A/N: Finally! This is the sequel to A Series of Bizarre and Mildly Humourous Events! I apologize for taking so long to come out with it. In my defense, the story developed sentience and tried to kill me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story, and do remember to leave a review at the end! I'm trying to update the story one chapter a week, hopefully during the weekends when people have time to read it.
Also, some people have sent me PMs asking the order in which the Midoya-series (known as The Series series) should be read. They are as below:
First is "A Series of Beautiful Contradictions"
"A Series of Bizarre and Mildly Humourous Events"
"A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings"
Short story "A Series of Simply Adorable and Confusing Things" features Midoya, but not Kuroro (except at the very end), and is set sometime in the beginning of "A Series of Bizarre and Mildly Humourous Events".
"A Series of Enlightening First Meetings" does not feature Midoya and is, arguably, not set in Midoya's universe.
Hunter X Hunter does not belong to me. I do not own the copyright to any of these materials. This is a fanfiction written solely for the purposes of entertainment, and the views stated by the characters do not necessarily reflect the views of the author. If you wish to host this story on a site outside of fanfiction (dot) net, please contact the author for permission first.
Influenza, Quincy and the True Definition of Monstrosity
The most devastating attack of the entire campaign came around the time Kuroro decided to do the laundry.
Normally, Kuroro was not the type of person to do laundry at home. This was largely because the clothes he wore were never meant to be machine-washed. Evidently, leather and fur did not mix well with violent, jerky motions and cheap detergent. Hence, Kuroro tended to make use of the nearest laundry services whenever he could. Since Midoya wore easy to wash clothes, she did own a washing machine. However, given how busy she was lately, doing the laundry must be at the bottom of her priority list.
At least that was the conclusion Kuroro reached when he wandered into the kitchen and found a large pile of bloody clothing sitting in the middle of the floor.
"Goodness," he muttered, staring at the pile on the floor. Pivoting, he turned towards the living room and called, "Midoya! When was the last time you did your laundry?"
"I'm not sure!" Midoya shouted back. "Perhaps two weeks ago?"
"Why did you not…" Kuroro began then trailed off as he watched Midoya strangle three grown men each easily twice her size at the same time.
"Why did I not what?" Midoya questioned, peering at him from between her legs.
"Never mind," Kuroro told her considerately. "Carry on with what you're doing."
Now, Kuroro was left with the option of leaving a pile of bloody, torn clothing rotting away near the place where he normally cooked, or he could do the laundry. Deciding that having a clean, hygienic area for food preparation was more important than trying to figure out the ending of the novel (it turns out the dog's voice was only in the protagonist's head; does that mean the protagonist is insane? Is there any other possible reason why the protagonist would imagine his dog could talk? And why would the novel end with the happy resolution of the boy's trauma caused by his parent's divorce if he was insane? Was insanity perhaps… oh wait, laundry), Kuroro rolled up his sleeves and got down to the job of figuring out how to use a washing machine.
Fortunately, Kuroro Lucifer is a brilliant and intelligent young man, so the technology of it all wasn't much of an issue. It took him a little while to locate the laundry detergent (it was under the sink) and the fabric softener (it was under a different sink, in a different room, in a different apartment; he later realized that Midoya didn't use fabric softener, and that he had just stolen the bottle from her neighbour, who had happily evacuated his apartment at the first signs of trouble). After gingerly picking up the soiled clothing and tossing them in the appropriate part of the machine (he assumed, through clever deduction, that it was the large hollow in the machine), he switched it on and that was it.
Half an hour later found Kuroro lugging a basket of wet laundry to the window past Midoya battling a troupe of what appeared to be highly-trained ninja monkeys materialized out of Nen. "Thanks Kuroro!" she called out as he passed. "Just hang them by the window to dry! I have hooks outside the window!"
"Okay," Kuroro responded, absent-mindedly dodging a badly thrown shuriken. "You may want to find the Nen-user," he suggested as a decapitated monkey rose from the dead. "If you don't stop the Nen-user, the monkeys will just keep coming back."
