A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and I hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either.

Of Blonde Wigs and Middle-aged Spinsters

Initially, Kuroro refused to go with a great deal of dignity. He sat firmly on the pink couch, the cushion with a baby's face on it planted primly on his lap, and flat-out refused to budge from his position. This reluctance on his part to meet any of Midoya's family was born out of two very important reasons. Firstly, the moment Midoya had mentioned her aunt's name, Kikita had reacted with a look of such profound sympathy that could only mean there was something very wrong with Midoya's aunt. Secondly, this Annabella is related to Midoya, and that is reason enough not to meet her. Kuroro had long known that Midoya was potentially the only normal person in her family and that… said a lot. Hence, based on these, Kuroro felt it was not beyond reason for him to refuse to meet this Annabella, whoever she was.

Unfortunately, Midoya obviously disagreed as seen by the way she tried all means of getting him to move, including threats, bribes, pleas and seduction. It was a fairly close call when she stood up and started to do a strip-tease but Kuroro, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, was made of pure determination, and he managed to ignore the show that was going on, though the cushion no longer sat as evenly on his lap as it did earlier. Eventually, Midoya gave up and decided that if he wasn't going to move, she was going to do so for him. Kuroro took one look at her face and decided that if he was going to be forced to meet Midoya's aunt, he was going to do so with dignity.

Climbing to his feet, Kuroro brushed down his coat and fastidiously smoothed his hair. "Alright, alright," he said irritably. "I'll go along with you, you little witch."

"Oh honey, I love you," Midoya gushed, her eyes wide with insincere adoration. "Our marriage is going to be fabulous!"

For a brief moment, Kuroro considered killing Midoya (or at least doing some grievous harm to her body), but the reappearance of an understandably confused John Smith deterred him from doing so. "Where are you going?" John called out as they piled into the rental car Midoya had magically summoned. "I bought the sugar!"

"We are going to Hell and there is not enough sugar on Earth to sweeten that," Kuroro told him solemnly.

"Oh Kuroro, you are a born comedian," Midoya tittered. "Toodles, John!"

"Uh… toodles…?" John gave a confused wave in reply to her jolly finger-wave as they drove off.

"You are being entirely too cheerful," Kuroro complained as he turned left at a junction as per Midoya's instructions. "Is it because you are planning my impending death?"

"Not at all dear," Midoya said patiently. "We are going to find a way to get tickets to that ball, not get you murdered. Why are you so against meeting my aunt?"

"Because prior to leaving the house, Kikita said very seriously to me that she will prepare a lovely funeral for me." Kuroro glanced at Midoya's amused expression. "On general principles that a powerful Hunter knows what she's saying when it comes to matters of life and death, I fully expect to not survive this meeting with your aunt. I am sure you understand my reticence now."

"Hmm, it is entirely possible you wouldn't survive the meeting, yes, because you really never know when you will die now, do you? I mean, you could easily die by choking fatally on a piece of bread," Midoya said thoughtfully, "but I have great faith in you, dear. You are Dancho of the Genei Ryodan after all, and you are going in pre-warned. I'm sure you will do just fine."

"Pre-warned?" Kuroro arched an eyebrow at her. "Midoya, I don't even know why I should fear your aunt, though I assure you I have a very healthy fear of her now. I hardly feel pre-warned. Would you care to explain?"

"Ah…" Midoya waved a hand about as if she was searching for the correct words. "She's… well, my aunt is a very lovely woman."

Kuroro's eyebrow went even higher. "A lovely woman?"

"She's really short, like me, and cute, and kind of senile." Midoya paused in thought. "She's actually closer to eighty than seventy, so she's not always there, you know? But overall, she's quite a sweet old lady who likes cats and puppies." Another pause as Midoya dredged the depths of her family history. "Her husband, my dear Uncle Brian is dead," she informed him. "They never had kids because like most people of my bloodline, she's barren and he's impotent. They both like cakes and porcelain dolls. Quite a good match they made. Though the marriage was arranged, I believe they quite bonded over lace dollies. Turn right at the next traffic light, dear."

Kuroro frowned as he did as told. "She doesn't sound too scary," he said tentatively. Another thought struck him, and he asked, "Are you barren too? I assume you aren't."

"Why do you say that?" Midoya asked, blinking at him.

"Because you always insist I use protection when we have sex," Kuroro said, pleased with his deduction.

"That could be for protection against disease too," Midoya pointed out, and Kuroro stared at her in shock until she gestured for him to keep his eyes on the road where a giant tanker was bearing down on them at an alarming speed. "Darling, we don't exactly live together. How would I know what you do in between the months we meet each other?"

"You mean… you think I'm doing someone else other than you?" Kuroro asked slowly as he narrowly avoided collision with the tanker, which blasted its horn at them rudely.

Midoya stared back at him. "Dear, you never claimed to be monogamous to me," she said reasonably, "just like I never claimed to be monogamous to you."

"Well yes, that is true." Kuroro thought about that. "So you have been having sex with other men?"

Her eyebrow went up at that. "Kuroro dear, I don't really kiss and tell, though if you must know, I haven't had any other partners since we got together while finding your Jyonen-user," she said dryly. Peering at his face, she asked, "Are you really upset about this?"

Kuroro thought about it. "No," he said finally, which was part-truth and part-lie. He wasn't upset that Midoya wasn't monogamous to him. Monogamy, any student of biology and zoology will tell you, is in nature, more often the exception than the norm after all, and who was he to argue with Mother Nature? At the same time, he never really liked sharing things that he thought of as his. Not that Midoya would appreciate knowing that he thought of her as his. Ultimately, she was her own person after all, and Kuroro didn't have the right to dictate what she did in her daily life. She did say she hadn't had any lovers since they got together permanently, though she could be lying to prevent his feelings from being hurt. How likely was that though? She had no reason to lie.

At least that's what he told the Neanderthal that he had recently discovered resided in him. It didn't like what it heard, so Kuroro beat it up till it did.

