorts did, in fact, have to help with Festival Preparations. It couldn't be just any sort of contribution. It had to be a way befitting their elegance and intelligence: poetry.

"I see," he said, as Machi delivered the news. The rest of the Consorts seemed quite confident in their abilities, and Kurapika tried to mirror them, but deep inside, his heart shriveled up in dread. Or, whatever was left of his heart, anyway. His stomach didn't seem all that enthusiastic either, and for a second, Kurapika thought about getting up and vomiting the contents of his breakfast in the bathroom toilet.

But then, everyone would know he was ridiculously nervous. He could not allow that to happen. The other Consorts might seem docile and friendly, but deep down, they were all here for the same reason: To be the Emperor's favorite. And just like Kurapika, they would undoubtedly fight tooth and nails for that position.

"Kurapika-nim," Aiko spoke from the cushion right beside his own, looking immaculate in her blue silks, "do you have anything planned out yet?"

Goodness, they were already planning things out? He'd barely gotten through the anxiety phase.

"Ah, no, I don't like planning out my writing. I feel the premeditation takes away the heart of the poem." It was going to turn out horrible whether he planned it out or not, so why bother?

The other Consorts praised his dedication, but something told him they weren't quite as impressed as they'd have him believe.

"Well, I'm going to take a stroll around the Palace grounds," he announced, standing up. He moved the screen door aside, gave a small smile to the guard at the door, and then walked away. It was such a strange emotion, loneliness. It hit you when you least expected it. After a week at the Palace, he was finally feeling it a bit. He missed home. Not home, precisely. He missed Leorio. The way he seemed to douse his anger so naturally, just by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Or comment on his self-destructive tendencies in a manner that was both humorous and absolutely heartbreaking. And it had only been a week. How pathetic. The faster he got rid of this feeling, the better. Whatever emotions, whatever love he'd had for him, had to be crushed. At this point, Leorio was nothing but an unattainable future.

Kurapika sat down on the edge of the fountain, a long, sprawling contraption spanning an eighth of the Lin Garden. There were a few leaves floating around, but other than that, the water was a clear blue against the white marble of the fountain. Leorio would've fainted at all the money that must've gone into building the garden alone. He'd always been rather stingy.

"I know that look."

Kurapika jolted, meeting gray eyes. The Emperor stood just a few steps away, looking down at him with an indiscernible expression. His hair was swept back today, his tattoo in plain sight - a spade-tipped cross.

"Your Majesty," Kurapika greeted. He started to stand up, but the Emperor put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed down, and the Emperor joined him, gazing into the pristine water wistfully. With the sun weaving its way into his hair, his eyes, his face, his black and gold hanbok, the Emperor looked something close to kind. Their hands were close, their little fingers a centimeter away from touching, and neither of them made a move. There was a comfortable stillness waiting to be broken.

"I call this Oeleun Bonsu," the Emperor said. He fixed those dark eyes on Kurapika, and the young man felt his heart race a bit. "Do you know why?"

Kurapika averted his eyes, straining his mind to remember a Lonely Fountain in his Mother's teachings and textbooks. Rarely was he caught not knowing the answer to a question, and when it happened he couldn't help but feel unnerved.

"You shouldn't," the Emperor said, smiling now and looking away. "My mother gave it that name. It's where she went to drown her sorrows. Mostly loneliness. But also anger and frustration. Feelings I'm sure you experienced even before coming here."

Kurapika turned away from the fountain and clenched his hands in his lap. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Who knows?" the Emperor sighed, leaning back on his palms now, the warmth their proximity lent disappearing. "I suppose you reminded me of her, sitting there. She became a Consort to get away from her family back in the West. She had no idea what awaited her here."

Did he expect Kurapika to feel bad for his plight? Alright, he felt a bit bad for his mother, but that made no difference in how he felt about the Emperor himself.

"So, now it's your turn."

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"What brought you here. I was missing my mother, and you . . ."

Kurapika scoffed, "I'm not telling you that."

"How cruel." The Emperor stood up, fabric shifting. His lips curved up as he turned to Kurapika. "Well, I consider this a success on my part." And he started to walk away, back to the bustling courtyard.

Kurapika's eyes darted around in confusion. "Pardon?"

The Emperor turned to him ever-so-slightly. "In a whole of ten minutes, you haven't tried to kiss or kill me. That is my win."

I'll show you killing –

No, no, he was fine. He was great. He didn't want to kill anyone. Well, he did, but that wasn't the point. Should he kiss him again? That seemed to work in distracting Kurapika from his more murderous thoughts.