"Excellent idea," Midoya agreed, kicking a monkey out of the window where gravity did its job but death didn't, given how the monkey simply jumped back up and started to climb up the building.
Nodding, Kuroro stopped at the window and bent down to start taking wet clothing out of the basket. The moment he straightened up, he was hit in the face by something that exploded in a cloud of white dust.
Gaping in shock, Kuroro reached up and touched his face. It was now covered with a light layer of powder. "What…" he began then broke off when he discovered he couldn't talk and sneeze at the same time.
"Kuroro?" Midoya questioned, dragging the screaming Nen-user out of the room he was hiding in and tossing him out of the window. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Kuroro frowned. "I'm not sure," he said and sneezed again. Then he coughed.
"Kuroro?" Midoya repeated, looking a little more worried.
"I'm fine," Kuroro muttered, waving irritably at the cloud of white powder around him. "It's just the dust."
"If you say so," Midoya complied doubtfully.
One hour later, he was still sneezing and coughing.
Two hours later, his throat started to hurt.
Three hours later… "Kuroro, you have a fever," Midoya said, touching his forehead. "I think you have the flu."
"Nonsense," Kuroro replied immediately. "I've never been sick a day in my life. Not even after that time I ate radioactive flowers, which killed off all the people living in my encampment then, but not me. Besides, the incubation period for the flu is seven days, and I assure you I have not been near a sick person within the past week."
"You have a fever," Midoya insisted. "Your face is flushed, your hands are clammy and you sound just like any car I've ever driven. You should go to bed."
"I do not sound like a motor vehicle being tortured to death," Kuroro protested then sneezed again. "I'm fine. You are the one who is obviously experiencing problems," he sniffed. "Why are there two of you? Did you learn to produce a doppelganger of yourself because I once mentioned I thought it would be very educational to have a threesome with you?"
"Good lord, I thought this only happened in movies and very bad fiction. No, Kuroro, there's only one of me here."
"Are you sure? Because I am quite certain I can see two of you."
"That's because you are sick, Kuroro."
"But I've never been sick…"
Midoya stared at him. Then she smiled. "Kuroro dear," she said very softly, "are you questioning my judgement?"
"Uh… no?"
"So you agree that you are sick and should retire to the bedroom to rest?" Her smile widened and something in Kuroro flinched and smiled at the same time.
"Okay," he mumbled reluctantly. "If you insist." He tried to stand up but the world foiled his attempt by swirling sideways. Then he realized that it wasn't the world that was being uncooperative, but his head, which seemed to have gotten heavier since the last time he had to lift it up. "Hey, I'm lying on your floor," he commented in surprise. "I can see lingerie under your couch. It's cute. Why haven't I ever seen you wear that before?"
"Probably because it's been under the couch for a while, but let's leave that for later, shall we?" Midoya carefully pulled him to his feet. "Put your arm around me and let's get you to bed."
"Okay," Kuroro agreed, because it seemed easier than disagreeing. With some effort, they got him to the bedroom where Midoya lowered him as slowly as she could onto the bed, which turned out to be warmer and fluffier than Kuroro remembered.
"Are you comfortable?" Midoya asked, rearranging pillows and blankets around him.
"Yes," Kuroro replied dreamily. "I think we need to retexture your ceiling."
"Retexture my ceiling?"
"Mmm. With something soft… and fuzzy. Like… velvet. Velvet wallpapers. Blue velvet wallpapers."
"Oh dear," Midoya muttered, sounding horrified. "Well. I'm going to find an ice pack and some water. Just… stay put."
"Okay," Kuroro replied dreamily and then fell asleep.
When he woke up, there was a lukewarm ice pack on his head and an old man leaning over him, frizzy white hair almost tickling his nose.
"Ah-choo," Kuroro said in greeting and the old man winced.
"It seems you are the one who got infected by Influenza Virus Type Z-014," the old man said in a very familiar voice.
"Are you the ghost of someone I killed once?" Kuroro asked, trying to place the voice.
"No, I am Quincy," the old man said, looking down his nose at Kuroro. "That would be Dr Quincy to you, young man."