"Well, as long as you're not upset," Midoya said still watching him cautiously. "Oh, we're reaching Aunt Annabella's house in a couple of minutes. Turn in there."

Glad for the change in topic, Kuroro did as told, turning into what turned out to be a surprisingly plain and bland driveway. "I do hope your aunt is as tame as you say she is," he said mildly. "I have difficulty handling one Kito already; I have no idea how well I will do with two."

"Oh, my aunt isn't Kito," Midoya said absently. "She's a Dunstan. Annabella Jane Dunstan, sister of Miharu May Dunstan, my mother, and thus my Aunt from my mother's side." She paused and added, "She could also be my cousin twice removed, my cousin-in-law or my great grand-aunt. But it gets confusing if I try to sort that out, so I just see her as my aunt."

Now it was Kuroro's turn to raise his eyebrow. "How on earth does that happen?" he demanded as they climbed out of the car.

Midoya waved a dismissive hand about. "We are a very inbred bunch, us Kitos and Dunstans." Coming around to stand next to him, Midoya took his hand and whispered very softly, "More importantly, Kuroro, when you see my aunt, do not say anything about geese."

"Oh. Geese. Sure." Eyeing her suspiciously, Kuroro followed Midoya up a rather innocuous pathway to a rather innocuous door.

Stopping before the plain wooden door, Midoya raised her hand and knocked politely. "Hello?" she called. "Anyone home?"

"Who is it?" a querulous voice called out.

"It's June, dear Auntie," Midoya shouted.

"Who?"

"June! Your niece, Auntie!"

"Is it safe to announce that to the world?" Kuroro asked. "I thought we're going incognito here."

"This neighbourhood is mafia-clean, relax."

"How on earth can you be sure?"

Before Midoya could reply, the door swung open and a shrivelled hunchback of an old woman appeared before them. Though Midoya had warned him that her aunt was closer to eighty, Kuroro still hadn't expected her to look that old (not everyone knows Nen, he reminded himself). She was dressed in a long-sleeved, full-length flowery dress of a fashion that had become out-dated fifty years ago. Her hair was pure white, frizzy and tied up in a neat knot at the back of her head and she peered at them over glasses that covered eyes milky with cataracts. A walking stick was clutched in one thin, heavily-veined hand.

"Oh! June!" the old woman cried in the same querulous voice and hobbled over to Midoya, clutching her feebly and kissing her on each acne-scarred cheek. "Oh, my dearest baby! You haven't visited in years! Look at how you've grown! The last time I saw you, you were still in diapers." Diapers and Midoya; Kuroro tried to keep his face straight at that image.

"I visited last year, Auntie," Midoya said, her private school accent more pronounced than ever. "I got you a chocolate truffle cake."

"Oh, is that so?" the old woman questioned, looking confused. "You must forgive my failing memory. I am sure I enjoyed the cake though. And ah! Dear Nicholas, how good to see you again!" Kuroro blinked as she placed trembling, heavily-veined hands on him and stroked his cheeks shakily. "Why have you not visited in so long? You know how much I have always liked you."

"That's not Nicholas, Auntie," Midoya said patiently. "This is Kuroro, he's my uh… boyfriend."

"Is that so?" the old woman peered at Kuroro's face intently. "Are you playing a joke on me, young lady? I am quite sure this is Nicholas. I had Nicholas for ten years, you know, before I was forced to leave him with dear Miharu? I would know how my own dog looks like."

"Of course, of course," Midoya said soothingly as Kuroro frowned deeply and tried to figure out which part of his face looked like a dog's and whether he should feel complimented or insulted. "May we come in, Auntie?"

Thin, cracked lips parted in horror. "Goodness! Where are my manners?" the elderly woman hobbled aside. "Come in, come in. Wipe Nicholas down before you let him in, dear. You know how dogs get mud all over the place."

"Yes, of course," Midoya said, ignoring Kuroro's warning look. Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, she gave his face a token wipe or two, obviously trying not to smile as she did. "All done, Auntie."

"Good, good," the old woman said, already hobbling away from them. "Come on in! Take a seat! I have cookies in the oven. Would you like some tea? I have a wonderful Ceylon blend that your father sent me just last month. Such a nice man, your father. I am always so glad your mother married well."

"That would be lovely," Midoya said agreeably, wandering into the house.

When the elderly woman disappeared into the kitchen, Midoya steered Kuroro to a genuine tea table covered with a white lacy table cloth with lace dollies on it. As they sat down, Kuroro looked around at the china in the cupboards, porcelain dolls lining the shelves and the lack of any technology beyond a telephone that dated to the seventies. It was exactly what he would expect in the house of a woman well into the seventh decade of her life. "She seems quite harmless," he commented tentatively.

"See? I told you she is an absolute darling. You had nothing to fear at all." Midoya patted his arm and smiled absently at the dolls. "Just don't eat the cookies or drink the tea."

"Why not?"

"Because they will be poisoned."

Somehow, Kuroro managed to school his face into an appropriately canine look before the old woman came back with a tray carrying a plate of cookies and tea that smelled awful. "Cookies for you dear," she said kindly, placing the plate in front of Midoya. "And cookies for Nicholas."

A bone-shaped cookie was dropped on the table in front of him and Kuroro stared at it as if he wanted to torture it to death – slowly – with a safety pin – a blunt safety pin.

"Thank you, Auntie," Midoya said politely as an old, wrinkled hand ruffled Kuroro's hair affectionately. Once she was done, Kuroro wasted no time smoothing his hair down again fastidiously, deliberately ignoring the look of pure glee on Midoya's face.

"Oh, not at all dear," the old woman said, sitting herself down next to Midoya. "Come, let me take a look at my favourite niece. Oh! How lovely you look now. The boys must be falling over themselves to meet you. Are you getting married anytime soon? You must make good use of your child-bearing hips before you die."

