Disclaimer: I do not own HunterxHunter

Story so far: It was the inevitable; Ishtar had to die in Kuroro's hands. With her death, they were rightfully given the permission to hunt down the Ifrit. How would it end? Would they really earn their freedom at long last?


Chapter 25

INTERCESSION


They stood side by side in amiable silence, both looking at the small grave that they had made to respect Ishtar's death. It was a simple grave, located not far from Morgan le Fay's lake where her dusts had drowned into, with a small tombstone with Ishtar's name carved on it.

After the downpour during Ishtar's death, both of them stayed in the temple, not bothering to change their soaked clothes and had instead locked themselves in Ishtar's sandalwood fragranced room. It had been Kuroro's unspoken wish, and Kurapika had simply complied with his whims. She had tolerated him, even as he rested his head on her shoulder again and drifted to sleep as they sat in the dark corner of the room with their backs against the cold wall.

"Do you want me to tell you where I buried Uvogin?" Kurapika suddenly asked with small voice while her eyes were still fixed on the small mound by the lake.

"You buried him?"

She nodded.

"Thank you."

He flashed a thin smile, and his countenance once more betrayed nothing of his immense feeling of loss. Kurapika, however, had mastered the art of seeing right through that endless darkness of his eyes; she was now able to read what lay behind that stoic face. Though it gave a disturbing implication on Kurapika's part, she did not struggle against that fact as she usually did. She was tired of pointless struggle against the inevitable.

Wordlessly, Kuroro turned around and walked away. Kurapika silently followed after him, only stopping to spare the last glance at Ishtar's humble grave. Ishtar was her enemy's 'mother', but she could feel the tremendous loss in her heart when she died – as if Ishtar was her mother as well. She shuddered at the thought. Was it because in her blood was Ishtar's blood as well; one that she received from Kuroro?

Kurapika looked at Kuroro's back. Would she feel the same heartbreaking loss when the man died? After all, they shared the same blood, not to mention that she had a piece of his Nen inside her.

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the day when Kuroro died—and the result was terrifying. Her heart suddenly missed a beat as a picture of her standing all alone in darkness flashed in her mind. With haste and fear Kurapika snapped open her eyes, only to again look at Kuroro's solitary back. The sensation had been unnerving. The feeling of being alone without him…

It's frightening…she admitted to herself. Then a more horrifying realisation hit her hard, and it felt like pouring salts on open wound. I will never be able to kill him, won't I? She thought bitterly, and it was true in the sense of skill, power, and bond. Her bond with him ran too much deep because of the accursed bind, but they were going to severe it soon enough. She tried to smile with satisfaction to herself at that thought, but could not.

Kuroro suddenly slowed down, blissfully unaware of the mental struggle that Kurapika was undergoing just some paces behind him, as he spotted Scheherazade waiting for them at the gate of the temple. Kuroro narrowed his eyes, and continued walking towards the gate.

As soon as Kuroro was near enough, the woman straightened up and blocked his way to the door. She gave him an even smile, raised an arm and pointed her closed fist to Kuroro.

"Here, for you." The woman said huskily as she opened her fist, revealing a small egg in her palm. "Your reward from Isthar."

Kurapika flinched at the name, but Kuroro only silently picked the egg delicately with his fingers from her hand. He examined it briefly, before he looked up and stared at the woman with accusing eyes.

"This is the egg that we returned to her," he hissed.

"And Ishtar is giving it back to you." Scheherazade said coolly.

Just as Kuroro opened his mouth to protest, the egg cracked lightly. Both Kurapika and Kuroro looked at it with wonder. Previously, no matter how harsh and rough the egg was treated, it would not crack. When the egg was finally thoroughly broken, it revealed the inside of it – a ring.

Gingerly Kuroro took out the ring and examined it. It was a ring made of brass and iron, with a carving of words that he did not understand, four jewels and a very prominent golden symbol of Star of David. Kuroro's eyes widened ever so slightly as realization dawned on him.

"The Solomon Ring," he whispered disbelievingly.

"One and only." The woman nodded. "A legendary ring that contains 72 demons. It will be your last, solid defence against Deifri. However, the problem lies in the fact that you have not mastered the ring's power yet."

"Master it?" Kurapika squeaked. She had no idea that she would ever stumble across the real Solomon Ring.

"If you can master it, you will have 72 demons at your disposal, ready to carry out any wishes you have." Scheherazade smiled at him, more like a devil tempting him than explaining to him.

Kuroro said nothing for a while, only staring at the ring silently until he finally looked up slowly and stared hard at the woman.

"What do you have to say about this ring?" He asked cautiously.

Scheherazade smiled with at him—just like Ishtar told her, the boy had pretty sharp mind and perspective.

"The ring has lost its previous master—who was Ishtar—and therefore it has recognised you as its next master."

"I don't suppose it's that easy and fast for the ring to recognise its new master." Kuroro narrowed his eyes suspiciously, sensing that the woman had left out tiny-wee-bit of information.

Scheherazade now grinned impishly.

