Disclaimer: I do not own HunterxHunter, nor do I profit commercially from these writings.

ABC Series

S IS FOR SCARLET

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"Will I get a number?"

Kuroro looked up from the book he was reading and turned his head around to stare at his eldest son. Said boy was absentmindedly fiddling with the corner of the page he was supposed to be reading. Judging from the thickness of the tome, Kuroro knew that Bast would be throwing a hissy fit at the boy's failure to read the entire Encyclopaedia of Daemons in a day. For once, it wasn't Kuroro who insisted that Meta educated himself.

"What number?"

"Number 11 is empty, right?"

Kuroro's eyes narrowed as he observed and studied the boy's dark blue eyes. They were curious and inquisitive, but there was a glaze of anticipation in them. Kuroro immediately knew what the boy wanted, and he had to hold back a sigh. Sooner or later, they would have to have this discussion. Abandoning his book altogether, he put it on the table and swivel his chair to give his full undivided attention to his son. This was going to be a looooong talk.

"Yes."

"So can I—"

"No."

Meta's expression was between flustered, scandalised, and indignation. Under normal circumstances, Kuroro would've thought the expression cute. But this wasn't such circumstance.

"I haven't even said what I want!" The boy protested vehemently.

"I know, so don't even go there."

"So what do I want?" The mini-Kurapika challenged.

"You want to join the Ryodan."

Meta deflated, obviously disappointed that his father indeed got it right.

"But why not?"

"First of all, your skills aren't on par with the rest of the Spiders. I have no need of deadweight in the Ryodan." Kuroro deadpanned, blunt and to the point.

If Meta was any puppy, he would be whining pitifully with his ears flat on his skull and his big eyes teary. It wasn't every day that his father told him flatly that his skills were lacking, but calling him a deadweight took the cake.

"Second of all, do you know the job description of the Spiders?"

"Err…" He twiddled his thumbs sheepishly.

Kuroro resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Obviously, you don't."

If anything, the ten-year-old boy looked like he hadn't even considered that at all. He fleetingly recalled that Kurapika's friends—especially that Zaoldyck boy—went on their shenanigans when they were twelve. He had the feeling that his boy was starting that phase way earlier. Joy.

"We steal, we pillage, we kill. By any means necessary. Old and young. Men and women. Invalid and children." Kuroro said bluntly, not even attempting to spare any sordid details. "Can you do that? Can you execute your missions without qualms? Without being weighed down by conscience? Without having nightmares, restless night after restless night? Without being haunted by ghosts of your victims and targets?"

Kuroro felt a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw the shock and uncertainty registering to the boy's face and eyes.

The guilt, the remorse, the restless nights, the haunting; those are the things that Kuroro never experienced. Those are things that Kuroro wasn't privy to. Those are things that Kurapika had told him years ago, when she recounted the duel-to-death between her and Uvogin as she led him to his makeshift grave that she had made for the gargantuan Spider. She told him how she was haunted by the ghosts of Pakunoda and Uvogin; images conjured from her guilt, from the dread of doing her first kill. He hadn't understood the feeling, couldn't empathise with her. He merely sat there, listening to her and sitting across her with his knees touching hers; a reassurance. He couldn't comfort her, couldn't hold her hands or embrace her. It would be disrespect if he pretended to comfort her when he really didn't understand her grief and distress.

He didn't understand the feeling, but he understood enough to know that Kurapika didn't want any of her children to experience the same thing. What more, Meta was empathic. Whatever his victims were feeling, they would feel it very strongly at the brink of their death and Meta would be inevitably affected. It would be horrendously detrimental on the boy's psyche, and Kuroro Lucifer was having none of that.

"Us, the original members of Genei Ryodan," he continued with low voice, "we didn't take up this job because we wanted to. It was out of necessity. The rest of them, they have their own reasons."

"I know… Uncle Franklin said the same thing…" The boy murmured sadly.

Kuroro leaned forward and stared into his son's eyes; the dark blue eyes that were an in-between of his and Kurapika's eyes. When he was younger he looked so much like Kurapika, but now those facial features had grown into his likeness. Only the eye shape remained like Kurapika's; cat-like and sharp. The Spider Head reached out and took his son's hand. He turned it around and traced the mark on his palm with his long thin finger. The identical mark as the one on his head, the birthmark that symbolised their solomonarii heritage.