"Of course, Auntie," Midoya said as Kuroro contemplated cutting up the bone-shaped cookie, starting from one knob before advancing to the other, in true Feitan-style. "How have you been lately?"

"Lonely, of course," the old woman said bluntly. "My dear, you must visit more often. You know how lonely I get with Brian working all the time and never home."

"I will," Midoya promised. "I'm sorry I haven't come by in a while. You know how work is."

"Oh, work! Pshaw! Work is for peasant women whose husbands can't afford to keep them! Aristocratic women do not work. You need to find a good man who will take care of you. You wouldn't want to ruin your hands working."

Kuroro looked up from his partially dismembered victim at that. He hadn't been aware that Midoya was aristocratic in anyway. Idly, he wondered if the old woman was using that term loosely to refer to 'rich' people or if the Kito/Dunstan families really had royal blood in them. But he didn't ask. Annabella Dunstan was very advanced in age and a talking dog might just give her a heart attack. He was sure Midoya would be angry if he accidentally caused her ageing aunt's death.

"Of course Auntie," Midoya said in reply to her aunt's comments. "I'm sure I will find a good man soon." Her voice was heavy with irony but it seemed to slide past Annabella entirely.

"Good, good," the old woman beamed. "And how are your parents? Good, I hope?"

"As good as ever," Midoya replied, which was, Kuroro mused, pretty much the truth since they were dead. "Auntie dear, I have a favour to ask of you."

"Yes dear?"

"There will be a ball at the Basilio mansion one day from now. Did you get any invites?"

The old woman thought about that hard. "On my mantel-piece," she said as if she wasn't certain. "An invite for me and a date." She smiled wistfully at that. "I haven't had a date in years, not since Brian died. It would be nice to start dating again."

"I'm sure it will be, Midoya said, standing up and heading for the mantel-piece. "Is the invite over here?"

"Yes dear, right there." The old woman leaned forward towards Kuroro and beamed at him. "Come, let me scratch your ears, dear. What a good doggy you are. What a precious little good doggy you are you."

Kuroro hesitated for a moment as the hands hovered just out of reach. Should he allow her to scratch his ears? The horrifying vision of those long, yellow nails touching any part of him made his mind up for him. "Goodness, no," he said firmly, deciding that it was time to abandon his cover as Nicholas the dog in favour of preserving the remaining shreds of his dignity. "No scratching my ears."

Annabella Dunstan blinked.

The next thing Kuroro knew, the elderly, wrinkled woman was straining against him, a meat carver in hand as she screamed and slashed violently at his throat. It seemed talking dogs triggered homicidal rages instead of cardiac arrests. He wished someone had told him that beforehand. "Midoya," Kuroro called urgently, holding the woman back as gently as he could. He could kill her, break the fragile wrists he was holding, but he really didn't want to do that unless she forced his hand.

"Just keep her off for a second," Midoya replied calmly from the mantel-piece where she was rifling through a pile of papers. "And be gentle with her. She's really old and suffers from osteoporosis."

"You are asking for a lot," Kuroro complained then pulled his face out of reach as the knife almost nicked it.

"I'll kill you!" the elderly woman shrieked, spittle spraying onto his face as she struggled to bring the carver down on him. "I will kill you! Kill you! Kill you!" Then just as suddenly as it had started, the old woman stopped struggling and leaned away from him with a kind smile. "Brian dear, welcome home," she said affectionately. "Did you like the lunch I packed for you?"

Since she was no longer trying to kill him, Kuroro decided to assume the cover identity of 'Brian', and replied, "Yes. It was lovely."

"I made it different today," she said coyly. "Can you guess what's different?"

Kuroro stared at her, already tired of his role as 'Brian' the dead husband. "You put cyanide in it?" he guessed, half-jokingly.

"Close. It was arsenic." She beamed. "I always knew you were cheating on me with my sister."

"What? Miharu?" That would explain how the Kitos got so inbred.

"Oh no, I meant Zina, my youngest sister. I've seen the way you look at her, you pedophile. I can guess what you've been doing in our marriage bed all those times I was out having tea with my cats."

"How… regretful," Kuroro said for the sake of saying something. At least she wasn't trying to kill him anymore.

Like magic, Midoya appeared from behind him, a cream envelope in her hand. "Got it," she murmured softly.

"Whore," the elderly woman said bitterly, staring hatefully at Midoya. "Family-breaker. I wish Father had disowned you as a child."

"I have to be off now," Midoya smiled, looking unruffled. "I'll drop by to visit again, Auntie."

"Be sure to." Annabella Dunstan's face lit up in a cheerful smile. "You know how much I love you, dear June. You've always been my favourite Kito, unlike your parents who are absolute bastards."

"I love you too, Auntie," Midoya said, giving her aunt a kiss on the cheeks. "We'll let ourselves out."

"Goodbye, June, Brian."

As they walked out of the house, Kuroro caught a glimpse of the old woman staring after them, hatred burning in her eyes and the carver back in her hands.

Safely back in the car, Kuroro gave Midoya his most wounded and accusing look. "Harmless, you say?" he demanded.

"She doesn't know Nen."

"And she's sweet?"

"She offered you cookies and tea."

"She thought I was her dog."

"Dogs are cute."

"And she tried to kill me."

"Half the world has tried to kill you before at one time or the other. Don't whine dear, it's not very flattering on a grown man." Midoya smiled at him, dimples and all. "Surely you are magnanimous enough to forgive an old lady?"

"Surely." Kuroro started the car, glancing at the map to the hotel as he did. "Did she really poison her husband?"

"No," Midoya told him calmly. "She poisoned her dog. Her husband died in bed."

Kuroro's eyebrow greeted his hairline. "In bed."

"After she stabbed him thirty-seven times with a meat carver."

"And why did she do that?"

"She thought he was going to elope with the dog." A pause. "She was right."