"Okay," Kuroro agreed then the part of his mind that rebelled automatically against any form of authority reasserted itself by kicking violently at the back of his brain. That cleared some of the fever-induced haze in his mind and he sat up to get a better look at the old man peering at him short-sightedly. "You are the scientist Midoya mentioned. You said I was infected," he said, sniffling. "Explain." He briefly wondered where Midoya was, but the sound of intense fighting from the living room answered that for him.
"Explain it to you?" the man called Quincy exclaimed, looking horrified. "My dear boy, your brain is hardly advanced enough to understand the biomechanics behind what has happened to you. Do you expect me to explain how I used a mixture of Nen and nanotechnology to alter the ribonucleic acid of the Orthomyxoviridae genus Influenzavirus A to shorten the incubation period and… oh, you wouldn't be able to understand it! It will take months before your inferior frontal lobe would be able to comprehend it all, if it ever does! Finding the perfect balance between Nen and nanotechnology is already complicated enough as it is. The specifics of how the combination alters the RNA at the most…"
"Then give me the layman's version of it," Kuroro interrupted, trying to ignore his throbbing head.
"Layman's version?" Kuroro would not have thought that screechy, prissy voice could go any higher. "How do you expect me to condense the advanced science of this into layman terms? It is impossible! Suffice it to be said that you are now down with the flu."
"I gathered as much," Kuroro said, keeping his annoyance out of his voice. "Now, let me try to clear things up, since you're doing nothing more than muddy the waters."
"Me? Muddy the waters? How dare…"
"The blow I took to the face earlier this day," Kuroro interrupted, "it was a dose of an altered flu virus that was designed to manifest symptoms in the shortest time possible."
"Well yes. Isn't that what I just said?" Quincy whined. "And may I just add that the virus was meant for Midoya, not you. It was very inconsiderate of you to get infected instead, young man. Very inconsiderate."
Kuroro sighed and rubbed his aching temples. "Is this strain fatal?" he asked wearily.
"Well, that depends entirely on you, of course," Quincy said, looking interested now. "I can see that you are quite a strong Nen-user and undoubtedly fit and in the prime of life. The chances of you dying should be about twenty per cent, unless you happen to have a disease that affects your immune system or unless you are very unlucky and the infection spreads to your lungs. I did not make any alterations to the potency of the viral strain, despite calls to do otherwise. I would still prefer to capture my test subject alive. There are just some things you can't do with dead bodies."
"So this is a form of biological warfare," Kuroro concluded. "You wanted to infect Midoya with the flu to lower her fighting capabilities. Hopefully that would give the Hunter's Association the chance to attack her, perhaps even take her alive."
"Of course that's what happened," Quincy said impatiently. "Did it take you that long to figure things out? Inferior frontal lobe, I say, inferior and probably useless too. Now, take off your clothes."
Kuroro blinked. "Excuse me?" he demanded.
"What? Did you think I came all the way up here to watch you sleep and listen to your nonsensical prattling?" Quincy shook his head. "I came up here to observe the progression of my virus. So go on! Take off your clothes so I can do a thorough examination of you. This is the first time the virus has been tried on a human subject and I have no idea how fast the infection will advance in the human body. I'll need to take X-rays of your chest, most certainly and…"
"I am not letting you examine me," Kuroro protested stubbornly.
"Why not?" Quincy asked, looking surprised.
"You infected me," Kuroro said, his voice coming out as a growl due to his sore throat, "you are the enemy. I have no reason to listen to you or do anything that would benefit you in any way."
"Oh, don't be irrational. It was all in the name of science. Don't be stubborn now. Off with your clothes." Thin, claw-like hands started to grope at him and Kuroro slapped them away.
"Go away," he growled, "or I will kill you."
"Stubborn, stubborn," Quincy scolded. "Don't make me come up there, boy."
Something in Kuroro snapped. The pounding in his head and the stuffed nose were not helpful in maintaining a peaceful state of mind. Besides, he was sick, which gave him sufficient excuse to behave irrationally. So he whipped out his book and summoned the Nen fish.