"Oho…Smart boy." She nodded with approval at him. "True. The egg you've been carrying in your journey analysed and absorbed your energy, accumulating data on your personality, ideals, way of thinking, and other things over time. Those energy and data are then processed by the ring to determine whether you are worthy to be its master or not. You know the rest of it."

All the while Scheherazade answered the young man's questions flatly with her soft, husky voice; depicting her easygoing yet distant personality. Kurapika's eyes widened upon getting one rather disturbing realization: Ishtar might have gotten herself killed by them so that she could pass down the Solomon Ring to Kuroro for his protection. She glanced at Kuroro, who was taking everything in awfully calmly. There was no expression whatsoever on his face; only blank, unreadable visage. It was like looking at the face of the old Kuroro Lucifer—one who had been the ruthless, heartless leader of the Geneir Ryodan.

"I see." He finally said, his tone perfectly composed.

"Wait a minute." Kurapika suddenly cut in sharply. She looked at Scheherazade with a hard stare. "Suzaku said that a child will be born from it, not a ring."

Kuroro raised an eyebrow. Yes, he had almost forgotten that part. He turned to regard the woman with a questioning look. The said woman raised one perfect eyebrow and folded her arms across her ample chest. She then frowned. And then she finally gave away one crooked smile.

"He fooled you." She said with a light giggle. "No, since the beginning there is no child whatsoever to be born from it."

"WHAT?" Kurapika squeaked in a voice akin to that of a squeezed mouse.

Oh, how Kurapika felt like teleporting to wherever Suzaku was and started beating him senseless. How could he lie through his teeth like that! Him and his cousin the Phoenix—both were dangerous liars! Kurapika was already seething mad and was clenching her fists in wrath, but Kuroro seemed placid as ever.

"And?" He asked calmly.

"I'll be your guide to Defiri's lair. Tell me whenever you are ready to depart."

With that, Scheherazade turned and left them alone.


The night was dead and cold. The breeze was chilly and cooling, but that was exactly that he needed. The window to Kuroro's room was opened to welcome all fresh air, while Kuroro stood by it, embracing all coldness the wind could offer him. He had a cold shower, but it did little to help alleviate the pensiveness in him. He had never felt so emotional yet so expressionless before.

Kurapika observed him quietly from her seat on the bed they shared. Embarrassing as it was, they had to share a bed together since they had no spare beds whatsoever. They slept with their back to each other, though. Suddenly, the matter about Kurapika's missing backpack was trivial (she had given Phinks an uncaring, blank stare when he was stuttering something about the issue). She kept her eyes glued to Kuroro's back.

The more he felt restless, the more she felt it too. She laughed at the irony. Why would she be affected on what he was feeling? The man had slyly sealed her fate: she would never be able to kill him for all matters, not in her lifetime. She recalled the moment when she had been terrified to find herself without him. The recollection alone mortified her to the extent that her blood ran cold.

Why is this all happening to me? What's wrong with me? She whimpered pathetically to herself, while burying her face into her propped up knees. She felt so helpless.

Is it because of the piece of his Nen inside me? Can I…She became reluctant. …purge it out of my system?

No, actually, the real question would be: Do I have the will to purge it?

"Kurapika."

His soft voice ripped her from her tumultuous mind and she whipped her head to look up. Oceanic blue eyes were met with dead black eyes. He was tired, she knew, and so without saying anything she shifted to give him his portion of the bed. Wordlessly, he lay down on the bed but this time he did not give her his back. Instead, he lay so that he was facing her. He had a question that had been bothering him since Isthar's death.

Is it really worth it to have Ishtar dead in exchange of breaking the bind?

Honestly, if he had to juggle the pros and cons, he really did not mind putting up with Kurapika. She had been pleasant lately, notably after the 'Scarlet Tears' event. Was it a fair bargain to lose his only 'mother' so that he could get away from Kurapika? The thought had never crossed his mind earlier before Ishtar's confrontation and death.

Is it really worth it? He mentally struggled.

At first Kurapika ignored his incessant stare and she went on with her own disturbed thought, but over time she could not stand it.

"What?" She snapped rudely at him. He was not fazed.

"Talk to me." He simply said.

"Huh?" She blinked at him.

"Distract me." He rephrased his words.

Kurapika's eyes softened and she looked away. Well, at least he was humane enough to have the need to be distracted from his emotions, and she would tolerate him for that. She swallowed lightly and tried to think of what to say to him. She fiddled with her toes while he kept his stare steady on her.

"I wonder how you've been keeping in touch with those old acquaintances of yours." She finally settled with that easy question.

"Which one? Lucian? He comes and goes like a shadow, there is no need for me to keep track of him. Usually he'll come to bug me before I even miss him. Abelard Constantin? We exchange phone number, as simple as that," answered Kuroro flatly. He paused, and added:

"And one more thing. He was one of the patrons that purchased the Scarlet Eyes from me."

When Kuroro said this, his voice was low and like a passing breeze, as if he was most reluctant to say it but was obliged to tell her. Kurapika did freeze for a second when she heard the revelation.