"You have no such need." Kuroro said in a whisper-like voice. "You don't need to be like us in order to survive."

Meta; probably noticing the sombre mood that his father had gotten into, didn't make any witty remarks as he was prone to do. He held still as his father seemed to be in deep thoughts while tracing the diamond shape on his palm. And then, he saw it.

His father's dark eyes. The deep black eyes that seemed to swallow light, they shone bright. Meta was never before afraid of his father's eyes. Even when he was furious, his eyes weren't this frightening. Not in the cold-blooded-murderer kind of scariness, but more of…like…

"Dad?"

…like a fallen-angel kind of insanity…

Meta tried pulling his hand away, but the grip was steely.

"Dad?"

Kuroro blinked, and the brightness was gone.

"Meta…" The grip softened, but he didn't let go. "Show me your Scarlet Eyes."

"Eh?"

"Show me." Kuroro repeated, his voice stronger and steadier. "Your mother's legacy."

Meta was unsure, but he complied. It took him considerable effort to summon forth his Scarlet Eyes without feeling angry or any other strong emotions, but he managed to pull it off in the end. He stared into his father's onyx black eyes, waiting for his response. After an agonizingly long time for Meta, the silence was broken by his father.

"You can't control them perfectly yet, can you?" Kuroro finally said in a murmur.

"Not exactly…" Meta answered with small voice. He knew that 'perfect control of Scarlet Eyes' was high on the priority list of the skills that he needed to perfect, but that wasn't an easy thing to do.

Kuroro exhaled a sigh; a tired sigh that Meta had never heard from him before. He had never seen his father looking so tired before, looking older than usual. It was as if age suddenly caught up with him with vengeance.

"As long as you can't perfectly control your Scarlet Eyes, you can never join the Spiders. Nor can you go out to the world on your own." Kuroro suddenly said, with firm voice that brooked no argument. This was a final verdict, but rebellious Meta couldn't help but to protest against it.

"What?! Why?!"

In his indignation and petulance, Meta tried wrenching his hand away from his father's grip, but that had the exact opposite result. Kuroro tightened the grip to the point that it was almost painful, and his other hand shot up to grip the boy in the chin. Kuroro literally forced the boy to look at him in the eye, his onyx eyes darkening even further with demand for absolute obedience and no-nonsense.

Meta could only freeze in fear.

"You know your mother's history. The history of your tribe. Of your bloodline." Kuroro leaned further in, closer to the boy's face and invading his personal space. "You know howI massacred her entire tribe for these Scarlet Eyes."

Meta gulped hard, his lower lips trembling.

"Deep down, she still holds that resentment. The anger. The fury. They resurface sometimes, when she is at her worst." Kuroro continued his furious litany, determined to make his son see sense and understand the predicament that he was born into as a Kuruta. Ironic that the murderer of the tribe was now trying so hard to preserve it. "Scarlet Eyes are prized items. They are hunted down. If you can't control your Scarlet Eyes to perfection and people find out about your bloodline, this place will burn. Your siblings will be hunted down, their eyes gouged out to be put in preservative liquid and displayed like trophy. The more perverse ones would capture them alive and exhibit them like a zoo animal."

Kuroro drew a shaky breath, and Meta tried to hold back the tears.

"I have seen them do that, Meta. I was the one who sold them the harvested Scarlet Eyes and people. I beheaded your mother's brother and sold his head to the collectors." Kuroro grimaced at this.

Those people that his group had captured alive and sold to the flesh collectors, he had heard that they soon committed suicide—deeming death better than being humiliated and treated like an object. He couldn't fault them for it. In fact, he could respect them in that aspect. In a split second, he imagined Kurapika being treated like them, and his fury spiked up to a dangerous level. When Meta, Sarai, and Noah were added to the equation, his fury was so insurmountable that Meta started to turn green and physically ill from the malice that he was emitting in his Nen. He quickly recomposed himself, and directed his attention back to his still-shaking son.

"As I said, you are not going out of this town and mountain without supervision. Not until you perfectly master your Scarlet Eyes." Kuroro said with gentler voice as he leaned back and released his hold on the boy.

Meta continued shaking in his spot, before he broke into a run out of the study room. Kuroro didn't miss the faint sobs mixed with the pitter-patter of his feet as he ran down the corridor. He buried his face in his hands and released a gush of sigh.