"Your family is twisted," Kuroro said as they left Annabella Dunstan behind. "Absolutely twisted. I would be appalled if I didn't meet so many insane people in Meteor City on a regular basis, and have thus acquired a degree of immunity to insanity. I wish Pepeka was here to be appalled on my behalf. Wait a minute, I wish Pepeka was here? Goodness, I believe this insanity thing is contagious."

"Insanity runs in the family, yes," Midoya agreed. "I fully expect to join the ranks of my family one day and go irredeemably insane."

"You mean you haven't already done so? I always thought juggling your criminal and legal activities the way you do must have given you a split personality of sorts," Kuroro said, though he didn't really think she was insane. The day Midoya went insane would be the day Netero's vision of Midoya as a super villain came true. "Speaking of criminal activities, what does that invite say?"

"The usual rubbish," Midoya replied, casually glancing through the invite. "You have been cordially invited to a Masquerade Ball at the Basilio Mansion, Agocchi. Formal wear. Dinner will be served at eight in the evening. Cocktails from seven. The usual." She folded the invite and looked at Kuroro solemnly, "The invite isn't as interesting as what it doesn't say."

"What doesn't it say?"

"What the purpose of the ball is," Midoya said thoughtfully. "The mafia estates don't hold balls often. They only do so when they want to show off something. Given that Aunt Annabella got an invite, it says something about the nature of the item… to be showed off."

Kuroro gave her an inquisitive glance.

"Aunt Annabella, if you will believe it, is extremely powerful in the mafia circles."

Kuroro thought of the lace dollies and porcelain dolls decorating Midoya's aunt's house and raised a doubtful eyebrow. Then he thought of her wielding a meat carver and poisoning her dog, and his eyebrow went down. "I can see that."

"She is one of the few people in Agocchi whom the York Shin mafia will bow to. She's not exactly mafia of course. Like me, she has a certain skill set that makes her useful to the mafia. She plays a kind of… mediating role between York Shin and Agocchi. It's why there is a mafia-free zone two miles in every direction from her house. This neighbourhood, if you will believe it, is considered neutral territory. Any Mafioso stepping into this territory is be shot on sight. By Aunt Annabella I mean. I did mention she is a world-class, qualified sniper?"

"I am not surprised. So, based on what you just told me, she is someone who can help mafia from Agocchi enter York Shin," Kuroro concluded, brows furrowed in thought. "You think Basilio has already found the Infinity Gem."

Midoya fidgeted a little as she thought. "It's possible," she admitted. "I'm not too sure though. If he had found it, I would have expected to hear about it by now. My butler has been instructed to stay tuned to the grapevine and to inform me if something comes up. So far, word is that Basilio is still searching for the Infinity Gem. Oh, and the Ryodan got attacked again. They are fine. Apparently pictures of Feitan beheading their captives went viral on the Net. According to my butler, he looked good in them too. He's a very photogenic man, that Feitan. He has his own online fan club now, made up of teenage girls, bored housewives and extremely revolting paedophiles. I wouldn't be surprised if he starts receiving marriage proposals soon."

"But of course," Kuroro said, feeling a surge of pride over how multi-talented his Ryodan is, "Still, even if it is true that Basilio has found the Infinity Gem and is no longer hunting the Ryodan, our goals still have not changed. He has attacked us multiple times and has killed residents of Meteor City. I will have his death."

"That's what I like about you, dear, your relentlessness, especially when it's not directed at me," Midoya said warmly. She looked around suddenly as if she had just become aware of their surroundings. "Kuroro, where are we going?"

"The hotel," Kuroro told her. "There's not much else we can do today. We might as well stop for dinner and rest."

"That's all fine and all, dear, but please stop at that corner first."

"Why?" Kuroro asked, even as he obeyed her instructions.

Instead of answering, Midoya felt around in the back for her bag and dragged it to the front. As he watched, she started to pull a baby blue shirt from it, followed by a flowery dress and a blonde wig. With a straight face, she pulled off her top and plopped the blonde wig on her head.

"Midoya?" Kuroro asked dubiously. "Is this some bizarre form of foreplay? If it is, I would like to inform you that firstly, I much prefer your natural hair colour, and secondly, this is really not the place for kinky sex."

"It's not foreplay, dear. I have more taste than this. These are disguises," Midoya told him. "Kikita's area and Aunt Annabella's area are not exactly mafia hotbeds, but our hotel is very close to the centre of town where there are plenty of watchful mafia thugs. We'll need to be in disguise there."

"Oh." The blue shirt was pressed into his hands and Kuroro stared at it in dismay. "I like turtles?" he questioned, reading the slogan off the front of the shirt.

"No, darling, you love turtles. And distressed jeans," Midoya said, clearly amused as she shoved a pair of jeans into his reluctant hands.

"Why are the jeans distressed? Have you been torturing them? I do see holes in the knees." Kuroro shook them out and looked them over critically. "And the edges are frayed. Did you get them from Meteor City? You do know Meteor City isn't exactly the high fashion capital of the world."

"It's meant to be like that, dear. Holes in knees are... were fashionable… some decades ago."

"Is that so? I don't see the point to them. I don't like my knees to be cold; it's just asking for a bad case of arthritis when I get older." Kuroro eyed the shirt sourly. "Do I have to wear that?"

"You can wear the dress instead," Midoya replied tartly. "Now hurry up and get dressed before we attract an audience. Come on, turtle-boy."

"Oh, alright," Kuroro muttered and resigned himself to being a victim of Midoya's peculiar sense of humour.

By the time they were done, they looked as different from their usual selves as was possible. Dressed in that baby blue T-shirt which declared Kuroro loved turtles, distressed jeans, white sneakers, and a tie-dye bandanna for his tattoo, Kuroro concluded that someone in the Ryodan must have told her about the disguise he had used in Hun. He didn't recognise himself in the mirror under all that positive, hippie nonsense, and he doubted anyone would.