"But it was Shalnark who bargained with him. He never knows that I was the one behind the massacre."

Kurapika turned to look at him with unreadable expression, and slowly but surely she lay down on the bed next to him, facing him. Kuroro had sounded like he was confessing his sins against her. They stared into each other's eyes in seemingly interminable time, before Kurapika asked softly.

"Tell me how you come up with the 12-legged idea of Genei Ryodan."

Kuroro's eyes widened slightly—he had never expected her, of all people, to be interested in the history of the Genei Ryodan—but nonetheless he quickly composed himself. Obediently, he answered her curiosity.


Ten-years-old Kuroro wandered in the forest behind the temple which he had called 'home' at that time. He was battered and bruised, the result of another hellish training with Ishtar. He huffed in vexation at the thought of him being beaten up by a frail-looking woman. Nevertheless, he somehow knew that she was no human, despite her refusal to reveal the true nature of her self.

So distracted he was, that he failed to notice the lurking beast in the vicinity. Despite being under Isthar's territory, the forest was still a thriving habitat of many vicious beasts. In fact, it was Ishtar's protection that allowed these creatures to flourish in number.

The boy had only noticed the bristling bushes when the next second he found himself pinned down to the ground, a calloused hairy hand holding his neck like holding a twig. His eyes registered perfectly everything he was seeing: a gigantic wolf that stood on his hind legs—a werewolf.

The werewolf's flashing red eyes glowered hungrily at him, longing to devour him. Being the inexperience little boy he was, Kuroro was only able to cower in fear. He had yet to be exposed to more dangers in his life. The beast raised his other clawed hand and brought it down with force that was capable of squishing his head like pumpkin, but it never happened.

Instead, he only saw the werewolf being kicked on its side and was sent flying through a tree. Kuroro coughed as he rubbed his bruised neck tenderly, flinching at the pain. When he looked up, he noticed at the back of the stranger that had just arrived a few days ago and had approached Ishtar shamelessly and so casually like old friends.

The man turned his head to scrutinise him.

"No broken bone, boy? What a surprise." The stranger said with a grin as his dark eyes twinkled in amusement.

Kuroro only gave a hostile hiss at him. The werewolf let out an enraged howl and charged at the stranger like a mad bull. The stranger with medium length platinum gold hair and dark ochre skin turned to the werewolf and sighed in exasperation.

"Werewolves are such royal pain in the ass. Keep that in mind, boy."

Without warning whatsoever, the man suddenly began sprouting other limbs—ten spider limbs, to be exact—from his sides. Young Kuroro could only gawk at him in pure terror and utter amazement. He had never seen something so, so…strange? No, that would be an understatement.

"Silver is the best weapon against them, but since I have no silver ammo then my poison should suffice."

When the werewolf was close enough, he grabbed the beast barehanded with his human arms and then swiftly jabbed his ten spider limbs into the werewolf's flesh. The beast howled in pain but the poison took rapid effect. The werewolf visibly weakened but it would not go down without any last retaliation.

Wrenching one of its muscular arms from the man's grip, it grabbed the man's head and tore it off from his shoulders.


Kurapika cringed and grimaced at Kuroro's story. Exposed to such violence since young age, no wonder his heart became so desensitised. Kuroro only smiled grimly at her expression and continued with his tale.


10-years-old Kuroro yelped in surprised as the man's head landed on his lap while his blood showered him almost thoroughly. The man's dark eyes looked at him in a surprised expression. The werewolf roared as it tossed aside the headless body, its fur bristling in rage and pain. Young Kuroro tried to scoot away from the danger, but he was too frightened to move.

"Relax, kiddo. You won't die or she will mangle me to death." The head on his lap suddenly spoke without losing its easygoing tone.

Again the little Kuroro yelped at the talking head. He almost tossed it roughly aside if a portion of his logic had not convinced him to stay still.

"Now see as I finish that bitch," said the head as it grinned from ear to ear.

Kuroro looked up and saw his headless body getting up from the dirt and advancing to the werewolf steadily and surely. Ten spider limbs then jabbed themselves into the beast's flesh and injected lethal dose of poison into its system. Almost immediately, the werewolf crumpled to the ground without even giving a twitch.

The boy looked at the whole thing with open mouth. The head chuckled with satisfaction upon seeing that priceless expression of the stoic boy he had come to barely know in the past few days. His headless body sauntered towards the boy and picked up its head. With ease, as if he was installing the head of a doll, he put back his head on its proper place. He looked up after testing his neck muscles and saw Isthar standing not too far away, a murderous look on her deadly beautiful face. Her hands were on her hips.

"I will appreciate it more if you have not taught him profanities," Ishtar shot him a hard glare, "Anansi."


"I have never heard you shouting profanities." Kurapika said with accusation.

"Why should I? That's not my style." Kuroro shrugged, still in his lying down position.

You incorrigible debonair, Kurapika scoffed half-heartedly as she rolled her eyes.

"That's how I came to know of he 12-legged spider, which is Anansi himself."