But he asked him not to.

As if he cared.

Ah, but it wasn't like he wanted to kiss him. Well, he did. That was, his body didn't seem against the notion, simply because Kurapika had eyes. To be completely honest, the part of Kurapika that acted on pure carnal desires, probably wouldn't mind spending the night with the Emperor. It was just sex, after all.

However, there was more to Kurapika than just his carnal desires. And the much larger, much more logical and moral side of him, recoiled at the very idea.

What was it he'd said before? That his mother used to come to the fountain to drown her sorrows. That sounded great right about now.

. . .

After successfully drowning the bulk of his sorrows in the fountain, Kurapika returned to his lily-scented room and wrote poems until his fingers were stained black from the ink. The poems themselves were awful. They were all about moon rays and sunrays and deathrays and he found it rather disconcerting that his favorite was the deathray one. He wasn't sure what a deathray was, but it sounded destructive, and he was feeling pretty destructive right about now. Pairo would come in handy right about now, but his best friend was stuck back in the brothel counting money and running background checks. He hadn't seen him in two years now.

"Kurapika-daegam," Shalnark barged in. The man had exceedingly poor manners. "How ya doing?"

"Hello, Shal," he murmured, not bothering to look up from his spot by one of the lacquered tables in the living room.

The man's grin fell into a fond smile. Kurapika raised an eyebrow and asked what was the matter with him. Shalnark just shrugged. "You've given me a nickname. That means you're getting used to me."

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. Was he getting used to him? That would not do. He dipped his pen in the bottle of ink on the table, and then put it to the yellow paper. "That's hardly the case. Shalnark is simply too difficult to pronounce."

"Løgner," Shalnark muttered to himself, and it was a language Kurapika just vaguely recognized. A language his mother used to speak when she was tired or angry, or when she sang him lullabies as a child.

"I didn't know you could speak Lüksan," Kurapika said, turning to him this time, his pen still on the paper. Lükso was a large nation on the continent of Ochima, mostly composed of forests and mountains and snow.

Shalnark gave him a small, wry smile. "Born and raised there. In the slums. I had nothing until Danchou found me."

"I see," Kurapika replied. Just as he had taken everything from him, the Emperor had given Shalnark everything. He only served those who served him.

"Do you know someone from there?" Shalnark asked, sitting down next to him now, forgetting the reason he sought Kurapika out for the moment. He strained his eyes to read what Kurapika had written down on the parchment. "' To know a rock?' That sounds . . . interesting."

Kurapika ignored his comment. "My mother lived there before she moved here for her studies and met my father."

"She must've really loved your father to leave everything behind," Shalnark said. Kurapika could tell he was trying to push the issue, and that was something he would not allow.

"You wanted something from me?" Kurapika prompted.

Shalnark pouted but conceded. "Danchou wants to talk to you."

"Surely, he can wait until morning." Kurapika yawned and placed the pen aside. "It's past midnight now. We both need our rest."

Shalnark laughed, and it somehow unsettled Kurapika. He seemed so sincere, and yet, the object of his cheeriness was hard to discern. "He thought you'd say that, so he told me to threaten you with jail time."

Kurapika's eyes widened comically, and Shalnark chuckled again, sliding closer and patting him on the back a bit too hard.

"Don't worry, though. I'm not going to throw you in jail," Shalnark said.

You might want to, though.

"I appreciate it," Kurapika replied, standing up and stretching. "Alright. Who am I to deny his Majesty my presence?"

Shalnark slid the doors open and gestured for him to exit the room first. He heard it shut close behind him, and the young advisor led his boss's lovely consort to his office. Kurapika briefly wondered why they had to be put in different buildings. Surely, since the Emperor visited them at odd hours of the night – assassin hours, let's call them – it would make more sense to have his quarters closer to theirs. But no, he had to cross an entire courtyard in plain view to get to him.

The young man once more allowed him to enter before him, but this time Shalnark stayed outside. The Emperor peered up at him from his desk, those strange, silver eyes calculating his every step.

"How's the poetry coming along?" The Emperor asked.

"Quite well, your Majesty," Kurapika replied. He'd better keep his mask on. There were guards outside of the door, as well as Shalnark. "Your advisor informs me that you've requested my presence?"

The Emperor put aside the paperwork he'd been mulling over and started working on the next pile. "There's been a bit of a breach of security."

Why would he tell him this? If it was so important, then he would've told all the consorts. If it wasn't, he'd tell them at breakfast. Could it be? Impossible, Mother would never send him.