However, as good as his disguise was, Midoya's disguise truly took the cake, ate it and vomited it out in a shower of colourful sprinkles and glitter. Her disguise was much more elaborate, with a blonde wig, blue contacts, a large pair of shades, a large sun hat, Mary Janes, and a dress crowded with flower prints that was so not-Midoya it gave Kuroro cognitive dissonance just looking at her.

"We are now husband and wife by the way," Midoya told him crisply as Kuroro started the car again before a friendly neighbour decided to call the police on the young couple stripping in their car. She produced a pair of matching rings and slipped one onto his finger. It fit perfectly. "We're on our honeymoon. That's our reason for being in the hotel."

"So we've bypassed the entirely wedding ceremony," Kuroro commented, glancing at the ring and wondering if Midoya would let him keep it. From the feel of it, Kuroro thought it might be real gold. The value of gold was high now, and he could probably sell it for a nice profit. "What, no wedding cake and orgies and…" Kuroro dredged the recesses of his cultural memory, trying to remember what it was that people did at weddings, "no ritual branding of people with a hot poker?"

"None at all, dear. I would like to go through all the proper ritualistic nonsense with you, of course, but I am much too impatient for that. I couldn't wait to get you into bed, you see."

"Ah. I like the way your mind works."

"And the hotel has a bed," Midoya purred as she started to layer heavy makeup onto her face. "A very nice and large bed."

"How thoughtful of them," Kuroro commented and pressed down on the accelerator. "By the way," he added, almost as an afterthought, "how do couples act anyway? Married couples, I mean. I don't have any acquaintances that are married, so I don't have a portfolio to draw on to create this character."

"Oh. Just leave that to me."

The grin in her voice had him glancing over at her. "What are you planning now, Midoya?" he asked, feeling he had every right to be nervous after the pain she had just inflicted on him.

The grin now turned on him. "Nothing much," she purred, "only something that will set our cover story just right."

Aysha Mandrinas was sitting behind the counter of the hotel when the couple walked in.

For forty years, since she was seven, Aysha Mandrinas had worked behind the counter of this hotel. It had been established by her great-grandfather some hundred and fifty years ago, and generation after generation had taken over in the running of the hotel. It had never become a big franchise like some other hotel names, but it was a good hotel, solid and decent, with nice amenities and good food. It had also stayed true to the roots of their culture. The Mandrinas tribe had originally been a nomadic tribe that lived off the mountains of Beitt. However, the speedy urbanization of the mountains had forced the tribe into the city where they had slowly assimilated into the lifestyle of the city-dwellers.

Looking around the modest hotel, with the furnishings decorated with coloured glass beads and the wind-chimes hanging from the ceiling, Aysha liked to think that this hotel's survival was a testimony to the hardiness of the Mandrinas tribe. Even if their time has long passed, the tribe will still survive because it damn well will.

Still, despite her pride in her culture and the hotel, Aysha couldn't help wondering if there was… perhaps… something… outside the hotel. So often, guests at the hotel would speak of their home country, of the wonders and sights, of the food and culture. One day, Aysha thought it might be nice to actually go somewhere and see those sights. But who would look after the hotel then? Aysha had no children of her own, and all her nieces and nephews had long left Agocchi, seeking the greener pastures of York Shin. Her brother was still here, but dear Samul was as intelligent as a rock and would undoubtedly ruin the hotel with his inability to tell the difference between land taxes and a llama's ass. Aysha sighed. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life tied to this hotel? Was that truly a fate she could live with?

It was, at that moment, while Aysha was thinking about her future, that the most stunning man she had ever laid her eyes on walked in through the front door.

He was perhaps of average height and size, but everything else about him was nowhere near average. His skin was pale, so pale he appeared to be glowing in the bright afternoon sun. In contrast, his hair and large, lovely eyes were an intense, impenetrable shade of black. There was no colour in his face except in his lips, which were the faintest shade of pink. He wore a fitting pair of jeans with holes at the knees, and a baby blue shirt which declared he loved turtles. The way the clothes hugged his body as he moved made them look like something off the runways.

Behind the counter, Aysha inhaled sharply with repressed sexual desire then sighed again, this time more with wistfulness than weariness. Great, super wonderfully awesomely great; the one day the most beautiful man on this earth walks into her hotel was the one day she hadn't bothered to powder her nose. Madri, the man was so beautiful. If only she was twenty years younger…

"Hi!" a chirpy voice said. Abruptly, Aysha realised it had been a couple who had walked in, not a lone man. She had been so absorbed in staring at those dark, intense eyes making their way towards her that she hadn't even noticed the lady hanging off his arm.

"Good afternoon," Aysha greeted warmly, tearing her eyes off the man's uh… face to look at the woman. Blonde, fair and with blue eyes; somewhat pleasant-looking in a rather bland way, and with rather too much makeup on the face. A dress crowded with tiny flower prints and the giant sun hat completed the touristy look. The smile on the pleasant face was wide and vacant. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Under Mr and Mrs Carman," the woman said happily. "It's our honeymoon. Like, we just got married. Like yesterday. It was such a pretty wedding, with like flowers and ribbons, and like we exchanged rings and stuff. I mean, we totally only did that because we wanted to be like avant-garde, but it was like so cool and stuff."

Aysha managed to keep the smile on her face by virtue of years working behind the counter where she had met the weirdest people. "That's lovely," she said politely, flipping through the ledger. There it was: Mr and Mrs Carman. "Good day, Sir, Madam. My name is Aysha and I'll be your host while you're here."

"Thank you! Oh, but we totally didn't invite you to our wedding!" the woman exclaimed, looking horrified. "Oh, you must not think that we like hate you or anything. We'll invite you when we totally exchange our vows again like a hundred years from now."

"That… that would be nice," Aysha said, truly bewildered for the first time since she started working in this hotel. How on earth had this stupid young woman caught a man as hot as the one standing next to her? She snuck a look at Mr Carman. His face, even up close, was still as lovely as a wet dream, but his expression was devoid of any emotions. Maybe that's how they got along, Aysha mused as she took the key to the honeymoon suite down from the box behind her; he was too emotionless to care that his wife was an absolute dolt. But damn was he hot. Aysha really wished she had worn some lipstick. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Agocchi," she told them as she led them up the stairs to the suite. "There are many things to do in Agocchi. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Oh, we were like thinking of walking around the city," Mrs Carman said, smiling brightly. "It'll be like a totally nice walk!"