"And that was the start of him claiming to be your 'daddy' and calling you his 'little boy'?" Kurapika asked with wide smirk.

Kuroro frowned—or to be exact, pouted—at her. He did not like being treated like a little child and, for goodness sake, especially not by Kurapika since he was nine years her senior, after all. He had just opened his mouth to say something but a loud bang of the window being forced open stopped him from doing that.

"Hey, guys, I—" Lucian froze in his place on the windowsill as he spotted the cuddling—or so he later termed it—couple on the bed. With a mischievous smirk, he slowly turned around and snickered. "Scuze (Romanian for 'sorry'), looks like I interrupt—AAAAAHHHH!"

He fell on his butt on the solid ground as his neck was wrapped in Kurapika's cold chains and he was forced back into the room. When he turned back after rubbing his sore butt, he saw Kurapika's face glowing in the dark in the full glory of its redness. Both of them were already sitting up on the bed. She looked flustered alright, but Kuroro seemed comfortable and unaffected. If anything, he could feel his irritation at his 'interruption'.

"W, what brings you here?" Kurapika asked, but her voice sounded more like a squeak than anything, still embarrassed like a teenage girl caught red-handed admiring the photo of her crush.

"Hm? Oh, well…I…." Lucian fidgeted with his fingers, suddenly unsure of what purpose he had for barging into their 'private moment'.

"Lucian." Kuroro demanded with icy tone.

If he had not known Kuroro for years, he might have yelped in surprise when he heard Kuroro's tone. Kuroro's mood had definitely taken a sharp dive for the worse because of his recklessness.

"Well… I just want to tell you guys that I won't be coming along in your trip to more dangers…" He finally said as he scratched the back of his head.

"Hmm… Still the ol' coward Lucian I know." Kuroro said with a smirk.

Lucian's face scrunched up upon hearing Kuroro's deliberate teasing to his pride. Nevertheless, he cringed when he remembered what the two would be facing.

"Ei bine, îmi pare rău!(Romanian for 'Well, sorry!') Call me prudent," he huffed in annoyance and folded his arms across his chest. "But I still love this current life I have so I don't want squander it so early by facing a wild Ifrit—Oh!" Something clicked at the back of his mind. "Speaking of that…"

Lucian turned to Kurapika, who by then had assumed a neutral expression again, throwing her flustered expression out of the window.

"I just remember," a small smile crept its way to Lucian's porcelain-like face, "I can offer you eternity, you know…fata."

Kurapika blinked.

"Pardon?" She asked with frown.

"That way, you can leisurely take you own sweet time collecting those Eyes of your desire. Of course I'm willing to help you out in place of this stuck-up guy." He said while pointing a finger at Kuroro.

Kuroro snorted at his silly proposition and turned to address Kurapika. "I keep my promise, but if you want me to back out, I have no objection. Only, are you ready to abandon your humanity in exchange of eternity? Personally, it's too hefty a price for me."

"You are just too stingy." Lucian said with a pout.

Kurapika was silent for a while, before she answered confidently and smoothly.

"Thank you for the offer, but no. I have my own pride and dignity. Born as a human, die as a human; that's my belief."

Lucian whistled in awe.

"How bizzare. That's exactly the same as this guy said years ago when I offered him the same thing."


Phoenix tapped one of her feet impatiently as she stood imposingly in front of Ishtar's tombstone. Her face was contorted into that of anger and dissatisfaction. The water of the lake stirred uneasily, responding to the Phoenix's agitation.

"You," she pointed an accusing finger at the tombstone, "are a complete idiot, do you freaking know that?"

Phoenix, calm down… The water said, trying to dampen the Lady in Red's seething anger.

"How can I?" She spat. "I'll be damned if I can be calm when this, this idiot of a woman has just thrown away her chance to regain her former glory and immortality, by replacing the content of the egg with that blasted Solomon Ring?"

Despite her overwhelming rage, there was a tinge of sadness in her rough voice. Phoenix bit her lower lip and looked away, her foot still tapping the ground unnecessarily.

That is her decision, and you should know her well enough, the water said in a rather chastising tone, that she has had enough with this life.

"Damn it! She does all these to protect that spoiled brat and he is not even her flesh and blood!"

He is of her blood, that much is true, Phoenix. She gave her blood to him. Morgan le Fay said sharply as the water began to assume her humanoid appearance. She frowned at the short-tempered Lady in Red.

"That egg…absorbed whatever feelings the boy has towards her…" Phoenix said with tremulous voice. "And surprisingly, it has supposedly sufficient energy to revive her right here right now, if I use my Fire on it. But no… Dammit…"

It was known then that someone bathed in Phoenix Fire was able to defy death only once, or so they said. She had planned to bathe the egg in her Fire, and thus hopefully gave Ishtar a second chance of life, but no.

"She chose to protect her little boy," a male voice came from behind Phoenix.