"No!" Quincy said sharply, in the tone of voice one might use on a naughty puppy. Nen flooded the withered, hunched-over figure and a deformed humanoid figure appeared over Quincy, looming down over Kuroro menacingly. A face like a voodoo doll's split in a huge, pointy grin and thin Nen threads leapt out from curved claws, wrapping around Kuroro's arm. On its own, Kuroro's right hand clamped shut, closing the book along with it. Immediately, the Nen fish disintegrated with a frustrated howl.
"Ouch," Kuroro commented, eyeing the thin Nen strings that were now wrapped around him. Well, that was inconvenient.
"Now see what you made me do," Quincy groaned, looking disappointed. "Now I have to take exposure to my Nen into the equation when evaluating the evidence I collect from you. All you have accomplished, young man, is to complicate the matter. I hope you are ashamed of yourself. Now, let us get on with the examination. We really have wasted too much time."
Quincy advanced upon Kuroro, drawing a scalpel. On the general principle that men pointing pointy objects at him did not deserve to be treated with basic courtesy, Kuroro kicked him in the face.
"Stop that!" Quincy screeched, trying to dodge Kuroro's kick and ending up spinning wildly to the side.
"You stop that," Kuroro retorted, launching another swift kick that snapped the old man's head back sharply.
Fortunately, just as Kuroro's virtue was in danger, Midoya entered the bedroom, an automatic machine gun in her hands. She took one look at the situation and wordlessly turned the weapon on Quincy.
"No!" Quincy wailed in frustration and scuttled for the bedroom window just as Midoya opened fire.
Evidently the machine gun had been altered for Nen-users because the bullets that erupted from them were made of Nen. Glowing with Nen, Midoya advanced on the retreating figure, gun blazing furiously. However, the withered old man was fast for someone that old. He reached the window, paused only to declare that he will be back, and jumped out.
"Damn, almost got him," Midoya commented casually to her shredded curtains. She turned around and regarded Kuroro. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes," Kuroro replied, slumping over the pillows wearily. "I now have ample knowledge of how it feels like to be sick, and have made a resolution to never be sick ever again." He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his stuffed nose. After a while, he realized Midoya had not replied. With a great exertion of will, he forced his eyelids up so he could look at her. Midoya was looking at him, an odd expression on her face. It took Kuroro a while to realize what was wrong with her expression. "You're thinking seriously about something," he mumbled intelligently. "You're worried. You are seriously worried. Oh dear, Midoya, I believe I am still hallucinating."
Midoya's eyes focused on him, eyebrows lifted slightly then she laughed. "Fear not, Kuroro. You are not hallucinating. I am worried," she agreed. Briskly, she leaned forward and felt his forehead. "You'll be sick for another day or two," she commented.
"Just kill me," Kuroro replied with great dignity.
Instead of sticking a knife through his heart, Midoya said, "Cough syrup and aspirin", placing a bottle and a tube of pills on the bed stand. "Now, with regards to our slightly more immediate situation," she said thoughtfully, "the elections were null again."
"Again?" Kuroro mumbled, trying to read the instructions on the bottle, but failing because his mutinous eyes refused to cooperate by watering all over his cheeks.
"There were not enough votes to settle on a Chairman," Midoya explained. "This is the second time the elections have been held, and still no luck. Quite surprising really; given who is in the lead, I would have expected the elections to end really quickly in his favour. However, it seems the elections are going to continue for a while. That means the attacks aren't going to stop. I've tried everything I can to get out of this. I've sent out messages telling people to stop voting for me, but the only reply I got was that all hunters are candidates and I didn't have a say in who votes for me."
"Huh," Kuroro replied intelligently, wondering if he should just drink the whole bottle. What was the worst that could happen? Surely cough syrup wasn't as poisonous as arsenic (it was a long story, but Kuroro survived).
Finally noticing his dilemma, Midoya took the bottle from him a poured a little into a spoon. "They are going to keep attacking us," she repeated, feeding him the cough syrup. "And they will keep coming up with more creative ways to attack us. It is going to get more and more difficult to defend against them, especially since they have Quincy on their side. Take your illness, for example. If Quincy had been mean enough to use a fatal strand of the disease, you would be dead."