"The city is a little too big for that, Mrs Carman," Aysha told her, trying to hide a smile. "You could hire a driver to take you around if you like. Our hotel has a chauffeuring service. For three hundred zennis a day, my brother will chauffeur you around the whole day."

"Why do we need a chauffeur for?" the woman asked, looking puzzled. "We're like married already. We don't need someone keeping an eye on us. We are totally allowed to have sex together now."

Sex. Madri. The image of that man in the throes of passion, skin covered with sweat, body straining with unreleased tension, his lips parted as he moaned... Aysha cleared her throat and somehow managed to say, in a calm and not-sex-starved voice, "No, chauffeur, as in… he will just drive you around to wherever you want to go."

"Oh! Well why didn't you like say so?" the woman looked at her husband. "What do you think, honey?"

"We should decide what we want to do before we hire anybody," the man said in a calm, even voice. Madri, his voice was as sexy as his looks. Good lord, if he started singing Sinatra, Aysha was just going to abandon all dignity and clothing, and jump his bones.

"True," the woman said slowly. Maybe the idea of thinking before acting was too complicated for her brain to comprehend. "Oh my precious honey-bunny sugar-plum, you are so smart. This is why I love you so much."

It seemed to Aysha that the man looked like he was in agony. She wasn't sure though; his expression was so blank, and the only hint that something was wrong was the slightest furrowing of his brow. "Why don't you tell me what you like to do and I can recommend some activities to try out in Agocchi?" she suggested as they walked down the corridor towards the suite.

"I like flowers," the woman said immediately. "And like… roses. And violets. They are kind of like flowers, but purple."

"Violets and roses are flowers," the man commented in a wretched tone, as if he hadn't wanted to say it but couldn't stop himself from doing so.

"Like, oh my god, you must totally be kidding me!"

For a moment, she thought the man might actually turn and run away, but he didn't. So Aysha tried to pretend she hadn't seen anything. Poor man! Barely a day into his marriage and he must already be regretting it! "Agocchi has some lovely parks," Aysha told them as she unlocked the door to the suite. "You could take a walk there, but the parks are really small and will barely occupy you for more than a day. How about you, sir, what do you like?" Please say threesomes with middle-aged spinsters. Please.

The man stared at her with those dark, intense eyes. "Turtles," he said and walked into the room.

The woman laughed, a surprisingly knowing laugh, as if she had gotten a joke Aysha hadn't. "Oh that silly," the woman said, taking the keys from Aysha's unresisting hand. "Why on earth would he like turtles? Turtles are like the ugliest flowers in the world." Humming cheerfully, the woman disappeared into the room and the door closed on Aysha, still standing there with a shocked look on her face.

As soon as the door closed on the middle-aged woman who had shown them to their rooms, the vacant look vanished from Midoya's face and she raised an eyebrow at Kuroro amusedly. "Turtles?" she asked.

"It was the first thing that came to mind. Do remember I've barely had fifteen minutes to form this particular persona," Kuroro replied, looking in the modest bathroom which hosted a standing shower and some basic amenities. The room was nowhere near as luxurious as some of the places he had seen Midoya live in, but it was homely and cosy. The room was a queen-sized bed, covered with a hand-sewn quilt. There was a table and two chairs made of wood. The suite had been made into the 'honeymoon suite' by the addition of flowers and a card that read 'Wishing You a Blessed Marriage'. "Was our cover story set sufficiently for you?"

"I couldn't be more satisfied," Midoya said, chuckling. "Our dear host now believes that two of the dumbest people in the world have wedded, presumably in an attempt to ensure the devolution of humanity back to apes, and that we are going to wander around Agocchi doing whatever it is that people on honeymoon do." Still smiling, she wandered around the room, switching on the television and looking in the cupboards.

"To the horror of humanity." Kuroro watched her over the top of the book he had pulled out from his pocket. "I wonder why it is that every time I'm on a mission with you, my reputation suffers a severe blow."

"I dirty everything I touch, dear, but you already knew that," Midoya joked and disappeared into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, the shower turned on, a sound Kuroro always found strangely soothing. Combined with the soft sounds coming from the television, it made for a rather pleasant white noise in the background. The seconds ticked past and Kuroro sank deeper into the book. Just as he was getting into the discussion between the prostitute and the noblewoman about the relationship between class, gender and oppression, the bathroom door opened again and Midoya emerged in a cloud of perfumed steam.

"Take a bath?" she suggested.

"A bath?" Kuroro contemplated the merits of getting clean as opposed to figuring out where the prostitute was going with talks of financial stability and its relationship to the acceptance of repression. Eventually, the bath won simply because Kuroro realised he was starting to smell like something had died in his boots. "Alright," he said, dropping the book on the table. Absently, he sifted through the contents of his trousers, dropping the keys to the car, his phone and his wallet on the table.

Behind him, Midoya melted onto the bed, her bathrobe parting slightly as she did. "I'll be waiting for you," she purred, deliberately striking a sensual pose that was only half-joking.

"I'm looking forward to it," Kuroro replied with a faint smile and disappeared into the bathroom.

The Infinity Gem, Shalnark soon discovered, was harder to trace than he had expected. There was a lot of talk about it, sure, and it had pretty much become the stuff of legend ever since its disappearance almost two decades ago, and that was the problem. It was going to be difficult sifting the truth from the fiction. Eventually, Shalnark had given up on trying to trace its whereabouts specifically and started searching for any colour-change sapphires present in the market.