Phoenix spun on her heels and was confronted by Anansi. He had an air of despondency around him, while his grim face looked more distressed than ever. For once, Ging was not with him. Phoenix shot him a heated glare, but said nothing. She merely observed him quietly as he knelt before the small grave and put down a bottle of sandalwood incense on top of the small mound. Sandalwood was always her favourite.

"Now that she can never come back, what are you going to do? Regain your former glory of a God?" Phoenix asked quietly.

Only a few people—or creatures in their terms—knew of Isthar's and Anansi's history. They were previously a God and a Goddess who dwelt in the realm above the human realm. However, even fewer people knew that the reason of their fall was simply because they had been infatuated with each other—it was the highest form of crime in their realm.

"That is a disgustingly ridiculous rule," Phoenix had scoffed with utter disdain upon knowing it for the first time, and Ishtar had only laughed good-naturedly at her reaction.

"I don't know. I don't have any reasons to go back there." Anansi shrugged uncaringly. "Not when I know Ishtar won't be there either."

Will you continue to look after the boy? Morgan le Fay asked with her wraith-like voice. Anansi gave her a knowing smile.

"That goes without saying."


"Born as a human, die as a human, huh?" Kuroro said randomly with soft amusement upon recalling the little chat they had with Lucian before they finally departed from Ryuusei-gai.

Currently, they were traversing yet another forest as they made their way to the lair of Deifri, the wild Ifrit, with Scheherazade as their guide. The enigmatic woman talked rarely and even when she did, her words were direct and somewhat distant despite her sing-song voice, as if she had no wish to associate herself with them more than she already did. It suited them just fine, though.

"What? Got a problem with that?" She asked snappily. Her mood had plummeted for the worst when she found that her backpack was as good as gone forever, and it had taken almost all efforts on her part and Kuroro's part to prevent her from mauling the eyebrow-less man into chunks of meat. "And it's not like you don't agree with it. After all—"

"We are not pure humans by now, you know that." Kuroro continued while ignoring Kurapika's barrelling words.

His words struck Kurapika hard and she was left dumbfounded, but upon realising the truth in his words, she wisely shut her mouth to save her face. It was no use arguing over it—that was an old issue anyway.

"But you can still consider yourself humans." Scheherazade suddenly piped in with her ever carefree tone. Despite her easygoingness, she usually kept to herself—she had even worse I-keep-my-counsel-to-myself attitude than Kuroro initially had. Of course by now Kuroro was much more open to Kurapika, if not too much at ease around her.

Both Kurapika and Kuroro looked at her with a dubious look on their face. Regardless her being an acquaintance to Isthar, she was still a shady figure at most. No matter what, she was the type of people whom you felt you could never fully trust. She gave them a lopsided smirk and snorted softly.

"Have you never paid attention to those rings of yours given by Ishtar since the beginning? They are not for decorations, you know. If the boy here," she gestured at Kuroro with a curt nod of her pretty head, "is not considered a human, the rings ought to be glowing all the time. He has received Ishtar's blood since childhood, after all."

That makes sense, Kurapika thought as she gazed at her glowing ring—the sign that there was at least one mythical creature around them.

"What are you then?" she asked.

Scheherazade balanced her body on one foot and folded her arms across her chest. "Humanoid I may appear, but I am not a human. I am a creature that lives as long as there are tales to be told. I'm a tale-weaver and a story-teller of the world, so to say."

"So you will continue to exist as long as mankind exists." Kuroro concluded.

She gave Kuroro a knowing grin. "Touché."


When nightfall came, they stopped to make a camp and rested their sore feet after walking incessantly for the whole day. Conveniently, the spot they choose was close to the stream so it was easier for them to do any cleanings or other chores that required water. Dusk was falling and everything was going along nicely. They had had their dinner and were settling down to spend the night there. Until the dead of midnight, however, Kurapika could not find solace in her sleep.

She kept tossing around, unable to get even a wink of sleep.

Something is bothering you. That was more like a question than a statement from Una.

Kurapika craned her head and saw the Unicorn gazing at her with her beady, curious eyes. She sat up and leaned towards Una to pat her cheek lightly. Una then noticed the relatively new scars on her palms.

You have scars.

"Mmhmm." She nodded absentmindedly.

You could have healed it. Why not?

"I don't want to. Let this be a reminder on how weak I really am." Kurapika answered with an uncaring shrug, as if that really did not matter much.

Una gave her a look that said "I don't know what on Earth are you talking about. Mind enlightening me a bit?" So Kurapika told her briefly of what had happened during the 'Scarlet Tears' incident back then. Of course she explained the original baleful relationship between her and Kuroro that stemmed from the massacre of her tribe by his order.

"As much as I want to deny it," Kurapika concluded at the end of her story, "it's still true that he is beyond my league. Painfully so. Trying to kill him is perhaps as futile as trying to catch the wind with bare hands."

It is very unusual of you of being pessimistic, Una commented softly.

Kurapika gave her a small smile. "Call this realistic. I've learned my lessons, and enough is enough." She said as she put up her hands against the dark background of the night sky and stared at the jagged scar on her palm; the reminder of her weakness.

