A/N: Dyaran, dayaran. Here is the last chapter for Reserved Cross (Ahh at last!). I ended this tonight because we have something important to do tomorrow, and I probably won't be able to face this typing matter for the entire day. So there.

I like how it ends, I guess. This thing's been bugging me since who-knows-when, even before I started the Kuroro end chapter, so I guess it was a relief to put it out. You know how it is to hold your breath for thirty seconds, before letting it out? That. That's how it feels.

People might think the last line from Kurapika would be familiar. Yes. I just changed the name. It was from Fushigi-Yuugi, respectfully by Arakawa-sensei, if I remember right. It was Nuriko's last line, too. [He was cool too, and also bishounen looking ;)]

Kirana is imaginary. Supposed to be his sister. At first it was Karana, [from Melody] but I realized that would be plagiarism - it appeared in Scott O'Dell's Island of the blue dolphins. So it's Kirana. I haven't read anything with Kirana yet. Tell me.

I should stop babbling.

THE FINAL DISCLAIMER: I. Do. Not. Own. HxH.

The moon cast a scary, hallow, sullen, dim glow on the two warriors. Each brought up to fight. Each fighting for survival. Each fighting for a reason. Each with a will so powerful.

"Stop playing child-games, Kuruta," the older man hissed, "and fight like a warrior!"

They've been swinging weapons since God-knows-when, and they were both getting tired. As for their injuries, there was nothing major. For the Kuruta, a gash on his right arm, extending from elbow to almost-wrist, and for the Spider, a tiny incision on his cheek, vertically, maybe at least two inches long.

Obviously, Kuroro was on the upper hand.

Kurapika, even though silenced and without a word, had eyes that shouted, 'You will pay for your sins!' His determination was also scary, and reeked out with his glowing nen. The mere feel of it would send a shudder down a normal, easy-to-scare I'm-not-used-to-death person's spine.

But Kurapika was also weakening. The gash on his arm – caused by the Benz knife – was bleeding profusely, and the infection was coming in, together with the paralyzing poison. It started five minutes ago, and still continued to spread on his body. He can barely move his arm. The poison was sliding in him, and now, suffocating him. It twirled on the edges of his left knee, and he slumped down.

Kurapika stared at the ground, watching his blood drip quickly on the gray cement. He can barely see the difference of the color of the blood to his tribal outfit, the cement, or even his arm. Everything was red to the eyes, to the point color was really undistinguishable.

The only thing he could distinguish, really, was the older man's deadly nen, sweeping around him in a slow twirl of circles. It was a waltz of cold spirits that could kill in one strike. It was a threat, a danger.

But Kurapika wouldn't give up on a man like him. No. Not when he killed his entire tribe. No. He mustn't give up. He might die in the process, but it would be okay if he could drag him to hell, too.

Kurapika, even though wobbling, stood up. His left hand gripped his right elbow, wishing the pain, that throb that existed from the bleeding wound, would stop.

"Let's go."

In a flash, chain met blade and only the rustle of clothing proved something was moving. They were too fast, you wouldn't even see them move. They both relied on hearing to know where the other was.

When they both landed back on the ground, Kurapika staggered. There was a cut on his throat, and a rather deep one, running across his vocal chords. He fell on the ground.

Kuroro walked over to him, checking if he's still able to stand and walk, and fight. What he saw instead, was a mess of a human. He was literally bathing in his own blood. Blood sputtered out of his throat, and out his arm, draining everything like a fountain gone out of control. This one, though, was a fountain of blood. And Kuroro was used to it, anyway.

Sun in the sky, trees on the ground.

Our bodies created from the earth,

Our souls from the heavens.

The sun and the moon shines on our limbs,

And the ground moistens our body.

Giving this body the wind that blows.

Thank god for the miracle

And the Kuruta territories.

Even though very faint, Kuroro could hear the whisperings of a prayer coming out from the younger man's lips. It was weaker than a whisper, and even weaker than a murmur. It was barely audible.

Wishing to share everlasting peace in our souls

I desire to share the mirth with my people

I desire to share their sadness.

God please praise eternally

The Kuruta people.

Let our Blazing Scarlet eyes…

Kuroro's eyes widened exponentially when he saw the blond's eyes turn even more red, bleak with blood. But he was more surprised when a powerful constriction was felt in his chest, very fast, and he didn't even get to guard himself. The pain was very familiar, very, very so.

…bear witness…

"Yes, Lucifer," the lad managed to utter as Kuroro started to convulse with the pain Kurapika directed on his heart. "You may have gotten me, but I have gotten you too."

…for one last time.

"I… will drag you to hell." He pulled his middle finger up and the blade pierced Kuroro's heart. It was silent torture to the older man, and he slumped on the ground, lifeless.

Kurapika smiled, staring at the bright cast of light the moon was showing to him.

Kirana, it's you. He closed his eyes and reached out a hand to her. How long have you been here?

And he disappeared with the light.