"What did you tell him?"

For once, Kurapika wasn't angry at him for upsetting the child. She was calm, and actually sounded concerned about him.

"What needs to be said." Kuroro said quietly as he sat on the edge of the bed, back hunched and elbows on knees.

"Which is?"

"He is not allowed to go out of the mountain until he can perfectly control his Scarlet Eyes, unless with supervision." Kuroro deadpanned.

He heard Kurapika heaving a great sigh, before he heard her kneeling behind him on the bed. He then felt a gentle hand on his back.

"Why?" She knew why, but she just wanted to hear it from the man himself.

"He's too reckless. I have no desire to have people hunting down my children just because they can't control their gifts."

"He's ten." Kurapika asserted while rolling her eyes. "I agree with your rule, but you didn't have to threaten him like that."

Kuroro shot her an apologetic smile across his shoulder, and Kurapika knew that was as much as an apology she would get from the man.

"And… He doesn't need to be like me. Us."

Kurapika's eyes widened.

"Did he…?"

"He wishes to join the Spiders." There was disapproval in his tone.

"I thought you want him to join?" The confusion was clear in her voice.

Kuroro didn't reply. Kurapika leaned forward and rested her head on his back. She could hear his heartbeats. Earlier that day, she had felt his agitation, his fury. At first she thought Meta had done something really bad (read: near catastrophic or cataclysmic) that warranted such rare fury from Kuroro, but she then realised that the fury had been internal.

Kurapika peered over his shoulder to look at his face.

"What agitated you so much today?" She asked in a whisper.

"Something unpleasant." He said, trying to sound as flippantly as possible.

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "What is it?"

It was a while before he finally replied. Even then his voice was quiet and small, as if he was most reluctant to talk about it. But he still spoke while looking at her in the eyes.

"I know, and have seen, the fates of your people. Those we killed for the Eyes, and those we captured and auctioned alive."

Kurapika looked away with a frown. Kuroro made a small wistful smile at that, and closed his eyes.

"I didn't like the images that my mind conjured when I recalled their fates. Their faces superimposed with yours. And the children's."

Kurapika wanted to throw some caustic remarks at him, but found that she couldn't bring herself to do it. Kuroro had his head hung low and his eyes closed, but his eyebrows were furrowed and his face looking very much troubled. She figured that 'I didn't like' was probably a huge understatement. Still, Kurapika also couldn't help but to detach herself from him and went over to the open window. She didn't see Kuroro's frown deepening.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurapika. I don't regret what I've done." Kuroro said quietly.

"I know." She murmured. "I know. You've reminded me time and time again. Over and over again."

He had apologised for the grief that he had caused her because of the massacre—he still remembered that rainy day in the cave when he had apologized to her and she had proceeded to beat his tetanus-ridden body up. But never once had he admitted that the mission was a mistake. Never once had he said that he wished he hadn't done that. He had massacred her clan and he didn't regret it. He was content with the outcome, although the emotional setback on her part was rather unfortunate. Sometimes he still did 'see' the angry Kuruta in Kurapika, demanding retribution and giving him baleful glares. It wasn't on the surface, but he could 'see' it. Sometimes his True Vision was such a burden.

He was also aware that Kurapika had never once said "I forgive you."

Silence filled the room, but there was no angry tension to it. It was a melancholic silence where Kurapika tried not to reminisce too deeply into the memories of her childhood because it might give her dangerous thoughts. It was a solemn silence where Kuroro chose to be there specifically for Kurapika; he would be there even if she wished to lash out at him, whatever she dished out he would take them on without a word. It was her prerogative and his responsibility.

"Like an anxious father." The words came with a quiet chuckle.

Kuroro blinked dumbly. He almost couldn't believe the lightness in Kurapika's voice. Usually she was very solemn and a tad bitter during times like this.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be looking like a true, bona-fide anxious father." Kurapika turned and smiled at him fondly.

The evening glow illuminated her iridescently, giving her an unearthly glow. Her golden hair glittered in orangey hue, and her earrings—one of his many gifts for her—glimmered almost shyly. Her hair swayed lazily in the evening breeze. If Kuroro was any lesser man, he would have gawked like an idiot at the image. But Kuroro, being Kuroro Lucifer, simply raised his hand and silently beckoned at her. She willingly glided from the window toward him.