"A young man by the name of Pairo. He says you know him," the man said, the tip of his pen gliding along the parchment elegantly. Kurapika's fists clenched, and he bit down the urge to shriek and demand he take him to Pairo, and that if he'd harmed even a hair on that boy's head he'd slaughter him right then and there.

"I do. What happened? Where is he?" Kurapika asked, keeping his voice intentionally low. He would scream if he didn't whisper.

The Emperor glanced up at him for a split second, a curious look in his gaze. "You seem to care greatly for this boy."

"He's an old friend," Kurapika spoke, more urgently now, as his thoughts continued to race. What were they doing to him right now? What if they were torturing him, prodding him for the answers Kurapika wouldn't give? What if this was part of the Emperor's game, and Pairo wasn't here? He couldn't lose control now, but he couldn't let it go either.

"We put him in the dungeon," the Emperor finally replied, eyeing him for signs of weakness. "He's not harmed, just unconscious. He might've woken up by now."

"Did he carry a bag with him?" Kurapika asked, leaning down to his eye level, his hands clutching the edge of the desk.

"Yes?" He gave him a perplexed look, and the consort's blood boiled, with fear, with anger, with frustration. It was past midnight. Pairo's heart would start acting up again soon.

"Where is it?" Kurapika hissed, the paperwork was thoroughly disheveled now, much of it scattered on the floor. The Emperor even dared to look disheartened at his disordered workplace. His temper thoroughly riled, the man grabbed him by the collar of that beautifully crafted golden overcoat. "Tell me where it is!"

A laugh spread across the Emperor's face, as a finger made its way to Kurapika's lips. "Hush, my prince. You wouldn't want anyone to hear you."

"I've had enough of your games," Kurapika raged on, his eyes filling with liquid. The Emperor remained silent, and Kurapika realized he wouldn't get anything out of him with fury and fists except a prison sentence. The fingers around his silken collar loosened. Pairo's life was at stake. He didn't have time to rough him up. "Pairo has a heart condition. He always keeps his medicine in that bag. Please, without it he'll die within minutes."

Something changed in the Emperor's face. It wasn't pity or sympathy. It rippled through his face before settling back into the casual calm tide he always wore.

"The bag's currently being inspected for weaponry and signs of poison." The Emperor stood up and headed for the door with the careful confidence of a King. "I'll take you to the lab."

Kurapika would've cried out of relief if he hadn't been in plain view of some of his worst enemies. His legs felt heavy suddenly, and he had an odd wobble to his walk, but he followed the Emperor briskly. Brain feeling rather overwhelmed, he didn't manage to say anything, his speech lessons abandoning him because he had nothing but a 'thank you' resting on the tip of his tongue.

He heard the Emperor talk with the inspectors, who threw him pitiful looks. The Emperor gave him the medicine - a syringe and a small vial of clear liquid - which he accepted with shaking hands.

"It'll be alright," the Emperor whispered in his ear somewhere along the path to the dungeon, but Kurapika was too wrapped up in his panic. Everything was loud, and yet he couldn't make anything of it. Just that Pairo was somewhere within the stone walls of the dungeons, sleeping on a cold floor, with his heart slowly giving up. Criminals gave them strange looks, though the sight of the Emperor seemed to tighten their throats. They all wanted to keep their heads. Kurapika sped past them until a head of messy brown hair won his attention. His heart clenched. His throat grew thick.

"There 'e is," the prison warden said, giving the shivering boy an empty stare as he unlocked the door. "Safe n' sound."

"Safe and sound?" Kurapika choked out, furiously, sitting down next to his friend and placing his head in his lap. He brushed some hair out of his face, and deep brown, pupil-less eyes looked up at him though he knew they couldn't see him. Pairo's blindness made him too 'weak' for Mother to ever use him for anything she deemed important. Most of the time, he just served as motivation for Kurapika. He had a poet's heart, though, and an encyclopedic knowledge of chemistry that Kurapika could only dream of obtaining.

"Kurapika," he rasped, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Kurapika, is that you?"

"Yes, yes it's me," Kurapika whispered, relief filling his chest. "I've got your medicine."

Pairo rubbed his eyes, his breath still coming out in short gasps of air. "Eh, did you sanitize it?"

Kurapika chuckled, placing an arm around his shoulders. "Of course. Several times. Here, give me your hand."

Pairo held his arm out in his general direction, and Kurapika inserted the needle into a faint blue vein. He pulled it out, wiped the wound with some antiseptic, and wrapped a bandage around it. He helped him back up onto his feet.