"I may as well invest my time and efforts in something more productive and healthy," she added as an afterthought.

A heartfelt smile graced the Unicorn's face. And that will be?

"I don't know." Kurapika gave a soft chuckle. "I guess it is one of those we'll-see-when-the-time-comes situations."

Kurapika then found herself sighing in contentment. It was surprisingly relieving; to finally be able to verbally conclude her long stretched thoughts and pondering. It was as if she had finally accepted the fact that she had to come to terms with her pasts and started to move on with her life.

"Thank you, Una, for listening to my blabbering." Kurapika said softly as she snuggled into the warmth of her flank.

Una only nudged her shoulder lightly with the tip of her nose, signing that she was more than happy to be of any help.

"What about you? Do you have anything you want to let out?"

Kurapika turned to look at Una, and the Unicorn gazed at her with meaningful, glassy eyes. To Kurapika, Una seemed like she was holding back tears.

"You do, don't you?" She asked with unmasked concerns.

About Una's history…

Kurapika's eyes softened and she shifted to fully face the Unicorn's face while still leaning against her flank.

Una was captured by humans as a foal but old kind Chiron saved Una. My folks abandoned Una because by being among humans has sullied my purity in their eyes, Una explained gloomily.

"What—that's ridiculous!" Kurapika exclaimed as softly as she could with her eyes wide in shock.

It's okay. That's just one of those old traditions that some tribes have. Remember that some tribes even practice cannibalism? The Unicorn said soothingly. But Una is content with the two of you, the Unicorn quickly said as she nuzzled her nose to Kurapika.

Kurapika's anger quickly mellowed down and she could only sigh in defeat. Una had accepted her fate and move on. Kurapika took a stealth glance at the still form of sleeping Kuroro.

Has he moved on, too? After Isthar's death, he seems quite broken…Kurapika mused.

Little did she know that Kuroro was still haunted by his failure to comply with Isthar's last wish—to address her as 'Mother'.


It was normal for people to dream or to have nightmares. Kuroro, however, was never considered as a normal person. He himself never considered himself anywhere near normal, and he was somewhat proud of it. Yet, here he found himself having one peculiar dream.

He was standing in the darkness—the typical setting for a standard nightmare. He was not bothered about it. He was more preoccupied by what—or rather who—he was confronting.

"Ishtar…" His whisper sounded so loud and crystal clear in the deafening silence of the dark void world.

The ghost of his late surrogate mother smiled as kindly and warmly as she would ever do in her time among the living. Though, this time her smile was tinted with the colour of sorrow and regret.

Even in my death, you still refuse to call me Mother, Kuroro?

Kuroro could only look away. He could not look at Ishtar in the eyes, not when he had failed to comply with her dying wish—and it was such a simple wish. Truthfully, he felt ashamed. All his life, he had never known a concept of shame. Everything was done for his self interest and for the interest of both Ryuusei-gai and the Genei Ryodan. He had never really considered other people's situation, and he most of the time got what he wanted.

This attitude started to change ever since he was cursed to travel with a certain blonde Kuruta girl, though.

The wraith of Ishtar floated eerily in the darkness, her entire being glimmering dimly like a flickering candle in the wind.

Kuroro…

The young man looked up at her, only to be confronted by the last thing he ever wanted to see of his surrogate mother. She was disintegrating into fine grains of sands, much like the moment she had died in his arms. That expression she had, that attire, even the blood—which had somehow materialised all the sudden—was the exact replica of that moment.

Kuroro…

Out of instinct, Kuroro leapt and tried to grab hold of Ishtar but he only managed to grasp thin air and a few grains of what had been the ghost of Ishtar. When he opened his palm, those minute grains simply vaporised into nothingness. Yet, her voice still lingered to mercilessly haunt him.

My boy…

If given the choice, Kuroro rather prefer to be haunted by a bloody nightmare with murders and all other things he was used to see in real life. If given the choice, he would rather not sleep than to be forced to relive the dying moment of Ishtar—where he had failed to fulfil her simple dying wish. It only reminded him of his only failure in his lifetime.

He would rather not sleep than to see this nightmare.


His eyes snapped open as an eerie howl woke him from his dream—or nightmare—and he was somewhat thankful for that. His eyes were boring into the darkness of the canopy of the trees above him, looking confused and lost.

"Kuroro?" came Kurapika's voice latched with uncertainty and puzzlement.

He glanced around and found her staring at him while still snuggling close to Una, though the Unicorn was already asleep. The girl looked like she was just about to fall asleep. The wind was cold, uncannily so with a spectral air thick in it. Kuroro willed his hearings to sharpen and he could hear those howls more clearly. They were nowhere near the howls of wolves; they sounded more like the wails of women, and they were coming from the direction of the stream.

"Do you hear it?" He asked softly, so as not to disturb too much of the quietness of the night.

Kurapika frowned.

"Hear what?"

"The wails."