Yawning, Shalnark stretched and looked around the base camp. Ever since the second attack on the Ryodan, they had decided that for safety reasons, they should disperse themselves as far across Meteor City as possible. With Dancho gone, the ten of them had broken up into three groups and spread themselves across various districts. At the moment, Shalnark was in District Six with Franklin and Machi, trying to hunt down any traces of the Infinity Gem. As far as he could see, Franklin and Machi were away in their own corners, sorting through paperwork they had stolen from someone who had claimed to have owned the Infinity Gem before. Shalnark was, in turn, stuck on his laptop, hunting down any leads he could find.

"Any progress?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Dead end," Machi said irritably, dropping the pile of paper on a box. "The gem he had was not the Infinity Gem; it was just a normal sapphire. Pretty, yes, but not the actual thing. It wasn't even a colour-change sapphire, that bastard."

Shalnark shook his head wearily. "It's difficult," he complained, "not least because it was stolen so many years ago. To make things worse, it was stolen by a kid in Meteor City. That makes it practically untraceable. On the other hand, you would think something like the Infinity Gem would have made some sort of waves if it reappeared in auction houses or the black market."

"That's the curious thing about the Infinity Gem," Franklin said quietly. "What exactly gives it so much power?"

"Didn't Kito mention something about rituals and stuff?" Machi asked. "It must be some item that holds some kind of significance for some sort of mafia ritual."

"If that's the case," Franklin pointed out, "maybe it would only have 'made waves', so to speak, if it had reappeared in mafia circles. To the rest of the world, it would have been nothing more than a pretty stone, right?"

"Right," Shalnark said slowly. "Right, that makes sense." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So far, I've been looking for any colour-change sapphires present in the markets in general. Perhaps, if we find out exactly what significance this stone has, we can rule out researching certain markets."

"Go for it," Machi said, rotating her shoulders. "We're too bloody short on leads."

"On it," Shalnark mumbled distractedly as he did what he should have done earlier: finding out the origins of the Infinity Gem. "Ah, got it," he said brightly as search items started to appear. "Whoo, you will not believe this. It seems the raw sapphire that became the Infinity Gem was harvested from Meteor City."

"Serious?" Machi peered over his shoulder. "Huh. Chemicals in Meteor City suspected to be the cause of the Infinity Gem's odd colouring. Interesting, but not really relevant. Anything else? Find something that relates it to the mafia."

"Yeah, hold on… Huh. Hey. Look at this."

Franklin and Machi stared at the search item Shalnark had clicked on. Immediately, the Nen around him grew tense with anxiety and Shalnark felt it when Machi started to bristle. "She didn't mention that," Machi said quietly.

"No, she didn't," Franklin said, his voice low with anger. "Read it."

Shalnark did, reading it out loud, his face paling the more he read.

"Oh fuck," Machi said, once he was done, her tone wretched, "oh fuck. We trusted her. We fucking trusted her. If this article is to be believed, it means we might have put our trust in the wrong person."

"Not good," Franklin agreed. "We don't know for sure, but we can't trust her."

"And Dancho is alone with her." Shalnark muttered a curse under his breath as he fished for his phone. "Call the others," he instructed, "warn them not to trust her anymore. I'm contacting Dancho." He pressed the phone to his ear urgently. "Let's hope we're not too late," he muttered.

The phone came apart easily in her hands. Coolly, Midoya dumped the battery out and carefully took out of the memory card. The shower stopped for a moment, and Midoya's eyes flickered to the bathroom door, ready to hide the dismembered phone if need be. However, it started again soon enough and Midoya released the breath she was holding. Turning the memory card over in her hand, she pulled out a container containing what appeared to be a thin piece of clear tape. With firm fingers, she lay it down on the memory card, pressing it flat, before sliding the card back into the phone.

Mission accomplished, she quickly resembled the phone and put it back exactly where Kuroro had left it. Oddly enough, it was only then that her heart started to throb with nerves.

Soothing her face into a mask of calmness, Midoya sank back into the bed and closed her eyes. With that nifty piece of technology in Kuroro's phone, the Ryodan wouldn't be able to contact him. In fact, the only numbers he would be able to receive calls from would be hers and Kikita's. He wouldn't be able to contact the Ryodan using that phone either, and that might make him suspicious, but Midoya knew him well enough by now to know that he only contacted the Ryodan if he needed them to do something for him. With both her and Kikita around, the chances of that happening was fairly low. Between the two of them, they could provide most of the expertise of the Ryodan and some. If the circumstances did arise, Midoya would have to deflect him somehow. She would probably have to… think about it then. There was no use planning in too much detail when it came to Kuroro Lucifer; that man was as unpredictable as genetic mutations.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened and Kuroro stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He smiled faintly at her before heading for his duffel bag to find some clothes and Midoya felt just the briefest pang of guilt. This was followed quickly by the quick tap-dance of excitement. What would happen if he found out what she just did? Would he try to kill her? As sad as that thought was, it was also strangely exhilarating, so much so that she couldn't decide if she would truly regret it if he found out the true scope of her plans.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't notice Kuroro sliding onto the bed next to her until his arms wrapped around her. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, face buried in her neck.

That if you knew what I had done, you would try to rip my throat out this very second, and that I might actually like that.

Not the answer he would be expecting. From the way he was kissing her, she knew what answer he wanted. "I was just thinking of how cold this bed is," she said instead, keeping her voice low and sensual, "and how big and empty it is when I'm all by my lonesome self on it."

Kuroro chuckled and drew her closer. "It's been four months," he sighed. "For me at least," he added belatedly.

"I told you that was the case for me too," Midoya replied wryly.

He smiled at that. "So you noticed my possessive streak," he murmured.

"It's hard not to," Midoya replied softly, running her fingers through his damp hair. "It's a mile wide and growing. Anyone who knows anything about you can see it."

His smile widened and he kissed her behind her earlobe. "You don't know me half as well as you think you do," he said mildly as he kissed his way down towards her breasts.