"You can stay in my room," Kurapika reassured, giving the Emperor a glare before the man could let out even the slightest protest. "It's got a great view."

The boy did a little half bow to the Prison Warden and Emperor, and said, still in that breathy voice, "Thank you for having me!"

Kurapika snickered at the surprised looks on their faces. Pairo might be just as hellbent on revenge as he was, but he didn't think that allowed them to be rude to their hosts. He was better than Kurapika, and that was probably why he was never a candidate for this job even without his blindness. Pairo loved people too much. He was too kind, too forgiving. He might hate them now, and his resolve might be as strong as Kurapika's, but killing was against his nature. Deceiving people was against his nature. As good of an actor as he may be, he could never pretend to be in love and make love to someone he hated. This job had been shouldered by Kurapika.

"Has he forced you?" Pairo asked, when they made it to Kurapika's bedroom. Kurapika had led him to the scarlet chaise lounge, but the boy remained tense.

Kurapika looked at Pairo, with his concerned stance and creased face. He tapped his forehead. "Don't worry too much, it's bad for your heart."

He grimaced and Kurapika sighed, disappearing into his bedroom. The wardrobe nearly blended right in with the rest of the wall, but inside it was cavernous. He sifted through them in search of something fit for Pairo. Size wasn't a problem, Pairo and Kurapika could've passed for twins if they wanted to, but the former had rather sensitive skin and would need something of the utmost comfort. Kurapika settled for a red set of cotton sleepwear.

"No, he hasn't. The Emperor is a strangely civilized piece of work." He tossed the bedclothes to Pairo, whose eyes nearly popped out at the feeling of the soft fabric. "And I don't think he will any time soon, so relax."

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Pairo asked. Kurapika led him to the bathroom and turned the steel faucet on. He splashed in some flower-scented soap as he gathered his words. All the while, his friend continued to stare at him suspiciously, though that telltale void remained. Pairo couldn't see him. A part of him will forever feel lost, and it was all due to Kurapika's own foolishness.

"Well, you see . . ." Kurapika started. He turned away, chewing on his bottom lip. "It's a bit complicated. He . . . already knows that I'm trying to kill him."

"Huh? And he's letting you live? No imprisonment or anything?" Pairo asked. "That's so weird."

"I think . . . he's enjoying it," Kurapika admitted, turning to look at Pairo over his shoulder. The boy made a face.

"What a creep."

Kurapika laughed, and he surprised even himself at that. Slowly, the loneliness from that morning started to ebb away. Pairo, to him, was home. The only home he'd allowed himself to keep after their parents were murdered. "The bath's ready for you."

"It's one of those fancy ones, isn't it?" Pairo said, untying the red sash around his waist. "I didn't even know these existed until you wrote to me about the one in a client's house. Whose was it again?"

He left the bathing area and closed the door, obscuring his view of Pairo as he leaned against the wall of his bedroom. "I don't know. I had a lot of clients."

"The most popular man in Mother's entire House," Pairo agreed. There was the sound of splashing water and then, "Woah! Even the water here is high class!"

Kurapika smothered a giggle, as he pulled out his own nightwear: A light blue shift made for warm nights like these. It was a good thing Pairo hadn't been caught in the middle of winter. He would've frozen to death in that prison. Kurapika would have to talk to the Emperor about that. Some prison reforms were in order.

"By the way," Pairo called. "Mother said to warn you about the Consort's Festival."

"Oh?"

"Some old clients might be coming to it. She wants you to remain vigilant. 'They could slander your reputation in a heartbeat' was what she said. Also, watch out for assassins. You know how much they like big events. Oh, and Hisoka sent a letter in. It was surprisingly ordinary."

Kurapika grimaced. The thought of running into an old client hadn't crossed his mind, but now that the idea had been brought up, he wouldn't be surprised if one or two made an appearance. They'd be a problem in that case.

"Kurapika?"

"I'll keep it in mind!" he responded, hoping he had nothing to worry about. A few minutes of silence followed, with Kurapika strategizing possible backup plans in case a client did recognize him.

"So, I hear you're writing poems," Pairo started, an obvious teasing edge to his voice.

Kurapika rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless. "Oh, shut up, you know my talents lie elsewhere."

. End of Chapter .

1) Thoughts on Pairo? Too OOC? Something bothering you about him? Do let me know.

2) Like I said, the continuity of this fic might get a little strange. I still don't completely know when this is set.

3) Any comments, suggestions, critiques, predictions? Please let me know in the comment section below :)

4) I'll be replying to reviews personally now, through the PM box, because that's just easier for me.