Curious, Kurapika sat up and tried to locate to the so-called wails. She heard nothing except for the dry sound of the night breeze. She looked at Kuroro in complete bewilderment and shook her head slowly. This time it was Kuroro who frowned; how could she not hear it, while it was so crystal-clear? Against his better judgement, Kuroro carefully got up and started walking to the direction of the stream.

"Where are you going?" Kurapika asked in a tight whisper.

"The sounds come from the stream." He informed her as he continued walking quietly.

Knowing that the man would not stop until his curiosity was fulfilled, Kurapika scrambled to her feet and followed him. In silence they traversed the forest ground until they reached the outskirt of the forest that faced the stream. And then, they saw it.

The Banshee.

"What the—" Kurapika cringed when her eyes landed on the queer creature.

The creature looked like an ancient woman with dishevelled, thin air. They could almost see the creature's pale scalp beneath the strands of gray long hair. The woman wailed pitifully, her high-pitched screech echoing in the dead of the night, as she constantly tried to scrub bloody stains from the piece of rag she was holding to. She continued to scrub and howl, but when the nostrils of her snake-like nose flared, she stopped abruptly and turned exactly towards their direction.

Her pendulum-like breasts swung from her chest loosely, and she only had one front tooth left. Her face looked very skeletal as if she was literally only skin and bone. Her skin was ashen grey with black specks of rotting flesh. Kurapika by then had already had her breath virtually taken away from her. She backed away and did not even flinch when her back was pressed against Kuroro's chest. If anything, she felt safer that way.

"Banshee." Kuroro whispered in disbelief.

Why do we have to encounter a Banshee just tonight of all nights? Kuroro felt like cursing but held back his tongue.

"No way..." Kurapika muttered under her breath. She looked up to stare at Kuroro's pale face.

Banshee was something that both would like to avoid at all cost in their entire life. Sighting of Banshee could only spell DOOM and DISASTER, if not DEATH at the worst case. Usually Banshee appeared when a loved one was going to die soon. Worse still, it was Kuroro who had heard the Banshee. It could only mean one thing: Kuroro was the receiving end of the Banshee's bad omen.

Kuroro looked down to meet with her stare with his knowing one. From his expression, she knew that he had been thinking the same thing as she had. Kurapika bit her lower lip in nervousness, while Kuroro's lips were curled into a grim smile. One thought occur in her mind:

He's going to die.


As foretold by Scheherazade, the Ifrit who answered to the name Deifri was one hell of a wild spirit. The moment they took a step near his dwelling—which was approximately several hundred metres away from the actual dwelling—the Ifrit made its dramatic appearance.

With a loud explosion and several nasty 'firecrackers' the Ifrit showed his true form. He was a fire-covered giant of about three metres of height with bulging muscles and sharply defined features on his bald head. He folded his arms arrogantly across his broad chest and tilted his chin high with a smug expression etched on his stony face. The first thing that came to Kurapika's mind was that she wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face—she had a 'thing' for smug expression, you see.

Now, now, why is it that there are some cockroaches prowling around my dwelling, eh? He demanded with booming voice, trying to intimidate them at the same time.

Scheherazade only harrumphed and folded her arms defiantly across her chest, ignoring the threatening voice while giving the genie a dirty look.

"They are here to ask for your assistance—"

Wench, you know damn well as hell that I offer no help to such…he eyed the mortals with disgust clear on his face, weaklings. If anything, I prefer squashing them to death!

"I thought so." The woman only shrugged and turned to the two. "Well, he's all yours."

She gave them her characteristic crooked smile, before heading toward a certain tree and took a spectator seat under its shade. She then leaned against the fat tree and looked at the three of them, waiting for the game to start.

Now, let's see how I deal with you two worms…Deifri narrowed his eyes into two dangerous slits, before he suddenly sent a devastating blow to Kurapika—supposedly.

Before he knew it, his cheek received the hardest, nastiest kick he had ever received after such a long time of 'peace'. Deifri stumbled but he quickly recovered his stance, only to get an uppercut. Kurapika landed on the ground, but she quickly flapped her slightly burned hand and leg—those two that she had used to abuse the Ifrit.

"That is real fire." She hissed as she tried to alleviate the throbbing sensation of her seared skin.

"You are really reckless." Kuroro snorted upon seeing Kurapika's quick yet not-so-thoughtful attack.

"Well, sir, why don't you take your turn?" Kurapika snapped at him, wanting to finish it quickly.

They were told earlier that if verbal persuasion was not effective, then they just needed to pound the Ifrit hard enough until he succumbed to their wish. Scheherazade had also supplied one generous fact of this particular Ifrit: he mastered both fire and ice elements.

As if trying to prove that information, the Ifrit arched his back and the next second he was already vomiting blades of diamond-hard ice blades towards them. Kuroro opened his Skill Hunter book and used his Flamethrower skill. He had intended to melt down those ice blades, but the effect was almost nonexistent. Luckily they managed to avoid being skewered by those blades in the nick of time.

"Well?" Kurapika shot him a questioning stare.

"I'll say that we are in trouble," replied Kuroro with grim smile.