"Ack," Kuroro complained, gagging around the horrible-tasting liquid. His throat clenched up and threatened to spew the contents of his stomach over the bed.
"Swallow," Midoya ordered in a tone of voice that made Kuroro see how well she would wear the boots and whips.
Painfully, Kuroro held his breath and swallowed. Gagging again, he fumbled for a glass of water, glaring at Midoya. "Ack," he repeated, just in case she didn't realize the torture she was inflicting on him.
"It is time to change strategy," Midoya said, ignoring Kuroro's hurt and accusing stare. "We don't have the luxury of holding fort in here till the end of the elections, since we don't even know when the elections will end. It is always pointless to fight a war that only ends when your enemy wants it to. We need to regain the initiative in this little skirmish."
"You want to counter-attack?" Kuroro asked dizzily, trying to rinse the horrible taste out of his mouth with a glass of water. "Not a good idea." He paused. "I'll tell you why when I stop feeling so ill, because I can't remember why it's a bad idea at the moment."
Midoya fell silent again. "We'll see about that," she said finally. "In the meantime…" Smiling cruelly, she held out another spoonful of cough syrup, "you're supposed to take another spoonful."
"Kill me," Kuroro grumbled, "just kill me."
A couple of days later, Kuroro woke up feeling a lot healthier and a lot less suicidal. For a moment, he lay absolutely still, revelling in the ability to breathe easily. It was amazing how a bout of illness can open one's eyes to what is truly important in life. All this time, Kuroro had been rampaging around stealing things and murdering people, he could have been devoting his life to other things with more meaning; like getting rid of the flu. He was certain if the Ryodan put their minds to it, they would be able to get rid of the flu virus forever and he wouldn't have to suffer from this horrible illness ever again. The clue, he mused, was probably not in destroying the virus but in altering it so it wouldn't affect him…
With that happy thought in mind, Kuroro sluggishly crawled out of bed, determined to rinse the taste of disease and stale cough syrup out of his mouth. Stumbling a little, he dragged himself lethargically towards the bathroom, bypassing Midoya stabbing a woman in the back and Pepeka crushing the skull of a full grown lion. Yawning, he entered the bathroom and splashed water onto his face. After completing the necessary morning rituals, he dragged himself out.
"Good morning, Kuroro," Midoya said pleasantly, pushing a corpse under her dining table for future disposable. "You are looking much better today."
"Good morning Midoya," he replied. "Yes, I am feeling much better." He paused as his mind reprocessed the scene before him and informed him there was a person there that wasn't previously there. "Hello Pepeka. What are you doing here?" he asked belatedly, as the humanoid-shaped hole in his universe finally condensed into the form of a tall, extremely muscular man in a plain muscle-tee and jeans.
"Wow," Pepeka Timbal, tall, buff, and smelling of soap and blood commented, "he really is totally out of it, like you said, sensei." Leaning forward, he crushed Kuroro's cold hand in a powerful handshake. "Thanks for protecting sensei against the flu virus," he said solemnly. "I'm sorry I couldn't come by earlier. I was still trying to figure out what the fuck was happening to sensei. Turns out, no one knows what is happening either. Most people I talked to just said she was to be killed for something while others thought that news of the attack on sensei was just false rumours spread on the Net."
"Of course." Kuroro stared at his hand, squashed painfully in the powerful hand. "Are you being polite to me?" he asked dubiously. "Because the Pepeka I knew was probably the most vulgar person I've ever met, and seeing you be polite is confusing for me, especially in my weakened state."
The handshake froze in mid-shake. "What the fuck?" Pepeka demanded, face turning red with outrage. "What the fuck does that mean?"
"Ah, it is you. Just checking. It is nice to see you again." Kuroro extracted his hand quickly before Pepeka could react and smiled charmingly. "What have I missed? I feel like I've been disconnected from the world for a long time."
"What the… I thought getting your Nen back and being sick would have mellowed you out," Pepeka grumbled. "You're still the same old motherfucker."