Despite what she had done, Midoya found herself smiling anyway, a humourless smile which she hoped Kuroro wouldn't be able to see past. "I do know you Kuroro," she replied. "I do know you very well." Roughly, she kissed him so he wouldn't protest.

It was true and it was why she was so excited and so terrified about inciting his wrath. Residents of Meteor City were such merciless, unforgiving people after all, and Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan, was definitely no exception.

After the fifth try, Shalnark gave up and hung up his phone. "No luck," he said to the nine testy people staring at him. "I can't get through to Dancho's phone."

"What do we do now?" Shizuku asked, looking around with wide, child-like eyes. "Do we kill her?"

"We still don't know what her plan is," Nobunaga argued. "We don't even know she has a plan."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Phinx growled. "Of course she has a fucking plan. What do you think she is, a saint? This article clearly shows she has a personal interest in this whole affair."

Nobunaga bristled and started to reply but Shalnark held up a hand. "Not now," he said sternly. "Okay. We don't know if she plans to… well… hurt Dancho, but what we found suggests she does have her own agenda. Given that we haven't been able to contact Dancho, it suggests… a lot of bad things. Either way, it isn't safe leaving him with her. So here's what we're going to do." He looked around. "Half of us will continue to search for the Infinity Gem. The other half will go to Agocchi to look for Dancho. At the very least, we need to confront her and get her to tell us what she plans to do, and we need to let Dancho know she is hiding information from us."

"Seconded," Feitan agreed with his usual coolness.

"I agree," Machi said curtly. "She's dangerous and she has the edge over Dancho. We need to find them. Who's staying and who's going?"

"Right." Shalnark looked around uncomfortably. Usually, Dancho was the one who took charge when breaking the teams up, because Dancho had a unique perspective on who worked best with whom. In his absence, Shalnark will have to make do and hope it works out. "Kito has seen some of us fight before," he said slowly. "The same people have also seen her fight before to the fullness of her ability, and we know she's beyond dangerous. I think the team we send to Agocchi shouldn't only contain people whom she has seen fight before. That would give her an advantage over us." He looked around. "Okay, they are ten of us…"

"Get to the point," Franklin said quietly. "We'll take your lead."

Shalnark sighed. "Nobu, Phinx, Machi, Kalluto and Franklin," he said. "The five of you are on the Agocchi team. The rest of us will stay here and continue to search for the Infinity Gem." He looked at the Agocchi team carefully. "Kalluto, you helped us find the Jyonen-user. I hope you can use the same abilities to find Dancho and Kito. Franklin, you are team leader until you meet up with Dancho. I expect you to keep these animals in line. Nobu, Phinx and Machi, the three of you have seen Kito fight before, but given that two of you met up with her much later in the fight at the Fort, she hasn't seen as much of your abilities as she has of Dancho's and mine. The three of you are firepower in case Kito needs to be taken down. And Machi, if anyone gets hurt… well, you know what to do."

"Got it," Phinx said coolly. "Though I resent you thinking Franklin can control me."

"Not control," Shalnark said with another deep sigh. "He will receive instructions and information from me. So just listen to him, okay?"

"Fine, but only because we want to find Dancho," Phinx said stubbornly.

"Immature," Kalluto commented, and ignored Phinx with great dignity when he started yelling at him.

Feeling a tug on his arm, Shalnark glanced over and found Machi glaring at him. "Are you sure that's the best grouping?" she whispered. "Two out of five are total morons and one's a newbie. Besides, Kito has seen me fight before, for quite an extended period of time too. Don't get me wrong, I'm keener to be on the Aggochi team than the Gem team, but is it the right choice?"

"I don't know." Shalnark frowned. "But we don't have a better idea. Besides, you have a much cooler head than Phinx and Nobunaga. I'm relying on you."

Machi growled at that but let go of his arm. "Damn it," she muttered and turned on her heel.

Shalnark watched her go, commiserating with her feelings. He would have liked to go to where Dancho is now too, but they had their roles to play, given to them by Dancho. The best he could do was trust in the five people he had chosen to go after Dancho.

He eyed the five of them bicker and sighed.

Trust. That was going to be difficult.

A/N: I am extremely proud of the fact that I have a much longer chapter this week. Hope you enjoyed it as well!

Trivial: Shortly after meeting the gorgeous Mr Carmen, Aysha decided that it was no good staying at the hotel all the time if there were men like that outside just waiting for a nice middle-aged woman to sweep them off their feet. So, in an attempt to get a sexy turtle-lover of her own, that very night, Aysha decided to leave the hotel in the incapable hands of her brother, Samul, and go to one of those mythical clubs she always hears tourists talking about. After all, if that blonde moron could get a man that awesome, so could she.

Five minutes after she entered the first club she saw, Aysha found herself stumbling out again, clutching her face in horror. If the strobe lights that made her feel dizzy and nauseous weren't enough, the extremely drunk and mostly naked people doing things on the floor genuinely shocked her. That was not to mention the vomit, the heat and the horrible odour of so many sweaty people squeezed into so tiny a space. And frankly, in her opinion, none of the drunk men passed out on the floor looked appetising in anyway whatsoever.

Disappointed that her first foray into the wild life of Agocchi had gone so badly, Aysha decided to forego the rest of her outing and return to the hotel before Samul burned the whole place down. It was just as well she did. Upon returning to the hotel, she found the bills in a mess, the keys to the rooms mixed up and the kitchen on fire. After sending an almost pathetically apologetic Samul off, Aysha had then rolled up her sleeve and gotten down to the tedious chore of putting out the fire.

Half-way through dousing the flames, Aysha had glanced up to find the beautiful Mr Carmen standing behind her. The eyes staring at her were black and disquietingly blank, reflecting nothing but the fires raging around them. He looked stunningly gorgeous and demonically sensual.

"Hello Mr Carmen," she had stammered.

"Hello Aysha," he had replied then turned and walked away.

And it was at that point that Aysha took the bucket of water on the ground and poured it over her head, because that was too much excitement for a middle-aged spinster for one day.