And trouble indeed they were in—a deep shit, even. They tried all means of damaging the Ifrit, but the blasted spirit seemed impervious to all kind of attacks. Scheherazade, meanwhile, was being a totally useless observer as she watched from the sideline. Even Kurapika's Nen Chain was impuissant against the Ifrit. The Ifrit, on the other hand, was enjoying every bit of moment as he scorched them with his fire, or showering them with his ice barrage. He had just received new toys!

Scheherazade snorted in dry amusement.

"The boy still hasn't figured out how to master the Solomon Ring, huh?" She twirled her curly hair absentmindedly.

Unless he masters it, they have no chance of beating that Ifrit, she thought as she glanced to the clear sky; it was oblivious to the vicious battle that was waged down there on the surface of the Earth. Ishtar, what were you thinking about? Giving him the Solomon Ring indirectly when you didn't even tell him how to master it. You didn't even leave a hint.

Scheherazade only shrugged and continued watching the hopeless battle. If Ishtar had another plan in mind, then so be it. She was just a Scheherazade, nothing more. She had no right to judge a fallen Goddess's plan for her surrogate son. Scheherazade had done her duty, and that was all. Now while she was free to go, she knew that something was bound to happen—and she was anticipating it to happen soon enough.

The battle, as Scheherazade had predicted, did not last too long. With one clean sweep, Deifri slammed Kuroro to the ground harshly, making him to cough out some thick deep blood—the tell-tale sign of internal damage. His right shoulder was smoking as he failed to completely evade a shot of fireball from the Ifrit. Not to mention other cuts all over his body that he got from the ice barrage. Kurapika was not in any better condition than he was. The tip of her now long hair was singed and her leg suffered from a mild burn, while one of her arms was entirely covered in blue-black-purple bruises.

Kurapika tried to lock the Ifrit's movements by wrapping her chain around his arms, but the plan backfired as the Ifrit—not forgetting his trademark evil grin—froze her chains all the way to her hands. She was practically conjoined with Deifri by the means of her own chains. With one satisfied smirk, Deifri then gathered his cold energy above his open palm. Kuroro then realised what the Ifrit was going to do.

"Kurapika, get away!" he shouted at her as he scrambled to his legs.

"I can't!" Kurapika was screaming then.

She tried to wrench her hand from the icy grip of Deifri's ice, but it was to no avail. She could only watch in horror as a spear of jagged ice was formed above the Ifrit's open palm and when the spear was shot to her direction. Not losing his sense and agility despite the heavy internal damage he was suffering from, Kuroro jumped and decided to shatter Kurapika's frozen Nen chains. It was better to have her Nen fragmented a bit than to lose her.

Because of the impact of the shattered Nen, Kurapika doubled up and she missed the ice spear by a hair breadth. She writhed in agony and tried to gather her Nen as quickly as possible. Kuroro looked at her in slight relief upon seeing that she had not been skewered by the ice spear yet.

Where are you looking at, boy? Deifri's fiery voice shook him from his relief and when he turned around to face him, it was too late.

Kurapika wheezed and panted loudly. She grunted as she tried to materialise her Nen chains again. It was excruciatingly hard and painful. She gritted her teeth as she looked up, ready to yell at Kuroro for doing such reckless acts. When she looked up, however, all her anger evaporated.

With her own eyes, she saw another ice spear ripping through Kuroro's left chest, shredding his heart into unrecognisable bits.

She only had time to gasp soundlessly as the spear pierced through his chest, leaving a hideous hole on Kuroro's body. The look on his face was that of pure shock and no fear. Apparently, he did not have time to let fear instilled its presence in his heart before his heart was cruelly torn apart.

The impact was so strong that Kuroro's feet were taken off the ground. There were blood everywhere, gushing out freely from the gruesome wound on his chest. The thick, rich scent of fresh blood filled the air and assaulted Kurapika's sense of smell. It was a scent that she came to greatly abhor over the years of her bloody life.

And then, she felt it—the absence of her own heartbeats.

Deifri's evil laughter rang like a background sound in her dull mind as she helplessly succumbed into infinite darkness. The last thing she remembered was Hassamunnin's words from long time ago:

When one dies, so does the other…

The last thing that Kuroro heard before darkness consumed him, however, was another familiar female voice:

It's been a while, Kuroro…


Author's Note: I was getting lost about Scheherazade's personality. She is aloof but cheerful. I think so far she's the one with most difficult and unpredictable character, even for me. And I actually think my Kuroro also doesn't really have a definite personality; kind of random and fickle. It's about time that Kuroro becomes the one at the receiving end of a disaster (if you notice, previously it's always Kurapika) I know this chapter isn't as wonderful as the previous one, but well…Life has its ups and downs, and so do I as a writer. And for those who actually requested me to update twice a week, come on, you're killing me…

Next: The bad omen of Banshee came true, Kuroro died in the hands of the Ifrit! And apparently, he dragged Kurapika along in his death. What would become of the two? And whose voice did Kuroro heard the moment he was plunged into death? Was it the voice of hope, or that of a living nightmare?