"Correction, Pepeka: I do not know who my mother is, so it is literally impossible for me to have…"
"Oh my god, do not complete that sentence."
"If you insist." Kuroro smiled sweetly and turned back to Midoya. "So, what has happened while I was dead to the world?"
"Well, Shalnark called," Midoya said thoughtfully. "He was wondering where you were and when you were going back. He sounded quite panicked too. I heard fighting in the background and some mention of dead bodies in the shape of an inverted cross. I have no idea what that means though. Perhaps your Ryodan are robbing Satanists?"
"One can only wish. So, Shalnark called. Why does he have your number? You didn't tell him I was here, did you?"
"Oh, I mentioned I might have seen you somewhere, but you weren't free at the moment, which was true. When he called, you were heavily drugged and unconscious. And, I gave him my number the last time when you just had your little curse removed. It was practically the first thing he asked from me. Should I let him know that you are feeling much better now?"
"Please defer that for the moment," Kuroro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I do not feel well enough to deal with the Ryodan at the moment. What else has happened?"
"Pepeka and I decided on a number of plans to counter-attack with. We have a Plan A, B, C and D already. Aren't you proud of us?"
"Very. But Midoya, do you truly intend to fight back? It's one thing to defend yourself against the attacks, but another to take the initiative and attack them," Kuroro said dubiously. "That would bring the whole Association down on you."
"Ah, but that depends on how I fight back."
Settling down on the couch, Kuroro accepted a cup of hot tea from Pepeka while eyeing a suspiciously cheerful Midoya. "It seems to be that you are planning something utterly devious and manipulative," he said slowly. "Would you care to tell me about it?"
"Oh, I can do better," Midoya purred, wide grin spreading across her face. "I can show you."
The screen of the television flickered. With the sluggishness of aged technology, the grey screen of static gradually gained colour. Eventually, the pixels solidified into a picture. The picture contained only one thing; a shot of Midoya's living room, covered with blood. Then the camera panned to the left and revealed Pepeka sitting on the loveseat, looking ragged and exhausted.
"Citizens of York Shin, Hunters of the Hunter's Association, I am Pepeka Timbal," the image of Pepeka said seriously, blue eyes fixed intensely on the camera. "Some of you may know me as a blacklist hunter. However, I am not here today as a Hunter. I am here as a human being, as a student and as a friend." Slowly, Pepeka rubbed his red eyes then appeared to pull himself together through sheer mental strength. "I was Blacklist Hunter Midoya's disciple, as some of you would know, and I speak today on her behalf. Please…" The deep, masculine voice cracked with emotion. "Please, stop attacking her. This has gone too far. I…"
"You're doing things the wrong way round," a feminine voice, strong with quiet authority interrupted then Midoya walked into the frame. "I appreciate the effort, but I think this message is best said by me." She was dressed in torn clothing, covered with blood. A cut was open on her cheek and still bleeding. "Citizens, Hunters, I am Blacklist Hunter Midoya," she said, her voice firm and sure. "As you have undoubtedly heard, I have been under the attack of several factions within the Hunter's Association for an entire month. They have accused me of various crimes; robbery and murder among other things." Her eyes seemed to grow larger as she spoke. "Some of their accusations date back decades to a time when I was but a young fledging, unsure of my powers and the things I could do with them. I am sure many of you know what I speak of. I will stop there in respect of the previous Chairman's rules regarding the Hunter's Exams. For days, I have been a prisoner in my own apartment while powerful Hunters lay siege against me for charges that they claim justify my death." With a deep breath, Midoya straightened her back though a shudder ran through her body. "I have been forced to kill again and again in defence of myself and my disciple. Yet, the attacks never ceased. Just a few days ago, some of the Hunters used biological warfare against my apartment. Though I managed to contain it to my apartment, there was still a huge risk that it could have spread to the neighbouring apartments, causing a city-wide epidemic." Midoya's eyes seemed to swell though her expression didn't change. "Please, Hunters of the Hunter's Association, those with the most level and rational minds," she said in a trembling voice, full of heart-rending strength and sweet vulnerability. "Please intervene with the Hunters attacking my apartment before innocent civilians are hurt. I would surrender if I had the slightest hope I would not be executed immediately on trumped up charges." Her face dipped as she turned it to the side, allowing her messy, curly hair to fall over her face.