"You always look so carefree about the children." She took his hand in hers. "Half the time you don't behave like their father. More like an accomplice or brother-in-crime. Or a Godfather."

"I am all of those." He said with a boyish smirk as he pulled her to his lap. He was pleased when she didn't fight him.

"You are so insufferable." Kurapika rolled her eyes.

Kuroro rubbed the scars on her palms with his thumbs. He still remembered how he gave Kurapika that scar, and how she refused to completely heal the scar. A reminder, she had said. Kuroro vaguely wondered if she still needed that reminder. It wasn't like he thought the scar as ugly. It was the contrary, really.

"Aren't you going to ask whether he hates you or not?" Kurapika asked as she watched his thumbs tracing her scars. It was almost hypnotic.

"Why should I?" Kuroro said with a shrug. "It hardly changes anything. He's still my child, I'm still his father. And I'll still make sure that he's not going anywhere until he perfects his control."

"So tyrannical."

"Oh? I believe that is a title reserved for you?"

"Shut it." She flushed in embarrassment and elbowed him lightly. "I have my reasons to be tyrannical."

"So do I, Kurapika. So do I. It's a necessary evil." He chuckled and began quoting, "Folly is bound in the heart of a child…"

"…but the rod of discipline shall drive it away from him. Proverb chapter 22 verse 15." She finished the quote—which was becoming one of their weird habits—and twisted around to stare at him. "And for your information, he doesn't hate you. Just very very scared of you. And very sick."

"I'll do something about it," he said, and gave Kurapika a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Kurapika always squirmed and squeaked whenever he gave her a sloppy kiss, and by God he loved it when she squirmed. A bit sadistic but hey, he was Kuroro Lucifer. It wasn't like she was complaining loudly about it either.

"You better do." Kurapika muttered as she wiped her cheek. "He was blathering something about your legacy and mine in his fever. Apparently he thinks the Genei Ryodan is your legacy as much as the Scarlet Eye is mine."

"Fascinating and very flattering." Kuroro beamed, almost giddily. He was obviously very happy and proud.

Kurapika, meanwhile, was equally fascinated. Sometimes he could be so childish.

"Yes, very. So make it up to him."

"I will, I will." He cooed.

Kuroro suddenly fell back—and Kurapika yelped—and rolled over so he was spooning her. His arms had moved so they were around her waist and his face was buried in her hair. They stayed that way for a while, before Kurapika finally spoke up.

"Kuroro?"

"Mmm?"

"Hands off."

"No."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's almost dinner."

"Bia can take care of the kids."

"She's a kid herself!"

"With an adult mind. Her mind has different growth rate thanks to Bensalem. So technically she's an adult. She'll deal with it."

Kurapika groaned and tried different tactic.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No."

"Well I am."

"I'll feed you later."

"Are you for real?"

"Perfectly."

She could oh so hear the grin.

"Fine." She sighed. "At least make me comfortable."

"You want comfortable?"

Kurapika heard that tone. She quickly turned around and—

"Kuroro, I—"

—game over.

Bia suddenly looked up from her book and stared at the ceiling. She stared for a while before she finally made a face. She wordlessly put down her bookmarked book and got off the sofa.

"I'll be making dinner." She announced to the twins with her Nen words as she walked to the kitchen.

"Why? Where's Mama and Papa?" Sarai asked as she paused grooming Bibi; who promptly chirruped in protest.

"Busy," was all that Bia dared to say.

To err on the side of caution, Bia set up barrier on the staircase so the twins couldn't go to the second floor, where their parents' bedroom was.

Author's Note: It's been a while since the last time I mashed up comedy, romance, and angst in one chapter =D it feels good. Slightly insane, unstable Kuroro is so exciting to write.

But I'm wondering whether Kurapika and Kuroro are OOC or not. Of course they are irrevocably different from the canon Kurapika and Kuroro, because as characters they are forced to grow and change by circumstances, but... What do you guys think? Are they still okay-ish? I tried to inject their original personalities as much as I could, but I don't know how successful I am in that aspect. Then again, I haven't seen much of Kuroro's true personality in the manga or anime aside from his Danchou persona or when he is in disguise. Kurapika is easier in that sense.