Reassuringly, Pepeka took her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I hope this broadcast reaches someone who can help," he said bravely. "And we can only hope that it is not too late for us and the citizens of York Shin City." He hesitated as if he wanted to say more. Then he shook his head, looking weary and heroic at the same time. "Goodbye," he said instead then turned his face away from the camera. The screen started to fade, but not before Midoya lifted her head slightly to reveal her face, full of stubborn pride, strength and tears.
"So, what do you think?" Midoya asked with great relish, switching off the television.
"I think that you are a monster," Kuroro replied, impressed and horrified at the same time, "a dreadful, dreadful monster."
Within a few hours, Midoya's laptop started to beep, indicating someone was trying to initiate a video call with her. Rearranging her face into the appropriate mask of world-weariness, Midoya sat down before her laptop and accepted the call.
The face of a young man, more beautiful than handsome, but strong and confident sprang onto the screen. Neat, blonde hair framed large eyes and a wide, charming smile accentuated by dimples. Kuroro took one look at the face and disliked it instinctively. "Midoya," the young man exclaimed, looking positively ecstatic to see her. "It's been a while." The smile sparkled with great sincerity and genuine joy.
Immediately, the façade of weariness fell off Midoya's face and she smiled back wryly. "Pariston," she greeted. "I thought you would be the one to try and contact me."
"Oh? My, you have such faith in me," the young man, presumably Pariston laughed, looking pleased.
"But of course," Midoya agreed. "The broadcast was targeted at you really. I knew you wouldn't pass the chance to capitalize on my misfortune."
"My dear, I really have no idea what you're talking about," Pariston said, his eyes glinting. Then his head tilted slightly and he said, "Beans, will you be so kind as to get me a cup of tea?" The message was clear: he wasn't alone.
"You are Vice-Chairman of the Hunter's Association after all," Midoya went on smoothly, as if she hadn't been interrupted. "If Hunters are acting in a way that could discredit the Association, of course you would move against them."
"Of course I would," Pariston said, his voice brimming with concern. "You have no idea how shocked and horrified I was to receive that broadcast you sent out. Your situation must be dire indeed, if you resorted to this. How are you doing? How is Pepeka? I've always admired your disciple's talents, and would be devastated if he was hurt in any way."
"We're fine," Midoya replied, her voice just a tinge colder than usual. "However, we are getting a little tired of being cooped up in here. Is there any way you can help us, Pariston?"
"Ah, that's the problem." Pariston paused, looking worried. "As much as I would like to, I can't call off the attacks on you."
"Why not?"
"Well, the unfortunate thing about this situation is that the charges raised against you are legitimate. Given that they are legitimate, the entire Zodiac has to vote and agree unanimously that these charges should be dropped. However, as you must have guessed by now, the attacks on you must be funded and directed by someone high up in the chain of command, most likely a Zodiac. There is no way I can override the charges on my own."
"Huh." Midoya's eyes narrowed. "But?"
The smile sparkled again. "But, if you can make it to the Hunter's Association Port City Base where I am located, I can provide asylum for you. If you are under my protection, even Quincy wouldn't dare move against you. The Hunter's Association is in a great state of imbalance now. Attacking you, a Hunter with a rather spotted past is one thing; attacking the Vice-Chairman of the association who has the top votes and who has not committed any crime is quite another. Once you are under my protection, I will inform the rest of the Zodiac members that you are currently under my custody. That should be enough to stop the attacks. Of course, you will not really be in custody. You can leave whenever you like. I'll also try to set up negotiations between you and the hunters attacking you. It is the only thing I can do for you, dear Midoya."
Midoya hesitated, finger pressed to her lips. "Okay," she said slowly. "What sort of payment do you require?"
"Payment? Pshaw, dear heart. Nothing of that sort. I would only be too pleased to help you," Pariston beamed, practically glowing with sincerity. "You were Chairman Netero's last disciple after all. The best way to honour his memory is to honour his legacy, and you are a big part of his legacy. He was always very proud of you."
"I see," Midoya replied, dimpling sweetly at him. "I am very grateful for your assistance, Pariston. I will see you at the Port City HQ."
"Best of luck, my dear," Pariston said and his image dissolved into a blank screen.
Midoya shut the laptop calmly then turned to look at the two men staring at her. "That Pariston," she said mildly. "I knew he would be the first to contact me. He is a politician through and through, and what better way to earn points with the voters than by protecting the defenceless, vulnerable last disciple of Chairman Netero, one of the most respected Hunters in the history of the Hunter's Association? I knew it was going to go down like this, but my goodness, that man still pisses me off. This is so hard to swallow."
"Now you know how I felt about the cough mixture," Kuroro told her unsympathetically. She ignored his comment with great dignity.
"So what now?" Pepeka asked uneasily. "Are we going to do as he says? I don't trust that weasel."
"Yes," Midoya agreed. "But at the very least, we know that we can trust Pariston to not be trustworthy. Let's prepare for the long march to the Port City HQ, and let's come up with plans to backstab Pariston if he backstabs us. In fact, just to be safe, we should come up with plans to backstab Pariston even if he doesn't backstab us."
"That sounds complicated, sensei."
"It's not, dear Pepeka. It's simple politics."
"Alright," Pepeka agreed, climbing reluctantly to his feet. "If you say so, sensei."
Kuroro eyed Midoya, shook his head disapprovingly and muttered, "Politicians."
"You know," Midoya said, as she sat on her luggage to shut it, "you don't have to come along."
"No, I disagree," Kuroro replied immediately. "Pepeka should definitely come along. If he is left here…"
"I was talking about you, Kuroro," Midoya interrupted, amused.
"Oh." Kuroro checked to make sure his phone and wallet (resources dwindling; need to steal something soon) were in their respective pockets. "Why wouldn't I come along?" he asked.
"I'm just saying, you don't have to," Midoya said with a shrug. "You could leave now, return to the Ryodan. I doubt the HA will go after you."
"I don't want to leave now," Kuroro replied. "I'm still taking a break from the Ryodan, and what's happening to you now is something to occupy myself. It is definitely more interesting than just sitting around in someone else's apartment reading."
"Okay, if you say so." Midoya smiled at him warmly then bent over to latch up her bag.
"I do say so," Kuroro agreed. "Besides, I still want you in my Ryodan. That's not going to happen if you are dead… or Chairman of the Hunter's Association. I am afraid I must confess to being heavily invested in you staying alive and not winning this election."
"Of course, Kuroro," Midoya laughed, eyes glowing with amusement. "Of course. I should definitely hire you as my public relations manager. My reputation after you're done with it will be positively wicked."
A/N: And this is the third chapter! I'm not too sure how I feel about this chapter. I confess to liking a touch of childishness in Kuroro, and that came out in this chapter. I hope it was to your liking, dear reader. Just in case it wasn't, the trivial below is a gift to those who prefer the cold-blooded, highly practical Kuroro.
Trivial: If Kuroro did become Midoya's public relations manager, there were a couple of things he would do for her public image. First, he would spread the word that Midoya had contacted a highly contagious disease that also had a very high mortality rate. To further that image, he would confine her, the best he could, in a room with no access to the outer world. Over time, he would continue to spread the word of her deteriorating health. Any visitors coming to find her will be duly turned back to prevent the 'spread' of the disease. At the suitable time, he would announce she was dead, get rid of her entire estate and destroy her Hunter license. Once that was accomplished, she would have no choice but to join the Ryodan, having lost everything she had ever built in her life. What can he say; he did want her in his Ryodan very badly.
Or maybe he wouldn't do that. After all, even if he succeeded and Midoya ended up joining the Ryodan, she would probably stop having sex with him on the general principle that she did not have sex with backstabbing bastards, and that would be just sad.